An internet friend recently committed what I thought a colossal blunder — he disregarded the published rules at a Holocaust memorial in Berlin and then, blogged about it. With pictures.
I was critical because he failed to provide social and historical context for his actions. Truthfully, I was less offended than I was surprised and disappointed. I thought he was better than this. He has since issued a thoughtful public apology and written me a deeply considered personal message. I accept his contrition as genuine — and to his credit, he encouraged me to write about it.
This is a good conclusion, but I am still struggling with the concept of how we behave as travelers in difficult and emotionally charged spaces.
Stop for a moment to consider something. The Holocaust was systematic murder using factory methods. Most of those killed were Jews — my people — but there were also homosexuals, the Sinti and Roma, and anyone who didn’t fit the mold for the Third Reich’s eugenics project. People were slaughtered using systems designed to kill them with the greatest possible efficiency.
It was a horror.
The memorial in Berlin was built to remind us of of that.
In early 2008, I went to Cambodia.
I loved traveling there and ever since I learned it existed, I had wanted to visit Angkor Wat. But Cambodia was also very difficult for me. I was haunted, Cambodia made me wonder if ghosts might be real. An estimated four million people were murdered by the Khmer Rouge regime.
The details are the stuff of nightmares. I found the weight of history in many of the sites too much to bear. When I say I sobbed my way across Cambodia, I am not being hyperbolic, it is the truth. At the Toul Sleng prison in the heart of Phnom Pehn, I was inconsolable with grief after looking at one row of mug shots in the first room. There was nothing graphic about the photos at all, they were simple head shots of prisoners.
My husband patiently took me by the hand to a park bench in the walled courtyard where I wept until the first batch of ghosts were gone, and then, we went across the street to get a cup of tea in a leafy garden cafe where I cried some more.
We had been to the Killing Fields earlier that day. A cargo of tourists unloaded after we’d been there for about twenty minutes. I alternated between staring, mute with despair, out into the barren fields where so many people were murdered, and circling the pile of skulls encased in the monument. I could hear children laughing in a school yard down the road and thought, “It can’t be good for them to be near all this death.”
As I came around one side of the monument, I saw an Australian couple — both of them in beach wear — he was positioning her for a smiling vacation snapshot in front of the battered skulls of murdered Cambodians.
I went hot with anger.
My husband came around from the other side and looked at my face, he must have seen something was wrong. I gritted my teeth and said, “I am going to lose it. Right here. Right now. Look at them.” Not for the first time, he took me by the hand and led me away. I sat on a bench with our guide, a kind young woman.
“I don’t know why, but certain people can’t take these places,” she said. “I’ve seen this before, but you’ve got a bad case of it.”
“It’s the ghosts,” I said. “This country is full of ghosts. How is it they can not see the ghosts?”
I have been traveling and blogging about it for a long time.
Long enough that I have seen this kind of blundering before. Long enough that I have stumbled around the edges of it myself.
The last Queen of Hawaii, Liliuokalani, was held prisoner in ‘Iolani Palace during the overthrow of her nation in 1895. Her room is plain, there is an iron bedstead and a dresser. There’s a bird cage.
I wondered about the bird cage on my blog. It was a metaphor for so many things, and the Queen was a song writer, she wrote Aloha ‘Oe. My post ended up on a Hawaiian culture forum where I got heat for not doing my research.
“Of course she kept song birds, it’s one of the few pleasures she was allowed during her detainment. Could you not have asked someone before speculating? Before jumping to your own ideas? There’s real history here to refer to.”
I thought my critics rather touchy and also, I was embarrassed. I thought about the Native Hawaiians who still mourn for the loss of their sovereign nation. The story of the end of Hawaiian independence is a current day tragedy for many people who live in the islands. My interpretation of the Queen’s birdcage is not relevant to those wronged by history in that very same place.
My critics were right.
I’ve been told that taking offense at a passing bit of misbehavior at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is “bullshit” and “debatable.” I’ve also been called “self-righteous” and told that I should “Let it go”.
When I think about the Hawaiians who have told me stories of how unwelcome they were in Waikiki—a place that was once a retreat for Hawaiian royalty—I can not imagine telling them to “let it go.”
When I picture the faces of a generation of Cambodians who have no grandparents — the country is so young — I can not imagine telling them to “let it go.”
When I remember the old ladies with the tattooed numbers on their forearms in the kitchens and laundry rooms in Israel where I worked as a kibbutz volunteer, the words “let it go” won’t form in my brain, much less my mouth.
I have in-laws in Graz, Austria. On a walk through the city when my parents were visiting from the US, we came across a guide giving a tour in English. She was pointing out a tombstone, engraved in Hebrew, embedded into the wall of a government building. “We don’t know how this got here,” she said.
“We know exactly how it got here,” I said, in English, loud enough so the guide’s charges could hear me. “Graz was a Nazi hotbed during World War II. The Jewish population was decimated, their artifacts destroyed. Tombstones from the Jewish cemetery were used as construction materials, as road pavers. This one’s just in a very visible location — who knows how many others there are throughout the city?”
I placed a rock on the arch of the gravestone, it’s what Jews do instead of leaving flowers. The guide was furious with me. But she was wrong. It seemed impossible to me that she did not know how this tombstone got here.
History is not something we just let go of, it is not something we should let go of. Actions that diminish the importance of history — turning a birdcage into a metaphor, a boneyard into a backdrop — cause the facts to disappear, leaving us nothing to learn from.
We know why the stones are there. They cannot speak for themselves.
It is our job to tell their stories or they will be lost forever.
Brava. Your emotions in Cambodia and your action in Graz were righteous, not self-righteous, and speak well of you.
When I visited Dachau in 1986 I could not speak. My companions were mystified—I explained myself in a brief note on a pad—but it was important to me, in the face of that horror, to engage in some small gesture of respect, however futile. At that time it was not acknowledged, at the site, that Dachau was a death camp, which I now understand it was, and it had been prettified quite a bit, the barracks torn down and the grass neatly mowed. Still it was a deeply shocking experience. I am not Jewish, by the way. In fact my ancestry is mostly German, although all my forebears emigrated before the end of the 19th century.
It’s hard for me to feel the forgiveness I should for people who lack the imagination to grasp the awful meaning of the places they visit, to understand that what seems lost in history was as real as the moments in which we are living now. Somehow people like you and me have to learn to testify to what we feel in a way that people can hear.
Your words are a gift and an honor, John. Thank you.
It is important to know the accurate history of places and events lest we repeat them. Mr. Santayana had it right.
I went white hot with anger when I first took my other half to `Iolani Palace. One man on the tour could not understand why the Hawaiian sovereignty movement had so much support–annexation was the best thing that could have happened to Hawai`i, after all. The docent simply replied that many ethnic Hawaiians who visited the palace cried when they saw Queen Lili`uokalani’s room. The man harrumphed his dismissal.
Gregg, ever the cool-headed one, took me by the hand and steered me away. I was not going to persuade this man, and he wasn’t worth doing the jail time for.
All hail our cooler head companions. I still think losing some teeth to that Aussie would have been worth it, but thanks to J., I’ll never know.
This reminds me of touring the Jewish Quarter in Girona, Spain, and the vague phrase, “and then they left.”
That still leaves me boggled. Still.
Powerful words, Pam. It never ceases to amaze me how blind people can be, how deeply entrenched in their own little bubble of existence and blissfully unaware (or simply inconsiderate) of everyone and everything else in the world around them. And I don’t think there’s anything to be done to change the minds of those who think we should just “Let it go.” Screw ’em…
I disagree that there’s nothing to be done. My friend’s actions coming out the other side of this mistake show that there is indeed something to be done. I hope he’ll agree that I didn’t attack him, which would have been easy, very easy. Asking well considered questions is often all it takes to get people to think differently. It’s not easy to do — I could not do it at the Killing Fields, I was too angry. But what if I’d asked those Australians what they would tell people about that photo when they showed it? What would they have said? It doesn’t has to be a confrontational question. “Do you know what this place is about?” is an easy question to ask anyone you meet in the course of your travels and wow, it’s so much more effective than “Screw you.”
If we let it go, we spit on history, condemning ourselves to another genocide and another. There was a powerful 8 minute film that I saw this morning done by the Holocaust Museum in DC…amazing. The quiet voices of the survivors packs a big punch.
I thought that after all I have seen, the survivors that I have spoken to, all I have read, that the museums in Phnom Penh would not affect me. I was knocked to my knees. You are right about the ghosts there.
When I visited Rwanda on business, I was escorted to a few places of interest. One was a “collection site” where people were held for a few weeks before they were killed by their own countrymen. The guide – a sole survivor of the massacre – showed us where the French soldiers had build the volleyball court on top of the mass grave.
That was just one of the things I saw.
And I wanted to take pictures to show all of it to people back home, but I realized it acted as a buffer to do that, sorta. Taking a picture somehow weirdly removed me from the reality and the feeling of being inside the “place”.
I decided to only tell the story and let the images form in everyone’s own mind.
I think this is a really good response to an insensitive act. I was really angry when I saw the post you’re referring to. Then I wondered if I had ever done something like that myself, whether I ever spoke too loud at a memorial or wore the wrong clothes or made assumptions. Probably, but never intentionally. I think visitors act disrespectful because they aren’t ready to face the truth; it’s too much to really think about. It’s much easier to dehumanize the dead, to think of skulls as skulls, not people, than to comprehend horrific atrocities like murder and genocide. Once you think about what really happened, the wave of emotion can be overwhelming.
I don’t think you’re self-righteous at all. You successfully bridged the gap between you and the blogger and went far to try to make him understand what he did and why it was wrong. I would have made a snarky “You shouldn’t do stuff like that” comment and been done. Good post!
Oh, I did some of that, to. “Not cool, dude.” Right? It IS different when it’s someone you know, though, and someone you like and had respect for.
I suppose it’s possible that people are thinking, “Hey, don’t harsh my good time mellow,” when they’re in these hypercharged places, but unless they are genuinely ignorant of the circumstances (a think that I am coming to accept can happen at the site in Berlin, but at the Killing Fields, no way, no how) I just don’t understand what they’re in those places. At all.
Beautifully written. We all need to be more careful about the things we say, do, and especially photograph when we travel. What may be just another historical site to us, may be a mark of pain, oppression and death to others.
From what I’ve experienced, there are many travelers who feel that if they’ve come a long way to see something, they are entitled to access it in any way that they choose, regardless of the real people they affect or why it is significant. This includes taking pictures of locals without their permission because they are “exotic”.
Thank you for the reminder that we need to focus on being conscious and respectful when traveling (and in general), even if we cannot see the ghosts.
I’ve done that thing with the camera, and I have since stopped doing it, I ask now, and I take no for an answer and say thank you even when I feel like I don’t understand. You make an interesting point — “I spent all this money to get here, I’m going to do what I want” — may indeed be what’s happening, but that ties into an entitlement mentality that’s just totally inappropriate.
I was in Cambodia last month. I understand. If one is sensitive it is impossible not to be conscious of the ghosts and the weight of Cambodia’s history. I was horrified when I saw Western tourists in Cambodia engaging in the two worst reasons too many tourists travel to S.E. Asia for: cheap alcohol and sex. It was difficult not to confront them. I felt the same way in Vietnam at the war memorials and museums. I wanted to drop to my knees and ask for forgiveness.
The sex tourism thing in SE Asia sent me into a different kind of rage, that’s for sure. I had to leave a cafe in Phnom Pehn over that, too, I could not bear the sight of the Ugly American and his tiny rent-a-date, it was so awful, and those divier places where the backpackers go for cheap drugs, I just thought, god, what a bunch of bottom feeders, you know? Yeah, I was judge-y as hell a lot of the time of my fellow Western travelers, and it was exhausting, and no, I couldn’t really stop myself. It’s not that I’m so high and mighty, god knows I’m a flawed human, as much as anyone, but I hated that these people were helping create a definition for what a traveler does. My own ego got in the way all the time, because I didn’t want people thinking I was One Of Them, you know, but what can you do? What can you do? I write, and it’s so little.
I was in a gay bar in Phnom Penh where the majority of the clients (and all the staff) were Cambodian. There was a drag show performed by Cambodians. It was fun, lighthearted, silly and joyous. I thought to myself: Cambodians deserve any and every opportunity to be joyous. As one of the Cambodian customers in the bar reminded me: “All that (meaning the Khmer Rouge) happened over thirty years ago”. He was right. I was dwelling on the ghosts and he was reminding me to live and honor the present. Yet when I saw Western tourists partying with abandon in tourist bars I felt offended because I felt the majority of them were oblivious to where they were and what had occurred in Cambodia. I did not want to be painted with the same brush as them. It’s true that our egos go into overdrive in places like Cambodia. I haven’t found the balance yet. But I grieve that Cambodia is becoming a new haven for the type of ugly tourists who have ruined so many parts of Thailand. Mass tourism is destroying the world in so many ways.
What a thing that now there’s a gay bar with a drag show in Phnom Pehn, right? That’s tells you how far things have come since the Khmer Rouge, and that’s so hopeful. But there’s no denying that there’s a class of traveler — there ALWAYS has been — that sets out into the world purely to exploit the resources of another place.
I had a ridiculous exchange with a craft merchant — the place is irrelevant, it was poor — we were playing that game of bargaining, and I just didn’t want to. He kept getting on the phone to call someone to see if it was okay, could he give me another, I don’t know, 20 shillings discount. I was tired and hot, and eventually, I walked away. It turned out that I was getting sick, the next day I had a fever and was quite ill, my brain literally was not working right.
But when I look back on this, I’m really very embarrassed because I realized, in retrospective, that I was arguing with the guy about the kind of money that’s under the seats in my car, 50 cents, 75? I felt so stupid when I realized this.
“I just came to have a good time,” is so common in travel, it’s VACATION, right? So to some degree, I can look away from, well, partying 20somethings, or whatever. But sex tourism in SE Asia exploitation, and drug tourism feeds an economy that’s full of violence but, even without that, it’s potentially so very dangerous. It’s possible to shrug off some of this stuff — SPRING BREEEAAAAK!!!!– with an eye roll, but there are other things — willful disrespect at sacred, historical, and charged sites, exploitation for personal pleasure, and blatant disregard for the law — that are harder to look away from.
Found this article which relates to what we’re talking about:
“Economic globalization has transformed the traditional backpacker into the flashpacker: a well-to-do traveler seeking a combination of comfort and adventure, reflecting the trend in tourism whereby travelers are more interested in themselves than in tourist attractions. For today’s young travelers, seeing the Amazon or Patagonia is nowhere near as thrilling as doing Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, or Medellín. Publishing powerhouses such as Lonely Planet now have more city guides than travel guides, as most traditional destinations have become so mainstream and consumerized that the so-called undiscovered places have to be sold in order to keep the money carousel going. Hanging out in, as opposed to visiting, the Third World is the new thing to do.”
http://www.alternet.org/drugs/drug-trade-brutalizes-third-world-rich-western-travelers-its-tourist-attraction
Really enjoyed reading this. Thank you.
With you dear.
Hm gettting some encouragement to publish about one of my own blunders
This nearly brought tears to me eyes.
I am not as sensitive to spirits as you are. But I feel the weight of history on my shoulders. I did not visit the Killing Fields or the Holocast memorial museum. I simply can’t take them. Simply seeing ancient temples in Asia, or visiting modern cities in the US, makes me heavily and painfully conscious of the slave labour that built them, the native peoples displaced in the process, etc. History is dark and bloody.
I’ve been mulling this over for several days, and a couple points have bubbled to the top.
One is about how much history there is to learn in the world. Is it our place to be critical of fellow travelers who have not absorbed every detail of the horrors of a land they/we are visiting? Just because we might feel it’s an important part of our own voyages, not everyone can grasp the details of every wrong done by one group to another – especially when so much is forgotten in our own homes.
In my family, it is said that we have Blackfeet ancestry; something I have no proof of one way or another. But those of us living in this nation, while rightfully furious about the abominations of the Holocaust, the Killing Fields, and similar atrocities, tend to know far less about the cruel extermination of the peoples who once flourished in the lands where we now build our homes – people that may well have been my own ancestors. Shall we be angry with others for what they do not know, when we have our own huge blank spots? Something about “a speck in your brother’s eye…” is dancing around my peripheral memory.
Point two is about how we individually react to those folks, the one area where we actually have some control. If we are going to spend our energies being furious about the ignorance of others, we will be in a constant state of rage. Better to seek out opportunities to calmly educate.
I ramble, but I hope my rambles have something that makes sense in them.
I’m not critical of all my fellow travelers. The Aussies — they knew where they were, that place is called the Killing Fields and they arrived by tour bus with a guide. And my friend at the memorial declares himself a travel writer, so in his case, I’m critical because yeah, *HE* should know better.
I’m not saying EVERYONE should know better and I understand that this memorial is an ambiguous place, so people who are there without context, well, yeah, they may not know better. I’m very specific in my criticism. Do I WISH all travelers knew better? You betcha. Do I expect it? No. But in these examples — and ESPECIALLY with tour guide, who I found inexcusable, you bet I’m critical. And loudly. Ignorance of history, common. Ignorance of history in supposedly educated humans? Humans who have the job of educating others about the world? Those guys are NOT getting off the hook.
And I think your remark about home turf crimes — is heartfelt — but it’s not mutually exclusive. One can be completely ignorant of the Duwamish struggle (the tribe that lays claim to my neighborhood) and still be angry about the Khmer Rouge. I don’t know if my neighbors know about the Duwamish, even. But yeah, the best we can do is learn from what we know, which should be an easier task that “learn everything, everywhere.”
Sometimes, blundering tourists are just blundering ignorant tourists. It’s possible that the Austrian guides charges fall into that category, that they’d shrug that headstone off as an anomaly, and go about their incurious ways. But if *I* came back from Hawaii saying “Oh, people seemed really mad about my using this pile of rocks as a climbing wall,” my friends, my readers who know from Hawaii would think, “What the hell is wrong with you? That was a heiau, it was labeled KAPU | KEEP OFF and it’s considered a sacred site. I’d have thought YOU, of all people…” etc.
I like to think I won in the calm education on this, and on the Austrian guide. At the Killing Fields, well, yeah, too much rage. But I like to think that if I went back and saw that again, I’d just ask them a simple question, “Do you know what happened here?” Maybe they’d walk away thinking I was crazy, and I’m okay with that.
When you do the calm education thing – you are certainly a winner.
And you know my connections (as an outsider) to the Hawaiian community – but I would hope to never do the “you of all people!” thing to you or anyone else.
We’re all more “outsiders” in this world than in-the-know; it’s a lifelong classroom. But how do you cut slack to those who profess to be in a position of knowledge, like a tour guide (or travel writer) who gets their information wrong? That’s a tough call, I agree.
Learning to get control of the rage is another ongoing lesson, I guess. We gotta refocus it towards the kids on our lawns!
You hope not to do it because you don’t want to be that guy, or you hope not to do it because you don’t want to have to? Because those are different things.
The Hawaii thing is, of course, just an example, and my “transgression” — creating my own metaphoric conclusions — is pretty minor, I didn’t break any rules, not by a long shot. But if I’m in a place and documenting the things that happen there in my role of “Travel Writer” (whatever the hell that means) and I fail to take note of the history… if all I’d had to say about ‘Iolani Palace was that it’s pretty and I was surprised by how European it is, I’d expect some, “You’re kidding, right? You know what this place IS, right?” I’d deserve that.
I felt the same when visiting ground zero in Nagasaki. On a sobering cruise excursion to the Atomic Museum, I watched in horror as fellow cruise guests struck smiling pose after smiling pose in front of ground zero where an atomic bomb created havoc, misery and devastation. What was there to smile about or celebrate? It made me sick to my stomach.
I admire you for even having the courage to visit the Killing Fields and the memorial. I tip toed around Cambodia, hoping not to have to confront the depravity and overwhelming grief. This is the same reason I haven’t visited the Holocaust museums in the United States and why my sister had to accompany our sons to see Schindler’s List when it was screened at their Sunday school and a parent’s presence was required. I was a history major. I read extensively about the Holocaust, but once I had children of my own, I just could no longer deal with my emotions. I’m pretty reserved about my emotions and just could not imagine dealing with them in public as you were willing to do. But, just as maybe we see too many ghosts and feel the weight of the terror and hopelessness, others don’t or don’t want to “get it”. The ones who go so far as to say it never happened, or “slavery wasn’t so bad” need to be called out — every time.
It wasn’t a willingness — I really couldn’t do anything about it. In Cambodia, I fell apart before I even knew what was happening. I went in not really knowing very much, and I came out another person.
In Graz, with the tour guide, those words just flew out of my mouth, I didn’t think for a second about what she would think, what would happen, anything.
So while I thank you for the remark about my courage, I can’t really claim it, it’s not like I sucked up my fears and went in. I just went, and things happened.
Hi Pam, very thought provoking. My uncle liberated Dachau & never spoke of it. I found out after he died. And after researching what greeted that kid from Cleveland, I now know why. He couldn’t speak of it, much less write of it.
Let the ghosts lay in peace.
I’m not sure what you mean to say by “let the ghosts lay in peace.” Do we disturb them by disrespecting the monuments and resting places built in their honor? I’m going to go with yes, yes we do.
Let the ghosts lay in peace? No. Let us be their voices.
“I saw an Australian couple — both of them in beach wear — he was positioning her for a smiling vacation snapshot in front of the battered skulls of murdered Cambodians..”
I am so sorry to hear they were Australians, but so many Australians are ignorant of other cultures and of history of much beyond their shores.
But they are not alone in their ignorance of how to behave.
I have seen Italians parading through Stone Town in Muslim Zanzibar in not much more than bikinis and shorts – Italians in Seychelles rushing to buy shells, seahorses and other precious creatures from the sea. I have been talking to bazaar merchants in Cairo when a German tourist walked past with his genitals clearly visible up the leg of his tiny shorts. I have observed Spanish women wearing beach wraps parading through the ancient medina in Fez. And of course there are the Americans, who in my own view, do not mean to be offensive, but just can’t help it. Then there are the Chinese and Arab tourists who scrawl their initials on heritage monuments.
I could go on. Bali was once the most enchanting destination on earth. I wrote an article about it in 1969 and after struggling what to call it, I finally wrote A Challenge to Paradise. Now thanks to rampaging Australians, except in the deepest inland, it is now Le Paradise perdu.
So what’s the answer? Since these days everyone is travelling, perhaps some lessons on foreign customs should be inserted into the school curriculum.
But even so there will always be bogans, like the Australian couple who posed with the dead.
Thank you.
Just so it’s clear — they happened to be Aussie, and I’m not for a MINUTE saying all Aussies are like that. They could have been German or English or American or anything. So, yeah, education, education, education. World wide.
Thank you for posting this. Your anger at the Australian couple is so similar to the anger I felt when I visited the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial last December. I saw more than one couple posing for ‘selfies’ all along the memorial site and was completely nonplussed by them, especially as I was trying to wrap my head around the countless atrocities committed there. The worst transgression I witnessed was right outside the crematorium where I saw this couple leaning in for a kiss while posing for a ‘selfie’! I was so furious with their utter lack of awareness in a place that held so much horror to so many that quickly I stalked away before I completely lost my temper and yelled at them for being so insensitive.
I was so moved by this Pam and am right there with you, besieged by ghosts on many, many, travels. As a person of color, who is often treated as the outsider in my own country of the U.S., I am keenly aware of how ignorance, privilege and rewritten history connect in a revolting game of disrespect and disregard for other cultures. I’m also very, very, psychically sensitive so I’m routinely haunted in any place that has witnessed violence, turmoil or unrest, which is of course, most of the world. I have been angered by ignorance in Southern plantations, Mexican temples, Brazilian candomble houses and Panamanian indigenous villages. The lack of respect and disinterest in history is everywhere. I handle it by using every instance of cultural ignorance as a prompt for me to write about it and educate those who are interested. A lot of times, privilege and guilt blocks understanding and awareness, which is why the “let it go” retort is so popular. But I believe that posts like these and revealing the truth to unaware tour guides, do help to unblock some of that.
Thanks for this — especially for confirming that I’m not the only one who the ghosts choose to visit.
As someone who is very deeply affected by places and stories like that, I very much appreciate your reaction to the Killing Fields and people who see it as nothing more than a backdrop for pictures. And I do believe that one should use whatever tools one has at his/her disposal to raise awareness of the need to be sensitive to and respectful of not just history, but other cultures, beliefs and points of view.
I know, though, from vast amounts of personal experience, that my reaction to those things is not “normal,” and, honestly, I don’t think it should be. I think my response to, for example, the terrible injustices done to First Nations people in Canada creates as many obstacles as it does anything else. Strong emotions colour your outlook in both positive and negative ways, even if those emotions are on the side of good.
I don’t know. In the end, I suppose it’s difficult for me to accept that a person can judge people negatively and then go on to act positively. Is it possible to do the right thing if even a sliver of your intent is negative?
Thank you for this post, and for prompting that kind of questioning and reflection.
Yeah, the depth of my response is pretty out of proportion a lot of times, but I’m okay with that, and on the whole, I prefer the company of people who feel things strongly over those who lack empathy.
I’m not a Buddhist saint, or any other flavor, though, so while it’s lovely to think of striving for nothing but pure positive intent, there is an undeniable call to respond to injustice or insensitivity. How can one come at the crimes of humanity with only positive judgement, anyway? And there’s a very real difference in responding in anger and responding in a desire to improve the conversation.
Preach, sister.
Great post. I was in Lisbon a couple years ago spending time with some Israeli friends (the husband is from Lisbon, wife is from Canada). I couchsurfed with them four years ago in Jerusalem and have continued the friendship. It was the end of the High Holy Days and Rachel spent time showing me the Jewish parts of Lisbon…some that were out in the open and some that were hidden. I entered my first synogogue (one of two in Lisbon). I learned so much from her about the history of Jews in that part of Europe. I never would have learned that in a guidebook, and I doubt I would have on a tour. She was very knowledgeable and kind to me when I asked some probably stupid questions.
In my travels, I have identified this weird phenomenon I like to call “collective amnesia”. It’s very common in most countries (and especially those with more current history of atrocities directed at humans). When I was in Thailand, I asked my Thai friend (a Catholic nun) about the Red Shirt protests and was given a sterile answer. When I was in Israel, I asked my Jewish friends the best way to get to Bethlehem and was given a shrug and a “I don’t think there’s a bus that will take you”. When I was in Japan, I learned about the history of the hidden Christians, something I would have never discovered on my own if I had not been visiting a friend who knew about it. I could go on with stories like this. I’m babbling at this point and I don’t really remember the point I was trying to make…other than thank you for your words. I always enjoy reading these types of pieces from you Pam!
This is a great post, and I thank you for writing it. It pains me to see people treating sites like the Killing Fields as their personal vacation site without having empathy or respect for the people who died or suffered there. At the same time, though, I feel like I come across as sanctimonious if I call them out for their behavior.
So many ostensibly informed people act like this, too.It might just be easier to act like historical atrocities didn’t happen so they don’t have to feel bad about them, but that’s a cheap cop out that ignores the very real, present pain of the people who were affected or who are living with the aftermath.
Huh. And just like that I understand our friendship: I feel the ghosts.
I sobbed just standing at a street marker in Vienna.
I only kept it together in Cambodia because my kids needed me to.
Yesterday I read a personal memorial written by a Polish Jew who survived the camps and cried for hours.
Great article.
The New Yorker published a short piece on an Israeli blog that gathered pictures tourists have taken at death camps: “Should Auschwitz Be a Site for Selfies?” It’s worth a look.
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2014/06/should-auschwitz-be-a-site-for-selfies.html