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Boris Godunov
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Portland, OR
Aug 2001 time: 00:26
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For those who don't know about it, there is an incredibly thought-provoking book by Simon Wiesenthal, a Jewish survivor of the Nazi death camps, called "Sunflower." In the book, he recounts a remarkable occurence while he was a slave laborer at a work camp in Poland.
The basic summary is that while on duty at a make-shift war hospital, Weisenthal is taken aside by a nurse who walks him to a room where a man lays dying.
The man is named Karl, and he is a 22-year-old soldier of the SS. He is covered in bandages, having been horribly wounded. Not even his face is visible.
Karl recounts to Weisenthal a great crime in which he had taken part. His SS unit had moved into Dnipropetrosk after there had been some intense combat for the city. His sergeant ordered them to round up all the Jews they could find, which ended up being around 200 or so. They were then packed into a house, sandwiched in as tight as could be. Then the house was set on fire, while the SS troops were told to train their machine guns on the building and shoot anyone trying to get out.
After recounting this story--and going on for a bit about his home life as a child, growing up a good Catholic in Stuttgart before joining the Hitler youth as a kid--Karl begs Weisenthal to forgive him for the crime. He expresses remorse for having been involved and wants Weisenthal to help him "die at peace."
Weisenthal says nothing. After hearing the story, and moving between pity and contempt for the man, he simply gets up and walks out.
The next day, the same nurse takes him aside and informs him the SS man has died in the night, and presents Weisenthal with a small bundle. Karl had asked the nurse to give him everything the SS man had, including a letter to his mother in Stuttgart. Weisenthal refuses the items, but remembers the address, etching it into his brain.
Weisenthal goes on to survive the horrors of the death camps, but he never forgets the incident with Karl. He discusses it with his fellow inmates--who all tell him he did the right thing--but he cannot find peace with the situation.
Years later, Weisenthal is visiting Europe with his wife, as he is now part of a committee that helps track down Nazi war criminals. He decides to go to Stuttgart, and tracks down the mother of Karl. She is now her widow, her husband having been killed in the bombings, and she lives in a virtual ruin. On her mantle is a picture of a handsome young man in uniform, and Weisenthal sees Karl's face for the first time. He also listens to his mother's tale--how Karl had been a good boy, but then he went and joined the Hitler Youth with his friends. Karl's father, a staunch social democrat, was disgusted by his son's embrace of Nazism, but feared saying anything, since the Hitler Youth were indoctrinated to inform even on their own parents. Later, when Karl joined the SS, his father was devastated, and for all intents and purposes disowned him. The mother then talks about the reports coming in from the east of what was happening--the atrocities. But nobody believed them, and she knew her Karl would not have done such a thing. Weisenthal wrestles with the question--should he tell this woman the truth about her son?
When she asks him how he knew Karl, Weisenthal makes the choice--and lies, not telling the mother the truth.
Even at the end of the book, Weisenthal comes to no definitive conclusion about his choice. Did he do the right thing? Should he have forgiven the dying man? He did believe Karl's remorse was genuine, but he also points out it was a deathbed confession. Would Karl have been so remorseful had he not been dying? Would he have gone on committing crimes? Had he been brought to trial, would he been one of the few who actually did express remorse, or would he have claimed to only be obeying orders?
The rest of the book is filled with the contributions of numerous scholars, secular and religious leaders, authors, etc. Among those presenting arguments are Desmond Tutu, the Dalai Lama, and even Albert Speer, writing from Spandau prison.
So what should he have done? What would you have done?
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Zylka
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I think I would have forgiven him, and believe in such emotional mercy for anyone truly regretful of such horrible actions
Another "my grandpa" ww2 story for poly... My grandfather spent the war in a forced labour camp when captured (around 16 years old) in Poland. He has never gone into detail, but simply said he witnessed the worst things possible happen to his family and fellow prisoners - all the while enduring like hardships. Upon liberation in the camp, a British soldier handed him a revolver and pointed to the group of captured soldiers, saying that he could kill anyone that caused him great pain. Not lacking a selection of specific bastards to pull the trigger on, he turned and walked?
From what you've described, the book has a rather non-conclusive and frustrating plot. That's reality, I guess
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Boris Godunov
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Portland, OR
Aug 2001 time: 00:26
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Sloww, it is not obvious to me what he "should" have done, nor to him, apparently, since he still wrestled with it for years after the fact. Feel free to spell it out for us.
Japher--A similar point was brought up by several of the contributors. Since there really isn't such a thing as "collective guilt," there also is not "collective forgiveness." How could Weisenthal rightly forgive a man for a crime that wasn't committed against him? Wasn't the right of forgiveness reserved solely for the victims?
If Karl was asking for forgiveness in general for the mistreatment of the Jews, how could one Jew grant such a thing?
But, if we suppose that Karl's repentance was genuine (which Weisenthal believed), and his conscience was in torment, does any of that really matter? Does it come down to just a lone Jew and a lone SS man in a room, and one having the power to ease the other's suffering, and then choosing not to do so? Would his forgiving Karl make a difference to anyone else except Karl and Weisenthal?
This is why it's a complex situation.
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Zylka
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What is the point of forgiving to promote your own identity?
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Ozz
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Canada
Mar 2002 time: 05:26
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No problem, just tell the truth
1. Karl is asking the wrong man, only his victims or in
his case a RC priest can forgive (which is B.S.). Tell
him to explain it to God and off the S.O.B.
2. Tell his mom the truth or nothing. Sparing her just
covers the enormity of the crimes her son committed.
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Boris Godunov
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Portland, OR
Aug 2001 time: 00:26
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quote: Originally posted by SlowwHand
Not to argue the point, but I wasn't that vague.
I noted SHOULD vs. CAPABLE.
SHOULD have been a big clue. 
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Unless someone is a mindreader and knows what you think he "should" have done, it is indeed vague. You could, for all we know, think he SHOULD have kicked the guy in the keester.
quote: I'm not going to cheat by looking again, rather I'll test my fading retention.
The Geman didn't ask Weisenthal for absolution on behalf of the Jewish community as a whole.
He asked him for forgiveness at a personal level.
Right? |
I will have to read the precise text in the book again, but it would be nonsensical if Karl was asking for personal forgiveness from Weisenthal, considering he didn't know Weisenthal, hadn't done anything to him and just had the nurse bring him a random Jew from the courtyard. Since Weisenthal's selection was random, I can only assume that Karl viewed him as representing Jews.
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Boris Godunov
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Portland, OR
Aug 2001 time: 00:26
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I'd rather this not be a debate over the merits each other's answers, Che. Just give your own.
Later I will try to post the entire recount of Karl's narrative. Weisenthal does not call him a monster, che, and when you read the details of the massacre, it's not so cut-and-dried.
I will say that I think telling a poor widow, a woman who has hurt no one and lost everything, who has nothing left her save the image of her son as a good boy, the truth would be a dispicable act of cruelty to someone who does not deserve such a thing. There are cases where honesty is not the best policy.
Last edited by Boris Godunov on 21-02-2003 at 01:17
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MichaeltheGreat
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Apolyton Grand Executioner
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mooning the house that Ruth built.
Oct 1999 time: 21:26
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(a) It does no harm to forgive - the man's paying the price, you know it, he knows it. He's dying at age 22, cut short like the lives he participated in taking.
(b) No need to tell the truth to the mom - she's a widow, lost her only? kid, and doesn't have much of anything other than a memory. The specific crime, and many others, are widely known, so shattering her memory of her son and leaving her with nothing isn't necessary.
Chegitz - the victims (in this scenario) don't enter into it. Nothing can be done for them, it's just a dying kid who's an SS trooper, and his widowed mom later.
The kid dies either way, shot or blasted to hell and in pain, but with at least some regret for what he did. The mother had nothing to do with it, so what great service to the victims is done by shattering what memories she has - since they're all she has?
Is creating more anguish the way to show compassion for the victims?
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Bereta_Eder
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Just read a couple of lines from Boris' text (summary would be nice to those who don't have the time/will) but
quote: Originally posted by MichaeltheGreat
Is creating more anguish the way to show compassion for the victims? |
Not getting the truth out is both an insult to the inoccent victims as well as hindering the efforts for such Nazi attrocities as this never to happen again IMO.
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