Australia / Israel Review

AIJAC was deeply saddened by the passing on October 18 of Professor Yehuda Bauer, a towering figure in Holocaust studies for more than half a century, at the age of 98. AIJAC had the privilege of hosting Prof. Bauer in Australia on more than one occasion, and his unmatched knowledge, his meticulous scholarship and his overwhelming moral authority were always more than apparent. So too were his puckish sense of humour and original way of thinking. Both are very much on display below in this piece which he wrote shortly before his death – as a moving and unique “self-eulogy”. 

I realise that it isn’t customary for a deceased to eulogise himself. More often than not, his role is to be lying silently, deaf to the praises and veneration.

If he could hear, he would be shocked by the exaggerations and misrepresentations, and blush with shame. It is in the nature of things that deceased people find it hard to blush. Too late. Such is also the case at hand. Taking this important issue into consideration, I have decided to write my own eulogy, clearly realising that the person most familiar with me is me. This is going to be a long eulogy. What can you do?

I hope I passed away with not too much suffering. They say the process of dying isn’t pleasant, but I cannot tell how it went with me, so cannot report about it. Any historian knows, anyway, that oral testimonies must be crosschecked, except that in this case, this is hard to do. As I do not believe in either kingdom come or in a higher power that regulates our life and death, I am certain I will not rest in heaven; I will just finally rest. Oh, well. Just, as Herzl probably said, don’t do anything stupid while I am dead – this instruction is intended for daughters, sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but also to anybody who is listening.

All in all, I have had a good life, nothing to complain about. I was born in Prague, as you may know, to parents who loved each other very much – Uly and Victor Bauer. Since boyhood, I saw my father as more or less my god; it remains so to this day. I look like him, our body language is entirely identical, my voice is his voice. I am just doing an impression of him. I have not achieved his incredible moral stature; more’s the pity.

In 1943 we demanded to enlist in either the military or the Haganah, but they talked us into taking our matriculation exams, and so I set out for the Palmach in early summer of 1944. After my discharge, I attended the Hebrew University for one year, and then received the single scholarship that the Mandate government awarded to Jews in the humanities, and went to Cardiff in Wales, well stocked by Mum with the finest European clothes – that were entirely inappropriate for a student in Britain in 1946. By 1945, I was already a member of the Hashomer Hatzair party, even though I actually grew up in the Scouts party, and was supposed to be one of the founders of Kibbutz Hatzerim. Instead, I went back to Cardiff to complete my BA and MA [after Israel’s War of Independence, during which he came back to join the fight. Ed.] Upon returning to Israel, I landed at Kibbutz Shoval on March 23, 1952.

Gabriel Kitain, who was duty roster coordinator at the kibbutz, sent me to work the fields on the sled for hours each day, piling up bales of hay. “If he survives this”, he said, “he will remain here.” I did. My life on the kibbutz for 41 years has been good. I was a cowherder, a cowboy – that is, a dairy farmer – and I enjoyed myself. I did my doctorate in 1960 with Prof. Israel Halperin, about the Palmach, because I was crazy. In 1955 I married Shula and we lived together for 35 years. We raised two daughters. I have lived with Ilana for 25 years after my divorce.

I did a lot of work, I have dealt with the most horrific issues a Jewish historian can deal with, and if not for my family and my hobby of folk music, I would not have been able to stand that. Even the start of my preoccupation with genocide was first and foremost due to moral considerations I got from my father. I have met prime ministers, kings, presidents, I made great speeches, because I had the gift of gab, as is evidenced by this eulogy. I was able to express myself. The honours did tickle my ego – it would be hypocritical to deny it – but the main thing was to promote an understanding of things, including the issue of genocide. I was among the founders of an international group that addressed the issue both theoretically and politically.

And what does Yehuda Bauer leave behind? A large pile of books and articles. All this will eventually be forgotten, as everything in this world is subject to oblivion. There remain five grown up children, my own two daughters and Ilana’s three sons, eight grandchildren and four, later more, great-grandchildren, and several thousand students, in Israel and abroad. Those students may have absorbed some of what I tried to teach them, and perhaps a little more.

Was I an Israeli patriot? A Zionist? Though I was not born here, this is my country, and I wouldn’t leave it even if I was promised fortunes – in fact, they did promise, and I turned them down. I hope that my offspring here don’t leave it, because that battered cliché is true: we have no other country, and don’t have another people, screwed up though this one is. 

As Chaim Weizmann once said: This is the best Jewish people we have got. We have to do what we can with it. I belong to this people despite the fact that, in principle, I find it hard to belong to any human group that will accept me as a member. But I did not choose to be Jewish, I was born into this business through no fault of my own. The truth is, I have not only made my peace with this, I am even happy about it. If you have to be born into some ethnic group, it’s better to be born Jewish. It is a fascinating, annoying, disgusting, exciting, horrific, wonderful people.

I do not believe in utopias because every utopia eventually leads to murder. But I do believe that you can fix, at least somewhat, even the Jews. Even the world – if only very slightly. So, as I have said, give it a try. Forgive me this long eulogy, I promise not to write another one. And don’t cry – smile a little. It’s best to smile, even to laugh, as long as you still can. So give it a try. Peace be unto you.

Professor Yehuda Bauer was Professor of History and Holocaust Studies at the Avraham Harman Institute of Contemporary Jewry at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and an academic advisor to Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Memorial Centre in Jerusalem. He was also the first academic advisor to the International Holocaust Remembrance Association [a predecessor of the contemporary International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance] when it was founded in 1998. Over his long career, Bauer published over 40 books on the Holocaust and antisemitism. Among the most famous and influential are They Chose Life: Jewish Resistance in the Holocaust (1973), The Jewish Emergence from Powerlessness (1979), American Jewry and the Holocaust (1981) Jewish Reactions to the Holocaust (1989), and Rethinking the Holocaust (2001). The above was originally published in the Israeli daily Haaretz. © Haaretz (Haaretz.com), reprinted by permission, all rights reserved.