Lessons From Elie Wiesel

When I heard the Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel speak this spring, a few days after Holocaust Remembrance Day, he gave life to horrors of nearly seven decades ago – horrors that even now give me a chill. The author of Night, which has won wide recognition and is still required reading in schools, and nearly 60 other books, has recorded his moments and memories in fiction and non-fiction alike, in plays and prose. 

At Adelphi, Dr. Wiesel held nearly 1,200 people spellbound and received two standing ovations in recounting his life as Auschwitz prisoner "A-7713" and as a story-teller for humanity. "How can I be human in my own eyes and not be sensitive to the needs of other people?" he asked.   

His challenge to being sensitive to the humanity and needs of others, including Palestinians, by the way, made me think of how we have tried to encourage rational discussion and distinctions regarding immigration, the undocumented and the children brought here at a young age and caught in the middle between their parents and public policy. 

For someone who was persecuted and imprisoned, Dr. Wiesel was surprisingly peaceful, not angry at his captors who thought him and his kind imperfect, or his critics, who want him to be perfect in their image, even if he sees a different path for humanity. Instead, he focused attention on two words with significant meaning to him, and to us, "witness" and "indifference." We must all witness, he says. To do otherwise, to be indifferent, is the ultimate crime. 

Wiesel says indifference "is the epitome of evil," the opposite of love. Being indifferent is to be uncaring, uninvolved, lacking a position. For most of us, life is about expressing emotion, about taking a position of caring – for oneself, for one's family, for others. Again, I thought of the trials and tribulations of those whose path to health and happiness is blocked by prejudice based on religion, race, ethnicity, nationality – against others. 

I recall a small sign, located in numerous locations at a camp I attended when young, which had one word on it, "Others."  The idea was that we campers should think of others, consider others, respect others, care for others, help others, leave the campsite clean for others. The lesson, of course, was to be carried beyond the campgrounds to our homes, neighborhoods, schools, playgrounds – even the highways and byways. 

To think of others, to consider the needs of others, is the opposite of indifference; "others," as a sign, as a prompt for living one's life, is a reminder of Wiesel's words. With "others" as our watchword, we cannot be indifferent. 

"Witness" is more complex. It is both a noun and a verb, never neutral. The witness is an observer; the witness gives testimony; the witness represents a larger meaning; the witness speaks. 

The witness is found in court, in church or other religious institutions, at the dinner table, on the opposite street corner. The witness may be voiceless, but bears responsibility for his or her silence. Think of infamous incidents such as those involving the murder of Kitty Genovese more than 50 years ago, or comparable incidents more recently, some even recorded by cell phone video, while witnesses watched and others suffered.   

Social scientists call this "bystander effect," concluding that the likelihood of any one person bearing witness decreases with the number of people present. Yet Wiesel, and I, would say that the presence of a crowd does not diminish the imperative for the individual to report what is seen.

As Wiesel said, "I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."   

To me, this means that we witness not only that which we see nearby, but also that which we know is occurring elsewhere, perhaps down the street, in the next town, in an adjacent country. That is, we must not only testify on behalf of the act or accident in our sight, but also to horrific acts beyond our view.   

Like Wiesel, we cannot be indifferent to the sufferings in Darfur, Kandahar, Palestine or Chicago school yards, or Long Island streets, for these, too, are ours to "witness," a burden and responsibility that comes with our humanity. Imagine if those who knew about random attacks on Latino neighbors had come forward.  Their witness could have prevented a death that their indifference allowed. These are lessons worth learning.

(Editor's Note: Dr. Robert A. Scott is the president of Adelphi University in Garden City.)