Holocaust – Page 2

Anne Frank exhibit on now

Created in 1995, the traveling exhibit Anne Frank: A History for Today is on display roughly 300 times a year. Mainly for school groups, people can visit the exhibit at Seaforth Armoury Nov. 11. (photo from Anne Frank House)

The traveling exhibit Anne Frank: A History for Today, hosted by the Consulate General of the Netherlands, is at Seaforth Armoury until Nov. 21. An opportunity for school groups to learn about Anne’s story and the legacy of her diary, the exhibit tours have already sold out, but the public is welcome to visit on Remembrance Day, Nov. 11.

While this is not the first time the exhibit has been in Vancouver, its presence at the armoury and museum is poignant. Started in 1920 by Scottish Canadians, infantry from the Seaforth Highlanders were on the ground in Amsterdam on May 8, 1945. They entered the city as part of the Allies’ liberating force.

Following months of battles and Germany’s surrender, the Seaforth Highlanders offered humanitarian aid to the city’s population. The close ties between the regiment and the people of the Netherlands are commemorated every year.

The school tours at Seaforth Armoury are led by volunteers trained by Phyllis Lewis, a staff member of Anne Frank House, said the house’s director of Canadian activities, John Kastner.

Arriving on Nov. 5, the exhibit required about six people half a day to set up, then there was peer training. The response to the call for volunteers was excellent, said Kastner, as has been the level of interest from local schools.

“I think the premise is from Anne Frank House in Amsterdam – there’s real value for people to become ambassadors of the message. People that are close to the same age as Anne are particularly effective when it comes to relaying the message of the diary,” he said.

Not all the exhibit’s stops are in metropolitan areas. Kastner described its journey to Anne Frank Public School in Vaughan, part of the Greater Toronto Area, then it went to Marathon, a mining community on the shore of Lake Superior, then to All Saints High School in Toronto, before being displayed at Ottawa’s Beechwood Cemetery (Canada’s national military cemetery) and the Dutch consulate in Vancouver, which sponsored it.

And the exhibition will keep moving, said Kastner. “It’s been very busy in 2025 – demand has been very steady and it has hardly been in storage at all.”

Created in 1995, the Canadian exhibitions are just some of the many around the world, in languages including Albanian, Arabic, Bengali, Bosnian, Korean, Macedonian and two forms of Portuguese. In total, the exhibit is on display roughly 300 times a year.

Paired with a 30-minute film, Who was Anne Frank?, the tour takes about 90 minutes. It comprises 11 panels of information that are the same worldwide and the 12th panel is curated specifically for the region. The version that arrived in Vancouver this week references the liberation of Amsterdam and all the panels are in both English and French, which is the case for all the Canadian showings, though the exhibit for northern Ontario is also in Inuktitut.

The docents bear a responsibility as ambassadors for Anne’s legacy and message, said Kastner. “You want people who are in classrooms, at dinner tables, in peer groups at schools, who are aware of the story, that become advocates of fairness, opponents of racism, opponents of prejudice, and we really see it in real life – that those docents become docents of the message of Anne Frank House.

“Every generation that comes through, you create a new generation that becomes familiar with the story and the messaging of Anne Frank – not only what she went through, but her optimism in a world surrounded by hate, prejudice and violence…. As people go through the exhibit, they become aware of what an important story it is,” said Kastner. “They come to realize that it is, by definition, a history for today – that it has relevance in today’s society.”

photo - Anne Frank, in 1941. The traveling exhibit Anne Frank: A History for Today is at Seaforth Armoury until Nov. 21 — Anne Frank, in 1941. The traveling exhibit Anne Frank: A History for Today is at Seaforth Armoury until Nov. 21. *(photo from Anne Frank House)*

Kastner spoke about his personal connection to Anne’s remarkable outlook and values, referencing her often-quoted diary entry of July 15, 1944: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

“I wish we could all be as optimistic as Anne was,” he said. “It was remarkable.

“There have been many periods since the Second World War when we’ve had many reasons to be pessimistic, and that’s why it’s a history for today. It’s a recurring message that continues. After 75 years, it still has relevance.”

Kastner praised the design of the exhibit, calling it “fantastic.”

“There’s a timeline ribbon that goes down the centre … the date and the year. Above the ribbon is what is happening in the world politically at the time. Below the ribbon is how it’s impacting people – Anne, her family and everybody else,” he explained. “The idea is that [some people think] what you see on the news doesn’t really matter…. This says, it should matter, it does make a difference. And that creates an awareness of current events, of being involved … of speaking out. Even in minor cases of prejudice, it’s problematic and [can lead] to a greater problem.”

When talking about this idea in Marathon, Kastner gave the example of name-calling. “Calling someone a name, a slur, we can see it as problematic but not the end of the world,” he said. Or, “graffiti on a kid’s locker, that’s not very nice, but it’s not the end of the world – but it leads to a huge problem when [such actions] become the norm.”

Kastner spoke highly of the 3D model of the house, which is “one of the great learning tools that goes with the exhibit.” There is power in asking teenagers, “Who can tell us where Anne slept?”

“When I went to Anne Frank House to work there, where my workspace was, I’d be looking at the courtyard and at the Annex, looking at the tree, and it’s absolutely surreal,” he said. “Being in the presence of that kind of history. There’s no replacement for that.”

It’s the same tree Anne would have seen.

“I’d be in her father’s office at the warehouse and there are all sorts of people traipsing through the house,” he said, and he’d think about “how you [would have] had to be deathly quiet, completely stationary, because people were using that office.”

Certain questions come up time and again. Students want to know how the Holocaust started, for example.

“The Holocaust didn’t start with people getting loaded on trains,” Kastner explains to the kids. “The Holocaust started with all sorts of things that Anne talks about – her bike being taken away, not being allowed to swim in the public pool, not being allowed to take public transit, then extended to larger things. Her dad not being allowed to have a job or own property.… It starts by slow increments.”

At Anne Frank Public School in Vaughan, the kids asked Kastner how Anne’s diary got published. He described the return of Anne’s father, Otto Frank, to the Annex, which had not changed since the day their hiding place was discovered. He told the students that Miep Gies, who had helped hide Anne and her family, “had taken the diary after the Nazis had left and kept it, gave it to Otto and he read through it and then said, I should publish this.”

Kastner said the kids marvel at the serendipity, the turn of events that led to “one of the most important books written by somebody under the age of 16.” He added, “The kids say that it’s amazing that [Otto] survived, that he got the book, that somebody wanted to publish it and then the idea that it’s become standard reading for millions of kids 70 years later.”

During the exhibition’s stop at Beechwood Cemetery, Kastner recalled two students asking him, “What is it about Jewish people? Why do they pick on Jewish people?” And, “Why didn’t somebody do something?

Kastner explained the scapegoat theory to these students. “It’s in Shakespearian plays, it’s throughout history: the idea of a common enemy often solidifies a group,” he said.

Each exhibition site brings different opportunities for learning, said Kastner. Getting it to remote locations can be tough but it’s worthwhile. Shipping the panels to Marathon, for example, was challenging, but Kastner applauded the motivation of the school there as “very noble and progressive.”

“Every place it goes, it has a different impact and it’s going there for a different reason,” said Kastner of the exhibition.

“The message,” he said, “is in Anne’s experience, Anne’s death – that has relevance in today’s society.”

Shula Klinger is an author and journalist living in North Vancouver.

Reminder of humanity’s light

The passage across the Øresund, the body of water that separates the Danish peninsula from Sweden, is, at its narrowest, about the same distance as Horseshoe Bay to Bowen Island. But the waters can be treacherous – especially when it’s 1943 and the waters are swarming with Gestapo Kriegsmarine boats. Yet, for two weeks at the beginning of October 1943, 7,000 Danish Jews – about 95% of Danish Jewry (including the wonderful Victor Borge) – were safely transported across the Øresund in small fishing boats to the “sacred soil” of neutral Sweden.

In his new book, A Light in the Northern Sea: Denmark’s Incredible Rescue of Their Jewish Citizens During WWII, Tim Brady, author of the popular story of the Dutch Resistance Three Ordinary Girls, uses his excellent narrative skills to outline in detail how Danish Jews were warned about Nazi deportation plans, how they escaped and how they were treated when they arrived in Sweden.

Brady has described himself as a storyteller, rather than as a professional historian, but he has done his research and he tells this story in great detail. As he did with Three Ordinary Girls, Brady brings history alive with the telling of stories through the eyes of participants, rather than simply cold facts. The eyes here are, for the most part, those of the remarkable Dutch resistance fighter Jurgen Kieler, whose recently published memoirs (encouraged by Elie Wiesel) would not have been available to earlier rescue historians.

Readers might be surprised that the “light in the northern sea” of the title refers to welcoming Sweden, not, as you might expect, given the book’s subtitle, Denmark. But, as Brady is quick to point out, the Swedish “light” was not always bright – before, and early in the war, Sweden had demanded that Germany mark the passports of Jewish emigrés with a “J” so they could be more easily refused, and Sweden refused potential Jewish immigrants who were not financially independent.

However, as Brady notes, largely due to the enormously influential intercession of the great Danish Nobelist Niels Bohr (a dedicated Nazi-hater) with the Swedish government, Sweden’s position regarding the Jewish immigrants changed radically by October 1943, when it decided to admit all 7,200 Jews fleeing the recently occupying Nazis in Denmark.

Swedes almost universally opened their homes to the Danish Jews. The refugees were also made to feel comfortable in churches, community centres, hotels and schools, as welfare agencies constructed camps, provided clothing and household items, and helped them find employment. Also, as Brady notes, during the post-rescue months of the Danish resistance, Sweden provided a 25 million kroner (about $70 million in today’s dollars) credit to help Denmark train and organize the Danish Brigade revolutionary group.

Interestingly, the “rescue of Denmark’s Jewish citizens” referred to in the book’s subtitle has a double reference for Brady. On the one hand, there is the escape across the Øresund. But there is a second “rescue” described in the ending chapters of the book. These chapters deal with the 1943-45 undertakings of the Danish resistance, including detailed accounts of both their successful and non-successful sabotage activities. However, most of these Danish fighters were ultimately captured, and Brady carefully narrates their terrible experiences in German concentration camps. But, once again, the Danish Jews were “rescued.” Thanks to a coordinated effort of the Swedish Red Cross and the Danish government, most of the Danish concentration camp prisoners were returned to Denmark in the remarkable “White Bus Rescue” that was made possible in March 1945 by negotiations instigated between the Swedish diplomat Folke Bernadotte and Heinrich Himmler, which Brady describes at the end of his book.

When put into historical perspective, as Brady is careful to do, the rescue of 95% of Danish Jewry, while utterly unique in Europe, was not completely surprising. At no time had Danish Jews been required to wear a yellow star. Moreover, King Christian X, while greeting his Danish subjects, would never salute the occupying Nazis, and would habitually visit Denmark’s Great Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. (King Christian, in contradiction to popular myth, never wore the yellow star – but he would later be placed under house arrest.) As well, Jews lived comfortably in Copenhagen; for 100 years, they had enjoyed full human rights and become very active in arts, politics and philanthropy. For these reasons, as Brady explains, and also because the Danish population was, in his words, “peculiarly democratic,” Germany hesitated to “twist the arms of Denmark regarding its Jewish problem” (no less was Denmark anxious to “poke the Third Reich bear,” as Brady puts it).

But how did the Danish Jews know about the Nazis’ plans to deport them? To answer this question, Brady emphasizes the courageous actions of Nazi diplomat Georg Duckwitz, whom history should celebrate as a kind of Raoul Wallenberg- or Oskar Schindler-type figure. With his life on the line, Duckwitz tipped off Danish authorities when, in September 1943, the Nazis decided to solve the Danish “Jewish problem” in the way history shows they “solved” other problems. Duckwitz also, after tipping off Danish authorities, courageously traveled to Stockholm to tell Sweden’s prime minister about the impending roundup of Danish Jews.

As a result of Duckwitz’s actions, Danes were warned in time of the impending roundup and, when the Gestapo came calling, there was no one home. Almost all (except the very ill and disabled who did end up deported) were in neighbours’ homes or schools, churches, hospitals or safe houses, preparing for their trip to Sweden.

Once the fishing boats were assembled, the flight to Sweden began in earnest. The boats were usually crammed; children and babies were usually sedated; and the passage was often rough, as high winds would often raise waves four to six metres high.

As an aside, in 1989, the annual Holocaust Symposium at the University of British Columbia arranged by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre focused on the Danish rescue. The speakers were a Danish Jewish woman who was rescued and a Danish fisherman who was among the rescuers. In the Q&A portion of their presentation, the fisherman admitted that he and the other rescuers charged as much as 1,000 kroner ($5,000 in today’s Canadian money) per “Jewish ticket.” Brady notes this, but finds it “understandable,” since the fishermen’s livelihood was at stake in crossing the Gestapo-infested Øresund.

All in all, the Danish rescue, as Brady presents it, is truly a remarkable story – and a welcome reminder that, even in the roughest seas and at the darkest times, the basic light of humanity can shine brightly.

Graham Forst, PhD, taught literature and philosophy at Capilano University until his retirement and now teaches in the continuing education department at Simon Fraser University. From 1975 to 2010, he co-chaired the symposium committee of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.

New bio gives Vrba his due

Rudolf Vrba, left, and author Alan Twigg at the University of British Columbia in 2001. Twigg’s new book on Vrba, Holocaust Hero: The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba, breaks much new ground. (photo by Beverly Cramp)

Celebrated German factory owner Oskar Schindler is estimated to have saved the lives of about 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust. Carl Lutz, a Swiss vice-consul in Budapest, is credited with organizing protective documents and “safe houses” that helped between 50,000 and 62,000 Jews survive. Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish envoy in Budapest issued passports and sheltered people in buildings, saving somewhere between 20,000 and more than 30,000 Jews. Chiune Sugihara, a Japanese consul in Kaunas, Lithuania, wrote thousands of transit visas, enabling about 6,000 Jews to escape via the Soviet Union and Japan, some of whom came to Canada and settled in Vancouver.

But few outside certain circles know of Rudolf Vrba. The late University of British Columbia professor of pharmacology escaped from Auschwitz and alerted the world to what was happening there. Estimates of the number of Jews saved by Vrba’s report vary, but a consensus among historians worldwide suggests he helped halt the mass deportation of more than 200,000 of Hungary’s Jews to Auschwitz. The late eminent historian Sir Martin Gilbert said of Vrba: “No other single act in the Second World War saved so many Jews from the fate that Hitler and the SS had determined for them.”

And yet, Vrba’s name remains largely unknown. This is not a coincidence. After the war, especially in Israel, there was a deliberate effort to downplay Vrba’s perspective of events.

A new book – the first of a meticulous two-volume assessment of Vrba’s life – has just been released by Vancouver author Alan Twigg. It goes great lengths to broadening awareness of Vrba’s heroism and correcting the many misconceptions around his legacy. In the process, Holocaust Hero: The Life & Times of Rudolf Vrba breaks much new ground.

Coincidental to the release of this publication, a monument to Vrba’s memory is to be unveiled later this month at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery, righting what many locals see as an unjust historic oversight.

While Vrba wrote his own memoirs, somewhat incredibly, Twigg’s book is the first real Vrba biography.

“There’s never been an in-depth biography of Rudolf Vrba,” said Twigg, who deliberately did not replicate the contents of Vrba’s own 1963 book, written with Alan Bestic, titled I Cannot Forgive and re-released in the 1980s as Escape from Auschwitz. “I tried to concentrate on information that was not available anywhere.”

While this first volume is an eye-opener for those who know nothing of Vrba, it contains bombshells and fascinating depth even for those who have read Vrba’s book or who otherwise know something about his story. And Twigg promises more to come in the next volume.

“The really revealing material is going to be in Volume Two,” Twigg told the Independent. “That volume will be almost entirely original material and it will show the evolution of Rudi’s character.”

Those who know of Vrba are aware of his daring escape. But that was, in many ways, the beginning of his historic story. He joined the Partisans and was a decorated war hero. He was an extraordinary intellectual, a difficult personality, had a dark humour many people didn’t understand, and carried anger throughout his life.

“I think it’s so important if you’re writing a biography to get across his character, not just the events of his life,” said Twigg. The participation of Vrba’s widow, Robin, was invaluable and the book includes extended transcriptions of Twigg’s engaging conversations with her.

Rudolf Vrba was originally a false name that came on the forged papers given to Walter Rosenberg soon after he filed his report and then joined the Czechoslovakian resistance after his escape from Auschwitz.

Born in Slovakia, Rosenberg/Vrba was transported to Auschwitz in June 1942. He steadfastly viewed the plunder of Jewish assets – not antisemitism as its own accelerant – as the motive for the Holocaust.

Vrba is said to have had a near-photographic memory, which allowed him to store away data that would change the course of history. It is believed that he greeted almost every train arriving at Auschwitz for 10 months, mentally noting estimated numbers and places of origin.

Eventually, he gained the coveted job of registrar of Birkenau’s quarantine camp, allowing him unusual access to additional information and limited freedom of movement. He learned that plans were afoot to liquidate the last remaining large population of European Jews – the 800,000 in Hungary – whose destruction would be streamlined by the construction of a new rail line to expedite transportation to the crematoria.

Vrba connected with Alfréd Wetzler, another Slovakian Jew who was registrar of the morgue.

On April 7, 1944, Vrba and Wetzler hid in a woodpile, still on the Birkenau site but outside the barbed wire prisoner encampment. Gasoline-soaked tobacco threw search dogs off their scent. They hid there for three days and nights as search parties worked 24/7 to find the escapees. After the intensive search was called off, they made their move.

The pair made an 11-day trek by foot through Poland to the border with Slovakia, where they connected with the Jewish community.

“Their feet were bloodied and misshapen,” Twigg reports. “A doctor was summoned. The malnourished pair recovered and soon cooperated with Jewish Council officials to produce an anonymous report that would be so detailed and emotionless that it could not not be believed.”

The Vrba-Wetzler Report, as it became known, was the first to have any significant reverberations, apparently because of the mathematical tallies and objective, scientific-like writing.

With the report, pressure came down on Admiral Miklós Horthy, the Hungarian leader viewed by most as a Nazi collaborationist, to halt the deportations of Hungarian Jews to Auschwitz. By 1944, the tide had begun to turn against the Nazis and so it was not moral considerations, Twigg suggests, that turned Horthy against the deportations, but the fear of war crimes charges after the war. Regardless of Horthy’s motivations, it was this impact of the Vrba-Wetzler Report that is believed to have saved at least 100,000 and as many as 200,000 lives.

The deportations did not end permanently, though. And here Vrba’s history is inescapably tied up with that of another Rudolf – Rudolf (Rezső) Kasztner, one of the most polarizing figures in Holocaust history.

“A controversy persists to this day as to the extent prominent Jewish and Zionist leaders should be held accountable for a myriad of failures to adequately inform Jews about the lethal dangers of boarding the trains,” Twigg writes. “For the rest of his days, Vrba would chiefly lay the blame for the failure to adequately inform approximately 800,000 Jews in Hungary about the Holocaust on Kasztner, the Zionist leader from northern Transylvania.”

Kasztner was the first non-Slovakian official to see the Vrba-Wetzler Report and a harsh dispute rages still around what happened next.

In meetings among the leadership of Hungarian Jewry, it was apparently Kasztner who pressed for an approach in which, rather than alerting the Jewish population, the leadership would keep the information to themselves and negotiate directly with Adolf Eichmann for favourable terms that made it possible for Kasztner and other senior Jewish figures to save themselves and a number of others.

Kasztner (and those sympathetic to his narrative) would have seen some logic in the fact that the Nazi war effort was foundering and the Germans desperately needed goods and money, something Kasztner and his associates believed they could access through Jewish channels internationally. With the Soviets approaching from the east, they may have thought they could buy time and save more than their limited numbers.

Eventually, Kasztner negotiated with Eichmann that a trainload of about 1,684 Jews, many or most of Kasztner’s own choosing, would set off for Switzerland. It is estimated that the passage for each passenger had been “bought” from Eichmann for about $1,000.

The passengers did not go directly to Switzerland, though, but were rerouted to Bergen-Belsen. Unlike the other Hungarian Jews arriving at the concentration camps, however, these 1,600 or so were kept separate and eventually did make it to Switzerland, in two transports, later in the year.

In the meantime, 400,000 Hungarian Jews were sent to Auschwitz, where almost all of them were murdered.

The title of Vrba’s book, I Cannot Forgive, is assumed to refer to the Nazis. Twigg, among others, believes it is simultaneously a reference to Kasztner and his coterie of Jewish leaders.

Vrba was openly critical of the Jewish leadership, particularly those in Hungary and especially Kasztner, who by this time had risen to a moderately senior post in the Israeli government, along with other Hungarian Jewish leaders who were senior or mid-level figures in the governing party, Mapai. To some extent, put simply, the Hungarian Jews who had negotiated with Eichmann and who Vrba blamed for preventing his report from saving exponentially more Jewish lives, became integrated into the nascent elite of the new Jewish state. It was decidedly not in their interests to have the provocative professor, now halfway around the world in Vancouver, obtain any wider audience for his book.

Ruth Linn, an Israeli scholar of moral psychology and Holocaust memory at the University of Haifa, has Vancouver connections and stumbled onto Vrba’s story a couple of decades ago. She could not understand why his name was almost completely unknown in Israel. She spearheaded the first publication of the Vrba-Wetzler Report in Hebrew, in 1998, and, in 2004, wrote Escaping Auschwitz: A Culture of Forgetting, which examined why Vrba’s account had been marginalized in Israel and how politics and memory shaped Holocaust historiography.

Capturing the dichotomy of the debate around Kasztner’s role in the Hungarian Holocaust, Twigg juxtaposes two quotes. An Israeli judge, Benjamin Halevi, said of Kasztner, “He didn’t sell his soul to the devil; he was the devil.” Canadian author and publisher Anna Porter, who has written about the subject, said, “If you’re in hell, who do you negotiate with but the devil?”

A 1955 libel trial instigated by Kasztner proved his undoing. Ostensibly a case against Malkiel Gruenwald, who publicized the wartime actions of Kasztner, the trial turned into an examination of the facts of the case. Halevi, the judge who deemed Kasztner the devil himself, ruled that, by saving a chosen few, Kasztner had sacrificed the majority of Hungarian Jews. More than two years later, Israel’s Supreme Court overturned the judgment, but Kasztner did not live to see his legal redemption. He was assassinated outside his home in March 1957.

Twigg came to the Vrba story more by happenstance than design. Twigg edited BC Bookworld, a newspaper about books and authors, for more than three decades.

“I used to keep track of all the books of British Columbia and I had categories,” he said. He could cross-reference, for example, all books on Japanese-Canadians or forestry.

Based on this knowledge, in 2022, Twigg wrote Out of Hiding: Holocaust Literature of British Columbia. (See jewishindependent.ca/a-roadmap-to-remembering.) Its largest, though still necessarily brief, section is on Vrba. However, this was inadequate for Twigg, who decided to expand the project – first as a comprehensive website (rudolfvrba.com) – now as this book.

Not directly related to Holocaust Hero but timely, if profoundly overdue, an ad hoc group of friends and admirers of Vrba will erect the world’s only monument to him on Sunday, Oct. 26, beginning with a ceremony in the chapel at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery at 2 p.m. The program will feature reflections on Vrba’s life, legacy and enduring impact from Dr. Robert Krell, Dr. Joseph Ragaz and Prof. Chris Friedrichs, and will conclude with the dedication of the memorial monument.

Survival in the forest

The harrowing new memoir by Vancouver’s Evelyn Kahn, They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph, written with her daughter Hodie Kahn, tells of a family’s survival while hiding in the forests of Eastern Europe.

They Never Left Me includes some of the most debasing inhumanity imaginable. Perhaps most shocking, though, is that human beings can withstand what the author and her family experienced and somehow endure and begin again in a post-Holocaust world, to raise a successful family and find meaning and happiness.

image - They Never Left Me book cover — Evelyn Kahn wrote They Never Left Me: A Holocaust Memoir of Maternal Courage and Triumph with her daughter, Hodie Kahn. On Oct. 19, at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, Evelyn Kahn will talk about the book with Dr. Robert Krell.

Stories of Chava’s (Evelyn’s) early years, typical of traditional Eastern European Jewish shtetl life – her father’s preparations for morning prayers, her mother baking round challah for Rosh Hashanah, a live fish floating around in preparation for gefilte – read as ominously ordinary, knowing as we do a little of what is to come.

From their hometown of Eishyshok, a shtetl in Poland that historically had shifted between Lithuania, Poland and then, tragically, between the Nazis and the Soviets, the family moved a few dozen kilometres to Lida, in what is now Belarus. This relocation, an economic move driven by her father’s proficiency in the Russian language, was the least dramatic move of Chava Landsman’s young life. Nonetheless, that move might have been the first of many near-miracles that saved the lives of Chava and the women in her family.

“On the eve of Rosh Hashanah 1941, Eishyshok’s Jews were rounded up and locked in the synagogue and two schools. After three days, they were herded to the horse market.… Over the next two days, the Jews were taken in groups of 250 – first the men and then the women and children – to the old Jewish cemetery. They were ordered to undress and stand at the edge of large open ditches, where they were shot to death by Lithuanian police. Babies were bashed to death against headstones or tossed into the air for sharpshooting practice led by the chief of police, Ostrauskas, before their tiny lifeless or quivering bodies were thrown into the killing pits to join their parents. Everyone was murdered.”

The final victim of the massacre was the town rabbi, “shot after being forced to witness the murder of his entire flock.”

As the Nazis invaded Lida, the family witnessed the aerial bombardment and made the decision to flee. They headed south, and sought refuge in another shtetl, Zhetel. But this was a brief refuge – not an escape. Death was chasing them.

Chava’s father was rounded up during a cull of intelligentsia on July 23, 1941, barely a month after they arrived.

“We watched in misery as Papa climbed into the back of a truck and was driven away,” she writes. “I never saw my father again.”

Chava’s Uncle Chaim and Rivke’s husband Shael were conscripted into the Red Army, leaving the women as the only family together in the Zhetel ghetto, which was created in February 1942. Chaim was captured by the Nazis, but incredibly escaped a POW camp and returned to Zhetel, where he became a Partisan in the forest and was killed. On April 30, 1942, the first liquidation began in the Zhetel ghetto.

“My own memory of the procession along the street is of being corralled into a narrow funnel and of feeling smothered by the crush of human bodies around me,” she writes. “I remember telling my mother I could not breathe. I was worried I might pass out and be trampled. People were on top of one another – on top of me – crying and tearing their hair out. I wanted Mama to pick me up, but it was impossible. We were compressed like livestock in a cattle chute. I just held onto Mama’s hand and prayed that mine would not slip out of hers.”

In terror, Chava told her mother she was being suffocated.

“She bent down close to me and I will never forget her tearful words,” Kahn writes. “My child, it is better that you should suffocate here than my eyes should witness you being murdered.

“I took in what she said and then simply asked, ‘Does it hurt to die, Mama?’ She assured me it was a peaceful experience. ‘Neyn mayn kind, es iz vey a feygele, git a brum’ (‘No my child, it is like a chirp of a bird’).

“Her answer quieted my fears and calmed me. I was never afraid of death from that moment on. I never remember feeling despair. On the contrary, I was exceptionally calm and clear throughout the nightmare to come.”

Somehow, the women survived the first liquidation. When the second and what would be the final liquidation of the ghetto began on Aug. 6, 1942, 3,000 Jews were herded to the Jewish cemetery and murdered. Knowing what was to come, Chava’s mother Basia decided to risk going into hiding – a choice between instant death and likely later death for disobedience. Again, it was a lifesaving decision.

Basia, Chava and her grandmother (Bobe) Hoda fled to the forest. Miraculously, with the help of a non-Jewish friend of the family, they were reunited with Chava’s Aunt Rivke, and the three adult women and Chava would endure the horrors of life in the woods for two years. (Shael fought with the Red Army through the war and survived, but he and Rivke did not reunite.)

The women largely fended for themselves with some assistance from Partisans and the occasional righteous non-Jew. Like other Jews in the forests at the time, they formed fluctuating ad hoc survival “family groups” of a dozen or as many as 20 people.

“We had learned the rules of the ghetto and we had survived. Now we would have to learn the rules of the forest. And we would have to learn them very, very well and very, very quickly. We could either adapt and hopefully live or not adapt and definitely die.

“We lived with the constant nervous anticipation of being discovered and killed at any moment. We were careful to speak quietly. We were always alert. We became as hypersensitized and wary as the creatures of the forest.”

In winter, they sheltered in holes in the ground.

“Needless to say, hygiene and maintaining our health in the forest was hugely challenging,” Kahn writes. “We were malnourished and vitamin deficient. We were unwashed and unkempt. We wore the same clothes day after day with no relief. We were filthy skeletons, bulked up only by the layers of our lice-infested clothing, which we wore 24 hours a day. I often wonder how we managed to survive those two years without bathing.”

Basia’s doggedness saved her family. Even at 40 degrees below zero and with snow to her thighs, she would trudge out of the woods to beg or steal provisions from local farmers.

“It is true that many (most) farmers were unfeeling or, worse, informers. But it is important to acknowledge that there were those who hung onto their humanity during the war, righteous gentiles who were sympathetic and compassionate and gave us food and other necessities,” Kahn writes.

It is estimated that only one-half to one-third of the Jews who hid in forests survived to liberation. And, when “liberation” did come, and the Nazis were defeated, antisemitism remained. Many ordinary Russians, Poles, Lithuanians and Belarusians thought they had seen the last of the Jews and were not welcoming to the few straggling remnants who found their way back home.

The three generations of women – Bobe Hoda, mother Basia, Aunt Rivke and Chava, as well as Rivke’s baby, Joseph, who was born in and knew life only in the forest – remarkably survived and proceeded through a series of displaced persons camps, with schooling and vocational training for the young survivors. They had no family in the new state of Israel and so America seemed the more logical destination. At age 16-and-a-half, Chaya/Evelyn, her mother, aunt, cousin and grandmother were greeted at New York by the Statue of Liberty and a coterie of cousins. Eventually, Evelyn reconnected with a young man from Eishyshok, Leon (Leibke) Kaganowicz, who would become Leon Kahn and, because of American migration quotas, a Canadian who lived in Vancouver. Together, they became stalwarts of the Vancouver community.

Leon Kahn passed in 2003. His memoir, No Time To Mourn: The True Story of a Jewish Partisan Fighter, was published in 1978 and reissued in 2004. It will be released again this fall.

Evelyn has two sons, Mark and Saul, and daughter Hodie, as well as seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

The idyllic start of Chava’s life, surrounded by a tight and loving family and community, juxtaposes horrifically with the abrupt cataclysm of history that would follow. The survival of three generations of women in the forests of Eastern Europe is a monument to human resolve and resilience. They Never Left Me is a momentous contribution to the literature of the Holocaust.

An event featuring Evelyn Kahn in conversation about the memoir with Dr. Robert Krell will take place on Oct. 19, 2 p.m., at Schara Tzedeck Synagogue, presented by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, Ronsdale Press and Schara Tzedeck.

Vrba monument to be unveiled

photo - Rudolf Vrba, in the 1960s — Rudolf Vrba, in the 1960s. *(photo from University of British Columbia. Archives)*

Rudolf Vrba’s escape from Auschwitz and testimony helped alert the world to the horrors of the Holocaust, and Vrba is credited with saving the lives of more than 100,000 Hungarian Jews. On Oct. 26, 2 p.m., at Schara Tzedeck Cemetery Chapel in New Westminster, a commemoration ceremony will be held for Vrba. The program will feature reflections on his life, legacy and enduring impact from Dr. Robert Krell and Dr. Joseph Ragaz, and will conclude with the dedication of a memorial monument in Vrba’s honour.

Shoah’s generational impacts

Robert Krell did not identify as a Holocaust survivor until the age of 41. His evolving realization about his own experience mirrors a larger trend in the understanding of child Holocaust survivors. As a psychiatrist, academic and leading Holocaust educator, Krell has been at the forefront of this evolution.

In a new book, Emerging from the Shadows: Child Holocaust Survivors, Their Children and Their Grandchildren, Krell brings together a number of his lectures and presentations, as well as contributions from other scholars and survivors, to explore the multigenerational impacts of the Shoah on families.

Krell discusses a “hierarchy of survival” consensus that prevailed for decades after 1945, in which concentration camp survivors were perceived as the “real” survivors, followed by hidden adults, partisans, those who fled and others.

“Children caught up in the horrors were dismissed as ‘too young to be able to remember,’” he writes.

Krell was one of those children.

There were dark portents from the beginning of his life. When Krell was born, on Aug. 5, 1940, the Dutch hospital of his birth was already occupied as an SS headquarters.

After successive waves of neighbours and family had been relocated “to the east,” never to be heard from again, the Krell family was ordered to appear for deportation. Instead, they went into hiding.

Young Robbie was given up at the age of 2 by his parents, Emmy and Leo Krell. He was hidden by a Dutch Christian family, Albert and Violette Munnik, who he would come to know as “Vader” and “Moeder,” and their daughter (his “sister”) Nora.

The Munniks remained in Krell’s life until they passed, attending his university graduation, wedding and other simchas. They would eventually be honoured as Righteous Among the Nations at Yad Vashem.

“My days in hiding were the best that any hidden child could have had,” Krell writes.

This raises questions for him as a survivor and as a psychiatrist. “From where, then, derived my feeling that something enormous and hideous had occurred? From where came this unsettled feeling of whatever it is that haunts me still? Perhaps from the separation. Perhaps from the fear of discovery or the anxieties of the adults around me. Perhaps from my silence, the absence of ordinary play, the wish not to be disturbing or noticed.”

These feelings, which much later he would discover were common among people who, as children, had experienced similar things, drove him personally and professionally.

Krell’s self-realization that he was not only a second-generation survivor – the son of survivors – but a survivor himself, struck him at the 1981 World Gathering of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, in Jerusalem. It was a realization that others were coming to concurrently.

Later that decade, the seminal book Love Despite Hate: Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Their Adult Lives, by Sarah Moskovitz, signaled the beginning of a new understanding, and the identity of child survivors as a distinct category of survivors.

In 1991, the groundbreaking ADL/Hidden Child Conference, in New York City, attracted 1,600 participants, mostly child survivors. Krell summarizes the conversations that happened there as: “Thank God, I thought I was crazy. But you were crazy with the same issues. So perhaps we are normal.”

With Prof. Peter Suedfeld, former head of the University of British Columbia’s department of psychology, Krell conducted research into younger survivors and their children. They identified four paradoxes that were common in the families they investigated.

Survivor parents often expressed great pride in their children, but the perspective of the children was that they always fell short of fulfilling parental expectations and were often unaware of their parents’ pride.

Second, while children felt they had been provided with most of the material things, they reported feeling that they had missed out on receiving a set of values. This was belied by the evidence, Krell writes. “But it appears that, despite parental preoccupation with work and security, many second-generation survivors did absorb humanistic values for which the parents, of course, claim credit.”

The third paradox is that “though therapy groups of second-generation survivors emphasize complaints about earlier parenting, noting a relative lack of empathy for their problems, the same group members point out to each other their obvious humaneness, achievements and exceptional personal qualities.”

The fourth paradox has to do with the parental viewpoint that withholding information about their Holocaust experiences was crucial for the normal development of their children. “But from the point of view of the children, that past life was shrouded in an elusive mystery that prevented them from understanding the components of life in play from the Holocaust background,” Krell writes.

“Despite the overwhelming complexity of lives lived in the shadow of the Holocaust, it is remarkable that the havoc wreaked on Jewish children has not irrevocably crippled the next generations,” he notes, adding that 93% of Jewish children in Nazi-occupied Europe were murdered. “It is itself a miracle that so many of the remnants of surviving children and our sons and daughters have contributed so much. Let us be proud of that.”

Second-generation children learned quickly not to ask questions that could spur tears or other responses in their parents. Krell notes that some parents would ask why their children had not seemed interested in their Shoah experiences. In many cases, he urges members of the second generation to designate their children – the grandchildren of the survivors – to investigate the family history.

“They return with names, places of origin, descriptions of life (and of death), stories of defeat and loss, and of courage and heroism,” he writes. “They are enriched forever by knowing, for they are alive because their grandparents, against all odds, made it.”

Krell’s life has had multiple encounters with horrific history. In 1961, he was visiting Israel and his aunt got them seats in the courtroom of Adolf Eichmann’s trial.

In 1969, he was on TWA Flight 840 out of Rome when the plane was hijacked by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. The plane and its hostages spent several days in Damascus before being freed in Athens, after which he flew on to Israel.

“So, by age 30, I was a Jew who had survived two deadly enemies,” he writes.

Krell became an academic and a clinician, the director of child and family psychiatry at the UBC Health Sciences Hospital and director of residency training for 10 years. He was founding president of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, on whose board he remains an active member.

Krell is the author of 11 books, two dozen book chapters and many journal articles. His interests include the care of aging survivors of massive trauma. His memoir, Sounds from Silence: Reflections of a Child Holocaust Survivor, Psychiatrist and Teacher, was published in 2021, in which year he was also inducted into the Order of Canada. He and his wife Marilyn have three daughters and nine grandchildren.

Emerging from the Shadows includes lectures and speeches from Krell, as well as writings from Vancouverite Ed Lewin, Robert Melson, Harry Penn, R. Gabriele S. Silten, Leo Vogel and Zev Weiss.

In an epilogue, Krell reflects on the Oct. 7 terror attacks through the eyes of a Holocaust survivor.

Whereas the Nazis made some efforts to hide from the world their atrocities, the Hamas terrorists perpetrated their brutalities in broad daylight and livestreamed them online.

“It was done in daylight, recorded and distributed! How shall we ever rest again, given such knowledge?” he asks. “How shall a Jewish child/adolescent deal with this? And who can heal this fresh wound when the old wounds had only just begun to close after three or four generations?”

His conclusion: “May I suggest that we remain moral, courageous, and worthy of being a ‘a stiff-necked people,’ strong, proud, and determined.”

Ruta’s Closet reissued

Lady Esther Gilbert speaking at Vancouver City Hall April 8, when Vancouver Mayor Ken Sim proclaimed Ruth Kron Sigal Day in the city. (photo by Keith Morgan)

Ruta’s Closet, the Holocaust narrative of the late Vancouverite Ruth Kron Sigal, is being reissued for a new generation of audiences – and the book’s author is ensuring the survivor’s inspiring story of survival and resilience reaches the widest possible global audience.

Vancouver journalist Keith Morgan, who completed the book shortly before Kron Sigal’s passing, at age 72 in 2008, has updated the publication – and created an extensive range of multimedia projects to expand the impact of the written volume.

First issued as a fundraising initiative for the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, Ruta’s Closet was later published in the United Kingdom, with distribution there reaching new audiences.

The book recounts the harrowing survival story of the Kron family, imprisoned in the tiny Shavl (Šiauliai) ghetto in Lithuania, through the eyes of the youngest daughter, Ruta (later Ruth). Their survival against Nazi persecution hinged on the courage and resourcefulness of her parents, Meyer and Gita Kron, as well as the bravery of non-Jewish rescuers. Depicted with novel-like narrative power but rooted in rigorous research and eyewitness testimony, the memoir vividly portrays atrocities such as mass murder, a Nazi ban on Jewish births and the deportation of children to Auschwitz, while also shining a light on courage, compassion and human resilience amid the evil.

Kron Sigal didn’t live to see the book in print but she saw the final draft.

“She said to me shortly before she died, ‘You are going to carry on telling my story, Keith, aren’t you?’ And I said, of course I am,” Morgan told the Independent. “So, I took that on as a mission.”

Surveys indicating widespread ignorance of Holocaust history, combined with skyrocketing antisemitism, motivated Morgan to launch a series of Ruta’s Closet-related projects.

“We updated the book and decided it was time to go basically worldwide with this,” he said.

In addition to the re-release of the hard-copy, Morgan and his small team of colleagues recorded an audiobook and released an ebook. They revamped the existing Ruta’s Closet website and made it more interactive.

Working with Bill Barnes, a local radio producer, Morgan developed a 25-segment podcast.

“We are doing Zoom interviews with people around the world who are a part of a driving force behind an imaginative, creative initiative in spreading Holocaust awareness and education,” he explained. “I’ve got Ruth’s kids – Michael, Marilee and Elana – each week doing an introduction for book clubs.”

The VHEC has produced a downloadable guide for book clubs, as well as a teacher’s guide to the book, which makes it additionally relevant as British Columbia’s education curriculum mandates Holocaust education this year for the first time as part of the Social Studies 10 coursework.

“The beauty of it, for British Columbia, is it’s technically a local story,” Morgan said. “It’s about Ruth. It’s about somebody who came here and did a lot for her adopted society.”

photo - Journalist Keith Morgan, author with Ruth Kron Sigal of Kron Sigal’s memoir, Ruta’s Closet, is ensuring that her story of survival and resilience reaches the widest possible audience — Journalist Keith Morgan, author with Ruth Kron Sigal of Kron Sigal’s memoir, Ruta’s Closet, is ensuring that her story of survival and resilience reaches the widest possible audience. *(photo from Keith Morgan)*

Morgan, who spent many years as the crime reporter at the Province newspaper, met Kron Sigal when his editor asked him to take on a more uplifting assignment and begin a series about people doing good works at home and abroad.

“Somebody said, ‘Oh, you should talk to Ruth Sigal,’” who was sharing her Holocaust story with students. “I went to meet her. I was very impressed. She told her story and it had an amazing impact on me. I just knew this was an important story to tell.”

He found immediate support from Dr. Robert Krell, the founding president of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.

“Robert Krell kind of took me under his wing – he was a close friend of Ruth – and he said, ‘I’ve got just the guy to introduce to you, who will be really helpful to you for pulling the story together.’”

The person was renowned historian Sir Martin Gilbert.

“The British schoolboy in me thought, ‘How do I curtsy?’” Morgan joked.

Morgan met Sir Martin in London and got a one-on-one master course in writing about the subject.

“He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘You have to tell the story as though you were writing it for your newspaper and make it accessible to all people,’” Morgan recalled. “Sadly, Martin died [in 2015], but Lady Esther Gilbert took up his mantle and, since then, she’s been an ally and was very important in this edition in terms of going through it, adding bits here and there.”

She spoke at a ceremony at Vancouver City Hall on April 8 this year, when the mayor proclaimed Ruth Kron Sigal Day in the city.

Kron Sigal’s story resonates profoundly with people, according to Morgan.

“We can all relate to what happened to Ruth and her sister Tamara,” he said. “It also tells us compelling stories about how, through their own devices, they basically survived and helped others along the way. We also see what other members of the family did to help the broader community.… We get this family story, which, in itself, is very dramatic, but we also get this wider picture of how a community in the ghetto work with each other, help each other.”

Morgan sees Kron Sigal’s narrative as an inspiration not only because of her survival against the Nazis but in all she did after becoming a Canadian.

“Ruth came here, an adopted country, and spent 25 years at the Women’s Resource Centre and the VHEC Child Survivors Group,” said Morgan. “That’s an example to everybody: come into a new society, an adopted country, and just roll up the sleeves and get working. Isn’t that an example to anybody that comes in?”

No less a triumph, Morgan said, is the family Ruth and her husband, Dr. Cecil Sigal, created.

“You look at that family and you think, ‘Victory!” he said. “Because they beat Hitler.”

Power of propaganda

Understanding the past, including the darkest eras, can help people recognize the symptoms of a society going off the rails.

A forthcoming book for young readers, titled Can Posters Kill? Antisemitic Propaganda and World War II, by Torontonians Jerry Faivish and Kathryn Cole, explores how propaganda and racist imagery desensitized a society to atrocities.

Faivish, a retired lawyer, has collected Jewish posters since young adulthood, building one of the world’s largest private collections. The son of Holocaust survivors, he created this book with Cole, an illustrator, art director, editor, designer and publisher, to educate young people about the dangers of hatred and the powers of persuasion used for evil ends.

The richly illustrated publication spotlights how vivid imagery and repetition intended to evoke fear, distrust, loyalty or revulsion served to influence populations to accept (even collaborate in) barbarism.

“By understanding the visual language of propaganda from the past, we can learn to recognize and resist messages of hate – an essential skill in a digital world where information is spread in seconds,” according to the publisher, Second Story Press.

Aimed at readers 13 and up, this book about the past has its purpose firmly planted in the present and future.

“Like social media today,” write the authors, “visual communication in the ’30s and ’40s – from movies to newspapers to paper posters – was clever and interesting, engaging and effective. But, under Nazi manipulation, it became deadly.”

The focus of the book is visual, befitting a volume of this topic, with just enough copy to contextualize the imagery and point out salient aspects that the reader might not have noticed. It is also perhaps a perfect mix of text and graphics for the generation it aims to reach.

The authors provide a brief overview of the post-First World War economic conditions in Germany, the impacts of the Treaty of Versailles, and Hitler’s rise to power. This history tilled the soil for the hate-messaging showcased.

“A false message, when repeated often enough, can become the truth in the minds of people who are frightened, oppressed and searching for someone to blame for their misfortune during hard times,” the book warns.

Can Posters Kill? also delves into how graphic design played into the success of the brainwashing – “clever use of different typefaces grabs the attention of passersby,” among other innovations.

Joseph Goebbels, the Nazis’ minister of propaganda, who more than any other individual is associated with this sort of material, did not overestimate his audience.

“The rank and file are usually much more primitive than we imagine,” he is quoted in the book. “Propaganda must, therefore, always be essentially simple and repetitious. In the long run, only he will achieve basic results in influencing public opinion who is able to reduce problems to the simplest terms and who has the courage to keep forever repeating them in the simplified form, despite the objections of intellectuals.”

The messages his department imparted were subtle as sledgehammers.

In one poster, a doctor or scientist is looking through a microscope at a vicious “Jewish” disease devouring healthy tissue. Jews are characterized as sexual deviants and blamed for spreading tuberculosis, syphilis and cancer.

“It’s a chilling message because it can quickly turn into ‘kill or be killed,’” the book says.

In another poster, a Jew hovers menacingly over the globe, spinning a web from his index finger.

“This reinforces the Nazi-supported notion that Jews are power-hungry and backed by secret cabals or conspirators,” the authors write.

Jews are depicted as the mortal enemy of Christianity and the Star of David is equated alongside the communist red star, implying a dual-pronged threat to German society.

Faivish shares his family’s story: his mother’s experiences in various ghettos, work and concentration camps, and at extermination sites such as Auschwitz, and his father’s defiant escape from a cattle car headed for the gas chambers. Faivish’s father lost his parents and his eight siblings in the Holocaust. His mother had just one surviving brother and one remaining sister out of a family of 10.

Faivish goes into some detail about the experiences of his mother in the constellation of Nazi ghettos and camps, and his father’s unlikely survival in hiding, thanks to a gentile Polish family. He places significant emphasis on the heroism of non-Jews.

“After the war, my parents met in Bergen-Belsen, the DP camp where they married and started a family,” he writes. “My older sister was born there in 1949.… In 1952, my parents immigrated to Canada. In 1953, I was born in Montreal. For my parents, the question of how to deal with recurring hate, and what could be done about it, was more than philosophical. It became a guideline for how to live their lives and what to pass on to their children. The lessons they taught us are still applicable and valuable today.”

He includes nine values his parents instilled in him and that he hopes the book will pass on to others, including: be proud of who you are and embrace your faith and culture [because the] aim of the “Final Solution” was to annihilate Jews and to destroy Judaism; respect your fellow human beings and treat them well; and recognize and eliminate hate and evil as much as possible.

A timeline of historical events and an excellent glossary of relevant terms are included at the end of the book.

As British Columbia and other provinces institute mandatory Holocaust education in school curricula, books like Can Posters Kill? Antisemitic Propaganda and World War II provide powerful resources for educators to convey the lessons of history in ways that are impactful but age-appropriate, with undeniable and clear lessons around critical media consumption for contemporary generations.

While not formally related, the book is also a valuable complement to the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre’s current exhibition, Age of Influence: Youth & Nazi Propaganda, which is being reconfigured into a traveling exhibit.

Community milestones … for July 2025

photo - David Bercovici-Artieda’s The Fast Runner was nominated for six Leo Awards, with Bercovici-Artieda taking home the award for cinematography — David Bercovici-Artieda’s *The Fast Runner* was nominated for six Leo Awards, with Bercovici-Artieda taking home the award for cinematography. *(photo © David Bercovici-Artieda)*

The short film The Fast Runner, which was shot in the Greater Victoria area, won a 2025 Leo Award in cinematography for David Bercovici-Artieda. Bercovici-Artieda was also nominated for best direction, and the piece had six nominations in total.

The Leo Awards are a Project of the Motion Picture Arts & Sciences Foundation of British Columbia. This year, there were more than 1,300 eligible entries in 16 different program categories.

In addition to nominations for direction and cinematography, The Fast Runner was nominated for screenwriting (Michael Adams), production design (Sarah Monteith), costume design (Constance Moerman and Josie Saldat) and make-up (Teia Dumaresq, Akina McCrea, Lindsay Pilkey, Donia Nikoo, Naomi Burnell and Mayhanna Haslam).

“It’s not just about telling a story,” Bercovici-Artieda, the son of a Holocaust survivor, told the Independent earlier this year. “It’s about honouring the memory of those who lived through unimaginable horrors, including my own father. Every frame, every scene and every creative choice carries the weight of history – my family’s history.” (See jewishindependent.ca/balancing-education-and-art.)

For more about Bercovici-Artieda, the film and the many other awards and recognition it has received, visit thefastrunnerfilm.com.

* * *

At its annual general meeting last month, the Vancouver Holocaust Centre Society for Education and Remembrance presented its annual Life Fellow Award to Sidi Schaffer and Keith Morgan. The award is given to individuals who have made exceptional contributions to Holocaust education and remembrance.

Sidi is a Holocaust survivor and talented artist whose life and work are powerful testaments to resilience and remembrance.

photo - Sidi Schaffer — Sidi Schaffer *(photo from VHEC)*

Born in northern Romania, Sidi was just a child when she and her family were forced into the Czernowitz ghetto in 1940, and later deported to the Djurin concentration camp in what’s now Ukraine. They endured unimaginable hardship for four years before returning to Romania in 1945. Sidi later moved to Israel, where she earned her degree in art education, and eventually settled in Canada with her husband David and their three sons.

After completing a bachelor of fine arts at the University of Alberta, Sidi continued to use art as a way of processing and sharing her experience. Her piece “Earth, Don’t Cover Their Blood” (featured in the VHEC’s 1998 Gesher Project) remains a moving tribute to those lost – and a powerful educational tool.

Sidi continues to share her story and use her art to bear witness as a long-time member of the VHEC’s Child Survivor Group.

Keith, a best-selling author and award-winning journalist, has dedicated his work to preserving Holocaust memory.

photo - Keith Morgan — Keith Morgan (photo from VHEC)

Born in Blackpool, England, in 1954, he moved to Vancouver in 1980, where he became a columnist on cars and motoring for the Province and Sun newspapers.

In 1997, he wrote a newspaper feature about Ruth Kron Sigal and her community impact. Moved by Ruth’s family story and motivated by his own limited knowledge of the Holocaust in the Baltics, Keith collaborated with Ruth, the eldest daughter of Meyer and Gita Kron, on her memoir, Ruta’s Closet (Shavl Publishing, 2008), about the murder of 200,000 Lithuanian Jews during the Holocaust and the Kron Sigal family’s survival during the Nazi occupation of Lithuania.

Keith worked on Ruta’s Closet while working as a journalist, researching daily, conducting interviews and using his holidays to travel across Europe, Israel and North America. Since its publication in 2008, the book has become a vital educational resource. According to historian Sir Martin Gilbert, it is “one of the finest Holocaust memoirs.”

* * *

Wendy Cocchia, lieutenant governor of British Columbia, has accepted to serve as honorary patron of the Holocaust Theatre Production Society’s Survivors program. Patronage, in the spirit of supporting and encouraging meaningful initiatives, is a role of the Office of the Lieutenant Governor, rooted in the Crown’s tradition of recognizing and uplifting worthy endeavours.

The play Survivors, by Wendy Kout, is an hour-long educational drama that enacts the story of the Holocaust through eyewitness testimony of 10 survivors. Young and diverse audiences relate to the young and diverse cast, who are guides on the perilous journey of their ever-changing world. The survivors in the play also provide life lessons and encouragement to speak up and act up against hatred and bullying today. Suitable for young adult and adult audiences, this play about the past is a warning and a wakeup call for the present and the future.

As of June 30, Survivors was booked for more than 30 performances across Vancouver Island, bringing the society’s Holocaust education program to middle and high schools, both public and private, as far north as Campbell River.

Thank you to the Victoria Foundation for their support, which will ensure that the program can be delivered to Victoria schools in October.

Visit holocausttheatre.com for more information and to watch the trailer.

* * *

Last month, the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre presented the 2025 Meyer and Gita Kron and Ruth Kron Sigal Award for Excellence in Holocaust Education to Chantel Parsons. Chantel has consistently demonstrated an exceptional commitment to Holocaust education throughout her career, significantly impacting her students, colleagues and the broader school community.

photo - Chantel Parsons — Chantel Parsons *(photo from VHEC)*

Chantel is a geography and history teacher at Mark R. Isfeld Secondary School in the Comox Valley. The teacher’s Genocide 12 course, which centres on the Holocaust, remains one of the most popular senior-level electives at her school, drawing students eager to engage deeply with this critical history.

Chantel’s approach to Holocaust education is marked by historical precision, critical inquiry and meaningful impact. Her students explore complex issues around historical responsibility and the roles of perpetrators, victims, bystanders and resistors, challenging simplified narratives and examining the complexities of human behaviour during the Holocaust.

The lasting influence of her teaching is reflected in the words of a former student: “You were probably one of the best teachers I had. The focus you put on the atrocities in WWII, and the effort you put into teaching us how to recognize the patterns that lead up to events like this made me question a lot of things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise…. I often think back to things I learned in your class.”

A distinctive feature of Chantel’s teaching is her focus on Holocaust denial and distortion – topics often underrepresented in high school curricula. Her students study landmark Canadian legal cases concerning Holocaust denial, and benefit from guest speakers and witnesses connected to these cases.

Despite teaching in the smaller community of Courtenay, Chantel’s students access extensive enrichment opportunities through VHEC’s online programs. This year, her class participated in multiple live Zoom workshops, survivor speaker presentations, virtual exhibition tours and accessed a wealth of online teaching materials.

The Kron Sigal Award was established in memory of Meyer and Gita Kron and their daughter Ruth Kron Sigal, Lithuanian Jewish survivors of the Holocaust who reestablished their lives in Vancouver. Through their lifelong involvement with education and community, the family touched the lives of thousands of students. The award in their name is presented annually to British Columbian teachers who have demonstrated excellence and commitment to teaching students about the Holocaust and its important lessons for humankind.

* * *

photo - Gerri Klein (centre, seated) with some of her graduating colleagues at the 50th anniversary of the Winnipeg Health Science Centre School of Nursing — Gerri Klein (centre, seated) with some of her graduating colleagues at the 50th anniversary of the Winnipeg Health Science Centre School of Nursing. *(photo from Gerri Klein)*

Gerri Klein recently celebrated 50 years as a nurse! She was part of the first nursing class from the Winnipeg Health Science Centre School of Nursing.

During her career, Gerri, who now has a master’s in nursing (2003, University of British Columbia), has been honoured with the Canadian Diabetes Educator of the Year Award in 2020 and a Nurses and Nurse Practitioners of BC 2023 Nursing Award of Excellence: Excellence in Advancing Nursing Knowledge and Research. She currently works as a diabetes educator at BC Diabetes in Vancouver.

* * *

photo - Dr. Aaron Klein — Dr. Aaron Klein *(photo from Gerri Klein)*

Aaron Klein graduated from the University of Toronto with a doctor of philosophy, aerospace studies, department of mechanical and industrial engineering, on June 17, 2025. Aaron, who is working and living in Toronto, stays busy raising his young family with his wife Carolyn.

Forgotten music performed

Through a chance conversation with a curator at the Auschwitz Memorial and Museum, conductor and composer Leo Geyer came across musical scores composed by concentration camp prisoners during the Holocaust. June 3 to 7, at London’s Bloomsbury Theatre, the music Geyer documented was played for the first time in 80 years. (photo from Sky Arts)

In 2015, London-based musician and composer Leo Geyer was commissioned to write a tribute honouring British historian Sir Martin Gilbert, who had recently died. Visiting Oświęcim, Poland, to better understand the Holocaust historian’s research, a chance conversation with a curator at the Auschwitz Memorial and Museum led Geyer to a trove of forgotten musical scores composed by prisoners who had been forced to perform in the SS-run orchestras in the Nazi concentration camp, where more than 1.1 million died in gas chambers, mass executions, torture, medical experiments, exhaustion and from starvation, disease and random acts of violence.

The deteriorating and fragile sheets of music, written in pencil, were faded and ripped. Many had burn damage. Intrigued, Geyer devoted nearly a decade of detective work to studying the documents and filling in missing gaps, and the music formed the basis for his doctorate at Oxford University. From June 3 to 7, at London’s Bloomsbury Theatre, the music Geyer documented was played for the first time in 80 years, to commemorate the liberation of Auschwitz in January 1945. The opera ballet included the unfinished scores that Geyer completed and choreography by New York-born choreographer Claudia Schreier.

“The musicians took incredible risks to make brazen acts of rebellion. When good news of the war [of the Allies’ June 6, 1944, D-Day landings] reached the men’s orchestra in Auschwitz I, they performed marches not by German composers but by American composers,” Geyer said in an interview with France 24’s daily broadcast Perspective.

The guards couldn’t distinguish between a Strauss waltz and a John Philip Sousa march.

The musicians “would also weave in melodies from Polish national identity such as St. Mary’s Trumpet Call (a five-note Polish bugle call closely bound to the history of Kraków). We also know of secret performances [that] would take place, which would principally encompass Polish music, but we also know Jewish music was performed as well,” said Geyer.

The story of the orchestras at Auschwitz was popularized by Fania Fénelon, née Fanja Goldstein (1908-1983), a French pianist, composer and cabaret singer whose 1976 memoir Sursis pour l’orchestre, about survival in the women’s orchestra at the Nazi concentration camp, was adapted as the 1980 television film Playing for Time. The orchestra, active from April 1943 to October 1944, consisted of mostly young female Jewish and Slavic prisoners of varying nationalities. The Germans regarded their performances as helpful in the daily running of the camp in so far as they brought solace to those trapped in unimaginable horror. As well, the musicians held a concert every Sunday for the amusement of the SS.

Geyer explained that the SS organized at least six men’s and women’s orchestras at Auschwitz, and perhaps as many as 12. The groups principally played marching music as prisoners trudged to the munitions factories and other industrial sites, where they worked as slave labourers, he explained.

“Musicians had marginally better conditions than other prisoners,” he noted. Nonetheless, he said, “The vast majority of the musicians and composers did not survive the war.” Most of their names are lost. Geyer was able to track down the composer of one unsigned composition by comparing the handwriting to a document found at a conservatory in Warsaw.

Adding poignancy to the performances in London, the musicians played from copies of the original scores.

“We poured our heart and soul into these performances,” said Geyer. “I am neither Jewish nor Romani. But I am human.”

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.

* * *

A replica of Auschwitz

Due to conservation issues, the Auschwitz Memorial and Museum no longer permits the filming of movies at the historic site. Using advanced spatial scanning technology, the museum employed a team of specialists, led by Maciej Żemojcin, to create a digital replica of the Auschwitz I camp. The project was recognized at the Cannes Film Festival.

Museum spokesperson Bartosz Bartyzel told Euronews Culture that the replica was created “out of the growing interest of directors in the history of the German camp.”

“The Auschwitz Museum has been working with filmmakers for many years – both documentary filmmakers and feature film directors,” he said. “However, due to the conservation protection of the authentic memorial site, it is not possible to shoot feature films [there]. The idea to create a digital replica was born out of the need to respond to the growing interest in the history of the Auschwitz German camp in cinema and the daily experience of dealing with the film industry. This tool offers an opportunity to develop this cooperation in a new, responsible and ethical formula.”

– GZ