Everything Else

Yesterday I saw the Jewish Museum in Berlin.

It was a really interesting experience: a museum where the very architecture of the building is an essential part of making you think about the exhibits in a certain way. Daniel Libeskind’s angular and odd design makes the place seem sort of sparse and a little eerie at times. It’s quite a slow burning walk through Jewish history, gradually letting you think about some of the exhibits.

Of course, a significant part of this history is the Holocaust. I’ve always found the Holocaust really compelling, even as it is horrifying. When you first enter the museum, there are numerous pictures, letters, and belongings on display. By personalising victims, such as a 7 year old boy or a popular Jewish entertainer in her almost burlesque costume, the Holocaust becomes one brutal murder after another, as well as the mass event we tend to think of it as.

It’s quite disturbing. Some of the placques or pictures show happy scenes such as weddings or parties, but almost all end with “was murdered by the Nazis in 1942″.  One man has written the story of a friend (17) who was forced to hide in a brothel when his parents were captured by the Nazis. He was unable to help him find some other place to live and eventually the Pimp informed the police he was hiding a Jew. The boy jumped from a 5 story building while in Nazi custody.

You read many stories such as these, and then the grandiose design of the building provides some moments to reflect on them. There are two “voids” that comprise part of the tour. The first is a triangular darkened room with a huge high ceiling. The dimensions of the room are odd and disconcerting. It’s quite powerful to step into this strange black and off kilter silence after being forced to think about Holocaust victims by name, and look at their pictures.

The next void, a floor further up, is even more impressive. It’s an amazing work of art by Menashe Kadishman, called “Fallen Leaves”. Kadishman has laid out thousands of iron sculpted human faces that form a long path in another huge high ceilinged “void” in the building. A notice informs you that the artist has requested that visitors walk on the sculpted faces. As you do a high pitched clanging reverberates around the room.

Beyond the morbid and eerie nature of the walk, and the feeling of walking on contorted fearful human faces, it’s a stunningly intelligent work of art. It’s amazing to see an artist using space and minimalism to convey such a powerful image, and perhaps a testament to what modern artists can do if given such resources to work with. The video below gives some sense of it.

Further into the museum, the subject matter switched to Jewishness in general, and even wider ideas of prejudice. One interesting element were 3 machines that asked you one question each along the way. The first said “Do people in your circle of friends harbour prejudices against Jewish people?”. I pressed “no” and it said that 47 per cent of people answered “yes”.

At this stage I wondered if it was better for me to say “yes my friends do or at least may harbour prejudices against Jews” than to deny that they did without knowing for sure. I wasn’t sure what the point of the question was, or whether this sort of thought process was it. I mean, prejudices aren’t necessarily overt are they? I’m sure I must have some ideas about Jews or Jewishness that are inaccurate, since I have never met a Jewish person. But I am not a deliberate or hateful anti-semite.

Another question later on asked: “Do you have reservations about Turkey joining the EU?”. I said “no” but then as I thought about it I wondered about their human rights record or similar issues. Is any reservation like this a matter of prejudice? I couldn’t really be sure.

The third question was this: “Would you feel comfortable if your child married someone from another race or religion?”. I said “Yes” for this one, but I can’t say I felt as though I was being entirely honest. I had to admit I feel it might pose problems for my child’s children, or that it might make their marriage harder as different religious issues clashed. Ultimately if my child loved the person then that would be the main thing, but it was interesting having your conscience pricked.

I liked the fact that the questions were ambiguous and didn’t claim to have any right or wrong answers. If you’re in Berlin I highly recommend a trip to the museum. I’ve always found the Holocaust worth thinking about and discussing as a way of trying to understand how prejudices turn into dehumanising hatred, or mass group behaviour.

The museum humanised it a lot more than I was used to.  With so many stories and letters on display, you really became immersed in the sense of desperation as families fled Germany, and tried in vain to persuade those left behind to follow. I also found it interesting to see the word “murdered” used over and over again. If you were watching a TV documentary, I think they’d say “killed by the Nazis”, yet I suppose it was always “murder”. Perhaps the point the museum was making here is that that’s the word we should use.