Why we remember, together
This story begins behind the barbed wire of Mauthausen. It’s a miracle that it didn’t end there.
Mauthausen is where my friend and co-editor, David Estrin, took the measure of his grandfather for the first time.
David’s grandfather, James Lichtman, survived what he called “the hell of hell” at Auschwitz and Mauthausen. When David was only 13, he traveled with his grandfather to Mauthausen, to walk in his footsteps and listen to his stories. It was all part of Mr. Lichtman’s life work: sharing his story with anyone who would listen—even a teenage grandson—in the hopes of preventing something like the Holocaust from ever happening to anyone.
Today, David continues his grandfather’s work. After Mr. Lichtman passed away during David’s junior year of college, David decided to do something special to honor the memory of his grandfather and the work he had loved so much: organize a 24-hour name-reading ceremony to remember the victims of genocide from the 20th and 21st centuries.
There is something magnetic about David. It is as if his grandfather’s story pulses through his veins, filling him with restless energy. I met David around 1:10 A.M. on a foggy April night last spring, during last year’s name-reading ceremony at Duke. After I read names for a good half hour, he tapped my shoulder and asked me why I had come. In talking, we realized that we shared the same conviction about genocide: we must remember humanity at its worst and draw inspiration from humanity at its best.
“Memory can be a graveyard or it can be the true kingdom of man. The choice is before humanity.”
— Elie Wiesel and Samuel Totten
David and I have been talking ever since; this blog has grown out of our conversations, and no doubt will grow beyond them as more join the cause. Even though our paths to genocide remembrance could not be more different—all four of his grandparents are Holocaust survivors, while my grandfathers both served in the U.S. Navy during World War II—David and I share the same commitment to the #TogetherWeRemember campaign.
The mark of a worthy campaign is how quickly it transcends the bounds of its origins. The campaign isn’t just about David, about Duke, or about me. It’s about all of us.
What started as a one-time name-reading ceremony at Duke has grown into an annual, global day of remembrance for all victims of genocide.
For 24 hours from April 10–11, 2016, people will gather on their campuses and in their communities, united to breathe new life into names that might otherwise be forgotten.
