I should have taken Illidan‘s wise words to heart.
As others have also expressed to me, Holocaust denial seems like a particularly evil form of pseudohistory. The belief is inextricably linked to a rather violent form of anti-Semitism, in thought if not in deed. People who deny the Holocaust are keeping Hitler’s dream alive by attempting to erase the genocide of European Jewry.
I have read a lot about Holocaust denial in skeptical publications, published on paper or online. In the ’90s I followed David Irving’s libel case against Deborah Lipstadt, who had rightfully called him out for his denialism and his bigotry. (And I was extremely pleased when he lost that case, and later declared bankruptcy due to the fines levied against him.) I was made to ponder a couple of Jewish people who denied the Holocaust, which reminded me of the Israeli Orthodox Jew who assassinated prime minister Yitzhak Rabin — something that I did and do still find very disturbing.
I believed I was prepared, knowing these people existed and having read all the suggested rebuttals, although I think trying to reason with Holocaust deniers is like atheists trying to change the minds of believers: generally a waste of time.
Then recently I looked at a Facebook photo album posted by someone I know barely at all. It was a very moving set of images from a visit to one of the Nazis’ most infamous death camps. I went to the comments to add my kudos, and found I had interrupted an argument between a rational commenter and an anti-choice radical who had gone into a comparison between abortion and the Holocaust. I stopped reading the guy and simply blocked him, but another commenter stopped me cold:
The Holocaust is a lie.
Skeptics always seem to joke, sometimes darkly, about issues like these, so before I jumped to a conclusion, I neutrally queried the “Pastor” (which was part of his name) about his meaning.
I had a shockingly visceral reaction to the answer. It began with my name, and then there was a very cogently written response including mentions of the Zionist media, that Hollywood created the Holocaust, and other things you’d expect from a student of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. And I just froze, with my body going into fight-or-flight mode. There was a lump in my stomach, my hands were sweating, and my heart was racing.
It may not have been an in-person exchange, but it felt personal nonetheless. Very personal. My mind flashed through the stories my grandmother told about our family that often included the aside “(he died in the death camps).” I remembered interpreting a tour through a memorial museum for a group of deaf students, and how it felt having to remain professionally unfazed. I thought about the mountains of evidence I could have presented to this guy, personal stories, statistics, photos, everything.
Berlin's Holocaust memorial
And I walked away. I replied I’d be blocking him (not reporting, just a personal block), and then did so. I’ve walked away from many a brewing argument about a huge and/or emotional topic, having learned the technique from listening to my father’s views on many subjects on which we strongly disagree. He trolled me before I even knew what trolling was, and now being crippled by a lack of energy, I’m frequently walking away from discussions or arguments that I know will be fruitless and cost me energy that I can’t spare. And since the opening salvo had already awakened my animal brain, I recognized that I should and could not go further without descending into a really ugly situation.
But with this guy, it felt like I was caving. I don’t consider myself any kind of authority on Judaism, but I know enough from my upbringing and further study in college, as well as having an emotional connection to the Sunday Hebrew schools and seders and High Holy Days of my childhood, as well as the secular aspects of the culture that I loved. It seemed somehow that I should have held up the standard and challenged the pastor calmly and rationally in defense of it all. And I failed at that, even though it was the right thing for me to do.
Skeptics have their different areas of interest or specialty. Many people consider this or that person or practice to be pure evil, like homeopaths who let babies die from treatable illnesses, or the antivax crowd, or the people who are blocking the repeal of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Everyone has a different view and experience of evil. But it turns out that for me, skepticism — which is a solid way of viewing the world and can be a shield against the ignorance and hatred — was no protection at all against the feeling that I was being spoken to by an evil man.
Someone in this comment thread opined that the abortion loonie and the pastor were both attempting humor, or “being a Poe” we might say. I don’t have any evidence, because I didn’t seek it, as to whether he was acquainted with the posters. I did see the pastor’s profile when I went to block him; at first glance it did not resemble a Poe to me at all, but I admit I didn’t read it thoroughly enough to confirm it. But as I thought about that, I realized it didn’t matter. Whether a true denier or a perfect parrot of one, the sentiments aimed at me hit home like nothing I’ve yet experienced since becoming involved with skepticism. It didn’t matter whether the person were serious or joking, because even if it was a joke, the words displayed the exact same sentiments as those who believe.
I don’t have a moral to this story, because I’m not going to presume something like “all skeptics should watch out for blah, blah, blah.” For all I know, you reading this post are able to counter all opposing, even offensive opinions with perfect calm, and more power to you if so.
It was a lesson to me, one I haven’t entirely figured out yet, about being prepared to be unprepared in the face of something I thought I could handle. About the uselessness of skepticism at moments like these. And about how scarily close I believe I could come to turning into one of those loonies, just by engaging with them.
