The Drowned and the Saved

“The best way to defend oneself against the invasion of burdensome memories is to impede their entry, to extend a cordon sanitaire. It is easier to deny entry to a memory than to free oneself from it after it has been recorded.” 

This description explains why Nazi commanders designed a system in which the perpetrators of the worst crimes against the victims were protected from their own guilt. A ready supply of alcohol, as well as the cultivation of dehumanizing attitudes, were parts of this system.

“He wants to tame you, extinguish in you the spark of dignity that you perhaps still preserve and he has lost. But trouble is in store for you if this dignity drives you to react: this is an unwritten but iron law.” 

New arrivals to the concentration camps often reacted to the physical abuse they experienced by defending themselves against their persecutors, an impulse that usually backfires. Other “functionaries” (37) get involved if the iron law is threatened, and the beating that ensues often kills.

“It must be clear that the greatest responsibility lies with the system, the very structure of the totalitarian state, the concurrent guilt on the part of the individual big and small collaborators (never likeable, never transparent!) is always difficult to evaluate.” 

Levi is reluctant to judge any prisoner who collaborated with the authorities, blaming instead the system that permitted such a state of affairs to exist in the first place. The only individuals who may make such judgments are ones who were in the same situation and, therefore, able to understand first-hand what it means to be in such a state.

“It has been testified that a large amount of alcohol was put at the disposal of those wretches and that they were in a permanent state of complete debasement and prostration.” 

In this passage, Levi refers to the members of the Special Squad, a group of prisoners who were separated from the others in order to complete certain horrific tasks. Their participation in the work of the SS was the result of what Levi calls a “paroxysm of perfidiousness” (50).

“Compassion and brutality can coexist in the same individual and in the same moment, despite all logic; and for all that, compassion itself eludes logic.” 

Levi muses on the complexity of human nature and the potential humans have to possess, at the same time, seemingly contradictory impulses and characteristics. The extreme conditions of the Lagers highlighted these contradictions, and Levi wants the reader to know that simple explanations of behavior are not possible.

“Coming out of the darkness, one suffered because of the reacquired consciousness of having been diminished.” 

Upon being liberated from the concentration camps, many prisoners experienced the opposite of feelings like relief and joy; many prisoners instead went on to experience shame and guilt because liberation provided them with the opportunity to reflect on their time in the camps and the harmful effects that the experience had on them. These reflections led to depression and often, suicide.

“Daniele is dead now, but in our meetings as survivors, fraternal, affectionate, the veil of that act of omission, that unshared glass of water, stood between us, transparent, not expressed, but perceptible and ‘costly.’” 

Levi describes the guilt he still feels over a choice he made to share a precious and unexpected drink of water with one friend, named Alberto, but not with another, named Daniele. Levi analyzes the feeling of shame he experienced when Daniele confronted him about the episode months later, after both men were liberated, and Levi concludes that he is unable to determine if the shame he feels is justifiable or not.

“The ‘saved’ of the Lager were not the best, those predestined to do good; the bearers of a message. What I seen and lived through proved the exact contrary. Preferably the worst survived, the selfish, the violent, the insensitive, the collaborators of the ‘gray zones’, the spies.” 

Levi equates the survivors of the camps with those who are essentially “fittest” (88), not with those who are most deserving or blessed by a higher power. For Levi, being fit to survive sometimes means being able to collaborate with the SS, often at the expense of fellow prisoners. 

“Wortschatz means ‘lexical patrimony’, but literally, ‘treasure of words’; never was a term more appropriate. Knowing German meant life: I only had to look around me” 

Levi credits his ability to learn German with his ability to survive Auschwitz. He had a small amount of German vocabulary prior to his imprisonment, but he persuaded an Austrian prisoner to teach him German and paid him in bread for the lessons. Levi regards his German as a treasure, and this metaphor works because his access to the language likely saved his life. 

“The violence of the tattoo was gratuitous, an end in itself, pure offence. Were three canvas numbers sewed to pants, jackets and winter coat not enough? No, they were not enough: something more was needed, a non-verbal message, so that the innocent would feel his sentence written on his flesh.” 

The registration tattoos that marked all prisoners of the Lagers are permanent disfigurements, indelible proof of their diminished status. After he was liberated, Levi did not attempt to cover his tattoo, nor did he wear his tattoo on display; he simply accepted the tattoo as a part of himself that inspires neither shame nor pride.

“But it is doubtful that this torment of body and spirit, mythical and Dantesque, was excogitated to prevent the formation of self-defense and active resistance nuclei: the Lager SS were obtuse brutes, not subtle demons.” 

Levi does not credit the SS with deliberate and concise planning of the tortures that the prisoners endured in the camps. His careful description of their suffering and the trials they underwent suggests that an intellectually complex plan was engineered by the Nazis, but this was not the case. 

“In other words: before dying the victim must be degraded, so that the murderer will be less burdened by guilt. This is an explanation not devoid of logic but which shouts to heaven: it is the sole usefulness of useless violence.” 

Levi explains that victims of the Holocaust were essentially tortured even though their deaths were imminent. Such treatment appears utterly pointless from the point of view of an observer, but closer examination of the situation reveals that the violence did have a purpose: it enabled the perpetrators of the violence to feel less engaged in the act of torture and therefore, less guilty for their terrible treatment of innocents.

“I would propose to extend the term to the person educated beyond his daily trade; whose culture is alive inasmuch as it makes an effort to renew itself, increase itself and keep up to date; and who does not react with indifference or irritation when confronted by any branch of knowledge, even though, obviously, he cannot cultivate all of them.” 

In this passage, Levi offers his definition of an “intellectual,” a definition that contrasts with the rigid description provided by Jean Améry. Both Levi and Améry spend time considering the experience of imprisonment from the point of view of an intellectual, and they agree that an educated person with cultivated sensibilities did struggle more in the camps due to their inexperience with physical labor and other challenges.

“Reason, art, and poetry are no help in deciphering a place from which they are banned.” 

According to Levi, acts of remembering and engaging with meaningful notions of personal culture were not only futile, but damaging. Trying to understand the Lager experience in too analytical or aesthetic a way only results in enhanced suffering and a greater awareness of the boredom and horror that characterized life in the Lagers.

“Like Améry, I too entered the Lager as a non-believer, and as a non-believer I was liberated and have lived to this day; actually, the experience of the Lager with its frightful iniquity has confirmed me in my laity.” 

In this passage, Levi refers to his non-religiousness and a moment when his lack of belief was challenged while imprisoned. At this moment, he was tempted to pray to a higher power in which he did not really believe, for a momentary feeling of relief. Levi resisted the urge to indulge in this form of escapism, a decision he recollects with relief.

“The aims of life are the best defense against death: and not only in the Lager.” 

Suicides rarely happened in the camps themselves, and Levi explains that he himself was protected from self-harm by choosing instead to stay busy. He dwelt not on the possible relief he could experience if he were to die, but the immediate and possible smaller moments of respite he could access in the present moment. This attitude of self-preservation helped him both in the short run, while a prisoner, and in the long run, after the liberation.

“What’s more, in all the Lagers the flight of even a single prisoner was considered the most grievous fault on the part of all the surveillance personnel, beginning with the functionary-prisoners and ending with the camp commander, who risked being discharged. In Nazi logic, this was an intolerable event.” 

Escaping from the Lager was rarely attempted, but successful attempts did take place. These incidents inspired a very serious response from the SS as an escapee could tell the outside world about what was happening inside of the death camps that were not supposed to exist, and in fact, were later denied.

“It slides fatally towards simplification and stereotype; I would like here to erect a dike against this trend.” 

Levi expresses his concern as popular culture engages with the difficult subject matter of the Holocaust. In his opinion, the version presented to the public in the form of books and movies is vastly different from what actually happened, and the gap between the two is only growing wider. Levi hopes that his writing will prevent stereotypes from becoming facts.

“What sense, what use would it have been to open the gates for thousands of individuals barely able to drag themselves around, and for others, who would not have known where, in an enemy country, to look for refuge?”

Some have suggested to Levi that he, and the others who were sent to the Lagers, should perhaps have emigrated once the threat of the Nazis became clear. In response to this oversimplified response, Levi explains that the decision to emigrate is more complicated than many would assume; he asks, even if a family could afford to move and had the proper documentation to do so, where exactly could they have gone? 

“The Europe of 1930-1940 was not today’s Europe. To emigrate is always painful; at the time it was also more difficult and more costly that it is now.” 

Levi reiterates his point about the practical complexities of emigration. The Europe of today is much easier to travel than the Europe of this era to which he refers, which makes the suggestion that one “should have emigrated” before it was too late a somewhat troubling one.

“When, around 1959, I heard that a German publisher (Fischer Bücherei) had acquired the translation rights I felt overwhelmed by the violent and new emotion of having won a battle.” 

Though Levi was exhilarated by the news that his book If This Is a Man would soon be read by German readers, such a feeling was quickly followed by a sense of mistrust. Levi did not trust his German publisher to recreate the book accurately, and it was not until Levi developed a relationship with his translator that his suspicions were alleviated. 

“He introduced himself: he was exactly my age, had studied in Italy for several years, and besides being a translator, he was an Italianist, a scholar who specialized in Goldoni. He too was an anomalous German.” 

Levi describes his translator, with whom he developed a positive collaborative relationship. At the end of the project, Levi wrote his translator a letter of thanks, and this letter became the preface to the German edition of the book If This Is a Man.

“That dread man was not a traitor, he was a coherent fanatic whose ideas were extremely clear: he never changed them and never concealed them. Those who voted for him certainly voted for his ideas.”

Levi provides this description of Adolf Hitler in order to place the responsibility of his leadership on the many German citizens who voted him into power. Some of these citizens who later regretted the decision wrote to Levi after reading his book in German. Levi’s experience with these letter-writers sometimes enraged him and at other times, perplexed him. In either case, Levi responded to his correspondents with letters of his own.