[Congressional Record Volume 155, Number 88 (Friday, June 12, 2009)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1399-E1400]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




              CONDEMNING SHOOTING AT U.S. HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

                                 ______
                                 

                               speech of

                           HON. RUSH D. HOLT

                             of new jersey

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, June 11, 2009

  Mr. HOLT. Madam Speaker, I rise today in strong support of House 
Resolution 529 and with deep regret that this measure is necessary. I 
am saddened deeply by the tragic events that took place yesterday at 
the United States Holocaust Museum. Especially upsetting was the loss 
of Mr. Stephen Tyrone Johns, who loyally served and protected those 
visiting the Holocaust Museum for six years. Mr. Johns was known as a 
warm, friendly individual who was well-respected by his colleagues. My 
sincerest condolences and my most heartfelt prayers are with his family 
and friends, whose lives have been devastated so unfairly.
  While yesterday's violence appears to have been the act of single 
individual, similar actions rooted in hatred and intolerance are not 
unknown to our society or our local communities. I am distressed by a 
recent report from the Anti-Defamation League, which indicated that my 
own state of New Jersey experiences the highest number of anti-Semitic 
incidents in the country. The persistence of these unacceptable acts 
throughout our nation indicates that the sinister notions of anti-
Semitism, racism, and intolerance continue to plague our society. The 
Holocaust Museum stands as a testament to the tragedy and suffering 
that can occur when hatred goes unchallenged and turns to violence. It 
is also a place to reflect upon tremendous bravery and heroism. 
Yesterday's events, and the sacrifices made by Mr. Johns and his loved 
ones, are a profound reminder that we cannot be complacent. We must 
remain vigilant against prejudice and work together to promote peace 
and tolerance in our hometowns, across the nation, and around the 
world.
  Finally, I would note that yesterday's events bring to mind the 
stirring call to action by President Obama at the Holocaust Days of 
Remembrance Ceremony in April, and I ask that they be printed in the 
Record in their entirety.

Remarks by the President at the Holocaust Days of Remembrance Ceremony, 
                 United States Capitol, Washington, DC.

       The President. Thank you. Please be seated. Thank you very 
     much. To Sara Bloomfield, for the wonderful introduction and 
     the outstanding work she's doing; to Fred Zeidman; Joel 
     Geiderman; Mr. Wiesel--thank you for your wisdom and your 
     witness; Speaker Nancy Pelosi; Senator Dick Durbin; members 
     of Congress; our good friend the Ambassador of Israel; 
     members of the United States Holocaust Memorial Council; and 
     most importantly, the survivors and rescuers and their 
     families who are here today. It is a great honor for me to be 
     here, and I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to address 
     you briefly.
       We gather today to mourn the loss of so many lives, and 
     celebrate those who saved them; honor those who survived, and 
     contemplate the obligations of the living.
       It is the grimmest of ironies that one of the most savage, 
     barbaric acts of evil in history began in one of the most 
     modernized societies of its time, where so many markers of 
     human progress became tools of human depravity: science that 
     can heal used to kill; education that can enlighten used to 
     rationalize away basic moral impulses; the bureaucracy that 
     sustains modern life used as the machinery of mass death--a 
     ruthless, chillingly efficient system where many were 
     responsible for the killing, but few got actual blood on 
     their hands.
       While the uniqueness of the Holocaust in scope and in 
     method is truly astounding, the Holocaust was driven by many 
     of the same forces that have fueled atrocities throughout 
     history: the scapegoating that leads to hatred and blinds us 
     to our common humanity; the justifications that replace 
     conscience and allow cruelty to spread; the willingness of 
     those who are neither perpetrators nor victims to accept the 
     assigned role of bystander, believing the lie that, good 
     people are ever powerless or alone, the fiction that we do 
     not have a choice.
       But while we are here today to bear witness to the human 
     capacity to destroy, we are also here to pay tribute to the 
     human impulse to save. In the moral accounting of the 
     Holocaust, as we reckon with numbers like 6 million, as we 
     recall the horror of numbers etched into arms, we also factor 
     in numbers like these: 7,200--the number of Danish Jews 
     ferried to safety, many of whom later returned home to find 
     the neighbors who rescued them had also faithfully tended 
     their homes and businesses and belongings while they were 
     gone.
       We remember the number five--the five righteous men and 
     women who join us today from Poland. We are awed by your acts 
     of courage and conscience. And your presence today compels 
     each of us to ask ourselves whether we would have done what 
     you did. We can only hope that the answer is yes.
       We also remember the number 5,000--the number of Jews 
     rescued by the villagers of Le Chambon, France--one life 
     saved for each of its 5,000 residents. Not a single Jew who 
     came there was turned away, or turned in. But it was not 
     until decades later that the villagers spoke of what they had 
     done--and even then, only reluctantly. The author of a book 
     on the rescue found that those he interviewed were baffled by 
     his interest. ``How could you call us 'good'?'' they said. 
     ``We were doing what had to be done.''
       That is the question of the righteous--those who would do 
     extraordinary good at extraordinary risk not for affirmation 
     or acclaim or to advance their own interests, but because it 
     is what must be done. They remind us that no one is born a 
     savior or a murderer--these are choices we each have the 
     power to make. They teach us that no one can make us into 
     bystanders without our consent, and that we are never truly 
     alone--that if we have the courage to heed that ``still, 
     small voice'' within us, we can form a minyan for 
     righteousness that can span a village, even a nation.
       Their legacy is our inheritance. And the question is, how 
     do we honor and preserve it? How do we ensure that ``never 
     again'' isn't an empty slogan, or merely an aspiration, but 
     also a call to action?
       I believe we start by doing what we are doing today--by 
     bearing witness, by fighting the silence that is evil's 
     greatest co-conspirator.
       In the face of horrors that defy comprehension, the impulse 
     to silence is understandable. My own great uncle returned 
     from his service in World War II in a state of shock, saying 
     little, alone with painful memories that would not leave his 
     head. He went up into the attic, according to the stories 
     that I've heard, and wouldn't come down for six months. He 
     was one of the liberators--someone who at a very tender age 
     had seen the unimaginable. And so some of the liberators who 
     are here today honor us with their presence--all of whom we 
     honor for their extraordinary service. My great uncle was 
     part of the 89th Infantry Division--the first Americans to 
     reach a Nazi concentration camp. And they liberated Ohrdruf, 
     part of Buchenwald, where tens of thousands had perished.
       The story goes that when the Americans marched in, they 
     discovered the starving survivors and the piles of dead 
     bodies. And General Eisenhower made a decision. He ordered 
     Germans from the nearby town to tour the camp, so they could 
     see what had been done in their name. And he ordered American 
     troops to tour the camp, so they could see the evil they were 
     fighting against. Then he invited congressmen and journalists 
     to bear witness. And he ordered that photographs and films be 
     made. Some of us have seen those same images, whether in the 
     Holocaust Museum or when I visited Yad Vashem, and they never 
     leave you. Eisenhower said that he wanted ``to be in a 
     position to give firsthand evidence of these things, if ever, 
     in the future, there develops a tendency to charge these 
     allegations merely to propaganda.''
       Eisenhower understood the danger of silence. He understood 
     that if no one knew what had happened, that would be yet 
     another atrocity--and it would be the perpetrators' ultimate 
     triumph.
       What Eisenhower did to record these crimes for history is 
     what we are doing here today. That's what Elie Wiesel and the 
     survivors we honor here do by fighting to make their memories 
     part of our collective memory. That's what the Holocaust 
     Museum does every day on our National Mall, the place where 
     we display for the world our triumphs and failures and the 
     lessons we've learned from our history. It's the very 
     opposite of silence.
       But we must also remember that bearing witness is not the 
     end of our obligation--it's just the beginning. We know that 
     evil has yet to run its course on Earth. We've seen it in 
     this century in the mass graves and the ashes of villages 
     burned to the ground, and children used as soldiers and rape 
     used as a weapon of war. To this day, there are those who 
     insist the Holocaust never happened; who perpetrate every 
     form of intolerance--racism and anti-Semitism, homophobia, 
     xenophobia, sexism, and more--hatred that degrades its victim 
     and diminishes us all.
       Today, and every day, we have an opportunity, as well as an 
     obligation, to confront these scourges--to fight the impulse 
     to turn the channel when we see images that disturb us, or 
     wrap ourselves in the false comfort that others' sufferings 
     are not our own. Instead we have the opportunity to make a 
     habit of empathy; to recognize ourselves in each other; to 
     commit ourselves to resisting injustice and intolerance and 
     indifference in whatever forms they may take--whether 
     confronting those who tell lies about history, or doing 
     everything we can to prevent and end atrocities like those 
     that took place in Rwanda, those taking place in Darfur. That 
     is my commitment as President. I hope that is yours, as well.
       It will not be easy. At times, fulfilling these obligations 
     require self-reflection. But

[[Page E1400]]

     in the final analysis, I believe history gives us cause for 
     hope rather than despair--the hope of a chosen people who 
     have overcome oppression since the days of Exodus; of the 
     nation of Israel rising from the destruction of the 
     Holocaust; of the strong and enduring bonds between our 
     nations.
       It is the hope, too, of those who not only survived, but 
     chose to live, teaching us the meaning of courage and 
     resilience and dignity. I'm thinking today of a study 
     conducted after the war that found that Holocaust survivors 
     living in America actually had a higher birthrate than 
     American Jews. What a stunning act of faith--to bring a child 
     in a world that has shown you so much cruelty; to believe 
     that no matter what you have endured, or how much you have 
     lost, in the end, you have a duty to life.
       We find cause for hope as well in Protestant and Catholic 
     children attending school together in Northern Ireland; in 
     Hutus and Tutsis living side by side, forgiving neighbors who 
     have done the unforgivable; in a movement to save Darfur that 
     has thousands of high school and college chapters in 25 
     countries, and brought 70,000 people to the Washington Mall--
     people of every age and faith and background and race united 
     in common cause with suffering brothers and sisters halfway 
     around the world.
       Those numbers can be our future--our fellow citizens of the 
     world showing us how to make the journey from oppression to 
     survival, from witness to resistance, and ultimately to 
     reconciliation. That is what we mean when we say ``never 
     again.''
       So today, during this season when we celebrate liberation, 
     resurrection, and the possibility of redemption, may each of 
     us renew our resolve to do what must be done. And may we 
     strive each day, both individually and as a nation, to be 
     among the righteous.
       Thank you, God bless you, and God bless the United States 
     of America.

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