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In an ironic twist of fate, the world has bid farewell to Professor Yehuda Bauer, who shuffled off this mortal coil at the ripe old age of 98, proving yet again that you can survive a Nazi onslaught, but not a good old-fashioned farewell party. He was, as all the right people say, a titan in Holocaust studies—his towering presence leaving no stone unturned and no uncomfortable truth unshared. After all, why dance with the past when you can stick it on display like a poorly taxidermied trophy?
Born in Prague in 1926, the professor’s journey saw him charm and disarm between Poland and Romania before he settled in the British Mandate of Palestine—a delightful little area reminiscent of heritage site bingo, where everyone plays but nobody wins. One must wonder, in a world so plagued with absurdities, what’s more tragic: fleeing your home because of genocide or finally finding your passion for history while living under colonial rule? It’s like being chased by a tiger only to trip and fall into a pool of historical documents.
It took him quite some time to face the elephant-sized horror of his research area—probably too busy studying other less terrifying subjects like the history of snooze-inducing treaties. When he finally took the plunge into Holocaust studies, he had the existential realization that, contrary to popular belief, “It could happen again!” – a simply riveting discussion prompt for your next dinner party, where discussing the Holocaust is just as comfortable as arguing over pineapple on pizza.
By the end of his life, Bauer had gained fluency in seven languages, because what’s the point of living through genocide if you can’t pronounce “abomination” in multiple tongues? Filled with accolades and awards—because what better way to commemorate suffering than with a shelf full of eloquent plaques?—he leaves an inheritance of guilt, moral clarity, and a lingering tension that’s as palpable as the stench of burnt toast from last night’s dinner.
As we collectively mourn the loss of a man who dedicated his life to reminding us of humanity’s penchant for forgetting its own atrocious chapters, it’s worth remembering his motto: “Thou shall not be a perpetrator, victim, or bystander.” How tragically ironic that this universally good advice sounds almost aspirational in a world rife with apathy and “thoughts and prayers.” Perhaps the professor’s greatest legacy is the reminder that we’re perpetually a few steps away from forgetting everything…so long as we’re all using our phones.
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