Trudy Gold
Second Generation Trauma From Both Sides of the Fence

Maya Lasker-Wallfisch - Second Generation Trauma From Both Sides of the Fence

- Good evening everyone, and I’m very, very pleased to welcome and introduce my friend Maya Lasker-Wallfisch. Maya is a psychotherapist. Maya is now living in Berlin, and basically, she is one of her main areas of expertise is intergenerational trauma. And what she’s now reflecting on is the trauma, both of the victims and of the children of the perpetrators. But let’s start at the beginning, Maya, because of course, I have the privilege of being a family friend. When did you first become aware that there was a secret. There was something in your parents’ past?

• Well, firstly, thank you for inviting me to join you this evening. It’s always, always a pleasure. I think it’s really interesting, because whatever a child is born into is their normal. So, figuring out that it isn’t normal is something that comes with the passage of time. In my case, the first sort of indications that our family was definitely different was the sort of obvious markers, like my parents having German accents. Then when I became old enough, noticing that my mother had a tattoo on her arm. But there were several indicators that we were other, of course, no extended family being one of them, no grandmas or grandpas, but none of these things had any context or comparison. It was just the feeling of otherness. So, the sort of evolution of understanding what is the nature, what do these signs mean? Is something that was very gradual and accompanied with whenever I asked a direct question, which I probably began in response to somebody making a comment like, “Why does your mother have her phone number on her arm?” And I would say to my mom, “Why do you?” And she would always say, “I will tell you when you are older.” So I got used to that refrain as my mother’s response to the untellable. So, I knew that this otherness was bad. I certainly, knew it wasn’t concealing anything desirable, but it was amorphous and without any story, a narrative. And that makes for a lot of confusion, of course, in terms of who am I in the world? What, who, what family have I been born into? And kids all want to be the same, but it was very difficult being so different.

• How old were you when your mother wrote her book, “Inherit the Truth”?

• Oh gosh. Well, that came very late. The first book was the book that was intended only for my brother and I, which was a written called “My Story”.

• How old were you?

• Well, I’m trying to remember. And what I remember about being given it, mom gave a copy to myself and a copy to my brother on Christmas Day. And I think it was before I had become a mother. I think I was probably 30 years old. That was the first sort of tangible, we knew things by then, but I was 30 years old when I think, when she finally had completed this labour of love, putting this unbelievable thing together.

• So, the story of what happened to your mother, and also, to an extent your father, I mean, by the time you are 30, there’s so much knowledge about what happened in the Shoah. When did you put it all together?

• I don’t think, you know, I am still putting it all together. I think I came to know about some of the horror, the real horror, because of course, I grew up before internet, before many TV programmes, and none of that have happened yet. There was still silence. But when I was about 10 years old, oh, no, no, I minimise probably 12 years old. I was rummaging in a cupboard in my mother’s house looking for cigarettes. I was a very bad child. And instead of finding cigarettes, these files fell out of the cupboard, and fell open. And I was surrounded by horrific images that I couldn’t decipher, and black and white images. And as I attempted to decipher what had fallen scattered around me, I realised I was looking at corpses. I don’t think I’d ever seen corpses before. I’m sure I hadn’t. And they were pictures that had been taken from the liberation of Belsen. There was also an image that looked horribly like my mother and I very quickly packed everything back together and shoved it back into the cupboard. And I never said a word about it. So, my mother didn’t know for many, many years that I’d found these images, and I knew obviously, that there was something to do with my mother. So, the knowing was in bits and pieces, some of it was involuntary, falling upon things. But my mother never sat us down and said, “Oh, now I’m going to tell you what happened to me and what happened to your grandparents, and why?” Because she didn’t want to traumatise us. And in those days, before anybody had done much thinking about the impact of the Holocaust on the survivors, let alone the next generation, it was all about just trying to rebuild, rebuild, rebuild. And I think in my mother’s case, she really wanted to divide the past and the present. And of course, that is actually an impossibility, but that was her what she wanted to do.

• And also, any notion of the psychological trauma was totally in its infancy. I have a close friend who was adopt, she was found wandering in Trieste and stuff when she was three. And she was adopted, and her adopted parents said, you are now so and so, so and so, forget the past. And they never ever allowed her even to remember. It was like, you could put some part of your life away and go on. And when did you realise that you needed to delve?

• I think it was quite remarkable actually, because I had always been very troubled and wasn’t able to sort of find my way and I felt now I have more language to describe the feeling, like a displaced person, like a refugee in my own life, and the life that my parents had created, that my brother seemed to fit into very nicely. I felt an alien in. And there were, but again, there was no real language at that time to understand it or make sense of it. And I’d been in different therapies and so on. And one day I saw this tiny little advertisement in that, I think it was the “Hammond High” or the “Jewish Chronicle”, a local small Northwest London newspapers. And there was a little advertisement and it said, “Have you been affected by the Holocaust? Were either of your parents,” or something like that, “in concentration camps? If so, if you want to join this group phone this number.”

• How old were you?

• Incredibly, I was probably 34, 35 years old.

• Yeah. Well, there was nothing for a long, long time.

• There was nothing. But when I found this advertisement, it was tiny. And it was sort of like it was there for me. And that was the first time that I met people like me. I had never met another person who had parents who had been through the camps.

• Was it useful to discuss the experiences with…

• It was a huge relief. I mean, it was the first time in my life that I didn’t feel like I was stark craving mad, that we shared so many commonalities of difficulty and struggle. And some group members’ parents had brought them up with all the stories imaginable, others more like mine in silence. But we all had similar symptoms and difficulties, and we spoke a common language, and it was a huge, huge relief. And that was the first time that my life began to have any sort of meaningful context that I could begin to understand and think, actually, yeah, this is to do with that, and this is to do with that. And before then, I was just completely bewildered by everything. And yes, there was nothing. This was the first group that ever sprung up for people like me.

• You said, interesting. What I found in some parents spoke a lot, some spoke hardly at all. Would it have made any difference? How do you respond to that?

• Yeah, I mean, when I’m asked this question, I absolutely believe there is no right way and no wrong way. I can only speak, I know that children, my contemporaries who were brought up with horror stories were very damaged by it. And I think in telling, one has to question who is the telling for. In my mother’s case, the not telling was completely to protect her children.

• And I think with your brother, because he became so involved in the world of music, he had a kind of, because your mother sometimes says things to me like music is neutral, music is a saviour, but you became a psychotherapist. So, you’re dealing with the inside. Do you think that’s what actually guided you to your profession in the end?

• Yeah, I’m sure that my experience of, and my interest in the meaning of suffering through my personal suffering and the capacity to, I hope, bear witness to other people’s suffering is what led me to, it was a kind of inevitability really. It kept it happened quite late, because I spent so many years in the wilderness. But I was always, I always was… One of the things that is strange in my family is, I mean, of course, music is a language, and I don’t speak it, but I speak a different language and I have a highly developed intellectual emotion, psychological and emotional repertoire. And that makes me different to my family. And it’s difficult, because I always want to know more and go a bit deeper. And they don’t necessarily want to do that. So, it’s interesting in the work that I do and in what I’m doing now, I have to remind myself, nobody asked me to do this. Nobody asked me to do this, but it’s again, it’s sort of like, it feels like, well, this is what I was meant to do.

• And now, I suppose the big question, I mean, you have a book launch this week, and the subject is why you are living in Berlin. I mean, there you are, Maya living in Berlin.

• Yeah, right.

• That’s uncovering a…

• Well, what’s the girl going to do next? What again, what to do with this feeling of displacement and refugee? Because I realised, I mean, this sort of quite late, very late, I think sort of coming up to 60, I realised that I felt like I was a refugee. And I remember asking my mom around that period, “Mom, what word would you use to describe your status when you arrived in the UK?” She said, “Refugee.” And I said, “What word would you use to describe the children of those born? Well, in this case, to people that had been displaced.” And she said, “Refugee.” And I realised in the fullest sense, well, I am a refugee. And I had never felt at home in the UK, never found my place. Yes, I existed and I did this, and I did that, but I never felt connected to anything. And a series of things happened in Germany in the last few years where I found myself very inspired and welcome without wishing to idolise, that kind of made me realise, well, perhaps, perhaps I need to find out what my life would be like if I lived in the country that I was meant to have had my life in.

• That’s a very interesting way of putting it. I want to jump a bit, because there’s something that absolutely fascinates me, because we’ve talked before about whether trauma is in fact inherited characteristic now. That there’s some traumas that are so deep in a person. And I know a lot of research is coming out of Israel, in particular, that is talking about, it’s actually becomes genetic. I mean, I dunno if you want to comment on that.

• Well, simply to concur with you that absolutely there is evidence of the epigenetic changes that occur in those born to survivors. And I mean, how can it not. I mean, if one thinks about all we know about the neuroscience now and brain plasticity and so on and so forth, of course it’s going to, starvation is going to affect the function of the brain. It’s going to affect neurons forever. And so, it seems kind, of obvious, that it would create changes in terms of genetics. But it is interesting as well to me, its like, why is there also such a scientific interest in that, rather than other levels of engagement, which, I mean, of course they exist, but I’m not sure what we’re trying to prove in that work. I think it’s important, but I’m not sure what it’s going to give us in terms of…

• I mean, you talk about refugees, and I know you have such a big social conscience. The word refugee is such, there’s such a stigma now isn’t there? And have we learned anything?

• Well, as a returner to the Father Land, it would seem not. I always think it’s very interesting that in Israel, if I wanted to, had I wanted to make aliyah, the return to Israel, I would’ve been greeted with a package of help and resources and taught the language and all of the things that welcome. Here there isn’t even an office to go to for people like me. There is nothing, there is no provision at all.

• So, is that for all refugees you’re talking about?

• No, no, no.

• That’s extraordinary actually.

• Yeah.

• And also, the other area that I really think is absolutely fascinating that you stumbled into, you told me, is the trauma of the second generation of perpetrators. And we’re going to show some stills in a minute, but this is the most extraordinary story. Do you want to tell it, please?

• Yeah, I mean, I suppose I want to put it into context that one of the things that I learned from my mother, which is something that is so powerful, is because that, let’s just say, ‘cause not everybody here will know. Mom didn’t set foot back into Germany for I think 40 years. She would never go back. And then she decided curiosity one day got the better of her and she saw that the orchestra was going near to where Belsen was, and she wanted to see what had become of the memorial site. And so, she made her first visit, and it was one that she never regretted. And it began her own return to Germany. But more than that, she stopped looking at every German thinking, where were you in 19 whatever, and who was your father? And so on and so on. And she moved into a completely different orbit of actually realising that the hatred that she had felt towards German and Germany and what they had done was actually not helpful, not helpful to her or to anybody else. So, she sort of moved into over many, many, many years of her work in Germany, moved into sort of engagement with interest and speaking with the children of perpetrators. So, I kind of followed my mother’s example. And she sort of really speaks about, it’s nothing to do with forgiveness, it’s to do with actually tolerance and understanding. Forgiveness is, I dunno, high minded, superficial idea I think. So, with my project, what happened was a film director approached me after I’d written my first book, and I was talking in that first book about my desire, hadn’t done it yet, to move back to Germany. And this filmmaker was very interested in this decision and wanted to make a film about my return. So, we began this project, and the project was about that and about transgenerational trauma. And we discovered very quickly in our many conversations that this film really needed to have a counterpart to the other side, into the other side being the children of perpetrators, not just the children of survivors. And so, things happened, and we met with, had several meetings with the son of the Commandant, Rudolph Hoss, the Commandant of Auschwitz, the biggest mass murderer in the world. And so, it was decided that Rudolph Hoss, who had never been back to Auschwitz. He lived there till he was seven years old, and his son, my counterpart, would make this journey together, which we did 18 months ago, I think now.

• Can we see the slides please?

• Absolutely. So, in the first slide, I think people will see, that was the first meeting where I sat very bizarrely amongst a lot of games I can see, which we were not aware of at the time. And where we were here, that’s Mr. Hoss Senior, Rudolph Hoss’ son and grandson, Kai. This is the moment that we met.

• Okay, I’m going to have to ask you the question. How did you feel? I mean, we’ve had all the rubbish of “The Boy in the Striped Pyjama”, et cetera. All the fantasy around that family. And now, you are meeting the son of the Commandant at Auschwitz, and his son. I mean, what was the emotion that went through you at that time?

• I felt by the time we sat there and it literally, was the first moment we met, I felt the stillness come over me. I felt it complete. And I sort of surrendered my energy over into what was the force field that was happening around me. So, actually, interestingly, what I was feeling was irrelevant. Not in the way of, I don’t have feelings, but I realised that actually, I was in a force field of energy. And that’s what I was led by. And I wasn’t encumbered by any feelings of my own or judgement or anything. It was just like, oh my goodness. It was just deeply powerful. And I just remember the energy of terror that these two men kind of carried with them.

• Terror, you used the word shame and terror.

• Yeah, yeah. I felt Jurgen’s shame and Kai’s terror. And I think I had a thought at that time that my task became very clear to me.

• Did you ask him about when he knew? Did you ever ask him that question?

• Again, I think he knew. What did he say? He knew that his father was an important officer, but he did not know that what they were doing. But actually, it became obvious that, that was an impossibility once he returned into his bedroom in the villa, which is still standing, because from there you see the chimneys. It was actually impossible. But of course, the memory can play all sorts of wonderful tricks. So, I think he was able to split off memories of a six-year-old boy. But without doubt what he was faced with was his, well, it was his first confrontation with it.

• And his son then is also involved in his father’s shame, what do you say?

• Yeah, and terror. The terror of the sins of the father will revisit. And a desperate need for forgiveness, which of course, is certainly not mine to give, nor is it the responsibility of those two men.

• Yeah, I think this is something that Judaism is very strong on.

• Yes.

• That only those who are hurt can be forgiven and the dead cannot forgive. And I think there’s a lot of the muddle about that.

• There’s a lot of the muddle about that. And the meaning of it and actually, neither of these guys are responsible anyway for what happened there. Only responsible for what we do today or what we did yesterday and so on. But there is this desperate, and I will use the word desperate need for that. And in the first moment, the first couple of days, and certainly in that moment, in our first meeting, that was what they wanted from me or me as a conduit, not me, me. And I was very, it was interesting in terms what did I feel. What I felt was a kind of a stillness and a kind of a gravitas that arrived that I didn’t know about, ‘cause you can’t plan these things. And I realised that I was, everything happens at the right time. So, I was ready to be honest, to be present with, to really kind of pay attention to what was happening to them and to myself and to know how to navigate that, because I did have to navigate a lot. But I did it in a way that felt very authentic and very, very valuable.

• I must tell you, Maya, this Sodom happens to me my stomach is flipping as you are telling this story. It’s quite profound what happened. And because I think tragically Jewish people, his sins be upon us and on our children for all generations. That’s something that we have had to bear for 2,000 years. And what I believe that the grandson is actually quite religious, is that correct? Yes, he’s a born-again pastor. And Mr. Hoss Senior was also, I think a Jehovah’s Witness for a long time and tried to survive with the knowledge of what had happened and have led sort of fairly obscure lives. I mean, this is the first time. This was their coming out.

• They wanted this. Should we have a look at some of the other slides, please?

• Yeah, so here I’m in Auschwitz. There is, in part of the offices, they have photographs of the survivors. And here I’m just looking at an image of my mother. Yeah.

• Should we see the next one, please, Lauren?

• The next day after the meeting was our first day in Birkenau. And here you see us walking along the ramp together.

• Had he ever been there before since? Had he himself made the journey?

• No, it was the first time for both of them.

• Yeah.

• Not for me, but the first time for both of them.

• That is quite extraordinary, isn’t it?

• Well, it was. And one of the things I was super conscious of was Jurgen’s difficulty with his walking aid, the same as my mother’s on the broken terrain and Kai’s difficulty in looking after his father, because he was so focused on me and this thing he wanted from me.

• So, Kai wanted your forgiveness?

• Yes, he needed it. It was he needed something from me that was sort of beyond words. And it was agonising for them. It was agonising for them. And after some time I may, I kind of was able to convey that really there were no words. They didn’t need to try and find words. We could just be…

• Did they take comfort from your attitude?

• You’d have to ask them, but I think so.

• Yeah, should we see the next slide, please? Yeah.

• Yeah.

• This is almost surreal, Maya.

• Yeah, yeah. And one of the things that was really surreal was, no, so here we stand with Jurgen looking at the gallows where his father hanged. So, to the right of this is the villa.

• Yeah.

• He lived, and of course, on the other side of the walls were where the camp was.

• Yeah, yeah.

• So that was the proximity. And that was a very surreal moment watching him look at the gallows. And when we cannot imagine, of course, the murder, the mass murder of millions of Jews and other undesirables. Yet, I was deeply affected by what this man’s experience of the hanging of his father, one person was like.

• Maybe in a way that’s all we can ever, we can’t cope with the numbers, it’s just beyond.

• No, no.

• And this is absolutely extraordinary. I mean, this is, you talk, please, 'cause this is.

• So, after the week together in Auschwitz, the next part of my mission was to travel with them to my mother’s house in London. And when I arrived back at my mother’s house the evening before this shot, I was a quivering wreck. It was a pretty intense week. And I didn’t know how my mother would receive me. And when she opened the door to me she said, “Welcome home, hero. Tell me everything.” Which is most beautiful. I actually, I quoted it in my second book. And so, I was so frightened of whether I’d done a terrible thing bringing these people. Anyway, the next day they arrived the Hoss’ to my mother’s house.

• I mean, you saying that, when you say that I’m almost in a, I feel like I’m in a fantasy almost.

• Yeah, yeah. And mom, I mean, she was so gracious, so generous and interested in their lives, in his life. I mean, it was remarkable. It was completely remarkable. And she asked him, “So, how do you feel about your father now that you’ve seen what he did?”

• Of course, she spoke to him in German.

• Yeah. And his reply was, “Nothing, nothing at all.” And mum said, “Probably best.” And it was just their exchange was so simple, but yet, so profound and incredible really, incredible.

• There’s almost no words, is there? I mean, your mother is an extraordinary woman on every level as we both know.

• Yeah, yeah. And I think she felt, and she does feel that this project, this film, which we’re completing soon is very worthwhile, because how do we teach the lessons of the Holocaust? How do we even begin to make meaning of all this horror, horror, horror. And what do we do now as we faced the ongoing hatred of Jews and other minorities? And this a deep despair that it seems to have not made the difference that we all…

• If you knew how often now that you’re in Germany, Anita and I talk. When you’re back, we talk the three of us. But it is horrific that all that work somehow we haven’t seemed to have made enough of an imprint. And it’s odd, because I know that when your mother and other survivors tell their stories, it touches people. I think that there is a kind of dissonance here between who they are and the Jewish people.

• I think there’s that, but there’s also, what I think happens is, of course, of course, survivor giving their testimony is hugely powerful, but people’s capacity to hold onto the information or to make subjective meaning of it as a whole other question. So, how do we make these issues relatable?

• I mean, if the every museum, there are over 300 Holocaust museums in the world now. And they always have some sort of phrase like, “Those of us who don’t learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.” And it’s so fallacious, frankly, as far as I’m concerned, because we don’t seem to, as a society have learned enough, or maybe we’ve learned nothing from it. There’re always people who stand up against horror. But the majority of people that go along with it, they’re swayed by this or that. And it is actually, quite depressing that to think, when I look at that picture, I find somehow though, although it’s making my stomach wobble, I think there is some sort of hope in it, isn’t there?

• I agree. I agree, and that is why as a convoluted way of coming back to your question of why am I here? That is why that I feel that I have to engage and it’s far less comfortable for me here than it is in a different way, in a very different way. I mean, being Jewish here is harder.

• Is it complicated? Tell me about that.

• Well, I mean, in a very ordinary sense, I would never walk around with my out, I just wouldn’t, I didn’t think twice about it in the UK. I don’t think twice about it. Can you see it? Can you not see it? Here I make a point of just checking it’s not out. It’s hard, because I grew up in British society. In a very European household, but I didn’t know, sounds so weird. I didn’t know how German my mother was until I came to Germany. I thought everybody was a little bit abrupt. No, or rather I thought just, sorry, I’ve got that wrong. I thought it was just my mother that was a bit abrupt. Well, actually most of Germany is. I can make it sound funny, but it was terrible culture shock. I mean, and also, you will know what I mean by Juden Durch. I feel like I speak Juden Durch half the time. You know that I’m the kvetching Jew. I really do. If I’ve got a problem, no, Maya in Germany can’t just sort of say, do you know what? I really don’t like that. No. I’m told off a lot. I’m told off a lot. And I was reading the pity of it all again. I’m speaking Juden Durch. This is what’s happening. It is though. It is so inbuilt in the German psyche.

• Did you know there’s a large Jewish community now in Berlin, isn’t there?

• Yeah, but I’m not hanging out with them. No, I didn’t.

• Of course, not.

• There are some Jews here that I like, but they just happen to be Jews. I’m not interested, you know what I mean? I’m interested in people. If you happen to be Jewish, great. But that’s not, it’s in this sort of life, in general life, I’m really conscious of unconscious antisemitism, unconscious bias, and the misappropriation of Jewish voices as well. But the misappropriation in terms of misunderstanding, hence I use the term Juden Durch. I really speak another language a lot of the time.

• And when’s the film going to be finished, you think?

• This year.

• Well, then you come back and talk.

• Now, when mum’s coming, and then I’m going, the completion of the film will be in…

• I hope you’ll come back and we’ll show some too. I can see there’s loads of questions, Maya. Shall I turn to the questions, now? I can do it without.

Q&A and Comments:

I’m a psycho, this is from Helen Cohen. “I’m a psychotherapist. I’ve noticed complicated psyches of survivors, the most notable grandchild of survivors murdered a hairdresser repressed wave way rage.” That’s extreme, yeah.

Q: This is from Peter. “I understand you live in Berlin now. How does it feel?”

A - Challenging, never boring.

Q - This is a lot of thank yous. And this is from Joan. “What group of refugees are supported in Germany?”

A - Just about every apart from the Jews.

• So, that’s, yeah.

• I mean, a lot was given to Russian Jews several years ago. But now, I mean, it’s just, there is nothing. There is absolutely nothing.

• This is from Nicki. “Rachel Yehuda’s work highlights the second generation survivors have impaired cortisol levels more vulnerable to stress probably at both the epigenetic level and the impact of the environment.”

• Yes.

• You’d agree with that?

• Totally.

Q - And Brenda’s asking, “Has living in Berlin impacted your relationship with your parents, with your mother?”

A - Yes.

Q - Has it made a difference?

A - Yes. But I mean, mom’s coming tomorrow, so ask me in three months time.

• Okay, and I think I should say. You’ve only recently.

• Yeah, I mean, I’ve only been here for sort of a couple of years. Yeah, mum is… Yeah, I dunno how she feels about me being here. I think she’s sort of…

Q - We’ll ask her. Ruth, this is from Ruth. “We hear a lot about survivor guilt. Did you or your brother ever feel this.”

A - Survivor guilt?

• Yeah, I think this is more to do with the fact that the actual survivors themselves, there seemed to be many of them felt guilty almost for having survived.

A - Yeah, well, I can’t speak for my brother, but I’ve felt deeply guilty for many years of my life, which is partly why I’ve made this huge push in the last few years to try to make up for the terrible things waste of my life for 50 years. So, yes, I felt enormous guilt that I have not been all that I could be and desperately trying to make up for that. And yeah, it is not an easy thing being the child of a survivor. Not an easy thing at all.

Q - This is from Anne. “Are you aware of the book, ‘The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’? If so, what is your opinion of it? I’m asking because it’s been generally very well received by the non-Jewish world, but not by book reviewers from the Association of Jewish Libraries.” And she thanks you for the programme.

• Judy, I’ll let you take that one.

A - Oh, well put it this way. There is no one I know either, survivor, child of a survival or any of my friends who know anything about the Shoah who have anything but totally disdain for that book, frankly. In fact, there’s a prequel. And one reviewer went to so far as to, and I think it was my daughter actually, she went as far as to say it was porn.

• Porn?

• Yeah, yeah, yeah.

• Well, it’s on par with making a cartoon of Anne Frank’s life. I think it’s enough is enough.

• Well, in a way it’s almost part of the digitalization of the Holocaust. It is so impossible to have any credence. And I think people think of, they want to write a story, so let’s do it against the backdrop of the most important thing we can think of. And it’s the fascination with evil. It’s nothing to do with trying to get inside the Shoah itself, to learn from the lessons for the future. It’s actually, I think it’s the most appalling of voyeurism That’s my view. This is from Peter. “I’m the son of two Holocaust survivors in Toronto. Many of our family’s friends were also Holocaust survivors who were surrogate relatives. Some were German families who suffered guilt and were trying to escape the racial chauvinism their parents had indulged in. What this mix produced was a questioning of the racial chauvinism of identity politics. And the disappointment with the popularity of identity politics, a feeling we have failed to progress past such chauvinist identity. Many has feel the lesson we should have learned is not to identify we determined traits. Something many of our leaders and institutions fail to extend a knowledge. Some of us believe we should identify with chosen traits like effort, integrity, and respect for others. Not determine traits like ancestry and race, gender, and sexual orientation.” It’s a comment from Peter.

Q: There’s another question from Nikki. “Maya and Trudy, what sense do you make of Jewish survivors of second generation survivors of camps requesting Polish citizenship?” Any answer to that, Maya?

A - I’m just thinking, I’m just thinking.

• I know why some of my friends or acquaintances have done it. They want they’re cross about the EU.

• Right. Well, so it’s as simple as that.

• It’s pragmatic.

• Right, that’s what I was just musing on when I heard the question. I mean, so it is the same as, for example, my brother’s reason for getting naturalisation because of Brexit.

• Yeah, yeah.

• Well, I think anybody who can remain part of Europe go for it.

Q - “Children of perpetrators cannot apologise nor children of victims to give. They do not have the right.” I don’t think we should even use the word right should we, Maya? It’s just that.

A - It’s not a helpful word. There’s no room for movement in that at all. I mean, I think what is essential, and again, is connected to this whole question of why do people not learn from history, is that if we can’t have engagement with those who have been born from perpetrators and those that have been born from, and I don’t like the word victims, but those that were persecuted. If we can’t begin to talk to each other and make meaning and try and sort of think about how to make a difference, there is no value in anything. And I really do think that it has to be relatable, because if people just go to memorial days or to go and listen to a survivor speak or, which is all important and valid, but it can’t end there, because it’s like hearing something really, my God, how, how, whatever. But how then, but then what happens next? What happens next? How do those lessons then go out into the world? How do we then actually, make a difference in our daily lives? How do we kind of behave in society that it has to go further? It has to go further. And why is this sort of, why are we the Jewish people and it’s not only the Jewish people, but why are we so hated? And I think it’s the most horrendous envy that has been going on for thousands and thousands of years.

• Yeah, it’s awful. I mean, look, whenever there’s economic, social and political pressure, hatred seems to come to the surface and it’s terrible. There’s a very interesting point from Michelle. “My mother was born in Konigsberg and moved to Breslau, which of course, was the birthplace of both your parents, with her multiple second mom as her mum had died in childbirth. Her father who remarried, died when she was four years old. She did not know about her birth mom death until two days before she was placed on a kinder transport train June the sixth, 1939 to England. Never saw her family again. My father from Vienna lost his mother to cancer at 10 years old. And he knew when, from then his career path curing cancer. At 13, he told his father, World War I hero, we must leave. They left that day Hitler drove in and came to America. He later served in the American Army in the OSS in Italy. They continued marching through life, and on the surface were very successful. For me, they had no understanding of teenage angst. I wasn’t dying, no problem, move on.”

• I know just how you feel.

• Let me finish what he has to say, because I think there are parallels. “They also felt it was their way or the highway. This led me not understanding how to manage feelings on my part. They were not taken care of until I was an adult. I bring this up to comment on unresolved trauma. Sister was not affected the same way.” And he says she says, ‘Thank you.’“ Go on comment.

• Thank you, and I totally relate, and I think that’s one of the hardest tasks of being the child of a survivor, is just how invalid our suffering seems. And of course, the hierarchy of suffering is deeply problematic. And yeah, I mean, it’s impossible for a survivor to understand the ordinary needs of their children.

• Yeah. It’s just, yeah, I understand. It’s so, ugh. So many people are saying they’re so touched. And Arlene is talking about a book called "Lily’s Promise”. This is the story of Lily Ebert, who of course, is well known to both your mom and to me and her great grandson. And of course, they’ve done a lot through TikTok to actually spread that story. Now, how old are your mother and the Hoss’ for relative ages? Should we dare answer that?

• Sure, my mom, there’s 10 years between them. My mom is 97 and Jurgen is 87. My mom’s in much better shape.

Q - This is from Susan. “Did you ask him about his mother Ills who was arrested and released in 1948 and continued to be a Hitler supporter for the rest of her life?”

A - That conversation was began and will be continued.

• Okay. Mona says, “You are extraordinary. Your mother is unbelievable. What adjectives can possibly express your family’s survival skills emotionally as well as physically. I’m in awe. Thank you for sharing.” There’s so many wonderful comments, Maya. This is from Barbara Kessel, “Simon Wiesenthal’s book ‘Sunflower’ speaks to the question of German guilt in a way that is almost a companion piece to this conversation. Thank you very much for that.”

Q: Bobby, could you exactly clarify what Juden Durch is?“ Go on you.

A - Well, and the thing is, I’ll do my best, but Trudy would tell it much better. When Moses Mendelson came to Berlin through the gate meant for pigs only and was here in the early days, language and it was before Yiddish was spoken called Juden Durch, which was like a dialect, would you say a dialect? And literally, translated it is fetching. Right.

• I’ll talk. We’re moving on to Germany in our programme and starting next week. So, we’ll be spending a lot of time on this, fascinating.

• Is that my God, so I was sitting here in Berlin, I think after a particularly traumatic week, and I was reading this again, and I just thought, well, yeah, yeah, that’s what I’m doing. That’s why everybody hates me here, because they all hear me and I’m moaning and I’m complaining about this and that and I’m actually, I’m not. I’m just being Maya and I’m just trying to.

Q - Maya, Maya, that’s not true. "Are the Hoss’ doing anything to raise awareness of anti-Semitism now?” Ask Gene.

A - Participating in this film.

• Yeah, I think it’s going to be very important. And for many of you, this film is just being made and I think it will be finished you said quite soon. This is from Catherine. “Thank you for sharing. Would it have been helpful to you, if your parents had told you sooner?”

• I’m a great believer in that things happen when they’re meant to happen. And I also have learned some wisdom in all the years I’ve been on this planet that it couldn’t have been sooner, because there is no right time. So, it’s an impossible answer to an impossible question really. But what I do know, what I really do know, is that my mother just desperately wanted to protect us. And to quote her, she says, how she did not want to traumatise her children forever and tell them that the reason that they don’t have grandparents is that they were shot into their own graves. I think that’s pretty on point.

• And you know what is so extraordinary? I mean, what is extraordinary about your family home is that there are so many photographs, because of your mother’s sister. And they’re one of the most beautiful families I’ve ever seen.

• And I’m physically surrounded.

• And they were a real family of the enlightenment, weren’t they?

• Yeah.

• And it makes it even more extraordinary on so many levels. So many levels.

• And that’s also why I’m here, because I’m not a remotely spiritual person, but I do feel closer to them. And I wrote these books for my grandparents and for Renata and my mom, ‘cause I wanted to place it in perpetuity. Even if I end up in a remains box one day, somebody will have a book somewhere in their bookshelf and my grandparents live and will live forever. And here I also feel somehow well closer to them and the environment. And my mom was here as a young girl. She had to go back to Breslau. And I am German blooded obviously. So, I feel the struggle I’m in. It’s a bloody struggle, but I feel it has a purpose. And so, I’ll keep on struggling for now.

Q - This is from Michael. “We installed Staupenstein in Rokslov. I hope I pronounced that properly for my mother, for my father and his family. Would you consider doing the same for your mother’s family?”

A - I really wanted to, but I approached people and they said, you have to wait. And you know what, I’m sick of the waiting. No, I will not wait when it comes to things like that. So, yes, I really wanted it. My mother wasn’t bothered. I wanted it, but I said this and this and the bureaucracy and I’m waiting, listen, and I’m very put off by that kind of thing. For me, it should be a mitzvah and let’s do it. Let’s just go do it. I don’t want to hear about all the problems that would be involved in doing it. So, absolutely I would like it, but I don’t want the problems that go with it.

Q - This is from David. “How do you know that Rudolph Hoss’ grandson was looking for forgiveness from you? Is that a projection? What do you make of the son’s response to your mother that he felt nothing?” Didn’t say that did you go, go on.

A - No, I don’t think it was a projection. What do I make of that he wanted forgiveness? I think it’s what nearly everybody in that position says and seeks and wants. And as part of the German problem is the guilt and what to do with it. So the obvious thing you do is you try to say, I’m sorry. Well, it doesn’t have that much meaning, but I did feel that Kai’s was full of meaning. What was the other question about?

• The grandson said he felt nothing. I didn’t think you said that.

• No, my mom asked him, “How do you feel about your father now that you’ve seen what he has done?”

• Oh, I see that’s a different story. Misunderstood.

• And he said, “Nothing.” And my mother said, “Probably best.” What do I think about that? Is that the question? I get it. What could he? It’s too big. It’s too big. You can’t what, the man as he said it, unfortunately, my books are in German, so they’re only available for German readers at the moment. But I describe it in the book. As he said this, his eyes were cast down to the floor and he was just drowning in shame. Some things there are no words for some things.

• Yeah, this is from Rita. “‘I’ll tell you when you’re older,’ thank you for sharing. My late parents survivors would say that when I ask questions, ‘I’ll tell you when you are older.’” So many people are thanking you, Maya. And this is from Celine. “Thank you, Maya, I completely understand the pull push feelings you have. Especially, true for those who have previously admired German discoveries in science and engineering. Unfortunately, these discoveries can also be used for different purposes.” Ah, this is from Susan Soyinka, who’s a friend of mine, I want you to meet her, Maya. “Fascinating, profound, thank you so much. As the daughter of Vietnamese Jewish refugee and myself being a retired psychologist, I identified with many of the issues you raised. Have you heard of Jennifer Teague, a German Nigerian who discovered at the age of 38 that her grandfather was Amon Goth depicting in ‘Schindler’s List’. Prior to that she had lived in Israel, had many Jewish friends, was unable to reveal her background for seven years, such is the horror and shame. Her book is called ‘My Grandfather Would’ve Shot Me’.”

• Yeah, no, I was obsessed with her for a while. I read about everything. Absolutely, it’s an incredible, incredible story. Incredible story.

Q - “I’m a child of two Holocaust survivors. I’m wondering if you have any suggestions regarding how to approach my 11 and 9-year-old grandchildren about their personal connections with the Holocaust?” Oi, yes.

A - Are they asking questions? I mean, that’s the thing. I think are they asking questions or they’re not asking questions.

• This is the question for the third generation. Do you tell the third generation? I think that’s the question, isn’t it? Well, I don’t, again, I think it really depends on, I don’t think you don’t tell them, but I think it depends on why you are telling them and how you are telling them. What is the context? That’s what’s really important. I think the sort of, how one is told and what one is told and the sort of real thinking that is required in that. Because one doesn’t want it to be burdened.

Q - This is an interesting question. “I’m a child of a mixed marriage. Jewish mother who lived in Germany throughout the war. Came to the US in ‘51, born on November the 11th, 1938. Well, I’ve struggled to accept my non-Jewish half and I’m still uncomfortable to acknowledge.” The sins of the children. It should never be visited should it, Maya? And Victoria’s asking, “Did your parents talk in German with you?”

• I know.

A - So, they spoke it to each other, but not to the kinder.

• Yeah.

A - Now, I have a huge problem, because I was obviously, unconsciously traumatised by and knew the German was bad, but very confusing, 'cause my parents obviously, are German, spoke German. It’s their first language. And I have great difficulty in learning. Today, in fact, I was on the line looking for intensive crash courses and I’m about to try to choose one. But I think I have to be hypnotised first, because the resistance is so powerful. And it’s a total paradox, 'cause here I am. But it’s very, very difficult. It’s really, really difficult. My mother’s very cross with me that I don’t speak better German.

• My mother’s crossed with me that I don’t know enough Gerta. But then she’s a very unusual person, isn’t she? This is from Michelle again. “Thank you, you understood my comment and questions exactly. It was hard work to be better as I had to do their work and my work. And I still make errors with my children stemming from unresolved things. Comment on the third generation. I’m proud to have worked on these issues and had time to make changes with my children. I also think my parents are amazing and brave. Just not perfect. Who is?”

• Exactly.

• This is from Mike. This is a sad comment. “My parents never got around to telling me their stories in depth. It seemed like there will always be time, but time ran out. Their children remain in the dark about family details. And I see, and I feel lost.” There are so many stories.

• I mean, I assume it really speaks to how important is it. Obviously, these amazing webinars are, but what they need though is for people to share and to walk and connect. That that’s I wish I could see everybody’s faces, but I’m thinking, I think it’s time for another big conference where people can come together.

• Maybe that could be another project, Madam. I think we’ve run out of time, but I just wanted to thank you for not only for the work you’re doing, but an absolutely profound experience. I didn’t read all the thank yous, but believe me, there are so, so many of them. And I think that this is an international community we have here the majority of our international community…

• International community, if you would like a conference, could you write into Lockdown University?

• Oh, no, no, no, they’d go mad. You can talk to me.

• I’ll take it on. Or they can write to me though. I think it’s about engagement.

• I think that’s something you could, that after the film is finished, that could be your next project, couldn’t it? But look, I’ll tell you what, would you please come back when the film is finished so we can see it and have the opportunity to talk to you again?

• Of course, my pleasure.

• And look, be safe, look after yourself and I’ll be seeing you very soon.

• You will indeed. Thank you, everybody.

• Bye-bye, God bless.