Rediscovering Rudolf Vrba, the Hero And Humanitarian

Photos of Auschwitz escapees and authors of the Auschwitz Report, Rudolf Vrba (left) and Alfred Wetzler.

I remember clearly the first time I learned about one of the 20th century’s greatest and yet least-known humanitarians and heroes, Rudolf Vrba.

Vrba is one of a small number of Jewish prisoners to have successfully escaped from the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration and death camps, located in Oswiecim, Poland, in the spring of 1944, as the camps were speeding up the murder of Jewish civilians still living in areas of Nazi control and influence.

That so few know his story remains a tragedy to us all, because of this event’s sheer improbability and the obvious audacity of what he and his fellow Czechoslovakian prisoner, Alfred Wetzler, accomplished in April 1944. The two successfully undertook an escape and resistance mission, in order to save more than 800,000 Hungarian Jewish citizens from extermination at the Birkenau death camp gas chambers.

They provided a detailed report on Auschwitz-Birkenau to Slovakian Jewish leaders, who helped disseminate it to other Jewish leaders, the Papacy, and the Allies, making it the first reliable document to reach the world and the Allies and to be accepted as credible. The report broke the apathy and indifference to the genocide, already long underway by the Nazis. Yet the report and its news never reached the populace it was intended to save, and more than 400,000 Hungarian Jews would be killed between May and July 1944, when the transportations were halted.

I first saw their photographs hanging in the museum at the site of the Auschwitz camp complex in July 2000. At that time, I was completing a documentary photography project focused on the Nazi death and concentration camps.

Standing in the museum, housed in a former Nazi administrative building, I read with utter amazement a short history of an impossible feat. Two young Slovakian Jewish internees had escaped the greatest hidden facility in the Nazi’s universe of militarized camps across Europe and the nerve center of the Nazi death machinery still operating in 1944.

The entrance to the Birkenau Death Camp, from which Rudolf Vrba and Alfred Wetzler escaped in April 1944.

Vrba published his gripping account of this heroic and true story in his celebrated 1963 memoir, I Escaped from Auschwitz. The book remains in print in over a dozen languages around the world.

Vrba’s own words written on Sept. 7, 1963, in a letter to the British newspaper, the Observer, summarized what he details with scientific precision in his book. “With my friend Fred Wetzler from Slovakia, I managed to escape from Auschwitz on April 7, 1944, and we headed straight for the Zionist leaders. In April 1944, we handed to a high representative of the Zionist movement, Dr. Oskar Neumann, a sixty-page detailed report on the fact that extermination of 1,760,000 Jews had taken place in Auschwitz and that preparations were complete for the annihilation of one million Jewish Hungarians during the very next weeks. Did the Judenrat (or the Judenverrat) in Hungary tell their Jews what was awaiting them? No, they remained silent and for this silence some of their leaders—for instance Dr. [ Rezsö] Kasztner—bartered their own lives and the lives of 1,684 other ‘prominent’ Jews directly from [Adolf] Eichmann. They were not ‘helpless and benumbed hostages’ but clever diplomats who knew what their silence was worth. The 1,684 Jews whom they bought from Eichmann included not only various prominent Zionists, not only relatives of Kasztner, etc., but also such Jews who were able to pay with millions, like the family of Manfred Weiss. At the same time, they silently watched as more than 400,000 Hungarian Jews, unaware of their fate, were tricked into Auschwitz, where thousands of their children were not even gassed but merely thrown into the pyre alive.”

STORY CONTINUED ON MY WEBSITE; GO HERE.

Knowing when it is time to make a change

In 1997, I began a photodocumentary project on genocide in Rwanda, visiting two infamous genocide sites and the Kigali area. I only spent two weeks in that central African nation, but the experience profoundly moved me and changed my life.

machete color

The machete, a common tool found in nearly every Rwanda household, was the principal murder tool of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda. I photographed this in the backyard of a Rwandan home in 1997.

In the spring and summer of 2000 and fall of 2001, I completed the second phase of my visual exploration of genocide in the 20th century by visiting Nazi camps and Holocaust sites in seven European countries. In October 2001, I completed the project by visiting historic sites associated with the genocide of the Armenian people by the Ottoman Turks during and after World War I.

My work on this difficult topic ended shortly after, in 2002. My photos have been published on my Web site and magazines, and they were displayed in numerous photo shows in the Seattle, Wash., area. My photos and stories continue to draw thousands of visitors every week to my Web site, which I will continue to publish as a free on-line resource for the public. I hope these images and stories will be useful for those who want to learn about crimes against humanity, how they occurred, and what forces motivated the perpetrators of these unspeakable acts.

As a photographer and documentarian, I moved on to other projects–focussing on the human potential for goodness. I am still keeping my content online to inform anyone who is doing online research. I still get notes from the public, around the world about this work. Images also can still be licensed to media organizations, publishers, and individuals.

Finally, I will make a personal note about this project. It began in a dark place, not long after the massacres of Hutu moderates and ethnic Tutsis in Rwanda. On that trip in June 1997, I developed malaria, which in part led to my decision to leave the country.

In November 2001, soon after my trip to Turkey photographing Armenian genocide and cultural sites, I visited Netherlands. I travelled to Camp Westerbork, the main deportation center for Jews in occupied Netherlands in World War II. The camp was the staging ground for the deportation of mostly Jewish civilians to death camps in Poland and other concentration camps in Nazi Europe.

I suffered a strange and painful relapse of malaria at the camp, and had to visit a hospital that night for care. This was not a coincidence, as I recently realized. The physical and psychic journeys had taken their toll, and it was clear I needed to put this project behind me.

In 2002, I tossed a small item, a piece of an electrical transformer I found at the death camp Birkenau, into the Puget Sound, as part of my ritual ending a stage of my creative life.

In 2002, I tossed a small item, a piece of an electrical transformer I found at the death camp Birkenau, into the Puget Sound, as part of my ritual ending a stage of my creative life.

In June 2002, I marked the end of this journey by donating my entire collection of more than 50 framed black and white and color framed photographs to the Washington State Holocaust Education Resource Center of Seattle, Wash (now called Holocaust Center for Humanity). My hope is that the pictures will continue to provide insight for the Holocaust studies and human rights education the center provides to residents of Washington state and the Pacific Northwest.

As I now look back on this project, from its start almost two decades ago, it is good to remember what I learned, and it also is valuable to realize when change is good and you need to move your creative energies in new, and also positive, directions. Always.