Remembering means Acting! A speech by Jobst Bittner

Speech by Jobst Bittner, founder and president of the March of Life movement, at the commemoration event “80 Years and no Final Line” on May 7, 2025, in Berlin at the Federal Press Conference Center.

 

My name is Jobst Bittner. Allow me to introduce myself briefly: I am a pastor, founder and president of the March of Life movement. Every year, the movement mobilizes tens of thousands of people in 20 nations to take to the streets against antisemitism and for Israel. 

 

My father was an officer in the Wehrmacht, fought in Africa under Rommel in World War II, was taken prisoner of war by the Americans and interned in Tennessee, and returned home in 1947. 

 

I am a child of the late 50’s. My generation is referred to as the post-war generation. Our fathers wore hats, built their new lives and spoke of the war as if it had been some kind of adventure. I remember many conversations in our family living room in the 60s. The deaths of six million Jews, the invasion of Poland and the suffering that was inflicted on millions of families did not come up in our conversations. 

 

I myself come from Tübingen, a city in southern Germany where Nazi war criminals, such as SS Einsatzgruppen leader Walter Stahlecker, were trained at the university–men who were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Jews. 

 

80 years ago, the criminal war of the Nazi regime ended on May 7, 1945 with the signing of the unconditional surrender in Reims, France. May 8, 1945 officially marks the end of the war as the “Day of Liberation”. 

 

The Second World War was one of the most devastating conflicts in human history, claiming a total of between 70 and 85 million lives. Six million Jews were systematically persecuted by the National Socialist regime and murdered in concentration and extermination camps. Sinti and Roma, homosexuals, people with disabilities and political opponents were also victims of Nazi terror. 

 

The 80th anniversary of the end of the war is not only a historic date. The 80th anniversary of the end of the war means the victory of the Allies over a totalitarian dictatorship.  

 

It falls to us to draw consequences from the past for the present. I ask myself: What does this commemoration mean in the year 2025, when hatred of Jews is virtually exploding, and the world seems to be moving back in the direction of authoritarian systems? 

 

The end of the war in 1945 was a military victory, but was it also a moral new beginning? The rule of the Nazi state had completely destroyed democratic structures, abolished freedom of expression and religion and systematically violated human rights. The occupation by the Allies marked the beginning of a profound change. The support of the USA after the Second World War contributed significantly to the development of the Federal Republic of Germany as a stable democracy. Without this help, the path to freedom and prosperity would hardly have been possible.  

 

The 80th anniversary is a warning that our democratic values–such as human dignity, freedom of expression and freedom of religion–cannot be taken for granted, but must be rediscovered, actively lived and resolutely defended again and again. 

 

Germany after the war in 1945:  The war is lost and Germany is finished. For most Germans, the capitulation was a “collapse”. Cities, roads and bridges were bombed, millions of people were fleeing or displaced. People were living in emergency shelters, families were torn apart–there was nothing left to hold on to and stand up. It is called the “zero hour”. From that time on, the families’ history of guilt, whether active or passive, was hidden behind a veil of silence. That was the time when the people of the perpetrators was made out to be a people of victims. 

 

Commemoration must not only look back. It must build a bridge to the present and future. The 80th anniversary of the surrender is more than a memory. It is a warning. It is an obligation. And it has to call a spade a spade–even if it is painful. 

 

The 80th anniversary of the surrender coincides with an open wound: Hamas’ terror attack on Israel on October 7, 2023. On that day, the terrorist organization Hamas attacked Israel with a brutality reminiscent of the darkest chapter of Jewish history. People were cruelly murdered, hostages abducted, sexually abused and tortured. Since that time, Hamas has terrorized both Israel and its own population with a destructive war. We continue to remember the hostages in Gaza who have been held captive in inhumane conditions for over 600 days–like Guy Gilboa-Dalal–and together we demand: “Release them!” 

 

October 7 was a turning point. It shows that antisemitism is not history. It is the present. And what followed was another shock: not only about the violence, but also about the silence. The silence in classrooms, in universities, in numerous media and churches. The hesitation to find clear words. The relativizations. Looking the other way. How can it be that after such a massacre of Jews, empathy dries up so quickly?   

 

If Jewish suffering is answered with silence, it is no coincidence–it is a failure. This silence is not background noise. It is an alarm signal. Because antisemitism does not only feed on slogans. It also thrives on looking the other way, trivializing–and on the silence of the majority. 

 

But what if antisemitism has never left our heads? Indifference and silence have been clear hallmarks of antisemitism and Jew-hatred for more than 2,000 years. Reality shows that after almost 80 years, antisemitism is more deeply rooted in us than ever before. 

 

I ask myself: What went wrong with us? Have all instruments of working through the past failed? What about our memorials, museums and educational assistance? What about all the literature, the countless documentaries and films? What about our days of remembrance and all our attempts to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive? 

 

How can it be that despite an unprecedented working through of the past in politics and society, more than 27% of all Germans now harbor antisemitic attitudes? Is it possible that under the cover of the veil of silence, antisemitism and hatred of Jews have been passed on to the present generation? How much antisemitism and hatred of Jews must lie dormant in a person in order to downplay a massacre of 1,400 Jews and to overlook it without empathy? 

 

The social scientist and antisemitism commissioner Samuel Salzborn would not be surprised. In his book “Collective Innocence”, he pointed out years ago that antisemitism would once again become a bloody reality in German remembrance by refusing to remember the Shoah. Today we are experiencing the dramatic consequences of a refusal to remember, which made the perpetrator’s guilt of one’s own parents and grandparents disappear. The seeming success story of the German working through the past has never actually reached our families. 

 

A study by the Bielefeld Institute for Interdisciplinary Research on Conflict and Violence shows how much memory is shaped by family history: almost 70% of those surveyed denied having Nazi perpetrators in their own family at all. Quite on the contrary, almost 30% are convinced that their ancestors helped potential victims–when in fact, only 0.3% of Germans did so. 

 

Antisemitism thrives on our unwillingness to look at and come to terms with the truth of our own families. Anyone who wants to effectively counter Jew-hatred and antisemitism will have to begin with the history of guilt in his own family.

 

Coming to terms with guilt, be it personal or historical, is indispensable. But without forgiveness, memory threatens to become a weapon. 

 

When we help people look at their family history, we encourage them to learn from it and find words that their ancestors did not find. They often do this with a request for forgiveness. Their request for forgiveness is not a frivolous brushing off or minimizing, but the expression of their inner dismay. They understand that their family’s refusal to remember can only be broken by a personal act of humility. 

 

A society based on Judeo-Christian values is not characterized by flawlessness, but by the strength to admit one’s own failures, to tread paths of reconciliation and thus to create the possibility of a new beginning. 

 

• I recall the historic meeting between German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion in New York on March 14, 1960. This meeting opened the door to a new era of cooperation and reconciliation between Germany and Israel. 

 

• I remember Willy Brandt’s genuflection in Warsaw. On December 7, 1970, the then Chancellor unexpectedly knelt down in front of the monument to the heroes of the Warsaw Ghetto. This symbolic plea for forgiveness for the crimes of Nazi Germany marked a decisive turning point in the history of Polish-German reconciliation. 

 

• And I am thinking of the success story of Franco-German reconciliation. 

 

The Jewish publicist Hannah Arendt reported on the trial of Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem and states in her book The Human Condition that forgiveness was the only action that makes the unforeseeable possible–namely a new beginning.

 

The theologian and resistance fighter Dietrich Bonhoeffer was executed 80 years ago–on April 9, 1945 – in the Flossenbürg concentration camp. He said that forgiveness was the only thing that can break the vicious cycle of guilt and retribution.

 

Forgiveness needs truth–but truth also needs forgiveness. Those who have forgotten how to forgive will sooner or later also unlearn democracy–because without the request for forgiveness, all that remains is hardness, division, and self-righteousness.  

 

Many people are not aware that the desire to draw a line under the past already began in the ruins of Germany in 1945. At that time, the Germans preferred to forget and look ahead. With the end of the Nuremberg Trials (1945/46), so their demand, the Nazi era was also to come to an end. It was not until the end of the 1970s, when the TV series “Holocaust” was aired on German television, that there was public talk about the murder of millions of Jews. It was the beginning of a necessary public working through of the Shoah, which in other countries was considered exemplary for a long time. 

 

According to recent surveys, 80 years after the end of the Second World War, 55% of Germans want to draw a concluding line under the Nazi past. 28% of those surveyed said that the Nazi era also had its good sides.

 

Those who opposes antisemitism and hatred of Jews take a responsibility across the generations. Even 80 years after the end of the war, there must be no final line. History warns and says: Forgetting is not an option! 

 

The Holocaust did not begin with the burning of synagogues. It began with words. With mockery. With exclusion. With indifference. And it became possible because too many remained silent. 

 

The 80th anniversary of the end of the Second World War is not only a look into the past. It is a mirror for our present. And it is a call to all of us: Look. Listen. Contradict. Stand up. 

 

The united message of the March of Life movement for this year is “We will not be silent!” This call has been echoed at more than 50 marches all over the world this year alone. A total of 100 marches in 22 nations have been planned for 2025. 

 

So we are calling out, “We will not be silent!” For this reason, the exclamation mark in the motto “We will not be silent!” is more than just a punctuation mark–it is a deliberately placed symbol. 

 

The exclamation mark is an expression of our determined stance! “We will not be silent!” is not a cautious diplomatic phrase but stands for an unmistakable message and a clear position. 

 

The exclamation mark breaks through any speechlessness and says: “We actively break the silence in the face of antisemitism and Jew-hatred: loudly, audibly and visibly.” 

 

The exclamation mark stands for solidarity! We are showing that we stand by the side of the Jewish communities and Israel–not only with melodious words, but with a clear, unmistakable voice. 

 

The exclamation mark contradicts any normalization! We are saying that we show the red card to any attempt to relativize antisemitism and hatred of Jews and to integrate them into society! 

 

The exclamation mark is a wake-up call! It is an appeal to all those who are still hesitating–a signal that says: “Now is the time to take a clear stand. Not later. Not quietly. But in all clarity!” 

 

I would like to end my presentation with a well-known quote by the Holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Elie Wiesel, to whom I had the pleasure of introducing the March of Life movement in Boston shortly before his death: “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

 

80 years after the end of the war, remembrance must not become a mere routine–it must be our driving force to take responsibility. It calls on us to look at the truth of our family history and to mobilize people around the world to take a vigorous stand against antisemitism year after year and to strengthen friendship with Israel.