Silence, indifference act as accelerants for hatred

For Jews across Long Island, and around the world, the Holocaust continues to be a nightmare that never recedes, an ominous shadow that is present in every antisemitic attack, every blood libel, and every online post where neo-Nazis share their hatred.

On Nov. 9, the 87th anniversary of Kristallnacht, it is important to reflect on a night of carefully organized, state-sanctioned violence that would be a precursor to the systematic destruction of Europe's Jews. As German police looked on, storm troopers destroyed synagogues, Jewish businesses, and murdered hundreds. Today, recalling Kristallnacht is the means to recognize how government-sanctioned violence allowed racial hatred to become official state policy that would soon lead to the industrialized murder of millions.

Today's rising antisemitism has a toxic poison all its own with online conspiracy theories, deadly synagogue attacks and Holocaust denial. And yet there are echoes of 1938 and Kristallnacht with its warning: silence and indifference act as accelerants for hatred.

As the first generation son of a Holocaust survivor, I have a lifelong responsibility to confront this scourge. My father, Maurice Vegh, was a young Czech teenager who would survive the concentration camps of Auschwitz and later Buchenwald by luck, fate and divine help.

At the height of World War II, he and his family were herded into cattle cars along with other Jews from their small village and sent on an agonizing journey to the gates of Auschwitz.

An SS officer stood in front of them as they poured out of the rail cars. He said in German "Nach links," you to the left, and "Nach rechts," you to the right. Later my family found out it was the infamous Dr. Josef Mengele who was selecting who would live for the moment and who would be immediately directed to the gas chambers. My grandmother and aunt were motioned to the left. They were gassed that day. My grandfather was motioned to go to the right, allowed to live another day. My father would follow him.

Maurice would survive, including a forced winter march from Auschwitz to Buchenwald as the Nazis sought to prevent liberation. My grandfather did not survive the march.

Maurice became a naturalized American citizen, joined the military and found himself assigned to special operations with instructions to help track down Nazi war criminals in Austria. In time, he settled in Long Beach, happily married for 56 years, and lived to see three children and seven grandchildren. But he never forgot how his world descended into murderous chaos and would share his story of survival with generations of schoolchildren.

As we mark the anniversary this weekend of what became known as Kristallnacht, we need to recognize that it is a powerful reminder of how ordinary citizens participated or remained silent while their Jewish neighbors' lives were destroyed. Today, we face similar choices when encountering antisemitism, whether online or in our communities. The Holocaust didn't begin with death camps — it began with dehumanizing language, discriminatory policies and violent attacks on people and places that went unopposed.

Kristallnacht teaches us that incremental tolerance of hatred creates the environment for catastrophe. Education and the immediate condemnation of antisemitism aren't optional. These are essential tools to prevent history's darkest chapters from repeating.

The only time my dad would break down was when he spoke of his family — Wolf, Rose and Esther — murdered among the 6 million Jews of the Holocaust. When I would ask why he was not angry or bitter he would respond, "If I stayed angry all my life, they would have won."

Now it's not about being angry. It's about being forever vigilant.

This guest essay reflects the views of Warren Vegh of Long Beach, who is a content contributor to The Museum of American Armor in Old Bethpage.