URGENT UPDATE: Today marks the 30th anniversary of the death of renowned British philosopher Gillian Rose, who passed away on December 9, 1995, at just 48 years old. Rose’s profound reflections on her visit to Auschwitz in April 1992 are gaining renewed attention as the world grapples with rising far-right authoritarianism.
New reports reveal that Rose, part of a delegation of Jewish scholars, was invited to advise Poland’s new government on how to present Auschwitz to the public. This initiative came in the wake of Poland’s shift from communist rule and aimed to confront the historical narrative that had minimized the Jewish dimension of the genocide during the previous regime. The Polish Commission for the Future of Auschwitz sought to ensure a balanced representation of the camp’s history while addressing its roles as a museum, tourist destination, and cemetery.
However, Rose raised unsettling questions about the nature of remembrance itself. She warned that even the most well-intentioned efforts to memorialize could devolve into mere performances of righteousness, distracting from the deeper, unsettling truths about human complicity in past atrocities.
In her acclaimed memoir, Love’s Work, recently reissued, Rose argued that the act of remembering must be accompanied by a critical examination of the conditions that allow atrocities to occur. As she expressed, “Existence is robbed of its weight, its gravity, when it is deprived of its agon.”
Rose’s insights are particularly relevant today as she cautioned against treating Auschwitz solely as a symbol of evil, warning that doing so could obscure the everyday realities that foster such horrors. “To treat Auschwitz as incomprehensible… is paradoxically comforting,” she wrote. This perspective challenges individuals to confront their own roles within societal structures that may perpetuate injustice.
Reflecting on her experience at Auschwitz, Rose noted, “We were set up… our participation was staged.” She felt that the delegates, rather than serving as genuine advisors, became cultural props in a carefully constructed narrative about Poland’s engagement with its past.
As political tensions rise globally, Rose’s message is clear: confronting the past requires a rigorous, self-reflective approach to understanding our own potential for complicity. “Morality is not enough,” she argued, emphasizing that good intentions must be accompanied by a critical awareness of societal dynamics.
In light of recent artistic portrayals of Auschwitz, such as Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, Rose’s critiques remain timely. The film, which depicts the lives of Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss and his family in a domestic setting, prompts discussions about the dangers of normalizing such brutality. Critics argue that while it attempts to humanize the perpetrators, it risks creating a safe distance between audiences and the harsh realities of complicity.
As we commemorate Gillian Rose today, her call for vigilance in remembrance and self-examination resonates profoundly in an era where the specter of authoritarianism looms large. Her legacy urges us to confront uncomfortable truths about our past and present, reminding us that genuine transformation begins with a critical understanding of our shared history and responsibilities.
The global community is encouraged to reflect on Rose’s insights as we collectively navigate these challenging times. For further engagement with her work, readers are invited to explore Love’s Work and other writings that delve into her philosophical explorations of memory, morality, and the human condition.
