Latest news with #EphraimMirvis
Yahoo
06-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
I saw Bergen-Belsen through the eyes of a 94-year-old survivor returning for the first time
Twenty-five years ago, as I left Auschwitz, I was certain I would never set foot in a concentration camp again. As the granddaughter of a survivor, I felt a duty to witness and to honour – but I knew that what I saw during those few days in Poland would remain etched in my memory forever. And I was right. I remember so clearly stepping into those cramped barracks, seeing the blue residue of Zyklon B on the gas chamber walls, walking the railway tracks that had carried thousands of Jews on a catastrophic one-way journey. Certain memories time cannot erode. Yet fast forward a few decades, and I find myself visiting a concentration camp again – Bergen-Belsen. This time, my motivation is not to see, but to hear – from survivors themselves. The opportunity to visit the camps alongside those who lived through those dark chapters of history is becoming ever more rare. But to mark the 80th anniversary of its liberation by British troops – and ahead of VE Day – survivors (as well as dignitaries including Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner and Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis) have gathered at the former concentration camp. Among them are Bergen-Belsen survivors Mala Tribich and Susan Pollack, both gravely ill with malnutrition and typhus when they were liberated in April 1945. Susan, 14 at the time, has never returned to Bergen-Belsen – until today. She still remembers that moment of liberation in painful detail. 'I was starving, and I wasn't able to walk any more,' she tells me, her eyes watery with age and memory. 'So I crawled out [of the barracks]. I crawled out to die. There were so many rotting bodies to be seen everywhere.' Her tone softens: 'Then a pair of gentle hands lifted me up. And who was that? A British soldier.' Does she remember what went through her mind at that moment? 'It was a miracle,' she says. At 94, she is still a walking miracle. When I first meet her, it is 6am and she is striding through Stansted Airport clutching a stick that seems to be struggling to keep up with her. She's resplendent, even at such an ungodly hour, in a pretty pink pullover and matching lipstick. We are flying to Hanover and then driving the hour-long journey to Bergen-Belsen as part of the UK delegation organised by Ajex (the Jewish Military Association). Eighty years ago, when the British freed the people from that hell on earth, they didn't just bring skeletons back from the brink of death; they restored humanity and dignity. As a British Jew, it's a piece of history that fills me with both pride and gratitude. The first troops to enter the camp were from the 63rd Anti-Tank Regiment, Royal Artillery, under the command of Lt Col Richard Taylor, accompanied by a loudspeaker truck from the Intelligence Corps. Amongst them was Sgt Norman Turgel, a Jewish officer in the British army. His son, sitting alongside me at the ceremony today, tells the story of how Norman came across a young woman in the camp, who, despite her own unbearable grief and frailty, was helping to nurse other survivors. 'That woman was my mother,' he says. 'They formed a bond that turned into love, something almost unimaginable in a place built for death.' Six weeks later they were married – his mother, Gina, wearing a wedding dress sewed from British military silks, gifted from Norman's comrades. Meanwhile, British veteran Stanley Fisher from the West Midlands, who was unable to make the journey (he's 100 years old), recalls his experience in a message. 'I fought through France and all the way to northern Germany, eventually stationed very close to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp where I witnessed horrors that have stayed with me all my life.' By the time Bergen-Belsen was liberated, around 70,000 people had already died there, mainly due to disease or starvation. Albrecht Weinberg, a 100-year-old survivor from Germany, remembers the moment British soldiers arrived. He had been deported to Bergen-Belsen on a wagon. 'Our bodies were tipped out,' he says. 'Two days later, a tank drove in. I thought, 'Now I'll finally be freed by death', but it was British soldiers coming to liberate us.' He was a 20-year-old man at the time, but weighed only 4st 7lb. Over afternoon refreshments, Susan explains what perhaps needs no explanation – why she has never returned. 'Bergen-Belsen, for me, was a place of death,' she tells me, leaning in, her voice low, her words hesitant. 'Of suffering.' Today, very little of the camp remains. The site is barren, save for a memorial obelisk, but grass mounds now mark the locations of mass graves, with thousands buried beneath each. Susan shares a memory from her arrival here in 1944. Among the 'walking skeletons,' she recognised an old friend and neighbour from her hometown of Felsőgöd in Hungary. Susan's father had been taken by the Nazis early in the war, and she had been separated from her mother and brother while at Auschwitz. So the familiar face must have been a comfort to that teenage girl, and the memory still swirls in her mind more than 80 years later. 'She recognised me and asked, 'Do you think I'm going to survive?' The following day, I went back to see her, but she had lice all over her.' In the camp, lice spread typhus. A look tells me what I need not ask. 'Very few survived in Bergen-Belsen,' she says simply. Susan (then Zsuzsanna Blau) was one of those who did – just – but she was alone. More than 50 members of her family had been murdered. She later discovered her mother had been gassed at Auschwitz. Her brother survived but never mentally recovered. He had been made to work as a Sonderkommando (work units made up of death camp prisoners), shovelling dead bodies from the gas chambers to the ovens. Recalling those early years after liberation, Susan says: 'They were very difficult times. Here I am, a youngster. I don't speak English. I have no support and no financial help because I had no relatives.' She was sent to Sweden to recover and was then taken to Canada, where she met fellow survivor Abraham Pollack. 'He liked me. Then we became friends. And we shared many similar experiences, so we understood each other.' Susan was 18 when they got married but says they didn't know many people; her husband had to pay two people at work to be their witnesses. 'I'm here now because of my husband. He used to work two shifts every day,' she says. Her philosophy has always been to look forward. She had three children and in 1963 the family moved to London, where she worked as a librarian and eventually got a degree in history, aged 60. It was only later in life she started to work with organisations like the Holocaust Educational Trust to share her experiences and educate. I know little of my own family's experiences, one generation always wanting to protect the next from their horrific memories, except that my grandfather Brian, originally from Pabianice in Poland, was in Buchenwald when he was liberated. He passed away when my father was 14, so I never had the chance to meet him. My grandmother, also from Pabianice, moved to London before the war, but her mother and sister survived Auschwitz, passing off as sisters. One of the only details of their experience that I know is that they lived in relentless fear – not only day-to-day, but second-to-second. They knew any moment could be their last. My grandmother's other sister, Yadja, was gassed in a lorry, and most of the large extended family perished. But her cousin, Helen Aronson, was one of the few survivors of the Łódź Ghetto – she celebrated her 98th birthday last week. She survived by hiding underground when the Nazis came to 'liquidate' the ghetto. Like Susan, every life to emerge from those camps was miraculous. Being part of that legacy means I will always feel gratitude for being here, but it also feels like it comes with responsibility – to ensure memories are kept alive and lessons are never forgotten. As we file off the plane in London, I take a moment to sit with Susan, still perky at the end of an 18-hour day. With a warm smile and an invitation to pop over to her house for tea, she tells me she's happy she made the decision to go. I am too – and I hope to help keep the memories she's shared with me alive. Like that visit to Auschwitz 25 years ago, Susan's story of survival will always be with me. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Telegraph
06-05-2025
- General
- Telegraph
I saw Bergen-Belsen through the eyes of a 94-year-old survivor returning for the first time
Twenty-five years ago, as I left Auschwitz, I was certain I would never set foot in a concentration camp again. As the granddaughter of a survivor, I felt a duty to witness and to honour – but I knew that what I saw during those few days in Poland would remain etched in my memory forever. And I was right. I remember so clearly stepping into those cramped barracks, seeing the blue residue of Zyklon B on the gas chamber walls, walking the railway tracks that had carried thousands of Jews on a catastrophic one-way journey. Certain memories time cannot erode. Yet fast forward a few decades, and I find myself visiting a concentration camp again – Bergen-Belsen. This time, my motivation is not to see, but to hear – from survivors themselves. The opportunity to visit the camps alongside those who lived through those dark chapters of history is becoming ever more rare. But to mark the 80th anniversary of its liberation by British troops – and ahead of VE Day – survivors (as well as dignitaries including Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner and Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis) have gathered at the former concentration camp. Among them are Bergen-Belsen survivors Mala Tribich and Susan Pollack, both gravely ill with malnutrition and typhus when they were liberated in April 1945. Susan, 14 at the time, has never returned to Bergen-Belsen – until today. She still remembers that moment of liberation in painful detail. 'I was starving, and I wasn't able to walk any more,' she tells me, her eyes watery with age and memory. 'So I crawled out [of the barracks]. I crawled out to die. There were so many rotting bodies to be seen everywhere.' Her tone softens: 'Then a pair of gentle hands lifted me up. And who was that? A British soldier.' Does she remember what went through her mind at that moment? 'It was a miracle,' she says. At 94, she is still a walking miracle. When I first meet her, it is 6am and she is striding through Stansted Airport clutching a stick that seems to be struggling to keep up with her. She's resplendent, even at such an ungodly hour, in a pretty pink pullover and matching lipstick. We are flying to Hanover and then driving the hour-long journey to Bergen-Belsen as part of the UK delegation organised by Ajex (the Jewish Military Association). Eighty years ago, when the British freed the people from that hell on earth, they didn't just bring skeletons back from the brink of death; they restored humanity and dignity. As a British Jew, it's a piece of history that fills me with both pride and gratitude. The first troops to enter the camp were from the 63rd Anti-Tank Regiment, Royal Artillery, under the command of Lt Col Richard Taylor, accompanied by a loudspeaker truck from the Intelligence Corps. Amongst them was Sgt Norman Turgel, a Jewish officer in the British army. His son, sitting alongside me at the ceremony today, tells the story of how Norman came across a young woman in the camp, who, despite her own unbearable grief and frailty, was helping to nurse other survivors. 'That woman was my mother,' he says. 'They formed a bond that turned into love, something almost unimaginable in a place built for death.' Six weeks later they were married – his mother, Gina, wearing a wedding dress sewed from British military silks, gifted from Norman's comrades. Meanwhile, British veteran Stanley Fisher from the West Midlands, who was unable to make the journey (he's 100 years old), recalls his experience in a message. 'I fought through France and all the way to northern Germany, eventually stationed very close to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp where I witnessed horrors that have stayed with me all my life.' By the time Bergen-Belsen was liberated, around 70,000 people had already died there, mainly due to disease or starvation. Albrecht Weinberg, a 100-year-old survivor from Germany, remembers the moment British soldiers arrived. He had been deported to Bergen-Belsen on a wagon. 'Our bodies were tipped out,' he says. 'Two days later, a tank drove in. I thought, 'Now I'll finally be freed by death', but it was British soldiers coming to liberate us.' He was a 20-year-old man at the time, but weighed only 4st 7lb. Over afternoon refreshments, Susan explains what perhaps needs no explanation – why she has never returned. 'Bergen-Belsen, for me, was a place of death,' she tells me, leaning in, her voice low, her words hesitant. 'Of suffering.' Today, very little of the camp remains. The site is barren, save for a memorial obelisk, but grass mounds now mark the locations of mass graves, with thousands buried beneath each. Susan shares a memory from her arrival here in 1944. Among the 'walking skeletons,' she recognised an old friend and neighbour from her hometown of Felsőgöd in Hungary. Susan's father had been taken by the Nazis early in the war, and she had been separated from her mother and brother while at Auschwitz. So the familiar face must have been a comfort to that teenage girl, and the memory still swirls in her mind more than 80 years later. 'She recognised me and asked, 'Do you think I'm going to survive?' The following day, I went back to see her, but she had lice all over her.' In the camp, lice spread typhus. A look tells me what I need not ask. 'Very few survived in Bergen-Belsen,' she says simply. Susan (then Zsuzsanna Blau) was one of those who did – just – but she was alone. More than 50 members of her family had been murdered. She later discovered her mother had been gassed at Auschwitz. Her brother survived but never mentally recovered. He had been made to work as a Sonderkommando (work units made up of death camp prisoners), shovelling dead bodies from the gas chambers to the ovens. Recalling those early years after liberation, Susan says: 'They were very difficult times. Here I am, a youngster. I don't speak English. I have no support and no financial help because I had no relatives.' She was sent to Sweden to recover and was then taken to Canada, where she met fellow survivor Abraham Pollack. 'He liked me. Then we became friends. And we shared many similar experiences, so we understood each other.' Susan was 18 when they got married but says they didn't know many people; her husband had to pay two people at work to be their witnesses. 'I'm here now because of my husband. He used to work two shifts every day,' she says. Her philosophy has always been to look forward. She had three children and in 1963 the family moved to London, where she worked as a librarian and eventually got a degree in history, aged 60. It was only later in life she started to work with organisations like the Holocaust Educational Trust to share her experiences and educate. I know little of my own family's experiences, one generation always wanting to protect the next from their horrific memories, except that my grandfather Brian, originally from Pabianice in Poland, was in Buchenwald when he was liberated. He passed away when my father was 14, so I never had the chance to meet him. My grandmother, also from Pabianice, moved to London before the war, but her mother and sister survived Auschwitz, passing off as sisters. One of the only details of their experience that I know is that they lived in relentless fear – not only day-to-day, but second-to-second. They knew any moment could be their last. My grandmother's other sister, Yadja, was gassed in a lorry, and most of the large extended family perished. But her cousin, Helen Aronson, was one of the few survivors of the Łódź Ghetto – she celebrated her 98th birthday last week. She survived by hiding underground when the Nazis came to 'liquidate' the ghetto. Like Susan, every life to emerge from those camps was miraculous. Being part of that legacy means I will always feel gratitude for being here, but it also feels like it comes with responsibility – to ensure memories are kept alive and lessons are never forgotten. As we file off the plane in London, I take a moment to sit with Susan, still perky at the end of an 18-hour day. With a warm smile and an invitation to pop over to her house for tea, she tells me she's happy she made the decision to go. I am too – and I hope to help keep the memories she's shared with me alive, as the collective voice of the survivors becomes ever quieter. Like that visit to Auschwitz 25 years ago, Susan's story will always be with me.
Middle East Eye
20-03-2025
- Politics
- Middle East Eye
UK chief rabbi drops out of Israeli antisemitism conference over far-right attendees
British Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis has become the latest prominent figure to drop out of an Israeli government-backed conference on antisemitism after invites were given to far-right European politicians. The event, sponsored by Israel's diaspora affairs ministry, is set to be held on 26 and 27 March in Jerusalem. Conference invitees include Jordan Bardella, the president of the right-wing National Rally party in France, which was founded by Holocaust denier Jean-Marie Le Pen. It also includes politicians from European far-right parties including the Sweden Democrats and Hungary's Fidesz party. The chief rabbi's office said that he had been "made aware of the attendance of a number of far-right populist politicians" and would "no longer be attending". New MEE newsletter: Jerusalem Dispatch Sign up to get the latest insights and analysis on Israel-Palestine, alongside Turkey Unpacked and other MEE newsletters Mirvis is known in Britain to be supportive of Israel's war on Gaza and lobbied London's Metropolitan Police late last year to block a Palestine march. His decision comes after Lord John Mann, the UK government's independent adviser on antisemitism, announced he would not attend the event, as did Germany's antisemitism czar Felix Klein and French pro-Israel writer Bernard Henri-Levy, who was set to be the keynote speaker. 'All over the political spectrum' "Our goal was to invite friends of Israel from all over the political spectrum," a spokesperson for the Israeli diaspora ministry told The Times of Israel. Furthering the 'far-right international': Likud joins the Patriots for Europe Read More » "The way to reach people with different views than yours is to meet with them and discuss your differences, not to shut them out." But as the furore grows and more figures drop out, even Israel's president Isaac Herzog, is expected to avoid the conference - although he had previously been slated to deliver the opening speech. The controversy comes as the Israeli government seeks to deepen its ties with far-right parties across Europe. After several far-right parties formed the Patriots for Europe bloc in the European parliament, Israel's ruling Likud party joined it as an observer member in February.
Sky News
11-02-2025
- Politics
- Sky News
King celebrates signing of landmark pact between Jewish and Muslim groups
The King says a landmark agreement designed to bring Jewish and Muslim communities closer together is "marvellous". He welcomed faith leaders to Buckingham Palace on Tuesday after the "Reconciliation Accords" were signed at Spencer House in London. The palace said the pact - also known as the Drumlanrig Accords - was aimed at ensuring Jewish and Muslim communities can navigate challenges together while fostering mutual respect and solidarity. The accords were agreed last month when representatives of 11 denominations from Judaism and Islam met at Drumlanrig Castle in Dumfries and Galloway to discuss the future of Jewish-Muslim relations. Among the faith leaders the King spoke with were Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis, Senior Imam Qari Asim, Rabbi Josh Levy and Chief Imam Dr Sayed Razawi. In a statement about the accords, Sir Ephraim said: "The Drumlanrig Accords represent a bold first step towards rebuilding a meaningful trust between Muslim and Jewish communities over the long term. "They do not gloss over our differences, they acknowledge them. "But they also send out a powerful message that in times of division, when it is far easier to retreat into fear and suspicion, we are prepared to take the more challenging path to reconciliation. We do so not because it is easy, but because it is necessary." Meanwhile on Tuesday, Charles and Camilla greeted representatives from a range of military branches they have connections with at separate receptions. The King hosted around 340 people, including members of Number 30 Commando - a unit proposed by James Bond creator Ian Fleming. And submariners from HMS Astute spoke with Camilla about how she sent tea and shortbread to their 135-strong crew last year. Warrant Officer Danny Manifold told reporters: "They were really well received on board."
Yahoo
26-01-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
The King's visit to Auschwitz gives us hope in dark times
We have cause as a society to bemoan the state of many of our institutions. There are failings everywhere we care to look: political failings, police failings, local authority failings – the list goes on. We could be forgiven for thinking nothing in this country works properly anymore. But there is one institution of which we can be justly proud. Other nations envy it and rightly so. Where politicians too often divide us, the monarchy unites us as a nation. The King has had vast experience over more than half a century of being an effective emollient, soothing troubled waters and healing wounded parts of our society. And that work is needed now more than ever. The monarchy remains an institution that undoubtedly works – and it is one of which we can all be proud. It is as needed now as it has been at any point in our history. Tomorrow, the King travels to Auschwitz to mark the 80th anniversary of the liberation of that place of unparalleled horror. The monarch's support for the Jewish faith shines out like a beacon in troubled times. The King attended the current Chief Rabbi's installation. He has commissioned paintings of Holocaust survivors to help preserve their memory. The King accommodated the Chief Rabbi overnight at Clarence House before his coronation, so Sir Ephraim Mirvis could attend to his religious observance. Needless to say, it isn't just the Jewish community who the King has supported for so long. He deeply admires the teachings of Islam, and has cultivated the most extraordinary respect and admiration from Middle Eastern leaders, and he has done so quietly and without any political agenda. He respects the Greek Orthodox faith so much he has stayed for a respite from the world in the remote monastery of Mount Athos. He arranged for Sikhs and Hindus to be important symbolic parts of his ancient coronation ceremony. And it isn't just faith groups who have benefited from his support. On the world stage he wowed audiences in France by delivering his speech in French. When he spoke German on his state visit there they were lost in admiration. When he travels to the Arabian peninsula, his decades cultivating personal relationships means he is feted as one of their most distinguished guests. But in the UK too, the work of the Prince's Trust (now the King's Trust) has changed the lives of more than a million disadvantaged young people over the past 40 years. The King's environmentalism and sustainability agenda, his ideals on architecture, his support for the military, traditional crafts and industries, and the arts have all made a real difference. In a disadvantaged part of Scotland, his support for the local community around Dumfries House has transformed the area and its economy for miles around. The King transcends politics. As he visits Auschwitz this week, the distressing human evil of the place will no doubt be felt very powerfully. But we just know he will do his duty. He refuses to allow any illness to get in the way. The service he exemplifies is not only rare, it is – especially with failing institutions all around us – more precious than ever. Small wonder his skills in bringing people together are in such demand. Sir Michael Ellis has served as attorney general for England and Wales. He was MP for Northampton North from 2010 to 2024 Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
