Dr. Barbara Rylko-Bauer is a medical anthropologist from Michigan State University who focuses on healthcare inequality, political violence and the Holocaust. She presented at the Florida Holocaust Museum in early March, discussing her newest book A Polish Doctor in the Nazi Camps. The book — which focuses on her mother's story of survival during WWII — has been reviewed as important, accessible and utterly relatable. We spoke with her regarding her life, her mother's story and her work in anthropology and memory.
It's been almost 80 years since the Holocaust and WWII, yet thankfully the memory is kept alive through history and research like yours. If there is one thing everyone should know about the Holocaust, what do you think it is?
It is important to remember not only what happened and who it happened to, but also to know how it happened. The Holocaust did not start with the killing of the Jews. It started with words; words that were grounded in stereotypes, extremism and racist ideology. It began with overt anti-Semitism, which expanded into the labeling of an entire group of people — the Jews — as both inferior and as a threat, biologically and socially, to the collective German nation — and thus, deemed less worthy or even unworthy of life. And from this dehumanizing rhetoric evolved brutal policies and regulations that stripped the Jews of any social, civil and human rights. And led ultimately to the Final Solution — to the murder of people simply because of who they were.
We still have not learned the lessons of World War II and the Holocaust. This kind of deliberate dehumanization and categorizing of a group of people has been a well-recognized and necessary first step in every single case of genocide and ethnic cleansing since World War II.
History offers us a window not only onto the past, but also into the future. So, we need to be concerned when we hear and see some elements in our society labeling entire groups of people living in our country in negative, stereotyping, and dehumanizing ways. And to challenge such words and the policies and actions that often accompany them.
I understand that your mother was close to 90 when you first began your research for the book, A Polish Doctor in the Nazi Camps. How did you broach the idea to her and what was her response? Was she reluctant to revisit that period of her life? Were there topics and details she was hesitant or even refused to discuss? Or do you think, being her daughter, that you were able to interview her with more access than someone else could?
That’s a great question and I’ll answer the last part first. I do not think that my mother would have been willing to be interviewed by someone else. Even with me, when I first broached the idea of discussing her past, she was very reluctant. She felt that this was “old history. So much has already been written about all this.” And she wasn’t even sure her story was worth telling. She was also a very private person. As her daughter, I certainly had better access. At the same time, I realize that I was not as objective as a stranger might have been. So, there were both benefits and drawbacks because of our intimate family relationship.
I began the project by sitting down with my 89-year old mother at my dining room table and looking through a box of old photographs from her years in postwar Germany. She felt comfortable talking about that time period — perhaps in part because that was after the horrors of war and imprisonment. It was during this time that she met her husband and my father (they married in 1947) and eventually where I was born. As we looked at these old photographs, she would make comments, tell short anecdotes and this began to open up parts of her memory that she had put under lock and key.
A lot of our interactions were more like conversations than formal interviews, although later in the project I did create specific lists of follow-up questions. My mother had a remarkable memory. But there were many times when she became frustrated because she could not remember the details that I was eager to hear. I also wondered if sometimes the response, “I can’t remember,” was her way of resisting memories that she knew would be painful. There was even a time when my mother had trouble sleeping because of our discussions — especially about her experiences in the concentration camps. I agonized about my responsibility towards her and stopped formal discussions about her past. And yet, during this fallow period, she would bring up aspects of the past and clearly wanted to talk, but on her own terms.
Girija Sankar reviewed your book, writing, "It’s nice, then, to find a work of nonfiction that takes on a subject matter as grim as the Nazi concentration camps and turns it into an utterly relatable story..." Utterly relatable. I love that. What attention did you have to give to transform this book and the content into something that could be consumed and appreciated by readers of different levels? What is your ultimate goal for the book?
I am especially pleased when people say that they find the book readable, accessible, that they can relate to the story. From the start, I was determined to make it a book that could be read by a wide audience. My goal was to tell a very interesting story of an ordinary woman who lived in extraordinary times, and through this story personalize history.
I want to point out, however, that the book is not just about World War II and the Holocaust. As the subtitle indicates, these are My Mother’s Memories of Imprisonment, Immigration, and a Life Remade. So, it is also about the aftermath of these historic events, about rebuilding a new life, first as a refugee and displaced person in Germany and later as an immigrant in the U.S. This is covered in the third part of the book, titled “Surviving Survival.” Refugees, migrants, and immigrants have always had to struggle to make a new life in this country and many deal with challenges similar to the ones that my parents and other post-war immigrants faced.
I am an anthropologist by training and know how to write for an academic audience. But I wanted to share this story and its historical context not only with my colleagues, but also with people like those my mother came into contact in her daily life: the cashier at the grocery store, the bank teller, her pastor, the neighbors in her apartment complex, and later, the nurses and aides who cared for her in the last couple years of her life. So, I made a conscious effort to write in a straightforward, engaging style and I turned to others for comments and advice on how best to achieve this goal.
I also wanted to present my mother as she saw herself — not as a victim or heroic or remarkable. Although she was, at varying times, all these things. And to not let the dramatic events of World War II define the entire story. For while this history “branded” her and set limits on her subsequent life, it did not thoroughly determine it. Finally, I wanted to structure the book around my mother’s voice, which I did by creating composite quotes from different versions of the same account. And by interweaving her narrative with the historical context and my own journey through this past.
Your spoke at the Florida Holocaust Museum in early March during its 25th anniversary. How was it? How do you feel about the work being done at the FHM and other institutes that focus on the Holocaust?
Since this book is about a Polish Catholic’s experiences of World War II, I find it especially meaningful when I can speak in settings directly related or linked somehow with the Holocaust. And I have been fortunate to have several opportunities to do so, the event at the Florida Holocaust Museum being the most recent. What made this even more significant, was the fact that one of the current exhibits at the Museum is about the Holocaust experiences of a young Polish-Jewish woman, Sala Garncarz, and all the correspondence that she managed to save during her five years working in various Nazi forced labor camps.
Among the letters Sala received were those from her two sisters, who were inmates in the Jewish slave labor camp where my mother was sent to work as a prisoner-doctor — located in the German city of Neusalz. So, it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that my mother knew or at least treated one or both of Sala’s sisters. This was such an amazing coincidence.
I think that institutions, such as museums, have a very important role to play in informing the public about the past, archiving and protecting historical artifacts and documents, conducting research, and demonstrating how past history can inform our present. Museums such as the one in St. Petersburg or the one in Washington, DC, do an excellent job of fulfilling these roles with regard to the Holocaust.
Your work in anthropology— including subjects such as healthcare inequality, the Holocaust, political violence — can lead to dark, heavy subject matter. Are there times when it all feels like too much? To counter, what is something positive you've learned in your work that has stayed with you and motivates you to continue your studies? What has been your greatest accomplishment during your career?
Focusing on difficult subjects related to injustice, suffering, inequality, war and violence can be hard and it should be hard. And yes, sometimes it feels like too much and then I take a break and work on something else that has nothing to do with history, research or writing. What inspires me as I’m reading and working on such topics, are the people who are impacted by these injustices. How they deal with the obstacles or tragedies or traumas they face, how they resist injustice, how they are able to retain a sense of hope and envision a better future. They don’t always succeed, they don’t always survive, but they nevertheless embody the essence of the human spirit.
Anthropology has taught me to appreciate the critical role that larger social and structural forces play in shaping the opportunities that people do or do not have to meet their full potential and to live a decent life of dignity. I feel privileged to have been given the tools and knowledge to be able to research and write about such topics and thus, hopefully, increase public awareness of social suffering and injustice. Awareness is a first and necessary step toward social change.
The Holocaust is popularly considered a Jewish tragedy, yet your book reveals important and often over-looked aspects of the Polish condition during the war. I understand your mother was Polish and Catholic. How did her ethnic and religious denomination affect her experiences during WWII? What aspects of the gentile experience of WWII and the Holocaust did you focus on in your book? Was there anything you learned that surprised you?
Since my mother was a Polish Catholic, the book largely reflects that experience of World War II, its aftermath and immigration. And this is a lesser known history. The term, Holocaust, refers to the systematic persecution and murder of the Jews of Europe. However, other groups were also persecuted by the Nazi regime: Roma and Sinti (the preferred terms for Gypsies), homosexuals, people with mental and physical disabilities, and those of Slavic origins, including the Poles, many of whom ended up in forced labor camps and concentration camps.
My mother’s sister, for example, was sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau because of her resistance activities. And my mother was imprisoned in seven different concentration camps and slave labor camps. I used elements of my mother’s story to elaborate on the extensive Polish underground resistance movement, on the demoralizing impact of the brutal Nazi occupation on Polish society, on the extensive deportation of Polish citizens to forced labor camps in Germany, and to inform the readers about Nazi concentration camps that are less well known — Ravensbrück, Gross-Rosen, and Flossenbürg.
This is a very complicated and multi-faceted history, characterized by great heroism, sacrifice, resistance, and resilience, but also elements of complicity, indifference and betrayal. But above all else it is a history of tragedy, suffering, and loss, including the loss of Poland’s numerous Jewish communities. As historian Michael Steinlauf notes, “the Jewish connection to Poland is as old as Polish history,” with the earliest Jewish settlements dating back to the late 12th century.
People often ask what factors helped my mother to survive. My answer always begins with, “she was not Jewish.” My mother was born, trained, and worked as a physician in the Polish city of Lodz. All of that city’s Jewish residents — and before the war it was the second largest Jewish community in Poland — were either killed outright, deported or forced into the Lodz Ghetto, which was established in 1940. Very few survived the ghetto — either dying from hunger, exhaustion and disease, or being sent to the death camps of Auschwitz and Chelmno. If my mother had been Jewish, the likelihood of her surviving at numerous points during the Nazi occupation of Poland would have been slim. The other factors that played a role included many instances of good luck, her medical experience (and there are numerous examples in the book of how that helped her), and finally, her resilient spirit.
The fact that my mother was from Lodz and the unique circumstances of her imprisonment — as a prisoner-doctor in Jewish slave labor camps, led me to incorporate aspects of the Jewish experience of the Holocaust in the book. In fact, one of the chapters is titled, “The Shadow of the Ghetto.” From the start, I saw my mother’s story as a chance to link these two catastrophes — the brutal Nazi occupation of Poland and the extermination of the Jews (executed by the Nazis mostly on Polish territory) — while respecting their uniqueness.
What's next? A Polish Doctor in the Nazi Camps has seen great success since its release in 2014 due to the stellar content, research, and accessibility. Do you have plans for more books/works of this nature?
Thank you for your kind words about the book. A significant part of my time since the book came out has been spent in giving talks, such as the one I presented at the Florida Holocaust Museum. This is yet another way of sharing the story, and the history that frames it, with a wide audience.
I have to admit that I am not finished with this history — World War II and the Holocaust continue to fascinate me and present me with challenging questions that I want to explore. So, whatever comes next will undoubtedly deal with some aspect of this time period. One topic that I definitely want to explore further is the role that prisoner-doctors played in the Nazi camps. Who knows where that will lead?