As I was gathering research to write about International Holocaust Remembrance Day on Jan. 27, a story about a swastika landed on the front page of J. The Jewish News of Northern California. It wasn’t a particularly good rendition—the photo was grainy and the angle odd—but I still felt a chill when I saw it.
A group of teenagers from Branham High School in San Jose, Calif., was sprawled across the school’s sports field in one massive Hakenkreuz, or “hooked cross” (the Nazis’ name for a swastika). At the bottom of the Instagram post (since removed) was a quote from the speech Adolf Hitler delivered to troops, heralding “the annihilation of the Jewish race in Europe.”
Eight young students who appeared to be about the age at which they would have been required to take Holocaust and genocide education in California were taking a lunchtime moment on their school’s lawn to show their support for Jewish genocide. Whether they realized it or not, they were talking about the murder of their neighbors—the children they grew up with, their teachers, the strangers down the street.
At the time, I had been looking for information to support my argument that Holocaust education was failing to meet its goals. The memorials held twice a year across the world to honor victims of the Shoah should have been enough over the decades to educate future generations about the pitfalls of Jew-hatred. With the majority of U.S. states and Canadian provinces now offering some level of Holocaust-related education in classrooms, that message would have seemed destined to make its mark. Yet it obviously has not.
Holocaust education has failed because it cannot keep up with a changing world.
That seems almost offensive to write: A memorial for the victims of the world’s worst genocide shouldn’t have to change its vernacular to inspire compassion and understanding when it comes to humanity’s worst mistakes.
But yes, we are asking new generations of faith to learn from and absorb history they don’t relate to. We’re asking children and young adults who have grown up with smartphones, social media and instant messaging to examine 80-year-old events and a world that looks nothing like their own—and, in many cases, a culture that isn’t their own.
There have been countless attempts over the years to determine why Holocaust education continues to miss the mark. Holocaust illiteracy isn’t just a North American problem; it’s a global phenomenon. A survey by the Claims Conference in 2023 found that 25% of Millennials in France had not heard of, or were unsure they had ever heard of, the Holocaust.
Let’s put that in perspective: One-quarter of voters age 29 to 44 remain uninformed about the role that antisemitism, hate and bigotry played in the deportation and death of more than 70,000 residents from their neighborhoods and cities. Furthermore, in the eight countries surveyed (the United States, Canada, France, Germany, Austria, Poland and Hungary), 31% of all respondents (41% of Millennials) weren’t aware that 6 million Jews had been murdered during the Holocaust. Yet all of these countries mandate some sort of education about the history and impact of the Shoah.
The most telling statistics about the general public’s view of Holocaust education, however, came from U.S. surveys. An overwhelming number of American respondents (70%) acknowledged that they feel people care less about the Holocaust than they used to. Another earlier U.S. survey found that 41% of Millennials felt that people talk too much about the Holocaust. These statistics send a worrisome message: For many young Americans who take this compulsory education, there’s a disconnect between the history they are learning about and the dangers of hate rhetoric in their own communities.
What is needed to bridge this gap?
Dara Solomon, CEO of the Toronto Holocaust Museum in Ontario, Canada, suggests that inspiring empathy—the human response that makes it possible for one to show compassion toward another—is crucial to changing mindsets.
“By introducing young minds to [Holocaust] survivors ... we build connections, give students a chance to find shared experiences and construct a generation that embraces cultural diversity,” Solomon wrote in a 2024 commentary on the eve of Yom Hashoah. Add to that one-on-one dialogue with actual Holocaust survivors that can create a shared appreciation of what a victim of antisemitism went through, which not only can illuminate but also build mutual trust between generations.
Still, as the number of Holocaust survivors diminishes, that valuable connection and the immediacy of its message are going to be lost soon. That’s why a new program by the Shoah Foundation, which now allows visitors to pose questions to holographic likenesses of survivors that can endure far into the future, provides a partial answer to that problem.
Still, the question remains: How can we translate the Shoah’s testimonies into actionable, practical lessons for the 21st century?
We can do so by reframing how we talk about the Holocaust in relation to the events of today. Since the Hamas-led terrorist attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, more than 16,000 incidents of antisemitism have been reported in North America alone, making Jews the highest targeted group in the United States and Canada. A significant number of these incidents included physical attacks against Jews and Jewish communal institutions. If the aim is to make students aware of the spiralling effects of hate and cultural prejudice, then shouldn’t current events that take place at home be part of the mandated curriculum, too?
An increasing number of states and provinces now say that yes, they should be studied, and so are broadening their mandates to include lessons about contemporary antisemitism. Wisconsin, Georgia and British Columbia have upgraded their curricula to reflect this need. Ontario, Canada, has begun integrating lessons that teach kids the value of empathy and inclusiveness. In 2021, Texas changed the name of its Holocaust advisory commission to include mention of “antisemitism” in its title.
Classroom discussions, though, aren’t enough. Field trips, one-to-one discussions with witnesses, medical personnel and aid groups who responded during an attack can drive home the immediacy of the Holocaust’s message. Jewish institutions like the Tree of Life*Or L’Simcha Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pa., and the Chabad Center in Poway, Calif.—both sites of antisemitic shootings in houses of worship—are making their resources available to teach the public about the impact of prejudice and xenophobia on communities. Museums are also creating exhibits that talk about the association between contemporary antisemitism and the events surrounding the Holocaust.
If society at large—and Jewish communities, especially—want kids to appreciate and learn from history, then we must not be afraid to talk about the present in context to those lessons.
Holocaust education is as relevant today as it was at its inception in the 1970s, when its teachers (often survivors themselves) found ways to embed discussions about current-day bigotry to make it more relevant to listeners. Their efforts gave rise to a young generation of “upstanders” who weren’t afraid to speak out against the hate speech and cultural prejudice they witnessed in their communities. By finding new ways to link Holocaust education to what we see today, we can do so as well.
