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What a Long, Strange, Systematic Genocide of Millions It's Been

Buzzsaw London Correspondent, Zachary Howard, digs into the British legal system to cover the trial of accused Holocaust denier, David Irving.

By Zachary N. Howard

There are, of course varying accounts, depending on who you ask, of how many people were killed in the Holocaust. I've heard anything from four million to twelve million Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and Marxists, and apparently there were a few people injured in that whole "World War" bit, as well. I don't mean to belittle these deaths, for indeed no matter how accurate a figure one gives you, it's the message and crusade that caused the Holocaust that truly should be scrutinized, for prevention's sake.

So sayeth Penguin Books, world-renowned publisher of books with the trademark orange spine, who recently released Deborah Lipstadt's book, Denying the Holocaust. The book encompasses multiple accounts of scholars, historians, Aryans, and glue-sniffers who somehow believe that the Holocaust was some tabloid trash story that everyone cashed in on. Chief among them is easily-bruised David Irving, a mild-mannered yet paranoid gentleman who is now suing Penguin and Lipstadt for libel in British high court.

The case opened on 10 January in the city of London. While I waited for the court to open after its lunch recess on the second day, a friendly tweed-clad chap filled me in on the rules of British court proceedings. The first thing he said was that I should forget all I had seen in the Simpson case of "my" United States. This alone almost broke my spirit, but I remained steadfast and managed to make it inside the courtroom.

Jeeves, as I shall call the affable bloke, explained to me that the folks with wigs taped to their normal hair are barristers, which is like a lawyer with a soul. They've got so much soul, Jeeves explained to me, because they are all employed by the government and do not skim from the top of the monies awarded in cases such as these. I also learned that Mr. Irving would be representing himself. Three of the court's walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with reams of paper, which I learned was the evidence put before the court, all of which had to be read by the judge and barristers before the case could start.

I could hardly sit still when we were all told to rise. The court reconvened with Mr. Irving on the witness stand defending himself against his own words. The first thing I noticed: Nobody moves. There's no grandstanding, no soap boxes, no getting up in the jury's face screaming "Who's to blame for this conflagration of justice?!" Just a bunch of calm, collected, and drippingly polite men in wigs attempting casually to eviscerate each other.

Semantics played a large part, of course. Beyond simple politeness and proper protocol, it seemed like everyone was bowing to each other, or apologizing (Imagine! A lawyer apologizing to the man he's trying to condemn!), or standing up when they addressed each other. Jeeves commented to me that if I should ever find myself in an English court, I should only get nervous when someone acts politely towards me.

The meat of Irving's complaint was this: Here's this book full of obvious psychos and malcontents, and Penguin has the nerve to shovel him in there like he was one of them. In Lipstadt's book, Irving is described as a "Hitler partisan" who has "twisted history". Irving insists, however, that he has no league with Hitler OR Twisted Sister. His theory: Several hundred thousand Jews were killed without Hitler's knowledge or orders by German military personnel who were in charge of transporting them out of the country. Auschwitz, in Mr. Irving's understanding, was "a halfway house" where Jews were "well-fed" and "cared for." There were no active gas chambers, he says, and the Jews were all destined for a peaceful relocation on the island of Madagascar (which, he added, was beautiful in the 1940's).

Now, before we all laugh at Mr. Irving, because he is a rather silly man, let me say this about him: He put together a damn believable story. One would have to be crazy to believe it, but assume for a second that you had no idea what the Holocaust was. When I first heard the word and asked my mom about it, I was too young for her to give a detailed account. She told me "Hitler told a bunch of people that he was going to give them a shower, and he would bring them into a big building and gas them." Now, at the time, I found the image of a bunch of people being mercilessly farted upon quite amusing, and therefore, in its own way, believable. However, though I know what she said to me is false, I can't say my mother was lying to me. She was simply giving me a story I could believe. Such can definitely be said about Mr. Irving. Irving cites mainly a transcript of a recorded conversation between Hitler, Himmler, and Goebbels, as well as wire messages between the three. He accuses the defense of ignoring evidence that is contrary to their beliefs of the Holocaust. One passage he demonstrated was a telegram from Hitler to Goebbels concerning a transport of Jews from Berlin. The last line reads "No liquidation." Mr. Irving exclaimed, "You see, he didn't want liquidation!" The barrister calmly replied that if this was the case, then it should have gone without saying. Mr. Irving, in the end, is guilty of the same oversights he accuses the rest of the world of committing.

We live in an increasingly cynical world. I'll admit that I may personally have something to do with that. However, cynicism--and its bastard lovechild, sarcasm--are truly expressions of helplessness in a world gone completely fucking insane. Sarcasm for me is used to describe situations and beliefs that I DON'T want, rather than being literal. For example:

Joe: Hey, Zack, do you want to go see that new Will Smith movie?

Zack: Why, sure! Then let's drink bleach and ammonia and do the running man until we burst!

You see, there, my image of exploding ravers is a joke. I equate the image's disturbing qualities with those contained in "Wild Wild West".

In the case of Mr. Irving, we have a cynic who cannot discern between reality and his own farcical version of history. This is an improper use of cynicism and sarcasm, as you can see in this example:

Zack: Hey, Mr. Irving, would you like to go drink bleach and ammonia and do the running man?

Mr. Irving: Only three hundred thousand people were killed, and it wasn't Hitler's fault.

Mr. Irving, with his sarcasm, has crossed the line from cartoonishly amusing and impossible to hurtful and deceitful. Perhaps when Mr. Irving reaches his death in a slow and remarkably excruciating manner, his existence and its end will be denied with the same hokey fervor with which he desecrates the history of the human spirit.

Zachary Howard is a junior English major at Ithaca College. He is spending the semester in London.