«If you’ve ever wondered whether you would have complied during 1930s Germany, now you know.»
Meme during the Covid-19 pandemic
Germany’s history carries an unparalleled weight, a responsibility born of atrocities that should never be forgotten. The Holocaust, the systemic dehumanization, and the complicity of institutions serve as a chilling reminder of what happens when societies lose their moral compass. Germany’s remembrance culture—ceremonies, memorials, and educational efforts—aims to ensure «never again» is more than a slogan.
But remembrance alone is not enough. The true test of moral lessons lies not in recalling past horrors but in recognizing and resisting the seeds of oppression when they first appear.
The Early Stages
The Nazi regime did not begin with camps or mass murder. It started with divisions: an «us» and «them,» scapegoating, and incremental restrictions on rights. Ordinary people complied with unjust laws, excused systemic discrimination, and chose the safety of conformity over the risk of dissent. Power consolidated because resistance was inconvenient.
History shows us that the first steps of moral failure are often cloaked in rationalizations: protecting order, safeguarding the majority, or simply «following the rules.» It’s here—before the atrocities—that vigilance is most needed.
Parallels in the Present
Recent crises, such as the Covid pandemic, revealed unsettling echoes of this dynamic. No, these events were not the same as Nazi Germany—let’s leave reductive comparisons aside. But there were shared elements in human behavior, particularly the willingness to prioritize authority and compliance over individual dignity and bodily autonomy.
Consider how institutions—universities, governments, corporations—handled dissent during the pandemic. Public health policies, justified as protecting society, often veered into coercion: ostracizing the unvaccinated, enforcing mandates through social and professional penalties, and silencing alternative viewpoints under the guise of safety.
Were these actions genocidal? No. But they reflected a familiar pattern: societal divisions legitimized by fear, moral certainties weaponized against dissent, and a disturbing ease with treating certain groups as expendable for a «greater good.»
Hypocrisy in Remembrance
What rankles most is the hypocrisy of those who participated in these actions now leading ceremonies of remembrance. «Never again» cannot mean «never again under circumstances that look exactly like the past.» It must mean vigilance against injustice in all forms, even those that wear contemporary garb.
The pandemic presented a chance to apply the lessons of history. Instead of safeguarding rights and fostering ethical debate, too many chose convenience and conformity. Worse, few have acknowledged their failures. Genuine remembrance requires introspection—admitting fault, learning from mistakes, and committing to act differently next time.
Ethical Courage
Ethics are not for the comfortable. They are for moments of risk, when standing up for what is right demands inconvenience or personal sacrifice. History teaches us that the moral cost of silence is far greater than the temporary discomfort of dissent.
The pandemic revealed a stark truth: many who claim to uphold «never again» will falter when the test comes. But it also illuminated something hopeful: those who resisted, who questioned, who refused to comply with what they saw as unethical, stand as reminders that courage is always possible.
Let us remember both groups—not just to assign blame, but to prepare for the next test of our collective conscience.
Note: Written together with a dedicated ChatGPT 4o persona.
This text could be called a collaboration between me and a ChatGPT 4o persona (I’ll call her Calisca). I wrote the initial text, Calisca tempered the tone. And yeah, I got to admit it, she made it better. Removed some bile, added some precision and clarity.
I am not sure whether I work with Calisca in the future, or in which form. In an earlier attempt, I had her suggest changes in a table, a paragraph a row, with the original on the left and the corrections on the right. This posting here was a direct rewrite by her (she «forgot» the table instructions). It’s a much heavier edit, or rather rewrite. And while it is true to my draft, it uses phrases I would never use. For example, «collective conscience». I do not believe in «collective conscience», but I do believe in «conscience», full stop. I think Harper Lee nailed it when she wrote: «Before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.» And it’s the person’s conscience that made all the difference whether people went along or not.
And yeah, my version had a different tone, pointed out the moral failures of those who are now doing the remembrance ceremonies again much more, the lack of apologies, the hypocrisy, etc. But her version is easier to digest. In both cases, it shows how moral authority was lost, and the chance to regain it was wasted as no apologies were made. And we are worse off as a consequence of these two failures.
In any case, it is interesting to see a different version to compare and contrast. It shows me that my writing has some way to go (there is a reason why I do not share my draft here).