Trauma
A Forgotten History of Polish People’s Forgiveness After Auschwitz
This is a guest blog post from Edward Reid, who runs the “Polish History” site on Facebook. The essay, copied in full here with Mr. Reid’s permission, shows the forgiving nature of the Polish people after Rudolf Höss brutalized so many in Auschwitz.
Facebook page – April 16, 2025
The essay is as follows:
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In 1947, Rudolf Höss, commandant of German KL Auschwitz in the years 1940-1943, was sentenced to death by the Supreme National Tribunal in Poland. Two weeks later, on 16 April, he was hanged next to the crematorium of the former concentration camp.
Rudolf Höss did not fear death. What he feared was torture, which he believed was inevitable at the hands of his Polish captors. After all, Auschwitz had been located in German-occupied Poland, and it was the Polish people who had suffered so terribly under his command.
What he encountered instead left him stunned.
He was not met with hatred or violence, but with decency and restraint. “I have to confess that I never would have expected to be treated so decently and so kindly in a Polish prison,” he later wrote. That unexpected mercy opened something within him. Several of the Polish guards, themselves former prisoners of Auschwitz, quietly showed him the tattoos burned into their arms. Rather than seek revenge, they treated him with dignity.
It was an act that brought him shame. If those he had helped torment could offer him humanity, then perhaps, he began to wonder, God might offer him mercy as well. Apathy gave way to guilt. Recognition replaced denial. He began to grasp the weight of what he had done.
For the first time, his soul responded to a flicker of love. The ideology he had once followed so blindly had taught him that Poles were inferior, little more than cattle. But now, through their compassion, he saw clearly the humanity of those he had dehumanized. And in that realization, he began to understand the true gravity of his crimes.“In the solitude of my prison cell, I have come to the bitter recognition that I have sinned gravely against humanity,” he wrote. “I caused unspeakable suffering for the Polish people in particular. I am to pay for this with my life. May the Lord God forgive one day what I have done. I ask the Polish people for forgiveness.”
By all accounts, his repentance appeared genuine. On April 4, 1947, which was Good Friday that year, Höss asked to make a confession. The prison guards struggled to find a priest who spoke fluent German. That is when Höss remembered Father Władysław Lohn, a Jesuit he had once saved from execution. The guards located him in Łagiewniki, Poland, where he was then serving as chaplain at the Shrine of Divine Mercy. Father Lohn heard his confession on the Thursday of Easter week. The next day, he gave him Holy Communion and Viaticum.
Witnesses said that as Höss knelt in his prison cell, he appeared like a small boy.
The man who had once been trained to suppress all weakness now wept openly.
Five days later, on April 16, 1947, as the noose was placed around his neck at Auschwitz, Father Tadeusz Zaremba stood beside him and recited the prayers for the dying.
Whether or not he deserved forgiveness is something each person must decide for themselves. But the crimes committed against the Polish people must never be forgotten.
And neither should the quiet strength of those who, even in the face of unimaginable suffering, chose mercy. This is also why the Polish people, despite their profound heroism and the scale of their suffering were left behind in the telling of history. They did not turn their pain into politics or profit. They did not build monuments to themselves and demand all the world bow to their wounds. They endured in silence behind the Iron Curtain. Many showed mercy when they had every right to hate. And in doing so, they were forgotten by a world that rewards those who shout the loudest, not those who suffer with dignity.
But the truth remains. It was not only the victims who showed humanity – it was the forgotten Polish guards, the priests, the villagers, the mothers, the resistance fighters. They gave the world a quiet, sacred kind of courage.
The kind that history has yet to fully honor…
Can Murderers Be Forgiven?
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I recently watched a podcast video in which a prominent world figure, currently involved in inter-country conflict, was asked about the possibility of forgiving the other nation’s leader. The world leader then asked this rhetorical question in response to the host: “Can murderers be forgiven?” It was obvious by his anger that the world leader was saying, “No.” He did not elaborate, which was the end of that particular part of the discussion.
It was apparent that the host saw the possibility of forgiveness between the two leaders as one path to peace. Yet, if the leader sees the other as a murderer, then it follows that he is shutting the door on this possibility.
The question by the host was a serious one that might open the door, even a little, to peace. Can murderers be forgiven? If we look at the history of forgiveness, we see that the answer is a definite “yes” because those who are “murderers” can be and have been forgiven by others in the past. Here are two examples:
Marietta Jaeger lost her daughter Suzy to a kidnapping and murder when her family was on vacation (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OFMx9kIems). At first, she said that she was so angry that she could have killed him and with a big smile on her face. Yet, as the weeks dragged on, she saw the stress and anger tearing her family apart. It was then that she decided to forgive the murderer, even though she had no idea who this was. She wished the person well and prayed for the person’s well-being. When the murderer called Marietta on the first anniversary of his kidnapping Suzy, Marietta expressed concern for him. Her kindness so took him aback that he stayed on the phone for over an hour, sufficient time for the law enforcement officials to trace the call, find, and arrest him.
The second example is by Eva Mozes Kor, who forgave “Dr.” Mengele for his abhorrent medical experiments on the twins of Auschwitz during World War II (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdgPAetNY5U). Because of such unethical practices by Mengele, Eva’s twin sister, Miriam, passed away prematurely from kidney failure. Despite some of Eva’s colleagues disapproving of her decision, she forgave Mengele and the Nazis “in my name only” as a way to be free of the resentment that could have been with her for the rest of her life.
In neither case did Marietta nor Eva abandon the quest for justice. Forgiveness and justice existed side-by-side. By this I mean that Marietta certainly would not want the one who murdered Suzy to be on the streets to take the lives of others. Eva was forgiving once she was free from concentration camp and the Nazis were utterly defeated.
Can murderers be forgiven? Yes, and they have. If the leader, who used this question as a rhetorical retort to the podcast host, is open to justice and forgiveness together in the future, as Marietta and Eva have shown is possible, might his fellow citizens and he be able to take a first step of peace in his region of the world? This is no rhetorical question, but one that might in the future save lives. I say this because negotiations with hatred in the heart are less likely to lead to satisfying and stable outcomes than when the heart is at peace and offers that peace to the other.
Helping Abused Adolescents, Who Are in Corrections, to Forgive
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Drs. Wongeun Ji and Robert Enright this month had a research study published in the Journal of Family Trauma, Child Custody, and Child Development. The study highlights the importance of being aware of the traumas suffered by these young people prior to their crimes, arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. It also highlights the effectiveness of a forgiveness program in reversing the negative effects of such trauma.
This study examined the effectiveness of a forgiveness education program for incarcerated female adolescents in South Korea who suffered from attachment disorders, adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), and the psychological compromise of anger, anxiety, and depression. A total of 27 female offenders were randomly assigned to a forgiveness treatment or the standard programs offered at this particular institution. Both groups first were screened to be sure that each participant was high on the “adverse childhood experiences.” Each participant also was screened to be sure that she had significant psychological challenges, such as heightened anger and anxiety. In the end, there were 10 participants in the forgiveness experimental group and eight in the control group because some dropped out or did not want to fill out the post-test questionnaires. The forgiveness program lasted for four weeks, with the participants meeting as a group daily for five days each week, except for the final week in which three days were allotted for the program. They met for about 50 minutes for each forgiveness class, which focused on what forgiveness is and is not and the practice of kindness, respect, generosity, and love toward those who act unjustly. The instruction focused on story characters and people (through video reports) who have struggled to forgive. Group discussion followed the presentation of the stories or videos. Participants were encouraged to reflect on their family trauma, but to protect each person’s privacy, the participants were asked not to verbally share those family traumas within the group because this was an educational program, not a psychotherapy program.
When compared to the control group, the participants in the forgiveness treatment group demonstrated more decreases in anxiety and anger and increases in forgiveness and mother attachment. The study also discussed how staff members could serve as substitute attachment figures and promote better attachment outcomes. The results highlight the need for forgiveness programs in corrections because they allow the participants to heal from past traumas that may be contributing to the acting out of their frustrations onto other people.
It is unfortunate that too many correctional facilities do not yet see the strong utility of first giving forgiveness interventions to those imprisoned so that they can reduce anger and anxiety and, therefore, be more open to traditional rehabilitation approaches. After all, the control group had the usual corrections programs and they were not effective. The same kind of ineffective outcome with the usual corrections program occurred in the study with men in a maximum-security correctional context (Yu, L., Gambaro, M., Song, J., Teslik, M., Song, M., Komoski, M.C., Wollner, B., & Enright, R.D. [2021]. Forgiveness therapy in a maximum-security correctional institution: A randomized clinical trial. Clinical Psychology and Psychotherapy.) In other words, in two research studies to date, the hand-picked approaches by those in authority within the institutions created programs that, by themselves, do not work. In contrast, in each of these two studies, the forgiveness program was successful in enhancing psychological well-being.
The full article describing the above study in South Korea can be read here on the online version of the Journal of Family Trauma, Child Custody, and Child Development.
The reference to that work in South Korea is:
Ji, W. & Enright, R.D. (2024). Forgiveness in juvenile corrections: An exploratory study on Korean female youth offenders. Journal of Family Trauma, Child Custody, and Child Development. https://doi.org/10.1080/26904586.2024.2436967
Finding Meaning As We Suffer
In recent months, the theme of suffering and finding meaning in that suffering has emerged more and more because of current events in the world, including the conflicts in Ukraine, in Israel and Gaza, and in Nigeria as examples. To reflect on the importance of finding meaning in suffering, we are reposting an essay first published here at the International Forgiveness Institute on October 15, 2013:
Let us start with the prophetic words of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, as he mourns the passing of Lady Macbeth in Act 5, Scene 5:
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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
There is no meaning in life and therefore there is no meaning in suffering. To live and to suffer are meaningless. Yet, experience tells us that this kind of thinking is a dangerous illusion. Did Martin Luther King, Jr. have no meaning when he wrote his Letter from the Birmingham jail? Did Maximilian Kolbe see no meaning in life when he asked the Nazis to let him take the place of a condemned man who had a family? Whether one’s beliefs are in God or in random variations generated by mutations, we are either made for or have evolved toward finding meaning in our life. The skeptic would say that my point is a happy illusion: Yes, we need to believe this, but we do so just to stay alive; it is adaptive to think fairytale thoughts.
Yet, what else in nature can you identify that is so very important and at the same time is an illusion? I can think of nothing. If finding and having meaning is tied to our well-being, then there must be something to it. The psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, who survived Auschwitz (which Maximilian Kolbe chose not to survive for a higher good of protecting another person), observed this: Only those who survived Auschwitz found meaning in the profound suffering endured there. Those who found meaninglessness died. Finding meaning in this case was tied to positive, concrete outcomes. There was a need (to find meaning) that was fulfilled (surviving and even thriving). Can you think of any other real need that is not tied to something real that can fulfill it? If not, then it seems reasonable to say that we have real needs with real fulfillments and finding meaning and achieving the state of thriving are concretely, really linked together without illusion.
When we are treated deeply unjustly by others, we suffer. If we have come, through wisdom, to know the meaning of life, then we will find meaning in our suffering. If we find meaning in both life and suffering, we have the foundation to forgive well and to survive well the cruelty against us.
Sound and fury, signifying nothing? Please be careful in so concluding.
Can and Should Anyone Ever Forgive Those Who Perpetrate Genocide?
I have been studying forgiveness for the past 36 years and this questions keeps coming up. To me, this means that it is a vital question as well as one filled with emotion for those who ask. Given that we have worked in contentious world zones now for two decades, I have learned that the answer is important and can be contentious.
So, here are my views:
Because forgiveness is a moral virtue, as are justice, patience, kindness, and love, it should be seen as similar to all other moral virtues. Is there ever a case that a person would say to another, “You must not ever be fair or just in situation X for this reason…….”? This likely would never seem correct to anyone because we all have the freedom of our will to be fair whenever we want to enact justice. To prevent a person who is intent on fairness would seem unfair.
I think it is the same with regard to forgiveness under any circumstance. If the potential-forgiver has thought about the situation, determines it was unfair, and willingly chooses to forgive, then it is that person’s free will choice to do so.
Yes, others may look on with disgust or confusion because of another person’s decision to forgive, especially in the grave issue of genocide, but again, we have to fall back onto the quality of forgiveness, what it is in its essence: Forgiveness is the free will decision to be good to those who have not been good to the forgiver. In doing so, the forgiver never distorts the injustice by saying, “It’s ok what happened.” No. What happened was wrong, is wrong, and always will be wrong. Forgiveness now is a response to the other person or persons who perpetrated this wrongdoing. The potential-forgiver can and should fight for justice even when forgiving. Forgiveness should not cancel this quest for fairness and safety. In fact, forgiving may help a person to reduce hatred which can consume one’s energy and well-being. The forgiving, there, might free the unjustly-treated person to strive with more vigor for fairness.
In the final analysis, some people do decide to forgive those who perpetrated genocide. This is the free-will decision of the person and if this is done rationally then it is good because the appropriation of true moral virtues in a rational way is good by definition. When there is a philosophical distortion of forgiveness, such as engaging in the vice of cowardliness in which the false-forgiveness allows the unjust and powerful others to dominate people, then this is not forgiveness at all. It is a masquerade of forgiveness. Yet, true forgiveness, that does not back down, is a moral virtue whether or not others looking on judge it to be this or not.
At the same time, some people will decide not to forgive others who perpetrated genocide. This, too, is the person’s free will decision and those looking on, as in the case above, might best handle this situation by realizing that people have a difference of opinion at present on this moral dilemma of forgiving under the most trying of circumstances.
Can and should a person forgive those who perpetrate genocide? Yes, some can and should if they have good reasons to do so. Should all then forgive? No, because this suggests control over a person’s own private decision, which should be left to the one who experienced the trauma.
Robert
