Published On: Sun, Jan 26th, 2025
World | 3,320 views

I survived Auschwitz… the Nazis changed my name to 112021 | World | News

For most people, Auschwitz-Birkenau exists as a haunting chapter of human history – a place they have read about or seen in documentaries. For me, it was my reality. I lived through it as a child. I was just 12 years old when I was torn from my hometown of Mako, Hungary, and thrown into this hellish place.

The moment I passed through the gates, everything changed. My name, my identity – everything that made me, me – was stripped away and replaced with a number: 112021. It was the Nazis’ way of erasing who I was, reducing me to a mere statistic in their brutal machinery of dehumanisation.

However, that number was never tattooed on my arm.

The day they lined us up, the line stretched too long. The next day, they ran out of ink. So, my arm remained unmarked – a glitch in an otherwise relentless machine of death and cruelty.

It was a small victory, a silent reminder even in such a dark place that I was a human being clinging to my own identity.

Eighty years may have passed, but for me the memories of life and death in Auschwitz remain painfully fresh. There is a reason why survivors refer to it as “hell on earth”. When Auschwitz-Birkenau was liberated on January 27, 1945, it revealed a horror that defied imagination.

This network of camps in occupied Poland was the epicentre of the Nazis’ genocidal campaign in the heart of Europe during the Second World War. Above the entrance, a sign read: “Arbeit macht frei”, translating to “work sets you free” – a callous lie that masked the brutality within.

Today, Auschwitz stands as a symbol of Nazi cruelty and, heartbreakingly, humanity’s capacity for evil. It is also a reminder of the devastating consequences of unchecked hate and bigotry. Every part of this place was designed to dehumanise: barbed wire fences, imposing watchtowers, rail tracks leading directly to gas chambers and crematoria.

It was a killing factory, fuelled by a state ideology of hate. More than one million people were murdered here – the majority being Jews, but the Nazis’ cruelty extended beyond us to other groups. The suffering was unimaginable.

The trauma does not fade. How can it? My mother, sister, and little brother perished in its gas chambers. They were murdered for one reason and one reason only: they were Jewish.

I survived by pretending to be 16 and condemning myself to slavery instead. I endured starvation that left my body skeletal and every day was marked by brutal, back-breaking labour.

However, in the darkest moments, I clung to one small, fierce hope: to survive and someday tell the world what the Nazis did. Auschwitz-Birkenau will forever stain humanity’s conscience. And that is why, whenever I see antisemitism rising, a chill runs through me.

Today, I write not as an academic or historian, but as someone who endured the brutality of the Nazis.

I am not here to invoke pity – I am here to share a simple message: hate and intolerance are not born in a vacuum. The Holocaust did not begin with guns or gas chambers. It began with hateful rhetoric, with small acts of prejudice and discrimination.

This is why I implore you to recognise the power of words. Stand up for those who are different. Challenge all forms of bigotry. Your voice, your courage, matters.

Elie Wiesel, another Auschwitz survivor, famously said: “For the survivor who carries memories of the Holocaust, silence is not an option.” And it is not an option for you, either. Be the voice that speaks out when others remain silent. The Holocaust Memorial Day Trust chose a powerful theme this year: For A Better Future.

This future does not rest on survivors alone – it is a collective responsibility. As our generation fades, our life stories must be passed on, not to glorify suffering, but to plant seeds for a better future.

Today, Auschwitz stands as a museum. Tourists walk those same grounds and whisper to one another, trying to grasp the immensity of what happened. Many leave feeling deeply moved, some pledging to fight for a better world.

If you are one of those who visit, or who learns about it from afar, do not let time distance you from its lessons.

Let it stir you to action. The lessons of Auschwitz are too important to forget, and the price of silence is too high.

  • Ivor Perl BEM, 92, survived Auschwitz-Birkenau as a 12 year old. Of his parents and eight siblings, only he and his brother Alec survived