Agency, Structure and Jewish Survival of the Holocaust a Life History Study - Berger)

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AGENCY, STRUCTURE, AND JEWISHSURVIVAL

OF THE HOLOCAUST:

A Life History Study

Ronald 1 Berger

University

of

Wisconsin Whitewaer

In this article

I

use a life history

of

two brothers who survived the Holocaust to bring

survivor research into the mainstream of sociological inquiry and to explore one of the

central problems of general social theory: the relationship between hum an agency and

social structure. A theory

of

agency and structure offers a distinctly sociological alterna-

tive in a literature that has been dominated by psychological theorizing and that has often

characterized Jews in overly negative or overly heroic terms. Survivors’ accounts are per-

meated w ith “epiphanies,” including “crucial mom ents” involving the ability to make diffi-

cult choices and quick decisions that were the difference between life and death. Th ese

situations illuminate the relationship between agency and structure in instances where the

tension between them is heightened. Survivors’ life histories suggest ways in which Jews’

ability to exercise agency

to

survive structural conditions of extremity was influenced by

their pre-war exposure to cultural schemas and resources that they were able to transpose to

the war-occupation context. Successful agency, however, was in large part a collective

accomplishment and dependent on factors beyond individuals’ control.

Study

of

the Holocaust has for the most part remained marginal to sociology (Bauman

1989; Berger 1993). This sociological absence is particularly evident with respect to analyses

of

Jewish survivors’ experiences, which have been dom inated by psy chological theorizing that

views survival as a matter endogenous to individuals rather than as a social process. Through

a life history of two Jewish brothers who survived the Holocaust-one inside and one outside

the concentration camps-I offer a distinctly sociological framing of survivors’ experiences in

terms of a central problem of general social theory: the relationship between human agen cy

and social structure.’ This framework was not assumed or identified a priori, but emerged in

the course of the research (see Glaser and Strauss 1967). I appropriate “agency” and “struc-

ture”

as

fundamental presuppositional categories of generalized sociological discourse (Alex-

ander 1982).

As

such, they provide a foundation

for

developing an alternative to the literature

that psycholog izes survival and to characterizations of Jews that are overly negative or overly

heroic.

Current expositions

of

a general theory

of

agency and structure focus on the developm ent of

abstract conceptual schem es (Ritzer 1992). I do not attempt to advance this theory per se, but

to ground it in “the world of problematic lived experience” (Denzin 1989b, p. 7). In this

*Direct

all

correspondence

lo:

Ronald J Berger, Department of Sociology, University of Wisconsin-Whitewater. W hitewater, W I

53190.

The Sociological Quarterly,

Volume

36,

N u m b e r

1

pages 15-36.

Copyright 1995 by The Midwest So ciologic al Society .

All rights of reproduction in any fo rm requested.

ISSN:

0038-0253.


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regard

I

share interactionists’ interest in providing d escriptive interpretations of ordinary indi-

viduals interacting in particular historical moments. Although genocides are non-routine, they

are recurrent social phenom ena. Sociological analyses of survivors’ experiences can help in-

form us about how individuals survive such ruptures in everyday life and, more generally,

how people respond to and overcome adversity (Gallant and Cross 1992).

Robert Lifton (1980) defines a survivor as someone who remains alive after encountering

or witnessing death. Holocaust survivors lived through a persistent “condition of extremity”

that appeared beyond one’s “ability to alter or end” (Des Pres 1976, pp. 7-8). The ir accounts

are permeated with “epiphanies,” that is, interactional moments of crises that leave indelible

“marks on people’s lives” and through which “personal character is manifested” (Denzin

1989a, p. 15). Holocaust epiphanies often include “crucial mom ents” involving the ability to

make difficult choices and quick decisions that were the difference between life and death

(Langer 1991, p. 151). In Jean-Paul Sartre’s (1956, p. 457) terms, they contain a “coefficient

of adversity,” where external conditions put up “actual resistance” to agency (Detmer 1988, p.

43). As such, Holocaust epiphanies illuminate the relationship between agency and structure

in instances where the tension between them is heightened.

CHARACTERIZING JEWISH SURVIVORS

Jewish Particularity and Emotional Reminders

The Holocaust took the lives of sixty percent of European Jewry, about one-third of the

world’s Jewish population. At the Nurem berg trials that followed World War

I

the particu-

larity

of

Jewish victimization was acknowledged but subsumed under the broader category

of

“crimes against humanity” and soon “half forgotten” (Hilberg 1991, p. 1 3). In the first post-

war decade the suppression of Jewish memory was also apparent in survivors’ relationships

with those outside of the survivor comm unity. Som e survivors remained silent in part because

of their desire to forget the trauma, their guilt for having lived when others died, and their

“shame of telling a story that must [have appeared] unbelievable” (Friedlander 1992, p. 48;

Helmreich 1992; Miller 1990).

The 1961

trial of Adolf Eichmann in Israel was an “emotional reminder”-an even t or

experience that calls forth “memories and feelings that have been retained in the psychic

body” (Schmitt 1989 , p. 247)-that brought the particularity of Jewish victimization into fo-

cus. It was the first time that large numbers of survivors began to tell their stories in public

(Miller 1990). Following this, the 1967 Six-Day War between Israel and its Arab neighbors

renewed fears among Jews that a second Holocaust was possible. Th e decisive Israeli victory,

however, brought pride and confidence to Jews around the world. Along with the financial

security that Jews had achieved in the United States, survivors felt empowered to become

mo re vocal about their experiences. By the late 1970s the Holocaust began receiving w ide-

spread exposure in the mass media. Survivors who w ere “deprived for so many years of

respectful listeners to their stories” came to see themselves as responsible for reminding the

world that what had happened to them must happen “Never again ” (Miller 1990, p. 231).

Scholarly Characterizations

Much of the initial scholarly research on Jewish victims and survivors characterized their

responses in largely negative terms. Jews were viewed as passively accepting their fate, as

going “like sheep to the slaughter” (Rubenstein and Roth 1987, p. 160). The Jewish Councils

organized by the Nazis to carry out their edicts were criticized for being overly compliant and


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Agency Structure and lewish Survival of the Holocaust

1 7

for collaborating with the Nazis (Arendt 1963; Hilberg 1985). In one of the most influential

appraisals of the concentration camps, Bruno Bettleheim (1960) suggested that inmates typi-

cally regressed to a childish dependency on the

S S

guards, experienced deindividuation, aban-

doned prev iously inculcated norm s and values, and eventually identified completely with their

oppressors. Othe rs characterized Jewish behavior in the camps as fatalistic, self-destructive,

divisive, corrupt, and predatory (Dimsdale 1980; Marrus 1987).

Terrence Des Pres (1976) was one of the first to observe that these formulations were

derived from limited observations and were misleading as generalizations. For instance, Bet-

tleheim (1960) developed his thesis on the basis of camp conditions in the 1930s, a period

when prisoners in positions of power were not political prisoners

or

Jews, but those who had

been convicted of predatory crimes. Analysts have increasingly adopted a more nuanced view

of the variety and complexity of human response to extremity and have turned their attention

to the constructive strategies for survival that emerged during the Nazi period.2 Individuals

who survived extremity emerged from an initial period of trauma, despair, and disbelief to a

point where they were able t o realistically appraise their situation and take strategic courses of

action through calculated risk-taking and disobedience. Many were able to do

so

without

complete aband onmen t of pre-war norms of human reciprocity and systems of morality. For

example, Des Pres (1976, p. 99) no tes that survivors’ accounts emphasize the “all against all”

atmosphere, but also regularly include reports of people offering each other “help and mutual

care.”

Still, both survivors and analysts remain ambivalent about the role of human agency in

Jewish survival. Survivors often attribute their ability to stay alive in large part to luck,

chance,

or

miracles (Blum et al. 1991; Rothchild 1981). Similarly, Lawrence Langer (1991, p.

199) describes the Holocaust as an instance of “what it meant . . . to exist

without

a sense of

human agency.” On the other hand, he also finds that survivors often recount making choices

and taking purposeful actions on those occasions when opportunities were available (also see

Helmreich 1992).

As

I suggested earlier, scholarly interpretations of the agency involved in Holocaust sur-

vival typically psychologize the experience as endogenous to individuals.

For

instance, Des

Pres (1976, p. 201) describes survivors’ inherent will to live as an evolutionary pattern or

“biological imperative.”

Viktor Frankl (1959, p. 87) argues that survivors’ adjustments to

cam p life indicate that choices of action result more from an “inner decision” than from ex ter-

nal conditions. Michael U nger (1986) highlights the role of internal defense mechanisms that

enabled individuals to block out the horror and focus on their survival needs. William Hel-

mreich (1992, p. l l l ) focuses on “personality traits” such a s assertiveness, tenacity, willing-

ness to take risks, flexibility, optimism, and intelligence. He concludes that the “story of the

survivors is one

of

courage and strength, of people who are living proof o f . [the] capacity

for hope, . . . [and

o f ]

how remarkable people can be” (p. 276). Langer (1991, p. 180),

however, cautions against accounts that romanticize survivors as triumphant heroes

or

individ-

uals who accomplished “a victory of the human spirit” (Gilbert 1985, p. 828).3

Among existing analyses, Patricia Benner and her colleagues (1980) most closely approxi-

mate a social theory of agency and structure through a general model of stress and coping

behavior. They characterize stress as a relational concept that reflects “reciprocity between

external demands, constraints, and resources” and “internal resources to manage them” (p.

219). They v iew survivors as persons who attempted to manipulate the stress experience to

achieve some degree of control over “those small segments of reality that could be managed


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[and contained] possibilities for . . . action” (pp. 236, 238). Coping proceeded through

cognitive appraisal of the stress situation and evaluation of available options. In the camps,

“any cessation of appraisal was a signal

of

impending death” (p. 235). Wh ile Benner and

her colleagues fail short of a distinctly sociological alternative to psychological theorizing,

their stress-coping model can be recast in more sociological terms in ways that advance our

understanding

of

Holocaust survival.

CONC EPTUA LIZING A GENCY A N D STRUCTURE: A FRAMEWORK FOR

ANA LYZING HOLO CAUST SURVIVAL

In this article

I

interpret the two brothers’ life histories through a general theory of agency and

structure derived from Anthony G iddens 1979, 1984)and William Sewell 1992). I appropri-

ate their work as a foundational “sensitizing scheme” (Turner

1991,

p.

10)

for the analysis of

Jewish survival, rather than to advance their theories in toto. This approach allows me to

enhance the orientating framework with concepts derived from interactionist theorists who

work outside of the agency-structure tradition.

In a reformulation of Giddens’s concepts, Sewell views social structure as consisting

of

cultural schemas

and

resources.

Cultural schemas refer to generalized prescriptions for ac-

tion, both formal and informal, including modes of thought, conventions, habits of speech,

gestures, and the like. Resources refer to capabilities, both hum an and nonhuman , that enab le

actors to acquire, maintain, or generate power in social interactions. Agency in this scheme

involves the capacity to exert control and even to transform

to

some extent “the social rela-

tions in which one is enmeshed” (Sewell

1992,

p.

20).

It entails “an ability to coordinate

one’s actions with others and against others and to mon itor the simultaneous effects

of

one’s own and others’ activities” (p.

21).

This conception is consistent with interactionists’

view of individuals as capable of ‘minded,’ self-reflexive behavior” and of “shaping and

guiding” their own and others’ actions (Denzin 1989c, p. 5).

Mary Gallant and Jay Cross 1992) offer a symbolic interaction interpretation that focuses

on the subjective processes by which individuals in the Nazi concentration camps recon-

structed a “challenged identity” from their initial disorientating and depersonifying experi-

ence. This identity involved a strengthened “resolve to endure and in some way change .

conditions f only by actively transforming the meaning of events” (p.

235).

Gallant and

Cross argue that there was “no particular socialization

.

that would specifically prepare

someone” for the survival experience other than “general socialization processes . [that]

prepare the ind ividual to assert the autonomy of the self.” My theory d iffers in three respects:

1) it is not restricted to concen tration camp life, but also encompasses the experience of Jews

passing outside the camps,

2)

the transformation of events was more than symbolic, in other

words, it involved acquisition of material resources that made living possible (e.g., food and

physical protection from the weather and human antagonists), and 3) there were pre-war

structural influences that helped individuals accomplish this transformation.

Structural-oriented sociologists have criticized some interactionists for underestimating the

extent to which “action is organized by structural constraints that are, in some sense, external

to any particular actor” (Alexander

1984,

p.

5,

Alexander

1988;

Reynolds

1993).

Sewell,

howev er, argues that structures are both constraining and enabling. Individuals “are born with

only a highly generalized capacity for agency, analogous to their ability to use language”

1992,

p.

20).

“Agency is formed by a specific range of cultural schemas and resources avail-

able in

a

person’s social milieu” and entails individuals’ ability

to

apply or extend “their


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Agency Structure and lewish Survival

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the Holocaust

19

structurally form ed capacities”

to

new circumstances in “creative and innovative ways” (pp. 4,

20).

In the case of the Holocaust, the social structure of the Nazi regime was systematically

organized to accomplish the persecution and eventual elimination

of

all Jews (Hilberg 1985).

But as the following life history indicates, some Jews’ ability to exercise agency to survive

these structural conditions of extremity was influenced by their pre-war exposure to cultural

schemas and resources that they were able to transpose to the war-occupation context. As

Raul Hilberg (1992, p. 159) argues, “survival was not altogether random.

. .

Although the

German destruction process was a massive leveler, it did not obliterate” all pre-war differ-

ences. How ever, he adds, these differences acquired new meaning: they were no longer a

measure

of

high

or

low status, but an indicator

of

more

or

less vulnerability. For example, age

was a key factor: survivors were more likely to be between their teens and thirties and in

good health at the start

of

their ordeal. These physical resources maximized their ability to

endure hardship and w ithstand disease. In addition, Jews with particular occupational skills

(e.g., physicians, carpenters) also fared better, for they remained useful to their captors or

others who might want to keep them alive.

At the same time, successful agency was in large part a collective accomplishment.

For

instance, survival in the camps required an ability to “organize,” to use the inmates’ lexicon

(i.e., to acquire life-sustaining resources through unautho rized means); and successful organi-

zation was a matter of collective action and derived out of a person’s position in both the

functional hierarchy of the camp and the network

of

social relationships among inmates (Des

Pres 1976; Pawelcynska 1979). Similarly, Jews who survived outside the camps by passing as

Christians generally needed support from the non-Jewish population (Oliner and Oliner 1988;

Tec 1986).

In addition, one would not want to overestimate individuals’ ability to overcome structural

conditions of extremity

or

to assign privileged status to agency ove r structure in social analy-

ses. During the H olocaust all that individuals could hope to accomplish was to hold on a little

longer until external conditions over which they had no control changed (i.e., the Allies de-

feated the German s). Moreover, as Giddens (1984) reminds us, agency must be distinguished

from intentions. Hum an interaction always contains “an emergent, negotiated, often unpre-

dictable” quality (Denzin 1989c, p.

5),

and thus the consequences of actions may differ from

those that are intended.

METHODOLOGY CONSTRUCTING

A LIFE

HISTORY STUDY

This life history study focuses on the experiences of two Jewish brothers-Michael Berger,

who is my father, and Shlomo Berger, who is my uncle-in Nazi-occupied Europe between

1939 and 1945. Michael was interned in several concentration camps, including the Au-

schwitz cam ps at Birkenau and Buna-M onowitz, while Shlomo escaped the cam ps by passing

as a Christian Pole with a construction crew, the Polish Partisans, and the Soviet Army. Both

were from Krosno, Poland , a sm all town of less than 10,OOO population that w ad is located in

southeastern Poland. Michael was born in 1921 and Shlomo in 1919, making them of an age

during the war years that was optimal for survival.

I

adopted a “narrative interview” approach to collect the life histories (Helling 1988, p.

222). In the first stage I asked the brothers to reconstruct their experiences as best they could

recollect “according to [their] own relevancies” (p.

223).

As is common with autobiographi-

cal memories, Michael and Shlomo found a chronological organization of their experience to


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be the most effective means of retrieving memory (see Robinson 1986).4 In the early part of

1988,

Michael began tape recording his narrative alone in the privacy of his home. I tran-

scribed the recording and gave Sh lomo the opportunity to read it. He then recorded a narra-

tive of his own that expanded upon Michael’s account of their common experiences and that

described the particulars of his situation. In the next stage I conducted (separate) open-ended

interviews with the brothers and prompted them to further develop their narratives and fill in

gaps that appeared to remain.

The brothers’ recall ability was impressive, in spite of the time that had elapsed. Th e Holo-

caust was a “major epiphany” for Jewish survivors, a life-shattering event that contained ele-

ments of uniqueness, consequentiality, unexpectedness, and emotionality, all of which

facilitate mem ory retrieval (Denzin 1989b, p. 17; Brewer 1986).5 B ut there were

so

many

layers of experience to unfold, and as both Michael and Shlomo remarked, “every day was a

story in itself.” Importantly, participating in the research project itself served as an emotional

reminder that stimulated the brothers’ memories.

In the cou rse of the research I attempted t o mitigate potential problems of internal validity.

In Michael’s case, it was possible to evaluate elements of his Auschwitz account by refemng

to writings of other Auschwitz survivors. In Shlomo’s case, I was able to interview a Pole

from Krosno, Tadeusz Duchowski, who helped him pass as Christian while working with a

Polish construction crew. Mr. Duchowski corroborated Shlomo’s account and contributed

details that Shlomo had forgotten. I also interviewed Mrs. Duchowski, who helped Shlomo

make contact with her husband. She corroborated the general features of the brothers’ ac-

counts of the Nazi occupation of Krosno and the liquidation of the Jewish community in that

town.6 In addition,

I

consulted other published sources that

are

relevant to the brothers’

experiences.

External validity is another potential concern in life history research. My subjects do not

have the literary skills, professional training (e.g., psychiatry), or religious commitments of

authors of the most well known survivor accounts (Levi 1961; Frankl 1959; Wiesel 1960).

Nor were they among the more elite members of the camps or those who were privy to the

inner workings of resistance efforts. On the other hand, Michael and Shlomo are not individu-

als who were overw helmed by the trauma of the unfolding events. They represent ordinary

Jews who are, in Herbert Blumer’s (1969) terms, well-informed observers who have expertise

because they experienced the Holocaust.

Norman Denzin (1970, p. 243) cautions that the “reactive effects of the observer” need to

be monitored in l ife history re~earch.~lthough I maintained the role of the professional

interviewer, I took seriously Nora Levin’s (1986, p. 92) concern that survivors not be forced

to suffer their experiences “once literally and then imaginatively again.” I was thus cautious

when prob ing the brothers in ways that elicited the emotional pain of their mem ories. Michael

feels that his ordeal “hardened” him and says he gets “choked up” only when he thinks about

the loss

of his family. Shlom o adds, “Twenty years ago I couldn’t talk about it without cry-

ing. But now I can deal with it.” I felt it important to respect the “protective shield” that has

helped the brothers restore their selves to the normality of pre-war and postwar routines (see

Friedlander 1992, p.

5

1) and not force them to dw ell on the anguish that might otherw ise have

been fruitful for a more nuanced analysis of the subjective experience of trauma (see Gallant

and Cross 1992).* The brothers, like many other survivors, reconstructed their experience

“from the context of normality now” and at times had difficulty finding the words to articulate

“the nature of the abnormality

then”

(Langer 1991, p.

22) .

But this makes their account no


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Agency, Structure, and

jewish

Survival of

the

Holocaust

21

less authentic “because how . [they] grasped and related their experiences comprises the

actual core of ‘their story’

”

(Young 1988, p. 39). In spite of their suffering and deep (though

often repressed) sense of family loss, Michael and Shlomo are able to think rationally (though

at times with anger) abou t what transpired and have assimilated their experience in a way that

has allowed them to move forward with their lives (see Helmreich 1992).

During the course of this project I accumulated about twenty hours of narrative-interview

material. Th e “principle of chronology” was used to organize the data for the purpose of

sociological analysis (Blauner 1987, p. 54 .9 The excerpts included below are framed by the

agency-structure issue that is the focus of this article and which, to reiterate, emerged during

the course of the research.

THE

LIFE

HISTORY STUDY

Family Beginnings and Pre-War Influences

The formative relationship between agency and structure that is implicated in the brothers’

survival can be traced to their family beginnings and pre-war exposure to cultural schemas

and resources. Michael and Shlomo are sons of a small shopkeeper who operated a tailor

shop out of the family home. They are the youngest of nine children, five of who m had

emigrated from Poland before World War 11. The brothers had applied for U.S. visas and

were awa iting approval when the war stopped all emigration. While their parents remained

steadfast about staying in Poland themselves, the family cultural milieu was conducive to

developing personal qualities, like flexibility and willingness to take risks that w ere important

to their subsequent survival (see Helmreich 1992). More importantly, the training they re-

ceived in tailoring gave them a resource they were able to exchange during the war years for

favors and essential provisions both inside and outside the camps. Michael observed, “I am

convinced that the tailoring skills we acquired were a major reason that Shlomo and

I

survived

the war.”

The family tailor shop also provided many occasions for the brothers to have contact with

the non-Jewish popu lation. Research on helping behavior during the Holocaust has found that

Christian Poles who had prior relationships with Jews were more likely to lend assistance than

those without such relationships (Oliner and Oliner 1988; Tec 1986). The Duchowskis, who

later helped Shlomo pass as a Christian Pole, were customers whom Shlomo had know n and

with whom he had pleasant interactions before the war.

Knowledge

of

non-Jewish cultural schemas, including language and religion, was also cru-

cial to Jewish survival, particularly outside of the camps (Tec 1986), where impression man-

agement skills were necessary to maintain a “front” or orchestrate a “performance” as a non-

Jew (see Goffman 1959).

In

pre-war Poland more than half the Jewish children attended

Jewish schoo ls that inhibited mastery of the Polish language (Tec 1986). But as boys Michael

and Shlom o attended school in mixed classes and played with Christian children. While the

Berger family was by no means assimilated, Michael and Shlomo acquired social skills that

enabled them

to

interact effectively with non-Jews.

In addition, Shlomo learned a little German in school, which helped the brothers through

encounters with German soldiers at the beginning of the war. Later, Shlomo and Michael’s

facility with U krainian, which is similar to Russian, enabled them to negotiate “black market”

transactions with the Soviets to acquire essential provisions. Tow ard the end of the war,

Shlomo was able to capitalize on his language skills by assisting a Soviet officer who wa s in

charge of German prisoners of war.


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In pre-war Poland, Jews who observed religious rules that dictated special rituals and dress

often looked and behaved in w ays that made them different from non-Jews (Tec 1986 . Dur-

ing the war this characteristic limited their ability to pass. While the Berger family kep t an

orthodox Jewish home and the brothers retained a respect for Jewish traditions, Michael and

Shlomo’s religious views can best be described as agnostic. They were not fatalistic about

God’s role in helping them survive the war, for as Shlomo remarked, “I did not depend on

some supreme being to save me. I was banking on myself, on acting properly at the

right time, taking the chances, and having a little luck.”” As boys both brothers also partici-

pated in Zionist youth groups, and Shlomo received military training in an Irgun Tseva’

Le’ummi camp, which helped prepare him for his later wartime experience with the Polish

Partisans.

The Beginning of the War

Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss

1971,

p. 2) define a “status passage” as a “movement

into a different part

of

a social structure.” They note that such passages may be “desirable”

or

“undesirable,” for they often entail “a loss or gain of privilege, influence, or power” (pp.

2,

89).

The Nazi invasion and military defeat of Poland in September 1939 initiated the major

epiphany that propelled Polish Jews through an undesirable status passage that would forever

change their lives, if they survived.

When Germany first invaded Poland the Berger brothers traveled east to join the retreating

Polish army. After Poland was quickly defeated they started for home and were confronted by

German soldiers who were known to mistreat and even kill Jews. Michael recalls this encoun-

ter: “Very few Poles spoke German . Shlomo told them that we were German nationals

who had been living in Poland for generations and that we had escaped from the Polish au-

thorities [who] wanted to draft us

. .

to fight Germany. They believed our story and let us

go.” A couple of days later the brothers arrived safely in Krosno.

By prior treaty agreement Germany allowed the Soviets to move into eastern Poland and

the country was partitioned by two occupy ing armies. Krosno, now administered by the Ge-

stapo, was on the German side about forty kilometers from the new German-Soviet border.

At the time it was impossible to know the Nazis’ intentions toward the Jews, and by the end of

September the Gestapo began encouraging them to move to the Soviet side .” Because trans-

portation was not provided and means of survival unsure, the Berger family decided it would

be too difficult for the parents to leave. Thus the parents remained w ith an older brother,

Moishe, and a sister, Bertha, while Michael and Shlomo made an emotionally painful decision

to part with the family and move to the Soviet side.12

They traveled east by foot and train to the city of Sam bor. They were aided there by a

Jewish family who gave them food and a place to sleep. But they still needed add itional

provisions, which they obtained by acquiring work as tailors and through “black market”

transactions with the Sov iet soldiers. Life was nevertheless difficult, and the Berger brothers

missed their family. By the end of the year Michael became ill, and they decided he needed

the comforts of home. Although the German-Sov iet border had been sealed by that time, they

made arrangements with

a

smugg ler to help them across. Michael remem bers this as a fatal

mistake, a case where a decision to exercise agency did not achieve its intended result. “The

atmosphere was much more repressive than when I had left. There were Gestapo on every

corner and Jews had been ordered to wear armbands. We planned to wait until the weather

was warmer and then arrange for smugglers to take the whole family to the Soviet side, even


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Agency Structure and

jewish Survival of

the

Holocaust

2 3

if it meant abandoning everything. . This we were not able to do. The borders were being

guarded more closely, and it became impossible to cross.”

Escalation of An ti-Jewish Policies

At this point the Nazis intensified their anti-Jewish campaign. While the Berger fam ily did

not attempt to flee or go into hiding, they resisted Nazi edicts whenever they could. Th e

brothers often removed their armbands and traveled

to

neighboring towns

to

visit relatives or

to make “black market” transactions, although they always feared being recognized by Poles

who might report them to the Gestapo.

In

fact, there were occasions when fam ily connections

and bribery were necessary to avoid a more om inous fate. One time Michael traveled to

Rymanow to acquire pepper. “We arranged a purchase . . . at a tavern owned by my m other’s

uncle. As we were getting ready to leave a Polish-Ukrainian police officer appeared

. .

[and] started to question us. When my uncle offered him a beer and then som e mone y, he

left us alone.” Another time Shlomo was arrested in Tarnow for buying dollars and impris-

oned for about three months until his mother was able to pay for his release. As it turned out,

this was a fortuitous experience, for Shlom o was placed in a cell with a Rom an Catholic priest

who conducted religious services three times a day. Thu s a mishap became a resource as

Shlomo had the opportunity to learn about religious rituals and customs that later enabled him

to pass as a Christian Pole.

Because the Gestapo found the family’s tailoring services valuable, the Bergers were able

to stay together

for

a while. How ever, as the anti-Jewish campaign evolved to the point where

the “final solution” was implemented, these services could no longer be exchanged to protect

the entire family. Th e first major liquidation of Krosno Jews occurred on August

10, 1942.

The brothers remember this Holocaust epiphany as the most traumatic day of their entire

ordeal. According to Shlomo:

All Jews . . [were ordered] to report . for a “registration”. . at the marketplace .

[with] up to 25 pounds of personal possessions. . . Anyone found in their homes .would

be shot on sight. Panic erupted Some people tried to escape, but most of [them] were

caught and shot.

. .

As the people.

.

assembled

.

numerous trucks with [military and

police personnel] arrived and encircled the area. We were ordered . . to line up. .

Gestapo officers began segregating

. . .

people into different groups. Older people were

moved to one side and forced into large rucks. They were brutally beaten, and

those

.

not able to climb [aboard] under their own power were simply picked up and

thrown on top. After several trucks were loaded, they departed under heavy [armed]

guard.

.

My father was among them

. . .

At the time we had no idea where they were

taken. Later we learned that they were all delivered to a forest and shot in front of

previously prepared mass graves.

Shlomo and Michael, and their two older brothers, Moishe and Joshua,13 managed to post-

pone a similar fate when an official of Organizacia Todt (a German military construction

agency) who had enjoyed their tailoring services obtained the Gestapo’s permission to release

them into his custody. Michael recalls that “We pleaded with [the Todt official] to allow our

mother [and] sister Bertha o come with

us.

But he refused. They were left behind as we

were taken to work.” Th e next morning the brothers learned that the Jews who had remained

in the marketplace had been taken to Belzec

to

be gassed. Michael felt that “everything had


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1/7 995

been taken away from us.

. . .

We were overwhelmed with grief I could not sleep. My heart

ached I could not believe that this could happen. . All that we had left was a temporary

reprieve foi ourselves and the hope that we might survive.” But he gathered strength from his

father’s last words as he called out from the truck that would take him to his death: “Chil-

dren, Save yourselves ” Gallant and Cross

1992)

observe that a “challenged identity” that

gave Jews the w ill to continue in spite of their suffering derived in part from others’ responses

to their common ordeal. Perhaps in his moment of death, the brothers’ father helped his sons

maintain

their

will to live, and perhaps this is why Michael “never felt guilty about being

alive. t wouldn’t do the dead any good, and it’s not what my parents would have wanted.”

A

month later the Gestapo ordered the Jewish Council to deliver the remaining Jewish

tailors for transport to a nearby

SS

military camp at Moderowka to make uniforms for the

German -allied Ukrainian troops. The four Berger brothers did not accept this edict passively

and negotiated with the Jewish Council to allow them to remain in Krosno. After a heated

exchange they reached a compromise with the Council, who agreed to send only two brothers

to the camp. As Michael recalls, “We had a family meeting to decide who would go and who

would stay. Shlom o and Joshua were the most experienced tailors. . Shlomo also knew

[someone] who had connections with a local Jewish printer who did the printing and made

official seals for the Gestapo. W e decided that Moishe and I would go to the amp, and

that Shlomo and Joshua would try o obtain false identity papers with Polish surnam es and

[a Gestapo] stamp for all of us. Then we would all

try

to escape . o survive the war by any

means we could.”

Passing Outside the Camps

Michael and Moishe were sent to Moderowka, while Shlomo and Joshua remained in

Krosno. In the early part of Decem ber, Shlomo and Joshua heard that the Gestapo was plan-

ning

a

final liquidation of all the Krosno Jews. They decided that they had to flee and that

their chances of escape would be better if they separated. As Shlomo recounts, “Previously I

had been given an address by one of my father’s former Polish customers, Mrs. Duchowski,

whose husband was a supervisor with a construction crew that was on location building

bridges in Czortkow and Nizniow

. .

located

.

east of Stanislawow. She [had] told me

that ‘If something goes wrong, go and see my husband.’ ”

With the forged documents that he had obtained from the local printer, Shlomo walked

about eight kilometers at night through snow covered fields to an unguarded train station at

Iwonicz, where he boarded a train heading east. “All I had were two small pieces of paper:

one was an identification paper with a false Polish name, Jan Jerowski, that was certified with

a counterfeit Gestapo seal, and the other was a forged Todt wo rk order indicating that I was to

report to work near Kiev. During the time I was traveling on the train, police officers often

came on and asked to look at passengers’ documents. Somehow

I

managed to get through.”

However, he never saw Joshua again.

Shlomo’s escape from Krosno and his new identity was accom panied by a changed “aware-

ness context,” that is, “the total combination of what each interactant knows abou t the identity

of the other and his own identity in the eyes of the other” (Glaser and Strauss

1964,

p.

670).

In Krosno, for the most part, Shlomo had exercised agency in an “open” awareness context

where the Germans were knowledgeable about his identity. His escape involved passage into

a “closed” awareness context where he concealed his identity from his antagonists. Shlomo ’s

ability to maintain this closed context through a convincing performance as Jan Jerowski


11/22


25

marked the difference between life and death. Yet he could not have don e this for very long

on his own.

Shlomo arrived at Czortko w and went directly to see Mr. D uchowski, wh o agreed to help:

Mr. Duchowski

.

said he could give me

a

cover as a worker, although he couldn’t pay

me. He took me to the police station in Nizniow and

.

managed to register me

.

and

get me a food

ration

card.

. I

worked in the [company] office and went out on location

. . .

and made notes and charts. I just tried to look busy. I had about 50 single dollar bills

from my black marketing days . and this is how

I

supported myself.

I

even did a little

tailoring for some of the office employees.

.

I lived as a Catholic

. .

[and] attended

church services everyday and applied what I had learned about Catholicism when I had

been imprisoned.

. .

But I never dared go to confession.

.

I also befriended a Polish girl,

whose name was Kristina. I convinced her that I was a Polish political refugee and that I

needed new documents to survive. The Gestapo had just issued an order requiring every

Gentile to carry

a Kenncurte,

an internal passport issued directly by them. However, in

order to get a Kenncarte you had to have a birth certificate. Kristina helped me persuade ~

the local priest to [give] me a birth certificate under my assumed name.

.

On he bottom

of the paper he put in tiny letters that the certificate had been issued on the

basis

of verbal

testimony. But I had enough nerve to walk into the Gestapo office

. .

and ask them

.

[for] a legitimate passport.

Shlomo recollects that it was about February

or

March

1943

when the Polish work crew

was relocated to t he west. H e decided not to risk going with them a nd fled into the forest with

some other Polish workers, where they formed a small independent group of Partisans.

Shlom o was issued a

rifle, which he knew how to handle from his training with the Irgun.

Although his Partisan group was not particularly aggressive, they occasionally attacked Ger-

man m ilitary installations and transports. For the most part Shlomo’s involvem ent with the

Partisans was, in the context of the w ar, a desirable status passage. He was still exposed to

considerable risk, but had become part of a collectivity that afforded its members mutual

protection against the Germans. Yet S hlomo still had to construct a closed awareness context:

“I

never told them

I

was Jewish because

I

was fearful of what they would

do

to me. They

often talked about the Jews-that the one good thing about Hitler was what he was doing to

the Jews.

I

always had to remain on gua rd.

.

and d o things that went against my grain.

They drank a lot of homemade vodka that smelled really bad. I didn’t like to drink and

couldn’t hold my liquor.

I

had to swallow who le glasses of vodka and

. .

sneak out to

the

side and stick m y fingers in my mouth an d throw it up.”

During his time with

the

Partisans Shlomo remembers a Holocaust epiphany that he exper-

ienced as a ‘‘crucial mom ent” in his survival. H e was selected to go into Stanislawow to

acquire som e information about the movement of German troops:

They picked me because

I

knew

.

German. They gave me a counterfeit document

that said I had been called to report

to

the labor department.

.

took a train to Stanisla-

wow [and] when we pulled into the station

.

both

sides

of the tracks were surrounded

with German police. A voice came through a bullhorn telling everyone o remain on

the train and then to . come out through one of the exits. I figured that this was the end,

but I didn’t try to hide. I went straight forward and was among the first o get off.

walked through the middle of the German police who were standing on both sides of the


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1/1995

aisle that had been formed

[and]

came

to

the exit of the station, where a uniformed

Gestapo man and a Ukrainian policeman who spoke Polish were standing. The Gestapo

asked me, in German, “Where are you going?’

I

held

out

my

forged document and the

internal passport

I

had from Nizniow, looked him straight in the eye,

and

said, in Polish, “I

don’t understand German.” He said again, “What did you come here for?’

I

repeated, “I

don’t understand.” Then the Ukrainian officer began translating in Polish. I said I had an

order from the labor department. . The Gestapo took the document and looked i t over.

He looked at me closely, and I continued to look him straight in

the

eyes. I died a thousand

times right there. And then he said to me, “Forward.”

Shlomo remained with the Partisans until the end of M arch 1944 when they joined up with

the Sov iet army that had been advancing westw ard. At this point his survival was quite

clearly aided by changing conditions associated with the war effort that were beyond his

sph ere of influence. Yet his ability to exercise agency to capitalize on this opportunity was

also a key factor.

Joining the Soviet Army was a desirable status passage that further empowered Shlomo,

though he still found it necessary to conceal his Jewish identity. Because of his language

skills he w as able to m ake himself useful as a translator for a S oviet officer who was in charge

of

Germ an prisoners of war. W hen additional Soviet troops were sent to the front lines, where

many w ere killed, Shlo mo persuaded the officer to retain him. “But in order

to

keep me on he

had to give me a rank, and to give me a rank, I had to receive Soviet political training. I

was sent to classes every day for about four weeks and indoctrinated into communism.

When

I

completed the classes, I received the rank of lieutenant. All

of

this time no one ever

knew I w as Jewish.” As the Soviet army moved westward, Shlomo’s unit stayed about fifty to

seventy kilometers behind. In March 1945, when the Soviet front line had moved west of

Krakow, he took a leave and went back to Krosno to look for survivors.

Surviving in the Camps

While Shlomo and Joshua remained in Krosno before the final liquidation, Michael and

Moishe were sent to the Moderowka military camp in September 1942. Unlike the closed

awareness context of the “passing” experience, where Jews had to hide their identity, camp

life maintained an open context where one’s Jewishness was acknowledged. In the camps

M ichael did not need to create the impression that he was a Christian Pole. Instead he needed

to present an image of himself as someone who could perform productive labor and be of

practical use to his captors.

The Holocaust epiphany Michael remembers best when he was at Moderowka involved an

interrogation he endured after receiving a letter from Shlomo which, in a prearranged code,

indicated Shlomo ’s whereabouts. Th e Gestapo wanted to know the origin of the letter.

Although they had in fact seen the postmark, Shlomo had not mailed it from the place he had

been located. Michael received a seve re beating but did not reveal any information. How -

ever,

Re

regrets his brother’s decision to mail the letter:

“I

was happy to hear hat he was

still alive, but

.

I

thought he sho uld not have written because it could have cost m e my life.”

In the summer

of

1943 the Germans closed the Moderowka tailor shop. With the other

Jews, M ichael and Moishe were deported to a concentration camp at Szebnie. This w as quite

clearly an undesirable status passage, for it was the first time Michael experienced the severe

deprivations of cam p life, including lack of food and backbreaking physical labor. Michael


13/22


2 7

recalls that mostly “they had us dig ditches, then cover them back up.” At Szebnie he w as

also separated from Moishe, who was taken away from the camp and did not survive the war.

Michael laments, “I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to him.”

Th e liquidation of the Szebnie camp in November 1943 forced Michael to endure yet an-

other Holocaust epiphany:

[We] were led out of the camp . [and] ordered to run. W e were sure we were being

taken to the forest to be shot. . I remember joining with others all round me in oudly

reciting “Sh’ma Yisrael,” “Oh hear me God ” At that time, there was nobody else to turn

to. . . We ended up at a train depot where we saw huge piles of clothing [and] were

ordered to undress. It was

a

cold rainy day, and I had only my shorts on. We were forced

to get into standing-room only cattle cars . . for a] journey [that] lasted wo days.

We were queezed together so tight that some of us suffocated. We were not given any

food or water, and we had to urinate right where we were standing. We were not even

given a bucket. Many people died before we arrived at our destination.

Michael’s destination was the Auschwitz camp at Birkenau, the place of the infamous gas

chambers and crematoria. Unger

1986)

notes that upon first arrival at Auschw itz many pris-

oners failed to comprehend the significance of the “selection” procedure that they immedi-

ately faced. Others, like Michael, quickly realized what was happening and took action to

maximize their chances of surviving this “crucial moment” epiphany:

W e were surrounded by SS soldiers and ordered to line up.

A

couple

of

officers w ent

through the lines pointing a finger at each prisoner and ordering us to, “Step left, step right,

left, right.” I quickly surmised hat

the

group with the stronger and taller people would

be picked for work and that the group with the weaker people would be killed. I was

standing next to a middle-age man who had an obviously crippled leg.

When he was

ordered to the left, I knew that this was not the group I wanted to be in.

So

when I was

ordered left, I went right. Th e whole process occurred with such speed that the

guards did not notice that I had disobeyed the order and switched groups.

Michael’s group was marched into a large compound where the prisoners had their heads

shaved and were forced into freezing cold showers.

We were then ordered

.

o line up . [and] each prisoner was registered and tattooed

with a number on his left

arm

was given number 160914.

I

no longer had a name.

When number 160914 was called, I responded.

.

We were given a pair of striped pants,

shirt, and jacket . of thin summ er weight, [and] a cap and uncomfortable wooden

clogs. W e were assigned to

.

barracks and indoctrinated into the . rules of the

camp. Finally, we were given a bowl of [watery] soup,

.

[our] first food since

leaving Szebnie.

.

t did not take long for us to become aware of the gas chambers and

crematoria because of the smell and smoke. And if you didn’t realize this on your

own, a veteran prisoner or a guard would ay, “See that smoke. That’s where you’ll

be going any time.”


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When M ichael was in Birkenau he didn’t perform any productive labor: “Mostly we car-

ried heavy stones from one side of the camp to the other. Th e guards would beat us

[and their] dogs

. .

would bite. Th e work could go on for hours at a time, and when the

guards got tired they would leave

us

standing in front of the barracks for the rest of the day.

We did everything . . ust to keep from freezing, including . huddling together to benefit

from each other’s body heat. . Sometimes [the guards] . . made us remain in a crouched

position. It was pure misery ”

According to Unger (1986, p. 282), prisoners “who had lived in a more or less normal

environment immediately before arriving” at Auschwitz had a more difficult time overcoming

their initial shock and trauma, especially if this was the first time they had to cope with the

sudden

loss

of family. Others, like Michael, had been more gradually acclimated to the camp

experience, to the extent this was possible, and “continued to ponder ways of ameliorating

their situation” (p. 290). But with the hard work and meager food rations, Michael estimates

that he could not have survived Birkenau for more than three months. Fortunately, after abou t

four weeks he was sent to the nearby Auschwitz camp at Buna-Monowitz. Unlike Birkenau,

Buna was a camp where productive work was conducted for the Third Reich by IG Farben

Industries. Prisoners, especially those with skills, were valued as long as they were strong

enough to work. In the context of the camp system, transfer to Buna was a desirable status

passage. Michael remem bers that Buna imm ediately struck him as “an improvem ent . and

that survival was possible here. I could see that while some inmates looked emaciated,

others seemed well fed. [This meant] that some prisoners must be managing to get additional

provisions, and

I

knew that if I was to survive I would have

to

find out where [they] came

from .” Thu s, in Erving Goffm an’s (1961, p. 189) terms, Michael had surmised that behind the

“primary adjustments” to camp life were the “secondary adjustments” that some inmates had

made to circumvent their-captors’ “assumptions as to what [they ] should do and get and hence

what [they] should be.”

An inmate’s position in the work structure of the camp was the most important factor in

determining life chances at Auschwitz, and survival depended upon one’s ongoing appraisal

about which work groups Kommandos) were best or least dangerous to be in (Benner et al.

1980; Pingel 1991). Kommandos that did not require hard physical labor and that allowed one

to remain inside sheltered from the cold were the most desirable. Michael regrets missing an

opportunity for an easier work assignment when he first am ved . “I had a painful sore on the

insole of my foot from the constant rubbing of my shoes. So after we were assigned to our

barracks, I walked over to the Ka-Be (camp hospital). In my absence the Kapos (work group

leaders) asked inmates what types of trades they were in and began assigning people to differ-

ent work Kommandos. IG Farben needed skilled workers [and] was even willing to train

some of the younger people. . . . When

I

returned . . . all the special assignments were taken

and I was put into the category of a simple laborer. It was hard work. Our Kapos were

merciless

.

and we received many beatings.”

Michael recalls that after several weeks:

1 was getting hungrier and weaker by the day. I dreamed of having an extra ration of

food.

. I

had Seamed that there w ere two classes of inmates-those who existed only on

food rations allocated to them by the cam p authorities, and those who managed to get]

extra contraband food. These inmates were referred to a s “organizers.” . [Inmates] who

were unable to organize continued to deteriorate. Those who lost a lot of weight and


15/22

Agency, Structure, and lewish Survival

of

the Holocaust

29

became emaciated were known as

muselmunn.

A

muselnlann’s

days were limited. He

either died of malnutrition or beatings [because he couldn’t work], or was sent to the gas

chambers after a selection. At great risk o f .

. .

getting caught

.

here were many w ays

an enterprising inmate could organize.

.

Some

. .

were able to get extra rations by

performing personal services

. or

prominent inmates like Blockalreste barrack leaders),

Kupos,

or kitchen personnel.

. . .

Some o f the [non-Jewish] Polish inmates were eve n

allowed to receive food packages from their relatives. Some inmates, especially Kapos,

were in a position to barter with the civilian employees who worked at the IG Farben plant

.

who desired] the

.

commod ities that were being stored in the warehouses, but which

were not avai lable on the open market. In return, civilians gave inmates food .

. . .

Since the

inmate then had plenty to eat, he was no longer dependent on his camp rations and could

give them [away].

Up to this point Michael was unable to penetrate the network of camp relationships that

controlled access to organizing. He was beginning to look like a muselmann and was increas-

ingly vulnerable to the selections. On one such occasion he was picked and assembled w ith

several hundred other inmates in a large holding room. He recalls: “By now I knew that the

end was near, and yet I hoped for a miracle. And indeed a miracle did happen.” This was a

“crucial moment” epiphany of Michael’s survival, and his reference to a “miracle” or “luck”

is noteworthy. His survival, however, was significantly dependen t on his taking the initiative

to negotiate opportunities and, once again, on his ability

to

exchange his skill as a tailor.

Important as well was the support he received from more privileged inmates who were in a

position to make decisions about saving lives and who applied a utilitarian ethic to maximize

the survival of the group (G allant and Crosss

1992;

Pawelcynska

1979).

As Michael exp lains,

“I was lingering around near the entrance of the room. Th e chief do cto r. came in with his

assistant, the record keeper, . [and told him] to pick out several youngsters. I presented

myself before them and asked them to help me. Th e assistant grabbed my arm, marked off my

tattoo number, and sent me off to the barracks. He did the sam e to a few others who were

under twenty years of age. Later I found out

.

[that] they had patients in the hospital who

were doom ed because of age and bad health, [and] they substituted us for them, thus living up

to an unwritten code of saving the younger people.”

Michael realized that this was only a temporary reprieve and decided to go “back to the

hospital to see the record keeper.

I

thanked him for saving my life, but told him it wou ld be a

useless gesture if I had to continue in the same Kommando. I asked

.

. if he could use his

influence to arrange [a different placement].

I

lucked out, for he gave me a letter to the

person in charge of work assignments. I went to see him and he reassigned me to Kommando

I, one of the best in the camp.” Mem bership in Kommando

1

was a desirable status passage

that moved Michael into a different part of the camp social structure. Now he was able to

work in a warehouse, which was “the first time in many weeks [that] I was inside a heated

building. . .Still

I

was not able to organize, and

I

was constantly hungry. Then

I

got lucky.

I

noticed that the Kupo was missing a couple of buttons from his uniform. I told him I was

a tail or . and he] asked if

I

knew how

to

sew pants. I said that

if

he got me material

I

could

do it.” Michael’s Kapo gave him m aterial, thread, a needle, and pair of scissors. He had the

machine shop make him a thimble from

a

one-half inch pipe and set him up in a small room in

the warehouse. It took Michael about two weeks to finish the trousers, and he remembers that

the Kupo was very plea sed “He told me that from now on I was to be his personal valet. I

was to wash his laundry and iron his clothes. In return

I

would receive his camp food rations,


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THE SOC IOLO GICA L QUARTERLY Vol.

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for he had

no

need for ordinary camp food. .

I

was now on my way to becoming an

organizer, and

I

began to have hope.

. . I

started to gain weight and feel much stronger

.

[and] soon the Kapo introduced

me

to the organizing scheme.”

Th e organizing scheme

of Kommando I

involved smuggling supplies to civilians at the IG

Farben plant. As part of this arrangement Michael received add itional food, although he did

not feel that he had enough to share. He only remembers one instance where he gave som e

soup, bread, and tobacco to a Polish Jew who was in need. Otherwise, he consumed all the

food he had right on the spot. Michael never stole anything from another inmate, but his

decision to focus on his personal needs was an important factor in his survival (see Pingel

199

1 .

l

Neither did Michael take part in the more sophisticated resistance efforts at Auschwitz. His

strategy of survival was more modest. In his view, “The opportunities to escape or in other

ways resist were quite limited. Many of us were aware of the Germans’ practice of collective

punishment even before w e got to the camps. .

So

we were not necessarily favorably

inclined toward resisters. W e did sympathize with the more

.

experienced prisoners who

organized escapes or sabotage efforts that were more likely to be successful, but most of

us were not privy to these schemes. . . But

I

don’t think

I

would have joined them [if

I

had

the chance] because

I

felt that my chances

. .

n Buna were greater if

I

didn’t risk being

executed for something

I

could choose to avoid.”

In January

1945,

as the Soviet military advanced westward, the

S S

decided to evacuate the

Bun a cam p and retreat with the prisoners into Germany. According to Michael: “All of the

prisoners were assembled and prepared to march. There was chaos in the camp.

I

did not

know it at the time, but the guards were in such a hurry to leave that they did not search the

camp for those prisoners who did not report

.

[and] hid out

.

wherever they could.

I

thought abo ut doing this myself, but

I

was afraid to risk being discovered and possibly being

shot.” Th e prisoners who remained w ere liberated by the Soviets abou t ten days later (Levi

1961). In retrospect Michael regrets not exercising his agency to hide because “the following

months were the most difficult

I

had to endure during my entire ordeal.” During this time he

was marched and transported by train from one camp to another. Although he had opportuni-

ties to attempt escape, he did not feel the risk was worth taking. “Som e prisoners took their

chances and jumped overboard [from the train]. Th e guards shot [and killed] most of

them. Maybe [the others were] braver and had more courage, [but]

I

felt that

I

wouldn’t be able to make it.” Michael endured and was liberated by the U.S. Army in May

1945. A few years later he was reunited with Shlom o in the United States.

CON LU 0

When Elie Wiesel began speaking out about the Holocaust he was concerned that the dis-

course of social science would fail to communicate the nature of the evil and suffering inher-

ent in this epochal historical event (see Freeman

1991).

Historians, on the other hand,

cautioned against mystifying the Holocaust

as

an inexplicable event that existed “outside”

history (Bauer

1990).

In recent years historians have come a long way toward demystifying

the Holocaust and bringing it into the mainstream of their discipline

(Marms

1991). Wiesel’s

admonition notwithstanding, sociologists need to do the same.

This life history study of two brothers’ survival affords opportunities to examine the rela-

tionship between human agency and social structure, one of the central problems

of

general

social theory. Th e fundam ental presuppositional categories of sociology, which we often take


17/22

Agency Structure and lewish Survival

of

the Holocaust

3 1

for granted in our interpretations of ordinary social life, help inform us about how individuals

survive conditions of extremity.

I

argued that the agency-structure framework, which allows

incorporation of interactionist concepts, provides a foundation for developing a distinctly soci-

ological alternative to a literature dominated by psycho logical theorizing and to characteriza-

tions of Jews that are overly negative or overly heroic.

Th e agency-structure framew ork was not assumed a priori, but emerged in the course of the

research.

I

adopted a “narrative interview” approach by first asking the Berger brothers to

reconstruct their experiences and then prompting them to expand upon their narratives. Th e

brothers’ accounts were still accessible because of the numerous, varied, and enduring emo-

tional reminders of the Holocaust epiphanies they had experienced, including “crucial mo-

ments” where their ability to make difficult choices and quick decisions made the difference

between life and death. Thes e situations illuminate the relationship between agency and struc-

ture in instances where the tension between them was heightened.

The Berger brothers and other Jews who survived the Holocaust did

so

in the face of a

social structure that was systematically organized to accomplish their deaths. Michael and

Shlomo’s ability to exercise agency successfully was influenced by their pre-war exposure to

cultural schemas and resou rces that they were able to transpose to the war-occupation con text.

Knowledge of non-Jewish cultural schemas, such as language and religion, was especially

important to Sh lomo’s survival outside of the camps, where he operated in a closed awareness

context and needed to m aintain a front as a Christian Pole. In the camps,

on

the other hand,

Michael operated

in

an open awareness context, where he needed to impress his captors as

someon e who could perform productive labor for them.

Perhaps the m ost important resource the brothers had at their disposal was the tailoring skill

they had acquired as youths, which they were able to exchange for favors and provisions both

inside and outside the camps. Michael and Shlomo were also socialized in a family cultural

milieu where flexibility and willingness to take risks, as indicated by their siblings who had

emigrated, were normative. As children they were not isolated from the Christian population

and they acquired knowledge of non-Jewish cultural schemas that became a resource they

drew upon to negotiate situations with non-Jews. In part because of their religious agnosti-

cism and experience with Zionist youth movements, they were not fatalistic about God’s role

in helping them su rvive. Both were able to realistically appraise their situation and take stra-

tegic courses of action through calculated risk-taking and disobedience. This was not an atti-

tudinal or behavioral trait that came easily to many Jews, for after centuries of persecution

“Jews had learned that in order to survive they had to refrain from resistance” (H ilberg 1985,

p.

300).

In addition, Michael and Shlom o’s age was a resource that maximized their capacity

to endure physical hardship and withstand disease, for children and the elderly were the first

to die in the Jewish ghettos and concentration camps. Moreover, the gradual process of their

disempowerment allowed the brothers time to acquire experience living under German occu-

pation that could later be used as a resource to help them survive.

The Berger brothers’ ability to exercise successfully their structurally formed capacity for

agency w as also a collective accomplishmen t. At various points during the war they received

help from family members (including each other), acquaintances (e.g., the Duchowskis), and

strangers. Both Michael and Shlom o eventually underwent desirable status passages by be-

coming members of collectivities (e.g., the Polish Partisans, the Soviet Arm y,

Kommando I

that afforded them increased power and protection.


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At the same time, the life history suggests that it is unwise to overestimate individuals’

ability to overcome structural conditions of extremity and assign privileged status to agency

over structure in social analyses. If Germany had not been defeated in the war, Michael,

Shlom o, and other Jewish survivors would have inevitably perished. Moreover, their survival

remains a “fragmentary achievement,” for even in its most “triumphant guise” their agency

contrasts sharply with their impotence in the face of family

loss

(Langer 1991, p.

157).

Michael and Shlomo were not always able to accomplish their intended objectives, and they

experienced numerous occasions where the opportunity to exercise agency eluded them and

they could have easily been killed. They believe that their survival was very much contingent

on factors beyond their control, which they view, as do other survivors, as a matter of “luck.”

Nevertheless, the agency that was constituted by one’s ability or inclination to hold on, to

hope that “good luck” would come along, was itself a resource that derived from accumulated

experience. As Frankl (1959, pp. 10 3-104) observes: “Even if we could not expect any sen-

sational military events in the next few days,

who knew be tter than we, with our experience o

camps,

how great chances sometimes opened up, quite suddenly, at least for the individ-

ual. For this was the kind of thing which constituted the ‘luck’ of the prisoner” (my

emphasis). Thu s what survivors understand as “luck” does not, in my view, deny the signifi-

cance of agency in overcoming structural conditions of extremity

or

other forms of

adversity. l 5

Finally,

I

would add that sociologists have spent considerable time debunking ideologies

that blame the disadvantaged and oppressed for their own victimization (see Wright 1993), but

we have neglected to examine how individuals who suffer hardship overcome adversity.

Michael and Shlomo Berger, like

so

many other Jewish survivors, established successful work

and family lives after the war (Helmreich 1992). In addition

to

providing the world with

emotional reminders of the Holocaust, survivors offer testimonies to people’s ability “to en-

dure [and] prevail o v e r. . structural forces that threaten . . all of us” (see Denzin

1989a, p.

83).

Herein lies a legacy of Jewish agency and the Holocaust that deserves further

examination in other contexts.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank Norman Denzin and the anonymous reviewers of this journal for their

helpful comments and suggestions.

NOTES

1. Agency and structure are sometimes viewed as parallel to micro and macro levels of analysis

(Ritzer 1992). However, the agency-structure problematic has no direct connection to issues of micro

versus macro since agency and structure are implicated at both levels of analysis.

2. See Benner et al. (1980), Davidson (1984), Des Pres (1976). Dimsdale (1980), Gallant and

Cross

(1992), Frankl (1959), Luchterhand (1967), Pawelcynska (1979), Pingel (1991). and Unger (1986).

3. See Segev (1993) for a consideration of how this view manifests itself in Israeli political and

memorial culture. For instance, the Yad Vashem museum in Jerusalem is designated as “The Memorial

Authority of the Holocaust and Heroism.”

4. Denzin (19 89a, p. 17) notes that life histories often rely on “conventionalized narrative expressions

. .

which structure how lives are told and written about.” My subjects implicitly relied on such conven-

tions and constructed narratives with a beginning and end, objective markers, turning points, and

epiphanies.


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of

the Holocaust

3 3

5.

Like other Holocaust survivors, Michael and Shlomo’s memories have been kept alive by the

“emotional reminders” of the postwar period (see Schmitt 1989). In the brothers’ case

I

believe the most

important reminder is the State

of

Israel itself and the threats they perceive to its well-being. Important

as well is their awa reness of those who deny that the Holocaust occurred (see Lipstadt 1993). Michael

also has the constant reminder of the concentration camp tattoo number on his arm, which people occa-

sionally ask about.

6.

These interviews were conducted in the summer of 1989 on a trip to Poland. I traveled with

Michael, who still speaks Polish and who served as a translator.

7. Th e potential for bias is often present in life history research, where it is not unusual for subjects

and observers to become close friends (Denzin 1970). I do not believe, however, that the brothers would

have been as willing to focus

on

as much detail from their experiences if the interview had been con-

ducted by an outsider,

8. Denzin (1989a, p. 83) reminds us “that

our

primary obligation is always to the people we study, not

to our project.

.

or discipline.

.

Their] lives and stories are given to us under a promise that

we protect those who have shared with us.”

9.

I

did some minor editing of the transcripts for grammar and clarity in order to maintain the focus

on the content

of

their experience rather than the style of their expression (see Blauner 1987; Coles 1975;

Helmreich 1992). Th e brothers also examin ed the edited document to ensure faithfulness to the original

account.

10. This observation should not be misconstrued as suggesting that religion was not important in

helping some Jews endure their suffering (see Gallant and Cross 1992; Wiesel 1960).

11.

According to historical accounts, the “final solution’’-the official Nazi policy of extermina-

tion-was not articulated until the later half of 1941 (Berger 1993; Marrus 1987).

12. At that time, another of Michael and Shlomo’s older brothers, Joshua, who had fought w ith the

Polish army, had not yet returned to Krosno.

13. By this time Joshua had returned (see note 12).

14. Perhaps Langer’s (1991, p. 124) distinction between “s el fi sh and “self-ish” acts best describes

the dilemm a. Selfish acts ignore others’ needs when the individual “is in a position to help w ithout

injuring one’s self in any appreciable way.” Self-ish acts, on the other hand, involve situations where one

“is unable to choose freely the generous impulse that a more compassionate nature yearns to express.”

15. As S artre (1956, pp. 480, 483) would have it, “my field of action is perpetually traversed by the

appearances and disappearances of objects with which I have nothing to do. Every free project

anticipates a margin of unpredictability due to the independence of things [and] a thousand foresee-

able and unforeseeable accidents . [that] constitute its meaning.”

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Documents

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