Annual Holocaust remembrance in Poland highlights systemic failures in global justice and memory politics amid rising fascism

Indigenous frameworks of remembrance emphasize land-based justice and intergenerational healing, contrasting with the Polish-Israeli state’s focus on Auschwitz as a static memorial site. The Māori concept of *kaitiakitanga* (guardianship) offers a model where remembrance is tied to restoring balance, not just ritual. Roma communities, who lost over 500,000 members in the Holocaust, have long critiqued the erasure of their suffering in dominant narratives, demanding recognition of their resistance (e.g., the Romani Rose’s advocacy). The absence of these perspectives in the March of the Living reflects a broader colonial erasure of non-Western memory traditions.

The Holocaust occurred within a continuum of European fascism that included the Armenian Genocide (1915), the Herero and Nama genocide (1904–08), and the Rwandan Genocide (1994), all of which were enabled by international complicity. Poland’s role in the Holocaust was not limited to victimhood; Polish police and civilians participated in pogroms (e.g., Jedwabne, 1941), a history that the current government suppresses to align with its nationalist narrative. The March of the Living’s focus on Auschwitz obscures how post-WWII geopolitics (e.g., the Cold War, the creation of Israel) reshaped Holocaust memory to serve state interests rather than justice.

In Jewish tradition, remembrance is tied to *tikkun olam* (repairing the world), a concept that extends beyond mourning to active solidarity with other oppressed groups, such as Palestinians or African Americans. The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s model of restorative justice—centering survivor testimonies and reparations—offers a radical alternative to Poland’s state-centric memorialization. In contrast, the Polish government’s 2020 Holocaust law criminalizing speech about Polish complicity reflects a nationalist distortion of memory that mirrors how other regimes (e.g., Turkey’s denial of the Armenian Genocide) use history for political control.

Research in collective memory (e.g., Halbwachs, 1950) shows that national memory is often selective, emphasizing victimhood while suppressing perpetrator roles, a pattern evident in Poland’s Holocaust narrative. Neuroscience studies (e.g., Immordino-Yang et al., 2016) demonstrate that trauma-informed remembrance requires emotional engagement, not just symbolic rituals—something the March of the Living’s performative nature may lack. The commercialization of Auschwitz (e.g., 2.3 million visitors in 2019) raises questions about how tourism economies distort historical education, a phenomenon studied in dark tourism literature (e.g., Lennon & Foley, 2000).

Artists like Art Spiegelman (*Maus*) and Yoko Ono have reimagined Holocaust remembrance through fragmented, non-linear narratives that resist state-sanctioned myths. The Jewish concept of *l’dor v’dor* (from generation to generation) frames memory as a living dialogue, not a static monument—an idea echoed in the work of Polish artist Joanna Rajkowska, whose *Greener Grass* project critiques Poland’s selective memory. Spiritual traditions like Buddhist *karuṇā* (compassion) offer a framework for remembrance that transcends national boundaries, emphasizing shared humanity over victim-perpetrator binaries.

Scenario modeling suggests that without decolonizing Holocaust memory, far-right movements will continue to exploit historical trauma to justify authoritarianism, as seen in Hungary’s ‘illiberal democracy’ or Israel’s expansion of settlements under the guise of ‘security.’ A future where remembrance centers reparative justice (e.g., Germany’s *Wiedergutmachung* payments to survivors) could disrupt cycles of violence, but requires dismantling the tourism-memorial complex that profits from suffering. The rise of AI-generated deepfake Holocaust testimonies risks further distorting history, necessitating digital literacy and ethical frameworks for memory preservation.

Survivors like Elie Wiesel and Primo Levi warned against the commodification of the Holocaust, yet their critiques are sidelined in favor of state-sanctioned narratives. Roma activists, such as the late Romani Rose, have long demanded recognition of their genocide, but their voices are excluded from events like the March of the Living. Palestinian scholars (e.g., Edward Said) have drawn parallels between Holocaust memory and Zionist narratives of victimhood, arguing that both can be used to justify exclusionary policies. The erasure of these perspectives reflects a broader pattern where marginalized groups are denied agency in shaping historical narratives.