It might come as a surprise to learn that there was ‘any semblance of art’ in Nazi concentration camps, as Viktor E Frankl writes in Man’s Search For Meaning (1946). But there was. Frankl describes the improvised ‘cabaret’ that took place in his camp:
A hut was cleared temporarily, a few wooden benches were pushed or nailed together and a programme was drawn up. In the evening those who had fairly good positions in the camp – the Capos and the workers who did not have to leave camp on distant marches – assembled there. They came to have a few laughs or perhaps to cry a little; anyway, to forget. There were songs, poems, jokes, some with underlying satire regarding the camp. All were meant to help us forget, and they did help. The gatherings were so effective that a few ordinary prisoners went to see the cabaret in spite of their fatigue even though they missed their daily portion of food by going.
Perhaps more surprising still, Frankl highlights the importance of humour in the camps, explaining that it was ‘another of the soul’s weapons in the fight for self-preservation’.
This year I have been reading a selection of autobiographical writings by Jewish survivors of the Holocaust. The six writers in question came from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds and different countries across Europe. Three survived concentration camps. The significance of art, creativity and cultural life is a theme that emerges implicitly and explicitly across the various texts, and this prompted me to reflect on wider questions about the value of the arts and the humanities.
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