Holocaust Memorial Day

David Pinto-Duschinsky Excerpts

Thursday 23rd January 2025 Commons Chamber

[David Pinto-Duschinsky (Hendon) (Lab)]

Each year, Holocaust Memorial Day serves as a powerful reminder of the horrors that humanity is capable of inflicting, and of where antisemitism can lead. For me, this day is not just a time to remember the 6 million Jews murdered across Europe, but an opportunity to reflect on their personal stories, including my own family’s. Critically, this day is also a chance to renew our solemn pledge, “Never again,” which has particular meaning for me and my family.

My father is a Holocaust survivor. He was born in Budapest in 1943. In spring 1944, after Nazi Germany invaded Hungary, he was herded, along with tens of thousands of other Jews, into the ghetto in Munkács, his mother’s hometown. Over just two months, more than 437,000 Hungarian Jews were deported to Auschwitz, the vast majority of whom were murdered. Many members of my family counted among their number and did not survive, but my father did and so did my grandmother, thanks to the extraordinary bravery of a woman named Maria. In a last desperate throw of the dice, my family entrusted my infant father to her care. She risked everything to smuggle him, and a short time later my grandmother, out of the ghetto just days before it was liquidated. Maria’s courage was extraordinary. Her willingness to risk her own freedom, and maybe even her own life, for a stranger and her child is a testament to the power of human decency even in the darkest of times.

I often think of what the last tearful meeting, where my great-grandparents bade farewell to my father, barely 10 months old, knowing that they would never see him again, must have been like. I think of my grandmother, forced to live under a false identity for the remainder of the war, not knowing what happened to her family. And I think of Maria, whom I never met and who I know little about, but to whom I owe so much. In these moments, the enormity of what happened hits me hardest.

A few years ago, I took my family to the Holocaust memorial at Yad Vashem. There, in its files of those who perished, I looked up my family on my father’s father’s side. Now, my name is pretty unusual, but among the names of those who were murdered I found literally hundreds of Duschinskys. I know I am not alone in that; my family’s story is far from unique. There are millions of Jewish families with stories like mine: stories of loss, trauma and persecution, but also of survival. And not just Jewish families; there are so many others—other victims of Nazi persecution, as well as survivors of the Rwandan genocide, and those in Bosnia, Darfur and Cambodia, who have similar stories to tell. Victims of hatred, victims of persecution, they are bound together by a common experience and a common humanity.

Holocaust Memorial Day is particularly important this year. It comes at a moment of dawning hope after 15 months of darkness, with the release of three hostages, including Emily Damari, and a ceasefire in Gaza. I pray for the safe release of all the hostages, for the ceasefire to be sustained, and for us to take the first steps towards a sustained peace.

But 27 January is also critically important this year because it marks the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. It is a hugely significant milestone. For those of us who know survivors, it will be the last major anniversary when we have them with us. In Hendon, we are enormously proud of the work of our local survivors, including Manfred Goldberg, Renee Salt, Vera Schaufeld, Peter and Marianne Summerfield, and my good friend Rabbi Bernd Koschland, all of whom have done so much work to raise awareness.

Yet with each anniversary, the Holocaust slowly but surely slips from living memory. As the generation of survivors passes on, so the responsibility falls upon us to ensure that their stories endure. The torch of remembrance is being passed and it is down to us, the people here today, to safeguard the memory of the Holocaust: to spread understanding, tell its stories and keep them alive for our children and grandchildren. This is not just about the numbers and statistics; we must remember the people, the families, the communities. We must speak for them and, where we can, make sure their stories and voices are heard, especially in an age when misinformation proliferates. When truth competes with a blizzard of distortions and lies, and when conspiratorial thinking and shrill rhetoric numbs us to true horror, we cannot rely on the facts of the Holocaust alone to speak for themselves. We must tell its stories insistently and repeatedly, and make sure they reach every ear.

That is why the work of the Holocaust Memorial Day Trust in running Holocaust Memorial Day is so important, and why the work of the Holocaust Educational Trust, the Association of Jewish Refugees and so many other charities is so vital. It is why the Government’s pledge to ensure that the Holocaust will be at the core of a national curriculum that is taught in every school is so welcome, as is the extra £2 million in funding for the HET. It is also why the deep personal commitment of the Prime Minister, seen in his strong advocacy and his recent trip to Auschwitz, is so critical.

This anniversary is not just about remembering. It is about reaffirming our collective commitment to the values that ensure such atrocities can never happen again. That is why the importance of Holocaust Memorial Day cannot be overstated. It is not only a time of reflection, but a time of vigilance and a time when we renew our vow to act, because, as history often reminds us, prejudice and bigotry are light sleepers. At a time when antisemitic incidents are up over 1,500%, we can see that hatred, particularly the world’s oldest hatred, is never fully vanquished. It must be fought and defeated anew with every generation.

In Britain, we take pride in our pluralistic society, a society where people are free to practice their religion, express their identity and live without fear of persecution, but we must always remember that those freedoms must never be taken for granted. They are the product of a long history of struggle and sacrifice, and they are something we must constantly protect and defend in our politics, our rhetoric and our daily lives. We can all play our part. This coming Monday, at 7 pm, I urge everyone who can to tune in to BBC One for the national ceremony of commemoration. At 8pm, I ask everyone to light a candle and put it in their window— a light in the darkness to keep memory alive.

The theme of this year’s Holocaust Memorial Day is “For a better future.” The path to a better future, one where tolerance and mutual respect trumps division and bigotry, lies in a steadfast defence of our values and a willingness to confront hate. The foundation of this determination in turn rests on our collective remembrance of the Holocaust and our determination to tell its stories and echo its truth down the generations. I know something about that, because that is the path my family trod. It seems unlikely that a baby boy in a ghetto leaving his family in the arms of a stranger might be on a path to a better future, but because of their decency and bravery he found his way to a place of safety. He travelled to a new country that was a bastion of those values, a country in which his son was able to carry his family name, a name that was on the verge of extinction, into Parliament and sit surrounded by so many colleagues whose own family stories are marked by hardship and oppression. That is why I am so proud to sit here and to be a co-sponsor of this debate. The lesson this journey teaches us is that a path to a better future is possible if we work together to build it. On this Holocaust Memorial Day, we should renew our determination to strive to build it every day.

[Madam Deputy Speaker (Judith Cummins)]

I call the Liberal Democrat spokesperson.