Respecting the Reverence of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum
Yesterday, for the very first time, I visited the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. The Memorial Museum had been on my list of museums to visit since my first trip to DC in 7th Grade, and I am embarrassed it took me this long to visit such an important Museum. I have to believe that anyone you talk to, regardless of their race, religion or ethnic background, who has been to this Museum will tell you that from the moment you step inside it is a powerful experience which leave you in awe of the strength of the Jewish people in the face of imminent death just as I did after I left Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam.
Being a young Jewish woman with a family member who fled Austria and then Europe during World War II, this Museum has a deeply personal meaning to me. I arrived at the Museum knowing my visit would be a difficult experience and was ready to leave emotionally exhausted at the end of my visit. As the website recommends, I came prepared to spend over two hours inside the permanent exhibition and as it turns out that was an accurate recommendation as I spent just about 2.5 hours walking through the three floors of permanent exhibition space.
What I was not prepared for, however, was being able to take photos inside the Museum. While waiting for the elevator to take me, and the many other people waiting to see the exhibition, upstairs to the fourth floor to begin the self-guided tour, the Museum worker informed us that we were allowed to take pictures throughout the exhibition without flash. This really bothered me and came as quite a surprise. For some Museum visitors, myself included, this is a very solemn, and personal, visiting experience. The Memorial Museum is not like going and seeing your favorite painting at the National Gallery of Art. This space is about commemorating the millions of lives lost and forever altered by the atrocities committed by the Nazi’s and their followers. As the Museum’s mission states, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum “serves as this country’s memorial to the millions of people murdered during the Holocaust.” For me, this means that the Memorial Museum is a place meant for quiet contemplation and reverence for the artifacts on display not a place to take pictures at will. Even though photography was allowed in the Museum, and I knew I would be writing about my experience there for this blog, I couldn’t bring myself to take photographs inside. Any photographs on this post are taken directly from the Museum’s website.
While the Museum’s policy on photography initially put me off, I have to admit that I was extremely impressed with the permanent exhibition as well as the respect of the Museum visitors. After taking my ID card, which lent me the identity of a real person affected by the Holocaust, I arrived at the fourth floor to begin viewing the exhibition. Immediately in front of me was footage of a concentration camp the day it was liberated, a startling first image that shocked everyone around me into immediate silence. The rest of the fourth floor was dedicated to the rise of Nazism in Germany, and then the onslaught of war in Europe. As I moved down a relatively narrow hallway that had display cases on either side, I noticed that one woman next to me kept leaning to either side to take pictures of the artifacts on display such as a Nazi State Police uniform or a pile of books that would have been burned. I’m not quite sure what the purpose of taking those photos was. Maybe she wanted a reminder of what she saw, or maybe she took them in order to look at them more closely later since we were being moved like a pack down the hallway because of the sheer number of visitors? Either way, I was slightly annoyed that she kept getting in my way to take pictures of things that made me sick to my stomach.
As I moved through the rest of the floor, and the gallery spaces opened up more, I didn’t notice people taking pictures, but to be honest I was too focused on the destroyed Jewish artifacts around me to care what others around me were doing. In this aspect, the Memorial Museum does a phenomenal job in engaging its visitorship. I became so engrossed at looking at artifacts and reading about growing anti-Semitism that I hardly took into account what my fellow museum goers were doing. I do feel, however, that people were taking fewer photographs as we moved through the exhibition spaces.
This became blatantly obvious on the third floor entitled “The Final Solution.” This floor discussed the Nazi’s planned extermination of the Jewish race as well as other “unwanted” people in Nazi Europe. It was on this floor that I encountered what I see as the most moving artifacts in the exhibition.
About midway through the third floor, in galleries discussing the mass killing and gassing of Jews at concentration camps such as Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, there is a cattle car on tracks. This car is a replica of the type of car the Jews were crammed into and transported to their inhumane end. The placard just outside the car notes the train tracks are a section of those taken from Treblinka, one of the main extermination camps in Poland. Visitors are invited to walk through the car before continuing on to learn more about extermination camps. I chose to walk through the train car, but I could not bring myself to stand inside it for very long. It physically made me uncomfortable, which I am sure was the point. As I moved through this space, I cannot imagine someone stopping to take pictures of such an object. While such an object is worth remembering and experiencing, it seems inappropriate to take a picture of what was the cause of millions of people’s suffering and death and besides a photograph was unnecessary because the image will remain in my mind indefinitely.
Even more powerful than the train car was a room not too far way. This room was filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of pairs of shoes found at an extermination camp. As soon as I entered this room I broke into tears. The shoes were one of the few artifacts that were not behind glass casing and I could smell the must and old leather. It was such a familiar smell to me and to see such a vast mix of shoes covering the floor was too much for me after having been in the Museum 1.5 hours already. I stood in the middle of the room with tears running down my face as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing meant about humanity when a little boy came in with his parents and said with sheer amazement “Look at all of the shoes!” There was such a sense of innocence about this statement that brought my emotional heartbreak to another level and I realized I needed to keep moving through the Museum. As I moved into the next room, I noticed a man with a large camera hanging by his side. It was this moment that really brought home my discomfort with the Museum’s photography policy. Here I am, emotionally vulnerable with tears in my eyes and someone is able to take a picture of the room and capture my grief without my consent, even if I am not the intended subject.
I know I am not the only person who has cried their way through this space and I know I will not be the last. I would like to believe that most people recognize the reverence this Museum demands and make the conscious choice not to take photographs while inside, but the fact that it is even an option is troubling for me. I would be very interested to know the reasoning behind allowing photography inside the Museum when other Holocaust sites, such as the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, do not allow photography. Upon entering the Anne Frank House you are told in a compassionate way that out of respect for the visitors who will have an emotional reaction to their visit, it would be disrespectful to capture their grief in a photograph and it would diminish everyone’s experience. I hope there is an ideological reasoning that the Museum permit photography rather than a practical one. Just because it is easier on the Museum staff to allow photographs inside the Museum, does not mean it is right.