Rest In Peace, Miep Gies
I suppose it goes without saying that I was a bit of an odd child...am a bit of an odd child. I've always been fascinated by the sinister, the macabre, and have always sought out the nastiest bits of history. I was the only child in my elementary school classes who would not only read and re-read Anne Frank's diary, but who would actively seek out any books about the Holocaust, other genocides, and similar atrocities. Cheerfully assuming that other people shared my tastes in literature and thoughts, I would bring up the events of the Holocaust in casual conversation, only to realize that it was quite the opposite. In retrospect, my tastes probably weren't as strange and isolating as I had thought, because the, um, "Young Adult Holocaust" genre has become rather established, and there are scores of Holocaust and genocide scholars and experts in every sort of academic field imaginable. I first read "The Diary of Anne Frank" when I was eight or nine years old. That book acted as a gateway for me to the history, literature and testaments of the Holocaust for me- -so much that I completed an MA in War Studies, with a focus on genocide memory and denial. My teenage flair for the melodramatic, combined with a runaway imagination, would often will the unfathomable reality of over half a decade ago to seep into the reality of the present. I would examine every room in my house for the best places in which I could hide, or hide someone else. I'd hear a knock on the door, and imagine that a Nazi officer was standing there. All of this bizarre activity was a futile attempt to truly understand what it was like to hide and be the one who hid others; what it was like to be Anne Frank. What it was like to be Miep Gies, who was the last surviving member of the small group who helped hide Anne and her family, and, more famously, the woman who carefully saved Anne's diary in hopes of returning it to her at the end of the war.
Two weeks ago, Miep Gies passed away at 100 years of age, and so the last living connection to Anne was severed. The entire world mourned, especially the girls who loved reading Anne Frank's diary, for they would grow up to become adults who loved Miep Gies, and who hoped, if the situation called for it, would have the strength and character to do what she did. Some scholars posit that the reason why the story of Anne and her diary became so popular was because it was heavily edited to present a child-like, "I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart' innocence, and that her entries about her struggles with the other inhabitants of the Secret Annex, her musings on war and human nature, and how she considered herself to be an adult were toned down, in order to be more palatable to a wider audience. In some ways this is true, for many modern war films and even Holocaust films and literature, seem to undergo a feel-good, Hollywood-ized spin about how a cheery attitude, resourcefulness and an indomitable will can overcome any obstacle (re: Schindler's List, Jakob the Liar). This approach shies away from fully depicting the bleakness and despair of the Holocaust, and from attempting to answer the questions that continue to elude us: How did this happen? How could we LET this happen? Such are the difficulties in aestheticising something like the Holocaust. Although the very existence of the Holocaust affords us no convenient sense of closure or a fist-pumping, "triumph of the human spirit"-type of pleasant ending, the stories of the Annes and Mieps which later emerged give us a small bit of hope and belief in human resolve. They provided us with something, anything that was positive and redeeming, in the midst of an irredeemable "no man's land of the mind," as Eli Weisel once described Auschwitz and the Holocaust. I believe that is why the popularity of Anne's story continues to endure.
Although the monstrous dictates of the Second World War were created by world leaders and other People of Great Importance, there was no shortage of ordinary people willing to carry them out. Thankfully, there were also a handful of committed, ordinary individuals of limited means who were willing to risk everything and perform acts of extraordinary courage and kindness. Miep's story is not one of glorious triumph and heroic recognition. There were no tearful, happy reunions or movie-worthy moments of redemption. Miep's story is one defined by an unwavering sense of human duty and belief in the inherent humanity of others, as well as a quiet, humble courage. It speaks volumes that Miep didn't even read Anne's diary before handing it over to her father. As a society, we tend to think that it must be extraordinarily difficult to be a truly horrible person, even in times of war and chaos, but the truth is that it is extraordinarily difficult to be a truly good person, especially in times of war and chaos.
According to Miep Gies,"You don't have to be a hero to do your human duty...who is a hero? I was not. I was just an ordinary housewife and secretary."
A grateful and humbled world begs to differ. We should all strive to be so "ordinary."