Saturday, February 14, 2026

Why Thinking About Auschwitz Still Matters in a World Sliding Toward Conflagration

Why Thinking About Auschwitz Still Matters in a World Sliding Toward Conflagration by Maj (ret’d) CORNELIU, CHISU, CD, PMSC FEC, CET, P.Eng. Former Member of Parliament Pickering-Scarborough East In an age marked by war in Europe, violence in the Middle East, strategic rivalry in Asia, and the steady erosion of trust between great powers, it may seem counterintuitive—almost indulgent—to pause and reflect on Auschwitz. Yet it is precisely in moments of rising global tension that Auschwitz must remain present in our collective mind. Not as a symbol of the past, but as a warning about how the modern world breaks down. The liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau on 27 January 1945 revealed not only the depths of human cruelty, but something far more unsettling: that industrialized mass murder emerged from a world that considered itself civilized, rational, and technologically advanced. Auschwitz was not the product of chaos. It was the product of order without ethics, power without restraint, and politics divorced from human dignity. Those conditions are not relics of history. Today’s international environment is increasingly shaped by fear, grievance, and zero-sum thinking. Nations are rearming. Alliances are hardening. Compromise is portrayed as weakness. Political leaders speak less of shared responsibility and more of existential threats. This atmosphere—if left unchecked—does not simply raise the risk of war; it erodes the moral guardrails that prevent war from becoming something far worse. Auschwitz teaches us that global conflagration does not begin with tanks crossing borders. It begins with the slow normalization of dehumanization. From Dehumanization to Destruction The Holocaust did not start with gas chambers. It began with language that divided societies into “us” and “them,” with laws that excluded minorities from civic life, and with propaganda that framed human beings as dangers rather than neighbors. Once people are reduced to categories—racial, ethnic, religious, ideological—violence becomes administratively manageable. In today’s world, we see troubling echoes. Entire populations are described as collective threats. Civilian suffering is dismissed as inevitable. Atrocities are justified as necessities of security or history. Social media accelerates outrage while flattening nuance, rewarding the most extreme voices and punishing restraint. This is not to suggest equivalence with the Holocaust. History does not repeat itself mechanically. However, it does rhyme in dangerous ways. Auschwitz reminds us that once moral language collapses, technical arguments take over—and human lives become abstractions. Power Without Restraint Is the Real Enemy One of the most enduring lessons of Auschwitz is that the greatest danger to humanity is not ideology alone, but power unconstrained by law, ethics, and accountability. Nazi Germany did not lack institutions; it captured them. Courts, police, doctors, engineers, and civil servants all played roles in sustaining a system of mass murder. In today’s geopolitical climate, restraint is again under pressure. International law is treated selectively. Civilian protections are blurred. Human rights are framed as obstacles to security rather than its foundation. The erosion is gradual, but cumulative. Auschwitz stands as proof that when restraint collapses—when “necessity” overrides humanity—there is no natural stopping point. Violence escalates because nothing remains to contain it. Indifference and Delay Are Strategic Failures Another hard lesson of Auschwitz is that indifference is not neutral. The world did not lack information. Reports of mass killings circulated well before 1945. What was lacking was urgency and resolve. Today, early warnings of mass violence and humanitarian catastrophe are again plentiful. What remains inconsistent is the willingness to act early—before conflicts metastasize, before identities harden, before revenge becomes self-justifying. In a nuclear-armed world, this failure is no longer merely tragic; it is existential. Global conflagration today would not unfold over years. It could unfold in days. Remembering Auschwitz is therefore not an act of mourning alone. It is a strategic imperative. Democracy, Dignity, and Global Stability Auschwitz also exposes a dangerous illusion: that stability can be achieved by sacrificing dignity. History shows the opposite. When minorities are excluded, when dissent is crushed, when truth is subordinated to power, societies do not become stronger—they become brittle. Democracy is not just a domestic arrangement; it is a stabilizing force internationally. Systems that respect human dignity, minority rights, and the rule of law are less likely to externalize internal tensions through aggression. When those safeguards erode, conflict becomes a political instrument. The world’s current tensions are not only geopolitical; they are moral. The erosion of democratic norms and human rights is directly linked to rising instability. Memory as a Guardrail, Not a Ritual Commemorating Auschwitz—particularly through International Holocaust Remembrance Day—risks becoming hollow if it is confined to ritual. Memory matters only if it disciplines present behavior. This means resisting historical amnesia and denial, but also resisting complacency. The Holocaust was not inevitable. It was the result of decisions made—and not made—by individuals and states. That remains true of today’s crises. Education, honest public discourse, and institutional accountability are not luxuries in tense times. They are preventative tools. “Never Again” in an Age of Fragility “Never again” was never meant as a guarantee. It was meant as a warning that the conditions for catastrophe are always closer than we think. Auschwitz stands as the most extreme proof of what happens when fear, power, and ideology overwhelm restraint. In a world edging toward fragmentation, remembering Auschwitz is not about living in the past. It is about recognizing how quickly the present can unravel. The choice facing today’s leaders and citizens alike is stark: either recommit to human dignity as the foundation of security, or continue down a path where force replaces law and fear replaces responsibility. Auschwitz reminds us where that path leads. And in an age where global conflagration is no longer unthinkable, that reminder may be more urgent than ever.

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