Robert B. Simpson: The 'humanness' of human guilt

I have plenty of personal knowledge of what we call "guilt," which is often a combination of shame, remorse, regret, embarrassment, and sometimes the belief that one has violated his own or society's moral code. What I don't have is much knowledge of how to prevent it or cure it. And I am puzzled by how acutely some feel it and are deeply affected by it, while others seem able to shrug it off without pain or other negative effect.

When I read about Ebeling's years of torment, it happened that I had for several evenings been viewing a documentary about Auschwitz, the infamous Nazi death camp. During its 4 ½ years of existence, 1,300,000 human beings were sent there, and 1,100,000 died there. One million were Jews, and the others were Jehovah's Witnesses, Gypsies, homosexuals, mentally handicapped, or members of any group considered by the Nazis to be undesirable. They were worked to death, starved to death, killed by medical experimentation, shot, clubbed, gassed. Among the first to be killed from each arriving trainload were the children, some 200,000 in all.

The SS personnel who staffed and ran Auschwitz, and its satellite, Birkenau, apparently considered it good duty, far better than fighting Russians on the Eastern Front. The camp commander, Lieutenant Colonel Rudolph Hoess, lived well with his wife and children in a comfortable home on the grounds. The guards and other lower ranks nightly enjoyed dinners of rich and plentiful food and drink while, just yards away, hundreds of humans were starving. Many of the SS happily stuffing themselves had earlier that day shot innocent prisoners, bashed small children's brains out, or dropped Zyklon-B down chutes into the gas chambers from which they could hear the screams of hundreds of innocents being killed.

Of the several thousand SS troops who worked at Auschwitz and survived the war, only 800 were ever prosecuted. No doubt some of those who worked there felt guilt later for their actions, but apparently a significant number did not. Reading transcripts of interrogations, one is struck by the repeated use of "I was following orders," or similar verbal shrugs.

Lieutenant Colonel Hoess showed no sense of guilt when interrogated, was very matter-of-fact in his responses, and in fact seemed proud of the efficient manner in which he had done his job. A special gallows was built just for him at Auschwitz, and he was hanged there in April 1947.

A young SS trooper, Oskar Groening, had worked in a bank before the war, so he was put in charge of counting, recording, and securing the valuables taken from the prisoners, everything from jewelry to furs to cash to gold fillings from their teeth. He siphoned off some for himself and delivered the bulk of it to Berlin periodically. He ate well, drank well, and lived comfortably. When the documentary was being filmed, Groening, now a white-haired, grandfatherly figure, was asked if he didn't feel guilty, remembering how well he had lived while thousands were starving and dying close by. His answer? "Absolutely not."

He went on to explain, with confident arrogance, that everyone had to look out for themselves, and that was what he had done. He felt no remorse. Many others have reacted similarly.

I was puzzled by the difference between Ebeling and the Nazis. Then it hit me. Ebeling considered the shuttle crew, risking their lives, his fellow humans. The Nazis, on the other hand, had been convinced by their leaders that they were a super race, and that their victims were a completely separate, sub-human bunch. It's relatively easy to act harshly against those with whom you feel no kinship and no equality.

Fortunately, I thought, that could never happen here. We're an advanced civilization. We are exceptional, our system based on the proposition that all people are created equal. We would never let ourselves be led into mistreating whole categories of other humans. We would never be like the Germany of old.

My pleasant conclusion was shaken, though, when I remembered that the Germany of old was one of the most advanced of nations. The Germany that produced World War II and some of the most hideous mass crimes in history had also produced some of the world's top scientists, the world's leading composers, philosophers, writers and poets. But surely it couldn't happen here. You suppose?

Robert B. Simpson, a 28-year Infantry veteran who retired as a colonel at Fort Benning, is the author of "Through the Dark Waters: Searching for Hope and Courage."

This story was originally published March 5, 2016 at 8:51 PM with the headline "Robert B. Simpson: The 'humanness' of human guilt ."