Conversations with Elie Wiesel (review)

When I was growing up in the 1950s, the Holocaust and its aftermath were not discussed in my home. My mother purposefully shielded me from knowing about the events of those years. Even in my small synagogue and at Sunday school, we did not talk about such issues—it simply wasn’t done. Today, as a Holocaust educator and a teacher of middle school teachers, I find myself continually re-examining the words of the man whose writings first enlightened me about the horror of that era, Elie Wiesel. For me he has become a spokesperson not only for the Holocaust but also perhaps for all of humanity. I have often thought how wonderful it would be to have a face-to-face conversation with this man, hearing his stories and sharing his thoughts about our existence in this world today. Reading Conversations with Elie Wiesel is the next best thing.

Conversations with Elie Wiesel is actually a collection of interviews (edited by Thomas Vinciguerra) conducted over a number of years by historian Richard Heffner. The hallmark principle embodied in these interviews is Wiesel’s belief that everything we do as human beings must be measured in personal moral terms. Guided by this moral compass, the reader journeys across a wide range of topics (eleven chapters in all) from “Am I My Brother’s Keeper?” and “The Anatomy of Hate” to “Nationalism and Upheaval.” What makes the reading even more interesting is not just “hearing” the words of Wiesel, but the conversations of two very good friends baiting one another with questions and often responding with further questions. Through this dialogue the reader begins to see various themes take shape. The lively discussions seem to take the reader by the hand to confront a myriad of issues, including capital punishment, the role of the state in today’s world, the function of political correctness in modern society, and the responsibilities of the intellectual in the public realm.

Throughout the text, Wiesel’s secular words become intertwined with his Judaic beliefs. While these strands of thought are often impossible to separate, they form the basis for the topic, “The Mystic Chords of Memory,” in which Wiesel admits that “the word ‘memory’ combines almost all my obsessions, all my priorities. . . . I am because of what I remember” (p. 146). He speaks of the Talmudic tradition that requires people to ask, “Where do I come from?” He then links this idea to the belief that he must always remember where he comes from, that in such memories he is not alone but rather surrounded by others, and that “what then is worse than to live without a future? It’s to live without a past” (pp. 150–151).

Through the idea of the past, Wiesel often revisits his memories of the Holocaust, sharing his belief that without memory the Jewish people would not have survived, would have gone under long ago. But he reminds the reader that these positive memories of a strong, moral Jewish tradition share the same mindspace with horrific memories, including those which sprang up after the years of the Holocaust when “we came out and we saw that life was business as usual and how very few people cared” (p. 153). As he begins to put closure on this topic, Wiesel reminds us of the shrinking number of Holocaust survivors and how over the years he has tried to inspire them to share their memories with their descendants. He reminds us why this challenge is so necessary when he writes, “I have said it so many times: To forget the victims means to kill them a second time. If there was one basic obsession that was common to all the victims, it was not to allow the world to forget what had happened. And that is our responsibility” (p. 168).

In between the chapters the reader will find “Interludes,” short, one-page reflections on a variety of topics the editors had trouble fitting into the thematic chapters...