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School community marks HMD2025

The Barney school community came together in sombre reflection today to mark Holocaust Memorial Day.

Led by Headmaster David Cresswell, two of our Year 13s – Euan and Charlotte – spoke movingly on the subject, enlightening their peers on the scale of horror inflicted in Nazi Germany during the Second World War and genocidal conflict further afield.

Two further Year 13s led on vocals and in prayer. Bella’s rendition of Après un rêve by Gabriel Fauré was powerfully evocative and Sylvan took the senior school through two minutes’ silence and then A Holocaust Prayer by Philip Hall.

Mr Cresswell included his own personal reflection having grown up in Berlin and Prague during his childhood as the son of a British diplomat. He shared with the students: “With a German mother and an English father, the history of the Holocaust is something that has been with me from an early age. It is not only a history lesson but a deeply personal story – a reminder of the responsibility we all share to confront prejudice, to challenge hate, and to uphold the values of justice and humanity.”

Headmaster’s address

Mr Cresswell’s address to the Senior School Assembly on Holocaust Memorial Day, 27^th January 2025:

Good morning, everyone, 

 Today, as we gather to mark Holocaust Memorial Day, we join countless others around the world in remembering the millions of lives lost during one of the darkest chapters in human history. HMD 2025 will be a particularly significant year as we mark 80 years since the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau. It is a time for reflection, learning, and a collective commitment to ensuring that the atrocities of the past are never repeated. 

 For me, this day has a profound personal resonance. Amongst other cities, I grew up in Berlin and Prague, cities deeply intertwined with Jewish history. As a child, I was often surrounded by reminders of the vibrant Jewish communities that once thrived there – and of the devastating losses they suffered. 

 I still vividly recall visiting the Jewish Cemetery in Prague when I was just nine years old. It was a haunting sight: the gravestones crowded together, leaning at odd angles, jagged and fractured as if echoing the shattered lives they represent. To me, later when I understood more, they evoked images of Kristallnacht, that infamous night of broken glass, when Jewish homes, synagogues, and businesses were destroyed across Nazi Germany. 

 With a German mother and an English father, the history of the Holocaust is something that has been with me from an early age. It is not only a history lesson but a deeply personal story – a reminder of the responsibility we all share to confront prejudice, to challenge hate, and to uphold the values of justice and humanity. 

As we reflect today, let us not only honour the memory of those who perished but also commit ourselves to the lessons that history demands we learn. 

 With that, before we move into listening to a piece of music, I’d like to invite us all into a time of thoughtful reflection, as we remember and consider the importance of building a future free from hatred and discrimination. 

(A personal reflection) 

There have been four times in my life when I have visited a former concentration camp. Twice to Terezín in the Czech Republic, once to Sachsenhausen just outside Berlin, and another time to Dachau near Munich. I was still a child on my visits to Terezín, and it left a lasting impression on me. Years later, as an adult and a teacher, I stood in the freezing yard of Dachau in February half-term, leading a group of students. I was wrapped in thick winter clothing, yet I could hardly keep warm. It was impossible not to think about the unimaginable conditions endured by those held there during the harsh winters, often with little more than rags for protection. I really was cold to the core. 

 However, today I want to share a different experience – one that comes from my time as a tour guide in Berlin. For a year, I led three-hour walking tours through the city, starting at Pariser Platz and weaving through sites steeped in history. One of the stops was the Holocaust Memorial, right in the heart of Berlin. 

 The memorial, made up of 2,711 concrete blocks of varying heights, forms a maze-like structure that is both disorienting and deeply thought-provoking. Walking through it, the ground rises and falls, and while it might feel warm on the outside, stepping into the heart of the memorial—even in summer – brings a distinct chill. 

 In that year, I walked through the memorial over 200 times, each time leading a group. Before entering, I would pause on the American Embassy side and invite them to reflect as they walked through, asking them to consider its meaning. On the other side, I would ask for their thoughts. The incredible thing was that, despite the number of times I repeated this process, I always heard new interpretations. 

 Some people described the oppressive feeling of the towering blocks as evoking fear or isolation. Others spoke about how the uneven ground mirrored the instability and uncertainty of life during those times. What struck me most was how deeply personal and varied their reflections were. This, I believe, is one of the memorial’s most profound aspects: it engages each person differently, challenging them to confront the past in their own way. 

 I would also remind my groups to approach the memorial with respect, as it stands as a solemn tribute to the millions of lives lost. This sense of reverence was often juxtaposed starkly with another site on the tour: the location of Hitler’s bunker. It is now a car park, with just a small sign providing minimal acknowledgment of what once stood there. 

That contrast – the thoughtful, reflective space of the Holocaust Memorial compared to the understated marker of Hitler’s bunker – sends a powerful message. One site honours memory, challenges understanding, and invites reflection. The other offers no glorification, no grandeur – just a factual acknowledgment, devoid of ceremony or reverence. 

This message is deeply relevant to all of us here at Barney because it reminds us of the power of our actions and the way we treat one another. The Holocaust was not just a moment of catastrophic violence – it was the result of everyday prejudice, intolerance, and silence that went unchallenged.  

 In our school community, we have a responsibility to ensure that everyone feels valued, respected, and safe. Small acts of kindness and courage in standing up for what is right can make an enormous difference. 

 Just as the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin invites reflection on the importance of empathy and humanity, so too should we reflect on how we speak to and about others, how we support those who may feel excluded, and how we create an environment where everyone belongs. It is in these seemingly small, everyday actions that we honour the lessons of the past and build a better future. 

I can give you an example of how to get this wrong. We have a community of German internationals at our school. There are two ways to mishandle interactions about the Holocaust with our German students: one is to make fun of anyone of German or Jewish heritage about this history; the other is to feel that you cannot engage on the topic at all. Instead, the best approach is to engage thoughtfully and respectfully with all who wish to learn from history. 

These experiences have taught me the importance of how we choose to remember. They remind us that memory is not just about recalling the past but about shaping how we think and act in the present. As we reflect today, let us ensure that the lessons of history guide us in building a future where such atrocities are never repeated. 

Euan (Year 13) address:

The Holocaust: we hear this word a lot, however many people do not know what it means, a Holocaust is a destruction or slaughter on a mass scale. The Holocaust was truly dark time for minorities under Nazi rule, in the years 1941-1945. However, we must remember that this wasn’t just Jews it was also Roma gypsies, disabled individuals, homosexuals, political prisoners and many more.

The Nazis called this the “final solution”; in this, they aimed to annihilate all Jews in Europe. They saw this as an industrial size genocide, and from this, the famous camps were created with the most famous of all being Auschwitz Birkenau. 510,000 people died here during WW2; to put this into context, this is the population of Darlington killed 5 times over.

In the 1930s, the Nazis began their persecution of anyone they saw as “subhuman”; they were not seen as racily pure, and with this they implemented the Nuremburg laws in 1935. These laws stripped Jews and other minorities within Germany (initially) of their citizenship, reducing them to the status of subjects as they believed that the only people who deserved citizenship were citizens who were racially pure and loyal to the Nazi regime.

The first violent event conducted by the Nazis was Kristallnacht or the night of broken glass; this tragic event occurred in early November of 1938. Nazis targeted synagogues, businesses and homes of Jewish people. On this one night, 7,500 businesses were destroyed and hundreds of synagogues burned down.

Alongside the mass destruction of Jewish property, there was over 30,000 arrests and at least 91 Jews killed. This one night marked the shift towards social and economic discrimination against the Jewish people of Europe, we saw this in 1941 when it became mandatory for all Jews over 6 to wear the yellow star of David which singled out the Jewish people of Europe, this was the Nazis step towards stripping them of their humanity and rights.

Although Auschwitz Birkenau is the most famous camp for the atrocities it caused, what many people don’t realise is that there were over 1,200 concentration camps across Europe, established by the Nazis. These camps stemmed from extermination camps like Auschwitz to concentration camps like Buchenwald which primarily were used to imprison people who were seen as undesirable to the Nazi regime.

Below is an account of General Dwight Eisenhower’s after Buchenwald was discovered by US soldiers in 1945 and he visited it himself. “The things I saw beggar description, the visual evidence and the verbal testimony of starvation, cruelty and bestiality were so overpowering as to leave me a bit sick.”

Eisenhower opened the eyes of the public to the atrocities that were occurring at these camps and the world began to realise the true devastation that the Nazi regime caused across Europe on these people. This attack on minorities within Europe was not on criminals; it was on men, women and children fuelled by the hatred and spite of one man.

He blamed the Jews for Germany’s problems, from the defeat of WW1 to the economic struggles during the 1920s and 30s in Germany. He saw them as “subhuman” as he sought to create a racially pure society dominated by the Aryan race. His fascination with racial purity and constant want for power made the Holocaust a horrifying consequence of his ideology and beliefs.

The final solution revealed the dangers of unlocked hatred, systematic racism and the true consequences of totalitarian regimes.

Charlotte (Year 13) address:

For myself and many of you listening, we all acknowledge the horrors and devastation caused by the Holocaust. Yet, truly understanding the depth of suffering and the scale of loss can be difficult in a society where history often feels distant and disconnected from everyday life.

I would like to share the story of Iby Knill. Born in 1923, Iby grew up in an educated, cultured family in Czechoslovakia. Religion played little part in her childhood, and she thrived at a German grammar school. But after the Nazis occupied the country, everything changed. Jewish students were forced into separate schools, and Iby was required to wear the yellow star, which she tried to hide under her scarf.

When young Jewish women started being rounded up, her parents arranged for her escape. In February 1942, she cycled and walked through freezing conditions before crawling across no[1]man’s-land into Hungary. Once there, her aunt was too afraid to help, so she hid with her cousin Marton.

Later, Iby stayed with a solicitor who was part of the Hungarian resistance. She used her language skills to help Allied airmen escape, but the group was caught. She spent time in prison before being arrested again and sent to a refugee camp, where she volunteered as a nurse to survive.

In 1944, Iby was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau. She was shaved, given a uniform, and subjected to medical experiments. Her fluency in German helped her communicate with guards and secure better rations, but it did not protect her from the horrors of the camp. After six weeks, she volunteered for a slave labour transport to an armament factory in Germany, where she and her friends subtly sabotaged their work.

In March 1945, they were forced on a death march to Bergen-Belsen. Anyone who lagged behind was shot. Iby, suffering from an infection, credited her friends for helping her survive. On Easter Sunday 1945, they were finally liberated by the American army.

After the war, Iby worked as a translator for the Allied Military Government in Germany. In 1946, she married Bert Knill, a British officer, and moved to England. They raised a family and built a new life together.

It took Iby 60 years to speak about her experiences. She believes she survived to bear witness, hoping people will listen and learn.

Today, on International Holocaust Memorial Day 2025, as we reflect on this year’s theme, “For a Better Future,” we must ask ourselves: have we done enough? Have we, as a global community, really honoured the memory of the six million Jews?

Consider this: since the end of World War II, over 50 million lives have been lost to genocide and mass atrocities worldwide. The Rwandan genocide in 1994 saw the slaughter of nearly 800,000 people in just 100 days. The Bosnian genocide of the 1990s claimed the lives of over 8,000 men and boys in Srebrenica. These are not just numbers – these are human lives, that were cut short.

In recent times, we have witnessed a troubling resurgence of antisemitism both in the United Kingdom and around the world. In 2023, there were 4,103 antisemitic incidents in the UK, the highest ever reported in a calendar year, marking a 147% increase compared to 2022. This alarming rise is only continuing.

Globally, the situation is equally concerning. In Australia, authorities are investigating whether foreign actors are funding local criminals to commit antisemitic crimes, following a surge in attacks, including the firebombing of a childcare centre near a synagogue in Sydney.

These incidents are part of a disturbing pattern that echoes the hatred that led to the Holocaust.

We must ask why. Why, despite the creation of international laws, the United Nations, and institutions dedicated to peace, do such tragedies persist? The truth is that remembrance alone is not enough; remembrance must inspire action.

 For today though, and to close this part of our memorial service, we ask you to reflect on why it is important to be upstanders, to do the right thing, and to remember.

By remembering today, we show our respect to those thousands of lost lives. We remember them; they are gone, but not forgotten.