Curzon’s Living Will

After years of debate, the Holocaust memorial in Berlin finally opened yesterday amid much fanfare. Hardly a dry eye could be seen among the throngs of politicians present for the opening ceremony. The monument, located in the center of the city, is a drab field of acre upon acre of concrete slabs—2,711 in total—tightly woven together. The purpose is to make an area that would “resonant with both the terror of German history and the vibrancy of today’s reunited Berlin.” I heard the architect speak on BBC World Radio this morning, where he said he hoped denizens would walk through the memorial on their way to work. That’s just what I need on my daily commute—a morbid reminder of the Nazi holocaust, what a cheery way to start my morning. Can you think of anything more dire in a modern urban landscape?

I’m appalled by this memorial on three levels. First, it is not healthy for Germans to be bombarded by a constant reminder of their Nazi past. It dehabilitates the national psyche, inviting self-loathing and doubt. Second, it’s ugly beyond belief. Why put a drab memorial like that in the middle of a city? It looks like an industrial graveyard. Don’t be surprised if Berlin’s suicide rate goes up with this thing keeping genocide on the brain. Third, the sheer ignorance of the people who dwell on this history boggles the mind. Statesman and public figures solemnly declare “never again,” apparently trying to convince themselves that their grave tone of voice alone is enough to stop future war crimes. When I question the incessant focus on the holocaust, I’m admonished that “those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it!” But it’s all a sick joke. Genocide in Darfur, civil war in the Congo, impending collapse in Nepal, the slow eradication of native culture in Tibet and Xinjiang, not to mention the disasters in Chechnya, Aceh, Burma, North Korea, Colombia, Uganda—and these are happening now. And yet no one feels the need to do anything. How do these people take themselves seriously?

If you’ve been to a modern funeral in the US or Britain, you have probably noticed that it’s common to ask friends of the deceased to not send flowers. Although it’s customary to show remorse with roses, we’re more progressive nowadays. The petals wilt in days, so why not put the money to better use? Today, the custom is to ask that a donation be made to a charity or cause in the name of the deceased. That, we believe, is a more constructive use of our money and it does more net good.

Those lessons can be applied on a larger scale, and I now make all my readers witness to my living will. If in the future I am the victim of a war crime, if I am collectivizated and starved to death, killed in a race riot, or ethnically cleansed from where I live, bring the perpetrators to justice and kill them. Then, remember me wisely. Don’t send flowers —and by that I mean don’t build an expensive, imposing stone memorial or teach the great great grandchildren of the people who killed me how bad their descendants were. Instead, make a donation —be proactive about killing bad guys. There would be no better justice than for the world to realize the only way to stop genocide and war crimes is to do something about it before, not after, and take out evil regimes with extreme prejudice. Make “never again” a reality.