The death of Elie Wiesel has been celebrated by the controlled media as almost the passing of a saint—but in reality, Wiesel was a proven holocaust hoaxer, and an extreme Zio-racist who celebrated the murder and expulsion of Palestinians.
His book Night—supposed to be a “memoir” of his experiences in Auschwitz and Buchenwald, has been shown even by Jewish sources to be fiction.
An October 2014 article by the editor of the famous political newsletter CounterPunch, Alexander Cockburn, titled “Truth and Fiction in Elie Wiesel’s ‘Night,’” was introduced by co-editor Jeffrey St. Clair as follows:
Though Wiesel offers himself as a paragon of moral virtue, the truth is somewhat seamier. As detailed in this myth-shattering piece by Alexander Cockburn from the February 2006 print edition of CounterPunch, Wiesel assiduously campaigned for the Nobel Prize and has for decades tried to pass off his short book Night as a true account—a “testimony” in his words—of his experiences at Auschwitz, even though key scenes in the book have been exposed as fiction.
The article also pointed out that in 2014, Wiesel, a “self-appointed moral conscience for Holocaust survivors,” praised the expulsion of Palestinians from their homes to make way for yet more illegal Jewish settlements in Jerusalem.
Cockburn went on to point out that “The trouble here is that in its central, most crucial scene, Night isn’t historically true, and at least two other important episodes are almost certainly fiction.”
As Cockburn pointed out, many Jewish publications warned at the time of Night’s first appearance in English that it was fiction rather than factual.
“There were articles in the Jewish Forward and in the New York Times, also a piece on NPR, saying that Night should not be taken as unvarnished documentary,” Cockburn writes.
In the Forward article, published January 20, challengingly titled “Six Million Little Pieces?”, Joshua Cohen reminded Forward readers that in 1996, Naomi Seidman, a Jewish Studies professor at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California, had compared the original 1956 Yiddish version of the book with the subsequent, drastically edited translation.
“According to Seidman’s account, published in the scholarly journal Jewish Social Studies,” Cohen wrote, “Wiesel substantially rewrote the work between editions”—suggesting that the strident and vengeful tone of the Yiddish original was converted into a continental, angst-ridden existentialism more fitting to Wiesel’s emerging role as an ambassador of culture and conscience.
Most important, Seidman wrote that Wiesel altered several facts in the later edition, in some cases offering accounts of pivotal moments that conflicted with the earlier version.
(For example, in the French, the young Wiesel, having been liberated from Buchenwald, is recuperating in a hospital; he looks into a mirror and writes that he saw a corpse staring back at him. In the earlier Yiddish, Wiesel holds that upon seeing his reflection he smashed the mirror and then passed out, after which “my health began to improve.”)
The CounterPunch article then goes on to quote concentration camp survivor, Eli Pfefferkorn, who worked with Wiesel for many years, and Raul Hilberg, who is claimed to be the “world’s leading authority on the Nazi Holocaust” and author of the three-volume book The Destruction of the European Jews.
Wiesel, Cockburn says, personally enlisted Hilberg to be the historical expert on the United States Holocaust Commission.
“If absolute truth to history is the standard, Pfefferkorn says, then Night doesn’t make the grade. Wiesel made things up, in a way that his many subsequent detractors could identify as not untypical of his modus operandi: grasping with deft assurance what people important to his future would want to hear and, by the same token, would not want to hear.”
Pfefferkorn spent some time working with Wiesel on the conceptual design of the Holocaust museum in Washington DC. Pfefferkorn’s “uncritical admiration” for Wiesel changed after being in close contact with him, Cockburn writes, quoting him as follows:
In Night, Pfefferkorn isolates a number of episodes in which he makes a convincing case that Wiesel dumped truth in favor of fiction.
Two instances cited by Pfefferkorn in particular involve a boy playing a violin amidst a “death march,”—supposedly when Jews were “forced” to flee the advancing Russians—and the second is one of Night’s most famous scenes, the hanging of three inmates.
Of the first episode, Pfefferkorn writes:
“The story of the ‘violin episode’ takes place during the death march from Auschwitz to Buchenwald with a short gap at Gleiwitz in January of 1945. Mercilessly driven by the SS guards, stragglers were shot at and shoved to the side road. The columns of inmates arrived in Gleiwitz, after having dragged themselves through the snow-swept roads in freezing temperatures for about fifty kilometers. Immediately upon arrival, they were herded into barns. Drained, they dropped to the floor — the dead, the dying and the partially living piled one on the other.
“Under this heap of crushed humanity laid Juliek, cradling a violin, which he has carried all the way from Auschwitz to Gleiwitz. Eliezer, somehow, stumbles on Juliek, “…the boy from Warsaw who played in the band at Buna… ‘How do you feel, Juliek?’ I asked, less to know the answer than to hear that he could speak, that he was alive. ‘All right, Eliezer … I’m getting on all right … hardly any air … worn out. My feet are swollen. It’s good to rest, but my violin…’
“Eliezer — the inmate — wonders, ‘What use was the violin here?’ Wiesel — the memoirist — does not find it necessary to give an answer to the question. Such an answer, I assume, should be of interest to the reader for if Wiesel were to provide an answer, the veracity of the story would dissolve like the morning mist in the Sinai desert. Maintaining hold on a violin as one marched the March of Death is highly improbable. However, a violin in the midst of human debris strains the imagination and questions memory.
How did Juliek hold on to the violin on the death journey? Deprived of food and drink, when each step stubbornly refused to follow the next one, how did Juliek manage to clutch the violin in his numb fingers, let alone play Beethoven on it? Would the SS escorts have let him keep it?
(Also, as an Irish reader of a draft of this article remarked to me: “as a professional musician, who has played a wide variety of string instruments for 40 years, including fiddle, guitar, banjo, and mandolin, I immediately thought, How did the violin strings survive the severely cold temperatures and the long march? It’s a minor point perhaps, but very improbable, especially since it was 1945 and they were not modern strings.”)
“Obviously, Wiesel’s putative memoir, written while on a boat to Brazil, is but a recollection of experiences seen through the eye of his creative imagination. And yet, the melancholy melodies that came out of Juliek’s violin were the first strains of a myth orchestrated by Wiesel and his disciples, over a period of thirty years.”
Another major scene in Night, one that contributed hugely to the book’s success in the West, and its impact on many Christians, starting with Francois Mauriac, was the execution of three inmates in the Buna work camp, Cockburn continues.
As Pfefferkorn writes, “The fascination of Christian theologians with the Wiesel phenomenon must be traced back to a hanging that the 16-year-old Eliezer witnessed in Auschwitz.”
In the incident, two adults and a little boy are being led to the gallows. The little boy refused to betray fellow inmates who have been involved in an act of sabotage; to protect his fellow inmates, the boy is willing to pay with his life. Each one climbs to his chair and his neck is slipped into the rope’s noose.
Someone asks “Where is God?” and the answer is “hanging here on this gallows.”
Cockburn writes that this “graphically described hanging scene has been etched into the imagination of the Christian theologians because of the numerous parallels to the Crucifixion of Jesus.”
However, Cockburn then goes on to interview Hilberg about Wiesel’s truthfulness in describing the scene—and Hilberg’s answer is illuminating:
“I have a version of the hanging from an old survivor with the names of all three adults.” That survivor had said that there was no boy among the three.
Hilberg mentioned this in a review of Night, in which, he told me, “I made no secret of our differences. But whereas it [the age of the central figure in the hanging] may seem somewhat small, it makes a very big difference to Christians, particularly Catholics, because it’s very clear that mystics are intensely interested in the scene because it seems to replicate the crucifixion. It made a considerable impact. So the fact that this figure may not have been a boy at all is disturbing.”
“It would appear,” Hilberg went on, “from the record I have, that some witnesses have questioned whether this scene took place at all. I have a long statement by an older man, a man whom I judge to be quite trustworthy, though one must always remember that things are sometimes observed or heard about later. I talked recently to a survivor of that section of the camp who said it [the hanging of the three] didn’t take place, but maybe it took place earlier. I don’t know.”
In an article in The Nation magazine, Christopher Hitchens revealed more of Wiesel’s background:
Is there a more contemptible poseur and windbag than Elie Wiesel? I suppose there may be. But not, surely, a poseur and windbag who receives (and takes as his due) such grotesque deference on moral questions.
Wiesel was, Hitchens revealed, a “member of Menachem Begin’s Irgun in the 1940s, when that force employed extreme violence against Arab civilians and was more than ready to use it against Jews.”
As other evidence of Wiesel’s hypocrisy on “moral matters,” Hitchens goes on to write:
In 1982, after Gen. Ariel Sharon had treated the inhabitants of the Sabra and Shatila camps as target practice for his paid proxies, Wiesel favored us with another of his exercises in neutrality. Asked by the New York Times to comment on the pogrom, he was one of the few American Jews approached on the matter to express zero remorse. “I don’t think we should even comment,” he said, proceeding to comment bleatingly that he felt “sadness—with Israel, and not against Israel.” For the victims, not even a perfunctory word.
Finally, it is well known that Wiesel may not have been in any of the camps at all. He claimed repeatedly that he had been tattooed at Auschwitz with number A7713 on his left forearm.
However, numerous photographs of Wiesel with his sleeve rolled up have shown that he had no tattoos at all, and certainly no “Auschwitz” number—casting a question mark over his entire “holocaust memoir” claims.
All these facts are, however, likely to be ignored by the controlled media and their lackeys over the next few days, as they all rush to pay tribute to someone whose “holocaust memoirs” are rejected as false even by those on his own side.