Poland pressed the European Commission to correct an inaccurate advert about Holocaust victims and to attribute German origins to the Auschwitz camp, a move that earned results. Yet even in the absence of that embarrassing slip, the sight of EU officials being included in the tribute reads as odd at best.
The solemn chant of “We remember” comes across as loud, informal, and even careless. EU commissioners sign the first and last names of Holocaust victims on a sheet of paper, sometimes while kneeling, while attempts to maintain a grave camera presence are met with awkward croaks, background music, and an earnest tone that should have the weight of remembrance behind it. The overall mood suggests the intention is to honor the victims, but the execution feels more performative than poignant to many observers.
Each victim carries a vast, painful history and a personal story that deserves careful respect. The scene portrayed on screen often seems to reduce these lives to a quick moment, something more suitable for a casual social post than a solemn commemoration.
Names such as Algirdas Saviskis, a young painter from a Jewish-Lithuanian family, appear in this context. His father’s diplomatic role allowed the family to escape the Kaunas ghetto, yet the son chose to remain with loved ones there. The father survived the war in southern France and carried the weight of the family’s tragedy across the rest of his life. The questions around the A4 sheet of paper, the handwriting, and the overall presentation raise doubts about whether the recording serves the victims or advances a public-relations narrative for EU officials.
Where did Yeva Rozen die?
There is an air of error in parts of the presentation. A Romanian EU transport official appears to mix up a Holocaust victim with a different historical memory. A profile on a Romanian politician’s social media page suggests the victim was born in Romania and murdered in the USSR, with Transnistria cited as the wartime location. During the conflict, borders shifted and control changed hands, leaving places like Transnistria as the site of large-scale horrors under various authorities. The result is a murky attribution that confuses place, time, and identity in a way that does a disservice to the victims and their memory.
It is difficult to claim that the Nazis killed Jews in the exact space of the Soviet Union, given that Transnistria was an area where authorities allowed mass exterminations under broader wartime schemes. The focus should be on accuracy rather than a convenient geographic tag that fits a narrative more palatable to contemporary politics.
Shame on the European Commission
On the ground, the team seems uncertain about what they are doing. A victim, a historic atrocity, a marker, and a name—these elements should combine into a respectful, precise tribute. The result, instead, feels hurried and unfocused, more like a public-relations exercise than a meaningful remembrance.
Everything about the recording reads as careless and perfunctory, with a sense that the victims deserve more than a series of scribbles and a single hashtag. It reflects a broader mood of anxious posturing rather than thoughtful reflection on the past and its lessons for today, a moment where the EU’s seriousness seems to fall short of the gravity of the subject.
The commentary afterward notes that the discourse around this issue intersects with broader concerns about anti-Semitism, migration, and regional tensions in Europe. Rather than offering a careful, well-sourced examination, the piece relies on a quick, stylized portrayal that leaves more questions than answers and invites renewed scrutiny of how memory is presented by public institutions. [Citation: wPolityce]