72 Man's Search for Meaning
life, also) and to the general irritability which was another
characteristic of the prisoners' mental state. The lack of
sleep was due partly to the pestering of vermin which in
fested the terribly overcrowded huts because of the general
lack of hygiene and sanitation. The fact that we had nei
ther nicotine nor caffeine also contributed to the state of
apathy and irritability.
Besides these physical causes, there were mental ones, in
the form of certain complexes. The majority of prisoners
suffered from a kind of inferiority complex. We all had
once been or had fancied ourselves to be "somebody." Now
we were treated like complete nonentities. (The conscious
ness of one's inner value is anchored in higher, more spir
itual things, and cannot be shaken by camp life. But how
many free men, let alone prisoners, possess it?) Without
consciously thinking about it, the average prisoner felt him
self utterly degraded. This became obvious when one ob
served the contrasts offered by the singular sociological
structure of the camp. The more "prominent" prisoners,
the Capos, the cooks, the store-keepers and the camp police
men, did not, as a rule, feel degraded at all, like the ma
jority of prisoners, but on the contrary—promoted! Some
even developed miniature delusions of grandeur. The men
tal reaction of the envious and grumbling majority toward
this favored minority found expression in several ways,
sometimes in jokes. For instance, I heard one prisoner talk
to another about a Capo, saying, "Imagine! I knew that
man when he was only the president of a large bank. Isn't it
fortunate that he has risen so far in the world?"
Whenever the degraded majority and the promoted
minority came into conflict (and there were plenty of op
portunities for this, starting with the distribution of food)
the results were explosive. Therefore, the general irritabil
ity (whose physical causes were discussed above) became
most intense when these mental tensions were added. It is
Experiences in a Concentration Camp 73
not surprising that this tension often ended in a general
fight. Since the prisoner continually witnessed scenes of
beatings, the impulse toward violence was increased. I my
self felt my fists clench when anger came over me while I
was famished and tired. I was usually very tired, since we
had to stoke our stove—which we were allowed to keep in
our hut for the typhus patients—throughout the nights.
However, some of the most idyllic hours I have ever spent
were in the middle of the night when all the others were
delirious or sleeping. I could lie stretched out in front of
the stove and roast a few pilfered potatoes in a fire made
from stolen charcoal. But the following day I always felt
even more tired, insensitive and irritable.
While I was working as a doctor in the typhus block, I
also had to take the place of the senior block warden who
was ill. Therefore, I was responsible to the camp authority
for keeping the hut clean—if "clean" can be used to de
scribe such a condition. The pretense at inspection to which
the hut was frequently submitted was more for the purpose
of torture than of hygiene. More food and a few drugs
would have helped, but the only concern of the inspectors
was whether a piece of straw was left in the center corridor,
or whether the dirty, ragged and verminous blankets of the
patients were tucked in neatly at their feet. As to the fate of
the inmates, they were quite unconcerned. If I reported
smartly, whipping my prison cap from my shorn head and
clicking my heels, "Hut number VI/9: 52 patients, two
nursing orderlies, and one doctor," they were satisfied. And
then they would leave. But until they arrived—often they
were hours later than announced, and sometimes did not
come at all—I was forced to keep straightening blankets,
picking up bits of straw which fell from the bunks, and
shouting at the poor devils who tossed in their beds and
74 Man's Search for Meaning
threatened to upset all my efforts at tidiness and cleanli
ness. Apathy was particularly increased among the feverish
patients, so that they did not react at all unless they were
shouted at. Even this failed at times, and then it took
tremendous self-control not to strike them. For one's own
irritability took on enormous proportions in the face of the
other's apathy and especially in the face of the danger (i.e.,
the approaching inspection) which was caused by it.
In attempting this psychological presentation and a
psychopathological explanation of the typical characteris
tics of a concentration camp inmate, I may give the impres
sion that the human being is completely and unavoidably
influenced by his surroundings. (In this case the surround
ings being the unique structure of camp life, which forced
the prisoner to conform his conduct to a certain set pat
tern.) But what about human liberty? Is there no spiritual
freedom in regard to behavior and reaction to any given
surroundings? Is that theory true which would have us be
lieve that man is no more than a product of many condi
tional and environmental factors—be they of a biological,
psychological or sociological nature? Is man but an acciden
tal product of these? Most important, do the prisoners'
reactions to the singular world of the concentration camp
prove that man cannot escape the influences of his sur
roundings? Does man have no choice of action in the face of
such circumstances?
We can answer these questions from experience as well as
on principle. The experiences of camp life show that man
does have a choice of action. There were enough examples,
often of a heroic nature, which proved that apathy could be
overcome, irritability suppressed. Man can preserve a
vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even
in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.
Experiences in a Concentration Camp 75
We who lived in concentration camps can remember the
men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving
away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in
number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can
be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human
freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of cir
cumstances, to choose one's own way.
And there were always choices to make. Every day, every
hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision
which determined whether you would or would not submit
to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very
self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not
you would become the plaything of circumstance, renounc
ing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of
the typical inmate.
Seen from this point of view, the mental reactions of the
inmates of a concentration camp must seem more to us than
the mere expression of certain physical and sociological
conditions. Even though conditions such as lack of sleep,
insufficient food and various mental stresses may suggest
that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the
final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the
prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and
not the result of camp influences alone. Fundamentally,
therefore, any man can, even under such circumstances, de
cide what shall become of him—mentally and spiritually.
He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration
camp. Dostoevski said once, "There is only one thing that I
dread: not to be worthy of my sufferings." These words
frequently came to my mind after I became acquainted
with those martyrs whose behavior in camp, whose suffering
and death, bore witness to the fact that the last inner free
dom cannot be lost. It can be said that they were worthy of
their sufferings; the way they bore their suffering was a
genuine inner achievement. It is this spiritual freedom—