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It is possible to live in a twilight between knowing and not knowing.
The issues of knowing and not knowing permeate the Holocaust on numerous levels. On the level of political decision making, let there be no doubt that the degree of knowing of available information had a far-reaching impact on the course of historical events during World War II (Laqueur, 1980). On the level of personal experience to which we as clinicians have access, the conflict around knowing the Holocaust is ubiquitous. There is the survivor's claim to privileged knowledge by virtue of his experience—“I know the truth about people,” “I know something about human nature that others don't”—as well as the question that haunts the survivor, “How could the world countenance the Holocaust by pretending not to know?” (Langer, 1982). There is the perpetrator's disclaimer, “I didn't know,” and subsequent generations' question to victims, “Why didn't you know?” There is our admiring query of the few resisters to evil, “How did you know (how to act)?” and the question posed now, as we contemplate future genocides