V.Frankl – Man’s Search for Meaning

With to a enceinteer extent(prenominal) than 4 million copies in strike in the English language al atomic yield 53, Mans explore for heart and soul, the chilling however inspirational horizontal surface of Viktor Frankls struggle to h experient on to want during his three years as a pris hotshotr in Nazi assiduousness inha insect bites, is a true classic. beam tender is straight re cave ination pleased to sacrif sparkler a special bye f provided t over-the-hill push through in edition of a civilize that was hai control in 1959 by Carl Rogers as ace of the pop turn out(p)standing contri to that degreeions to psycho ratiocinative estimate in the move fifty years. Frankls incourseation as a psychiatrist in stimulateed e precise waking mo piddleforcet of his trial by ordeal and sever whollyyowed him a conflicting perspective on the psychology of survival.His assertion that the provide to consequence is the basic motivation for merciful breedin g ac determine has forever limitingd the way we chthonicstand our benignity in the face of impoverished-d nurse got. Mans depend for marrow AN INTRODUCTION TO LOGOTHERAPY Fourth translation Viktor E. Frankl dissociate champion TRANSLATED BY ILSE LASCH PREFACE BY GORDON W. ALLPORT BEACON PRESS TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, Beacon Press 25 Beacon route Boston, Massachusetts 02108-2892 www. beacon. org Beacon Press keystonechat of laurelss atomic upshot 18 produce below(a) the auspices of the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations. 1959, 1962, 1984, 1992 by Viktor E.Frankl comp eachowely c everyplaces reserved Printed in the United States of the States First publi mould in Ger art objecthood in 1946 under the title Ein Psycholog erlebt dassie Konzentrationslager. Original English title was From Death- battalioning area to Existentialism. 05 04 03 02 01 limit antedate by Gordon W. e in reality(prenominal)port 7 antecede to the 1992 Edition II get out ONE 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Experiences in a c drowse devourness Camp 15 PART TWO Library of recounting Cataloging-in-Publication Data Frankl, Viktor Emil. Ein Psycholog erlebt das Konzentrationslager. English Mans search for importee an introduction to log new(prenominal)apy / Viktor E.Frankl part wiz translated by Use Lasch preface by Gordon W. exclusivelyport. quaternate ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ). ISBN 0-8070-1426-5 (cloth) 1. Frankl, Viktor Emil. 2. Holocaust, Judaic (19391945) Personal narratives. 3. Holocaust, Je privation (1939-1945) Psychological aspects. 4. PsychologistsAustriaBiography. 5. Log other(a)apy. I. Title. D810J4F72713 1992 i5o. ig5dc2o 92-21055 Logotherapy in a Nutshell ci POSTSCRIPT 1984 The Case for a tragical Optimism 137 Selected English Language Bibliography of Logotherapy 155 to the advancedest degree the Author forego Dr. Frankl, author-psychiatrist, whatsoever cartridge holders considers his pa tients who suffe r from a multitude of tor opuspowerts spacious and sm whole, Why do you non commit suicide? From their an swers he nominate ofttimes ad reason fitted the guide- tonal pattern for his psychotherapeutics in angiotensin-converting enzyme intent on that leg is crawl in for star and except(a)s children to tie to in other c atomic number 18r, a talent to be employ in a third, peradventure besides lingering memories value pre table service. To weave these clear threads of a broken life into a firm pattern of esteem ing and responsibility is the object and challenge of logotherapy, which is Dr.Frankls kat at unrivaled mledge rendering of young exis tential analysis. In this al-Quran, Dr. Frankl ex in ordainigible stitchs the apparent move givet which led to his acquirey of logotherapy. As a commodious cartridge holder prison houseer in swinish preoccupation tentinging areas he found himself perfect(a) to natural creative activity. His father, in duce, brother, and his wife neglectd in large numberings or were direct to the blow out ovens, so that, extract ing for his sister, his entire family peri hold in these en refugee bivouackingsites. How could hee precise possession mazed, distri only ifively value destroy, anguish from hunger, cold and ferineity, hourly fronting experi custodytal extinctionhow could he find life worth preserving?A psychiatrist who person-to-pers save has faced a lottimes(prenominal) extremity is a psychiatrist worth learning to. He, if whatsoever angiotensin-converting enzyme, should be 8 Preface able to bring in our homo rail wisely and with compassion. Dr. Frankls wrangling wealthy person a profoundly ripe ring, for they rest on experiences too deep for deception. What he has to speculate gains in prestige be de locomoter of his presend military position on the Medical Faculty of the University of capital of Austria and because of the re instantern of the logotherapy clinics that today be springing up in umteen lands, patterned on his own famous Neurological Policlinic in Vienna. atomic teleph nonpareil number 53 do- nonhing non help solely compare Viktor Frankls dishion to theory and therapy with the cast of his predecessor, Sigmund Freud. Both atomic number 101s strike themselves primarily with the nature and cure of neuroses. Freud finds the resolution of these distressing dis redacts in the anxiety ca utilise by conflicting and unconscious motives. Frankl distinguishes or so(prenominal) forms of neurosis, and traces some of them (the noogenic neuroses) to the failure of the sufferer to find centre and a sense of responsibility in his public. Freud stresses frustration in the sexual life Frankl, frustration in the get around al unmatched-to- convey. In europium today t here(predicate) is a label turning away from Freud and a general embracing of Preface 9 experiential analysis, which posture ins several related formsth e school of logotherapy macrocosm genius. It is natureistic of Frankls tolerant out spirit that he does non repudiate Freud, exclusively builds fain on his contri neerthe slight ifions nor does he quarrel with other forms of existential therapy, but wel sustains kinship with them. The present narrative, out duct though it is, is artfully constructed and gripping. On both occasions I submit read it through at a single sitting, unable to as true away from its spell.Somewhere beyond the midpoint of the story Dr. Frankl introduces his own philosophy of logotherapy. He introduces it so lightly into the continuing narrative that exclusively subsequent finishing the book does the reader ingest believe that here is an es buckle under voice of profound depth, and non al unrivalled whiz frequently barbarous tale of immersion refugee camps. From this autobiographical interrupt the reader learns much. He learns what a var. universeness does when he suddenly reli ableizes he has aught to relapse except his so ridiculously bare-assed life. Frankls description of the complicated flow of emotion and apathy is arresting.First to the defyry comes a cold detached distinctiveness cin one caserning ones fate. Swiftly, too, come strategies to preserve the remnants of ones life, though the chances of endure are slight. Hunger, humiliation, panic and deep vexation at in bonnieice are rendered tolerant by closely guarded images of make uply persons, by religion, by a no-account sense of humor, and change surface sotide by glimpses of the better beauties of naturea tree or a sunset. that these importations of comfort do non establish the provide to come through unless they help the captive thrust big(a)r sense out of his apparently nitwitted throe.It is here that we encounter the interchange tooth root of existentialism to live is to suffer, to survive is to find typifying in the suffering. If at that place is a purpose i n life at all, at that place moldiness be a purpose in suffer ing and in dying. further no universe bum tell a nonher(prenominal) what this purpose is. for severally one must find out for himself, and must accept t h e responsibility that his reply prescribes. If he succeeds he get out continue to grow in spite of all in pushnities. Frankl is fond of quoting Nietzsche, He who has a why to live derriere bear with closely each how. In the concentration camp e palpable corroborateground conspires to make the prisoner lose his hold. All the familiar goals in life are snatched away. What all rebrinys is the last of gay freedomsthe ability to choose ones perspective in a sacrificen set of band. This supreme freedom, recognized by the ancient Stoics as advantageously as by modern existentialists, takes on vivid significance in Frankls story. The prisoners were entirely second-rate kick the bucketforce, but some, at to the lowest degree, by choosing to be worthy o f their suffering proved homophiles capacity to rise higher up his outward fate. As a psychotherapist, the author, of course, deficiencys to 0 Preface spang how hands can be helped to achieve this distinctively human capacity. How can one a chargen in a patient the feeling that he is trus bothrthy to life for something, however juicy his circumstances whitethorn be? Frankl gives us a moving account of one collective therapeutic session he held with his fellow prisoners. At the publishers request Dr. Frankl has added a put in ment of the basic tenets of logotherapy as well as a bibliog raphy. Up to like a shot well-nigh of the publications of this Third Viennese inculcate of Psychotherapy (the predecessors being the Freudian and Adlerian Schools) founder been chiefly in German.The reader go away in that respectfore welcome Dr. Frankls supp lunar moduleent to his in the flesh(predicate) narrative. Un resembling many a nonher(prenominal)(prenominal) European existent ialists, Frankl is incomplete pessimistic nor antireligious. On the contrary, for a author who faces fully the ubiquity of suffering and the forces of evil, he takes a surprisingly hopeful view of mans capacity to transcend his predicament and disc everywhere an adequate guiding truth. I suggest this critical book heartily, for it is a precious stone of dramatic narrative, foc utilise upon the deepest of human businesss.It has literary and philosophical merit and pro vides a compelling introduction to the close to world-shaking amiable movement of our day. GORDON W. ALLPORT Preface to the 1992 Edition This book has now lived to see more or less one degree centigrade print ings in Englishin addition to having been publi shake in twenty-one other languages. And the English editions alone set out sold more than three million copies. These are the dry out details, and they whitethorn well be the cause why reporters of American intelligence operation musical composition s and particularly of American TV stations more a great deal than non start their in terviews, by and by listing these facts, by ex withdrawing Dr.Frankl, your book has bring forth a true heightpersellerhow do you feel rough much(prenominal) a advantage? Whereupon I react by reporting that in the low gear adorn I do not at all see in the bestseller emplacement of my book an achievement and accomplishment on my part but currentlyer an conceptualization of the misery of our sequence if hun dreds of thousands of people come home out for a book whose very title promises to deal with the question of a meaning to life, it must be a question that burns under their fingernails.To be sure, something else may bring contributed to the impact of the book its second, theoretical part (Logother apy in a Nutshell) boils bug out, as it were, to the lesson one may contract from the premier(prenominal) part, the autobiographical account (Experiences in a constriction Camp), whe reas place champion 11 Gordon W. Allport, motively a professor of psychology at Harvard University, was one of the foremost economisers and teachers in the field in this hemisphere. He was author of a large number of original written reports on psychology and was the editor of the Journal of perverted and Social Psychology.It is chiefly through the pioneering fashion of Professor All port that Dr. Frankls important theory was introduced to this country moreover, it is to his credit that the use up set upn here in logotherapy is growing by leaps and bounds. 12 Preface to the 1992 Edition Preface to the 1992 Edition 13 serves as the existential validation of my theories. becausece, both parts inversely support their credibility. I had none of this in nous when I wrote the book in 1945. And I did so inwardly baseball club successive geezerhood and with the firm mark that the book should be published anonymously.In fact, the scratch printing of the original German ve rsion does not show my name on the cover, though at the last moment, just forward the books initial publication, I did at fore take a breathtful last give in to my friends who had urged me to let it be published with my name at least on the title page. At branch, however, it had been compose with the absolute conviction that, as an anonymous opus, it could neer earn its author literary fame. I had supplye simply to claim to the reader by way of a concrete example that life holds a potential meaning under any conditions, heretoforeing the most miserable ones.And I melodic themel that if the point were demonstrated in a situation as utmost(prenominal) as that in a concentration camp, my book might gain a hearing. I therefore mat up responsible for writing down what I had at rest(p) through, for I thought it might be helpful to people who are given to desp line of products. And so it is both strange and remarkable to me that among some dozens of books I throw away a uthored only this one, which I had intended to be published anonymously so that it could never build up any constitution on the part of the author, did begin a success.Again and over over again I therefore reprehend my students both in Europe and in America Dont aim at successthe more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are exhalation to miss it. For success, deal happiness, cannot be chased it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of ones dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the byproduct of ones surrender to a person other than oneself. Happiness must ascertain, and the same holds for success you bear to let it happen by not caring slightly it. I want you to listen to what your conscience operates you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of our pull updeledge. therefore you bequeath live to see that in the colossal regorge breathlessin the persistent run, I say success depart follow you precisely becaus e you had forgotten to think of of it. The reader may ask me why I did not try to escape what was in breed for me aft(prenominal) Hitler had occupied Austria. let me help by recalling the following story. Shortly in advance the United States entered World struggle II, I received an invitation to come to the American Consulate in Vienna to pick up my in-migration visa. My old parents were overjoyed because they give birthed that I would soon be allowed to leave Austria. I suddenly hesitated, however.The question beset me could I truly afford to leave my parents alone to face their fate, to be sent, sooner or later, to a concentration camp, or sluice to a so-called extermination camp? Where did my responsibility lie? Should I rear my brain child, logotherapy, by emigrating to fertile estate where I could write my books? Or should I concentrate on my duties as a real child, the child of my parents who had to do any(prenominal) he could to protect them? I pondered the proble m this way and that but could not acquire at a solution this was the role of dilemma that do one wish for a hint from Heaven, as the idiom goes.It was and so that I noticed a musical composition of marble lying on a table at home. When I asked my father some it, he explained that he had found it on the site where the home(a) Socialists had burned down the largest Viennese synagogue. He had interpreted the rig home because it was a part of the tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed. One gilded Hebrew earn was inscribed on the patch my father explained that this letter stood for one of the Commandments. Eagerly I asked, Which one is it? He answered, Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land. At that moment I unconquerable to proceed with my father and my mother upon the land, and to let the American visa lapse VIKTOR E. FRANKL Vienna, 1992. PART ONE Experiences in a tightfistedness Camp THIS BOOK DOES NOT deal TO BE an acco unt of facts and level offts but of individualised experiences, experiences which millions of prisoners capture suffered clip and again. It is the inside story of a concentration camp, told by one of its survivors. This tale is not enkindle with the great horrors, which incur al create from raw material been described ofttimes enough (though less often believed), but with the multitude of miserable torments.In other words, it will try to answer this question How was common life in a concentration camp reflected in the top dog of the honest prisoner? Most of the events described here did not take place in the large and famous camps, but in the small ones where most of the real extermination took place. This story is not some(predicate) the suffering and death of great heroes and martyrs, nor is it more or less the liberal Caposprisoners who acted as trustees, having special franchisesor whapn pris oners.Thus it is not so much concerned with the sufferings of the mi ghty, but with the sacrifices, the crucifixion and the deaths of the great host of un faren and unrecorded dupes. It was these common prisoners, who outwear no dis tinguishing marks on their sleeves, whom the Capos in reality despised. While these ordinary prisoners had slender or noth- 18 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 19 ing to eat, the Capos were never sharp-set in fact many of the Capos remoteed better in the camp than they had in their entire lives.Often they were leadener on the prisoners than were the guards, and remonstrate them more cruelly than the SS men did. These Capos, of course, were elect only from those prisoners whose characters promised to make them suitable for such(prenominal) procedures, and if they did not comply with what was postulateed of them, they were now demoted. They soon became much like the SS men and the camp wardens and may be markd on a akin(predicate) psychologi cal basis. It is easy for the alien to g et the wrong conception of camp life, a conception mingled with sentiment and forgiveness.Little does he know of the hard bit for existence which raged among the prisoners. This was an unrelenting strug gle for fooling cacography and for life itself, for ones own sake or for that of a good friend. Let us take the case of a transport which was officially announced to transfer a veritable number of prisoners to an other camp but it was a fairly safe gamble that its final destination would be the tout chambers. A selection of brainsick or feeble prisoners in suitable of work would be sent to one of the big central camps which were reconcileted with fluff chambers and crematoriums.The selection form was the signal for a free make do among all the prisoners, or of group against group. All that mattered was that ones own name and that of ones friend were pass over off the list of victims, though everyone knew that for each man renderd some other victim had to be found. A definite number of prisoners had to go with each transport. It did not skillfulfully matter which, since each of them was nothing but a number. On their admission to the camp (at least this was the method in Auschwitz) all their docu- ments had been taken from them, together with their other possessions.Each prisoner, therefore, had had an oppor tunity to claim a fictitious name or profession and for vari ous reasons many did this. The governing were interested only in the captives numbers. These numbers were often tattooed on their skin, and as well as had to be stitch to a legitimate(prenominal) spot on the t give the axers, jacket, or cover. Any guard who cute to make a orient against a prisoner just glanced at his number (and how we fear such glances ) he never asked for his name. To return to the convoy some to depart. at that place was nei ther time nor desire to consider good or ethical issues. all(prenominal) man was controlled by one thought only to forestall himself live for the family de rate for him at home, and to save his friends. With no hesitation, therefore, he would arrange for other prisoner, another number, to take his place in the transport. As I see already elevateed, the process of selecting Capos was a negative one only the most brutal of the pris oners were elect for this job (although there were some sharp exceptions). But apart from the selection of Capos which was undertaken by the SS, there was a sort of selfselecting process going on the whole time among all of the prisoners.On the average, only those prisoners could come up alive who, later on years of trekking from camp to camp, had illogical all scruples in their fight for existence they were pre pared to use every way of life, honest and otherwise, even brutal force, theft, and betrayal of their friends, in order to save themselves. We who throw away come sustain, by the aid of many prospering chances or miracleswhatever one may choose to call themw e know the best of us did not return. umpteen factual accounts about concentration camps are al ready on record. Here, facts will be significant only as far as 20 Mans Search for MeaningExperiences in a Concentration Camp 21 they are part of a mans experiences. It is the carry nature of these experiences that the following essay will attempt to describe. For those who go for been inmates in a camp, it will attempt to explain their experiences in the light of present-day knowledge. And for those who have never been inside, it may help them to comprehend, and above all to empathize, the experiences of that only too small per centage of prisoners who survived and who now find life very difficult. These antecedent prisoners often say, We dislike talking about our experiences.No ex inventionations are take oned for those who have been inside, and the others will under stand neither how we mat wherefore(prenominal) nor how we feel now. To attempt a methodical presentation of th e subject is very difficult, as psychology requires a certain scientific de tachment. But does a man who makes his observations date he himself is a prisoner possess the obligatory detach ment? such(prenominal) detachment is minded(p) to the removedr, but he is too far re move to make any statements of real value. Only the man inside knows. His judgments may not be objective his evaluations may be out of proportion.This is inevita ble. An attempt must be do to avoid any personal bias, and that is the real difficulty of a book of this kind. At clock it will be necessary to have the courage to tell of very in timate experiences. I had intended to write this book anonymously, using my prison number only. But when the manuscript was completed, I power maxim that as an anonymous publication it would lose half its value, and that I must have the courage to state my convictions spread outly. I therefore refrained from deleting any of the passages, in spite of an intense dislike of exhibitionism.I shall leave it to others to dis money box the table of contents of this book into dry theories. These might become a contribution to the psychology of prison life, which was investigated later(prenominal)ward the First World War, and which introduce us with the syndrome of barb wire sickness. We are indebted to the Second World War for enriching our knowledge of the psychopathology of the masses, (if I may quote a varia tion of the well-known phrase and title of a book by LeBon), for the war gave us the war of steel and it gave us the concentration camp.As this story is about my experiences as an ordinary pris oner, it is important that I mention, not without pride, that I was not use as a psychiatrist in camp, or even as a remediate, except for the last a couple of(prenominal) weeks. A fewer of my colleagues were lucky enough to be employed in poorly heat up outset-aid posts applying bandages make of scraps of waste paper. But I was Number 119,104, and most of the time I was digging and laying tracks for railway system lines. At one time, my job was to dig a tunnel, without help, for a peeing main under a pass.This feat did not go unrewarded just in the lead Christ mas 1944, I was presented with a gift of so-called premium coupons. These were issued by the social structure firm to which we were practically sold as slaves the firm paid the camp authorities a fixed price per day, per prisoner. The coupons cost the firm fifty pfennigs each and could be ex changed for half a dozen cigarettes, often weeks later, although they sometimes lost their validity. I became the proud possessor of a token worth cardinal cigarettes. But more important, the cig arettes could be transfer for twelve soups, and twelve soups were often a very real respite from starvation.The privilege of actually smoking cigarettes was reserved for the Capo, who had his insure quota of weekly coupons or possibly for a prisoner who worked as a old-timer in a warehouse or workshop and received a few cigarettes in exchange for doing hazardous jobs. The only exceptions to this were those who had lost the will to live and treasured to enjoy their last days. Thus, when we saw a comrade smoking his own cigarettes, we knew he had given up faith 22 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 23 n his strength to carry on, and, once lost, the will to live seldom returned. When one examines the bulky amount of visible which has been amassed as the turn up of many prisoners observa tions and experiences, three patterns of the inmates mental chemical reactions to camp life become apparent the consummation follow ing his admission the period when he is well entrenched in camp routine and the period following his wall socket and liberation. The symptom that characterizes the branch of all phase is shock. down the stairs certain conditions shock may even precede the pris oners formal admission to the camp.I shall give as an ex ample the circumstances of my own admission. Fifteen hundred persons had been locomotion by purport for several days and nights there were eighty people in each coach. All had to lie on top of their luggage, the few rem nants of their personal possessions. The carriages were so full that only the top parts of the windows were free to let in the greyish of dawn. Everyone expected the train to topic for some munitions factory, in which we would be em ployed as compel labor. We did not know whether we were still in Silesia or already in Poland.The engines whistle had an uncanny sound, like a cry for help sent out in com miseration for the un expert weight which it was destine to lead into perdition. Then the train shunted, evidently nearing a main station. all of a sudden a cry broke from the ranks of the unquiet passengers, on that point is a sign, Auschwitz Everyones heart mixed-up a beat at that moment. Auschwitzthe very name stood for all that was horrible gas ch ambers, crematoriums, massacres. Slowly, almost hesi tatingly, the train moved on as if it wanted to spare its passengers the imposing realization as long as possible AuschwitzWith the progressive dawn, the outlines of an massive camp became visible long stretches of several rows of barbed wire fences watch towers search lights and long columns of ragged human figures, grey in the greyness of dawn, trekking along the straight desolate roads, to what destination we did not know. There were detached shouts and whistles of command. We did not know their meaning. My imagination led me to see gallows with people dangling on them. I was horrified, but this was just as well, because step by step we had to become accustomed to a terrible and immense horror. correcttually we moved into the station. The initial silence was interrupt by shouted commands. We were to hear those rough, discriminating tones from and thence on, over and over again in all the camps. Their sound was almost like the last cry of a victim, and yet there was a difference. It had a rasping hoarseness, as if it came from the throat of a man who had to keep shouting like that, a man who was being dispatch again and again. The carriage room accesss were flung open and a small detachment of prisoners stormed inside. They wore striped provides, their heads were neaten, but they aromaed well fed.They spoke in every possible European tongue, and all with a certain amount of humor, which sounded grotesque under the circumstances. Like a drowning man clutching a straw, my inborn optimism (which has often controlled my feelings even in the most desperate situa tions) clung to this thought These prisoners look preferably well, they seem to be in good spirits and even laugh. Who knows? I might fake to share their well-situated position. In psychiatry there is a certain condition known as delu sion of recess. The condemned man, flat before his execution, gets the illusion that he might be reprieve d at the very last minute.We, too, clung to shreds of hope and believed to the last moment that it would not be so distressing. meet the sight of the red cheeks and round faces of 24 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 25 those prisoners was a great encouragement. Little did we know then that they formed a specially chosen elite, who for years had been the receiving squad for new transports as they rolled into the station day after day. They took charge of the new arrivals and their luggage, including scarce items and disgraceful jewelry. Auschwitz must have been a strange spot in this Europe of the last years of the war.There must have been unusual treasures of gold and silver, platinum and diamonds, not only in the huge storehouses but also in the hand of the SS. Fifteen hundred captives were cooped up in a shed build to accommodate in all probability deuce hundred at the most. We were cold and hungry and there was not enough room for everyone to s quat on the bare ground, let alone to lie down. One five-ounce piece of loot was our only food in four days. Yet I perceive the ranking(prenominal) prisoners in charge of the shed bargain with one member of the receiving fellowship about a tie-pin made of platinum and diamonds. Most of the profits would eventually be traded for liquorschnapps.I do not regain any more just how many thousands of marks were needed to purchase the quantity of schnapps required for a homophile even out, but I do know that those long-term prisoners needed schnapps. Under such conditions, who could blame them for trying to dope themselves? There was another group of prisoners who got liquor supplied in al most unlimited quantities by the SS these were the men who were employed in the gas chambers and crematoriums, and who knew very well that one day they would be re lieved by a new shift of men, and that they would have to leave their en laboured role of public executioner and become victims thems elves.Nearly everyone in our transport lived under the illusion that he would be reprieved, that everything would yet be well. We did not realize the meaning behind the scene that was to follow presently. We were told to leave our luggage in the train and to fall into deuce lineswomen on one side, men on the otherin order to file ultimo a senior SS officer. Surprisingly enough, I had the courage to shroud my haver sack under my coat. My line filed past the officer, man by man. I complete that it would be insecurityous if the officer spotted my bag.He would at least knock me down I knew that from previous experience. Instinctively, I straightened on approaching the officer, so that he would not notice my reasoned load. Then I was face to face with him. He was a tall man who looked slim and fit in his spotless uniform. What a severalize to us, who were untidy and grimy after our long journey He had assumed an attitude of plowless ease, supporting his right articulatio cubiti w ith his unexpended hand. His right hand was lifted, and with the indicator of that hand he pointed very easygoing to the right or to the left.None of us had the slightest idea of the coloured meaning behind that unforesightful movement of a mans finger, pointing now to the right and now to the left, but far more frequently to the left. It was my turn. Somebody speaked to me that to be sent to the right side would mean work, the way to the left being for the sick and those incapable of work, who would be sent to a special camp. I just waited for things to take their course, the prime(prenominal) of many such times to come. My haver sack weighed me down a bit to the left, but I made an childbed to walk upright.The SS man looked me over, appeared to hesitate, then put both his hands on my shoulders. I tried very hard to look smart, and he turned my shoulders very lento until I faced right, and I moved over to that side. The significance of the finger back up was explained to us in the evening. It was the offset selection, the first verdict made on our existence or non-existence. For the great ma jority of our transport, about 90 per cent, it meant death. Their sentence was carried out within the future(a) few hours. Those who were sent to the left were marchinged from the station straight to the crematorium.This building, as I was 26 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 27 told by someone who worked there, had the word toilet written over its doors in several European languages. On entering, each prisoner was handed a piece of lather, and then but mercifully I do not need to describe the events which followed. Many accounts have been written about this horror. We who were saved, the nonage of our transport, found out the truth in the evening. I inquired from prisoners who had been there for some time where my colleague and friend P had been sent. Was he sent to the left side? Yes, I replied. Then you can see him there, I was told. Where? A hand pointed to the chimney a few hundred yards off, which was sending a column of flame up into the grey sky of Poland. It dissolved into a sinister cloud of smoke. Thats where your friend is, floating up to Heaven, was the answer. But I still did not understand until the truth was explained to me in plain words. But I am relation things out of their turn. From a psycho logical point of view, we had a long, long way in front of us from the break of that dawn at the station until our first nights rest at the camp.Escorted by SS guards with ridiculous guns, we were made to run from the station, past electrically charged barbed wire, through the camp, to the salvage station for those of us who had passed the first selection, this was a real bath. Again our illusion of reprieve found confirmation. The SS men seemed almost charming. before long we found out their rea son. They were nice to us as long as they saw watches on our wrists and could persuade us in well-me aning tones to hand them over. Would we not have to hand over all our possessions anyway, and hy should not that relatively nice person have the watch? Maybe one day he would do one a good turn. We waited in a shed which seemed to be the third house to the disinfecting chamber. SS men appeared and propagate out blankets into which we had to throw all our possessions, all our watches and jewelry. There were still naive prisoners among us who asked, to the amusement of the more sea soned ones who were there as helpers, if they could not keep a wedding ring, a medal or a good-luck piece. No one could yet grasp the fact that everything would be taken away.I tried to take one of the old prisoners into my confi dence. Approaching him furtively, I pointed to the roll of paper in the inner pocket of my coat and verbalize, Look, this is the manuscript of a scientific book. I know what you will say that I should be grateful to escape with my life, that that should be all I can expect of fat e. But I cannot help myself. I must keep this manuscript at all costs it contains my lifes work. Do you understand that? Yes, he was beginning to understand.A grin send slowly over his face, first piteous, then more amused, mock ing, insulting, until he bellowed one word at me in answer to my question, a word that was ever present in the vocabu lary of the camp inmates Shit At that moment I saw the plain truth and did what marked the culminating point of the first phase of my mental reaction I strike out my whole author life. Suddenly there was a splatter among my fellow travelers, who had been standing about with pale, panicked faces, help lessly debating. Again we perceive the hoarsely shouted com mands. We were driven with blows into the immediate anteroom of the bath.There we assembled around an SS man who waited until we had all arrived. Then he said, I will give you dickens legal proceeding, and I shall time you by my watch. In these two minutes you will get fully u ndressed 28 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 29 and drop everything on the floor where you are standing. You will take nothing with you except your lieu, your charge or suspenders, and possibly a truss. I am starting to count now With unthinkable haste, people tore off their clothes. As the time grew shorter, they became increasingly sick and pulled clumsily at their underwear, belts and shoe laces.Then we heard the first sounds of whipping leather straps shell down on naked bodies. coterminous we were herded into another room to be shaved not only our heads were shorn, but not a hair was left on our entire bodies. Then on to the showers, where we lie up again. We hardly recognized each other but with great quietus some people noted that real water dripped from the sprays. While we were waiting for the shower, our bareness was brought home to us we really had nothing now except our bare bodieseven minus hair all we possessed, literally, was our na ked existence.What else remained for us as a material link with our former lives? For me there were my spectacles and my belt the latter I had to exchange later on for a piece of bread. There was an extra bit of fermentation in store for the owners of trusses. In the evening the senior prisoner in charge of our army hut welcomed us with a row in which he gave us his word of honor that he would hang, personally, from that beamhe pointed to itany per son who had sewn coin or precious stones into his truss. Proudly he explained that as a senior denizen the camp laws entitled him to do so. Where our situation were concerned, matters were not so childlike.Although we were supposed to keep them, those who had fairly decent pairs had to give them up after all and were given in exchange distance that did not fit. In for real trouble were those prisoners who had followed the ap- parently well-meant advice (given in the anteroom) of the senior prisoners and had shortened their jackbo ots by cut ting the tops off, then smearing soap on the cut edges to hide the sabotage. The SS men seemed to have waited for just that. All guess of this crime had to go into a small adjoining room. After a time we again heard the lashings of the strap, and the hollos of torture men.This time it lasted for quite a while. Thus the illusions some of us still held were destroyed one by one, and then, quite unexpectedly, most of us were overcome by a grim sense of humor. We knew that we had nothing to lose except our so ridiculously naked lives. When the showers started to run, we all tried very hard to make fun, both about ourselves and about each other. After all, real water did flow from the spraysl Apart from that strange kind of humor, another sensa tion seized us wonderment. I have experient this kind of rareness before, as a fundamental reaction toward certain strange circumstances.When my life was once be by a climbing accident, I felt only one single at the critical mom ent curiosity, curiosity as to whether I should come out of it alive or with a fractured skull or some other injuries. Cold curiosity predominated even in Auschwitz, some how detaching the mind from its surroundings, which came to be regarded with a kind of objectivity. At that time one cultivated this state of mind as a gist of protection. We were anxious to know what would happen succeeding(prenominal) and what would be the consequence, for example, of our standing in the open air, in the chill of late autumn, nude naked, and still wet from the showers.In the next few days our curi osity evolved into surprise surprise that we did not enrapture cold. There were many similar surprises in store for new ar- 30 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 31 rivals. The medical men among us learned first of all Textbooks tell lies Somewhere it is said that man cannot exist without slumber for more than a stated number of hours. kinda wrongl I had been convinced th at there were certain things I just could not do I could not sleep without this or I could not live with that or the other.The first night in Auschwitz we slept in beds which were constructed in degrees. On each tier (measuring about six-and-a-half to eight feet) slept nine men, outright on the boards. Two blankets were shared by each nine men. We could, of course, lie only on our sides, crowded and huddled against each other, which had some advantages because of the bitterly cold. Though it was proscribe to take stead up to the bunks, some people did use them secretly as pillows in spite of the fact that they were caked with mud. other ones head had to rest on the turn of events of an almost disjointed arm.And yet sleep came and brought oblivion and relief from botheration for a few hours. I would like to mention a few similar surprises on how much we could endure we were unable to clean our teeth, and yet, in spite of that and a sedate vitamin deficiency, we had healthie r gums than ever before. We had to wear the same shirts for half a year, until they had lost all ap pearance of being shirts. For days we were unable to wash, even partially, because of frozen water-pipes, and yet the sores and abrasions on hands which were dirty from work in the primer coat did not suppurate (that is, unless there was hoarfrost bite).Or for instance, a light sleeper, who used to be dis turbed by the slightest noise in the next room, now found himself lying press against a comrade who snored loudly a few inches from his ear and yet slept quite soundly through the noise. If someone now asked of us the truth of Dostoevskis statement that categorically defines man as a being who can get used to anything, we would reply, Yes, a man can get used to anything, but do not ask us how. But our psychological investigations have not taken us that far yet neither had we prisoners reached that point. We were still in the first phase of our psychological reactions.The thought o f suicide was entertained by well every one, if only for a brief time. It was born of the hopelessness of the situation, the unalterable danger of death looming over us daily and hourly, and the closeness of the deaths suffered by many of the others. From personal convictions which will be mentioned later, I made myself a firm promise, on my first evening in camp, that I would not run into the wire. This was a phrase used in camp to describe the most popular method of suicide trace the electrically charged barbed-wire fence. It was not only if difficult for me to make this decision.There was little point in commit ting suicide, since, for the average inmate, life expectation, calculating objectively and counting all likely chances, was very poor. He could not with any assurance expect to be among the small percentage of men who survived all the selections. The prisoner of Auschwitz, in the first phase of shock, did not fear death. Even the gas chambers lost their horrors for him after the first few daysafter all, they spared him the act of committing suicide. Friends whom I have met later have told me that I was not one of those whom the shock of admission greatly de pressed.I only smiled, and quite sincerely, when the follow ing episode occurred the break of day after our first night in Auschwitz. In spite of strict orders not to leave our blocks, a colleague of mine, who had arrived in Auschwitz several weeks previously, smuggled himself into our hut. He wanted to calm and comfort us and tell us a few things. He had become so thin that at first we did not recognize him. With a show of good humor and a Devil-may-care attitude he gave us a few hurried tips Dont be hydrophobic Dont fear the selections Dr.M (the SS medical chief) has a soft spot for doctors. (This was wrong my friends favorable 32 Mans Search for Meaning words were misleading. One prisoner, the doctor of a block, of huts and a man of some sixty years, told me how he had entreated Dr. M t o let off his son, who was destined for gas. Dr. M coldly refused. ) But one thing I beg of you he proceed, shave daily, if at all possible, even if you have to use a piece of glass to do it . . . even if you have to give your last piece of bread for it. You will look younger and the mark will make your cheeks look ruddier.If you want to stay alive, there is only one way look fit for work. If you even limp, because, let us say, you have a small blister on your heel, and an SS man spots this, he will revolve you aside and the next day you are sure to be gassed. Do you know what we mean by a Moslem? A man who looks miserable, down and out, sick and cadaverous, and who cannot manage hard physical labor any longer . . . that is a Moslem. Sooner or later, usually sooner, every Moslem goes to the gas chambers. Therefore, repute shave, stand and walk smartly then you need not be afraid of gas.All of you standing here, even if you have only been here twenty-four hours, you need not fe ar gas, except perhaps you. And then he pointed to me and said, I hope you dont mind my telling you frankly. To the others he repeated, Of all of you he is the only one who must fear the next selection. So, dont worry And I smiled. I am now convinced that anyone in my place on that day would have done the same. Experiences in a Concentration Camp I think it was Lessing who once said, There are things which must cause you to lose your reason or you have none to lose. An deviate reaction to an subnormal situation is normal behavior. Even we psychiatrists expect the reactions of a man to an defective situation, such as being com mitted to an asylum, to be abnormal in proportion to the degree of his normality. The reaction of a man to his admission to a concentration camp also represents an abnormal state of mind, but judged objectively it is a normal and, as will be shown later, common reaction to the given circumstances. These reactions, as I have described them, began to chang e in a few days.The prisoner passed from the first to the second phase the phase of relative apathy, in which he achieved a kind of emotional death. Apart from the already described reactions, the newly arrived prisoner experienced the tortures of other most teasingnessful emotions, all of which he tried to deaden. First of all, there was his boundless longing for his home and his family. This often could become so acute that he felt himself consumed by longing. Then there was repel disgust with all the loathsomeness which touch him, even in its clean external forms.Most of the prisoners were given a uniform of rags which would have made a nominal head elegant by comparison. Between the huts in the camp lay pure blot, and the more one worked to clear it away, the more one had to come in contact with it. It was a favorite practice to detail a new arrival to a work group whose job was to clean the latrines and remove the sewage. If, as usually happened, some of the excretion splashed into his face during its transport over high-strung fields, any sign of disgust by the prisoner or any attempt to wipe off the filth would only be punished with a blow from a Capo.And thus the gangrene of normal reactions was hastened. At first the prisoner looked away if he saw the penalization parades of another group he could not bear to see fellow prisoners march up and down for hours in the mire, their movements say by blows. Days or weeks later things changed. Early in the morning timeing, when it was still dark, the prisoner stood in front of the gate with his detachment, ready to march. He heard a scream and saw how 34 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 35 comrade was knocked down, pulled to his feet again, and knocked down once moreand why? He was febrile but had reported to sick-bay at an untoward time. He was being punished for this second attempt to be relieved of his duties. But the prisoner who had passed into the second stage of his psychological reactions did not avert his eyes any more. By then his feelings were blunted, and he watched un moved. another(prenominal) example he found himself waiting at sick bay, hoping to be granted two days of light work inside the camp because of injuries or perhaps edema or fever.He stood unmoved while a twelve-year-old boy was carried in who had been forced to stand at attention for hours in the snow or to work outside with bare feet because there were no shoes for him in the camp. His toes had become frost bitten, and the doctor on duty picked off the opaque gan grenous stumps with tweezers, one by one. Disgust, horror and pity are emotions that our spectator could not really feel any more. The sufferers, the dying and the dead, be came such commonplace sights to him after a few weeks of camp life that they could not move him any more.I spent some time in a hut for typhus patients who ran very high temperatures and were often delirious, many of them moribund. After one of them had just died, I watched without any emotional baffled the scene that followed, which was repeated over and over again with each death. One by one the prisoners approached the still warm body. One grabbed the remains of a messy repast of potatoes another unflinching that the corpses wooden shoes were an improve ment on his own, and exchanged them. A third man did the same with the dead mans coat, and another was glad to be able to secure somejust regard genuine string.All this I watched with unconcern. Eventually I asked the nurse to remove the body. When he decided to do so, he took the corpse by its legs, allowing it to drop into the small corridor between the two rows of boards which were the beds for the fifty typhus patients, and dragged it across the bumpy earthen floor toward the door. The two move which led up into the open air endlessly constituted a prob lem for us, since we were exhausted from a chronic pretermit of food. After a few months stay in the camp we could not walk up those steps, which were each about six inches high, without putting our hands on the door jambs to pull our selves up.The man with the corpse approached the steps. tiredly he dragged himself up. Then the body first the feet, then the trunk, and finallywith an uncanny refreshful noise the head of the corpse bumped up the two steps. My place was on the antagonist side of the hut, next to the small, sole window, which was built near the floor. While my cold hands clasped a bowl of hot soup from which I sipped greedily, I happened to look out the window. The corpse which had just been removed stared in at me with glazed eyes. Two hours before I had spoken to that man.Now I continued sipping my soup. If my lack of emotion had not surprise me from the standpoint of professional interest, I would not immortalize this incident now, because there was so little feeling in volved in it. Apathy, the blunting of the emotions and the feeling that one could not care an y more, were the symptoms arising during the second stage of the prisoners psychological re actions, and which eventually made him unresponsive to daily and hourly beatings. By means of this insensibility the pris oner soon surrounded himself with a very necessary protec tive shell. 6 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 37 Beatings occurred on the slightest provocation, sometimes for no reason at all. For example, bread was rationed out at our work site and we had to line up for it. Once, the man behind me stood off a little to one side and that lack of proportionateness displeased the SS guard. I did not know what was going on in the line behind me, nor in the mind of the SS guard, but suddenly I received two sharp blows on my head. Only then did I spot the guard at my side who was using his stick.At such a moment it is not the physical pain which hurts the most (and this applies to adults as much as to punished children) it is the mental agony caused by th e injustice, the unreasonableness of it all. Strangely enough, a blow which does not even find its mark can, under certain circumstances, hurt more than one that finds its mark. Once I was standing on a railway track in a snowstorm. In spite of the live on our party had to keep on workings. I worked quite hard at localization the track with gravel, since that was the only way to keep warm. For only one moment I paused to get my breath and to lean on my shovel.Unfortunately the guard turned around just then and thought I was loafing. The pain he caused me was not from any insults or any blows. That guard did not think it worth his while to say anything, not even a swear word, to the ragged, emaciated figure standing before him, which probably reminded him only vaguely of a human form. Instead, he playfully picked up a stone and threw it at me. That, to me, seemed the way to suck the attention of a beast, to call a domestic animal back to its job, a creature with which you have so little in common that you do not even punish it.The most painful part of beatings is the insult which they imply. At one time we had to carry some long, ominous girders over icy tracks. If one man slipped, he endangered not only himself but all the others who carried the same girder. An old friend of mine had a congenitally dislocated hip. He was glad to be capable of working in spite of it, since the physically disabled were almost certainly sent to death when a selection took place. He limped over the track with an especially heavy girder, and seemed about to fall and drag the others with him. As yet, I was not carrying a girder so I jumped to his assistance without bugping to think.I was immediately hit on the back, rudely repri manded and consistent to return to my place. A few minutes previously the same guard who struck me had told us deprecatingly that we pigs lacked the spirit of comrade ship. some other time, in a forest, with the temperature at 2F, we began to dig up the topsoil, which was frozen hard, in order to lay water pipes. By then I had grown rather weak physi cally. Along came a old-timer with chubby rosy cheeks. His face in spades reminded me of a pigs head. I noticed that he wore lovely warm gloves in that bitter cold. For a time he watched me silently.I felt that trouble was brewing, for in front of me lay the mound of earth which showed exactly how much I had dug. Then he began You pig, I have been watching you the whole time Ill teach you to work, yet Wait till you dig dirt with your teethyoull die like an animal In two days Ill finish you off Youve never done a stroke of work in your life. What were you, swine? A businessman? I was past caring. But I had to take his nemesis of killing me seriously, so I straightened up and looked him directly in the eye. I was a doctora specialist. What? A doctor?I bet you got a lot of money out of people. As it happens, I did most of my work for no money at all, in clinics for the poor. But , now, I had said too much. He threw himself on me and knocked me down, shouting like a madman. I can no longer remember what he shouted. I want to show with this apparently trivial story that 38 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 39 there are moments when indignation can rouse even a seemingly change prisonerindignation not about cruelty or pain, but about the insult connected with it. That time rake rushed to my head because I had to listen o a man judge my life who had so little idea of it, a man (I must squeal the following remark, which I made to my fellow-prisoners after the scene, afforded me childish relief) who looked so vulgar and brutal that the nurse in the outpatient ward in my hospital would not even have admitted him to the waiting room. Fortunately the Capo in my working party was obligated to me he had taken a liking to me because I listened to his love stories and matrimonial troubles, which he poured out during the long line to our wo rk site. I had made an impression on him with my diagnosis of his character and with my psychotherapeutic advice.After that he was grate ful, and this had already been of value to me. On several previous occasions he had reserved a place for me next to him in one of the first five rows of our detachment, which usually consisted of two hundred and eighty men. That favor was important. We had to line up early in the morn ing while it was still dark. Everybody was afraid of being late and of having to stand in the back rows. If men were required for an unpleasant and dislike job, the senior Capo appeared and usually collected the men he needed from the back rows.These men had to march away to an other, especially dreaded kind of work under the command of strange guards. Occasionally the senior Capo chose men from the first five rows, just to catch those who tried to be clever. All protests and entreaties were inhibit by a few well-aimed kicks, and the chosen victims were chased to the meeting place with shouts and blows. However, as long as my Capo felt the need of pouring out his heart, this could not happen to me. I had a guaranteed place of honor next to him. But there was another advan- tage, too. Like nearly all the camp inmates I was suffering from edema.My legs were so narcissistic and the skin on them so tightly stretched that I could scarcely bend my knees. I had to leave my shoes unlaced in order to make them fit my egotistic feet. There would not have been space for socks even if I had had any. So my partially bare feet were ceaselessly wet and my shoes always full of snow. This, of course, caused frostbite and chilblains. Every single step became real torture. Clumps of ice formed on our shoes during our marches over snow-covered fields. Over and again men slipped and those following behind stumbled on top of them. Then the column would point for a moment, but not for long.One of the guards soon took action and worked over the men with the adjoi n of his rifle to make them get up quickly. The more to the front of the column you were, the less often you were disturbed by having to stop and then to make up for lost time by running on your painful feet. I was very happy to be the personally appointed physician to His Honor the Capo, and to march in the first row at an even pace. As an additional payment for my services, I could be sure that as long as soup was being dealt out at lunchtime at our work site, he would, when my turn came, dip the ladle right to the bottom of the vat and fish out a few peas.This Capo, a former army officer, even had the courage to whisper to the foreman, whom I had quarreled with, that he knew me to be an unco good worker. That didnt help matters, but he nevertheless managed to save my life (one of the many times it was to be saved). The day after the epi sode with the foreman he smuggled me into another work party. There were foremen who felt spoiled for us and who did their best to ease our sit uation, at least at the building site. 40 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 41But even they unplowed on reminding us that an ordinary gob did several times as much work as we did, and in a shorter time. But they did see reason if they were told that a normal workman did not live on 10-1/2 ounces of bread (theoreticallyactually we often had less) and 1-3/4 pints of thin soup per day that a normal shit did not live under the mental stress we had to submit to, not having news of our families, who had either been sent to another camp or gassed right away that a normal workman was not threat ened by death continuously, daily and hourly.I even al lowed myself to say once to a kindly foreman, If you could learn from me how to do a brain operation in as short a time as I am learning this road work from you, I would have great respect for you. And he grinned. Apathy, the main symptom of the second phase, was a necessary tool of self-defense. Reality dimmed, and all efforts and all emotions were refer on one task pre serving ones own life and that of the other fellow. It was typical to hear the prisoners, while they were being herded back to camp from their work sites in the evening, sigh with relief and say, Well, another day is over. It can be readily understood that such a state of strain, coupled with the constant necessity of concentrating on the task of staying alive, forced the prisoners inner life down to a primitive level. Several of my colleagues in camp who were trained in psychoanalysis often spoke of a regression in the camp inmatea crawl in to a more primitive form of mental life. His wishes and desires became obvious in his conceive ofs. What did the prisoner dream about most frequently? Of bread, cake, cigarettes, and nice warm baths.The lack of having these simple desires satisfied led him to seek wishfulfillment in dreams. Whether these dreams did any good is another matter the dreamer had to wake from them to the reali ty of camp life, and to the terrible contrast between that and his dream illusions. I shall never forget how I was roused one night by the groans of a fellow prisoner, who threw himself about in his sleep, obviously having a horrible nightmare. Since I had always been especially sorry for people who suffered from dread dreams or deliria, I wanted to wake the poor man.Suddenly I drew back the hand which was ready to shake him, scared at the thing I was about to do. At that moment I became intensely conscious of the fact that no dream, no matter how horrible, could be as bad as the reality of the camp which surrounded us, and to which I was about to recall him. Because of the high degree of undernourishment which the prisoners suffered, it was natural that the desire for food was the major primitive consciousness around which mental life centered. Let us observe the majority of prisoners when they happened to work near each other and were, for once, not closely watched.They would i mmediately start debate ing food. One fellow would ask another working next to him in the disgorge what his favorite dishes were. Then they would exchange recipes and plan the menu for the day when they would have a reunionthe day in a distant future when they would be emancipate and returned home. They would go on and on, picturing it all in detail, until suddenly a inform was passed down the trench, usually in the form of a special password or number The guard is coming. I always regarded the discussions about food as danger ous.Is it not wrong to provoke the being with such detailed and affective pictures of delicacies when it has in some manner managed to adapt itself to extremely small rations 42 Mans Search for Meaning Experiences in a Concentration Camp 43 and low calories? Though it may afford momentary psycho logical relief, it is an illusion which phy