80 Years Later:- The King Is Dead—No Tears for the Furious Führer

Bikash Narayan Mishra
Exactly eighty years since Adolf Hitler’s death by suicide in his Berlin bunker on April 30, 1945—the world stands once again at a solemn crossroads of memory. Hitler, the architect of the Holocaust and instigator of a global conflagration claiming some 70 million lives, represented a moral nadir that continues to cast a long shadow over human history. Yet today, after eight decades on, there is an unsettling impulse—both abroad and within Germany—to consign this chapter to the dusty shelves of the past, to “move on,” and to forget the demon whose hate nearly destroyed civilization.
The Machinery of Hate: Atrocities Against Jews and Humanity
Under Hitler’s rule, Germany transformed into a genocidal machine. From the passage of the Nuremberg Laws in 1935, which codified Jews as sub‑human, to the “Final Solution” decreed at the Wannsee Conference in January 1942, the Third Reich systematically exterminated six million Jewish men, women, and children. Across occupied Europe, mobile killing units (Einsatzgruppen) shot more than a million Jews, while death camps—Auschwitz‑Birkenau, Treblinka, Sobibór—harnessed industrial methods of mass murder, including gas chambers and crematoria.
But the Holocaust was only one facet of Hitler’s immense brutality. His aggressive campaigns unleashed the Second World War, leaving behind a trail of death: tens of millions of soldiers and civilians perished in battle, bombings, forced labor camps, famine, and disease. Slavic populations were subjected to racial subjugation; Roma (Gypsies), the disabled, political dissidents, and other “undesirables” were rounded up, starved, experimented upon, and murdered.
In total, Hitler’s policies wrought the greatest human tragedy in recorded history—an orgy of violence that tested the limits of human cruelty.
The Seduction of Forgetting: Why the World Would Rather Move On
In the decades after 1945, many nations grappled with the enormity of the Holocaust and the war. As survivors sought to rebuild shattered lives, the psychological weight of remembrance proved crushing. For countless individuals, the imperative was to rebuild families, homes, and cities—often at the cost of confronting haunting memories.
On the international stage, “Never Again” morphed into a slogan, but not always into sustained vigilance. Conflicts in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia, and elsewhere showed that genocide could—and would—resurge. Yet collective consciousness is fragile: mass media’s relentless churn, new geopolitical crises, and the passage of time conspire to relegate even the darkest chapters to footnotes. History curricula thin out, museums close sections on the Holocaust for lack of visitors, and younger generations, distant from the event, risk seeing it as a symbol rather than a reality. Thus, the temptation is to chart a forward course, to consign “the demon” to history, and to justify that “these things happen.”
Germany’s Burden and Its Unfinished Reckoning
In Germany itself, the struggle between remembrance and forgetting has been particularly intense. The post‑war generation—the “Flakhelfer” and their children—faced a profound moral reckoning known as Vergangenheitsbewältigung, or “struggling to overcome the past.” Monuments like Berlin’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, which if someone visits is bound to have couple of sleepless nights – as it happened with me and many others – the annual Holocaust Remembrance Day (January 27), and the Stolpersteine (stumbling stones) embedded in sidewalks all affirm Germany’s commitment to memory.
Yet even here, voices have emerged urging a pivot from memorials toward a “normal” national identity. Some argue that endless focus on guilt impedes a healthy patriotism; others lament that the younger generation feels alienated by a legacy they never chose. Political debates occasionally flare when proposals to tone down Holocaust education or to remove memorials gain traction. The danger is that, in seeking to heal, Germany might forget that the foundations of its modern democracy were built on the painful admission of collective wrongdoing.
Lessons Humanity Must Never Forget
1.Vigilance Against Hate Ideologies. Hate rarely emerges fully formed. It grows through incremental dehumanization—words become policies, policies become violence. Democracies must remain alert to pernicious rhetoric.
2.The Power of Bystanders. Ordinary people enabled Hitler’s rise by looking the other way or welcoming scapegoating. The lesson: silence in the face of injustice is complicity. Active citizenship—speaking out, protecting the vulnerable—is essential.
3.Universality of Human Rights. The Holocaust galvanized the birth of international human‐rights law, from the Genocide Convention (1948) to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Upholding these norms requires constant renewal: responding decisively to mass‑atrocity warnings from any corner of the globe.
4.Education as a Bulwark. Accurate, unvarnished history education inoculates against denial and distortion. Programmes bringing survivors’ testimonies into classrooms, digital archives of documents, and interactive museum exhibits all serve to engrain lessons for new generations.
5.Memory with Purpose. Remembering atrocities is not an exercise in self‑flagellation, but a springboard for moral action: building inclusive societies, combating racism, and fostering empathy across differences.
On this eightieth anniversary of the demon’s demise the world should pause—not to relive the horror for its own sake, but to renew the promise of “Never Again.” Forgetting Hitler’s crimes is not a path to peace; it is an open door for history to repeat itself under new guises. Germany’s painstaking memorial culture offers a model: remembrance imbued with responsibility, grief transformed into resolve.
In our interconnected age, the lessons of Hitler’s atrocities echo with fresh urgency. From the rise of xenophobic movements to crises of displaced peoples, the specter of mass violence still stalks societies. We honor the victims best by ensuring that the memory of what “the demon” wrought becomes the foundation upon which we build vigilance, compassion, and justice—for ourselves, and for generations yet unborn.

( Writer is Ex Banker and Senior Advisor Indian Banks Association)