Op-Ed Contributor: Demjanjuk in Munich

LAST week a German court in Munich found John Demjanjuk guilty of 28,060 counts of accessory to murder, one for each of the Jews exterminated during the six months that he worked as a guard at the Sobibor death camp in Poland. The Demjanjuk trial will probably be the last Holocaust war crimes trial to grab the world’s attention.

For many, especially those in younger generations, the trial against Mr. Demjanjuk, a 91-year-old former Ohio autoworker now confined to a wheelchair, may seem the awkward fulfillment of the notion that history plays itself out first as tragedy, then as farce. Coincidentally, this year is the 50th anniversary of the trial of Adolf Eichmann, a case that, in its significance, appears to dwarf the Demjanjuk proceedings.

But while Eichmann did play a larger role in the Holocaust than Mr. Demjanjuk, we must resist the conclusion that one is more significant than the other. Indeed, the Demjanjuk trial, as much as the Eichmann case, has volumes to teach us about the complex relationship between genocide and justice.

The Demjanjuk case matters, above all, because there was never much doubt that he had been a vicious prison guard under the Nazis. After living for more than 30 years in the United States, he was deported to Israel in 1986, where he was tried and sentenced to death. Unfortunately, prosecutors had misidentified him as a guard at the Treblinka camp known as Ivan the Terrible, and Mr. Demjanjuk was released in 1993.

What followed was 16 years of legal wrangling as Mr. Demjanjuk, now back in the United States, fought efforts to retry or deport him. Finally, Germany succeeded in extraditing him in 2009. Last week’s decision, then, was proof that the rule of law works, however slowly.

Of course, it’s that slow pace that had many asking why Germany was bothering to try Mr. Demjanjuk in the first place. Wasn’t there something comic, even shameful, about dragging a dying man across the Atlantic to stand trial for a crime he committed over a half century ago? Shouldn’t there be a statute of limitations on even the most heinous crimes?

No, and the trial reaffirms that society rejects that idea. Those who participate in genocide, in whatever capacity, should never rest easy. Nor should they assume that if they delay justice enough, their case will be abandoned. This lesson may matter more today than ever: after all, the hunt for Holocaust killers may be over, but the hunt for those who practiced genocide in the former Yugoslavia, Rwanda and far too many other places must continue.

The Demjanjuk trial also underlines the lessons learned from Eichmann. Like Mr. Demjanjuk, Eichmann claimed he was only a small cog in the wheel. Both men argued that they did not have the choice to say no; it was kill or be killed.

However, as Hannah Arendt argued in “Eichmann in Jerusalem,” every machine part is of crucial importance. Removing a small cog has the same impact as removing a large one: the machine stops working. Both men could have said no with few consequences; no defense lawyer or historian has found evidence of someone being killed for refusing to participate in the Holocaust. But these men chose not to refuse.

True, the outcomes for the two men will be different: Eichmann was the only person in Israel’s history to be executed; Mr. Demjanjuk will probably die in his bed as his lawyers appeal his sentence.

But what happened at both of these trials is more important than the ultimate fates of the guilty. Now as then, the victims were given a chance to tell their story, not in a book, interview or speech, but in a court of law. At the Eichmann trial close to 100 witnesses testified about their suffering. At the Demjanjuk trial we heard from the victims’ children. They joined the prosecutor in pointing their fingers at the man who facilitated their parents’ murders. In other words, the Demjanjuk trial proves that while Eichmann himself may be history, the robust process that made Holocaust trials into something more than mere court proceedings is still effective.

And finally, the Demjanjuk case, by its very complexity, is a fitting coda to the Eichmann trial because it reminds us that adjudicating genocide is, like the act itself, rarely straightforward. These cases raise difficult questions about how to punish different types of participation in a genocide; does a guard who carried it out deserve more or less punishment than a bureaucrat who planned it?

These trials do not ever truly offer closure, even decades after the crime. Indeed, cases like Mr. Demjanjuk’s are in some sense only the beginning of a process of reckoning and understanding, a process whose burden now falls not on the courts, but on the rest of us.

Deborah E. Lipstadt is a professor of modern Jewish and Holocaust studies at Emory University and the author of “The Eichmann Trial.”

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World Briefing | Europe: Demjanjuk Taken to Nursing Home

MUNICH — John Demjanjuk was released from a Munich prison on Friday, the day after he was convicted of taking part in the murder of 28,000 Jews during World War II. He was taken to a nursing care facility to await the outcome of appeals of his conviction and five-year prison sentence.

Mr. Demjanjuk, 91, left Stadelheim prison, where he has been held for two years, at about 4:30 p.m. local time Friday according to Michael Stumpf, the prison director. Mr. Stumpf declined to disclose the name of the nursing facility, saying that Mr. Demjanjuk had requested that he not do so.

The prosecution of Mr. Demjanjuk may be one of the last major Nazi war crimes trials. A panel of judges found that, contrary to his denials, Mr. Demjanjuk, Ukrainian by birth, had worked as a guard at the Sobibor concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland in 1943. The court found that there was no way that any guard at the death camp could not have participated in the extermination of prisoners there.

The court found that, considering his age, his infirmity and the fact the he is now a stateless person, there was little chance that he would try to flee while his appeals progress. But the order to release him Thursday presented authorities with a conundrum, because it was unclear where he would go.

The release Friday followed an intensive search by prison authorities for a facility that would accept Mr. Demjanjuk. “It was very difficult,” Mr. Stumpf said.

Mr. Demjanjuk will remain free at least until the appeals process runs its course. Margarete N?tzel, a judge who is spokesman for the Munich courts, estimated that the appeals would take a year and a half, but she said two years was also plausible. Just compiling documents and transcripts from the trial could take six months, she said. Mr. Demjanjuk spent much of the trial in a bed set up in the courtroom or in a wheelchair. Mr. Demjanjuk’s son, John Demjanjuk Jr., said in an e-mail Friday that his father requires weekly medical treatment for a bone marrow and blood disorder, chronic kidney disease and severe degeneration of the spine.

However, Cornelius Nestler, a law professor who acted on behalf of a dozen Holocaust victims during the trial, accused the elder Mr. Demjanjuk of “exorbitantly” exaggerating the seriousness of his ailments. During final arguments last month, Mr. Nestler noted that while Mr. Demjanjuk lay almost lifeless in the courtroom he would joke with reporters outside.

On Thursday, relatives of Sobibor victims, who were recognized as co-complainants for the trial, said they were more concerned with raising awareness of what happened at Sobibor than exacting revenge on Mr. Demjanjuk, whose two years in pretrial detention will count toward his sentence, leaving him about three years left to serve if his appeals fail.

Rudie S. Cortissos, who lost his mother in Sobibor and survived the war by hiding in Amsterdam, said on Friday that he regretted that Mr. Demjanjuk will be able to live in peace during the appeals. But Mr. Cortissos also said in an e-mail message: “It does not upset me. A decision made by judges in a democratic country like Germany should be accepted.”

Under German law, defendants should not be held unless they are considered likely to flee. Still, the decision to let Mr. Demjanjuk out of jail angered some. “We feel that this is an insult to his victims and to the survivors,” Rabbi Marvin Hier, a founder of the Simon Wiesenthal Center Los Angeles, said in a statement Thursday.

The verdict comes after decades of legal proceedings in three countries involving Mr. Demjanjuk, who emigrated to the United States after the war and became an auto worker in Ohio. After losing his American citizenship in 1985 for lying about his past, Mr. Demjanjuk was deported to Israel and accused of being a particularly brutal guard known as Ivan the Terrible at the Treblinka camp in occupied Poland.

But an Israeli high court overturned his conviction and death sentence in that case in 1993, ruling that Mr. Demjanjuk was not Ivan even though it appeared he had been a guard at a different camp, Sobibor.

Mr. Demjanjuk returned to the United States, but after more years of legal proceedings he was deported to Germany in 2009 to face trial.

The long legal battle made Mr. Demjanjuk one of the most well-known war crimes suspects, even though he was said to have ranked low in the camp hierarchy.

Mr. Demjanjuk’s defense lawyers argued that an SS identity card and other documents were falsified by the Soviets. But Judge Alt said there was a clear trail of documents and testimony that demonstrated Mr. Demjanjuk’s path from Soviet prisoner of war to Sobibor guard.

Jack Ewing reported from Munich, and Alan Cowell from Paris. Stefan Pauly contributed reporting from Berlin.