When appointments to Holocaust memorial institutions are treated like political favors, we risk desecrating the very history they are meant to preserve.
The Shoah—an unfathomable tragedy marked by the systematic extermination of 6 million Jews and millions of other innocent victims—is not just a chapter of Jewish suffering. It is a universal benchmark of humanity’s failure and a moral warning for every nation, every generation. The institutions that safeguard this memory, such as the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Council, are not ceremonial perks to be handed out or revoked at the whim of shifting political winds. They are sacred responsibilities, entrusted to those who will treat remembrance as a mission, not a partisan marker.
Yet in recent days, a full sweep of this council has drawn headlines—not for what it accomplishes, but for what it reveals: that even the memory of genocide is vulnerable to political cycles. The removal of members, including prominent public figures, appears less a renewal of vision than a reminder that nothing is immune from retaliation or symbolic purging. This is not just shortsighted. It is dangerous.
The Shoah has taught us that dehumanization begins long before violence. It starts with silencing, with historical revisionism, with the casual manipulation of truth to serve power. That is why institutions of remembrance matter so deeply. They are the brakes against forgetting, the conscience of our civic life. When those institutions are politicized—emptied, replaced, weaponized—they risk becoming echoes of the very forces they were built to oppose.
This is not a debate about any single individual’s credentials. There will always be discussions over who is best suited to carry the torch of remembrance. But those debates should be driven by commitment, scholarship and the capacity to inspire—never by partisan litmus tests or political vendettas.
We must ask ourselves a serious question: Who is remembrance for? If it is only for those aligned with the current party in power, it is not a remembrance at all. If it is used to score points or erase rivals, it loses the depth of its meaning, its heart and soul. And if we allow such trends to continue unchecked, the next generation will not inherit the lessons of the Shoah. They will inherit the dysfunction of a society too distracted by political games to honor its own moral history.
Preserving the memory of the Holocaust should not be about nostalgia or ceremony. It is about guarding a truth so horrifying, so essential, that forgetting it invites repetition. The Shoah is the clearest moral line history has drawn. To obscure it for the sake of political maneuvering is not only irresponsible, but also a betrayal.
Our charge must be higher. We must treat Holocaust memory as a national trust, worthy of leaders from all walks of life who embody humility, empathy and an unwavering dedication to truth. We must demand that appointments to remembrance institutions rise above political currents, rooted instead in a fierce commitment to education, to justice, and to the sacred act of memory. Because if we can’t protect the memory of the Shoah from the pettiness of our politics, what hope do we have of learning from it?
Dr. Michael J Salamon is a psychologist who specializes in trauma and abuse. He is the director of ADC Psychological Services in Netanya, Israel and Hewlett, New York, and is on staff at Northwell, New Hyde Park, New York.
Louis Libin is an expert in military strategies and innovation, and advises and teaches military innovation, wireless systems and emergency communications at military colleges and agencies. He founded a consulting group for emergency management, cybersecurity, IP and communications.
