moving. If this crisis was brought about by an
illness, he refused to be taken to the sick-bay
or to do anything to help himself. He simply
gave up. There he remained, lying in his
own excreta, and nothing bothered him any
more.
I once had a dramatic demonstration of the
close
link
between the loss of faith in the future and
this
dangerous
giving up. F
, my senior block warden, a
fairly
well-
known composer and librettist, confided in
me
one
day:
"I
would like to tell you something, Doctor. I
have
had
a
strange dream. A voice told me that I could
wish
for
some
thing, that I should only say what I wanted
to
know,
and
all my questions would be answered. What do
you
think
I
asked? That I would like to know when the
war
would
be
over for me. You know what I mean, Doctor
—for
me!
I
wanted to know when we, when our camp,
would
be
liber
ated and our sufferings come to an end."
"And when did you have this dream?" I asked.
"In February, 1945," he answered. It was
then the beginning of March.
"What did your dream voice
answer?" Furtively he whispered to
me, "March thirtieth."
When F
told me about his dream, he
was still full of
hope and convinced that the voice of his
dream
would
be
right. But as the promised day drew nearer,
the
war
news
which reached our camp made it appear very
unlikely
that
we would be free on the promised date. On
March
twenty-
ninth, F
suddenly became ill and ran a
high
tempera
ture. On March thirtieth, the day his
prophecy
had
told
him that the war and suffering would be over
for
him,
he
became delirious and lost consciousness. On
March
thirty-
first, he was dead. To all outward
appearances,
he
had
died
of typhus.
84 Man's Search
for Meaning
Those who know how close the connection is between the
state of mind of a man—his courage and hope, or lack of
them—and the state of immunity of his body will under
stand that the sudden loss of hope and courage can have a
deadly effect. The ultimate cause of my friend's death was
that the expected liberation did not come and he was se
verely disappointed. This suddenly lowered his body's resis
tance against the latent typhus infection. His faith in the
future and his will to live had become paralyzed and his
body fell victim to illness—and thus the voice of his dream
was right after all.
The observations of this one case and the conclusion
drawn from them are in accordance with something that
was drawn to my attention by the chief doctor of our con
centration camp. The death rate in the week between
Christmas, 1944, and New Year's, 1945, increased in camp
beyond all previous experience. In his opinion, the ex
planation for this increase did not lie in the harder working
conditions or the deterioration of our food supplies or a
change of weather or new epidemics. It was simply that the
majority of the prisoners had lived in the naive hope that
they would be home again by Christmas. As the time drew
near and there was no encouraging news, the prisoners lost
courage and disappointment overcame them. This had a
dangerous influence on their powers of resistance and a
great number of them died.
As we said before, any attempt to restore a man's inner
strength in the camp had first to succeed in showing him
some future goal. Nietzsche's words, "He who has a why to
live for can bear with almost any how," could be the guid
ing motto for all psychotherapeutic and psychohygienic
efforts regarding prisoners. Whenever there was an oppor
tunity for it, one had to give them a why—an aim—for
their lives, in order to strengthen them to bear the terrible
Experiences in a Concentration Camp 85
how of their existence. Woe to him who saw no more sense
in his life, no aim, no purpose, and therefore no point in
carrying on. He was soon lost. The typical reply with which
such a man rejected all encouraging arguments was, "I have
nothing to expect from life any more." What sort of answer
can one give to that?
What was really needed was a fundamental change in
our attitude toward life. We had to learn ourselves and,
furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men, that it
did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather
what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about
the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as
those who were being questioned by life—daily and hourly.
Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in
right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means
taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its
problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for
each individual.
These tasks, and therefore the meaning of life, differ
from man to man, and from moment to moment. Thus it is
impossible to define the meaning of life in a general way.
Questions about the meaning of life can never be answered
by sweeping statements. "Life" does not mean something
vague, but something very real and concrete, just as life's
tasks are also very real and concrete. They form man's des
tiny, which is different and unique for each individual. No
man and no destiny can be compared with any other man
or any other destiny. No situation repeats itself, and each
situation calls for a different response. Sometimes the situa
tion in which a man finds himself may require him to shape
his own fate by action. At other times it is more advan
tageous for him to make use of an opportunity for contem
plation and to realize assets in this way. Sometimes man
may be required simply to accept fate, to bear his cross.