Germar Rudolf, Resistance Is Obligatory (2012; PDF-Datei

GERMAR RUDOLF, RESISTANCE IS OBLIGATORY
An even more drastic case is the daughter of a then girlfriend of
mine. In 2002 at the age of 13 this daughter was for the first time in her
life confronted with the Holocaust during a history lesson at school.
After she had watched a movie at school with the usual heaps of corpses
and the corresponding comments, she came back home completely distraught,
stammering something to the effect that she had seen the devil
and that she is terribly scared. We had to take her out of her history
class for that phase in order to prevent further psychological damage.
The last example occurred in the summer of 2000 when some American
friends of mine and I visited the Museum of Tolerance of the Simon
Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles, which is basically a Holocaust
museum. After touring the museum we attended a lecture by an Auschwitz
survivor. Apart from us there were mostly students at the estimated
age of 12 to 14 years in the room. The lecturer told us about her alleged
experiences in Auschwitz, during which she included things which are
nowadays considered untrue even by the mainstream version of history,
like flame-belching chimneys, soap production from the body fat of
victims, and corpses strewn all over the camp which burned spontaneously.
At the end of her lecture we were allowed to ask questions, upon
which an acquaintance of mine asked the lecturer what she thought
about the fact that even the worldwide leading research institute Yad
Vashem in Israel has stated that the claim about soap production from
human fat is a propaganda lie. She had hardly asked the question, when
a grumbling and murmuring went through the room, for already those
students had understood that it is a sacrilege to doubt the statements of a
survivor.
When we wanted to leave the room at the end of this event, my acquaintance
found herself surrounded by students accusing her as to how
she could dare to doubt the statements of a survivor, because at the end
of it, it was the survivor who had been in Auschwitz, but not my acquaintance.
When I tried to help her with arguments, the students noticed
from my accent that I am a German, upon which the entire situation
became ugly, because those adolescents now started becoming personal
and insulted me. The teacher of this school class terminated the
conflict by cajoling the children into leaving. We then went to the underground
parking lot to our car. There we once more met some of these
students, who were making disparaging remarks about us from the
distance. I took that as a reason to walk over to them in order to ask
them to concider why this building is called “Museum of Tolerance.” I
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