Genocide is "any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: killing members of the group; causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; [and] forcibly transferring children of the group to another group."
Suffering is for the living. But what of the tens of thousands who have already been killed in the genocide in Gaza? Their deaths are irrevocable, their voices silenced, and their families left with grief that cannot be mitigated by careful words or historical nuance.
While the living debate terminology, legal definitions, and moral frameworks, the dead remain a stark, unyielding reminder of human cost.
To call attention to semantics, whether one says “Holocaust” or “Genocide,” may illuminate intellectual precision, but it cannot restore lives or erase suffering; the human loss is the same.
Suffering as a Teacher for the Living: the work of Senator Liliana Segre
It is here that the limits of selective storytelling become clear. A young Palestinian girl who loses her father, mother, and siblings experiences suffering just as profound and formative as that of Segre herself. The reality of grief, loss, and trauma is universal, yet the documentary Liliana frames moral authority almost exclusively around Segre’s Holocaust experience, giving her past suffering prominence while largely ignoring those who endure comparable atrocities today.This selective focus risks implying that some suffering is more morally consequential than others, even when human pain is equally real.
It is in this context that the work of Senator Liliana Segre takes on both profound significance and complex tension. A Holocaust survivor, Segre has spent decades transforming her personal trauma into a public mission: combating antisemitism, hate speech, and prejudice, particularly among younger generations. She seeks to instill lessons of freedom, dignity, and equality, ensuring that the memory of past horrors informs the moral choices of the present. Her life’s work reminds us that suffering can be a teacher for the living, guiding societies toward empathy and justice.
The omissions of the documentary "Liliana" dedicated to her
Yet the timing and focus of the documentary Liliana highlight a subtle tension. In the film, Segre speaks at an older age about the Holocaust, decades after the events themselves. Her recollections are inevitably filtered through reflection, historical scholarship, public discourse, and even the influence of others who have shaped Holocaust memory over time.
By contrast, the genocide in Gaza is occurring in real time, with direct human suffering visible and widely documented. Segre commented on this atrocity publicly during the period when the film was being prepared, expressing her refusal to use the term “Genocide” in some forums while acknowledging the humanitarian catastrophe—an approach that appears at odds with her earlier moral authority.
The film, however, omits this part of her public engagement,presenting her as a moral authority largely on past atrocities, without grappling with how she navigates moral judgment in the present.
This selective portrayal can appear inconsistent, if not hypocritical: the documentary elevates her as an exemplar of moral clarity and resistance to hatred, while leaving out a case in which she is actively negotiating those same principles in the real world.
The Limits of Selective Storytelling
Her nuanced stance on Gaza—acknowledging civilian suffering but refusing to use the term “genocide” publicly—highlights a broader tension between conceptual caution and moral immediacy.
While her caution preserves the historical weight of the Holocaust, it can appear to limit the ethical urgency applied to current atrocities, particularly in light of the tens of thousands of lives already extinguished and the hundreds of thousands of survivors whose suffering will echo for generations, just as Segre’s memory of the Holocaust continues to resonate and shape ethical reflection today.
Thus, the film occupies a dual space: it is both a legitimate historical and educational documentary about Segre’s life and civic mission and a work that, whether intentionally or not, has symbolic and propagandistic potential. By focusing selectively on the Holocaust and educational work, the film frames her moral authority in a way that resonates politically while avoiding the discomfort of her contemporaneous judgments, creating a gap between her historical lessons and present-day moral choices.
Ultimately, “Liliana” reminds viewers of the power of memory and moral witness, but it also illustrates the limits of selective storytelling: the lessons we learn from survivors are mediated not only by what they remember but also by what is chosen for public consumption.
Words, labels, and careful phrasing cannot substitute for moral recognition; whether one says “Holocaust” or “Genocide,” the human suffering and loss remain the same, and honouring both the living and the dead requires confronting the ethical challenges of the present, however stark or uncomfortable they may be.
