It is a privilege to open today’s debate to mark Holocaust memorial day 2024 and to follow the debates in previous years that were led by Jackson Carlaw and Fergus Ewing, which show the strong cross-party commitment to this motion in the Parliament.

Now, as ever, i t remains incredibly important to come together to pause, reflect and remember the six million Jews who were murdered by the Nazis, alongside millions of others, including Roma and Sinti people, disabled people and LGBT people. We also call to mind the millions of others who lived through and survived the Holocaust but lost everything—family, dignity, health and home.

Now, as in years gone by, we recommit ourselves and our efforts to the statement, “Never again”, but we know that, tragically, since the Holocaust, humanity has not lived up to that statement in many places across the globe, including Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Darfur. We remember those people today, too.

“Never again” is a phrase that should apply not only to genocide but to the hate and persecution that surround the horrific acts of mass murder that we have seen.

The theme developed by the Holocaust Memorial Day Trust for this year’s commemorations is “Fragility of Freedom”. The horrors of the Holocaust—indeed, the horrors of most genocides in humanity’s collective history—do not come from nowhere. Acts of targeted mass murder are preceded by an erosion of freedoms in order to control populations and make the terrors that follow easier to perpetrate.

In the lead-up to the Holocaust, Jews and other groups that were targeted by the Nazis had many of their freedoms and rights restricted and removed. The freedom to study, work and live wherever they wanted was restricted. Jews were removed from educational establishments, had their businesses attacked and destroyed and were forced into ghettos.

The freedoms of self-identity, religion and marriage were limited, as Jews became a defined class for discrimination under the Nuremberg laws, which restricted whom they could marry. The freedom to engage in leisure and other activities was also restricted, as Jews were banned from cinemas, theatres and sports facilities.

Those are all freedoms that we often take for granted in the modern era. Although many of us cannot conceive of losing a single one of those freedoms, they are fragile, and, in recent times, our world has become a more uncertain place in that regard.

It is not only the freedoms of groups targeted by those carrying out genocidal acts that are restricted—frequently, the freedoms of all people are limited to prevent people from speaking out. During the Holocaust, the targeting of opposition politicians, journalists and dissenting voices of the Nazi regime ensured that information control and propaganda in the population stopped people speaking out and opposing atrocities. We have seen that pattern repeated in other genocides, such as that in Rwanda, where the infamous Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines spewed hatred against the Tutsis to lay the ground, through propaganda, for what would follow.

Ultimately, the Holocaust and other crimes of genocide result in the loss of that fundamental freedom—the freedom to live. Now more than ever, it is important for survivors and people born after the Holocaust and other genocides to recognise that, just because the atrocities have stopped and society begins to normalise, freedom does not always fully return, and survivors have to live with the reality of what they have experienced.

Growing up in East Renfrewshire, I have had the privilege of meeting and hearing at first hand from a number of survivors. Their children now carry on the work of telling their story, because so few survivors now remain. On Monday evening, at the East Renfrewshire commemoration event, I had the privilege to, once again, hear the story of Marianne Grant, who survived a number of camps, including Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen. Marianne was a painter who literally painted for her life—she was forced to record images of the horrendous experiments of the angel of death, Dr Josef Mengele. Marianne’s story is the very embodiment of the fragility of freedom.

For those who have lived through such times, freedom as it once was does not fully return. People lose livelihoods and homes. They often have no choice but to move to new countries, as so many Jewish people have done. People are restricted by the mental and physical trauma of what they have experienced. It can be hard to trust. Understandably, after all that has been experienced, it is hard for people to trust those in their new country, to trust that their freedoms will be guaranteed and to trust that they have complete freedom.

For many groups, the entrenched stigma and hate that are drilled into people through those periods remain, and their freedom remains less than that of their fellow citizens. For example, it was not until many decades later that gay men who had been imprisoned by the Nazis and around the world gained full rights and stopped being viewed as criminals.

The legacy of hate hurts not just those who survived but members of persecuted groups who are born long after. In the context of the Holocaust, Jews in our communities, including in East Renfrewshire, still have to face the vile words and actions of antisemitism and Holocaust denialism. For many, the lessons of the Holocaust—the ways in which Jews and others were victimised, othered and expelled—have still not been learned.

It is incumbent on us all, as representatives of the people of Scotland in this Parliament, to stand up and to recommit to combating antisemitism, racism, hatred and attacks on people’s freedoms without equivocation. This year, let us once again redouble our focus on protecting those fragile freedoms, watch our own words and deeds, and watch the words and deeds of others, whether in our community, in this Parliament or elsewhere, so that we do not allow the fragile freedoms to shatter any further.

We must ensure that we, with one voice, say, “Never again”, and that we have a Scotland where all people can walk free of hatred and fear. [

Applause

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