In Auschwitz, the margin between survival and death is extremely thin. The author, Levi, only manages to survive through a combination of shrewd thinking and good fortune. This precarious mix of chance and skill suggests that one’s meager chances of survival are dictated largely by their ability to be resourceful and adapt to the new hellish environment they find themselves in, although even the most resourceful individual can be struck down by poor luck.
The conditions of Auschwitz are set so that its prisoners will naturally die in high numbers, meaning that any prisoner who does not learn to adapt and develop new resources will die within months. Since new prisoners are constantly arriving and the Lager can only hold so many, it suits the Germans that their Jewish subjects perish frequently to make room for new arrivals. Thus, the Jewish prisoners are only given a bit of watery soup and small pieces of bread to eat each day—hardly enough for a person to live on even if they weren’t subjected to brutal forced labor. Despite the frigid winters of Poland, the prisoners must march and work outside wearing only a thin shirt or a ragged jacket. Predictably, the majority of prisoners die within their first three months. Even if one is able to withstand the physical hardships, the very appearance of weakness is dangerous, since it makes one a prime target for the “selection”: the annual culling of weak prisoners to be sent to the neighboring death camp to make room for new arrivals. Thus, to survive, a prisoner must not only protect their own physical condition, but also defend their reputation and appearance as someone strong and healthy enough to be continually useful as a laborer. With such lethal conditions, death is nearly unavoidable as the most likely outcome for any Jewish prisoner who enters Auschwitz, thus suggesting that one can only survive through extraordinary measures.
Levi argues that the ability to adapt is not only critical to survival but distinguishes the Jewish prisoners into two groups, depicting how one group endures while the other dies. Although the most common response by prisoners is to keep one’s head down and do as they’re told, Levi describes such men as “the drowned,” indicating the manner in which they will be swallowed by the lethality of the camp. “To sink is the easiest of matters; it is enough to carry out all the orders one receives, to eat only the ration, to observe the discipline of the work and the camp.” Such men, Levi remarks, are “overcome before they can adapt themselves” by making advantageous relationships, learning how to acquire extra food, or learning enough German to avoid the anger of camp guards. This suggests that to simply try to endure the Lager is to invite one’s own death. By contrast, Levi refers to those who quickly learn the new rules of the Lager and adapt to the harsh environment as “the saved” individuals who manage to scheme or manipulate their way into the good graces of the camp commanders, and thus live on extra rations and avoid the most dangerous work. This is exemplified by the oldest prisoners in the camp who have managed to survive for several years—an extremely small number of people—not one of whom did so by living as a normal prisoner or “subsisting on a normal ration,” but who quickly established themselves as essential camp doctors, tailors, or overseers by “organizing” advantageous relationships with the Germans. The disparity between “the saved” and “the drowned” demonstrates that the small number of people who manage to survive Auschwitz for any length of time are those who possess a greater-than-average level of resourcefulness and resilience, suggesting that in such an environment, such adaptability is key to survival.
Even for the most adaptable individual, however, life in Auschwitz is so severe and unpredictable that luck and chance play nearly as significant a role as one’s adaptability. Despite all the cunning of “the saved,” the cruelty of the Germans and the extremely narrow margin between survival and death mean that often a simple accident, an unfortunate selection for a dangerous work assignment, or a harsh word can be a death sentence even for the most resourceful prisoner. Nowhere is the role of chance more apparent than in the annual selections of prisoners to be sent to the death camps. Although the selections are made based on each prisoner’s appearance of health or usefulness, the Germans process such a large number of prisoners that they make each decision on whom to condemn and whom to save in less than a second, with only a glance at each man. When the choosing of Auschwitz laborers from the new arrivals takes too long, the Germans begin sorting based only on which side of the train carriage each man exits from, arbitrarily sending one half to their death and the other to labor. The banality of the selections and the unpredictability of being condemned or spared suggests that, as important as adaptability and resourcefulness are to survival in Auschwitz, in such a lethal environment, everyone is ultimately at the mercy of luck and chance.
Levi’s extraordinary survival in the Auschwitz labor camp is a harrowing combination of resourcefulness, adaptability, and chance, demonstrating just how narrow the margin between life and death is for him and his fellow Jewish prisoners.
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Adaptability, Chance, and Survival Quotes in Survival in Auschwitz
Here we received the first blows; and it was so new and senseless that we felt no pain, neither in body nor in spirit. Only a profound amazement: how can one hit a man without anger?
And it is this refrain that we hear repeated by everyone: you are not at him, this is not a sanatorium, the only exit is by way of the Chimney.
And do not think that shoes form a factor of secondary importance in the life of the Lager. Death begins with the shoes; for most of us, they show themselves to be instruments of torture, which after a few hours of marching cause painful sores which become fatally infected.
Precisely because the Lager was a great machine to reduce us to beasts, we must not become beasts; that even in this place once can survive, and therefore one must want to survive, to tell the story, to bear witness; and to survive we must force ourselves to save at least the skeleton, the scaffolding, the form of civilization.
In this discreet and composed manner, without display or anger, massacre moves through the huts of Ka-Be every day, touching here or there.
A day begins like every day, so long as not to allow us reasonably to conceive its end, so much cold, so much hunger, so much exhaustion separates us from it: so that it is better to concentrate one’s attention on the block of grey bread, which is small but will certainly be ours in an hour, and which for five minutes, until we have devoured it, will form everything that the law of the place allows us to possess.
At least for a few hours, no quarrels arise, we feel good, the Kapo feels no urge to hit us, and we are able to think of our mothers and wives, which usually does not happen. For a few hours we can be unhappy in the manner of free men.
We now invite the reader to contemplate the possible meaning in the Lager of the words “good” and “evil”, “just” and “unjust”; let everybody judge […] how much of our ordinary moral world could survive on this side of the barbed wire.
We would also like to consider that the Lager was preeminently a gigantic biological and social experiment.
Thousands of individuals, differing in age, condition, origin, language, culture and customs, are enclosed within barbed wire: they live a regular, controlled life which is identical to all and inadequate to all needs, and which is more rigorous than any experimenter could have set up to establish what is essential and what adventitious to the conduct of the human animal in the struggle for life.
To sink is the easiest of matters; it is enough to carry out all the orders one receives, to eat only the ration, to observe the discipline of the work and the camp. Experience showed that only exceptionally could one survive more than three months this way.
More generally, experience had shown us many times the vanity of every conjecture; why worry oneself trying to read the into the future when no action, no word of ours could have the minimum influence?
I believe that it was really due to Lorenzo that I am alive today; and not so much for his material aid, as for his having reminded me by his presence, by his natural and plain manner of being good, that there still existed a a just world outside our own, something and someone still pure and whole, not corrupt, not savage, extraneous to hatred and terror; something difficult to define, a remote possibility of good, but for which it was worth surviving.
Does Kuhn not understand that what has happened today is an abomination, which no propitiatory prayer, no pardon, no expiation by the guilty, which nothing at all in the power of man can ever clean again?
If I was God, I would spit at Kuhn’s prayer.
What a good boy Kraus must have been as a civilian: he will not survive very long here, one can see it at first glance, it is as logical as a theorem.
But in the morning, I hardly escape the raging wind and cross the doorstep of the laboratory when I find at my side the comrade of all my peaceful moments, of Ka-Be, of the rest-Sundays—the pain of remembering, the old ferocious suffering of feeling myself a man again, which attacks me life a dog the moment my conscience comes out of the gloom.
At the foot of the gallows, the SS watch us pass with indifferent eyes: their work is finished, and well-finished. The Russians can come now: there are no longer any strong men among us, the last one is now hanging above our heads.
