Ken McVay
I was not prepared for my first encounter with
Ernst Zundel.
I don't know exactly what it was that I had expected, standing there in a
fourth-floor corridor of the courthouse, waiting for the morning session of
the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal to begin, but, whatever it may have
been, it bore no relationship to the reality of the man. I recall, very
clearly, being struck by the thought that Ernst Zundel is best defined by
absences.
There was no evidence of self-satisfaction in the man; no hint of
self-respect. It was, instead, the sheer dowdiness of Ernst Zundel
that rewarded one's first glance -- the shabbiness of a man who,
perhaps, finds that he is no longer able to believe in himself.
It is as if the phrase "what goes around, comes around" has returned
to possess him with a damning reality. Zundel has, after all,
devoted his life to the creation of pain, and visiting it upon others -
his victims of opportunity, the Jews. He encourages us to join him
in his endeavor by promoting his vitriol in print and on the Internet.
Zundel's open assault upon the memory of millions of Holocaust victims,
murdered by the Nazis he seems to admire so, has gotten him into hot
water with the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, which is now hearing
a complaint which holds that Mr. Zundel has used telephone lines to
promote hatred against an identifiable group.
He has published lies, and these lies create suffering in others, and
he has presumably profited from doing so. He has, as Canadian linguist
Gary
Prideaux recently noted:
If, however, as the flower children assert, "what goes around" does indeed
"come around," then perhaps we can now understand why Mr. Zundel offers now
substantially different reality.
On the last day of the October hearings, for example, he endured the clearly
humiliating experience of watching helplessly while his estranged wife,
Irene Zundel, told the world precisely which closets held all
of those embarrassing skeletons he had tried so desperately to conceal. If
ever a man had been emasculated, standing naked before the world, it was
Ernst Zundel on that Friday afternoon.. "Hell," the poets tell us, "hath no
fury like a woman scorned." Indeed.
If it is true, as many assert, that we can measure a man by the
company he keeps, one can only wonder at Ernst Zundel. He has, after all,
surrounded himself with people who have shown such contempt for the
truth that the term "liar" seems entirely too kind:
When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.
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"...singled out Jews as a special, identifiable group.
Moreover, this group is asserted to possess highly negative and criminal attributes as a group, thereby targeting the group for, e.g., hatred, revulsion, contempt, and loathing.... overt threats of violence are uttered towards Jews as a group."
I think it is fair to say that Zundel has been viewed, by most observers,
as some sort of all-pervasive devil incarnate - a great evil to hunt down
and destroy before irreparable harm resulted. The image of Ernst Zundel,
Fearless Defender of Free Speech, clad in the armor of his precious hardhat,
seems to have pervaded the community.
The reality, as opposed to whatever strange notion I had previously held, is that Ernst Zundel is nothing but a pathetic parody of himself. Looking back on the moment when we made eye contact, I can only wonder why I was so surprised when I came to understand this.