Curator, Andy Lawrence, teaches History at Hampton School and is also a Curator, Andy Lawrence, teaches History at Hampton School and is Beacon School alumnus

Film and literature should be treated as objects of critical inquiry, not just teaching aids

A central argument running through the interview with both Professors Eaglestone and Langford is that film and literature should not be used simply as efficient or emotionally powerful ways of transmitting historical information about the Holocaust. While both recognise the practical pressures teachers face, including, but not limited to, inadequate curriculum time, student engagement, and the need to convey ‘core’ knowledge, they caution against using cultural texts purely instrumentally.

Instead, they argue that films, memoirs, and novels should be interrogated as representations. This means asking students to consider how a story is told, what narrative or visual choices are made, what is emphasised or left out, and how these choices shape understanding and emotional response. For example, when Professor Langford discusses showing The World at War episode Genocide, he explains that the task is not only to learn from it, but to reflect on how the Holocaust is framed, how viewers are positioned, and how difficult material is made watchable.

This approach encourages students to become active, critical readers and viewers rather than passive recipients of meaning. It also introduces an important meta-level insight: that our knowledge of the Holocaust is always mediated through forms of representation, and understanding those forms is a crucial part of Holocaust education itself.

Effective Holocaust education requires moving beyond “Holocaust piety”

Professor Eaglestone introduces the fascinating concept of “Holocaust piety” to describe a common classroom response to the subject: a mixture of reverence, moral certainty, and emotional restraint that can unintentionally shut down thinking. These ‘pious responses’, such as formulaic expressions of respect or the sense that some texts are beyond criticism may feel appropriate, but they risk replacing engagement with ritual.

Both speakers argue that this is pedagogically limiting. If students feel unable to question a text, express confusion or boredom, or articulate discomfort, then genuine learning is curtailed. Holocaust education, they suggest, should allow space for difficult, even unsettling questions, provided they are handled responsibly and within a supportive environment.

This is particularly evident in their discussion of popular texts such as The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. Rather than accepting such works unquestioningly because they “raise awareness,” Professors Eaglestone and Langford argue that teachers must be willing to challenge their historical implausibility, narrative distortions, and emotional comforts. Avoiding criticism in the name of respect, they suggest, ultimately does a disservice both to students and to historical understanding. The key point is not that respect is unimportant, but that respect should coexist with intellectual openness. Holocaust education should model how to think carefully and ethically about the past, not merely how to respond correctly.

Holocaust films and texts are themselves historical documents

A further insight developed in this intriguing discussion is that representations of the Holocaust are not only about history; they are also of history. Films and literary works reflect the cultural, political, and moral concerns of the societies in which they were produced, and this makes them valuable historical sources in their own right.

Professor Langford’s focus and discussion of Alain Resnais’s Night and Fog is particularly illustrative. While the film offers a powerful early cinematic engagement with the camps, it also reflects post-war French anxieties about occupation, collaboration, and memory. Understanding the context in which it was made allows students to see how Holocaust memory has evolved and how different generations have struggled to represent events that resist easy explanation.

This dual perspective of seeing representations as both windows onto the Holocaust and mirrors of their own time, deepens students’ historical thinking. It shows that Holocaust memory is not fixed or settled, but continually reshaped in response to new questions, cultural shifts, and ethical debates. Teaching students to recognise this helps them understand why new Holocaust films continue to be made, and why representation remains contested.