The Diary of Anne Frank has been praised for its literary merits. Eleanor Roosevelt described it as “one of the wisest and most moving commentaries on war and its impact on human beings that I have ever read.” John F. Kennedy in a 1961 speech said, “Of all the multitudes who throughout history have spoken for human dignity in times of great suffering and loss, no voice is more compelling than that of Anne Frank.” In the same year, the Soviet writer Ilya Ehrenburg wrote of her: “one voice speaks for six million — the voice not of a sage or a poet but of an ordinary little girl.” As Anne Frank’s legend has grown, she has moved from a symbol of the Holocaust to a representative of persecution.
Hillary Clinton, accepting the 1994 Elie Wiesel Humanitarian Award, read from Anne Frank’s diary and spoke of her “awakening us to the folly of indifference and the terrible toll it takes on our young,” which Clinton related to contemporary events in Sarajevo, Somalia and Rwanda. After receiving a humanitarian award from the Anne Frank Foundation in 1994, Nelson Mandela addressed a crowd in Johannesburg, saying he had read Anne Frank’s diary while in prison and “derived much encouragement from it.” He likened her struggle against Nazism to his struggle against apartheid, drawing a parallel between the two philosophies: “Because these beliefs are patently false, and because they were, and will always be, challenged by the likes of Anne Frank, they are bound to fail.” Also in 1994, Václav Havel said “Anne Frank’s legacy is very much alive and it can address us fully” in relation to the political and social changes occurring at the time in former Eastern Bloc countries. In June 1999 Time magazine selected Anne Frank as one of the “Heroes & Icons” in it’s “Time 100: The Most Important People of the Century” issue.
All historians love diarists — in particular those diaries written at the time of the event. These accounts offer pure, unvarnished accounts of events in real time before the outcome or conclusion of an event was known. In Anne Frank’s case, her diary speaks volumes. The diary is so emotionally overwhelming that one passage within it is often overlooked. It was Anne’s last entry, made 70 years ago this week on August 1, 1944.
“Dearest Kitty, ‘A bundle of contradictions’ was the end of my previous letter and is the beginning of this one. Can you please tell me exactly what ‘a bundle of contradictions’ is? What does ‘contradiction’ mean? Like so many words, it can be interpreted in two ways: a contradiction imposed from without and one imposed from within. The former means not accepting other people’s opinions, always knowing best, having the last word; in short, all those unpleasant traits for which I’m known. The latter, for which I’m not known, is my own secret.
“As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with flirtations, a kiss, an embrace, a saucy joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other one, which is much purer, deeper, and finer.
“No one knows Anne’s better side, and that’s why most people can’t stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that everyone’s had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I’m what a romantic film is to a profound thinker — a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either.
“I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn’t I admit it when I know it’s true? My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne — to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why. I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously.
“I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the ‘lighthearted’ Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the ‘deeper’ Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeared.
“So the nice Anne is never seen in company. She’s never made a single appearance, though she almost always takes the stage when I’m alone. I know exactly how I’d like to be, how I am . . . on the inside. But unfortunately I’m only like that with myself. And perhaps that’s why — no, I’m sure that’s the reason why — I think of myself as happy on the inside and other people think I’m happy on the outside. I’m guided by the pure Anne within, but on the outside I’m nothing but a frolicsome little goat tugging at its tether.
“As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being a boy-chaser, a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she couldn’t care less. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way.
“If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I’m always up against a more powerful enemy. A voice within me is sobbing, ‘You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.’
“Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be ill, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up any more, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if . . . if only there were no other people in the world. Yours, Anne M. Frank”
Three days later, on the morning of August 4, 1944, following a tip from an informer who was never identified, the Frank’s attic hideout was stormed by a group of uniformed German SS police. The family was taken to SS headquarters, where they were interrogated and held overnight. On August 5th they were transferred to the grossly overcrowded House of Detention prison. Two days later they were transported to the Westerbork transit camp, through which by that time more than 100,000 Jews, mostly Dutch and German, had passed. Having been arrested in hiding, they were considered criminals and were sent to the Punishment Barracks for hard labor.
Anne Frank was eventually transported to the Auschwitz death camp, then sent to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp where she died of typhus in March of 1945. Yes, the world lost an innocent. But what is almost always forgotten is that the world also lost one helluva writer.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
