The town of Oświęcim will return to the global spotlight on Monday when several heads of state, along with monarchs and other high-profile delegates, gather to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the liberation of the world’s most notorious concentration camp.
Yet as unfamiliar as the town’s name might seem to those outside of Poland, its German title—Auschwitz—will require no introduction.
Commonly regarded as the epicenter of the single largest genocide in history, the town’s association with the Holocaust has left a lasting stain on its name; but though seemingly damned to infamy, Oświęcim is emerging from under the weight of its recent history to reclaim its identity.
Commonly regarded as the epicenter of the single largest genocide in history, the town’s association with the Holocaust has left a lasting stain on its name; but though seemingly damned to infamy, Oświęcim is emerging from under the weight of its recent history to reclaim its identity.
“Oświęcim isn’t some black hole at the end of the world,” says Tomasz Kuncewicz, the director of the Auschwitz Jewish Center Foundation. “Before the Nazis came, this was a normal, small town in the middle of Europe, so it’s important to visit the actual town to understand this and see that genocide can happen anywhere.”
For Oświęcim, history did not begin in 1940 with the first wartime prisoner transports, but in 1272 when the town was granted its charter.
Set on the fork of the Sola and Wisła rivers, for centuries it flourished as a center of mercantile trade, earning its prosperity from the salt and fish business—in fact, so famed was it for the latter, it’s said that the Royal Court in Krakow sourced their fish directly from the town.
For Oświęcim, history did not begin in 1940 with the first wartime prisoner transports, but in 1272 when the town was granted its charter.
Set on the fork of the Sola and Wisła rivers, for centuries it flourished as a center of mercantile trade, earning its prosperity from the salt and fish business—in fact, so famed was it for the latter, it’s said that the Royal Court in Krakow sourced their fish directly from the town.
These golden years ended abruptly in 1655 with the so-called Swedish Deluge. Ransacked by marauding Swedish soldiers, the chaos left Oświęcim a hollow husk—by 1676, only 114 residents remained.
Even then, however, Oświęcim proved resilient. Bouncing back with the onset of the Industrial Revolution, the establishment of a rail junction that linked the town to Krakow, Vienna and Katowice lent it a fresh relevance.
Even then, however, Oświęcim proved resilient. Bouncing back with the onset of the Industrial Revolution, the establishment of a rail junction that linked the town to Krakow, Vienna and Katowice lent it a fresh relevance.
Among the factories that thrived were the Jewish-run Haberfeld vodka distillery, the Atlantic and Ostryga canned fish plants, and an assembly line producing the Oświęcim Praga car, a luxury vehicle driven by the likes of the Polish rally champion, Jan Ripper, and the internationally renowned opera singer Jan Kiepura.
But if the rail line once bought affluence, it would later deliver death.
The development of a concentration camp at Oświęcim had not met with blanket approval. For many Nazi decision-makers, the swampy terrain and decaying state of the pre-existing military barracks made it an unlikely candidate for a concentration camp. In its favor, though, were its central geographical location and its excellent transport links—these would prove the clinching factor.
But if the rail line once bought affluence, it would later deliver death.
The development of a concentration camp at Oświęcim had not met with blanket approval. For many Nazi decision-makers, the swampy terrain and decaying state of the pre-existing military barracks made it an unlikely candidate for a concentration camp. In its favor, though, were its central geographical location and its excellent transport links—these would prove the clinching factor.
What followed has been well-documented, but while many visitors today expect to find a town locked in a permanent state of mourning, the opposite rings true—beyond the fences of Auschwitz and Birkenau sits a town that’s learned to reconcile the past with the present.
“After the fall of Communism, I think you did find that people were hesitant to invest in Oświęcim because of its association with Auschwitz,” says Kuncewicz, “but that’s definitely changed.”
“After the fall of Communism, I think you did find that people were hesitant to invest in Oświęcim because of its association with Auschwitz,” says Kuncewicz, “but that’s definitely changed.”
This is particularly evident by the riverside, where smart apartment blocks have sprung up on the banks of the River Sola, and modern pathways have been slashed into the embankments.
The biggest surprise, though, lies in the Old Town just beyond. Compact as it is, the historic center features a stoic 16th-century castle sat on a hill and a wealth of renovated tenements, handsome churches and charming little nooks.
The biggest surprise, though, lies in the Old Town just beyond. Compact as it is, the historic center features a stoic 16th-century castle sat on a hill and a wealth of renovated tenements, handsome churches and charming little nooks.
Squirreled among these sit historic landmarks such as the only synagogue to survive the war. Used by the Nazis as an ammunition depot, the subsequent Communist era saw it gather cobwebs as a dusty carpet warehouse.
Restored and reopened in 2000, today it offers a rich and atmospheric reminder of the past.
“Each visit breathes new life into its walls, underscoring the importance of maintaining this sacred site as a testament to Jewish heritage and resilience,” says the Auschwitz Jewish Foundation.
Restored and reopened in 2000, today it offers a rich and atmospheric reminder of the past.
“Each visit breathes new life into its walls, underscoring the importance of maintaining this sacred site as a testament to Jewish heritage and resilience,” says the Auschwitz Jewish Foundation.
Though the number of people that visit the town is growing, the annual figure remains far removed from the 1.8 million that visited the camp in 2024. In many ways, this acts to Oświęcim’s benefit—walking the quiet, cobbled streets, the slow pace of life is ripe for reflection.
But as sedentary as Oświęcim may at first feel, it is neither dormant nor neglected. Vitality can be found on the walls via a trail of murals—many of which spread messages of tolerance—and also via the town’s burgeoning cafe scene.
But as sedentary as Oświęcim may at first feel, it is neither dormant nor neglected. Vitality can be found on the walls via a trail of murals—many of which spread messages of tolerance—and also via the town’s burgeoning cafe scene.
Blazing a trail in this respect is Bergson, a cafe operated by the Auschwitz Jewish Center Foundation.
Located inside the former home of Szymon Kluger (who until his death in 2000 was known as ‘the last Jew in Oświęcim’), Bergson’s sense of unforced cool is amplified by its Scandinavian styling, hip sounds and artisanal sips and nibbles.
These pleasantries, though, disguise its deeper motive. “From the outset, we wanted Bergson to connect people, especially the locals, to the Jewish heritage of Oświęcim,” says Kuncewicz.
Located inside the former home of Szymon Kluger (who until his death in 2000 was known as ‘the last Jew in Oświęcim’), Bergson’s sense of unforced cool is amplified by its Scandinavian styling, hip sounds and artisanal sips and nibbles.
These pleasantries, though, disguise its deeper motive. “From the outset, we wanted Bergson to connect people, especially the locals, to the Jewish heritage of Oświęcim,” says Kuncewicz.
“We wanted to show that you don’t need to visit a museum or a synagogue to learn about the town’s Jewish past, and it was really important for us that the residents of Oświęcim realized this and felt welcome.”
Flying the banner for diversity, dialogue and inclusion, the cafe’s vision and vibrancy, not to mention its workshops and events, have succeeded in bridging gaps and reaching out to the town’s Polish population.
“We’ve preserved history by looking after the home of ‘the last Jew,’” says Kuncewicz, “but Bergson also looks to the future—more than anything, this is an optimistic, positive place.”
Flying the banner for diversity, dialogue and inclusion, the cafe’s vision and vibrancy, not to mention its workshops and events, have succeeded in bridging gaps and reaching out to the town’s Polish population.
“We’ve preserved history by looking after the home of ‘the last Jew,’” says Kuncewicz, “but Bergson also looks to the future—more than anything, this is an optimistic, positive place.”
Increasingly, so is Oświęcim. “It has had a very difficult history,” says Kuncewicz. “But it’s all about trying to learn from this history to draw something that gives hope for the future.”
For the Auschwitz Jewish Foundation, that hasn’t just meant engaging in activities such as the renovation of the Jewish cemetery but also exuberantly expanding their educational offer: “We want people to learn about what happened,” says Kuncewicz, “but it is similarly important that we look forward and help correct the mechanisms of hatred through our programs and courses.”
In many ways, it is this attitude that has helped the town peer through the dark shadows cast by the Holocaust—by trading ignorance for education and hate with tolerance, the town is emerging as a beacon for hope.
For the Auschwitz Jewish Foundation, that hasn’t just meant engaging in activities such as the renovation of the Jewish cemetery but also exuberantly expanding their educational offer: “We want people to learn about what happened,” says Kuncewicz, “but it is similarly important that we look forward and help correct the mechanisms of hatred through our programs and courses.”
In many ways, it is this attitude that has helped the town peer through the dark shadows cast by the Holocaust—by trading ignorance for education and hate with tolerance, the town is emerging as a beacon for hope.
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