Denial [Movie Tie-in] Page 12

  The courtroom was so quiet that when James shuffled some papers, it sounded like an earthquake.

  The defendants, Rampton declared, had exposed Irving’s fraud and deliberate manipulations. For that they should “be applauded for having performed a significant public service not just in this country, but in all those places in the world where antisemitism is waiting to be fed.”11 With that he ended. He had spoken for about forty minutes.

  In the hall outside the courtroom, reporters surrounded Irving, who was happily expounding on his great day in court. Soon a group was also pummeling me with questions. “How did the first day go?” “Will you be giving testimony?” “What did you think of Irving’s boast that he is going to win this case handily?” I felt uncharacteristically bewildered, not by their questions, but by the fact that I was not supposed to answer them. Earlier that day, as we left for court, Anthony and James reminded me that we must not appear to be litigating this case in the press. Anthony had stressed how much judges dislike it when participants in a legal action predict what they will ultimately decide. “Above all, they cannot abide defendants who don’t talk in court, but talk to the press out of court.”

  As I contemplated his admonition, a tall woman with long hair, a friendly smile, and a low-tech tape recorder emerged from the crowd. The minute she spoke, I recognized the distinctive timbre and almost melodic quality of her voice. Julie McCarthy, National Public Radio’s London correspondent, implored me for a statement for Morning Edition and All Things Considered, two of my favorite news shows. Standing near her were the New York Times’s Sarah Lyall and the London bureau chief of the Los Angeles Times, Marjorie Miller. They too had questions. What were the broader implications of this case? How did I feel about Irving? Truth be told, while they had many questions, they wanted me to say something—anything—so that, as Julie McCarthy put it, “your voice can be heard.” They had spoken to Irving—some of them at length. From their perspective even a few words from me would give their stories some balance. I was dying to talk to them. I wanted to frame my own case. I wanted them to know I was not afraid. At the very least, I wanted my family and friends back home to hear my voice.

  When James emerged from the courtroom, he quickly assessed the situation, and made a beeline to where I was standing. I asked him, “Can’t I give them something, maybe something inconsequential?” James, unmoved by my entreaties, replied, “Nothing you say today will be inconsequential.” I looked over at Irving enthusiastically engaging the press. Keeping my silence was becoming infuriating. Then, someone grabbed my arm and I jumped at the unexpected contact. A small elderly woman had resolutely pushed her way through the crush. She had a heavily wrinkled face and very sad eyes. Dressed quite sensibly for a January day in London, she was wearing a plain, light blue wool sweater, dark wool skirt, and sturdy shoes. Her knitted hat was pulled tight over her gray hair. Ignoring the reporters, she thrust her arm in front of me, rolled her sleeve up to her elbow, and emphatically pointed at the number tattooed on her forearm. “You are fighting for us. You are our witness.” I heard both encouragement and admonishment in this woman’s words. It was as if she was saying: Be strong and of good courage but, whatever you do, do not fail us.

  Suddenly, what the media thought about the trial seemed inconsequential at best. I left the building, emerging into an appropriately dark, cold afternoon.

  six

  IRVING IN THE BOX: NOT A DENIER BUT A VICTIM

  “Saw you on television last night!” It took me a moment to realize that the man in the hotel lobby was talking to me. As I climbed into the cab, a woman cried out, “I’m rooting for you.” It seemed that, with pictures of me entering the Royal Courts of Justice on the front pages of London newspapers, my anonymity was gone. The taxi driver offered me a warm “Good luck to you, madam” with my change. Perusing the London Times over a cup of bad coffee in the Law Courts snack bar, I felt strange reading a description of myself.

  In front of him [David Irving] sat one of the principal defendants. Professor Lipstadt, whose 1994 book casts severe doubts on Mr Irving’s interpretation of the Holocaust, is a well-presented, 54-year-old American with ginger hair, half-moon spectacles and gold earrings, an orange silk scarf swathing her black outfit. She followed Mr Irving’s address on a laptop computer, occasionally glancing round at him with what looked suspiciously like wide-eyed incredulity.

  Thinking back on some of my feelings that day, I was glad that it was only incredulity that the reporter saw. I was intrigued by the impression Irving had made on a number of reporters. The Times described the pin-striped Irving as looking more like an “international art dealer” than a man we claimed was a Holocaust denier and an antisemite. The New York Times commented on Irving’s “articulate, plausible demeanor.”1

  Entering the courtroom, I stopped to greet Ursula, David, and Grace. Ursula exuberantly introduced me to a man in the queue: “Meet Professor Sussman, a professor of microbiology from Newcastle.” In a slightly conspiratorial tone she whispered, “I saw him waiting and suspected he was on ‘our’ side.” Sussman, a nattily dressed, formal man in his sixties, explained that he was in London on business and impulsively decided to attend. He wished me “Great good luck.” I thanked him rather perfunctorily, marveling at Ursula’s ability to collect people.

  CONSPIRING AGAINST DAVID IRVING

  As soon as the judge entered and we completed our ritual of rising, bowing, and sitting, Irving announced his intention to screen a videotape of a 1994 interview I had given to Australian television when I was there on a book tour. He explained that it “provides the Second Defendant, Professor Lipstadt, with a chance to express her opinions unopposed.” He then paused, apparently expecting Judge Gray to respond. Judge Gray simply said, “Yes.” Irving continued, “I feel it is appropriate to allow her some minutes of the court’s time in this rather oblique manner to express her opinions. . . . I understand that she will not be testifying in person in this case.” Irving paused again. He seemed to be waiting for Judge Gray to comment about my not testifying. Judge Gray said nothing. Finally, Irving started the video. The interviewer asked me my opinion of Irving, who was then trying to obtain an Australian visa. I cringed when I heard myself say, somewhat glibly, that no “historian takes him seriously.” Had I then been thinking forensically, as I had learned to do, I would have probably said, “No historian takes his claims about the Holocaust seriously and I would be inclined to check his evidence on other matters.”

  Irving asked Judge Gray, “My Lord, I do not know if you consider that was a useful exercise. I would welcome your Lordship’s guidance.” Irving could not have been pleased when Judge Gray told him it was “not very” useful because it did not address the “specific criticisms of your historical approach.” Irving challenged Judge Gray’s assessment of the screening. “We are also concerned with the Second Defendant here. My Lord, I understand she will not . . . speak and I will not be having a chance to cross-examine her. I think it was a useful exercise because it gave us a chance to see her in action. I think she could have handled herself under cross-examination had she proposed to do so.” The judge responded, “I have that point and I have now had the opportunity of seeing her on the interview.”2 Though Judge Gray spoke in a flat expressionless voice, I worried we had made a tactical mistake, allowing Irving to portray me as not only scared of facing him but having something to hide. I also knew that the British could not abide cowards. I passed Rampton a note: “Does my not testifying give him some moral or legal advantage with Judge Gray? Remember, I’m ready to testify.” Rampton motioned with his hand that I should not worry. But I was worried and—even more so—I was frustrated.

  One of Irving’s video clips had included the ruins of the Birkenau gas chamber. Irving promised that important revelations were coming. “I do not want to reveal precisely the arguments we will lead on this occasion. We will give the Defence great time to prepare counter arguments and we have spent a great deal of time and money with
architectural consultants and so on providing this evidence. I would prefer to leave that evidence—”

  Irving’s hint of great surprises yet to come brought Rampton hurtling to his feet. He interrupted Irving mid-sentence: “The days are long gone where a Claimant . . . is entitled to keep his rabbits in his back pocket and pull them out when it suits him so as to deprive the other side of due notice. If he is sitting on . . . expert evidence then we must have them.”3 British court procedures did not allow for Perry Mason–type surprises. Neither side could sandbag the other. “I think that is right,” Judge Gray replied. I asked James why Judge Gray was so tentative. James explained, “That’s British judicial parlance for ‘Irving’s wrong.’” Nonetheless, this hint of new evidence concerned me. Would the trial become the launching pad for another phony scientific study—a Leuchter Report redux.

  Irving told the judge that he would begin presenting his case with the issue of his “reputation” as a historian and push the historical issues “away for a while.” “How long is the while?” Judge Gray inquired. Irving responded, “As long as is necessary for me to deal with the reputation aspects of the case.” Judge Gray noted that he did not think that should take very long, since he had read much material about Irving’s reputation in pretrial submissions. Irving responded, “My Lord, you have read it but the Press have not.”4 The courtroom erupted in laughter. Judge Gray, who did not laugh, observed that this exercise was not for the press. He did not want to hear about noncontentious matters, but wanted to focus on issues that were central to the case.

  Judge Gray suggested that now was the time for Irving to enter the witness box so he could give his testimony. As Irving strode forward, climbed the three steps to the box, and was sworn in, I reflected on the fact that Irving often insisted that, among historians of the Third Reich, he alone adhered to a high standard of historical accuracy. In 1986, he told an Australian audience that his readers could trust him better than any other World War II historian. “I’ve got all the documents and the evidence on my side, but they can’t even find one page of evidence to attack me, and that is why they’re beginning to rant and rave instead.”5 In Canada and South Africa he told his audience: “I don’t just tell them my opinions: I back them up with all my evidence and the data that we have in British archives. . . . In a few months time, no one is going to believe these legends any more. The legends are collapsing with disastrous consequences for certain countries in the Middle East.”6 In Hitler’s War, he wrote that other historians were “incorrigible” and “lazy,” failing to “burrow deep” into the documents to find the “real truth.”7 Now, as a result of the case he had initiated, we intended to prove otherwise.

  Irving began by vigorously denying our charge that he had extreme right-wing views. After insisting that he had never belonged to a political party, left or right, he slipped, without warning, into a soliloquy on the current situation in England.

  I cannot say that I have applauded the uncontrolled tide of commonwealth immigration into this country. Like most fellow countrymen of my background and vintage, I regret the passing of the Old England. I sometimes think, my Lord, that if the soldiers and sailors who stormed the beaches of Normandy in 1944 could see what England would be like at the end of this century, they would not have got 50 yards up the beach. I think they would have given up in disgust.

  The courtroom was very quiet.

  Irving described how, over the years, he had received “favourable reviews, the kind of reviews that made publishers line up to publish my books.” Then came a turning of the tide. Bookstores refused to sell his books. Publishers reacted in “grief and terror” when he sent them manuscripts. My book, Irving charged, was responsible for this.8

  THE ST. MARTIN’S IMBROGLIO

  My assault on his career, he charged, took on its most ominous character in 1996. St. Martin’s Press, a prominent American publisher, was scheduled to publish his biography of Goebbels. When the news of this found its way into the press, there was an avalanche of criticism about St. Martin’s. The publisher defended its decision by arguing that the “loyalties, politics, or personal lives” of their authors were irrelevant. They were only concerned about the historical merits of an author’s work. New York Times columnist Frank Rich, distressed by St. Martin’s stance, interviewed me for an article he was writing on this subject. I insisted that, contrary to St. Martin’s claims, an author’s reputation counts, particularly if it directly relates to the book’s topic. I wondered whether St. Martin’s would publish a book on child rearing by Jeffrey Dahmer, the serial killer of young boys. The Washington Post, aware of my work on Holocaust deniers, also called and I reiterated my opposition. While my criticism of Irving in these two interviews (these were my only comments on the St. Martin’s affair) was strong, others were also critical. The publishing trade journal Kirkus Reviews called his book “scurrilously misleading.” Publishers Weekly described St. Martin’s plan to publish it as “repellent.” Library Journal had also condemned the book and the publisher.9 Best-selling mystery writer Jonathan Kellerman and Nobel Prize winner Elie Wiesel announced that they would not publish with St. Martin’s or give any books published by the house endorsements for a book jacket. Finally about one hundred St. Martin’s employees held an unprecedented open forum with the chairman of the publishing house, Thomas J. McCormack. They issued an “impassioned plea” that the contract be canceled. McCormack, stung by this groundswell, checked Irving’s current pronouncements on the Internet and was left with a feeling of “alarm and humiliation.” He then read the book and described it as an inescapably antisemitic book whose subtext was “the Jews brought this onto themselves.” At that point he decided to cancel the contract.10

  Irving told Judge Gray that St. Martin’s informed him that the publishing house had come “under attack from all quarters,” including “the Second Defendant.” He claimed that St. Martin’s had “widely quoted” me in justification of its decision. Frustrated that Irving was successfully feeding Judge Gray a stream of misinformation, I scribbled a note to Rampton. “I did not orchestrate a protest. I spoke to two reporters. And if St. Martin’s quoted me, I would know about it.” Rampton read my note and nodded. I waited for him to protest. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, pulled his wig over his eyes, and seemed to fall into a deep reverie. Distressed, I asked James why Rampton wasn’t protesting? James was calm. “Patience. Our turn will come.” Judge Gray asked Irving if St. Martin’s actually told him that I was responsible for the cancellation. “No, my Lord, media accounts have linked Professor Lipstadt with this particular event.” Judge Gray leaned forward as he demanded more precision. “Media accounts, rather than the American publishers?”11 Irving somewhat reluctantly acknowledged that it was media accounts. At that point, James whispered, “Our turn just came.”

  DEFINING THE HOLOCAUST

  When Judge Gray asked Irving to define the Holocaust, Irving protested that he was “quite unhappy” about the word. It was “very elastic” and served too many purposes: “They set it as wide as they want when it is a concern, for example, of taking money from the Swiss banks. . . . and they set it very narrowly when they then try to snare a writer who is dangerous to them, as they put it.”12 Though Irving never explicitly identified who was moving the linguistic goalpost, there was little doubt that the “they” was the Jewish community.

  Judge Gray, still trying to get Irving to define the event, asked if he believed there had been a systematic program to exterminate the Jews. Irving stated, “No, I do not.” People had been mass-murdered on the Eastern Front, but, he insisted, these killings were not systematic since they “originated” at a “lower level” in the Third Reich hierarchy. They were not the result of an “Adolf Hitler decision.” Moving from the mass shootings to the gas chambers, Judge Gray asked, “Do you accept or deny totally that there was any systematic gassing of Jews in gas chambers, whether at Auschwitz or elsewhere?”13 Since Irving had previously described the gas chambers as
“Hollywood legends,” and had proclaimed that he had never seen any “evidence at all that gas chambers existed,” I expected him to deny that there had been any systematic gassings.14 I was surprised, therefore, when he acknowledged that “there was some kind of gassing at gas chambers in Birkenau.” As Irving said this, Heather proclaimed sotto voce, “We have a concession.” She had hardly completed her statement when Irving qualified his so-called “concession.” The killings were not “systematized” because that “implies that it was conducted on authority from above.” There was, he insisted, a “chain of documents” indicating that “Hitler was a negative force in this matter,” i.e. he tried to prevent the killings. One of those documents was, Irving contended, Himmler’s diary entry of November 30, 1941, the one Rampton had mentioned in his opening. “Liquidation was in the air” and here was “Hitler intervening in a negative way” in order to save this trainload of Jews.15

  Irving vigorously rejected our charge that he behaved in a “disreputable way as a historian.” He denied ever “knowingly or willfully misrepresent[ing] a document or misquot[ing] it, or suppress[ing] parts of the document which would run counter to my case.” He said he would be “very surprised indeed” if the defense could prove this “on even one document.” He rejected our contention that he had greatly exaggerated the Dresden death toll and insisted that his estimates of the victims of Allied bombing raids came from reliable sources. He dismissed any mistakes he might have made about the Dresden toll, because there was “not much difference between 135,000 dead and 35,000 dead. Both of them are a monstrous tragedy or crime. . . . If you are one of those dead it hurts just as much.” Moreover, any mistakes he might have made in the death toll were not a matter of “willful misrepresentation, or distortion.” Judge Gray, assuming Irving had completed his answer, began to ask his next question. Rather than answer, Irving looked up in surprise and explained his silence to Judge Gray: “I was just pausing for dramatic effect.”16 There was a slight twitter of laughter in the room.