The Importance of Holocaust Education in Schools
The aim of Holocaust education should never be to introduce young people to the details of the horrors of the Holocaust, but to help them to understand how it could happen: what led up to it, and to recognise how conspiracy theories, fake news and disinformation lead to prejudice. And how prejudice leads to racism – and when racism is allowed to flourish, then there is no limit to what can happen.
I give talks mainly to students in Year 6 who are in the last class of primary school. They are good listeners and generally uninhibited about interacting and asking searching questions. Some talks inevitably have to be on Zoom because of unmanageable distances, but there is an advantage because several schools can participate and I have spoken to as many as 500 children in one session. With a bit of technical luck, I can see them and they can see me as well as PowerPoint illustrations.
I talk about my own experiences as a child and how my cousin and I became the targets of racism and learned how antisemitism, surely the oldest form of racism, felt as well as what it meant. Our stories had very different outcomes: I was lucky and survived. I came to England with my parents. We discuss what refugees may bring with them and what and who they must leave behind and how that may feel. I encourage them to listen to others’ stories and to tell their own – we all have stories to tell and they help us to welcome strangers, not to fear them.
My cousin was not lucky. He was one of six million who were not lucky.
The children and I explore together what 6,000,000 means. We stand and I tell them that the late Chief Rabbi of the UK, Lord Jonathan Sachs, once worked out that if we stood for just one minute to commemorate each of the 6,000,000 we would be standing in this place for 11 years and 4 months.
We talk about who can do such things? and I stress that there are no bad people but only people who do bad things. I give examples of kindness: a child who played with me when the other children and teachers in my school shunned me and called me names, a man in the Nazi party, who knew and saved my father when he was arrested, and a doctor who took me to hospital, where Jews were not allowed, when I nearly lost a finger.
Eli Wiesel, an author, who witnessed the worst terrors of the Holocaust as a child in the camps, once said that when we tell our stories, we share the responsibility of being a witness and when enough of us become witnesses we may never let it happen again.
BY HEDI ARGENT
Hedi and her parents came to England as refugees from Austria in 1939. Hedi spent most of her working life in Social Work specialising in the adoption of older children and children with disabilities. She has written and edited more than twenty books on the subject and is still working and speaking in schools about the Holocaust and what it means to be a refugee. Hedi has recently written her own story and has donated the royalties from her book sales to the Foundation. She is also an ambassador for the Foundation.
Hedi Argent • April 29, 2026
What does it mean to be a boy in today’s world? Is it to be watched, managed, expected to fail before you even begin, or is it to be shaped, trusted, and taught how to carry dignity without dropping it? That question followed me off the bus at the Dignity Defenders camp. The air was thick with uncertainty. Boys from different schools stood in long, uneven lines, gripping oversized bags under a sun that felt far too awake for how unsure we all were. One by one, police officers searched through our belongings at the gate. No introductions. No explanations. Just hands in bags, eyes scanning for what might go wrong. The message landed quietly but firmly: we were not trusted. At first, it stung. I looked around at the boys beside me, some nervous, some joking too loudly, some silent, and none of them looked like criminals or threats. They looked like boys carrying more than just clothes: expectations, pressure, unfinished childhoods. And yet, here we were, treated as potential problems before we were given the chance to be people. Still, honesty matters. An all-boys camp does sound like something that could collapse into chaos if left unchecked. In a world already strained by conflict and unrest, caution becomes a reflex. That gate, uncomfortable as it was, became the first lesson: when society loses trust, control rushes in to fill the gap. What followed, however, was not control, it was education in its most human form. We were separated from friends, gently but deliberately, nudged into unfamiliar conversations. We slept in shared dormitories; bunk beds stacked like unspoken agreements to coexist. Slowly, the tension softened. The space began to feel less like a holding area and more like a classroom without walls. One speaker, calm and sharply articulate, spoke about substance abuse. When he revealed that he was a former drug addict, the room shifted; not because of shock, but because of contrast. He did not look broken. He looked rebuilt. His story dismantled the idea that one mistake writes an entire future. It reminded us that education is not about erasing the past but understanding it well enough to move forward. Later, a boy raised his hand and admitted he used substances to cope with stress at home. There was a brief, fragile silence. Then someone asked, "Why?". That single question cracked something open. Suddenly, drugs were no longer the headline; pressure, pain, and survival were. Education, in that moment, did not judge. It listened. We learned how to defend dignity, physically, legally, and emotionally. We learned what to do when it is threatened, how to protect ourselves and others, and how to act instead of freeze. These were not academic lessons. They were tools for a world that does not always play fair. Near the end of the camp, chess appeared, almost casually, disguised as a fun competition. What began as a game slowly unfolded into a lesson. We were encouraged to play, to compete, to enjoy it, but also to think. Each move demanded patience. Every decision carried a consequence that could not be taken back. It was no longer just about winning, but about understanding that rushing the present often sabotages the future. When the competition ended, the strongest players were rewarded with mini chessboards. Receiving my first chessboard felt symbolic, a small object carrying a quiet reminder that life, like chess, rewards those who think beyond their next move. By the end of the camp, something had shifted. My idea of masculinity no longer revolved around strength or silence, but awareness. Education, I realised, is what teaches us how not to become what the world fears we already are. In times of unrest, education is not a luxury; it is a stabiliser; a compass. As Steve Sinnott called it, ‘the great liberator.’ And for a group of boys who were once searched at a gate, it became the reason we walked out trusted, not by authority, but by ourselves. BY JOENTY NGOMA CULTURAL HIGH SCHOOL SOUTH AFRICA (GRADE 11)
On a recent trip to Pakistan, I was struck by two contrasting images. In one, school children moved through the chaos of Rawalpindi’s streets, their journey interrupted by traffic, by cows being walked through the road, by the everyday disorder of the city. In another, young children carried heavy bags for street vendors who give them employment; their labour, part of the same urban rhythm but pointing to very different futures. Access to education, as is often referenced in this magazine, is not universal. I reference Pakistan not only because of these scenes, but because it is closely linked to my heritage and identity. Reflecting on what education means, and how I interact with it, has been central to my academic journey. Coming from a family where my parents were not formally educated, education has provided me with opportunities that were not previously available to them. This experience shaped my decision to work in widening participation in the Department of Politics and International Studies at the University of Warwick. One of the projects we developed was the Colonial Hangover Project, designed to explore the everyday legacies of colonialism. The project aimed not only to give school-aged students the confidence to speak back to a curriculum that often remains silent on their histories, but also to create opportunities for experiences they might otherwise not have access to because of their backgrounds. It was through the Colonial Hangover Project that we enabled students to speak at the Colonial Legacies conference held at Coventry Cathedral. Students from across Coventry spoke about their heritage, produced art, and sang gospel songs reflecting their experiences as young people whose families are linked to British history through empire. They spoke about local histories, including the grave of enslaved child Myrtilla, about South Asian heritage, and about the ways colonial hierarchies have shaped relationships between communities, including the persistence of anti-Blackness within some South Asian communities. Over 400 students came together during the day to celebrate their heritage and to speak within the cathedral. Building on this momentum, the work sparked a wider ambition: to ensure that all schools, particularly those in areas of high deprivation such as Coventry, could access sustained opportunities rather than one-off interventions. This led to a drive to connect schools to the UNESCO ASPnet Schools Network, widening access to global learning while embedding students within an international community committed to peace, cultural understanding, and social justice. For a city shaped by postindustrial decline and uneven educational outcomes, this connection mattered. It enabled students to see their local experiences as part of a wider global story. Alongside this, we drew on the Hidden Heroes campaign led by Preet Gill and Tom Tugendhat, encouraging students to identify and celebrate their own heroes within their families and communities. This created pathways for young people to speak in the UK Parliament, bringing together local heritage, global networks, and civic voice. Together, these strands reflected a shared commitment: widening participation not only in education, but in belonging and representation. BY SHAHNAZ AKHTER Associate Director is based in the Department of Politics and International Studies at the University of Warwick, where she works in widening participation and outreach. Her work focuses on creating meaningful pathways for school-aged students from underrepresented backgrounds to engage with higher education, civic life, and global learning.
Every last girl may want to go to school, but we know that a desire and an aspiration are not always enough. Deep in rural India, society doesn’t always support a girl’s education. Household chores, child marriage, restricted movement outside the house and patriarchy all stand in the way. The system also lets girls down -- secondary schools can be far away and re-enrolling after leaving education can be very difficult. Educate Girls UK was founded in 2016 with a mission to work with local organisations in some of the world’s most vulnerable communities, to find and support girls back into education. We identified Educate Girls (FEGG), an ambitious Indian NGO in Rajasthan and decided to start by backing their vision of every girl in school. Since commencing work in 2007, FEGG has supported over 2 million girls to enrol into government schools and improve their learning by creating a movement of over 23,000 gender champions who have reached the girls the system might have left behind. The Indian government too has introduced enabling policies (Right to Education Act was passed in 2009) and made huge progress in improving delivery and systems. India has near universal enrolment in the primary years with many more girls in school than before the Right to Education Act came into being. Our funding and advocacy support here in the UK and Europe has made a difference. But there still remains a persistent problem in the most marginalised villages in India, and beyond. Millions of women and adolescent girls forced to drop out of school have never returned. Without having passed even Grade 10 (similar to GCSEs in the UK), their life chances are now severely hampered. Further education is a distant dream; skilling programmes inaccessible; even loans to start a small business are all out of reach. As the world aspires to improve the quality of education we cheer on from the side lines. At Educate Girls UK, we want to be supporting the enrolment of girls into systems that deliver the very best foundational literacy and numeracy and equip young people for the 21st century with all its challenges. But, an additional priority for us, right now, is to give the support that girls who have fallen out of the system need, to pass their 10th and 12th grades. We want to see girls given a second chance at securing this aspiration and indeed this basic human right. In the next ten years we will work to support partners like Educate Girls (FEGG) in India who have set themselves a goal to ensure 10 million learners get that second chance. Even if they are already married and have children, cannot access physical schools, live in the most remote villages, or have demands on their time so they can’t attend school full-time, we will ensure that girls get to study, are supported to access learning and complete their secondary education. India is incredibly well placed to demonstrate solutions to some of the world’s most intractable problems given its size and ability to innovate at scale, indeed it has the largest public education system in the world. In supporting Educate Girls (FEGG) in India to scale their work in partnership with the government, we are convinced that we can learn and then share what works for girls and, in turn as a grant maker and advocate in the UK, work for girls everywhere. At decision making tables across the world we want to ensure the importance and potential of educating girls is seen and heard. This is a problem we only have to solve once as an educated girl will likely become a mother who will educate her children. Educate Girls in India is demonstrating solutions that work at scale which could have resonance beyond India’s borders – there are nearly half a million girls who are not in employment or education even here in the UK. Our work at Educate Girls UK is to change the life of girls so they can go on to change the world for girls everywhere. Educate Girls (FEGG), was recently recognized as the first organisation in India to receive the prestigious Ramon Magsaysay Award (often hailed as Asia’s Nobel Peace Prize) and the remarkable story of the organisation’s evolution is told in Safeena’s new book Every Last Girl: A Journey to Educate India’s Forgotten Daughters. BY SAFEENA HUSAIN A social impact leader, Safeena Husain is the Founder of Educate Girls, an Indian non-profit that partners with communities to mobilise volunteers and government resources for girls’ education in some of India’s most underserved and remote regions. In 2023, she became the first Indian woman to be honoured with the WISE Prize for Education for her transformative work in advancing gender equity through education. In 2024, she was awarded an honorary doctorate by the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE). In 2025, she led Educate Girls to a historic milestone, becoming the first Indian non-profit to receive the Ramon Magsaysay Award, widely regarded as Asia’s equivalent of the Nobel Prize, thereby cementing her place as one of the world’s most impactful social entrepreneurs. Under Safeena’s leadership, Educate Girls has pioneered innovative models that harness the power of community volunteering, most notably through its Team Balika network of over 23,000 community champions who have helped enrol over 2 million out-of-school girls and improve learning outcomes for more than 2.4 million children since its inception. She also spearheaded the world’s first Development Impact Bond in education and led the organisation to become Asia’s first TED Audacious Project. Drawing on her lived experience, Safeena brings a deep understanding of the challenges faced by marginalised communities. Her vision for the next decade is to empower 10 million learners through scalable, community-driven solutions grounded in volunteerism, participation, and equity. “I have never met a girl who said to me I want to stay at home. I want to graze the cattle. I want to look after my siblings. I want to be a child bride. Every single girl I meet wants to go to school.” Safeena Husain, Founder, Educate Girls
