The Sadism of Simon Wiesenthal-Honsik

The shaking SS-man, who crops up in several places in Wizenthal’s opus and is described in detail, tells us a great deal about the personality of the man who calls himself “Nazi hunter”, about the abyss of his psyche and about what actually happened in the concentration camps after the inmates and the American soldiery took over…

Fiend and Felon 

America’s Idol – a Crook!Power, Perjury and Murder
in Szymon Wizenthal’s Footsteps
By Gerd Honsik 


Chapter 28 Sadism

Why SS-men were brave at the front and manful in court, but trembled at being interviewed by Wizenthal and his minions.

Wizenthal tries his “hand”: strip search and interrogation!

Simon WiesenthalAnyone who reads Szymon Wizenthal’s books attentively, time and again comes across passages where the author lingers over the pain. horror and fear of his victims. Aside from the fact that we do not generally find such descriptions in serious criminological literature, Wizenthal lingers over the terror he spreads and the tears he causes a bit longer than would lie necessary to get his point across.

Let me give you an example. In the foreword to the book analyzed her,,. we read:

“It was on one of the first few days.. that the door opened and an SS man was brought in […] shaking, a bundle if fear. [..] ‘It was as if a hare wins expected to grasp that the huntsman was afraid of it… “` (JNV p. I 3.)

The shaking SS-man, who crops up in several places in Wizenthal’s opus and is described in detail, tells us a great deal about the personality of the man who calls himself “Nazi hunter”, about the abyss of his psyche. and about what actually happened in the concentration camps after the inmates and the American soldiery took over.

Probably even among those historians who give biased and one-sided and deliberately negative accounts of the Third Reich, there are none Mho doubt that the ranks of the SS were made up of particularly tough men who had undergone brutal training and who had usually volunteered for such units. It is also an undisputed fact that wherever the SS were posted to serve at the front (Waffen-SS) they displayed especial bravery, especial preparedness for self-sacrifice, and an utter disdain for their own death.

Beyond that, we know that even in post-1945 war crimes trials, member, of the SS – such as Robert Verbelen, Rajakovich, Dejaco and Ertl – responded even to threats of life imprisonment with an awesome self-control and fearless resolve which the Austrian and German public, aware of what was self-evident and common knowledge about the SS, had come to expect from members of this order. Even directly in the face of death, SS-men hone their heavy burden coolly, apparently unemotionally, and courageously right to the bitter end. In this context I remind the reader of Adolf Eichmann’, deportment in his glass cage in Jerusalem.

Now, when we hear from Wizenthal that SS-men in Mauthausen were shaking with fear when they were dragged in to the interrogation, this proves

that something must have been done to these men, or been in store for them, that exceeded by far anything that human beings could bear.

For a change Wizenthal is telling the truth. Even if the German and Austrian public and the left-wingers – particularly the left-wing intellectuals – know nothing of the horrible torture inflicted by Jewish-American interrogation specialists on the SS guards and the captured Waffen-SS soldiers, these bestial torture methods that are unequaled in the western world in post-Inquisition times are nonetheless documented in devastating detail in court files, investigation findings and witness testimony.

From the butchery of the Dachau guards by the American soldiery and the torturing-to-death of the surviving wounded by Wizenthal’s criminal concentration camp pals, to the martyrdom of the commandant of Auschwitz. H6ss, who was kept handcuffed for three weeks straight and who, lying on a butcher’s bench, was beaten and tortured by British Jews for three full weeks in the village Heide until he lost consciousness as well as his powers of speech, there stretches a gruesome way of the cross whose victims have yet to be counted, whose torturers have yet to be punished, and whose agonies have yet to be published. (cf Wigbert Grabert, Geschichlsbetrachtung als Wagnis, Tubingen: Grabert, 1984.)

Just as murderers are drawn back to the site of their crime, so Szymon Wizenthal’s thoughts and words circle like vultures around the trembling SSmen being led in to be interrogated.

He cannot describe how they look, he cannot explain what shape they were in, cannot tell us about their crushed testicles, their broken jaws, or the heat chambers for their confinement. And he also cannot reveal the practice of withholding “food stamps” for their wives and children or the violent excesses committed against their next-of-kin. To do so would be treasonous.

But to linger over the trembling bundle of humanity as which such a formerly proud and brave SS-man was dragged in to him – that is something he can’t do without. Yet in the heat of his apparently compulsive actions he forgets that by indicating that these men, so brave in battle and so valiant in court, might have had good cause to be deathly afraid of those interrogations, he runs the risk of pointing his readers in the direction of those crimes which his concentration camp buddies and the criminal soldiery of his liberators committed with impunity on German soil for weeks, months and years.

(See photos and text, pp. ff.)

Like semi-official historiography as a whole, Wizenthal too likes to claim that the SS scrupulously removed all traces and evidence of their atrocities. This theory would seem to be contradicted by one of the most

gruesome and most retarded stories Wizenthal has ever served his reading public. Again in the context of “trembling SS-men”, Wizenthal has his cheerleader Peter Michael Lingens write the following:

“When Simon Wiesenthal was searching one of those trembling SS man for papers he found a picture in his wallet: it showed a young man who had been strung up by his testicles.” (JNV p. 14.)

I doubt that there is any mammal on this planet, and certainly no homo sapiens, whose testicles would be able to support his body weight. But the Galician crook expects us to believe in this physiological miracle.

Of course Wizenthal will not be able to show you this photo. He will also not be able to cite the court file containing the photo, will not be able to give the name of the SS-man who allegedly carried the picture in his wallet. and not even the punishment to which the torturer was sentenced. Much less the name of the victim.

And thus he revels in gruesome tales and bloodthirsty fantasies, and he could not care less that there is a wealth of orders and witness testimonies that prove that the SS were strictly forbidden to lay a hand on prisoners.

It is probably unnecessary to add here that the SS were not permitted to carry cameras at work as though they were some sort of tourist, and that they could also not jaunt off to the dark room whenever they chose to.

There is also no evidence to indicate that the SS admitted mentally deranged people to their ranks. But that is exactly what the SS man here at issue would have to have been if he had carried the horrible evidence for his atrocity next to his heart (instead of a photo of his sweetheart) right until he was dragged, “trembling”, to the barracks to be “body searched” by the Hatemonger Himself. Even if this had been an inconceivably slow-wilted SS-man, the blasting of the “gas chambers”, the peaceful surrender of the concentration camp Mauthausen to the International Red Cross, and later the advance of the American troops, should have brought it home to the SS-idiot of Wizenthal’s lively imagination that it was gradually coming to be time either to part with the well-loved picture or to find a better hiding place for it than his wallet, which the criminal concentration camp inmates were no less interested in than the American soldiers. Fortunately such horror stories were not concocted and peddled after the war with the approval of Wizenthal’s superiors. Given the bad experiences the Allied propagandists had made with the hacked-off hands of Belgian children, and due to the fact that the people were only too well aware of the iron discipline of the SS, Wizenthal subsequently had to repress his fondness for tales of this sort. At that time Allies still preferred to portray the “mass murders” in the Third Reich as a

crime ordered from higher-up, and carried out assembly-line-style in blind obedience by highly disciplined men.

Years went by before Wizenthal was able to get his way for reasons of trial strategy and to have his witnesses allege individual personal crimes and excesses, because allegations of mere cooperation in an industrial-style murder machinery, without evidence for personal criminal tendencies, often failed to secure convictions. Only then was the way clear – not, perhaps, for lunatic horror stories such as the above, that make a mockery of the laws of nature, but certainly for the individual murders of children, committed publicly by high-ranking SS officers in violation, not of the laws of nature, but definitely of those of the Third Reich and of the reality of everyday life under the National Socialist regime.

Jew overcomes surgeon:

Plastic surgery that Wizenthal finds funny.

In chapter 17 of Justice Not Vengeance which Wizenthal titles “Plastic Surgery”, he again permits us a glimpse into the abyss of his criminal character. In the course of my analysis of his book I have come to the conclusion that in order to understand Wizenthal it is necessary to include some passages from his book in detail. I want to mention at the outset that the conversations Wizenthal repeats for us all seem to me to sound much like excerpts from the novels of Karl May, whose books Wizenthal has surely read and whose style no doubt adds a subconscious coloring to Wizenthal’s anecdotes. It would be an interesting project for a linguist to examine my theory more closely. In Wizenthal’s first-person narratives he always emerges as the superior party in these dialogues, and his opposite number must always assume the role of the silly little inferior – regardless whether he be a German Minister of Justice, an “SS man come down in the world”, or, as in this case, a Jewish surgeon. The parallels to “Kara Ben Nemsi” are striking. Anyone who spent his childhood devouring Karl May’s adventure novels, as I did (and evidently Wizenthal as well), will find that the following conversation takes him back to Kara Ben Nemsi Effendi’s conversation with a Turkish village mayor:

“`Please go ahead and tell me,’ I interrupted hisfood of words.

“`Yesterday a man arrived at our hospital from Argentina …. German – you know, a typical German with that particular haircut…’


“The man wants us to perform a cosmetic operation on his face. You ought to know that we specialize in cosmetic surgery.”

” `You are to make the German more beautiful?’

“`That’s what he asks me to do.’

” `So where’s the problem?’

” `I’m convinced that the man is a Nazi who wants to change his appearance in order to hide his identity. I consulted with an assistant at my hospital who’s a Jew like myself …. I struggled with the problem one whole night, and then reduced it to the question “Am I first of all a doctor, or am I first of all a Jew?”‘

” `And who won?’

” `I called you.’

“I assured the excited caller that he needn’t have the slightest anxiety about me. My informers were as safe with me as with their father confessor.

“The doctor thereupon gave me the full name of his patient …. At the mention of this locality I jumped… I tried to conceal my excitement and asked how long the patient was expected to remain in hospital.

`Eight or ten days.’

“`That’s not enough. I think we’ll need a little more time.’

” `Very well, then he’ll have to stay longer – and it’ll cost him a little more. “` (JNV p. 134-135.)

No doubt you, dear reader, have already realized who is the Effendi (=Master) and who is the good-natured but somewhat feeble-minded Turkish village mayor here.

Shortly thereafter, our Kara Ben Nemsi’s telephone rings again. And again the caller is a good-natured but rather silly person, just like the surgeon before her. But this time it’s a Native American Indian nurse. Phew!

The conversation that now follows between Old Shatterhand and the squaw goes like this:

“A female voice wanted to speak to Simon WiesenlhaL When I said that was me, the words just tumbled out of her: `I am a nurse, an American Indian. I’m working at a hospital here …. I have a Jewish friend who gave me your telephone number …. his name; it’s ‘Berger’, and he is a German… please don’t give me away …. If it came out that I’ve passed on information about patients it’d cost me my job.’

“I made my voice sound excited so the nurse shouldn’t suspect that her information was no news to me, expressed some outrage at the brazenness with which those bastards again ventured to show themselves in New York,

thanked her for her information and reassured her that no one would learn anything from me. ” (JNY p. I 3 5-136. )

If any of my readers should have felt that I had not already proved that Wizenthal is a barnstormer and quack, I think I have done so now. How the octogenarian “made his voice sound excited” so that the Indian nurse should not suspect anything – that’s Old Shatterhand, larger than life and hard as nails.

The fact that we now have three Jewish doctors at this New York hospital who “let the Jew overcome the surgeon” by denouncing a patient, whereby one of them has himself represented by an Indian whom he slipped the totem of Wizenthal’s telephone number which he evidently keeps constantly within reach in his knife belt, should really be enough to make us non-Jews shudder:

To hear how spitefully and cynically the Jewish surgeons, and Wizenthal himself as well, badmouth the “typical German” with “that particular haircut” without having any evidence for his guilt, to hear how they do not hesitate to prolong his stay in the hospital without any medical need, how they scornfully dismiss the resultant extra expenses, and how all three of them, independently of the others, are prepared to break their Hippocratic oath, must be enough to make any German fear that he might ever end up under the knife of such a Jewish surgeon himself.

And where Wizenthal is concerned, a criminal aspect of his character becomes clearly apparent: devoid of any natural sense of justice, he comments, in a frivolous tone and with undisguised satisfaction, that the Jew got the better of the surgeon – “come out on top”, as he puts it. And this is the case three times at one and the same hospital. Drunk with Jewish nationalism and personal arrogance, he does not even realize that the comment with which he glorifies the surgeon’s violation of his professional oath on the grounds of his more pressing religious claims only serves to give Jewry a dishonorable and contemptuous character reference.

To make matters brief: Berger, the patient, was not the man they sought. He was innocent – at least as much as Wizenthal can allow any German to be innocent.

When it comes right down to it, the comment that the Jew overcame the surgeon by violating the Hippocratic oath is an anti-Semitic remark, which Wizenthal is apparently unable to grasp. And now Wizenthal once again lingers over a description of details which, in my opinion, any normal person would seek to keep quiet – in his own interest. Try to recreate my analysis as

you read the following text, with which the ghastly comedy of plastic surgery concludes. Kara Ben Nemsi of Galicia speaks:

“A few months later I was in New York and phoned the surgeon, who was anxious to know how the story had ended. I told him that his patient was an entirely unimportant person, of whom we couldn’t even say whether he’d been a member of the Nazi party. His wish for facial surgery had apparently been prompted by the blonde young lady who’d visited him at the hospital. And since we had now broken professional medical secrecy so often, I requested him to show me a photo of his patient. He showed me two, one before and one after the operation. I was unable to see a great deal of difference. Evidently the `Jew’ within the surgeon had come out on top.” (JNV p. 13 8. )

And in this sneering tone of grisly humor, Wizenthal carries on in a book which it was allegedly his sacred duty to the victims to write, etc. etc.

A worse disgrace for the world’s Jews than this spiteful and imprudent confession by a patently sick man is hard to imagine.

While Wizenthal first used the expression of the “Jew overcoming the surgeon” only with reference to the fact that said surgeon notified him and provided the personal data on his patient, the context in which he repeats that disgusting phrase the second time (evidently he considers it witty) gives it an even worse meaning:

The fact that the patient was deliberately not operated properly and as requested, obviously because he was a German and was therefore deemed suspect – that is what Wizenthal considers to be “the Jew’s victory over the surgeon”.

When Wizenthal sneers spitefully that he “was unable to see a great deal of difference” in the patient’s appearance before vs. after the operation, this might well also be a diplomatically veiled hint that the patient had even been disfigured. But only an investigation of the case in court could determine that for certain.

And now, a question – to my readers, but also to the Austrian and German public and the American and Israeli people:

Don’t you also think that a man who can write the following must be psychologically abnormal?

“And since we had now broken professional medical secrecy so qften, I requested him to show me a photo of his patient.” (JNV p. 138. )

At the time after the operation when Wizenthal requested the photo of the patient, he already knew for certain that this man was not one of the “war criminals” he was looking for. Regarding the actual sharing of his patient’s photo, the surgeon himself can also no longer claim that he

thought doing so would help shed light on a crime (unless it was his own).

So what could possibly have prompted Szymon Wizenthal to ask to see the photo of an Argentinean citizen who had had a facial operation – a man with short hair, “German appearance”, and of German extraction?

It cannot be medical interest, since Wizenthal is an architect and has never professed an inclination to medicine. And that a grown man (with an appointment book as full as that of the man who solved 1,000 murder cases etc. must be) should spare the time to view a photo of no apparent professional interest, of a man who has had unsuccessful or – shall we say – deliberately bungled facial surgery, just makes no sense in any normal context.

To me it is certain that this is a case of a pathological sadist, whose hatred of all things German serves him as an excuse to satisfy his undiagnosed compulsion to revel and delight in the suffering of another human being.

The “blonde young lady” (obviously also suspected of being a German) who had prompted the patient’s wish for the “cosmetic surgery” – why is she described in this book allegedly devoted to the hunt for murderers, why does Wizenthal linger over this woman, and if he must do so, why can he not even find a word of comfort or regret for her who was also cheated by the Jewish surgeon?

On pages 224-225 Wizenthal writes:

“Anyone expecting that Jews could never commit a war crime, never persecute someone unjustly, or perhaps even never kill, merely shows that he still does not regard us as the equals of other nations – equals in good and in evil. Anyone siding with us only as long as we play the part of victim has, in a different way, remained the same old anti-Semite.” (JNV p. 224-225.)

To keep from being considered an anti-Semite I will gladly concede that he certainly can persecute people unjustly, that he may even have interrogated and killed them, and that he is definitely anyone’s equal in evil. But I’d rather not side with him anyway, even if he does then scold me as anti-Semite.

In his books Wizenthal virtually wallows in savoring grisly and unproven atrocities. To list all the physically impossible and juridically utterly unproven scenes of butchery which occur even in just the single book analyzed here would exceed the scope of this chapter by far. However, in the context of my theory of Szymon Wizenthal’s sadistic disposition it is vital

that the reader should review one more time the excerpt from JNV reproduced here on page , in which Wizenthal goes wild with physically impossible and forensically unprovable torture fantasies.

The space which Wizenthal devotes to the wives of his “war criminals”, whose loyalty he pokes fun at and whose pain he lingers over longer than any criminological purpose could warrant – these too are clear indicators that suggest to me that this man draws on the fear and on the pain he hopes to cause, to gain that which psychology subsumes under the term “pleasure”.

I believe that Szymon Wizenthal is a sick man. The world just doesn’t know it yet.

Read the full book here:


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