Fifty-four years ago to the day, a young Jewish boy from a small town in the Carpathian Mountains woke up, not far from Goethe's beloved Weimar, in a place of eternal infamy called Buchenwald. He was finally free, but there was no joy in his heart. He thought there never would be again. Liberated a day earlier by American soldiers, he remembers their rage at what they saw. And even if he lives to be a very old man, he will always be grateful to them for that rage, and also for their compassion. Though he did not understand their language, their eyes told him what he needed to know—that they, too, would remember, and bear witness. (2-7)

"The Perils of Indifference" is a narrative of the 20th century from the point of view of a man who survived one of the most horrifying parts of it. Elie Wiesel uses the opening lines of his speech to contextualize his experiences in all the genocide and war and tragedy that characterized the 1900s, and to emphasize the importance of remembering it all.

The last line of this opening is perhaps the most vital. Wiesel remembers how important it was for him to realize that the American soldiers liberating Buchenwald would remember what they had seen. The act of remembering can be juxtaposed with the idea of indifference—where indifference is easy but ultimately damning for both the person being indifferent and those to whom s/he is indifferent, remembering is difficult but ultimately healing for all involved.