This past Monday, a man unknown to many of you died. Up until a little over a month ago, he was unknown to me too, and probably would have stayed that way had I not picked the House Committee on Foreign Affairs as the place I wanted to intern this semester. But I did pick the HCFA, and as a result the name Tom Lantos became quite familiar to me over the course of the past five weeks.
Congressman Lantos died after a relatively short battle with esophageal cancer. I never met him during the days I was at the Capitol Building. Not that I expected to bump into him all the time anyway, because I am just a lowly intern, after all, a title which is lower than dirt in the Hill's complex pecking order.
But when I heard on Monday morning that he had passed away, I was first shocked (I didn't know that his health had deteriorated so rapidly) and then began to feel a kind of dull sadness -- not so strong that I couldn't go about my day, but strong enough to be noticeable.
My sadness, I think, came from the new realization that I would never have the opportunity to shake his hand, answer the requisite questions of where I'm from, what I'm majoring in, and how I'm liking my internship.
I was sad not for having known him, but for having not known him, if that makes sense.
When I got to work the next morning (I'm there Tuesdays and Thursdays), the office was understandably a little subdued.
My inbox was flooded with e-mails -- press clips from papers and news websites all over the country praising Lantos' achievements as a congressman.
As I opened them, the dull sadness became a little more pronounced. I had missed out on knowing someone really great.
When I say "really great," I don't mean it lightly or superficially, I mean it literally.
Tom Lantos was Hungarian by birth. He was a young teenager when World War II broke out, and because he was Jewish, life for him, subsequently, became very difficult. He was sent to a forced labor camp north of Budapest, escaped, was sent back, and escaped again. The second time, he found a safe haven in a flat owned by Raoul Wallenberg. Lantos was designated the messenger and supply shopper because he had light hair and blue eyes, so he didn't look conspicuous out on the street.
While Lantos survived, most of his family did not, including both his parents and much of his extended family. However, he did find a childhood friend named Annette Tillemann, who had managed to escape to Switzerland.
They got married in 1950 after moving here. Lantos had won a scholarship to study economics in Washington state. After 30 years of teaching economics, and working as a consultant, he was elected to Congress as a Democrat from California's twelfth district in 1980.
In 1998, his Holocaust experiences were detailed in the Steven Spielberg documentary The Last Days.
In the House, Lantos steadily worked his way up in seniority, receiving the chairmanship of the Committee on Foreign Affairs just last year after his party retook control of Congress.
It doesn't seem right that he couldn't enjoy the chairmanship he had worked so hard for, for longer.
Congressman Lantos was the only Holocaust survivor in Congress, and with his death, I think our legislative body loses not just a strong public servant, but also something more.
The fact that he was there stood as an example of perseverance, the limitless opportunities America offers. Perhaps even more importantly, Lantos' unimaginably difficult experiences during the Holocaust served as a reminder that the United States cannot turn a blind eye to problems abroad -- a sentiment he echoed many times during his 14 terms in the House of Representatives.
Although a solid liberal Democrat on most issues, Lantos often took a pro-military intervention stance in foreign policy because of his experiences during World War II. He voted for the Congressional resolution authorizing the invasion of Iraq in 2002 after drumming up a lot of Democratic support, which was not an easy feat.
Lantos justified his vote in saying that "Had the United States and its Allies confronted Hitler earlier, had we acted sooner to stymie his evil designs, the 51 million lives needlessly lost during that war could have been saved.
Just as leaders and diplomats who appeased Hitler at Munich in 1938 stand humiliated before history, so will we if we appease Saddam Hussein today."
What a statement.
While another member of Congress could have said the same thing, I highly doubt if it would have carried as much weight. Stated by another congressman or senator, people wouldn't have straightened up in their chairs and listened.
Lantos' experiences commanded a rapt audience, and more importantly, respect. Too many of our elected officials these days don't succeed in that department. But in my book, Congressman Lantos passed with flying colors.
Most of us haven't heard of Tom Lantos. I chose to write about him this week because I wanted you to know something about what he accomplished in Congress and experienced throughout his very intriguing life.
While I didn't agree with all of his positions on social issues, I still respected him and will always wish I'd been able to meet him in person.
He deserves to be remembered by our generation for his struggles and for his successes -- just like our grandparents who experienced comparable struggles and successes.
As we come of age, remembering someone like Congressman Lantos can help us become a little stronger, a little more aware of the good that exists in humanity.
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