UTHRT: A JOURNEY OF REFLECTIONS ON GENOCIDE AND EDUCATION

    On Sunday, March 11, 2011, I remember it was a cold day in Chicago. I attended the annual benefit, Everyone Has a Voice, at the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center, located at 9603 Woods Drive in Skokie, Illinois. The trip itself became an educational journey. I boarded the Red Line at Granville and rode north to Howard Station, the last stop before the Chicago–Evanston border. From there, I transferred to the Yellow Line toward Skokie.

         Skokie, located in Cook County about fifteen miles north of downtown Chicago, takes its name from a Potawatomi word meaning marsh. Once a small farming community founded by German and Luxembourg settlers, it later became home to a large Jewish population—many of them Holocaust survivors who settled there after World War II. By the mid-1960s, Skokie had one of the highest concentrations of Jewish residents in the United States.

         In the 1970s, Skokie became a national symbol in the debate over the First Amendment when a Neo-Nazi group, supported by the ACLU, sought permission to march there—despite the presence of many Holocaust survivors. The case, National Socialist Party of America v. Village of Skokie, reached the U.S. Supreme Court and remains a landmark in discussions of free speech and hate speech.

         Today, Skokie is home to the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center, which opened in 2009. Its guiding vision—Remember the Past; Transform the Future—calls on us to preserve memory, honor victims, and use history to fight prejudice and indifference.

         The museum grew out of the Holocaust Memorial Foundation of Illinois, founded in 1981 after residents united against the attempted Nazi march. The building, designed by architect Stanley Tigerman with exhibits by Yitzchak Mais, contrasts light and darkness through its black-and-white exterior. Every hallway and exhibit reminds visitors of the human capacity for both cruelty and courage.

         The fall of 2025 in Chicago has been unusually kind. The air still carries a touch of summer, making walking, running, biking, or simply being outdoors pleasant. Yet as one moves through the city—or scrolls through social media—it is impossible to escape the noise of our time: protests, posts, and reels streaming across X, Instagram, Facebook, Truth Social, podcasts, and TikTok. Under the banner of free speech, images of conflict and suffering appear constantly—sometimes real, sometimes manipulated—depending on perspective.

         One word echoes everywhere, from newsrooms to online debates: genocide. Across platforms, people argue over its meaning, often shaping definitions to fit loyalties. But in law, emotion and sentiment do not define truth; only facts, evidence, and legal standards do.

         This is why I chose to revisit the concept of genocide—not to take sides, but to learn, reflect, and share for educational purposes. I believe education never truly ends. Life itself becomes the classroom, and experience the teacher.

         The word genocide was introduced by Raphael Lemkin, a Polish-Jewish jurist, during World War II. He combined the Greek genos (“race” or “people”) with the Latin -cide (“to kill”) to describe the deliberate destruction of a group. Lemkin argued that genocide was not limited to mass murder; it also included cultural, social, and economic destruction aimed at erasing a people’s existence.

         His advocacy led to the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, adopted by the United Nations General Assembly on December 9, 1948. It entered into force in January 1951 and defines genocide as acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. These acts include killing members of the group, causing serious harm, imposing destructive living conditions, preventing births, or forcibly transferring children to another group.

         Legally, genocide requires specific intent—the conscious goal to destroy a protected group. Courts differ on how that intent is interpreted: some require proof of deliberate purpose, while others accept awareness that one’s actions would lead to destruction.

         Although the Convention does not apply retroactively to events before 1951, it established genocide as a crime under international law. Its principles later formed part of the statutes of international criminal tribunals and the International Criminal Court (ICC).

         A common misconception is that genocide always means large-scale killing. In truth, destruction can also take nonviolent forms—such as erasing language, religion, or culture; forced relocation; or the suppression of identity. Lemkin identified eight methods of genocide: political, social, cultural, economic, biological, physical, religious, and moral. These show that extermination can occur without a single bullet being fired.

         On Wednesday, October 29, 2025, it was a pleasant day. I took the Red Line at the Thorndale station around 1:30 p.m., exited at Grand Avenue, and walked a short distance, arriving at 2:20 p.m. at the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center. Mr. Cole kindly provided an overview of the museum’s exhibitions. At 2:45 p.m., I experienced a VR presentation, and at 3:35 p.m., I participated in a holographic program featuring survivors’ stories. Later, I explored exhibits displaying documentaries, artifacts, letters, and testimonies from genocide survivors.

         As Elie Wiesel said, “Whoever listens to a witness becomes a witness.”

         At 4:50 p.m., I left the museum. The visit reawakened memories of my academic studies in international law and human rights. I was reminded that every December 9, the world observes the International Day of Commemoration and Dignity of the Victims of the Crime of Genocide—a day to remember, to prevent repetition, and to reaffirm our shared humanity.

         If there is a way to stop history from repeating itself, it begins with education—by learning, teaching, and telling the truth. Our children should grow up knowing there is only one race: the human race. The truest faith is love. Though our beginnings and endings are the same, what truly matters is how we treat one another in between. Let it be remembered: no one should ever choose to kill, displace, or erase others because of race, religion, culture, nationality, or ethnicity.

         As for the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center, it is currently closed at its Skokie location (9603 Woods Drive) and has temporarily relocated to 360 N. State Street (at Kinzie) in downtown Chicago. If you are seeking a well of knowledge and understanding, I encourage you to visit and experience its enlightening exhibitions.

By Alpha Diallo

UTHRT: A JOURNEY TO THE MAMMOTH CAVE NATIONAL PARK

 UTHRT: A Journey to the Mammoth Cave National Park

The state of Kentucky is located in the south-central United States, bordered by the Ohio River to the north, the Mississippi River to the west, and seven states: Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, and Missouri. It is part of the Appalachian region, known as the Bluegrass State, and is popular for the Kentucky Derby.

The distance from Chicago to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky is about 390 miles and can take around six hours, depending on traffic, road construction, or whether you stop at one of the many rest areas along the highways.

On Monday, August 28, I left Chicago heading south on Interstate 65. Along the way, I passed through Indianapolis. In the midst of traffic, I noticed a motorcyclist in a black helmet carrying his firearm, exercising his Second Amendment right to bear arms. I continued on through Louisville, crossed the bridge over the Ohio River, and eventually arrived in a small town called Cave City. From there, I turned right and headed toward Mammoth Cave National Park.

Mammoth Cave National Park, located in south-central Kentucky, is the longest known cave system in the world. The park covers 52,007 acres (21,046 ha), primarily in Edmonson County. The Green River runs through the park, with its tributary, the Nolin River, feeding into it just inside the park.

Since 1972, the cave system has been formally known as the Mammoth–Flint Ridge Cave System. As of 2025, more than 426 miles (686 km) of passageways have been surveyed. The park was established on July 1, 1941, after years of contentious eminent domain proceedings whose effects still linger in the region. It became a World Heritage Site in 1981, an International Biosphere Reserve in 1990, and an International Dark Sky Park in 2021.

The park’s mission is to:

“Preserve, protect, interpret, and study the internationally recognized biological and geologic features and processes associated with the longest known cave system in the world, the park’s diverse forested karst landscape, the Green and Nolin rivers, and extensive evidence of human history; and to provide and promote public enjoyment, recreation, and understanding.”

I arrived late in the evening, set up my tent, ate a simple meal, and went to bed after a long day on the road. Nature began playing its symphony of unfamiliar sounds. The sky was clear, the stars shone brightly, and tall green trees surrounded me. Under that peaceful atmosphere, I slept without fear.

The next morning, I woke up around 9:30 a.m. I walked to the showers, where I paid $1.50 for a four-minute shower, with extra time costing additional coins. After breakfast, I headed to the Visitor Center.

At the Visitor Center, I explored a small museum that previewed what visitors could expect: the history of Mammoth Cave, maps of the cave system, hiking trails, and the park’s rich ecology. Documentaries, articles, and videos added depth to the experience. I bought two tour tickets—the Grand Avenue Tour and the Historic Tour. Later, I went on a short hike to the Green River before heading into Cave City to buy groceries for the rest of my stay.

My first tour, the Grand Avenue Tour, required a short bus ride from the Visitor Center to the cave entrance. It covered four miles underground with 1,521 stairs (plus an optional 96). The path was strenuous and lasted about four hours. The tour showcased the park’s geologic diversity: slot canyons, tubular passageways, towering canyons, and tunnels sparkling with gypsum. With its many steep climbs and descents, the tour offered both physical challenge and fascinating lessons in geology and history.

The next day, I took the Historic Tour, a two-hour, two-mile walk with 540 stairs, including 155 in Mammoth Dome. This tour explored tunnels humans have used for thousands of years. It included both vast chambers that gave Mammoth Cave its name and narrow passages deep inside the cave. It was ideal for those interested in both adventure and history.

My journey to Mammoth Cave was guided by my interest in the environment, preservation, and my desire to support U.S. national parks. Yet, I left with more than just knowledge of geology and ecology—I also gained insight into another face of what is often called “Red State” America.

On my first tour, our female guide honored the legacy of Stephen Bishop, a famous enslaved guide at Mammoth Cave. His detailed, hand-drawn maps of the cave system became vital references for generations. On my second day, our group’s guides reflected America’s diversity—one was going through gender transition, and another was of Asian descent—showing inclusion across gender, sexual orientation, and race.

After five days of camping, I packed up my tent, made sure the site was clean, and began my journey back to Chicago.

The journey of life continues. As one guide reminded us, there are 63 designated national parks in the United States, protected by Congress and the National Park Service. This does not include the 400-plus other NPS-managed sites—national monuments, seashores, and historic landmarks.

National parks across the country are waiting to be explored. I may not have the time or resources to see them all, but I will try. If you have the chance, I encourage you to visit them too. There is so much to learn about this country that cannot be discovered by simply sitting in front of a TV. I hope to meet some of you in one of these parks.

As you travel, if you encounter an area you believe deserves protection, speak up. While creating a national park requires an act of Congress, presidents can also designate federal land as national monuments, which may later become national parks. The National Park Service plays a vital role by studying these lands and making recommendations—ensuring future generations can enjoy the same treasures we do today.

Best regards,

Alpha 

UTHRT: HAPPY NEW YEAR 2025!

Dear Friends,

Happy New Year 2025!

         A year has passed, and another year is upon us. 2024 was a remarkable year for me. I learned a great deal, traveled extensively, and experienced personal growth.

         In the country where I have lived for years, there is a new President preparing to take office, while the outgoing President steps down without resistance or clinging to power. This transition makes me proud to be American and to live in a nation where democracy prevails. I am grateful to the founding fathers of this country, who, surrounded by monarchies, chose democracy—a system that allows the people to select their leaders. I also admire George Washington, who set a powerful example by relinquishing power willingly, cementing the principles of alternation in leadership, democracy, and the sovereignty of the people. As I see it, whether the people's choice is deemed good or bad, it is their choice, and that is what truly matters.

         This year, I learned an invaluable lesson about life: it’s not about remaining unscathed like a flawless crystal, but about embracing the cracks and using time and effort to mend them with golden powder. This philosophy resonates with the Japanese art of "Kintsugi," which translates to "golden joinery." Kintsugi involves repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with gold, emphasizing rather than concealing the cracks. It celebrates imperfections and the history of the object through its breaks and repairs. In light of this, I encourage you to embrace your authentic self—flaws and all—and celebrate your unique journey.

         This year, my travels took me to various cities across the country. I dedicated significant time to aimless strolls through these cities and their parks, immersing myself in both nature and human connections. Along the way, I captured the beauty of the world and shared it with my friends.

         In 2024, I continued my journey of seeking truth and beauty in the world and sharing it with others. This endeavor has been deeply fulfilling, particularly through my work under the Human Rights Tree (UTHRT). The UTHRT Organization, a non-profit initiative, remains active, and I urge you to consider visiting www.uthrt.org and making a donation to support our ongoing efforts.

         As a new year unfolds, countless voices around the world resonate, each deserving to be heard. I believe in the power of listening and invite you to subscribe to the Under the Human Rights Tree YouTube channel at www.youtube.com/@alpha-uthrt. I also plan to embark on new travels, observing and documenting my experiences, which you can follow on my blog at www.underthehumanrightstree.org.

         As 2024 fades into memory, I hope it brought you valuable lessons. As we step into 2025, it is like a blank page, waiting for your story. Whatever story you decide to write, I urge you to believe in yourself. Go for it, and you will succeed. Remember, success is not solely about the outcome but the journey itself.

         Once again, I extend my heartfelt wishes to you and your loved ones for a Happy New Year in 2025!

Best Regards,

Alpha