March 4, 2001 No. 9 (645)
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Viewpoint
Jedwabne
by Sławomir Majman
Poles have found out that their compatriots murdered Jews more than
half a century ago.
For over half a century, they did not acknowledge the simple but very
bitter truth. During the last war, the Poles suffered incredible
casualties, but there were moments when they too murdered innocent people,
only because they were Jews.
There has been an ongoing discussion for several months in Poland
surrounding the book by Polish-American historian Prof. Jan Tomasz Gross,
Neighbors. The book describes the murder of the Jewish inhabitants of
Jedwabne, a town in northeastern Poland, just after the Nazi army occupied
it. More than 1,000 Jews-children, women and men-were herded into a barn
and burned alive. Not by the Germans, but by their neighbors-Poles.
The scale of this murder arouses shock and defensive reactions, often
panicky and loud. What do you mean? The Poles, who were also destined for
annihilation? The Poles who died in the thousands every day at the time?
Those same Poles are meant to be jointly responsible in some way for
genocide? This is an unbearable thought, because even thinking about it
leaves a deep dent in the historical cliche widely accepted in Poland: The
Poles were always noble, tolerant and fought against the prevailing enemy
forces.
The border of defensive reactions should be decency, though. Mass-scale
murders of Jews by Poles in Jedwabne and other Polish towns do not change
the fact that the people behind the Holocaust were not the Poles, but the
Germans. The fact that these murders took place is something absolutely
new for the absolute majority of Poles. But even the force of the shock,
resulting from the discovery after many years that the Poles had their
share in murdering the Jews during the Nazi occupation, does not justify
the thesis repeated on the Polish side that the Jews had only themselves
to blame.
Gross's book leaves many questions unanswered. It's not sure exactly
how many victims there were, and the role of the Germans still needs
explaining-whether the murder was at their inspiration, mere assent, or,
as witnesses quoted by the author say, that the Germans held the zealous
Poles back.
Gross does offer one thesis that is hard to overthrow. Jedwabne was a
single incident in the bloody chaos of the time, while anti-Semitism in
Poland at the threshold of the occupation was widespread. The
generalization that can be drawn from the story of Jedwabne concerns not
the massive scale of the murders, but the mass-scale hostility of Poles
toward Jews.
The borderline of decency in the polemics surrounding the Jedwabne
affair has been overstepped by Prof. Tomasz Strzembosz of the Catholic
University of Lublin, who seems typical of the Polish rightists.
What did Strzembosz write? That nothing can justify the murder of
people only because they are a different nationality and religion, but
when the Soviets occupied eastern Poland in 1939, the Jews welcomed the
Red Army enthusiastically, took part en masse in enforcing the new order
and took the Poles' places in local offices. Jews, also in Jedwabne, were
members of the Soviet militia and helped deport Poles to Siberia. "This
was collaboration with arms in hand, taking the side of the enemy, treason
in days of defeat," writes Strzembosz. And it is that treason which the
Jews in Jedwabne paid for, burned alive in Śleżyński's barn, when the Red
Army was no longer there in 1941. There were Poles in Jedwabne who had
been freed from Soviet prisons by the German offensive, who had their
accounts to settle with the Jews. There were the families of those who had
been exiled to the east. In other words, the murder in Jedwabne was
revenge for the Jews' earlier anti-Polish actions.
Strzembosz's claim sounds in unison with many letters published by
Rzeczpospolita daily. It is rather terrifying that there are people who
took the discussion about Jedwabne as an opportunity to reveal the
stereotypes sleeping within them, about the allegedly murderous role of
the Jews under Soviet occupation. In revenge for accusing Poles of
anti-Semitism, accusations appeared that the Jews were the executors of
the extermination of Poles in eastern Poland-accusations treated by their
authors as proof of Polish courage in the face of today's omnipresent
pressure of political correctness.
Even worse, a high-ranking state official, head of the National
Remembrance Institute Board, Dr. Sławomir Radoń, also voices some strange
doubts: "I don't know to what degree the motive for the murders was
revenge for the Jewish population's collaboration with the Soviet
authorities."
The defensive reaction thus focuses on seeking the causes of the murder
in the behavior of the Jews during the Soviet occupation of Poland's
eastern lands.
The very generalization-the Jews' behavior-conceals a swindle. Some
Jews, mainly the poor and the communists, built triumphal gates welcoming
the units of Marshal Timoshenko, while others greeted the introduction of
the Soviet order with fear and hostility-what good could a Jewish merchant
or lawyer expect of the Soviets? Some Jews serving the Soviets
collaborated in deportations to Siberia, while others were deported
themselves-one-third of the Polish citizens deported and placed in
Stalinist camps were Polish Jews.
Defending the argument that Jews are communists and that explains why
they were murdered, is disquietingly close to anti-Semitic
stereotypes.
Strzembosz reveals the somber corners of his mind on this occasion.
Because, when some Jews enthusiastically welcomed the Red Army in the hope
that it would free them of the specter of anti-Semitism-that was bad. On
the other hand, when some Poles, including those from Jedwabne,
enthusiastically welcomed the next occupying force-the Nazi army-that was
good, because the Germans saved thousands of Poles from being exiled to
the steppes of Kazakhstan and the Siberian taiga.
I am far from thinking that the choices of Poles and Jews, squeezed as
they were between two totalitarianisms, were simple. It's hard to find
more complex knots than those into which history tied the fates of the
nations of Eastern Europe during World War II.
Those Poles in whom the Jedwabne case arouses a defensive instinct
pretend that Polish-Jewish relations began after the Soviet occupying
forces marched into Poland in September 1939.
But it is impossible to understand what happened between Poles and Jews
during the Holocaust without going back to inter-war Poland. Strzembosz
devotes little attention to what happened before: "True, Jews weren't too
well off in Poland."
The Poland that arose in 1918 was a country with a high percentage of
Jews in its population. Two different nations lived next to each other.
The history of that cohabitation has its bright moments, but is also
encumbered by wrongs and mistakes.
These wrongs and mistakes were described by Prof. Jan Błoński like
this: "We let the Jews into our home, but told them to live in the cellar.
When they wanted to come up to the rooms, we promised we would let them in
if they stopped being orthodox Jews, if they became `civilized.' There
were Jews who were prepared to listen to this advice. But then we started
talking about a Jewish invasion, about the danger we were in once they
permeated Polish society."
The presence of Jews gave birth to Polish anti-Semitic obsessions,
which reached psychosis levels, and in the late 1930s even total madness,
preventing any clear realization of the danger of war. Focusing on the
so-called Jewish issue was typical of public life in the 1920s and 1930s.
When you read what people wrote about Jews before the war in the
nationalist and Catholic press, when you discover how much hatred there
was in Polish society, you end up surprised that actions didn't follow the
words. But they didn't, or did so rarely by the standards of the somber
Eastern Europe of the 1930s.
Pedestrians beaten up in the street, windows smashed in synagogues,
attacks with sticks and razors on Jewish students at universities, a bench
ghetto sanctioned by university authorities, attempts at economic boycotts
and limiting Jews' access to medical and legal professions-these were the
most frequent forms of anti-Jewish action.
There were casualties and injuries in the anti-Jewish actions. In
1935-1937 alone, 14 Jews were killed, and about 2,000 were beaten up or
injured.
There was a despicable anti-Jewish campaign in the rightist press, a
war over Jewish shops, and poor Poles who believed it was the Jewish
cobblers and lemonade vendors on their street who were the cause of their
poverty. There were the tragedies of those who chose to be Poles, people
obsessed with Polishness, whom the rightists brutally refused the right to
belong to the Polish nation.
But there was also the Polish government which, despite pressure, did
not allow anti-Semitism to become a part of the state's policy. There was
a dense network of Jewish self-government, political, cultural and
economic institutions, and there were Poles, such as one of the most
outstanding politicians of the government camp of Marshal Józef Piłsudski,
Tadeusz Hołówko, who wrote: "We will never reconcile ourselves to and will
never stop protesting against contempt for Jews' human dignity. A Jew is a
citizen of the Republic. It is not his fault that 600 years ago Kazimierz
the Great allowed his ancestors to settle in Poland-he has the same rights
as any other citizen, because he also has the same obligations."
While there are many examples of Polish-Jewish cooperation and
friendship, it is true that the relations between Poles and Jews
immediately before the war were filled with animosity. And this
influenced-it had to influence-the behavior of both sides during the
war.
Those few years that Jews call the "Time of Annihilation" overshadowed
everything that had happened between Poles and Jews over the
centuries.
Between the desperate collective suicide of the Warsaw Ghetto fighters,
the noble sacrifices of thousands of Poles who saved Jews, and the
merry-go-round built for the Poles beneath the ghetto wall, there lies an
area of dead frozen ground-the frozen ground of indifference.
I don't doubt that in Poland the Germans had fewer helpers in killing
than anywhere else. But this isn't about bookkeeping, whether Warsaw had
20 percent fewer informers than Paris or Vilnius. The issue is Polish
indifference, indifference at the moment of the Holocaust. This caused
Jews to die alone.
How could the Polish Christian sensitivity swallow the experience of
the Annihilation so indifferently? How could it be that even in 1944 the
delegates of the government-in-exile in Warsaw warned their superiors in
London not to go too far with their love for Jews, because the Jews were
not liked in the homeland?
"We don't stop considering Jews to be political, economic and
ideological enemies of Poland." Why did Catholic writer Zofia Kossak, who
generously helped Jews at the time, fail to avoid the preceding
reservation in her legendary Protest, which was meant to make Poles
realize that what was happening to Jews on Polish soil was their Polish
cause?
Pogroms and the killing of Jews by the people of the occupied countries
was in no way unique to Poland.
The horrible murders perpetrated by Lithuanians in Kovno or Ukrainians
in Lvov probably surpass what happened in Jedwabne in terms of
cruelty.
We know about the role of collaborators in the annihilation of French
Jews, we know about anti-Jewish excesses in Belgium and the
Netherlands.
But until now, until the Jedwabne affair was made public, Poles'
conscience only had to deal with the sin of indifference in the face of
annihilation. Now the burden has become heavier yet.
Quite a few Jews survived the occupation thanks to the help of Poles.
The percentage of Poles helping Jews is estimated at 2.5 percent of the
whole nation. That's a lot, because under such terror, helping Jews
required heroism. One shouldn't demand heroism of people, but decency. The
concept of decency somehow encompasses neutrality, even indifference. But
now it turns out that there were Poles who were murderers under the
protective umbrella of the Nazis.
The origins of Jedwabne should be sought in prewar anti-Semitism, an
anti-Semitism that hasn't been overcome to this day, which is why how
Poles deal with the burden of Jedwabne will be a test of how they are
dealing with the heritage of anti-Semitism.
But blaming the victims is no way of dealing with your own
conscience.
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