Reconstructing Memory: Geschichte Erinnerung Politik
Reconstructing Memory: Geschichte Erinnerung Politik
The book aims to reconstruct and analyze the disputes over the Polish-
Jewish past and memory in public debates in Poland between 1985 and 2012, Piotr Forecki
from the discussions about Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah, Jan Błoński’s essay The
Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto, Jan Tomasz Gross’ books Neighbours, Fear and
Golden Harvest, to the controversies surrounding the premiere of Władysław
Pasikowski’s The Aftermath. The analysis includes the course and dynamics
of the debates and, most importantly, the panorama of opinions revealed
Reconstructing Memory
in the process. It embraces the debates held across the entire spectrum The Holocaust in Polish Public Debates
of the national press. The selection of press was not limited by the level of
circulation or a subjective opinion of their value. The main intention was to
reconstruct the widest possible variety of opinions that were revealed during
the debates. Broad symbolic elites participated in the debates: people who
exercised control over publicly accessible knowledge, legitimacy of beliefs
and the content of public discourse.
GESCHICHTE
ISBN 978-3-631-62365-7
GESCHICHTE
ISBN 978-3-631-62365-7
Band 5
Piotr Forecki
Reconstructing Memory
The Holocaust in Polish Public Debates
Bibliographic Information published by the Deutsche
Nationalbibliothek
The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche
Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the
internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de.
www.peterlang.de
Contents
Introduction ........................................................................................................... 7
Chapter I
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust in the People’s Republic of Poland .... 13
1. Collective memory and collective forgetting ........................................... 13
2. Genealogy of the need to forget ............................................................... 27
3. From autonomy to repression .................................................................. 48
4. A monument of martyrdom and the encyclopaedists case....................... 57
5. March exorcisms on the Holocaust .......................................................... 67
6. Alibi for Oblivion .................................................................................... 78
Chapter II
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah”:
Recovery of the memory of the Holocaust in the country of witnesses ........ 87
1. Reconstructing the memory of Jews and the Holocaust
in the last decade of the People’s Republic of Poland ............................. 87
2. “Shoah” in Poland: identification of the areas of repression ................. 102
3. What Błoński said in Miłosz’s words. ................................................... 116
Chapter III
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne ............................................ 133
1. The antecedents and the structure of the debate. ................................... 133
2. Historikerstreit in Polish. ....................................................................... 150
3. Jedwabne in the moral discourse ........................................................... 166
4. The defence of the Polish innocence paradigm. .................................... 178
5. Disputes over reconciliation rituals ....................................................... 193
Chapter IV
“Fear” after Jedwabne. The debate that almost didn’t happen ................. 215
1. “Fear” in Poland and in the eyes of historians ....................................... 215
2. Invalidating strategies ............................................................................ 225
3. “Fear” without fear ................................................................................ 243
One of key achievements of the Polish political transition was the unblocking of
the hitherto limited public discourse. It began to include a variety of issues that
had previously been disregarded, ignored, silenced or falsified. The topic of the
Holocaust and the attitudes of its Polish witnesses was one of the problems
about which communist Poland did not speak, at least not in an honest way.
However, it was in the last decade of the communist system in Poland that the
silence was broken by Catholic and oppositionist press, although the range of
these debates was certainly limited.
After 1989, the problem of Polish-Jewish relations during World War II and,
in general, Jewish history, culture and martyrdom, began to become a significant
element of public discourse. These issues were no longer omitted by the Polish
press; many important books appeared on the publishing market and Polish re-
searchers, although few, gradually approached the subject and started to make
amends for the lost decades.The topic of the Holocaust and Polish-Jewish rela-
tions during World War II returned on the occasion of the commemorations of
the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, the Kielce
pogrom and the debate over reprivatisation.
During heated debates resulting from the conflicts about the former exter-
mination camp Auschwitz-Birkenau, Michał Cichy’s article “Poles and Jews:
Black Pages in the Annals of the Warsaw Uprising" published by “Gazeta Wy-
borcza”, became one of the most important subjects of public consideration, as
well as Jan Tomasz Gross’ books: “Neighbours”, “Fear” and “Golden Harvest.”
Also, the works of authors connected with Polish Centre for Holocaust Re-
search: Jan Grabowski and Barbara Engelking1 were widely discussed. The sub-
ject was also commented on after the publication of an article in “Der Spiegel”
entitled: “The Dark Continent: Hitler's European Holocaust Helpers” in 2009
and the premiere of Władysław Pasikowski’s film “Pokłosie” [“The Aftermath”]
in 2012, which was inspired by the story of the murders of Jews committed by
their Polish neighbours.
Doubtlessly, one could list more contexts and occasions when the topic of
the Holocaust was raised. One thing is certain: every time it evoked intense
emotions, it was as though it violated an intimate sphere of the nation and en-
tered the area of national taboos. These emotions demonstrate that the Holocaust
and Polish-Jewish relations pose a problem for Poles, one that is serious, deeply
rooted and of complex origin. This problem has been inherited from the com-
munist period, when it had never been solved but only removed from sight or
instrumentally used. The process of collective forgetting of the Holocaust con-
tributed to serious distortions and gaps in the collective memory, which began to
be fully recognised in the second half of the 1980s, during the first public de-
bates.
This book attempts to reconstruct and analyse the disputes over the Polish-
Jewish past and memory in public debates in Poland between 1985 and 2012,
that is, from the discussion about Claude Lanzmann’s “Shoah” to the controver-
sies after the premiere of Władysław Pasikowski’s “Pokłosie” [“The After-
math”]. Not all the issues related to Polish-Jewish relations, i.e. the Holocaust,
anti-Semitism, etc., became a topic of public debate even if they were an ele-
ment of public discourse. Public discourse, defined as all public communication
available, is a much more complex phenomenon and public debates constitute
only an element of it.2 Public debate includes public discussion and examining
controversial issues and problems and its aim is to settle the dispute. Debate is a
collective reflection on an issue that involves many participants who refer to
each other’s statements. Debates sometimes exist over extended periods of time;
they have their own specific trajectories: beginnings, successive stages, turning
points and more or less tangible ends. They are usually triggered by a conflict,
an event, a publication, or a statement. A debate constitutes a structured entity
and the participants are its architects.
The debates described in this book meet all of these criteria. The analysis
includes their course, dynamics, main moot points and turning points, and –
most importantly – the panorama of opinions revealed in the process. It em-
braced the debates held in the national press of diverse profiles and circulation.
Some of them can certainly be considered a niche. The selection of press to be
examined was not, however, limited by the frequency of publishing, level of cir-
culation or a subjective opinion of their value. My intention was to reconstruct
the widest possible spectrum of opinions that were revealed during the debate.
Besides, opinions presented by periodicals that are considered as marginal and
insignificant often corresponded with opinions that were formulated in leading
papers by main public actors.
The debates were participated in by broad symbolic elites: journalists, cler-
gy, academics, intellectuals and politicians; in other words, people who exer-
cised control over publically accessible knowledge, legitimacy of beliefs and the
content of public discourse.3 Their essays, polemic articles, columns, interviews,
public statements, appeals and sermons co-created the debates that are analysed
in this book. The analyses include both their explicit and implicit content.
This book consists of four chapters and an epilogue and the first chapter is a
prelude that is necessary for reading the others. It would be hard to explain and
understand the emotions that accompanied the debates held in Poland after 1985
without recognising what happened to the Polish memory of the Holocaust be-
tween 1945 and the end of 1990s. During this period, the Holocaust, everything
related to it and anything that caused anxiety was being repressed from collec-
tive, national memory. However diverse the reasons for the Polish desire to for-
get about the extermination of Jews, the fact remains that Polish collective
memory was seriously distorted. Hence, ignoring the phenomenon of collective
forgetting of the Holocaust in communist Poland would be a serious mistake, as
it determined all the following disputes concerning the Polish-Jewish past and
memory. What proves that collective forgetting indeed occurred were the irra-
tional responses to information about Polish attitudes to Jews and the Holocaust
that had been suppressed, distorted or hidden as they could cast a shadow on
Polish nation. As Jerzy Jedlicki aptly noted, no other historical subject in Poland
strikes “a hidden chord of moral sensitivity or resentment” so intensely and so
often.4
The next chapters directly correspond with the title of the book. Chapter II is
devoted to the processes of reconstructing the Polish memory of Jews and the
Holocaust in the last decade of the People’s Republic of Poland. It is based on
the analysis of the first public debates inspired by Claude Lanzmann’s film
“Shoah” and the publication of Jan Błoński’s essay “The Poor Poles Look at the
Ghetto” in the “Tygodnik Powszechny” weekly. On the one hand, the debates
broke the prevailing conspiracy of silence. On the other, they manifested prob-
lems that Poles had to face after 1989 and will probably still have to confront.
Considering their limited scope, these debates are difficult to compare with
those held in the following years. However, their importance was crucial.
Chapter III reconstructs the most important, the most in-depth and the long-
est debate of all discussions about Polish attitudes to the Holocaust and Polish-
Jewish pre-war relations that has ever been held; namely, the debate over Jan
Tomasz Gross’s book titled: “Neighbors. The Destruction of the Jewish Com-
munity in Jedwabne”. The author described the murders of Jews that were
witz victims were Jewish, Poles have rarely perceived this place as a symbol of
Holocaust, simple because the truth about the camp had been falsified. Howev-
er, social awareness has been recently changing for the better. All these ques-
tions have been excluded from the book only because they had already been ful-
ly described by other scholars.6 However, analyses of events that took place af-
ter the Polish edition, which are discussed mainly in the epilogue, have been
added to the book.
Finally, I would like to acknowledge the many people who have made
this book possible First of all, I am very grateful to Anna Kulec, who was the
first proof reader, and Marta Skowrońska, who translated the book into English.
Very special thanks go to Michael Steinlauf, Michał Głowiński, Joanna To-
karska-Bakir, Krystyna Kersten, Jerzy Jedlicki and Mark Ziółkowski. Their
books and articles were a source of inspiration so great that to mention them
solely in footnotes would be an injustice. Certainly, the blame for all the mis-
takes and shortcomings lies only with the author, just as the responsibility for all
the judgments and opinions included in the book are his.
Bronisław Baczko noted, images of past events and persons are valued by collec-
tive memory more than historical knowledge reproduced and provided by histori-
ans.10 Therefore, historical findings and common beliefs do not have to overlap;
collective memory can actually refer to a national imagination consisting of
myths and legends. It is only important that the images shared by a community
refer to the past of that community and co-create a complex system of signs and
symbols that is comprehensible only for the community members.
One should also take into consideration that “collective memory” serves as a
metaphor which represents common content rooted in the minds of many people
at the same time. However, it is always an individual who remembers, not a
community. A member of a social group is also a depository of the collective
memory that is cultivated and transferred within this group. Therefore, collec-
tive memory consists of beliefs about the past events to which an individual re-
fers as a member of a given social group.11
For some social groups, collective memory is a defining element. For in-
stance, nations, religious groups, and ethnic and local communities cannot do
without it if they want to maintain and strengthen their identity.12 A nation is a
remarkable example of a community that is difficult to imagine without refer-
ring to a collective memory of the past.13 Not only is collective memory a neces-
sary ingredient of individual identity, but also the collective identity of each na-
tion. As Paul Ricoeur notes, it “assures the temporal continuity of the person”
and, by this he means that it assures the identity of this person.14 A response to
the question “Who am I?”/“Who are we?” should be preceded with an answer to
another question: “Who was I?”/who were we?” Without memory, individuals
and nations would be automatically deprived of their identity; moreover, their
present would become difficult to comprehend and interpret. A nation needs to
be aware that its present derives from the past and that the past consequently
drives a nation into the future. Thus, it is necessary to maintain continuity with
the past to develop national identity. The further the collective memory goes
back into the past, the stronger the national identity is rooted.15
Needless to say, each nation refers to their past or searches for their roots
with their own varying intensity, as Barbara Szacka noted.16 For Poles, memory
of the past is very significant. They are classified by researchers as a nation
which is “historically sensitive about the past and interested in it”.17
The process of the development of collective memory cannot be reduced to a
simple aggregation of individual memories. There are many factors involved in
this process. The remembered past is an area of a permanent conflict between dif-
ferent images of the past inscribed in the memory of individuals and social
groups. Thus, the development of collective memory can be viewed as a game
that is permanently played between different subjects representing different
memories. For this reason, Bourdieu’s concept of a field seems to be a very useful
theoretical tool to study this phenomenon. Anna Sawisz used Bourdieu’s theory to
analyse the social memory of the past.18 According to this theory, social memory
of the past is a field, in which the “stake of the game” is collective identity.19
This game is played by historians, people who popularise history, various
social groups, interest groups, political parties, the Catholic Church and other
institutionalised and informal participants in public life.20 Particular attention
should be paid to the state authority, represented mainly by the educational sys-
tem and its communication tools. In the field of social memory, there are also
individuals whose memory stems from their own experience and the stories
about the past that they were told by their relatives. Family knowledge of the
past, however, is limited to three generations.21
Certainly, the list of agents who subscribe to the game of memory is incom-
plete, and the social position of the agents is never identical. However, such a
list can be analysed in relation to the political regime of a country and the degree
of permission given to the coexistence of competitive memories of the past. To-
talitarian, authoritarian and liberal-democratic systems will each have a different
impact on it.
The essence of the first two systems is the elimination of any memory that
differs from the official version and thus prevents other “agents of memory”
from speaking. Totalitarian regimes strictly regulate and standardise the field of
social memory. Although the function of every political power is to rule over the
past, only totalitarian power exercises absolute control over it and makes it a key
government tool in addition to deciding what to remember and how and what
should be unquestionably forgotten. According to Hannah Arendt, making peo-
ple, things or subjects disappear from public memory, creating “holes of oblivi-
on”, is an immanent feature of totalitarianism.22 Thus, as Milan Kundera aptly
noted with the words of a character from one of his books: “The struggle of man
against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting”23.
There are also struggles over memory in liberal democracies, although they
are less intensive. They may become exacerbated whenever the state authority
aspires to appropriate the past and dictate a binding interpretation of past events
and when the social past and the official past no longer correspond with each
other.
Official memory includes the public and formal interpretations of the past
that are controlled by the state authority. The authorities use various methods to
spread this version and, at the same time, to control it. Official memory mani-
fests itself in national celebrations, iconography, publications, and memorials
and it is transferred through the media and the educational system. Official
memory always occupies a privileged position in the field of social memory and
in public discourse, regardless of the character of the political regime. This is
because every power has a stake in controlling what is remembered and how it
is commemorated. As Michael Foucault noted, “if one controls people’s
memory, one controls their dynamism”.24
By contrast, common memory consists of social beliefs and images about
the past, which are shared regardless of whether they were granted official per-
science or course book texts about the past. Interpretations of the past are also
given via TV and radio educational programmes, documentaries and movies,
street names, symbolic policy, anniversaries, commemorations and national hol-
idays29 and are developed by journalists, historians, teachers, and other public
actors. Although the “disseminated memory” still occupies a privileged position,
it always runs into common memory based on individual knowledge and experi-
ence. Researchers who analyse collective memory identify two main forms of
the relationship between common and disseminated memory.
According to Barbara Szacka, “disseminated memory” reaches the general
populace and is submitted to the processes of selection and falsification or con-
firmation. It is confronted with the current resource of factual knowledge, be-
liefs and evaluative judgments about the past. Both knowledge and judgment
result from personal experience and from family and generational transmission.
Only when filtered through these media is “disseminated memory” able to pene-
trate “common memory”, which is never a simple reflection and accumulation
of messages from the “educational and persuasive area”.30
According to Jerzy Jedlicki, however, disseminated memory consists of nu-
merous and often mutually contradictory stories of the past. These stories serve
as templates for “thousands of individual biographies, deprived of what is irreg-
ular, unusual, inconsistent or ambiguous”.31 In other words, individual memories
are honed so they can be assimilated into the collectively negotiated and created
memory of the past. Collective memory thus seems to be a metaphorical name
for the accepted image of the past of the “disseminated memory”. This is the
image in which individual memories find their roots and from which they learn
about the past that is already unavailable for them. As Waldemar Kuligowski
notes, selectivity of human memory is sometimes supplemented with the content
of the “objectifying collective discourse”.32
The theories presented above seem to complement rather than exclude each
other as they both refer to two elementary human needs: confirmation of identity
and belonging to a community. People need to define themselves as individuals
with unique biographies but also as members of some community. As a result,
their own past memories are supplemented, confirmed and strengthened in the
and the media. According to Hartman, public memory is jittery, mobile and perpetually
changing; See: G. H. Hartman, The Longest Shadow: In the Aftermath of the Holocaust,
Indiana University Press 1996, p. 107.
29 B. Szacka, Transformacja..., p. 208-209.
30 B. Szacka, Transformacja..., p. 209.
31 See: J. Jedlicki, O pamięci zbiorowej, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 26-27 VII 1997, p. 14.
32 W. Kuligowski, O historii, literaturze i teraźniejszości oraz innych formach zapo-
minania, “Konteksty” 2003, no 3-4, p. 83.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 19
memories of people who surround them. If the need to belong is stronger than
the desire for individuality and uniqueness or if our own memories fail – David
Lowenthal notes – “we adjust personal elements to the collectively remembered
past and we gradually stop recognizing which is which”.33
It is worth noticing that collective memory is always influenced by the pre-
sent. It is the present that decides what should be remembered at a given mo-
ment and how it should be remembered, but also which past events or people
should be forgotten: it defines their position in the collective memory and de-
termines historical interpretations. Researchers who study the determinants of
attitudes to the past agree that the present is the determining factor, while our
reception and perception of the past are always subjected to current problems,34
as well as our interest in the past, its recollections and actualisations.
It is also usually true that traumatised nations and societies have a particular
tendency to look towards the past to find comfort or confirmation of their identi-
ty.35 Moreover, collective memory, like individual memory, is adjustable and
can be adapted to what is currently believed to be just and glorious, and what is
to be condemned. It evolves with the changing criteria of social judgements, to
which it adjusts the stored images of the past.
Without doubt, however, there are specific events and people from the past
that will always generate memories, although there is no certainty when and
how they will be remembered and interpreted, what meaning they will convey,
who will claim them and which goals they will serve. One should thus agree
with Jan Assman, according to whom “cultural memory has its fixed point, its
horizon does not change with the passing of time (...) we call these [points] ‘fig-
ures of memory’ (...) it always relates its knowledge to an actual and contempo-
rary situation (...) sometimes by appropriation, sometimes by criticism, some-
times by preservation or by transformation.”36 Memory is flexible and the pre-
sent influences “figures of memory”’. This is proved by debates about past
events held in different parts of the world and concern changes in current “fig-
ures of memory.”37 Redefined, they are no longer valid or lose their exclusive
access code to the past.
It would be a truism to say that no complete set of past events and per-
sons are stored in the collective memory of a nation and not everything that
took place a long time ago is automatically classified as a “historical can-
on”.38 These events and characters go through the evaluation process and only
a select few play a significant role in the collective memory of a nation, as a
reference point for current actions. Therefore, collective memory has little in
common with the notion of tradition in the subjective sense, as proposed by
Jerzy Szacki, which covers only the part of heritage that the consecutive gen-
erations agree to maintain and keep alive.39 What matters is not the objective
legacy but the way the elements from the past are evaluated. From this per-
spective, tradition is incorporated into the present and “represents a particular
type of value which needs to be referred to the past to be defended (or criti-
cised)” and these values must be shared and accepted by a community.40
Referring to Marek Ziółkowski, one could say that collective forgetting is a
reversal of the phenomenon of collective memory. Collective forgetting means
that even if certain beliefs concerning the past cross someone's mind, they are
transformed, reduced, reinterpreted and pushed to the subconscious; they cease
to be the subject of public discussion, and do not give rise to any group or indi-
vidual activities of a practical nature.41
Needless to say, aspects of our past that are submitted to the process of for-
getting are diverse and such is the influence of forgetting on our identity. From
the perspective of this book, however, one particular variant of forgetting is sig-
nificant. First of all, it concerns the community; second of all, it refers to past
events that fall into oblivion for a particular reason42: usually those that bring
shame and discomfort to the community, and/or do not match the acknowledged
and cultivated model of collective identity. As with individual forgetting, collec-
tive oblivion also applies to the rule expressed by Maurice Halbwachs that one
remembers what is comfortable to remember and forgets what is comfortable to
forget.43
In this context, collective forgetting does not result from the natural limita-
tions of human memory, which is sometimes fragmentary, selective and bur-
dened with information coming from everywhere. This approach is not intended
to be a positive answer to Friedrich Nietzsche’s appeal that warned against “the
excess of history” which “has attacked life’s plastic powers” and propagated the
necessity or even apotheosis of oblivion and “enclosing oneself within a bound-
ed horizon.”44 Also, oblivion is not perceived the way Jürgen Habermas defined
it, who stated that exact memory of events crucial for the collective past is relat-
ed to the means of actively forgetting the past and letting it go.45
Collective forgetting refers to something completely different. It exposes the
more or less conscious disposition of community members to omit some aspects
of the past and leave them beyond the margins of collective memory. They are
aspects that bring shame and mental discomfort and sometimes burden the
community with responsibility and sometimes, in addition to the symbolic apol-
ogy, require practical action such as reparations or restitution. They do not
match the cultivated narratives about their bravery, glory and suffering, but con-
stitute a completely new story. If this story were acknowledged, it would present
a diverse and complex image of the past. It would also require necessary correc-
tions to the collective memory, which would enrich it and introduce balance be-
tween glory and disgrace. As a result, a complete reconstruction of collective
identity would be possible.
Needless to say, collective forgetting manifests itself in diverse forms and on
different levels. According to Paul Ricoeur, it may be as passive as it is active. It
is “a strategy of avoidance, of evasion, of flight”, “motivated by a will not to in-
form oneself, not to investigate the harm done by the citizen’s environment, in
short by a wanting-not-to-know”. These two levels of collective forgetting can
overlap and complement each other but can also be mutually exclusive. Sponta-
neous, social processes of forgetting sometimes cover the state policy of forget-
ting about some elements of the uncomfortable past. In this case, institutionalised
oblivion, or, as Shari J. Cohen labelled it, “state-organized forgetting of histo-
ry”46, corresponds with spontaneous forgetting and even overlaps it. This often
happens in the name of an unspoken national agreement not to deal with difficult
subjects and antagonise society. Forgetting helps to legitimise power, to keep a
collective good mood and, in particular, to defend the collective identity that
are “two distinct layers of memory and oblivion, and, consequently, two main
types of ‘skeletons’. One is linked with the pre-communist past (up to 1945),
while the other is connected with the communist past (1945-1989)”. The differ-
ence between them is significant.
The former are “mostly ‘all-national’” and “kept in the closet” in the name
of the national interest “because they can be detrimental to the perception and
self-perception of the national group as a whole”, while the latter “are hidden in
the closet not by the national group as a whole, but rather by some particular
groups or individuals”.51 However, the processes of the collective forgetting of
the elements of the national past from before 1945 were intensified in the com-
munist period. In other words, “skeletons” from the pre-communist period were
then banished.
There are several issues related to the past that were falsified, reinterpreted
and repressed after 1945, both by official and common memory. First of all, col-
lective forgetting was evident with regard to the culture, tradition and achieve-
ments of ethnic groups that had lived on Polish territory before the war. Second-
ly, “Poles concentrated on their own fate tended and still tend to disregard or
belittle pains, tragedies and losses of other ethnic groups”. Thirdly, it was also
forgotten that “although Poles were mainly victims they sometimes also victim-
ised others”. Fourthly, “Poles tend to forget or minimise the fact that they on
many occasions also unjustly benefited from all those historical processes, that
they were beneficiaries of some acts of injustice.”52
All these aspects of the past constitute the realm of historical taboo. This
specific social phenomenon is particularly true in the case of the Holocaust,
which was organised and led by Nazi Germany. The subject of the Holocaust
may be even considered as a paradigmatic manifestation of the process of col-
lective forgetting in Poland, during which official memory corresponded with a
spontaneous need to forget among the masses. Between 1945 and 1989 the
aforementioned “all-national community of forgetting and selective remember-
ing” developed. It was only at the beginning of the 1980s, when the first signals
of breaking the national conspiracy of silence appeared, that the national con-
spiracy of silence would break. Before presenting a fragmentary analysis of the
collective forgetting of the Holocaust, however, it is important to provide the
context.
Under the policy of Nazi Germany, Poland became the main arena for the
extermination of Polish Jews and other Jews deported from Nazi-occupied Eu-
rope. It was in the Polish territory where Nazis built concentration camps, in
53 These places were acknowledged as extermination camps the Act of 7 May 1999 on the
protection of former Nazi extermination camps Journal of Laws of 1999, No. 41, item
412 as amended)
54 J. T. Gross, Upiorna dekada. Trze eseje o stereotypach na temat Żydów, Polaków,
Niemców i komunistów 1939-1948, Kraków 2001, p. 58-59.
55 See: F. Tych (Ed.), Pamięć. Historia Żydów Polskich przed, w czasie, i po Zagładzie,
Warszawa 2004, p. 66-67, 157.
56 This number does not include repatriates from the Soviet Union. Ibidem, p. 175-180;
See: B. Szaynok, Ocaleni z Holokaustu w Polsce 1944-1950, [in:] Holokaust. Lekcja
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 25
were calls for the boycott of Jewish businesses and plans to solve the Jewish
question in Poland.67
The distance between Poles and Jews was also strengthened by Polish stere-
otypes and prejudices towards Jews. Internalisation of these stereotypes was not
necessarily equal to anti-Semitism. Most likely, people who simply did not like
Jews, who saw them as competition and who shared stereotypes about them out-
numbered declared, ideological anti-Semites.
Such an atmosphere of distance and separation prevailed when World War
II broke out. Nazi occupiers realised their plan of the Final Solution before
Polish eyes. As Franciszek Ryszka noted, however, neither the conclusions
drawn from historical knowledge nor empirical manifestations of behaviour
suggest that witnessing the Holocaust first-hand made Polish society significant-
ly modify their attitudes towards Jews. Feelings and attitudes resulting from
them remained as they had been, “in a wide variety of ethical views”. Also, anti-
Semitism did not disappear “as if by magic”68 after observing how the Germans
treated the Jews. It is thus safe to say that the negative attitude towards Jews
must have blunted moral judgement of the Holocaust both as it was taking place
and after the war.
Anti-Semitism in Polish society was recorded by the representatives of the
Polish Underground State in their memoranda. There were notes about it in the
reports and commands of Home Army (Armia Krajowa) and the Government
Delegation for Poland.69 Also the Courier Jan Karski informed General
Władysław Sikorski, who was staying in France at the time, about the anti-
Semitism in occupied Poland, but his note was repressed for many years.
The diagnoses enclosed in some documents of the Polish Underground State
were probably right to say that the news about some Jewish acts in eastern Po-
land after 17 September 1939 intensified the anti-Semitic atmosphere and nega-
tive attitudes towards Jews within Polish society. The news was about Jews who
welcomed the new occupiers with enthusiasm. It does not matter whether it was
true or the image was hoaxed and transformed into myth on the basis of selec-
tive and biased information.70 What matters is that the stereotype of Jewish
communists (żydokomuna) was strengthened or revived and as a result the dis-
tance between Poles and Jews was extended.
The most interesting observation made on the basis of the reports of the
Polish Underground State was the one by Krystyna Kersten about the “almost
complete separation of Jewish martyrdom from the so-called “Jewish question”.
According to Kersten, who has analysed historical sources, “the extermination
of the Jewish nation taking place before Poles’ eyes” probably did not change
anything about “the stereotype of a Jew as a threat which perpetuated in the col-
lective imagination.”71
What can definitively prove Kersten’s words is a leaflet titled “Protest,” in
which Zofia Kossak-Szczucka, a Catholic activist and writer involved in the
struggle to save Jews, addressed her compatriots. She appealed to all religious
Poles to take an active defensive stand in the face of the atrocity against Jews.
She condemned the silence of Poles and of the world, stating: “Those who are
silent in the face of murder become accomplices to the crime. Those who do not
condemn – approve.” At the same time, however, she claimed: our feelings to-
ward Jews have not changed. We do not stop thinking about them as political,
economic and ideological enemies of Poland. Moreover we do realise that they
still hate us more than Germans, to the extent that they make us co-responsible
for their misfortune. Why? On what basis? It remains the secret of the Jewish
soul. Nevertheless, that is a fact that is continuously confirmed. Awareness of
those feelings doesn't relieve us from the duty to condemn the crime.”72
Indeed, it would be hard to find more dramatic evidence of the separation of
Jewish martyrdom from the so-called Jewish question, described by Krystyna
Kersten. Zofia Kossak-Szczucka’s leaflet proves that the Holocaust did not
bring any broad transformation of Polish attitudes towards Jews. Observing it
did not contribute to challenging stereotypes, prejudice, and anti-Semitism or
reducing the distance between Poles and Jews. The content of the leaflet shows
that it was possible to provide aid to Jews and condemn the atrocities against
them and at the same time consider Jews as enemies of the Polish nation. Per-
haps many anti-Semites saved Jews during the war but regarded them as
strangers and enemies. They saved Jews in the name of Christian love, Catholic
ethics or some other sense of duty and believed that aiding them was what
70 About Jewish behaviour in the east of Poland after 17 September 1939, See: J.T. Gross,
Upiorna…, p. 61-93.
71 K. Kersten, op. cit., p. 17.
72 See: Odezwa Protest! Konspiracyjnego Frontu Odrodzenia Polski pióra Zofii Kossak,
Warszawa, sierpień 1942 r., [in:] Polacy-Żydzi 1939-1945, Wybór Źródeł, A.K. Kunert
(Ed.), Warszawa 2006, p. 212-213.
30 Chapter I
should and had to be done. Thus, the instance of Zofia Kossak-Szczucka was not
likely to be an isolated case.
However, this case is still a unique point of reference. Zofia Kossak-
Szczucka co-founded the Council to Aid Jews (Rada Pomocy Żydom), “Zego-
ta”. Then, as Michael Steinlauf notes, if even a founder of this meritorious or-
ganisation was an anti-Semite, “what could one have expected from an average
Pole, lacking, let us assume, Kossak’s extraordinary moral sensitivity?” While if
she was far from anti-Semitism but believed that referring to Jews as enemies of
Poland “would make her appeal more effective”, this manipulation says nothing
positive about the attitudes of her contemporaries.73
The pre-war distance between Poles and Jews was thus continued during the
war alongside old stereotypes and prejudice. The policy of the occupier contrib-
uted to extending the distance, and the division between “we” and “them” was
even more firmly grounded.
The Nazis destined Jews for “Special Treatment”. They marked them with
stigmatising “Stars of David”, separated them from the rest of society by ghetto
walls and attempted to dehumanise them with the help of propaganda, e.g. by
comparing them to insects. Above all, the Nazis sentenced the Jewish nation to
be the first to die on the basis of racial criteria. They also popularised these cri-
teria in Polish society.74
Thus, a group of people was singled out from the suffering and oppressed
Polish nation and destined a special fate. The Jews’ situation during German oc-
cupation was much harder than the situation of the majority of Poles. Although
the Nazis made the lives of both Jews and Poles hell, Jews were placed in its
lowest circles, in an atmosphere of contempt, helplessness and loneliness. Such
a situation did not in the least bring the two nations closer, but rather extended
the distance between them. As Zygmunt Bauman notes, while “equality in suf-
fering unites and heals”, “‘singling out’ part of the sufferers for special treat-
ment leaves hatred and moral terror”.75
Therefore, as a result of the distance between them, intensified by the occu-
piers’ policy, Poles and Jews were dying separately. However, the loneliness
and singularity of death was mostly a Jewish experience and that is how Jews
have perceived it ever since. Also, some Poles believe that the Holocaust in-
volved only Germans and Jews: perpetrators and victims, and that it did not in-
73 See: M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead. Poland and the Memory of the Holocaust,
Syracuse University Press, Syracuse, New York, p. 40.
74 See: K. Kersten, J. Szapiro, Konteksty współczesnych odniesień polsko-żydowskich,
“Więź” 1998, no 7, p. 286.
75 Z. Bauman, On immoral reason and illogical morality, “Polin” 1998, t. 3, p. 296.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 31
volve Poles, even if it struck terror into them and took place before their eyes.
The instances of Poles saving Jews do not blur this image: instead, they com-
plete it. Two different communities of memory have developed, one Polish and
one Jewish, for during the war the two nations lived in two different worlds,
separated by ghetto walls. An inherent feature of the “communities of memory”
is that they “cannot possess empathy for the victims in other communities and
the phrase, ‘I feel your pain,’ often means merely: ‘I’ll concede that you feel
pain’76 In the case of Poles and Jews, the communities separated before and dur-
ing the war by a piercing feeling of distance, these words are particularly true.
What has been said so far about the distance between Poles and Jews as a
reason for forgetting the Holocaust and the Jews seems to prove that Marcin Ku-
la was right in stating that if these communities “had been close, one would have
cared about the fate of the other and mourned it. Since they were not, the one
that survived has not devoted appropriate attention to the one that died”.77
Additional circumstances of this distance and oblivion as a consequence of
it arose in Poland at the end of the war. Pursuant to the decisions made at the
Yalta Conference, Poland was under a new “occupation”: the predominantly
Soviet influence. In the new postwar political system, Jews appeared in a com-
pletely new role. A moment earlier, their Holocaust was observed. Now they
were back as state officials, members of the Office of Public Security [Polish:
Urząd Bezpieczeństwa, UB, the communist secret police, intelligence and coun-
ter-espionage service] and members of the communist Polish Workers' Party.78
Some may have thought that if Jews were seen in the streets and holding im-
portant positions, the information about Holocaust could be an exaggeration and
that in fact not so many of them had died during the war.79
Although Jews were indeed found in the structures of the new communist
power, and some of them held important political positions, their number was
exaggerated in the collective imagination. They were thus regarded as usurpers,
occupiers and executioners of the heroes from the Home Army who had fought
for independence. Jews were viewed as oppressors and new foes working for
Stalin. Hatred towards the new authorities incited or flared the hatred towards
Jews, seen as personification of the new political power. The belief in the con-
nection between Jews and state authorities was even strengthened by the fact
that in the first years after the war, the state addressed the Holocaust survivors
very favourably and sympathetically (which will be further discussed later in
this chapter). As some researchers suggest, the very fact that Jews held im-
portant public positions may have brought dissonance and objections as it vio-
lated the social order in which Jews had their own position in social structure
and hierarchy.80
The stereotype of Jewish communists (żydokomuna) revived and the conflict
between the authorities and the general populace overlapped with the conflict
between Poles and Jews. The stereotype, let us recall, not only survived the war,
but it was actually strengthened by the information about Jewish acts in the east
of Poland during Soviet occupation. As this stereotype implied the strangeness
of the new political power and incited hatred towards the authorities, Jews began
to be removed from their positions while those with “good appearance” were
encouraged to change their names to ones that sounded more Polish. As a result,
authorities were supposed to seem more Polish and familiar and and not stimu-
late the negative connotations that were associated with a Jewish presence.
Not only did anti-Semitism survive the war, it was also intensified by the
presence of Jews within new and hated power structures. Perhaps it was also the
virulently anti-Semitic propaganda of Nazi occupiers that contributed to its sur-
vival and consolidation. Why was this ideology not compromised and under-
mined? Why did it manage to survive the war when Jews did not? A convincing
answer was given by Aleksander Smolar, who described the phenomenon as “a
paradox of national unity”.
Although during the war there were traitors who collaborated with the occu-
piers for money, because of hatred or as a result of torture or blackmail, there
was no institutionalised collaboration under the auspices of the Polish state. Po-
land did not deliver their Petain or Quisling. Left and right wing representatives,
communists and nationalists, liberals and conservatives, masons and national
Catholics: they all fought together against the Nazis. In other words, representa-
tives of all pre-war political options, parties and organisations, who had almost
nothing in common before 1 September 1939, then found a common purpose.
However, while collaborator governments and parties in other occupied Eu-
ropean countries disgraced themselves with anti-Semitism, the underground was
usually anti-Fascist, democratic and against anti-Semitism (considered as an el-
ement of the “traitor syndrome”), anti-Semitism in Poland maintained its patriot-
ic, national and democratic legitimacy. Anti-Semitic National Democracy was a
part of the Polish Underground State and the government in exile. According to
Alekssander Smolar, anti-Semitism in Poland “did not wear the stigma of col-
laboration with Germans”, it could “prosper perfectly” during the war: “in the
street, (...,) in the underground press, political parties, and army forces” and also
after the war.81 In other words, during the war one could be both a hero, an ally
in the fight for a just cause, and an anti-Semite, which in a way justified anti-
Semitism as an accepted and functioning view.
The strength of stereotypes and negative views about Jews also helped Polish
anti-Semitism survive the war. The ethnographer Alina Cała, on the basis of stud-
ies on the image of Jews in Polish folk culture conducted in 1975, 1976, 1978,
and 1984, decided that the Holocaust and the sudden disappearance of Jewish cul-
ture even intensified and strengthened anti-Semitism.82 Anti-Semitism and preju-
dices against Jews do not need Jewish presence as legitimisation. Anti-Semitism
is a phantasmagorical phenomenon and belongs to a category of images that are
independent from reality. One could even say that it develops more efficiently if
there are no or hardly any Jews and thus imagination is not restricted.
A particular confirmation that anti-Semitic stereotypes survived in postwar
Poland were anti-Jewish pogroms in Rzeszow, Cracow and Kielce, which resulted
directly from rumours about alleged blood libels.83 Similar gossip, although never
resulting in pogroms, appeared also in July 1946 in Czestochowa, Lodz and Ka-
lisz. The rumour spread in Kalisz said that having murdered their victims, Jews
gave their bodies to Ukrainians who processed them into sausages.84
Therefore, as it has been already said, the pre-war distance between Poles
and Jews, intensified by anti-Semitism, stereotypes, Nazi policy, and the post-
war situation, befitted the Polish amnesia concerning Jews and the Holocaust.
There are, however, also other circumstances and factors that determined the
process of forgetting about Jews and the Holocaust and the need to forget about
them.
One of them was certainly the situation in Poland after the war. The ending
of the war did not bring Poles complete satisfaction with their regained freedom.
The change of occupiers decreed at the Yalta Conference and the turning of Po-
land into a satellite state under the hegemony of the Soviet Union for decades
made Poland face new challenges and new problems. Poles had to struggle with
a new reality, one that absorbed their attention much more than brooding over
the disappearance of the Jewish community and former Polish-Jewish relations.
Even if the subject of Jews and the Holocaust returned during the communist
period, it was used by communist propagandists and no honest debate was pos-
sible.
Most importantly, however, after the war Poles were focussed on cultivating
their own martyrdom. As Henryk Szlajfer rightly noted, after the war “there
were enough graves for years of mourning and memories so as not to care about
someone not in fact known.”85 Almost every Polish family had someone to la-
ment over, or suffered terror and uncertainty, scarcity or poverty of the time of
occupation. War losses afflicted almost every family, not to mention material
damages. Communities of memory, as already mentioned, cultivate memories of
their own suffering and are impregnable against the suffering of other communi-
ties. Moreover, Poles have always tended to contemplate the sufferings and
wrongs done to them, for which the twists and turns of national history have
provided many reasons.
It is worth mentioning that the Polish nation likes to feel proud of its own
heroism, sacrifice, resistance and struggle. Poles often recall various uprisings,
rebellions against the occupiers’ attempts to denationalise them, and the evi-
dence of their struggles “for your freedom and for ours”. World War II also pro-
vided a wide range of reasons for national pride, examples of resistance, fight
and sacrifice. It has an important position in the Polish collective memory, as it
also did at the times of the People’s Republic of Poland, according to the study
of Barbara Szacka.86 Poles, as one historian noticed, use World War II as a
means of improving their mood, as a compensation for failures, confirmation of
their uniqueness and as an ersatz success.87 The memory of war suffering and
heroism is something that certainly unites them and makes them feel appreciat-
ed. Brooding over the Holocaust and Jews disturbs this black and white image
of the war and can divide Poles.
Here we approach another reason for forgetting about the Holocaust and
Jews: the postwar “competition” between Poles and Jews for the precedence in
suffering. This competition has involved both sides up until now. It is unequal,
however, as the Nazi policy towards Jews and Poles was not equal and their fate
dissimilar. Ignoring this dissimilarity not only proves short-sightedness but also
leads to risky interpretations and intellectual misuse. Contemplating the memory
of their martyrdom, Poles do not want to remember the enormous difference of
the Jewish situation relative to their own. Whole Jewish families were killed on
the basis of their origin and the extermination camps were intended to murder
the whole Jewish nation. Poles deny these “obvious facts” – as Stanisław Kra-
jewski noted – “as if they were afraid these facts could belittle the sufferings of
Poles”.88 These denials are based on reinterpretations, half-truths and rhetorical
misuse, which are intended to let Poles maintain the glory of their unquestioned
suffering and heroism.
First of all, from a Polish point of view, Polish and Jewish war fates are con-
sidered to be identical and the differences between their situations are disregard-
ed. Sometimes there are even voices that suggest that Nazi schemes intended
Poles to be the next to be exterminated but that the Germans did not manage to
implement their plan. Therefore, while before the war Poles envied Jewish posi-
tions and money, after the war, they also envied ghettos and crematoria chim-
neys.”89
Secondly, people tend to forget that behind the number of Polish war vic-
tims, overestimated and falsified by propagandists, there are 3 million Polish
Jews who were post mortem categorised as Poles, even if they had been treated
as second class citizens while alive.
Thirdly, during and after the war, Jews were criticised for their passivity,
that is, for not having resisted the Nazis. The myth of passivity managed to sur-
vive the war.90 In this context, the Polish attitude was thought to be an antithesis
of Jewish passivity and a reason to be proud.
Last but not least, there was yet another reason to forget about Jews and the
Holocaust in the name of the heroic-martyred vision of the war. Memories of
them would evoke questions about Polish attitudes towards the Holocaust and
bring discomfort, disturb the construct of national identity based on martyr-like
tendencies and heroic motives and force Poles to deconstruct it. Moreover, it is
justified to believe that Polish attitudes towards the Holocaust were the main
reason to forget about Jews and the unprecedented event that was the Holocaust.
I do not want to belittle the other reasons for this particular oblivion that have
been already mentioned. I only claim – and not only I – that the “punishment of
witnessing” imposed on Poles by the Nazi occupiers left them injured and bur-
dened with the sin of guilt and omission.91 Therefore, the answer to the question
as to what demanded to be forgotten and how sums up the Polish attitudes to-
wards the Holocaust.
As has been already stated, the Holocaust was not an event that was impos-
sible to observe, but it certainly was impossible to comprehend. It was not or-
ganised in Poland because of its anti-Semitic atmosphere or alleged social con-
sent, as some people claim. It was organised in Poland for logistic reasons. In
comparison to other European countries, Poland was inhabited by the greatest
number of Jews. Poland became the main arena of the Holocaust and Poles were
forced to be its witnesses, or bystanders. The Holocaust was an event that, ac-
cording to the Raul Hilberg definition, involved perpetrators, victims and by-
standers.92 If the Holocaust was an unprecedented event, so was witnessing it.93
What were the attitudes of Poles towards the Holocaust then? In her analysis
of this question, Antonina Kłosskowska noted that it was not possible to present
the full picture, for some facts are impossible to reconstruct and it was unlikely
to “determine the proportions of different types of human behaviour”. It is not
possible because witnesses pass away and their memories are subjected to inter-
pretation and selection.94 Nevertheless, it is possible to present average and gen-
eral categories of the attitudes of Poles towards the Holocaust. Let us start with
the most isolated and extreme ones: Poles who saved Jews and Poles who sup-
ported the Nazis in implementing their plan of the “Final Solution”.
Neither group constituted a majority of the Polish society. Similarly, as the
theories of common collaboration between Poles and their occupants are ordi-
nary lies, so are the conforming statements about mass aid given to Jews. There
was Polish Council to Aid Jews “Zegota”95, there were Polish heroes who risked
their lives to help Jews despite the restrictive regulations introduced by the Na-
zis and capital punishment for helping and hiding Jews. The evidence of their
existence can be found in the Jerusalem institute Yad Vashem, where olive trees
grow, and in the titles of the “Righteous Among the Nations”. Most of the
“Righteous” are Poles – not because the Polish nation was particularly willing to
make sacrifices and risk their lives, but because Poland was the main arena of
the Holocaust. It is, however, often forgotten and hidden behind the olive trees
of Yad Vashem, which are intended to refute the accusations of passivity and
indifference.
Unfortunately, there were also Poles who made their infamous contribution
to the Holocaust and demonstrated an “actively hostile attitude”.96 With their
own free will, they participated in the murders of Jews organised by the Ger-
mans or even committed these murders on their own during the war.97 The Jed-
wabne pogrom is the most famous example of this kind of attitude, but, unfortu-
nately, not the only one. There were many more similar events in the region and
all of them proceeded according to a very similar scenario.98
There were many more Poles, however, who did not participate in pogroms
but denounced and blackmailed hiding Jews, profiting from their tragedy. They
also significantly hindered the efforts of those who provided help to Jews.
Sometimes it was their main source of income, a kind of profession, sometimes
only incidental behaviour stemming from a temptation for easy profit and con-
venient circumstances. Jan Grabowski, the author of a pioneering work about
szmalcownictwo in Poland [blackmailing Jews who were hiding, or blackmail-
ing Poles who protected Jews], argues that contrary to popular opinions, this
phenomenon was not “a marginal behaviour but a source of income for thou-
sands of people”.99 His research findings are confirmed by many wartime mem-
oirs (not only by Jewish authors) in which one can find a returning motif of the
fear of Polish szmalcowniks and denunciation by Poles. Underground press pro-
96 “Actively hostile attitude” is one of the attitudes of Poles towards the Holocaust distin-
guished by Antonina Kłoskowska and based on behavioural criteria. It is the attitude of
those who “participated in the persecution and extermination of Jews, in any form ex-
cept direct compulsion, that is, terror of the occupant. Such an activity, regardless of its
motives, can be defined as complicity in the crime”. See: A. Kłoskowska, op. cit.,
p. 113.
97 See: B. Engelking-Boni, Jest taki piękny słoneczny dzień… Losy Żydów szukających
ratunku na wsi polskiej 1942-1945, Warszawa 2011; J. Grabowski, Judenjagd. Polowa-
nie na Żydów 1942-1945. Studium dziejów jednego powiatu, Warszawa 2011.
98 See: A. Żbikowski, U genezy Jedwabnego. Żydzi na Kresach Pólnocno-Wschodnich II
Rzeczpospolitej. Wrzesień 1939 – lipiec 1941, Warszawa 2006, p. 213-233;
P. Machcewicz, Wokół Jedwabnego, [in:] Wokół Jedwabnego, P. Machcewicz, K. Persak
(Eds.), Warszawa 2002, t. 1, p. 9-63; A. Żbikowski, Pogromy i mordy ludności żydow-
skiej w Łomżyńskiem i na Białostocczyźnie latem 1941 roku w świetle relacji ocalałych
Żydów i dokumentów sądowych, [in:] Wokół Jedwabnego, op. cit., p. 159-273.
99 See: J. Grabowski, “Ja tego Żyda znam!”. Szantażowanie Żydów w Warszawie 1939-
1943, Warszawa 2004, p. 8.
38 Chapter I
vided up-to-date information about it. The problem was also described by the
leading archivist of the Holocaust, Emanuel Ringelblum.100 Needless to say, not
every Pole who denounced Jews and disclosed their hideouts hoped for some
kind of payment from Germans or blackmailed Jews. Such behaviour was also
motivated by the fear of their own life and the life of their families.
Heroic and disgraceful behaviour is only one element of the overall attitude
of Poles towards the extermination of the Jews. There was a passive crowd of
bystanders surrounding the heroes and szmalcowniks, and as with any tragedy,
the passive bystanders made up the largest group. Some of them were Poles who
observed the Holocaust with “reluctant passivity.”101 They entered the wartime
with a baggage of stereotypes and prejudices against Jews, and the Holocaust
taking place before their eyes did nothing to change their opinions. Perhaps
some of them felt some sort of satisfaction that the “Jewish question” would be
solved without their own participation, although with their silent approval. They
were the ones who Zygmunt Bauman described as those who “could do some-
thing, maybe even a lot, but they did not want to or were not convinced that the
murders in front of their eyes were something bad.”102 They, and all those who
did not give aid to Jews when it was possible, were the ones about whom Fran-
ciszek Ryszka said they had committed “criminal omission.”103
There were also Poles, probably many of them, who felt sympathy and
compassion towards Jews, and terror because of their suffering (“sympathetic
passivity”).104 They observed the Holocaust with terror but could not do any-
thing. Some turned their heads away because they could do little, some decided
it was a problem of Jews and Germans and not theirs. The latter observed the
Jewish tragedy with indifference resulting from the long-standing distance and
cultural and religious strangeness. For them, Jews had always been outside the
borders of the Polish community. Their attitude could perhaps be labelled as “re-
luctant passivity”. Indifference, however, was also a form of defensive response
to the helplessness against the scenes of Holocaust they were observing.105
100 See: E. Ringelblum, Stosunki polsko-żydowskie w czasie drugiej wojny światowej, War-
szawa 1988.
101 See: A. Kłoskowska, op. cit., p. 116.
102 Z. Bauman, Holokaust: pięćdziesiąt lat później, [in:] Holocaust z perspektywy
półwiecza. Pięćdziesiąta rocznica Powstania w Getcie Warszawskim. Materiały z kon-
ferencji zorganizowanej przez Żydowski Instytut Historyczny w dniach 29-31 marca
1993, D. Grinberg, P. Szapiro (Eds.), Warszawa 1993, p. 33.
103 See: F. Ryszka, op. cit., p. 309.
104 See: A. Kłoskowska, op. cit., p. 118-127.
105 See: B. Szaynok, Problem antysemityzmu w relacjach polsko-żydowskich w latach
1945-1953, [in:] Zagłada Żydów. Pamięć narodowa a pisanie historii w Polsce i we
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 39
only a fear of the envious environment and their imagination that conjured up
the visions of gold, diamonds and other goods that the savers were widely sup-
posed to have gained for their help? Or, perhaps, it was not befitting for a Pole
to help Jews; coming to their aid was seen as dishonour, as something discredit-
ing and deserving infamy. Or maybe Jan Tomasz Gross was right in saying that
the Righteous were afraid to confess their sacrifice because they had “breached
the existing canon of behaviour” and for this reason the local community “might
have felt threatened”. Gross also suggested that the Righteous treated Jews dif-
ferently than the “actively hostile” group and, in particular, the passive rest, and
nothing bound them to the “community of silence” formed after the war.”109
Even if none of these questions leads to the right track to the truth, how can one
explain the fact that after the war, the Righteous were afraid to confess to having
saved Jewish lives?
Years later, Gross’s suppositions were confirmed by the case of Antonina
Wyrzykowska. In the course of the debate about the Jedwabne pogrom, this
modest woman, who had saved Jews from certain death, was sentenced to ostra-
cism by her “neighbours” from Jedwabne. Surrounded by reluctance and suspi-
cion, she had to relocate and then lived in solitude110 because she did not follow
the “canon of conduct” and made the community feel guilty. Antonina
Wyrzykowska reminded people of their passivity and complicity through her
undoubted heroism.
Therefore, the continuum of Polish attitudes towards the Holocaust consists
of the Righteous, of szmalcowniks and, in particular, of passive bystanders. The
overpowering social need to forget about Jews and the Holocaust was particular-
ly relevant to the last two attitudes. People wanted to forget about Poles who
supported the Nazis in their plan of the “Final Solution” and tarnished the repu-
tation of the national community. Most of all, they wanted to erase the memory
of their own passivity, sometimes indifferent, sometimes reluctant, sometimes
even hostile, which collided with the heroic and martyred vision of the war.
The role of passive bystanders in the extermination of the people that Poles
had shared their land with for hundreds of years, Krystyna Kersten wrote,
“caused anxiety which was not always realised”.111 Part of this anxiety was also
the ballast of the difficult Polish-Jewish past. The Holocaust and the Jewish
question inevitably reminded Poles about it. Hence, they were covered with si-
lence and became a taboo and, as a result, were forgotten. The reason for this
collective amnesia was the “particularly disturbing nature of what demanded to
be remembered” and, at the same time, “mental numbness and sense of guilt.”112
In the house of the deceased, anything that can cause pain is not mentioned, par-
ticularly anything that could cast a shadow on the living.
Both the anxiety and sense of guilt were additionally strengthened by the
fact that Poles had been involved in a kind of corruption related to the Holo-
caust.113 As a result of the Nazi extermination policy, properties of 3 million
murdered Jews, provided they had not been seized by the Germans, became
Polish property. Former Jewish homes, land, factories, shops, workshops, syna-
gogue buildings and everyday objects changed hands. Although Poles did not
deprive Jews of their ownership, they became beneficiaries of historical injustice
and owners of goods that had been paid for with Jewish suffering. Those who
came into possession of properties of their murdered neighbours, however, must
have felt discomfort. Thus, the new proprietors desperately wanted to forget
about the former owners and about what had happened to them.
In the first years after the war, the Holocaust survivors returning to their
hometowns were rarely welcomed with joy or sympathy, but rather with confu-
sion and reluctance.114 Their homes, workshops, shops and other material goods
already had new owners who were not always willing to go back to the pre-war
status quo. Sometimes the attempts to defend oneself against the restitution and
solve the problem of financial demands ended in blackmails, assaults or kill-
ings.115 During the war, there were already cases of denouncing and killing the
hiding Jews in order to “anticipate” the necessity of giving their properties back
after the war. However, the desire to maintain Jewish properties cannot fully
explain the phenomenon of postwar violence against the Holocaust survivors.
Neither can it explain the atmosphere of reluctance surrounding Jews after the
war.
116 See: J. Adelson, W Polsce zwanej Ludową, [in:] Najnowsze dzieje Żydów w Polsce,
J. Tomaszewski (red.), Warszawa 1993, p. 401; I. Gutman, Żydzi w Polsce po II wojnie
światowej – Akcja kalumnii i zabójstw, “Przegląd Prasy Zagranicznej” 1986, no 2,
p. 62; N. Aleksiun, Ruch syjonistyczny wobec systemu rządów w Polsce w latach 1944-
1948, [in:] Komunizm. Ideologia, system, ludzie, T. Szarota (Ed.), Warszawa 2001,
p. 242; D. Engel, Patterns of Anti-Jewish Violence in Poland, 1944-1946, Yad Vashem
Studies” 1998, no. 26, p. 43-47; J. Michlic, Anti-Jewish Violence in Poland 1918-1938
and 1945-1947, “Polin” 2000, t. 13, p. 34-61; J. T. Gross, Strach…, p.57-58.
117 “Train campaigns” were conducted mostly by National Armed Forces. Around 200
Jews, repatriates from the Soviet Union, died as a result of the campaign. Jews were
caught and drawn out of a train and then shot – only on the basis of their origin. See:
J. Adelson, W Polsce zwanej…, p. 393.
118 See: A. Cichopek, Pogrom Żydów w Krakowie 11 sierpnia 1945 r., Warszawa 2000;
J. T. Gross, Fear…
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 43
119 There were rumours in Poland about millions of Jewish repatriates returning from the
Soviet Union to supply the communist movement and seize power, which was already
believed to lie in Jewish hands. For more on rumours and gossip and their influence on
social atmosphere in Poland in the Stalinist era, See: D. Jarosz, M. Pasztor, W krzywym
zwierciadle. Polityka władz komunistycznych w Polsce w świetle plotek i pogłosek z lat
1949-56, Warszawa 1995.
120 K. Kersten, op. cit., p. 85.
121 See: A. Cała, Przekleństwo pamięci..., p. 195-198.
122 See: K. Kersten, op. cit., p. 79-80; A. Cała, Kształtowanie się polskiej i żydowskiej...,
167-172.
44 Chapter I
between Poles and Jews were still alive. In addition, it was relatively easy to
displace aggression to them because of their status as victims. Victims, as Ale-
ksander Smolar noted, almost always arouse suspicion that they are not without
fault and “have their part in the crime”.123 Connecting Jews with any kind of evil
– blood libel, communism or anything else – was of great importance for Poles
as the bystanders of the Holocaust. This process helped rationalise and justify
Polish indifference towards (or even complicity in) the Holocaust, relieve dis-
comfort and forget about its original cause.
Michael Steinlauf also provided a psychological interpretation of aggression
and aversion towards the Holocaust survivors. He referred to the findings of the
psychiatrist and historian Robert Jay Lifton who had conducted research on the
effects of trauma related to witnessing death and destruction on a mass scale. In
his work on this subject, titled “The Broken Connection”, Lifton listed a few
characteristic “core themes” or “struggles” of the survivors of massive death
trauma.124 The first of these is what Lifton called the “Death Imprint”125 and de-
scribed as the “radical intrusion of an image-feeling of threat or end to life”.
What Lifton terms “Death Guilt” arises “from the encounter with a situation on
which the possibilities for physical or even psychic response are nonexistent”126
and “one feels responsible for what one has not done, for what one has not felt,
and above all for the gap between that physical and psychic inactivation and
what one felt called upon (by the beginning image formation) to do and feel”.
According to Robert J. Lifton, “the heart of the traumatic syndrome” is
“psychic numbing”. This condition, often involuntary and unconscious, dimin-
ishes “the capacity to feel, that is, to witness”. It includes denial and the strategy
of “interruption of identification” with the victim (“I see you dying but I’m not
related to you or to your death”127). Psychic numbing
is characteristically accompanied by anger, rage and violence through which
the survivor attempts to regain some sense of vitality. It is also accompanied by
a symptom that Freud first noted and termed the “repetition compulsion”. Una-
ble fully to witness the traumatic experience, the survivor obsessively repeats
images and even behaviour associated with it. Ultimately the survivor struggles
toward what Lifton calls “formulation”, a restructuring of the psyche, its values
and symbols, that includes the traumatic image. This process ideally ends in
psychic and moral renewal; its goal is “emancipation from the bondage to the
diseased.”128 But what happens if the feeling is blocked?129
128 About the Freudian “repetition-compulsion” See: S. Freud, Beyond the Pleasure Princi-
ple, Broadview Press, 2011 p. 59-65, 74-77.
129 M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead..., p.57
130 See: M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead..., p.58
131 M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead..., p.60
46 Chapter I
feeling of harm. The new political situation hindered the process of getting over
the trauma of witnessing the Holocaust and thwarted mental recovery. It also
generated hopelessness and frustration resulting in aggression that was not di-
rected at those who were in fact to blame for the situation of Polish society, but
channelled into Jews as the substitute scapegoats, who also reminded Poles
about the death guilt and made it impossible to suppress.132 “With no hope of
healing”133, Poles could only change from the passive victimised into active vic-
timisers.
As Michael Steinlauf notes, the “death guilt” in Poland must have been all
the more powerful than Lifton’s paradigm would suggest, “for being unrelated
[for the most part] to any actual transgression.... As witnesses, Poles had com-
mitted no crime, there was nothing to expiate – yet Polish history had loaded the
act of witnessing the Holocaust to spring a psychological and moral trap from
which there was no apparent exit. The unacceptable, unmasterable guilt could
only be denied and repressed, thereafter to erupt into history in particularly dis-
torted forms....” What is more, Steinlauf writes, “the guilt-driven hostility and
violence that greeted Jews in postwar Poland resulted in (...) the creation of even
more guilt.”134
Lifton’s theory, analysed by Michael Steinlauf, and its application to the sit-
uation in postwar Poland is thus an attempt to explain the violence (actions)
against Jews and resentments (feelings) towards them, rooted in Polish experi-
ence and witnessing of the Holocaust. According to this theory, hatred and ag-
gression towards Jews are evoked by a repressed sense of guilt.135 As Lifton pre-
sents the causes and circumstances of repressing information, which are uncom-
fortable for the collective psyche, his theory can also explain the phenomenon of
collective forgetting about Jews and the Holocaust in Poland after 1945. It can
132 At one of the conferences about the Holocaust, Michael Steinlauf expressed an opinion
that the presence of even a few Jews in Poland was a “living pang of conscience, which
made it difficult to deaden the guilt” He also raised a question whether the aggression
against Jews should not be interpreted as “an outburst of suppressed guilt directed (...)
exactly against supposed accusers?”. See: M. Steinlauf, Refleksje nad cieniem Holo-
kaustu..., p. 93.
133 M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead..., p.60
134 See: M. Steinlauf, Bondage to the Dead, p. 61
135 Agnes Heller came to similar conclusions. Referring to postwar Hungary, she wrote:
“Until then, only the Nazis had manifested hatred against Jews, while the rest were in-
different. But then some other, almost irrational hatred appeared, driven by seemingly
simple motives: people did not want to give houses, flats and furniture, etc., back to
Jews. However, this hatred resulted in fact from suppression, and the stronger it was,
the more aggression and aversion it generated”. See: A. Heller, Pamięć i zapominanie.
O sensie i braku sensu, “Przegląd Polityczny” 2001, no 52/53, p. 25.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 47
thus be used as a supplement to what has already been said about the reasons
and determinants of this particular process of collective amnesia. However,
there is one reason that has not been mentioned yet.
Almost 3 million Polish Jews were killed in the Holocaust, 90% of whom
had lived in Poland before the war. The dream of Polish nationalists for a na-
tional state (and they were not alone in having this dream) came true as, in the
postwar landscape, no national minorities were to be found. Although the statis-
tics showed that some representatives of ethnic minorities lived there, postwar
Poland was no longer the multinational homeland of many ethnic groups. Few
Jews decided to stay in Poland and even they soon left the country during suc-
cessive emigration waves caused by the anti-Semitic atmosphere and persecu-
tions. Among those who left were also Jews who could not imagine living “in a
cemetery.”136 According to Marcin Kula, Poland lacked “the elementary medi-
um of memory, which is the community itself as a potential object of memories
and narratives.”137 One should add that community as a subject of memories and
narratives was also missing. There was no Jewish community of memory – it
had either been destroyed or left Poland.
Who does not survive has no history, Agnes Heller says, and the majority of
Polish Jews did not survive.138 There were others writing and speaking of their
history and, for some reason, their aim was not to provide a comprehensive and
possibly objective narrative of the life of the Jewish community in Poland and,
in particular, about how it was all ended by the Holocaust. It was simply much
easier to make this subject disappear in the war hell experienced by Poles and to
reinterpret or ignore the uncomfortable topic of the Holocaust. In other words, it
was easier to compose a new and comfortable story of the Shoah. This story had
an advantage of healing sick souls, soothing consciences, overcoming “moral
anxiety”, alleviating the difficult past and enabling and supporting its forgetting.
Thus, let us shift from the analysis of common memory to official memory
and to the subject of forgetting about the Holocaust propagated in the People’s
Republic of Poland. There were two kinds of official lies: the falsity of silence
and the falsity of words and deeds.139
136 For more on the postwar waves of Jewish emigration from Poland and their reasons for
departing, see: np. M. Pisarski, Emigracja Żydów z Polski w latach 1945-1951, [in:]
Studia z dziejów i kultury Żydów w Polsce po 1945 roku, J. Tomaszewski (Ed.), War-
szawa 1997, p. 13-83; See: także B. Szaynok, Z historią i Moskwą w tle. Polska a Izrael
1944–1968, Warszawa 2007.
137 M. Kula, op. cit., p. 53.
138 A. Heller, op. cit., p. 25.
139 K. Kersten, J. Szapiro, op. cit., p. 281.
48 Chapter I
140 See: J. Michlic, Holokaust i wczesne lata powojenne w świadomości Polaków, “Mi-
drasz” 2005, no 1, p. 27-36; See: także D. Libionka, Antysemityzm i zagłada na łamach
prasy w Polsce w latach 1945-1946, [in:] Polska 1944/45-1989. Studia i Materiały,
Warszawa 1997, p. 151-190; J. Andrzejewski (Ed.), Martwa fala. Zbiór artykułów
o antysemityzmie, Warszawa 1947.
141 Considering the production year (1948), Aleksander Ford’s film “Ulica graniczna” (re-
leased 1949) should be perceived as a daring representation of the Holocaust and, in
particular, of the Polish-Jewish relations during the occupation. The movie provoked
considerable controversy and sparked off a debate in the media at the time. See: P. Lit-
ka, Polacy i Żydzi w Ulicy Granicznej, “Kwartalnik Filmowy” 2000, no 29-30, p. 60-74.
142 See: A. Brodzka-Wald, D. Krawczyńska, J. Leociak, Literatura polska wobec Zagłady,
Warszawa 2000; N. Gross, Poeci i Szoa: obraz zagłady Żydów w poezji polskiej, So-
snowiec 1993; I. Maciejewska (Ed.), Męczeństwo i zagłada Żydów w zapisach literatury
polskiej, Warszawa 1988; W. Panas, Pismo i rana. Szkice o problematyce żydowskiej
w literaturze polskiej, Lublin 1996;
143 See: A. Radziwiłł, The Teaching of the History of the Jews in Secondary Schools in the
Polish People’s Republic, 1949-1988, “Polin” 1989, t. 4, p. 413-414.
144 See: L. Dobroszycki, Polska historiografia na temat Zagłady: przegląd literatury
i próba syntezy, [in:] Holocaust z perspektywy półwiecza. Pięćdziesiąta rocznica Po-
wstania w Getcie Warszawskim. Materiały z konferencji zorganizowanej przez Żydow-
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 49
the Holocaust resulted mainly from the fact that the official and binding inter-
pretation of the wartime was only in its initial phase. Therefore, it was a period
of active and private memory, not yet monopolised by ideological state dis-
course.
Undoubtedly, Jewish historians and their institutions published the most ma-
terial about the Holocaust in postwar Poland. It is enough to say that one of the
first institutions founded by the Holocaust survivors was the Central Jewish His-
torical Commission. It was established in August 1944 in the liberated Lublin,
and its main task was documenting German crimes against Jews and obtaining
accounts related to the Holocaust and preparing them for print. Between 1945
and 1946, the Central Jewish Historical Commission established regional offices
in bigger cities while correspondents worked in smaller towns.145 The Holocaust
survivors, Natalia Aleksiun writes, considered documenting and publicising the
fate of Polish Jews during the war to be their obligation. Their sense of mission
was additionally strengthened by the fear that otherwise the Holocaust would be
forgotten or incorporated into the general history of Poland.146 Their concerns
and anticipations proved to be fully justified.
While Jewish historians initiated the process of registering and popularising
knowledge of what had happened to Jews during the war, it was important for
all Jews to maintain the memory of their deceased relatives and the Jewish
community that used to live in Poland. Keeping these memories alive was a
moral imperative for the Jewish survivors. Therefore, both individuals and insti-
tutions took steps to do so.147 It was possible for Jewish historians to conduct
research connected with documenting the Holocaust and to establish and run
relevant institutions, because the first years after the war brought an atmosphere
that was favourable for the Jewish minority.
Already in the Manifesto of the Polish Committee of National Liberation,
the new Polish government promised to help Jews rebuild their lives, and to
ski Instytut Historyczny w dniach 29-31 marca 1993, D. Grinberg, P. Szapiro (red.),
Warszawa 1993, p. 177-189; N. Aleksiun, Historiografia na temat Zagłady i stosunków
polsko-żydowskich w okresie drugiej wojny światowej, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i mate-
riały” 2005, no 1, p. 32-52; J. Tomaszewski, Historiografia polska o Zagładzie, “Biule-
tyn Żydowskiego Instytutu Historycznego” 2000, no 2.
145 See: M. Horn, Działalność naukowa i wydawnicza Centralnej Żydowskiej Komisji Hi-
storycznej przy CKŻPwP i Żydowskiego Instytutu Historycznego w Polsce w latach
1945-1950 (w czterdziestolecie powstania ŻIH), “Biuletyn Żydowskiego Instytutu Hi-
storycznego” 1985, no 1-2, p. 123-132.
146 See: N. Aleksiun, O konstruowaniu historii Żydów polskich, [in:] PRL. Trwanie
i zmiana, D. Stola, M. Zaremba (Eds.), Warszawa 2003, p. 338.
147 See: N. Aleksiun, O konstruowaniu..., p. 333-349.
50 Chapter I
provide “legal and actual equality”.148 Initially, there were favourable conditions
in postwar Poland for the Jewish community to revive itself. Some historians
even say that this was the time – although short – of Jewish national autonomy
in Poland. Jews who decided to stay in Poland made a successful attempt to re-
establish Jewish political parties and reconstruct Jewish education. The Central
Committee of Polish Jews (Polish: Centralny Komitet Żydów; CKŻP) was also
brought to life. It was intended to be a political representation of Jews in Poland
and abroad and to coordinate aid and social security for the Holocaust survivors.
The main statutory task of the Committee was the reconstruction of Jewish life
in Poland.149
In addition, Jewish Religious Congregations worked to organise Jewish re-
ligious life. Between 1945 and 1948, diverse cultural Jewish associations were
in operation; the National Jewish Theatre functioned in Warsaw, and a publish-
ing house, “Dos Naje Lebn”, was based in Lower Silesia. Jewish press and Jew-
ish literature were published. The Jewish Press Agency delivered information
about Jewish life in Poland and abroad. A Jewish cooperative was developing
and administration jobs were available for Jews.150
Where did this freedom to reanimate Jewish life and to self-organise result
from? Why did the state guarantee it? Aleksander Smolar is undoubtedly right to
note that this goodwill of the authorities, quite obvious at the beginning of the
People’s Republic of Poland, should be interpreted as pragmatism rather than
empathy.151 The authorities hoped for Jewish support and loyalty and, as a con-
sequence, for the sympathy of the West, while some Jews believed that com-
munism, based on the idea of internationalism and equality, would protect them
from anti-Semitism. Therefore, Jewish support for communism did not always
stem from love for the idea but also from pragmatic judgment of the situation
and the balance of gains and losses. Jews hoped that a long life for communism
would give them a chance to live their lives and provide them with a guarantee
of safety. Hence, they supported and swelled the ranks of the communist gov-
ernment.152
153 See: A. Grabski, G. Berendt, Między emigracja a trwaniem. Syjoniści i komuniści ży-
dowscy w Polsce po Holocauście, Warszawa 2003, p. 78-79.
154 Dariusz Stola observed an organic relationship between anti-Semitism, anti-communism
and anti-Sovietism; see: D. Stola, Kampania antysyjonistyczna w Polsce 1967-1968,
Warszawa 2000, p. 23.
155 See: J. E. Young, The Texture of Memory. Holocaust Memorials and Meaning, Yale
University Press 1993, p. 155-185.
52 Chapter I
1948, and to move it into the Polish pavilion.156 Alongside the increasing Stalin-
isation of the country, Jewish parties disappeared from the political scene. They
were dissolved on the wave of the ideological offensive launched against the
“right-wing and nationalist deviation” and Zionism. Manifests of these attitudes
were found in Jewish parties and institutions. The campaign was aimed mostly
at Jewish Zionists and the Bund (General Jewish Labour Bund in Poland) and it
was run mostly by governmentally supported Jewish communists from the Fac-
tion of Polish Workers' Party, who dominated the Central Committee of Polish
Jews. In 1948, its members declared their willingness to act “unanimously” and
in 1949, after expelling the opposition and leaving Socialist International, the
Bund merged with the Polish United Workers' Party. Additionally, the Ministry
of Public Administration established deadlines for elimination of Zionist parties.
As a result, at the beginning of 1950, there was no Jewish party in opposition to
the Polish United Workers' Party.157
The change of the official policy on Jews reached even further. All Jewish
youth organisations directly or indirectly associated with political parties were
liquidated. Jewish schools, hospitals, social security and worker cooperatives
became nationalised. Jewish history was eliminated from the curriculum of Jew-
ish schools. The Central Committee of Polish Jews was transformed into the So-
cio-Cultural Association of Jews in Poland, and became absolutely controlled by
the state. It was the only Jewish organisation until 1989 to which Związek
Religijny Wyznania Mojżeszowego (former Jewish Religious Congregations)
was subordinated. As Alina Cała and Helena Datner-Śpiewak noted, “Jewish
politics, defined as the representation of interests of diverse Jewish groups,
ceased to exist.”158
The Polish communist government policy relating to Jews from 1948-1953
followed, corresponded with and resulted from the actions undertaken by the
Soviet Union and other countries of the Eastern Bloc. Starting from the end of
the 1930s, Joseph Stalin was clearly planning an anti-Jewish crusade, and these
tendencies intensified around 1948. Almost all Jewish institutions were liquidat-
156 See: B. Szaynok, Walka z syjonizmem w Polsce (1948-1953), [in:] Komunizm. Ideolo-
gia, system, ludzie, T. Szarota (red.), Warszawa 2001, p. 260.
157 See: A. Cała, H. Datner-Śpiewak, op. cit., p. 84-90; A. Cała, Mniejszość żydowska, [in:]
Mniejszości narodowe w Polsce. Państwo i społeczeństwo polskie a mniejszości naro-
dowe w okresach przełomów politycznych (1944-1989), P. Madajczyk (red.), Warszawa
1998, p. 263-270; L. Olejnik, Polityka narodowościowa Polski w latach 1944-1960,
Łódź 2003, p. 398-416; A. Grabski, Działalność komunistów…, p. 256-301;
B. Szaynok, Z historią i Moskwą w tle. Polska a Izrael 1944–1968, Warszawa 2007.
158 A. Cała, H. Datner-Śpiewak, op. cit., p. 89; See: także A. Grabski, Działalność komuni-
stów…, p. 304-328.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 53
ture was intended to prove to the Western world that the communist government
cared about Jewish culture and, in general, about Polish Jews. It also allowed the
government to control and infiltrate the Jewish minority.163
For long decades, the topic of Jews and the Holocaust was eliminated from
public discourse and the pages of Polish history. If this subject ever appeared, it
was falsified and deformed. Jews were only mentioned when they were used as
scapegoats during periods of political crises and party reshuffling. So it was dur-
ing the 1953 Polish Thaw in Poland when communists of Jewish origin were
accused of the crimes of the Stalinist period, or in 1956, when “natolińczycy”, a
faction of the communist party, struggled with “puławianie” (another faction)
using anti-Semitic rhetoric. Jews were also made the scapegoats in March 1968
during an apparently anti-Zionist, but in fact anti-Semitic, campaign.
Silence on the subject of Jews and the Holocaust also resulted from the
propagandist slogan about the ultimate national homogeneity of Poland. The
reasons, however, were never analysed. There was no public discussion about
Jews or other ethnic minorities who had lived in Poland before the war, or about
the impoverishment of Polish culture and the emptiness of the ethnic landscape.
This subject simply did not match the vision of an ethnically homogenous coun-
try that was promoted by the government.
Hence, the word “Jew” was continuously avoided. Sometimes it was re-
placed with various periphrases or allusions in order not to invoke the ghost and
to affirm the conviction that the People’s Republic of Poland was an ethnically
homogenous country. However, as Michał Głowiński points out, this silence and
avoidance of the word “Jew” was a result of other factors. One of the reasons
was the experience gained during the occupation period – the awareness of the
danger of being a Jew and calling someone a Jew. Jews who decided to keep
their false “Aryan” identity even after the war knew it very well. Another reason
observed by Głowiński was the government’s desire not to be perceived as
strangers, which was particularly true in the early postwar period. The discourse
about Jews could have undermined the “familiarity” of the new government and
its national character. Jews who were in power even changed their names to
ones that sounded more Polish.164
The silence about Jews and the Holocaust resulted also from the accepted
and popularised communist historiography of the war. The government made
national martyrdom, heroism and anti-fascism the fundament of the memory of
the war. The memory of Polish heroes and victims became the superior memory.
It corresponded with the national demand for commemorating heroism and suf-
fering and it was the perfect cement for the collective identity of the nation. Its
canonical version included acknowledging Poles as the main (if not the only)
victims of the war and illustrating their heroic resistance against the Nazis. The
Nazi victims of other nationalities were ignored, just as Stalin’s victims from
Poland were forced to subside into silence in the name of friendship with the
Soviet Union. For various reasons, they were not suitable for the “political cult
of the fallen” and the murdered. As Robert Traba noted, monopolisation of the
war memory in the People’s Republic of Poland concerned two dimensions: na-
tional and ideological; national, because the focus was only on the Polish na-
tion’s martyrdom, and ideological because the attention was given only to the
suffering inflicted by the Nazi occupiers.165 Anti-fascism was regarded as an at-
titude shared by all Poles during the war and as the ”confession of faith” of eve-
ry Polish citizen after the war. It also defined the Polish reason for state and le-
gitimised communism as the only right antidote to fascism.
The authorities turned to the past to bond with the nation and to find sources
for legitimising their power. War memory was abused, shaped according to
needs and framed into an official and possibly cohesive version. The task was
simple enough as the government took full control of the institutions that were
responsible for memories of the war.166 The government’s aim was to polish na-
tional memory so that the nation could proudly look at it. This goal could only
be achieved at the price of silence and reinterpretation. Some of these covering-
up interventions, e.g. concerning Katyń and other events and persons, resulted
from the need to legitimise power and were committed against the common
memory. However, the silence and reinterpretation regarding Jews and the Hol-
ocaust were a response to the all-national need to forget and in this case, the of-
ficial memory of the war met the social need.
Focusing only on Polish suffering and subjecting Polish historiography to
such a perspective resulted in forgetting about the Holocaust. The forgetting had
different forms and was manifested at different occasions.
First of all, the Holocaust was deprived of its uniqueness. The fact that its
scenario and implementation involved almost exclusively Jews was silenced. In
other words, the Holocaust was not regarded as a very specific event that re-
quired a very special attention.
Secondly, the difference between the occupational situation of Jews and
Poles was blurred and the number of murdered Jews was counted together with
the number of Polish victims. Therefore, Jewish suffering was mixed into the
Polish martyr vision of the occupation period, and the Holocaust – as a solely
Jewish experience – was erased from the pages of Polish history. All of this was
intended to lead to a perception of the Holocaust as something that had hap-
pened to Poles and the propagandistically exaggerated number of war victims
was intended to intensify the sense of suffering and the immensity of war losses.
Thirdly, if the image of the history of the war was dominated by the vision
of the martyred and heroic Polish nation, anything that could contradict this im-
age was eliminated. Thus, indifferent and shameful attitudes of Poles towards
the Holocaust were silenced and the focus was on actions that could ease the
national conscience and suppress moral anxiety. For this purpose, the Righteous
Among the Nations were brought to public attention, while Jews were somehow
made partly responsible for what had happened to them. They were admonished
for their passivity, for lacking the “spirit of resistance” and for collaborating
with the Nazis (e.g. Judenräte). Thus, the authorities attempted to unburden the
conscience of the bystanders by making the victims accomplices. They also de-
liberately did not discuss the subject of the pre-war anti-Semitism but willingly
presented evidence of the alleged Jewish anti-Polonism and their collaboration
with the enemies of Poland.
Fourthly, if the subject of the Holocaust appeared at all, it was described and
discussed through the lens of the accepted ideological interpretation of what had
happened during the war and this was usually the reason to refer to it.167
Different levels of the limited public discourse demonstrate that the process
of forgetting the Holocaust indeed took place as one of the strategies of the offi-
cial policy on war history. The evidence of this can be found in academic litera-
ture and fiction approved for publishing, in history and Polish language text-
books or articles in the official press. A specific historical policy to standardise
monuments and memorials was implemented. For many years, it also embraced
the anniversaries of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, attaching new meanings and
senses to it. What also required forgetting was the anti-Semitic campaign of
1968 and earlier attempts to instrumentally use anti-Jewish resentments. In other
words, the efforts to forget the Holocaust were many-sided and with the use of a
whole spectrum of communication media and “carriers of historical memory.”168
Let us now provide relevant examples.169
nected to the process of forgetting the Holocaust were chosen. These choices are un-
doubtedly incomplete and the considerations presented above do not exhaust the sub-
ject. They only present the most important manifestations of the process of forgetting
the Holocaust between 1945 and 1989 and demonstrate that this process did in fact take
place. The reader can find more detailled and competent analysis here: M. Steinlauf,
Pamięć nieprzyswojona. Polska pamięć Zagłady, Warszawa 2001; I. Irwin-Zarecka,
Neutralizing Memory: The Jew in Contemporary Poland, Transaction Books, New Jer-
sey 1989.
170 On the subject of official memory policy involving former Nazi camps and the disputes
about the memory of the camps in the first years after the war, see: Z. Wóycicka, Prze-
rwana żałoba. Polskie spory wokół pamięci nazistowskich obozów koncentracyjnych
i zagłady 1944-1950, Warszawa 2009.
171 See: Z. Mach, Wstęp, [in:] Europa po Auschwitz, Z. Mach (Ed.), Kraków 1995, p. 10.
58 Chapter I
and hostility towards Germany. With time, as East Germany became one of the
“satellite” countries and the Cold War divided the world in two, the anti-German
blade of the symbolic meaning of Auschwitz was becoming blunt, but the camp
was still used for propaganda against ideological enemies. Between the begin-
ning of 1950s and the end of 1980s, it was the representation of various political
manifestations: under the banner of anti-fascism, anti-imperialism or “the fight
for peace”. The manifestations usually took place on the occasion of anniver-
saries of the outbreak of World War II or the liberation of Auschwitz by the Red
Army (January 1945). These two anniversaries were never commemorated ac-
cording to the historical calendar, but always in April, which was recognised by
the government as the “month of national memory”.
Regardless of the meaning attached to Auschwitz or the purpose it served, it
never ceased to symbolise Polish martyrdom. Certainly, there were periods of
emphasising the universal significance of the place, as well as the international-
ism and ethnic diversity of the victims. However, even then Poles occupied the
leading position, while other nations were mentioned in Polish alphabetical or-
der. Therefore, Jews were mentioned last. There was a consistent silence about
the uniqueness of the Holocaust and the Jewish origin of the vast majority of the
victims, condemned to death as a single ethnic group defined on the basis of the
Nuremberg Laws.
Scholars agree that the origin of the “Polish-national commemorative idi-
om”172 and, at the same time, the symbolic process of “shoving Jews into oblivi-
on”173 began with the building of the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum. It was
created from the initiative of the former inmates of Auschwitz-Birkenau and the
inauguration ceremony was held on 14 June 1947, on the anniversary of the day
when the first transport of inmates arrived in Auschwitz. The commemorations
were dominated by the speeches of the state officials, with Józef Cyrankiewicz,
the then prime minister and the former inmate of the camp, in the foreground. 174
However, the Museum was not legally sanctioned until 2 July 1947, by the
Act of 2 July 1947, on the commemoration of martyrdom of the Polish Nation
and other Nations in Auschwitz. The name of the act itself suggests that “shov-
ing Jews into oblivion” was a fact confirmed by the law. The content of the act
proved as much in that it did not even mention Jews. The first press article la-
belled the former camp area as “the monument of martyrdom of the Polish Na-
tion and other Nations”. The care of the museum was given to the Polish Asso-
172 J. Huener, Auschwitz, Poland, and the Politics of Commemoration 1945-1979, Ohio
University Press, Ohio 2003, p. 147.
173 J. Ch. Szurek, Między historią a pamięcią: polski świadek..., p. 174.
174 See: J. Huener, op. cit., 32-33.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 59
175 Ustawa z dnia 2 lipca 1947r. o upamiętnieniu męczeństwa Narodu Polskiego i innych
Narodów w Oświęcimiu (Dz. U. no 52, poz. 265).
176 See: M. Kucia Auschwitz jako fakt społeczny, Kraków 2005, p. 37-38; 248-249;
T. Zbrzeska, Z historią do milionów, “Pro Memoria” 1997, no 7, p. 96-101.
60 Chapter I
symbolise Jews and it would be hard to disagree, as almost only Jews were
killed with whole families and the three abstract figures probably represented a
family. Additionally, “the different sizes of stones in the initial sculpture sug-
gested children, who could not have been killed as political prisoners, but only
as Jews.”177 This motif however might have as well been a symbolised univer-
salism of all the inmates: adults and children, women and men. However, just
before unveiling it to the public, the monument was changed.178 Instead of the
three figures, a polished square of black marble appeared, divided into four parts
that formed a cross with a triangle in the middle. The triangle in KL Auschwitz
used to symbolise political inmates, thus the monument symbolised their death
and suffering. It distinguished this group and made it a universal symbol of all
the Auschwitz victims. Considering that Poles represented the majority of politi-
cal inmates, one can say that Poles became the symbolic embodiment of all peo-
ple who died or were murdered in Auschwitz. Unlike Poles, Jews were usually
not registered at all because they were led directly to the gas chambers. If they
ever had the “privilege” of registration and their death sentence was postponed,
they were marked with the Star of David. The metaphorical language of the
monument did not mention it and thus ignored the main victims of the camp.
The inscription also disregarded Jews. 19 plaques read in as many different
languages: “Four million/ people suffered/ and died here/ at the hands/ of the
Nazi/ murderers/ between the years/ 1940 and 1945.”Admittedly, two plaques
included the text translated into Hebrew and Yiddish. However, another inscrip-
tion, on the main plaque, next to the “Cross of Grunewald” and below the trian-
gle, was only in Polish and its text also disregarded Jews. It read: “The Council
of State of the People’s Republic of Poland awarded the "Heroes of Auschwitz,
who suffered death here/ fighting against the Nazi genocide/ for freedom and
human dignity/ for peace and brotherhood of nations” with the First Class Order
of the Cross of Grunewald.179
The Prime Minister Józef Cyrankiewicz, who participated in the unveiling
ceremony of the monument along with the Minister of the Interior Mieczysław
Moczar, Deputy Minister for Culture Kazimierz Rusinek and other state digni-
taries, also said nothing about Jews. In his long speech, the Prime Minister listed
177 J. E. Young, The Texture of Memory. Holocaust Memorials and Meaning, New Haven
and London 1993, p. 139-141.
178 James E. Young notes “While some snapshots show evidence that the figures did stand
as planned for one week, just before the dedication itself, the carved stones were re-
placed by a polished square of black marble with a triangle in the middle, with no offi-
cial explanation for this change to this day.” See: J. E. Young, op. cit., p.141.
179 Citation after B. Lessaer, Auschwitz jako rzeczywistość przedstawiona, “Bez Dogmatu”
1996, no 30, p. 12.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 61
many nationalities of the camp victims, but the Jewish one he consistently omit-
ted.180 His speech provoked outrage from Robert Weiss, the chairman of the In-
ternational Auschwitz Committee, and not only him. The context of these events
inspired Michał Borwicz to write and disseminate in France a small brochure
titled: “Les chambres à gaz déjudaïsées” (The de-Jewified Gas Chambers)181.
Both monument inscriptions need a commentary as they included false,
propagandist presumptions, which existed and were spread almost till the end of
the People’s Republic of Poland, and their effects on the social consciousness of
Poles have been significant.
First, the inscriptions included clear untruth – the number of victims was
overestimated. The number of 4 million victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau, consid-
ered to be valid, was disseminated in all the countries of the Soviet Bloc and it
was disproved only in the late 1980s. Additionally, the plaques in 19 different
languages were intended to suggest that the 4 million victims were people of
different nationalities. The problem was that nationality of the victims was
equated with their citizenship and no attention was paid to the fact that the vast
majority of these people had died because they had been Jewish, not French,
Greek or Hungarian. Clearly, such a manoeuvre served propagandist purposes. It
well suited the internalisation of the symbolic meaning of Auschwitz as the In-
ternational Monument of the Victims of Fascism.182 However, the truth of the
main victims of Auschwitz, sentenced to death because of their origin, was di-
luted and falsified.
The overestimated number of the victims implied that the number of mur-
dered Poles was also higher. This, however, did not matter much; a more im-
portant fact was that the number of murdered Jews was included in the register
of Polish victims. The figure of 6 million Poles murdered during the war, which
was disseminated by the communist government, is the best evidence. Of
course, the Polish Jews were Polish citizens. However, counting them as Polish
victims was dictated by the desire to magnify the enormity of Polish martyrdom
and led to the process of blurring the singular horror of the Holocaust.
The inscription carved on the main plaque of the monument highlighted the
heroism of the victims and only mentions the heroes of the camp resistance
movement – mostly communists and socialists. Therefore, it completely disre-
garded Jews and other victims who occasionally fought for dignity, but mainly
180 For more on the speech of the Prime Minister Józef Cyrankiewicz and generally on the
monument unveiling ceremony, see: J. Huener, op. cit., p. 165.
181 The brochure was mentioned by Jean-Charles Szurek. See: J. Ch. Szurek, Między his-
torią a pamięcią: polski świadek..., p. 177.
182 See: Z. Mach, Czym jest Auschwitz dla Polaków?, [in:] Y. Doosry (ed.), Representa-
tions of Auschwitz, Kraków 1995, p. 21.
62 Chapter I
for survival. Victims of the gas chambers, Stanisław Krajewski aptly observes,
did not fight for anything, even for survival, because they did not even have a
chance to do so. The inscription on the monument, which was situated next to
the crematoria, completely ignored them – although Jews were the ones who
deserved commemoration in this special place. According to Krajewski, the in-
scription would make sense only if “it regarded only the members of the camp
resistance movement – not all the victims of gas chambers”. Napis w zapro-
ponowanym brzmieniu miałby zdaniem Krajewskiego sens jedynie wówczas,
gdyby założyć, “że mowa jest nie o zagazowanych, nie o wszystkich ofiarach,
ale wyłącznie o uczestnikach obozowego ruchu oporu”183.
The communist interpretation of the history of KL Auschwitz-Birkenau
(Polish: Oświęcim-Brzezinka) was binding almost to the end of the People’s Re-
public of Poland. Regardless of the attempts to attach the symbol of heroism and
martyrdom of many nations to this place, in Poland, Auschwitz symbolised the
heroism and martyrdom of Poles184 and, only later, of other nations. It definitely
was not interpreted as the symbol of the extermination of Jews as an ethnic
group sentenced to annihilation by the Nazis – this historical fact had been
shrouded in a veil of silence. In other words, as Tomasz Goban-Klas notes, by
saying “Four million people suffered and died here”, the authorities covered up
the truth: the fact that the majority of the victims, nine out of each ten, were
Jews.185
Considering what has been already said, the campaign launched in 1967
against encyclopaedists should not surprise anyone: it was simply a consequence
of the tendencies to glorify Polish martyrdom and to forget about the Holocaust.
It was also an element of the whole “anti-Zionist” campaign, which was at its
most intensive in 1968, but started about two months after the unveiling of the
Monument to the Victims of Fascism in Birkenau.
The first signals of the attack on the encyclopaedists, that is, the members of
the editorial staff of the Great Universal Encyclopaedia (WEP) by the State Ac-
ademic Publishing House (PWN), were already evident in June 1967.186 Veter-
ans associated with the Society of Fighters for Freedom and Democracy
(ZBoWiD) discussed the article titled “Hitlerite concentration camps” (Obozy
187 The article: “obozy koncentracyjne hitlerowskie” [in:] Wielka Encyklopedia Powszech-
na, Warszawa 1966, t. 8, p. 87-89. See: także P. Skwieciński, Encyklopedyści ’68, “Res
Publica” 1999, no 1, p. 78.
188 See: P. Skwieciński, op. cit., p. 77; P. Osęka, Encyklopedyści, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 6-7
III 1998, p. 30.
189 See: K. Lesiakowski, Mieczysław Moczar “Mietek”. Biografia polityczna, Warszawa
1998.
64 Chapter I
lated into several languages and made into a film.190 Without going into details
of the phenomena of the popularity of Mieczysław Moczar and his partisans, it
is enough to say that their environment felt predestined to fulfil the role of the
guards of the official memory of World War II. This memory was based on mar-
tyred and heroic motifs and presented Poles as the nation that endured the great-
est pain, suffered the greatest number of deaths and displayed the greatest brav-
ery. Partisans were determined to defend such an image and not to let anyone
belittle or defame it.
Coming back to the encyclopaedists case: on July 17, 1967, the Ministry of
the Interior sent an “Information about the mistakes found in the Great Univer-
sal Encyclopaedia” to the Central Committee of the Polish United Workers' Par-
ty and the Ministry of Justice. In their letter, the Ministry noted that “the content
of the article is similar to the propagandist reasoning of Zionist groups and
Western nationalists.” They also made charges relating to the prevailing histori-
ography, which had allegedly researched the murders of Jews rather than
Poles.191 Most importantly, the editorial board members were accused of the
“unjustified” distinction between concentration camps and extermination camps
and of giving the figure of 5.7 million Jews killed in the latter (99% of all the
deceased). Secondly, the article lacked the figures for Poles who had died or
been murdered in camps, which allegedly implied that only Jews had died in
German camps. Thirdly, the editors were accused of providing the information
that all death camps had been located “on Polish soil”, thus accusing Poles of
complicity in the Holocaust.192
In other words, as Marcin Zaremba rightly observed, “the authors’ crime
was to question the stereotype” that Poles had suffered the most during the war,
they were the “Christ of Nations” and they should yield their victory palm of
martyrdom.”193
By violating one of the fundaments of national Messianism and uncon-
sciously getting involved in rivalry for the precedence in suffering, the editors of
the Great Universal Encyclopaedia exposed themselves to the negative response
of the authorities. At the end of July 1967, a special commission of the Central
Committee of the Polish United Workers' Party was appointed. Its task was to
explain the crime committed by the PWN editors. A separate investigation was
190 See: M. Moczar, Barwy walki, Warszawa 1961; Film adaptation with the same title,
directed by Jerzy Passendorfer, had its premiere in 1964.
191 Citation after: P. Osęka, M. Zaremba, Wojna po wojnie, czyli polskie reperkusje wojny
sześciodniowej, [in:] Polska 1944/45-1989. Studia i materiały, Warszawa 1999, p. 231.
192 See: P. Osęka, Encyklopedyści..., p. 30.
193 M. Zaremba, Komunizm, legitymizacja, nacjonalizm. Nacjonalistyczna legitymizacja
władzy komunistycznej w Polsce, Warszawa 2001, p. 332.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 65
also conducted by the Regional Prosecutor’s Office in Warsaw and the “party
group of the V Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs” carefully ana-
lysed the content of the VIII volume of the encyclopaedia.194 At the same time,
the press started a campaign against the encyclopaedists, initiated by Władysław
Machejk’s article Smutno mi Boże... (I’m sad, God: the title of a famous Polish
poem by Juliusz Słowacki) in the weekly publication, “Życie Literackie”.195
The commission finished their investigation in mid-October 1967. As a re-
sult of their decision, Leon Marszałek, the chief editor of the Encyclopaedias
and Dictionaries Team, was officially reprimanded, but none of the employees
were dismissed.196 The commission was satisfied with highlighting “the lack of
political sensitivity of the editorial board” and recommending the creation of a
proper supplement to the VIII volume that would correct the existing “distor-
tions”. Considering the intensity of the campaign launched against the encyclo-
paedists and the circumstances of the case, it was an “extraordinarily gentle
move”, Piotr Osęka comments.197 This move, however, was also only tempo-
rary. In 1968, on the crest of the wave of the anti-Semitic campaign, the case of
the encyclopaedists was reopened. This time the investigation was pursued un-
der the auspices of the Ministry of Education and Higher Education, and its task
was to “examine the entire situation regarding the personnel of the State Aca-
demic Publishing House (PWN).198 The press campaign against the encyclopae-
dists was initiated by Tadeusz Kur in “Prawo i Życie” weekly.199
Alongside the work of the commission and the accusatory press articles, all
the prior charges against the editorial board were repeated and the list was even
extended. Their common denominator was that the editors devoted too much
space to Jewish martyrdom and Jews in general and too little to Poles and their
suffering. The responsibility for this matter was attributed to the Jews employed
by PWN, whose names were revealed with alacrity. In this way, the authorities
found a way to deal with the ideological enemies they had been trying to seize
for some time.200
204 For more on the events named March 1968, see: L. Cooper, In the Shadow of Polish
Eagle. The Poles, the Holocaust and Beyond, Palgrave New York 2000, p. 206-224.
205 A. Michnik, Sakrament byka, “Krytyka. Kwartalnik Polityczny” 1988, no 28-29,
p. 24-25.
206 See: M. Głowiński, Nowomowa po polsku, Warszawa 1990, p. 63-68.
207 This phrase was used by Dariusz Stola. See: D. Stola, op. cit., p. 148.
68 Chapter I
and “enemy models” but also ready-made patterns of conduct for individuals
and institutions.208.
Clearly, the anti-Semitic campaign, as well as other events termed ‘March
‘68’, were not limited to one month or even one year. The symbolism and con-
ventionality of the term seem obvious. March was a culmination of the prevail-
ing tendencies and processes and its consequences were perceptible for years. In
other words, it was rooted in the past and influenced the future. It is important to
consider it in the context of the anti-Semitic campaign, which did intensify in
the spring of 1968, but had already started in 1967 after the Six-Day War, which
was won by Israel. In addition, March ‘68 had not been the first time that the
government openly used anti-Semitic rhetoric. It had already happened in 1956
during the crisis in the Polish United Workers' Party.209 However, while Jews
were then accused of having co-created and supported the system in its Stalinist
version, in 1968 they were accused of contesting it.
If we attempted to generalise and compare these two cases of an instrumen-
tal use of anti-Semitism, we may come to conclusion that they both took place in
moments of political crisis.
During the anti-Semitic campaign, symbolically inaugurated by Władysław
Gomułka’s speech of 1967, when he said his famous words about a “fifth col-
umn” operating in Poland, no one openly said anything about who was this
campaign’s target.210 The sad and obvious truth was camouflaged by speaking of
“Zionists”. There is no doubt, however, that in fact it was about Jews and those
who were recognised as Jews by the government. This semantic manipulation
was a protective shield against accusations of anti-Semitism, which did not fit
the idea of internationalism. The concealment was however superficial enough
to be comprehensible. Even if the meaning of the word “Zionism” and “Zionist”
was not known for all Poles, which the famous transparent “Zionist to Siam!”
[in Polish, two words are homonyms] clearly demonstrated, the majority must
have intuitively guessed that “Zionist” in fact meant “Jew”. It was a very com-
fortable substitution: “everyone knew what and who it was about but nothing
was called by its real name.”211
As has been already said, the main forum of the anti-Semitic campaign or-
ganised under the auspices of the state was the press, and its main weapons were
words.
208 See: D. Stola, op. cit., p. 148-149; J. Jedlicki, Organizowanie nienawiści..., p. 64-65.
209 See: P. Machcewicz, Polski rok 1956, Warszawa 1993, p. 216-234.
210 See: D. Stola, op. cit., p. 40-41.
211 J. Jedlicki, Organizowanie nienawiści, [in:] Źle urodzeni czyli o doświadczeniu histo-
rycznym. Scripta i postscripta, Londyn – Warszawa 1993, p. 62.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 69
Thus, Dariusz Stola’s words were not unjustified when he described the “an-
ti-Semitic trend of March 1968” by “a symbolic or verbal pogrom”, whose cul-
mination was not “bloody terror, but mental terror, not a wave of arrests and de-
portations to Siberia, but a wave of layoffs and emigrations.”212 Jerzy Jedlicki
also draws attention to this fact, and the observations of both scholars are con-
firmed by the content of the press articles of the time. They are confirmed by the
anti-Semitic speeches during many rallies, organised at workplaces, but not only
there. They are confirmed by purges of the army and layoffs on the basis of cri-
teria derived from the Nuremberg Laws.213 Finally, they are confirmed by the
last wave of Jewish emigration from Poland.214 Victims of March talked about
this “bloodless pogrom” and the dilemmas that accompanied them in interviews
and memoirs many years later,215 naming them, not without a reason, “a March
shock”.216
An attempt to provide a comprehensive description of all the elements of
this “anti-Zionist” but in fact anti-Semitic campaign in Poland between 1967
and 1968 would require a great deal more time and space than we have at our
disposal. Even the analysis of the press, anti-Zionist rhetoric and the panorama
of roles attached to Jews in the March scenario is a separate topic. For the pur-
pose of this book, there is no need for a detailed reconstruction of the “anti-
Zionist campaign”. Instead, attention should be paid to the elements of the cam-
paign that significantly concerned Polish memory of the Holocaust. 217
As Michael Steinlauf rightly observed, the last years of the 1960s, that is,
the period of the anti-Semitic campaign, may be viewed as “an attempted exor-
cism of the worst demons of Polish national memory.”218 Similarly to other
scholars, Steinlauf states that the campaign “referred to the suppressed guilt
which had been festering in the Polish subconscious.”219 The guilt and discom-
fort was related to the attitude of Poles towards the Holocaust.
220 M. Głowiński, Pismak 1863 i inne szkice o różnych brzydkich rzeczach, Warszawa
1995, p. 64.
221 K. Kersten, op. cit., p. 150.
222 M. Steinlauf, Bondage…, p.85.
223 Citation afterM. Głowiński, Pismak 1863..., p. 67.
224 M. Steinlauf, Bondage…, p.85
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 71
“The aim of the Zionist campaign is to draw the world’s attention away from the
Nazi crimes against Jews by making the Polish nation co-responsible for these
crimes.”225
Walichnowski’s thought was popularised by the press, who published in-
formation about a campaign of slander against Poland, the goal of which was to
make Poles co-responsible for the Jewish tortures and to thus to unburden West
Germany from their responsibility for the Holocaust. This theory was supposed-
ly confirmed by publications and cited statements from the Western press as
well as some literary works, such as Jerzy Kosinski’s Painted Bird, Leon Uris’
Exodus and Mila 18 or Jean Francois Steiner’s Treblinka. According to people
referring to these publications, all of them assigned at least approval and passivi-
ty (if not complicity) towards the Holocaust to Poles and accused them of anti-
Semitism.226 They thus confirmed the conspiracy theory.
According to the discourse of March ‘68, the conspiracy against Poland was
organised by Jews (“Zionists”) and West German “revanchists”, or simply Israel
and West Germany. Therefore, it was seen as an unprecedented alliance of the
victims and executioners from which both sides would benefit. Germans were
believed to have Jewish support in diluting their crimes and responsibility for
the Holocaust while Jews supposedly hoped to receive high war reparations.
This theory was additionally supported by the stereotype of Jewish conspiracy,
disseminated by “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion”. What also made it seem
more reliable was the memory of World War II and the axiom about German
hostility towards Poland, repeated by propaganda for years. What made this sit-
uation different was that two enemies of the Polish nation had allegedly decided
to join forces to Poland’s detriment.
In addition, some events from the past were seen as verification of the alli-
ance of Jews and Germans and provided the answer to the question: how long
did this “breeding season”227 last? In particular, World War II was seen as proof
of the Jewish-German collaboration. The press mentioned the complicity in the
Holocaust of the Judenräte and the Jewish police in ghettos. In other words, the
press suggested that Jews had contributed to the extermination of their own na-
tion and that present events only proved and updated this theory. The extreme
version of the collaboration theory suggested a correlation between the Jews and
the Nazis. In one of his radio speeches, Kazimierz Rusinek, the Deputy Minister
of Culture at the time and an activist of ZBOWiD, said: “it is no secret that
many Hitlerite criminals are in the service of the Israel army”.228 Piotr
Goszczyński, a “Głos Robotniczy” journalist, noted that the Israeli Minister of
Defense, Moshe Dayan, was in fact Otto Skorzenny, “the well known specialist
in murder from Uncle Adolf’s SS”.229 A “Kultura” journalist suggested that Yael
Dajan, Mosze Dajan’s daughter (and a famous writer) resembled “the notorious
Ilse Koch”, a “Nazi war criminal, who had lampshades made of the skin of mur-
dered Jews.230
The Six-Day War was another event that supposedly confirmed the alliance
of victims and executioners and the affinity between Jews and Germans. The
context of the war was used to point out the analogies between the “Zionists”
and the Nazis. Thus, the press reported that both Nazi Germany and Israel were
carrying out imperial policy. Israel, like Germany before, introduced racial crite-
ria and did not avoid openly discriminatory practices in its domestic policy231; it
was also the oppressor and aggressor against the Palestinian and Arab nations.
These similarities were deliberately suggested by the press, who portrayed the
Six-Day War as a “Blitzkrieg”, the Israeli army as occupiers, and the Jewish-
German pact as the “Bonn – Tel-Aviv Axis”.”232
Therefore, the press deliberately used very specific language, which Poles
automatically associated with the period of the Nazi occupation. As a result, the
image of Israelis was to “overlap with the image of the Nazis” or even “both im-
ages [should] be considered the same”.233 Sometimes, the Israeli army was open-
ly called “Nazis” and accused of genocide.
Moshe Dayan became the embodiment of all evil. Dayan was compared to
Adolf Hitler, and the Israeli army he led was called “Dayan’s cohorts.”234 The
World Zionist Congress was described as more nationalist and racist than the
Nazi Party, proud of the Nuremberg laws.235 The fact that the Israeli army had
been trained by German experts and was supposed to be the evidence of the col-
laboration between the two nations. March orators warned against this alliance
of “two militarisms” as particularly dangerous for Poland.236
All the events and discourse from the March plot were doubtlessly intended
to demonstrate the affinity and closeness between Jews and Germans or the
“German-Jewish fraternity.”237 One should not forget, however, that the prime
purpose of this Jewish-German alliance was to pin the co-responsibility for the
Holocaust on Poles and stigmatise them as eternal anti-Semites. Thus, the goal
of the alleged conspiracy against Poland was to disseminate a version of World
War II history in which Poles contributed significantly to the Holocaust and are
anti-Semites. In other words, this aim of the conspiracy (or, “the Zionist anti-
Polish high jinks”238), that is, the imagined coalition of victims and oppressors,
was the main element of the structure of the March plot. It was against this cam-
paign that the Polish United Workers' Party came out and defended the good
name of the nation from the calumnies to which it was subjected. By identifying
“Zionism” with anti-communism and, most of all, anti-Polonism, dignitaries and
propagandists ostentatiously manifested themselves as the defenders of the na-
tion.239
Obviously, the defence was mostly organised by the attack against “Zion-
ists” (Jews) and all those who were intended to be socially perceived as their
allies. It was a campaign of hateful words, but also openly anti-Semitic deeds,
presented as a justified defence. The more eagerly the vilified nation was de-
fended, the more accusations were levelled at Jews and the more sophisticated
they became; the more decisive the actions and the more credible the conspira-
cy. One can see here the classic echo effect: the more aggressive and evident the
official Polish anti-Semitism, the more was written and said about it abroad.
And if more was written and said about it, the conspiracy theory about the anti-
Semitic label attached to Poles was confirmed and strengthened.
Only the proponents of the conspiracy theory benefitted from this vicious
circle because their elucubrations only gained credibility. It is enough to say that
Paweł Jasienica’s speech, apparently giving credence to the anti-Polish conspir-
acy and warning against the consequences of the “world’s belief that we are a
nation of anti-Semites” was greeted with a long ovation during the general as-
sembly of the Warsaw department of the Union of Polish Writers.240
of this. The statement, prepared in 1968, reads: “Every Jew and Pole of Jewish
origin who was in danger during the war could find a helping hand, support and
a hiding place in tens of thousands of Poles: intelligentsia, workers and peasants,
which often required true heroism. In addition, the secret network ‘Zegota’ pro-
vided organised forms of help. This help was widespread.”244 Besides, the con-
tent of many articles inclined to conclude that apart from strict German re-
strictions which hindered the provision of help to Jews, Jews themselves hin-
dered this process: Judenräte and the Jewish Gestapo.
From the perspective of the help given by Poles to Jews, the campaign of
calumnies against the Polish nation seemed even more vile and unjust. There
was even a kind of rhetorical figure in the public discourse, which can be de-
scribed as the “Jewish ingratitude”. The figure was used to suggest that instead
of eternal gratitude and due respect, Jews repaid Poles with nothing but accusa-
tions of passivity, collaboration and anti-Semitism; they falsified the memory of
the war together with Germans by making Poles its anti-heroes and anti-
Semites. It has been already mentioned how the accusations of passivity and col-
laboration were refuted. However, it is worth mentioning how the accusations of
anti-Semitism were handled.
Similar to other charges, the accusation of anti-Semitism was refuted by ac-
cusing “Zionists” of anti-Polonism, allegedly demonstrated by the “anti-Semite”
label assigned to Poles, which was ruining their image in the world outside Po-
land. This was relatively easy to prove during the anti-Semitic campaign: it was
enough to quote the Western press, which openly reported on what was happen-
ing in Poland at the time. There were desperate attempts to identify the word
“Zionism” with some anti-Polish forces or ideology, disregarding its real mean-
ing. One of the observers of the March campaign commented that reading what
had been written in Polish about this anti-Polish plot, one could conclude that
Zionism “did not arise in order to create a national home for Jews in Palestine –
as it is officially stated – but in order to fight against Poland and the Poles.”245
In this way, to quote Michał Głowiński once more, the plot and the language
was found to lie rather than speak of the Holocaust. The topic of the Holocaust
was not treated honestly. Most importantly, the truth about the attitudes of Poles
towards the Holocaust was not faced. Nonetheless, it was during the March
campaign when the most sensitive topics for Poles were actually raised, even if
it was by means of lies and half-truths, and suppressing discomfort and guilt.
246 This paradoxical situation was described by Alix Landgrebe, who wrote: “While collabo-
ration with the Nazis was never discussed as a POLISH problem, the Jews themselves
were being accused of "collaboration" with Poland's enemies. Poles were thus being
turned into victims of the Jews.” A. Landgrebe, Polish National Identity and Deformed
Memory from 1945 to the Present: Mythologizing the Polish Role in the Holocaust,
RFE/RL East European Perspectives 2004, no. 6, p. 3.
247 M. Steinlauf, op.cit, p. 85-86.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 77
the backs of Jews; others claim it had little social support.248 Sociological stud-
ies measuring the attitude of Poles towards different nations, conducted for the
first time in Poland in 1966 by Jerzy Szacki and his team, demonstrated that
75% of respondents declared their dislike of Jews.249 Clearly, it would be a mis-
interpretation to assume that because of their concurrence with the anti-Semitic
campaign, the research findings were a reliable indicator of its public support.
However, according to Alina Cała, they can explain why the actions undertaken
under the auspices of the state and the publically spoken words that accompa-
nied those actions did not spark any widespread protest beyond the intelligentsia
circles.250 State violence and repressions do not explain everything, considering
that on other occasions people would overcome fear and go out to the streets to
protest. Nothing similar happened, although some magazines, such as "Poli-
tyka", refused to participate in this anti-Semitic campaign, and some Polish in-
tellectuals condemned it. The majority, however, were passive and silent specta-
tors, and today it is difficult to judge their attitude.
It is worth returning to the question of Polish society’s acceptance of the
way the Holocaust, and Polish attitudes towards the Holocaust, were presented
in the March campaign. Perhaps Michael Steinlauf was right to note that even if
the “system of belief” of the March campaign “denied facts”, it did not deny
feelings and thus was widely accepted.251 Even if the March discourse included
historical untruth, it helped to alleviate and forget the difficult past and provide
explanations, excuses and rationalisations for the truths that were uncomfortable
for public opinion. It was reassuring to hear about Jewish passivity if one’s own
passivity was troubling.252 It was reassuring to hear about the Judenräte and
Jewish police’s collaboration with the Nazis if the problem of szmalcowniks was
bothering and had been never been publically examined. It was reassuring to
hear about Jewish anti-Polonism if the anti-Semitic heritage of the interwar pe-
riod (not to mention the anti-Semitism during and after the war) had never been
falsified and also even employed by the Communist Party, who had revived it
for their own use.
Each of these interpretations helped people to believe that Poles had no rea-
son to reproach themselves and provided ready-made answers to possible accu-
sations or troubling questions. These answers, by the way, have been used ever
since during various debates on the Polish-Jewish past. They were given in
March for the first time and were met with approval. The aforementioned psy-
chological mechanism is not the only confirmation of that. The support for the
struggle with accusations against the Polish attitudes to the Holocaust is also
indirect evidence of this, evidence that the government received from independ-
ent actors: the Catholic Church, Znak MPs [an association of lay Catholics in
Poland granted several seats in the Polish Parliament (Sejm)] and Polish emigra-
tion from the West.253
The support involved only one question, which can be considered meaning-
ful. All these actors, however separately, defended Poles from the accusations
against them, which collided with their own image and the image of the war,
preserved in the collective memory. They also separately defended national
identity based on this collective memory, thus blocking access to the truth about
themselves and about the Holocaust. Even if there were indeed some publica-
tions or statements abroad that were unfavourable to Poland, it was not an anti-
Polish attack. The attack was fabricated by the government, but they were not
the only ones who needed it. The fight with the imagined enemy, or with the
rhetoric attributed to it, was in fact the fight with the aching past. In particular, it
was the first public attempt since the war to deal with the traumatic memory of
the Holocaust: by falsification and making the past more bearable.
253 See: J. Eisler, op. cit., p. 326-329; D. Stola, op. cit., p. 166.
254 See: B. Szaynok, Konteksty polityczne obchodów powstania w Getcie Warszawskim
w latach 40. i w pierwszej połowie lat 50., “Kwartalnik Historii Żydów” 2004, no 2,
p. 205-215; M. Shore, Język, pamięć i rewolucyjna awangarda. Kształtowanie historii
powstania w getcie warszawskim w latach 1944-1950, “Biuletyn Żydowskiego Instytutu
Historycznego” 1998, p. 44-66; M. Zaremba, Zorganizowane zapominanie o Holokau-
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 79
At the beginning, the tendency was to depict the uprising not as specifically
Jewish, but rather as Jewish communists joining Stalin’s anti-fascist battlefront,
supported by their friends from the Gwardia Ludowa [People’s Guard] and the
Polish People’s Party. The living heroes of the uprising, such as Marek Edel-
man, Icchak Cukierman, and Cywia Lubetkin were not even mentioned, for they
did not fit the political narrative of the event,259 in which undesirable characters
were eagerly described: Jewish bourgeoisie, collaborationist Judenräte, the
treacherous Bund and the passive government in exile together with its Home
Army. The positive heroes of the Warsaw Ghetto fought against “the bane of
Fascism and Nazism”, and for “the freedom and independence of the coun-
try,”260 or for “human dignity”, which became a ritually repeated cliché used to
give universal meaning to the uprising and to internationalise it.261
Such was the image of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in the public discourse
before 1953, that is, until its 10th anniversary. After Stalin’s death and the Polish
Thaw, significant changes appeared in this discourse. The Warsaw Ghetto Up-
rising was absorbed into the other struggles and resistance acts that made the
Polish nation famous during the World War II. The intensive process of the
polonisation of the uprising had its apogee in 1968, although the first symptoms
of these tendencies had already appeared much earlier. According to Marcin Za-
remba, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was appropriated by the state and “thrown
into one urn with one single inscription: ‘Polish resistance movement’”.262 Thus,
the anniversaries of the outbreak of the uprising served mostly to remind of and
confirm Polish martyrdom and heroism.
The project of the 20th anniversary of the uprising, developed by four de-
partments of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (PZPR), did not
take the nationality of the insurgents into account and the word “Jew” was ab-
sent. Also, during the roll of the dead, the Jewish insurgents were passed over in
silence. Instead, the speeches were devoted to the “sons and daughters of the
Polish nation” who were engaged in the fight for the dignity and honour of our
country.”263 Kazimierz Rusinek, one of the speakers, said: “The Warsaw Ghetto
Uprising was one of the links in the chain of suffering and struggle in which the
Polish nation was involved since the loss of September 1939 to the victory of
May 1945.”264
Even when the Jewish insurgents were casually mentioned, it was in the
context of help they received from the Polish resistance movement, particularly
leftist. The magnitude of loss and suffering experienced by Poles during the war,
as well as their heroism, were mentioned every time. These elements constituted
the plot of all the official speeches and press articles related to the uprising an-
niversary, and resulted from propagandist tasks that, at the behest of the authori-
ties, had to be fulfilled.
Other topics were also raised during the commemorations. The content of
speeches, lectures and articles reflected current ideological tendencies, and was
determined by them. For instance, speakers for years warned against West Ger-
man militarism, which had already once led to war and was allegedly returning.
On the 25th anniversary, “Zionists” (thus Jews) were decried, which was quite
paradoxical. The anniversary fell at the time of the “anti-Zionist” campaign in
Poland, which was reflected in the commemorations. The speakers did not fail
to mention Jewish collaboration with the occupiers, treacherous Judenräte, the
“criminal indifference” of the current leaders of Israel and the Polish aid to the
Jewish insurgents. As proclaimed in the publication about the Warsaw Ghetto
printed on this occasion, this aid was provided first of all by the Polish Workers'
Party and the People's Guard, and personally by Władysław Gomułka, Fran-
ciszek Jóźwiak, Marian Spychalski, Zenon Kliszko and others (the Home Army
was also recognised, for it had been gradually rehabilitated for some time).265
Thus, the laurel wreath of the Warsaw Ghetto heroes went to the heroes of the
Warsaw firmament of power. Five years later, on the 30th anniversary of the
outbreak of the uprising, there were speeches about the passivity “of interna-
tional Jewish financiers towards the martyrdom of Jewish people.” The accusa-
tion of silence and indifference was also applied to the Vatican.266
None of the interpretations spoke the truth about the first urban uprising
against the Nazis in occupied Poland and Europe, i.e. the Warsaw Ghetto Upris-
ing. Its true picture was falsified, universalised (denying its specific character)
and, most of all, polonised. There was silence about the real heroes and the di-
rect link between the uprising and the Holocaust. The uprising was presented as
an event that had no connection to the Holocaust.
From the government’s perspective, such an approach was comfortable and
useful. By emphasising the Polish context and character of the uprising, the
Communist Party hoped to be perceived as Polish and familiar. This goal could
be achieved, for instance, by eliminating the stereotype that the government was
composed of Jews, which, to some extent, was present in the social conscious-
ness. Facing Jewish martyrdom could only strengthen this stereotype. Moreover,
the narrative pattern of speaking about the uprising, which had been elaborated
and implemented for years, had yet another important advantage. It did not de-
prive Poles of their palm of victory in suffering or question the uniqueness of
their heroism. Poles were still first in the “suffering competition.”267 It wasn’t
only party dignitaries and the government who liked this fact. The polonisation
of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was used by the authorities to establish contact
with the nation by commemorating national martyrdom and strengthening the
national belief of the immensity of their own suffering. In other words, it served
to consolidate the essentials of how Poles thought of themselves and the ele-
ments constituting the national stereotype.
***
Summing up the considerations about forgetting the Holocaust within official
and common memory, one should say that the memory of Jews and their war
martyrdom had been long obliterated, on different levels and with the use of di-
verse methods. For decades, the topic had been covered with silence, lies or
some convenient compilation of both. Doubtlessly, the exception was the initial
postwar years, when a lot was written and spoken about the Holocaust, and,
thanks to the courage of some Polish intellectuals, sensitive questions were pub-
lically articulated. Afterwards, even if the problem of Jewish martyrdom during
the war was raised, it always followed the binding discursive pattern.
This pattern was based on reinterpretations, lies and concealments. It was
present in historical and academic literature, in fiction and also in school text-
books, in which the topic of the Holocaust was hardly discussed or even com-
pletely disregarded. It also applied to the policy of memory about the extermina-
tion camp at Auschwitz-Birkenau and to the commemorations of the anniver-
saries of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. Developed long before March ‘68, it was
then that it reached its mature form and the capacity of reinterpreting the whole,
complex war reality. Although Mieczysław Moczar’s influence weakened short-
ly after March and the ruling party changed, the official version of Polish history
remained intact for a long time. Clearly, there were glorious exceptions to this
pattern: in particular, Polish literature about the Holocaust, which has had pride
of place ever since. Yet these were only exceptions.
267 Marcin Zaremba draws attention to this fact. See: M. Zaremba, Urząd zapomnienia...,
p. 73.
Collective forgetting of the Holocaust 83
According to this pattern, the Jewish history of the Nazi occupation was ab-
sorbed into Polish history, Jewish victims became Polish victims and even the
word “extermination” was used to describe what happened to Poles during the
war and strengthen the narrative of Polish martyrdom, which was permanently
in the centre of interest. If the war experience of Jews was no different from
Polish martyrdom, should the term “extermination” not describe the latter?
Since the “encyclopaedist” case it had also been known that the extermination
camps had been installed by the Nazis mainly for Poles. The Holocaust, as an
unprecedented and specifically Jewish experience, was not included in the
scheme. Obviously, neither were the sensitive subjects of the attitudes of Poles
towards the Holocaust. The national conspiracy of silence lasted for decades.
Only the passivity of the Jews and their collaboration with the Nazis were noted,
according to the ready-made March patterns.
Let us now come back to the question raised at the beginning of this chapter.
To what extent did this official forgetting about the Holocaust correspond with
the common forgetting? To what extent did the government meet society half
way? The answer was partly given by what has been already said. Official for-
getting must have met the need for oblivion and corresponded with the sponta-
neous processes of common forgetting. Polish society wanted to erase the Holo-
caust from memory in order to forget their role as passive bystanders. Moreover,
Poles wanted to forget about Jews, who continuously reminded them about the
Holocaust. Hence, according to Ewa Hoffman, “the specific history of the Holo-
caust, Jewish aspects of the Polish pre-war culture and perhaps Jews themselves
– they all became a taboo subject, and, as a result, were gradually forgotten.”268
The silence about the Holocaust can doubtlessly be interpreted as a response
to the shock of witnessing it, its magnitude and incomprehensibility. Most of all,
however, this silence should be interpreted by considering the consequences of
being witnesses: remembering one’s own passivity, often indifference, or even
complicity in the crimes of Polish szmalcowniks and informers. Together with
the memory of the pre-war anti-Semitism and taking over of Jewish properties,
it all must have caused guilty consciences. It must have brought moral discom-
fort even if its causes were not entirely realised or were pushed into the subcon-
scious. The easiest way was to forget all these taboo subjects. A very prosaic
regularity, verbalised by Maurice Halbwachs, is that one remembers what is
comfortable to remember and forgets what is comfortable to forget.269
Forgetting the Holocaust in the People’s Republic of Poland was also forced
by a collective need to feel like a nation made up only of victims and heroes.
Officially cultivated memory of World War II met this demand and was used to
build national identity based on such a belief. Placing fairly treated issues relat-
ed to the martyrdom of Jews on the agenda of public discussion could seriously
thwart these efforts and undermine the structure of the national stereotype, take
the palm of victory away from Poles and question the dogma of the always hero-
ic and oppressed nation.
The sense of national history, Marek Ziólkowski notes, is always easier to
grasp when events conflicting with the main image are ignored.270 Therefore, the
subject of the Holocaust, which could evoke sensitive issues and touch a chord
in the nation, was disregarded in the official memory. This difficult subject was
pacified by stripping it of its uniqueness, redefining it and absorbing it into the
Polish history of the war and the occupation.
The memory of War World II, quite contrary to the Holocaust, was very
significant for the communist government. The state attempted to establish con-
tact with the nation and it was the memory of the war that helped the govern-
ment to present their role in the national history. This memory was like a narrow
bridge where the government met the society that was usually critically oriented
towards it. Clearly, there were still significant differences and tensions between
the official and common memory: for instance, the evaluation of the role of the
Home Army or the interpretation of the Katyn massacre. Nevertheless, there was
a national consensus regarding one issue: the Polish nation emerged from the
wartime destruction as a nation of heroes and victims. The Holocaust was to be
only “a minute, minor and somehow embarrassing element of the fate of the
Polish nation, ‘sentenced for extermination.”271 The subject of Jewish martyr-
dom, which would have been raised openly and loudly, could have undermined
the essence of this unwritten consensus and lead to serious deconstructions of
the national identity, and national identity draws its strength and cohesion main-
ly from the “unifying version of the past in which the collective subject is ideal-
ised”.272
As a result, the Polish memory of the Holocaust became neurotised. The
trauma of witnessing the Holocaust was not dealt with. National mourning was
never announced, because the Holocaust was not regarded as exceptional. All
the troubling elements and traumatic experiences related to it were erased from
memory. Finally, Jews also were sentenced to oblivion. Education, memory pol-
icy, propaganda and academic research not only corresponded with forgetting
but even accelerated it.273 At the same time, they caused even greater distortions
of the Polish collective memory. How deep these distortions are can be proved
not so much by public opinion polls, but mostly by the responses to all the de-
bates about ambiguous Polish attitudes to the Holocaust, which took place in
Poland, and the level of emotions that accompanied them.274 These debates
clearly demonstrate that the process of collective forgetting about the Holocaust
indeed took place; they also demonstrate its scale. Moreover, the discussions
restore the real memories and prove that “the object of memory cannot be easily
annihilated – it is rather suppressed and influences actors from behind the sce-
ne.”275 The first of these debates was held before 1989, at a time when not yet
everything could be said in public.
276 The letter was signed by Władysław Bartoszewski, Alina Cała, Helena Datner-Śpiewak,
Michał Głowiński, Maja Komorowska, Stanisław Krajewski, Zdzisław Łapiński, Jan
Józef Lipski, Konstanty Gebert, Wojciech Karpiński and others. See: Listy do Redakcji,
“Polityka” 12 X 1980, p. 2.
88 Chapter II
fied”.277 The authors of the letter did not respond to this doubt; however, the fol-
lowing years proved that the time had come to talk, and to talk honestly: about
Jews, the Holocaust and, in particular, about Polish-Jewish past. Paraphrasing
what Jacek Borkowicz wrote, the name of the deceased was finally spoken in his
home and the difficult lesson of how to deal with the memory of them and the
knowledge about ourselves was begun.278
This specific process of “reconstructing the memory” (as Michael Steinlauf279
puts it) of Jews, the Holocaust and Polish-Jewish past, and, at the same time, re-
connaissance and “breach in the prevailing area of silence”, as Henryk Szlajfer
wrote280, began at the end of the 1970s and at the beginning of the 1980s. The
shape of this reconnaissance was determined by the restricted freedom of speech
and the psychological barriers to raising some questions. In other words, one
could not say in public everything one wanted to say and, in any case, there were
things that people did not want to speak about. This is illustrated by censored
press articles and responses to Claude Lanzmann’s film and a groundbreaking
Błoński article, which will be discussed later in this chapter.
The initial phases of bringing the Jewish topic to light coincided with the
origin of the “Solidarity” movement and a short period of political pluralism,
interrupted by the imposition of martial law in 1981. However, even if the ruling
period of the Military Council of National Salvation (Polish: Wojskowa Rada
Ocalenia Narodowego, abbreviated WRON) slowed down the process of
memory reconstruction, it certainly did not stop it. Manifestations of this process
were visible at many levels during the last decade of the People’s Republic of
Poland (PRL). In the middle of 1980s, the increase of interest in Jewish themes
became a social phenomenon, if not a certain “fashion”. “Fiddler on the Roof”
was attracting large audiences and the books of Isaac Bashevis Singer, describ-
ing the mysteries of Jewish shtetls, gained great popularity. To what extent was
it a manifestation of the feeling of emptiness, expressed in Antoni Słonimski’s
poem “Elegia miasteczek żydowskich” [Elegy of Jewish towns”], and to what
extent was it only an interest in the exotic folklore of strangers? It is difficult to
answer, particularly since the former does not necessarily exclude the latter.
The aroused interest in Jewish themes was noticed and described by Wiktor
Kulerski in the underground, oppositionist magazine “Krytyka”. Kulerski sug-
gested that such a moment should be used to “straighten out false and schematic
views” and “oppose the attempts to resuscitate old prejudices and obsessions.”281
This challenge had been already faced by some intellectuals before Kulerski
published his text, and continued after the publication It would be hard to deny
that it was Polish intellectuals who brought to light the subject of the difficult
Polish-Jewish past. It was they who broke the prevailing taboo and shameful
silence. Many belonged to or identified with democratic opposition, which at-
tempted to deny the false version of history and to explore its terra incognita.
The activists of Polish liberation movements, from the Committee for Social
Self-Defence (KOR) to the “Solidarity” movement, not only condemned anti-
Semitism but also unmasked its manifestations and stigmatised them whenever
it was possible. Admittedly, before the imposition of martial law, some words
that had fallen from the lips of some activists contradicted this rule and brought
discredit to the movement. However, self-proclaimed eulogists of anti-Semitic
enunciations, such as Marian Jurczyk, who identified Jews with state power,
were criticised or even ostracised.282 One of the ideological aspirations of the
liberation movements was “the need for authentic cleansing – not only a super-
ficial and alibied one – of the sin of omission of the acts against Jews and the
silence over them, particularly if Poles were the perpetrators.” It was the need
for a real catharsis related to past actions.283
Even if authors of these observations overestimated the role of democratic
opposition and the importance of the Jewish question among their ideological
aspirations, the driving force of the processes of memory reconstruction should
doubtlessly be regarded as crucial. The Polish calendar of public holidays was
then supplemented with a whole range of new anniversaries that had never offi-
cially been celebrated before. Oppositionists claimed not only dates, but also
memorials, events and people from the past. They wished to revive them, bring
them back or to embed them into the national memory. Their interest included
both the victims of Katyń and of December 1970. Not without reason did the
historian of ideas, Bronisław Baczko, name this period “an explosion of
memory” and a popular joke at the time was about Poles who were going to run
out of days in a year to celebrate their martyrdom.284 Thus, the period of
281 The article was written by Wiktora Kulerskiego in November, 1987. It was published at
the beginning of 1988. See: W. Kulerski, Na marginesie “żydowskiego” numeru
“Aneksu”, “Krytyka” 1988, no 27, p. 184.
282 See: M. Wieviorka, Les Juifs, la Pologne et Solidarité, Paris 1984.
283 See: Kersten, J. Szapiro, Konteksty współczesnych odniesień polsko-żydowskich,
“Więź” 1998, no 3, p. 292-293.
284 B. Baczko, Polska czasów “Solidarności”, czyli eksplozja pamięci, [in:] Wyobrażenia
społeczne. Szkice o nadziei i pamięci zbiorowej, B. Baczko, Warszawa 1994, p. 193-249.
90 Chapter II
“memory explosion” was perfect to remind Poles about Polish Jews and about
what had happened to them during the war, before the Polish eyes.
The role of democratic opposition in the reconstruction of the memory of
Jews, Polish-Jewish relations and the Holocaust cannot be denied. Neither can
one question the efforts of the scholars whose publications on the subject in-
creased in number in the last decade of the People’s Republic of Poland (PRL).
However, the role of the state in the reconstruction process is less obvious. It is
worth noticing, Krystyna Kersten and Jerzy Szapiro observe, that the state’s of-
ficial manifestation of its interest in Jewish themes was ostentatious.
The authorities wanted the Jewish subject to be well-known, and this was
manifested at many different levels. Jewish fiction was available in bookshops;
Jewish culture could be learnt in theatres; press readers had access to it.285 Most
probably, monographic issues of Catholic magazines devoted to Jewish themes
would not have been released without governmental consent. On the other hand,
taboo subjects did not cease to exist, which was well demonstrated by the re-
sponse of “Polityka” editors to the subject of March 1968. Official discourse
included only glorious and heroic attitudes of Poles towards Jews during the war
and all public attempts to correct this biased judgement were regarded as anti-
Polish. March clichés and plots kept reappearing in literature; for instance, in
Wacław Poterański’s book about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, which was re-
printed in 1983.286
The same year, bookshop shelves filled with Józef Orlicki’s “Szkice z
dziejów stosunków polsko-żydowskich 1918-1949” [Sketches of the History of
Polish-Jewish Relations 1918-1949]. It included a series of lies, obvious to any-
one, and distortions following the prevailing discursive pattern. One of these lies
was that the Kielce pogrom was inspired by Zionists, and that they and actively
participated in it. Orlicki also claimed that Jewish plutocracy, “particularly Zion-
ists and groups related to the World Agudat Yisrael” [an Orthodox Jewish organi-
sation – the author’s note] had not avoided ‘the practice of destroying’ communist
Jews” considered as ‘Jewish dissenters’. Finally, according to Orlicki, Jewish na-
tionalists slandered Poles by accusing them of “zoological anti-Semitism.”287
Detailed analysis of this subject is not the aim of this book. Suffice to say
that the authorities were concerned about changing their image abroad and get-
ting rid of the anti-Semitic odium upon the country. To gain international esteem
and move out of isolation, Wojciech Jaruzelski’s team decided to show to the
world how much significance was attached to Jewish culture and the memory of
the Jews in Poland. Such was the purpose of the sudden interest in Jewish cul-
ture and the ostentatious commemorations of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. In
addition, one should not forget that there were still people in the communist par-
ty, holding various positions, who remembered the leadership of Mieczysław
Moczar with nostalgia and whose worldview was equal to the nationalist version
of communism.288 Without doubt, they reluctantly watched Jewish themes ap-
pearing in public discourse and blocked the process of memory reconstruction.
Nevertheless, the opportunism and conformism of the state resulted in substan-
tial benefits, which were manifested, for instance, in the number of books on
Jewish topics on the bookstore shelves.
These were the circumstances of the process of the reconstruction of
memory about Jews, the Holocaust and the difficult Polish-Jewish past. Its main
initiators were Polish intellectuals of diverse provenience and professions: polit-
ical scientists, sociologists, literati, etc; people involved in democratic opposi-
tion or those who had nothing in common with it. Partly, Polish government also
participated in this process: through distance and passivity, which, in fact, meant
permission. Various efforts were made to restore the memory that had been sup-
pressed and confiscated until then. Therefore, the influence of all the publica-
tions, films, cultural and academic endeavours, celebrations and discursive
events was of diverse intensity and range. It would be impossible to compare the
scope of influence of a film broadcast just before the main edition of the TV
news with an article photocopied by an underground magazine. Similarly, it
would be impossible to compare the words of John Paul II at his visit to Ausch-
witz-Birkenau with a publication of an important academic paper. However, it is
worth presenting a broad spectrum of the events that can be classified as com-
ponents of the process of the reconstruction of memory in the public discourse
in the last decade of the PRL.
Considering different levels of the phenomena that constituted this process,
it is necessary to distinguish between the publications on Jewish topics and
events such as the Pope's visit to Auschwitz, anniversaries of the Warsaw Ghetto
Uprising, or new monuments in the public space, and to analyse them separate-
ly. The first public debates on the Polish attitudes towards Jews and the Holo-
caust, which took place in Poland before 1989, should also be a separate subject
of analysis.
Without doubt, the number of publications related to Jewish topics that ap-
peared in the last decade of the PRL makes this period similar only to the years
immediately following the war. Considering the long silence over the history
and culture of Jews and the Holocaust in particular, this last decade was doubt-
lessly an important turn. It was then when numerous historical studies were pub-
lished, which not only raised the question of the fate of Jews during the war, but
also discussed older history; for instance, the works of Artur Eisenbach289, Alina
Cała290, and Henryk Piasecki291. Admittedly, the majority of these authors were
associated with the Jewish Historical Institute, which conducted Jewish studies
for the whole PRL period. However, this was not the case for all of them.
The majority of the historical works published at the time dealt with various
aspects of the Holocaust. Some authors analysed the help given by Poles to the
Jews during the occupation, sometimes exaggerating it,292 but just as often
providing reliable data, which has been proving valuable even up to now.293
Moreover, interesting studies, both monographs and sourcebooks, were pub-
lished about the organisation and conditions of the Warsaw Ghetto. As for the
latter, particular attention should be paid to “Dziennik getta warszawskiego” by
Adam Czerniakow294, “Kronika getta warszawskiego” by Emanuel Rin-
gelblum295, “Pamiętniki z getta warszawskiego. Fragmenty i regesty”296, and,
most of all, fragments of the invaluable Ringelblum’s Archive, edited by Ruta
Sakowska.297 Jewish history was also examined in the academic journals, with
the Bulletin of the Jewish Historical Institute at the top of the list.298
Academic literature did not avoid the subjects that were sensitive for Poles.
Analysing the ideology and organisation of pre-war nationalist organisations,
Szymon Rudnicki and Roman Wapiński discussed the anti-Semitism of these
groups and Polish society’s susceptibility to it.299 In his work on the Blue Police,
Adam Hempel examined the role of this organisation in the persecution and ex-
termination of the Jewish population, despite the difficulty of the subject and its
links to the Polish collaboration.300 Kazimierz Wyka’s “Życie na niby” [Life as
If], regarding social and economic life under the Nazi occupation, definitely re-
ferred to the Polish conscience. In his book, first published in 1957 and com-
plemented and reprinted in 1986, Wyka used harsh words to describe the prob-
lem of the acquisition of properties of the Holocaust victims: the problem of
Poles who became more or less coincidental beneficiaries of someone else’s
misery. The author seemed to have asked: “How do Poles cope with this
knowledge”?301
The subject of the Polish-Jewish past was also present in a documentary
work of fundamental historical importance, written by Emanuel Ringelblum,
published in 1988, and entitled: “Stosunki polsko-żydowskie w czasie II wojny
światowej”. The author did not limit his analysis to the war period; he also in-
cluded Polish-Jewish relations before the war.302 Another author who raised the
subject of Poles and Jews living next to each other in pre-war Poland was the
sociologist Aleksander Hertz in “Żydzi w kulturze polskiej”: the “opus mag-
num” of his life, as he called it. The book was first published in 1961 by the Lit-
erary Institute in Paris, but its first Polish edition was only released in 1988. It
also could not avoid censorship, which removed the introduction written by the
author.303
In the last decade of the PRL, Polish historians who studied Jewish history
and the Holocaust not only published their research results, but also presented
their work at international conferences devoted to Polish-Jewish relations. These
conferences provided an opportunity to present the achievements of Polish his-
torians and to establish contacts and ensure international research cooperation.
They also offered an excellent forum for exchanging ideas and experiences and
299 See: Sz. Rudnicki, Obóz Narodowo-Radykalny. Geneza i działalność, Warszawa 1985;
R. Wapiński, Narodowa Demokracja 1893-1939, Warszawa 1989.
300 A. Hempel, Pogrobowcy klęski. Rzecz o policji “granatowej” w Generalnym Guberna-
torstwie 1939-1945, Warszawa 1985, p. 166-189.
301 K. Wyka, Życie na niby, Warszawa 1986.
302 A. Eisenbach (ed.), E. Ringelblum, Stosunki polsko-żydowskie w czasie II wojny świa-
towej, Warszawa 1988.
303 A. Hertz, Żydzi w kulturze polskiej, Warszawa 2003, p. 319-323; Książka ta ukazała się
również w 1987 nakładem podziemnej Oficyny Wydawniczej “Margines”.
94 Chapter II
for discussing sensitive issues. The first such conference took place in 1983 in
New York and was entitled: “Poles and Jews: myth and reality in historical con-
text”.304 Another, which was attended by historians from Poland, Israel and the
USA, was organised a year later in Oxford.305 It was at this conference where an
initiative was developed to edit a journal entirely devoted to the history of Polish
Jews. It was first entitled “Polin. A Journal of Polish-Jewish Studies”, but the
name was later changed into “Polin. Studies in Polish Jewry” (Polin means “Po-
land” in Yiddish). The first issue of the journal was published in 1986. “Polin”
has remained to be an esteemed journal in which researchers from different
countries present their research results. The current editor-in-chief is Antony
Polonsky.
Finally, an international conference devoted to the history of Polish Jews
took place in Poland, in 1986 in Cracow. It was attended by scholars from
France, Israel, Great Britain, the USA and Poland. The subject of the conference
was “Autonomy of Jews in Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth”, which, as the
journalists rightly observed, should not have aroused “any emotions except aca-
demic interest.”306 The event was meaningful for two reasons. First, because it
was the first endeavour of this kind; second, because it inaugurated an interde-
partmental program in the history and culture of Polish Jews at the Jagiellonian
University. It had been the second such initiative in Poland, after the Depart-
ment of Jewish Culture at the University of Warsaw. The status and character of
the Jewish Historical Institute or the Flying University (Polish: Uniwersytet Lat-
ający) was different. The latter, very specific and non-institutionalised, was in-
tended as an informal discussion forum and was founded in the 1980s by young
Polish Jews discovering their identity and sometimes called “the new Jews”. In
their search for knowledge about Jewish culture, tradition, history, etc., they
304 The conference was held on 6-10 March 1983. It resulted in a publication: Proceedings
of the Conference of Poles and Jews – Myth and Reality in the Historical Context, Held
and Columbia University, 6-10 March 1983, Institute on East Central Europe, Columbia
University, New York 1986.
305 The conference was held in September 1984. The presented papers were published 2
years later. See: Ch. Abramsky, M. Jachimczyk, A. Polonsky (ed.), The Jews in Poland,
Oxford 1986; Another conference entitled “History and culture of Polish Jews” was
held at the end of January and the beginning of February 1988 in Jerusalem. Almost a
hundred Poles took part.
306 J. Gaworski, A. Gorzała, Polacy-Żydzi po raz pierwszy, “Więź” 1986, no 11-12, p. 215;
See: także A. Link-Lenczowski, T. Polański (ed.), Żydzi w dawnej Rzeczypospolitej.
Materiały z konferencji “Autonomia Żydów w Rzeczypospolitej Szlacheckiej”. Między-
wydziałowy Zakład Historii i Kultury Żydów w Polsce Uniwersytet Jagielloński 22-26
IX 1986, Wrocław-Warszawa-Kraków 1991.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 95
started gathering in private homes, where they organised informal lectures and
seminars. Jewish and non-Jewish experts, Polish and foreign, were invited as
speakers. Sometimes the members elaborated on some subjects on their own,
and others were only discussed as a group. The imposition of the martial law,
however, ended the short activity of the Flying University.
Returning to publications about war martyrdom of Jews, one should not for-
get about particular sources of data, first published or reprinted in the 1980s:
diaries, journals and memoirs written during and after the war. This diverse lit-
erature was written by the victims and witnesses of the Holocaust, both children
and adults: Dawid Rubinowicz307, Janusz Korczak308, Halina Birenbaum309, Ja-
nina Bauman310, Irena Birnbaum311, Mary Berg312, Henryk Makower313, Arnold
Mostowicz314, Jerzy Eisner315, Eugenia Szajn-Lewin316, Jona Oberski317, Stefana
Chaskielewicz318, and Leokadia Schmidt319. The above list of authors is obvious-
ly incomplete. Moreover, in 1979 and 1987, a very popular book-length inter-
view given to Hanna Krall by the hero of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, Mark
Edelman, was reprinted.320
Particular attention should also be given to another kind of witness litera-
ture: poetry by Holocaust victims. Books of poems released at the time included,
for instance, the works of Władysław Szlengel, a poet of the Warsaw Ghetto321,
and “Wiersze wybrane” [Selected Poems] by Zuzanna Ginczanka322. Unfortu-
nately, none of the authors survived the Holocaust. However, their poetry – a
testimony of the “crematoria era” – included questions that were not asked in
postwar Poland, presented in poetic form the indifference of Poles towards the
Holocaust, highlighted the differences between Poles and Jews in their war ex-
periences and brought up the szmalcownik figures.323 Certainly, the Holocaust
was also considered by other Polish poets whose works were published at the
time: Polish Jews and Poles, both victims and witnesses, for instance: Czesław
Miłosz, Stanisław Wygodzki and Jerzy Ficowski. The latter was classified by
Henryk Grynberg as “one of the most important voices on the memory side”324.
In the last decade of the PRL, numerous novels devoted to the Holocaust
were also released. Although the vast majority had been first published much
earlier, new editions came out in the decade of interest in the Jewish topic, dur-
ing the process of “recovering the subject of the Holocaust.”325 Achievements of
Polish literature devoted to the Holocaust, novels in particular, were “greater
than superpowers”326, to quote Henryk Grynberg again. The authors wrote open-
ly about Polish indifference towards the Holocaust, about szmalcowniks and
Polish anti-Semitism; suffice to mention “Początek” by Andrzej Szczypiorski or
“Umschlagplatz” by Jarosław Marek Rymkiewicz.327
A kind of phenomenon, shrewdly observed by Jan Błoński, was the presence
of Polish Jews in the field of Polish literature. Although these writers wrote not
only about the Holocaust, it was the main subject of their interest, which al-
lowed them to refer to the bygone world of Polish Jews and describe the void
they left. Błoński referred to this phenomenon as to “the most cruel paradox”,
for “Jewish presence in the field of novel, or even in Polish literature in general,
had never been more visible than after the Holocaust.”328 Błoński commented on
323 It is worth noticing that Zuzanna Ginczanka’s poem: “Non omnis moria” was used in
1946 as evidence in the case of Zofia and Marian Chomin, who were accused of de-
nouncing Jews (including the author of the poem). See: A. Haska, Znałam tylko jedną
Żydóweczkę ukrywającą się… Sprawa Zofii i Mariana Chominów, “Zagłada Żydów.
Studia i Materiały” 2008, no 4, p. 392-408.
324 H. Grynberg, Holocaust w literaturze polskiej, [in:] Prawda nieartystyczna, H. Gryn-
berg, Wydawnictwo Czarne, Wołowiec 2003, p. 179.
325 Such an expression relating to Polish literature of 1990s devoted to the Holocaust was
used by Przemysław Czapliński See: P. Czapliński, Odzyskiwanie Zagłady, “Przegląd
Polityczny”2003, no 61, p. 72-80.
326 H. Grynberg, Holocaust w literaturze polskiej, [in:] Prawda nieartystyczna, H. Gryn-
berg, Wydawnictwo Czarne, Wołowiec 2003, p. 179.
327 A. Szczypiorski, Początek, Paryż 1986; J. M. Rymkiewicz, Umschlagplatz, Warszawa
1988.
328 J. Błoński, Autoportret żydowski czyli o żydowskiej szkole w literaturze polskiej, [in:]
Biedni Polacy patrzą na getto, J. Błoński, Wydawnictwo Literackie, Kraków 1996, p. 63.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 97
this paradox quite emphatically, writing that Jewish literature in Polish language
in the postwar period, novels in particular, “flourished – quite literally – at the
graveyard.”329
During the discussed period, Jewish themes were present not only in popular
and academic literature, but also in official and underground Polish press. A
special issue of “Znak” monthly, published in 1983, and almost 600 pages long,
was devoted only to this subject. In his introduction, Stefan Wilkanowicz called
for national self-examination regardless of the “opportunistic topicality” of Jew-
ish themes.330 In the same year, the Catholic “Więź” magazine also published a
whole issue devoted to the Jewish minority and to Polish-Jewish relations.331
Both magazines had occasionally included the subject before, but since the be-
ginning of the 1980s it had remained there for good. 1983 was the groundbreak-
ing inauguration of writing about Jewish issues, which the content of the follow-
ing issues of the magazines clearly demonstrates.332 Hence, the role these Catho-
lic magazines (also “Tygodnik Powszechny”) had in breaking the silence about
Jews and the Holocaust seems invaluable from a time perspective, as the first
debates on the Holocaust, Polish-Jewish past and Polish anti-Semitism were
held in their columns.
These difficult subjects were also examined by the underground press. Hav-
ing escaped from the limitations to free speech, underground magazines featured
even more articles about sensitive subjects, with even more courage and firm-
ness than before. Already in 1980, on the wave of the “Solidarity carnival” and
“the explosion of memory”, a supplement to “Biluetyn Dolnośląski”, entitled
“Jews and Poles” was published. The occasion was the 40th anniversary of the
closing of the ghettos. The editorial included an appeal: “We have recalled the
Katyn Massacre and the murder of the Baltic countries. Perhaps we should also
recall Palmiry. We MUST [original spelling – the author’s note] recall the be-
ginning of the extermination of Jews in Europe”. The editorial later reads: “Let
us leave general problems. Let us look at Polish Jews. Not only to pay homage
to their martyrdom, but also because the Jewish topic is still a problem for us,
even if Jews are no longer among us.” The problems signalled in this fragment
were discussed later in the article: the problem of “our ignorance” about the cul-
tural, religious and social life of the former citizens of Poland, the problem of
“our conscience burdened with the pre-war anti-Jewish excesses”, ghetto bench-
333 See: “Biuletyn Dolnośląski”, Żydzi i Polacy. Dodatek specjalny, 1980 (listopad-
grudzień), no 11/18, p. 1-2; citation after: M. Steinlauf, Pamięć…, p. 116-117.
334 See: “Aneks” 1986, no 41-42.
335 See: A. Smolar, Tabu i niewinność, “Aneks”1986, no 41-42, p. 75-121.
336 Lipski’s essay, the full title of which is: Dwie ojczyzny, dwa patriotyzmy (uwagi o me-
galomanii narodowej i ksenofobii Polaków) [Two fatherlands, two patriotisms: remarks
on Polish national megalomania and xenophobia] was first published in 1981 in War-
saw by Niezależna Oficyna Wydawnicza (NOWA).
337 See: J. Jedlicki, Dziedzictwo i odpowiedzialność zbiorowa, “Res Publica”1987, no 5,
p. 73.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 99
(cf. Rom 4:11-12), as Paul of Tarsus has said. This, the very people that received
from God the commandment, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ itself experienced in a par-
ticular measure what killing means. No one is permitted to pass by this inscrip-
tion with indifference.”338
John Paul II demanded that Jews be remembered as victims of the Holo-
caust, and his words were quoted by the press. By noticing the vastness of Jew-
ish martyrdom, he spoke on behalf of the absent. What is more, he did it at the
site that symbolised the Holocaust. The Pope’s words can certainly be consid-
ered as a breakthrough and an inaugural stage of the process of reconstructing
Polish memory of the Holocaust. By having his say in Birkenau, John Paul II
contributed to this process, as he similarly did a few years later when he took an
important step towards ecumenical dialogue by crossing the threshold of a Ro-
man synagogue.
The Pope’s visit to the former camp, however, also initiated the process of
Christianisation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, although not through the fault or direct
participation of the Pope. Communist symbols were replaced by Catholic ones
and anonymous victims became to be embodied by Maksymilian Kolbe and
Edyta Stein, a founder and editor of interwar anti-Semitic press and a Jew who
converted to Catholicism but died in Auschwitz because of her origin; both were
canonised by John Paul II. The Christianisation of Auschwitz-Birkenau com-
bined with a tendency to Polonise its victims provoked strong protests from
Jews, which ended in several Polish-Jewish conflicts. The first was related to a
Carmelite Sisters monastery located in the area within the borders of the camp.
It began in 1985 and for a long time attracted the attention of Polish and interna-
tional public opinion.
Commemorations of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising were also significant for
the process of the recovery and reconstruction of the Polish memory of the Hol-
ocaust. In particular, the 40th anniversary of the outbreak of the uprising was a
groundbreaking and noteworthy event. As has been already mentioned, General
Wojciech Jaruzelski’s team wished to get support and economic help from the
West and thus took care to present the country in a favourable light. After the
imposition of martial law, this need was even more burning. In order to improve
the image of Poland around the world, Jaruzelski’s team decided to use the 40th
anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. This move was inspired by a ste-
reotypical and not very sophisticated belief that Jews had considerable influence
on shaping the world’s public opinion. The government had already flirted
“publicly with so-called philosemitic trends”339 for some time, which was
demonstrated, for instance, by the number of books in stores. An element of this
flirtation was the 40th anniversary of the uprising, to which Jews and Jewish or-
ganisations from all around the world were invited.
Against the organisers’ intentions, as Ireneusz Krzemiński noted, “this po-
litical plan of the general failed.”340 Underground press published an open let-
ter by Marek Edelman, the last living leader of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, in
which the author called on his readers to boycott the official commemorations
organised under the control of the still binding martial law. His letter was re-
printed by the Western press and although not all the invited guests heeded the
appeal and some decided to participate in the event, the significance of the
commemorations was considerably depreciated. Most importantly, the state
monopoly in organising the anniversary of the uprising was broken. A few
days before the official anniversary, alternative commemorations were pre-
pared by people connected with the democratic opposition and by young Polish
Jews. They laid flowers at the Jewish Ghetto Memorial, gave speeches and re-
cited Kaddish. Another alternative commemoration took place at the Jewish
Cemetery in Warsaw.
Since then, unofficial commemorations of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising have
been regular events, but on a different scale. According to Michael Steinlauf,
who participated in many commemorative events in person, they “became ever
more closely intertwined with the Polish political struggle.”341 What demon-
strates this process are underground postage stamps with Lech Wałęsa’s image,
the “Solidarity” logo, or the Kotwica symbol (the emblem for the Polish struggle
to regain independence), and stamps with the well known image of a ghetto
fighter being led out from a bunker or a terrified Jewish boy with his hands
raised above the head. By the way, the latter photo became a kind of a “symbol
of the extermination of European Jews and one of the most often used images of
the Holocaust”.342
During independent celebration of the 45th anniversary of the outbreak of the
uprising, “Solidarity” activists solemnly unveiled a monument in memory of
Victor Alter and Henryk Ehrlich, leaders of the Bund who had been murdered in
It was in the middle of the 1990s when the multi-language plaques around
the International Monument to the Victims of Fascism in Birkenau, which clear-
ly hid the truth about the main victims of this death camp, were replaced.
The process of reconstructing Polish memory about Jews and the Holocaust
in the 1980s, including the difficult Polish-Jewish past, was manifested also in
other ways, for example, the weeks of Jewish culture organised by the Klub In-
teligencji Katolickiej (KIK; English: Club of Catholic Intellectuals), the initia-
tives related to the Christian-Jewish dialogue and an academic session on the
topic of March 1968 organised at the University of Warsaw. In addition, what
deserve particular attention are the first public debates, which violated the na-
tional taboo about the attitudes of Polish society towards Jews and, in particular,
the Holocaust. The impulses that prompted these debates were two profoundly
moving works of art: Claude Lanzmann’s film “Shoah” and Jan Błoński’s essay
“The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto”. Although using different methods, both
authors touched the sensitive side of Polish self-knowledge and began the pro-
cess of deconstructing the national auto-stereotype. Defensive responses to their
works can prove how sensitive the subject was and how much it was repressed.
346 More on Lanzmann’s film, See: T. Majewski, Sub Specie Mortis. Notes on Claude
Lanzmann’s, “Kultura Współczesna” 2003, no 4, p. 198-208.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 103
of view, between testimonial stances which can neither be assimilated into, nor
subsumed by one another.”347 Thus, Lanzmann depicts three different categories
of his interviewees who responded to his inquiry: “those who witnessed the dis-
aster as its victims (the surviving Jews), those who witnessed the disaster as its
perpetrators (the ex-Nazis); those who witnessed the disaster as bystanders (the
Poles).”348 These three lead parts of “Shoah” were borrowed from the funda-
mental classification made by the historian Raul Hilberg, the only academic ex-
pert in the film.349
As Shoshana Felman shrewdly observed, Lanzmann’s film, thanks to the
distinction between the three categories of the interviewees and the penetrating
questions of the director, allows the viewer to see “three different performances
of the act of seeing”. Jews (victims) see, “but they do not understand the pur-
pose and the destination of what they see; overwhelmed by loss and by decep-
tion, they are blind to the significance of what they witness.” They fail to see
that the aim of their journey by cattle cars is death. Poles (bystanders), unlike
the Jews, do see but, as bystanders, they do not quite look, they avoid looking
directly, and thus they overlook at once their responsibility and their complicity
as witnesses.” Finally, Germans see and participate but they try to hide what
they see and do: make it invisible, cover it with euphemisms. They do not see
bodies or people but “disembodied verbal substitute” which they refer to as
“Figuren”.350
“Shoah” is a film woven with the multivoiced discourse of the survivors,
perpetrators and witnesses, who speak about the Holocaust in different lan-
guages and from different perspectives. It is also woven with today’s landscapes
of the places where the Holocaust happened; the remaining of ex-camps, remote
areas and the silence that envelops them and creeps into the statements of the
characters. The film has no soundtrack, unless the clatter of the train to Treblin-
ka, recurring like a leitmotiv, can be counted as one. Consequently, Simone de
Beauvoir notes: “Neither fiction nor documentary, Shoah succeeds in recreating
the past with an amazing economy of means: places, voices, faces. The great-
ness of Claude Lanzmann’s art is in making places speak, in reviving them
through voices and, over and above words, conveying the unspeakable through
people’s expressions.”351
Gesticulation and body language play an important part in “Shoah”. They
express emotions, and therefore arouse emotions in the viewer, which was prob-
ably Lanzmann’s primary goal. Not only did he make places speak, but also
people, sometimes exposing them to difficult tests. He formulated insightful
questions, mostly about the feelings, thoughts, reactions and behaviour that ac-
companied the victims, perpetrators and bystanders while they were fulfilling
the roles they were either given or chose themselves. For this purpose,
Lanzmann not only asked his interviewees to visit places with him that evoked
their memories, but also made some of them reconstruct and confront the past
by roleplaying. “People in his film do not narrate memories but rather re-
experience situations”, Gertrud Koch notes. In other words, Lanzmann forced
his interviewees to go through past events again, but this time in front of the
camera. Jan Karski’s and Abraham Bomba’s testimonies prove to what extent
this artistic method was successful.
However, neither the construction nor the artistic value of Lanzmann’s film
was discussed in the debate over “Shoah” that took place in Poland. The debat-
ers focused only on Polish aspects of the film; precisely, on how Lanzmann pre-
sented Polish witnesses of the Holocaust and for what purpose. The film indeed
includes many Polish threads: as Poland had been the main arena of the Holo-
caust, Lanzmann talked to its Polish bystanders. People who lived in the imme-
diate vicinity of the Nazi factories of death saw the arriving transports and
smoke rising from the crematoria; they felt its scent while cultivating their
fields. The director talked to Henryk Gawkowski, a railwayman who drove
trains full of Jews to the Treblinka station under German command. He also
talked to farmers from Treblinka, to residents of Chelmno and asked questions
to people who live today in former Jewish houses.
Almost all of his Polish interviewees were simple people who formulated
their statements in a simple way. Lanzmann asked them what they had felt dur-
ing the war, what their attitude towards Jews and the Holocaust had been. An-
swers and facial expressions were different. Some people could not hide emo-
tions and burst into tears. Others, proud and excited about the conversation with
a foreign director, smiled despite talking of terrifying things. Still others, such as
a group of Chelmno residents, repeated openly anti-Semitic clichés, which reso-
nated with those of the teachings of the Catholic Church but were far from the
Second Vatican Council. Some talked about Jewish wealth and how Jews had
351 See: Simone de Beauvoir’s preface to the book with the text of Claude Lanzmann’s film
“Shoah”. C. Lanzmann, Shoah, Koszalin 1993, p. 7.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 105
exploited Poles. The only exception to this poorly educated group of the Holo-
caust bystanders was Jan Karski, who appeared almost at the very end of the
film. Reporting his visits to the Warsaw Ghetto, he spasmodically burst into
tears and overcame his emotions with difficulty. One could say that Karski was
the only Polish intellectual in Lanzmann’s film, and he did not even live in Po-
land.
The debate over “Shoah” was difficult and complicated from the very begin-
ning, mainly because almost nobody in Poland had seen the film, including its
critics. Those who spoke publically about the film were basing their opinions only
on the commentaries from the French press or repeated schematic opinions dis-
seminated by Polish press. Thus, it was the film’s reviews and opinions rather
than the film itself that shaped the social representations around which the debate
revolved. Claude Lanzmann himself made the debate even more complicated and
off the track by stating his opinions and reflections to the press. He suggested that
the Nazis had decided to install the death camps in Poland because they had be-
lieved they could count on “Polish complicity”. He also equated Catholicism with
anti-Semitism, claiming that as much as Poles were Catholics, they were also an-
ti-Semites, for anti-Semitism was included in the teachings of the Catholic
Church.352 In other words, Lanzmann often said things that were untrue or half
true; he also reacted impulsively and considered different opinions as insult. It
was noticed even by those debaters who evaluated his film positively and wanted
to separate Lanzmann’s work from his character. “Let us not believe the artist but
his work” – Timothy Garton Ash asked in his review of “Shoah”.353
“Debate” is perhaps not the best word to describe the commentaries on
“Shoah” that appeared in the Polish press. The majority of articles, published
even before the French premiere, resembled an organised attack, or at least a
long and well-thought out campaign. This campaign even preceded the Polish
release of the film and was organised, as Jerzy Jedlicki noted, almost in the im-
age and likeness of the one from 1968.354 It was conducted mainly by “Trybuna
Ludu”, “Życie Warszawy”, “Rzeczpospolita”, but also by specialist magazines
devoted to cinematography, such as “Film”, or “Ekran”. The majority of their
journalists referred to an article published by the French newspaper “Libera-
tion”, entitled “Poland on the dock”, which included the controversial Lanzmann
352 Citation after: M. Jaworski, Kto na ławie oskarżonych?, “Trybuna Ludu” 20 IV 1985,
p. 6.
353 T. Garton Ash, Życie śmierci, “Aneks” 1986, no 41-42, p. 44.
354 See: Dyskusja wokół tekstu Abrahamama Brumberga “Polska inteligencja a antysemi-
tyzm”, (a debate that Krystyna Kersten, Jerzy Jedlicki, Konstanty Gebert, Alina Cała,
Abraham Brumberg participated in), “Biuletyn Żydowskiego Instytutu Historycznego”
1997, no 2, p. 5.
106 Chapter II
quotes, and other equally schematic and one-sided publications from the French
press. That famous statement influenced the critical reception of “Shoah”, which
the titles of the articles clearly demonstrate: “Potwarz” [“Calumny”]355, “Shoah –
skandaliczny film szkalujący Polaków – w programie francuskiej tv”356 [“Shoah
– a scandalous film that vilifies Poles – a French TV programme”], “Trwa anty-
polska kampania we Francji” 357 [Anti-Polish campaign in France continues”],
“Antypolscy fałszerze historii” [Anti-Polish forgers of history”]358, “Obelga dla
Polaków” 359 [“Insult for Poles”], “Film »Shoah« obelgą dla narodu polskiego”
360
[“The film ‘Shoah’: an insult to the Polish nation”], “Oszczerstwa przeciwko
Polsce w filmie ‘Shoah’”361 [Slander against Poles in the film ‘Shoah’], to name
but a few.
The analysis of the majority of the articles that appeared in the aforemen-
tioned magazines demonstrates that they were in the same vein. The only differ-
ences were the levels of aggression and the fact that some of them were based
not only on other people’s opinions and selected fragments from the French
press, but also on the statements of foreign correspondents who had seen the
film. Nevertheless, they seem to have been written according to the same pat-
tern, which was nothing new in the communist press. Moving from the general
to the particular, let us now reconstruct the objections against “Shoah”, bearing
in mind that almost no one had seen the film at the time, which blinded both the
offensive and defensive press campaigns.
First of all, “Shoah” was considered an anti-Polish film, one that vilified
Poles and thus Poland. The word “anti-Polish”, as well as “insult”, “slur” or
“slander” were key terms used to describe and review the film. The “anti-
Polishness” was believed to be demonstrated in the anti-Semitic label assigned
to Poles and the deliberate distortion of the image of the war to Poland’s disad-
vantage; in showing Poles in a bad light and portraying a biased image of World
War II. Lanzmann’s film was accused of distortion of historical truth, one-
sidedness and manipulation. According to the journalists, “Shoah” suggested the
complicity of Poles in the Holocaust or, at least, their tacit consent. The director
355 Z. Morawski, Potwarz, “Życie Warszawy” 2 V 1985, p. 2; (W. R.), Potwarz, “Ekran”
19 V 1985, p. 2.
356 (PAP), “Shoah” – skandaliczny film szkalujący Polaków – w programie francuskiej tv,
“Życie Warszawy” 29 IV 1985, p. 2.
357 M. Jaworski, Trwa antypolska kampania we Francji, “Trybuna Ludu” 3 V 1985, p. 7.
358 D. Luliński, Antypolscy fałszerze historii, “Trybuna Ludu” II V 1985, p. 6.
359 (PAP), Obelga dla Polaków, “Rzeczpospolita” 6 V 1985, p. 7.
360 (PAP), Film “Shoah” obelgą dla narodu polskiego, “Rzeczpospolita” 3 V 1985, p. 1, 5.
361 (PAP), Oszczerstwa przeciwko Polsce w filmie “Shoah”, “Rzeczpospolita” 4 V 1985,
p.1.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 107
was accused of ignoring the aid provided to Jews by Poles, who sometimes paid
for it with their life: in other words, of disregarding the Polish Righteous Among
the Nations.
In addition, Lanzmann was accused of excessive focus on Jewish martyr-
dom and of the omission of the fact that Poles had also suffered during the war.
Thus, he was accused of “depleting Polish martyrdom”, of questioning the suf-
fering and heroism of Poles. Some of the more aware journalists – those who
had actually seen “Shoah” – had stipulations related to Lanzmann’s choice of
Polish witnesses of the Holocaust. They complained that he had chosen primi-
tive interviewees, and not people from Warsaw or former members of the Home
Army or Żegota, or the Polish Righteous. They were also displeased that his
film had not included any historical sources, archival materials, or experts’ voic-
es, etc.
The criticism and protests against Claude Lanzmann’s film were not only
formulated by journalists. Some state institutions and organisations and individ-
ual, self-appointed defenders of Poland’s good name also manifested their dis-
approval, for example with the protest of the Presidium of the Supreme Bar
Council, the veteran organisation ZBoWiD (the Society of Fighters for Freedom
and Democracy), or the Board of the Association of War Veterans of the PRL.
In addition, a declaration condemning Lanzmann's film was addressed to the
French Embassy by the representatives of the Board of the Social and Cultural
Association of Jews in Poland and the Religious Association of Judaism. Need-
less to say, the criticism expressed by the organisations of the Polish Jews was
particularly powerful because of the identity of its authors. Thus, the statement
made by Polish Jews was extensively reported, and individual opinions of Jews
in this matter were also published.
A “strong protest” against the film was also expressed and submitted in
writing to the French charge d’affaires by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The
letter stated, for instance, that: “(...) the film contains insinuations, insulting for
the Polish nation, about the alleged complicity of Poles in the Hitlerite geno-
cide” and called for its removal from French television. The Polish Ministry also
criticised the participation of the French president and members of the French
government in the premiere of “Shoah”. A journalist who commented on the
statement declared that: “(...) Polish public opinion fully supports the ministerial
protest, dictated by the will to defend our national dignity, against broadcasting
such an abusive film, which casts aspersions on Poles”.362
362 See: Protest polskiego MSZ w związku z wyświetlaniem francuskiego filmu “Shoah”,
“Życie Warszawy” 2 V 1985, p. 2; Protest polskiego MSZ przeciw filmowi “Shoah”,
108 Chapter II
The defence of Poland’s good name was not limited to official declarations.
The legitimate, censored discourse also included attempts to defend the heroic-
martyred image of the war, which “Shoah” had supposedly questioned. For this
purpose, Lanzmann’s film was often supplemented with the content that the di-
rector had allegedly ignored and its “lies” and “distortions” were corrected.
Supplementing mostly consisted of bringing up the figures of the Polish
Righteous and depicting Poles as a nation that helped Jews on a mass scale and
paid the highest price for their actions. The testimonies of Polish Jews who had
survived the war solely due to Polish help were published, as well as infor-
mation about the number of Polish trees in Yad Vashem. Polish martyrdom, si-
lenced by Lanzmann, was also brought up. There were even suggestions that “it
is a documented truth that the Hitlerite Reich gave the order for biological ex-
termination of Poles and Jews”.363 While the author of this statement presented
Poles and Jews as nations equally sentenced to extermination, other versions
presented Poles as “second on the list.”364 Perhaps this was the reason why
Lanzmann was accused that he had not emphasised the “Polish-Jewish war
‘community of faith’”?365
The suffering Poles, fully devoted to helping Jews, and their heroic attitude
in the fight against the occupier was contrasted with a completely dissimilar im-
age of the French and France under Nazi occupation. The French were re-
proached for their collaboration with the Nazis, the Vichy Government, the
“French Gestapo” and the fact that Marshall Petaine’s collaborating government
had been responsible for the extermination of French Jews. French society was
also reminded that their achievements in helping Jews were not comparable to
the Polish ones, which was supposedly demonstrated by the disproportion in the
number of trees on Yad Vashem. The Polish nation, the press reminded, had
never delivered to this world any Petain or Quisling and although helping Jews
had been punished by death, Poles had not hesitated to lend a hand to the dying.
This contrast was clearly expressed by one of the journalists, who wrote: “the
behaviour pattern of the Polish nation under foreign occupation, which is pre-
served in our memory and subconscious, contains three main axioms: resistance
against the occupiers, protest against their policy and moral condemnation of
those who collaborate with them (...) In France, collaboration was a norm, and
conspiracy, resistance and partisan movement – a violation of the norm.”366
This was not the end of the list of accusations against the French. The posi-
tive image of Poles was incomplete and the mood was not quite improved. The
problem of anti-Semitism, which Lanzmann and the French press reproached
Poland with, was not solved. However, the journalists defending Poland’s good
name came up with a solution. They argued that France was where anti-
Semitism actually ruled, where acts of vandalism were committed on Jewish
cemeteries, synagogues burned and Jews lived in constant fear. Poland, on the
other hand, was believed to be a place where the Jewish minority lived with a
sense of security and never complained about any manifestations anti-Semitism,
as they certified themselves in the press. Parenthetically, it is interesting that the
example of French anti-Semitism can serve to invalidate Polish anti-Semitism.
As has been already mentioned, all the press statements were primarily in-
tended to extract all the differences between Polish and French attitudes during
the Nazi occupation. They were supposed to clearly demonstrate the Polish
moral superiority, provide reasons for national pride, and thus refute the alleged
charges. They also served to prove that the French had no right to make any ac-
cusations against Poland and Poles regarding the war past and anti-Semitism;
particularly that no one else but Poles fought for freedom for Poland, France and
other countries. Lanzmann was advised to focus on the dark side of his own na-
tion and make their self-examination the main subject of his film.
Why did the French press accuse Poles of anti-Semitism and complicity in
the Holocaust? Why was Lanzmann’s film made? To quote one of the journal-
ists, using the well known conspiracy rhetoric: “Who gave the false testimony
and why? Whose political need is this distortion of historical truth?”367
The articles that preceded the Polish premiere of “Shoah” did not fail to an-
swer these questions. They demonstrated that both the film and the accusations
against Poland by the French press had the same purpose: to ease the French
conscience and draw the attention of the international public opinion away from
their troublesome war heritage. Moreover, as one of the journalists suggested,
the anti-Polish campaign unleashed by Lanzmann was not only a method “to
divert attention from their own [French] imperfections from this period [World
War II – author’s note]” but also was a “screen, behind which the contemporary
ulcers of the reviving of Le Pen’s brand of fascism” and “the raising wave of
xenophobia, racism and homophobia in France” was to be hidden.368
There were also suggestions that “the anti-Polish film ‘Shoah’ seems to be
an element of a larger political whole, including the falsification of history”.
Although the author of the statement did not specify which “larger political
whole” he meant, the spirit of March ’68 was definitely present in his article.
Writing “Paris’s flirt with Bonn is also intensifying”, he followed in the foot-
steps of the March speakers who had informed the public about the flirtation be-
tween Bonn and Tel Aviv.369 The purpose of this alleged alliance was believed
to be the same as the supposed aim of Lanzmann’s film: making Poles co-
responsible for the Holocaust. The Paris correspondent Marek Jaworski in the
daily “Trybuna Ludu” openly stated that Lanzmann’s theories are “(...) simple
and already well known from the enunciations of some anti-Polish, Zionist cir-
cles.”370 Thus, Jaworski wrote what others only implied: that “Shoah” was “yet
another attempt to justify Hitlerite crimes” and an invaluable support to the ef-
forts of West German “revanchists” and revisionists.371 Similar charges had been
earlier brought against Jan Józef Lipski after the publication of his essay: “Dwie
ojczyzny, dwa patriotyzmy” [“Two fatherlands, two patriotisms”].
In this way Poles once again believed themselves to be the victims of a
campaign of calumnies and insults targeted at their reputation. As that the thread
of Jewish passivity during the Holocaust appeared in the public debate over
“Shoah”, the heritage of March ’68 turned out to be alive.372
Thanks to the collective effort of journalists and writers, a negative interpre-
tation of the film “Shoah” emerged and probably dominated the social percep-
tion of the movie. Before the Polish broadcast of the film, there were very few
articles that offered alternative reviews and showed Lanzmann’s work in a dif-
ferent light. The exceptions to the rule were Jerzy Tomaszewski’s articles in
“Polityka” and Artur Sandauer’s texts in the same weekly, although some reser-
vations could be made as regards the latter. Both authors had seen the film,
which already distinguished them from most critics. Moreover, both criticised
Lanzmann for his self-flattery, arrogance and reckless public statements. How-
ever, their review of the film was positive. Artur Sandauer admitted he had seen
it three times and each time he found Lanzmann’s picture shocking.373 Jerzy
Tomaszewski mentioned the tension that had accompanied him while watching
the film, which, he believed, proved “the artistic success of the director”. He
pointed out, however, that the film was not free of “obvious inaccuracies.”374
Unlike Sandauer, he confined himself to this one statement.
The writings of Artur Sandauer included accusations against the film, which
mainly referred to neglecting the topic of the Polish Righteous. Thus, his objec-
tions overlapped with what the press was publishing at the time. Public state-
ments by Lanzmann and French press articles also went under Sandauer’s blade
of criticism. Sandauer suggested that the director “let himself be used as a tool
in a game which is not quite clean” and was under the influence of the press
campaign that was evoked by his film, which was aimed at “the whole of Poland
and was a part of contemporary Western policy towards us.”375 In other words,
Sandauer joined the choir of those who announced a hostile campaign aimed at
Poles.
On the other hand, Adam Krzemiński and Jan Rem, whose articles were also
published in “Polityka”, said nothing positive about Lanzmann’s film. Jan Rem
– in fact Jerzy Urban, the government spokesman who used this pseudonym –
criticised the picture most of all for the director’s choice of Polish witnesses. He
accused Lanzmann of allowing only “not very enlightened people” to speak and
presenting “an intellectual ground floor, if not a basement, of the building of
Polish society”. Similarly to Adam Krzeńmiński, he reproached Lanzmann with
bias, criticised the director for ignoring Polish help to Jews and subjecting the
whole film to a theory that implied that Poles had also been responsible for the
Holocaust. Urban accused Lanzmann of forgery, whitewashing the Nazis, a lack
of knowledge of Polish history and “anti-Polish intentions.”376 Adam
Krzemiński, who, unlike Urban, had not seen “Shoah”, stated that the director
“feeds his film, in cold blood, on the Polish complex of many Jews; not only to
equate Polish peasants with executors but also to ignore Polish help.”377
However, it was Jerzy Urban and Artur Sandauer who spoke out about the
necessity of showing the film to a Polish audience. While Urban’s intentions
were quite particular378, Artur Sandauer called for a national debate over “Sho-
ah” and anti-Semitism. “To silence the debate over ‘Polish anti-Semitism’,
which is unleashed from time to time in Western Europe, let us unleash it our-
selves” – Sandauer wrote. “Let us act similarly toward Lanzmann’s film! In-
stead of letting others discuss our drawbacks, let us discuss them on our own!
Let us cease to be an insular country that is not easily influenced by the opinions
of outsiders! Let us not allow others to use our understatements and embarrass-
ments! Let us get Lanzmann’s film and unleash a debate over it.”379
On 30 October 1985, right after the prime time newscast, Polish television
broadcast several large excerpts of the over nine-hour film “Shoah” that con-
cerned Polish bystanders of the Holocaust; that is, the fragments that brought the
most intense emotions. The full version could be seen in few cinemas. Thus, the
majority of Polish viewers saw the version truncated according to its relevance
to a Polish audience and deprived of context, which must have influenced its
reception and reviews. In addition, the press campaign that had been running for
several months had already defined the film as controversial, seditious and in-
famous.
Immediately after the broadcast there was a debate in the TV studio. Fran-
ciszek Ryszka, Andrzej Grzegorczyk, Andrzej Wasilewski, Kazimierz Kąkol,
Krzysztof Teodor Toeplitz and Szymon Szurmiej, a director of the Jewish Thea-
tre, commented on Lazmann’s picture. According to press articles, opinions pre-
sented in the studio did not falsify the objections against Lanzmann that had
been raised earlier. Many of these accusations were repeated, for instance the
non-representative, biased choice of Polish interviewees (only “primitive peo-
ple”), or the fact of ignoring the Polish Righteous. Another repeated accusation
was that the film “Shoah” had been made according to a predetermined thesis
and that it had seriously deformed the history of Poland and its contemporary
image. The TV debate resulted in a polemic in “Polityka”, in which Andrzej
Grzegorczyk and Krzysztof Teodor Toeplitz, arguing about Polish-Jewish past,
formulated a few risky statements. The debate, however, avoided the main con-
tent of the film and focussed more on general topics.380
378 Jerzy Urban clearly stated that broadcasting of Lanzmann’s film in Poland could initiate
a debate on anti-Semitism in the Polish Catholic Church; see: J. Rem, Szpetni i dzicy,
“Polityka” 3 VIII 1985, p. 7.
379 A. Sandauer, “Shoah” a sprawa polska, “Polityka” 3 VIII 1985, p. 5.
380 See: A. Grzegorczyk, Kwestia żydowska, “Polityka” 16 XI 1985, p. 6; K. Teodor Toe-
plitz, To jest kwestia ideologiczna, “Polityka” 30 XI 1985, p. 7; Z. Kałużyński, Odma-
wiam przebaczenia, “Polityka” 7 XII 1985, p. 7; A. Grzegorczyk, Może się dogadamy?,
“Polityka” 21-27 XII 1985, p. 7 (a polemic article, See: I. Nowakowska, Jeszcze
o “kwestii żydowskiej”, “Więź” 1986, no 7-8, p. 94-101.)
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 113
Kałużyński did not agree that Lanzmann had planned to make a film about
Polish anti-Semitism. If he had pursued such a goal, he could have presented the
Kielce pogrom in his film, or other anti-Semitic acts. Instead, Lanzmann took up
the challenge of describing the organised process of the Holocaust. Kałużyński
also noted that Poles who appeared in the film usually expressed their grief
about the tragedy that had happened before their eyes. Only a minority of Polish
witnesses manifested antipathy towards Jews. Thus, Kałużyński believed the
insinuations about Lanzmann presenting Poles as satisfied with the Holocaust
and giving their silent consent to it to be untrue. At the same time, he firmly
stated that it was not Lanzmann’s fault that the eyewitnesses of the Holocaust
“had not been a refined society or professors from a seminary, as the train to
Treblinka had not been passing next to a university.”386
Underground Press also joined the debate over “Shoah”. “Aneks” quarterly
published a highly favourable review of the film written by Timothy Garton
Ash, who, referring to the opinion of John Paul II, commented on the “great
moral effect” of the film.387 He did not, however, spare critical comments and
disapproved of Lanzmann’s awkward public statements that had influenced the
reception of his work. He also referred to common objections made against the
film. Garton Ash noted that “the Polish part is historically secondary”, because
Poles “were neither the executioners nor the main victims in the extermination
camps—Lanzmann’s subject.”388 Garton Ash, however, was probably wrong in
this aspect. The role of bystanders was not belittled in the film and the Holo-
caust was reconstructed by the director from the perspective of victims, perpe-
trators and witnesses. On the other hand, he was right in saying that “Shoah does
not make a historical argument about the Poles and the Holocaust, in the way
that it clearly does make a historical argument about the extermination pro-
cess”.389 Zygmunt Kałużyński expressed an analogous opinion, noting that
Lanzmann’s intention (as was claimed by the director himself) was not “(...)
dealing with pogroms, persecutions, Jewish suffering over generations due to
spontaneous impulses of hatred – but the organised, institutionalised, bureau-
cratic extermination committed by Nazism.”390
Timothy Garton Ash also dismissed the accusations that Lanzmann’s con-
cealments were believed to distort the history of occupied Poland. The key
counterargument was obviously the clearly specified topic of the film. Moreo-
ver, as Garton Ash noted, Lanzmann did not mention other issues that were es-
sential for the complete image of the Polish-Jewish pre-war past, such as the
criminal Poles who blackmailed Jews (szmalcowniks) or the Polish “blue police”
(Granatowa Policja). He also did not include quotations from Kazimierz Bran-
dys’s “Warsaw Diary” of the reprehensible things people in “Aryan Warsaw”
were saying. Furthermore, there is no merry-go-round391 from Czesław Miłosz’s
“Campo di Fiori” and the complex issues the poem evokes.392 This Lanzmann
did not say, because his film is concerned with something completely different.
There is another finding by Timothy Garton Ash that is worth attention. He
notes that “we recognise the nationalism of the conqueror. But there is also a
nationalism of the victim that Poles and Jews seem to have in common. Charac-
teristic for the nationalism of the victim is a reluctance to acknowledge in just
measure the sufferings of other peoples, and an inability to admit that the victim
can also victimise”.393 This rule is confirmed in almost all debates over the
Polish-Jewish past, when the “reluctance to acknowledge” is demonstrated in
the power of psychological repression, relativism and denial. In the same issue
of “Aneks”, Israel Shakak394 and Włodzimierz Goldkorn also published their
texts. Instead of their detailed analysis, I will only present one, but it is a very
firm declaration by Goldkorn: “Accusations against Poles of their indifference
towards the Holocaust are justified. Lanzmann’s film perfectly documents the
indifference and lack of understanding of what happened. However, assuming
that passivity is active compliance in crime is a mistake.”395 Those who made
such an assumption were the majority of Polish journalists who debated over the
film, their French counterparts who drew far-reaching conclusions, and
Lanzmann himself, as his public statements could suggest he considered it true.
Attentive viewing of “Shoah”, however, gives no reason to think so.
The debate over Lanzmann’s film in Poland had two essential parts: before
and after the television broadcasting. In the first stadium, not many participants
saw the film at all; in the second, just as few wanted to prove their first opinion
right. In addition, the director’s reckless statements and commentaries in the
French press seriously hindered the debate and made it go off-track. Still, there
were also important and brave voices in the debate, which substantially differed
from the dominating review and interpretation of the film. The very fact that
Polish television broadcasted fragments of “Shoah” was significant for the pro-
391 In his poem, Miłosz described the merry-go-round in Krasiriski Square, which did not
stop during the outbreak of the ghetto uprising that heralded its final liquidation.
392 T. Garton Ash, op. cit., p. 49.
393 Ibidem, p. 42.
394 I. Shahak, Normalność w nieludzkim świecie, “Aneks” 1986, no 41-42, p. 52-66.
395 W. Goldkorn, Sens historii i zagłada Żydów, “Aneks” 1986, no 41-42, p. 71.
116 Chapter II
cess of reconstructing Polish memory about the Holocaust. The Holocaust and
the problem of the attitudes of Poles towards it were in the centre of public at-
tention for a while. Through television – a medium with a wider range of influ-
ence than an underground magazine for intelligentsia – Poles were confronted
with a problem that had been usually disregarded.
Obviously, it would be hard to unequivocally determine whether fragments
of Lanzmann’s film on Polish TV did indeed spark off a heated debate in Polish
society. We do not know whether the film was discussed in “hundreds of thou-
sands of Polish homes”, as Maciej Kozłowski claimed or if it “did not, contrary
to the expectations, invoke passion on a tram, in a queue or in the street”, which
a “Wprost” journalist suggested.”396
It is also difficult to determine what the reception and rating of the film
were. How many Poles responded according to the expectations of propagan-
dists who had been preparing them for their viewing of this film over the previ-
ous months? In other words, to what extent were the authors of the letters to
Polish television representative of Polish society? These questions will remain
unanswered. One thing is certain, however: Lanzmann’s film on Polish TV
managed to break the “area of silence” and directed the process of reconstruct-
ing the memory of the Holocaust into the areas that had not yet been explored.
Not only did the responses to the film reveal empty spaces in Polish memory,
they also outlined a map of suppressed elements in the memory of the witnesses
of Shoah.
396 M. Kozłowski, Zrozumieć, “Ogniwo” 1986, no 25, p. 26; W. Kosiński, Wokół Lan-
zmanna, “Wprost” 1985, p. 31.
397 J. Błoński, Biedni Polacy patrzą na getto, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 11 I 1987, p. 1,4.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 117
proached this sensitive subject, his openness and courage in presenting facts and
opinions, Błoński’s article should definitely be considered groundbreaking.
Thus, it is not surprising that his text and the debate over it are today considered
a symbol of a shift in extracting the difficult Polish-Jewish topics from the dark-
ness of oblivion. The significance of the article can be proven by the fact that, as
Daniel Blatman noted, “it has long been a landmark in the examination of
Polish-Jewish relations.”398
What did Jan Błoński write in 1987 in “Tygodnik Powszechny”? It is im-
possible to summarise the profoundness of his thoughts and the virtuosity of his
style in two sentences. Already in the introduction to his deliberations, Błoński
alluded to Czesław Miłosz’s words, whose two poems, written in the period of
the Nazi occupation, “Campo di Fiori” and “Biedny chrześcijanin patrzy na
getto” [The Poor Christian Looks at the Ghetto] became the key point of refer-
ence and the groundwork for Błoński’s article.399 Even the title of the article re-
ferred to the second of the two poems by Miłosz mentioned above. Mentioning
the poet and employing his words had a symbolic meaning. Ewa Koźmińska-
Frejlak noted that in the romantic tradition it was “poet: the conscience of a na-
tion” who had the power to “notice what has been hidden from the eyes of the
community and his moral dilemmas deserve attention.”400 Thus, Błoński began
his article with Miłosz’s words of the duty of Polish poetry to purge the burden
of guilt from our native soil, which is – in his words – “sullied, blood-stained,
desecrated”.401
It is hard to disagree with Błoński’s words that Miłosz did not mean Polish
blood because “one can only be held accountable for the shedding of blood
which is not one’s own. The blood of one's own kind, when shed by victims of
violence, stirs memories, arouses regret and sorrow, demands respect.”402 Miłosz
also did not mean the blood of the occupier, because “killing when in self-
defence is legally condoned.”403 What he meant was “Jewish blood, the geno-
398 D. Blatman, Were These Ordinary Poles?, “Yad Vashem Studies” 2002, no XXX,
p. 67.
399 Both poems were written by Czesław Miłosz in 1943, during the occupation. They were
published e.g. in the “Ocalenie” volume.
400 E. Koźmińska-Frejlak, Świadkowie Zagłady – Holocaust jako zbiorowe doświadczenia
Polaków, “Przegląd Socjologiczny”, p. 189.
401 All quotations are from Jan Błoński’s essay “The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto”.
Fragments of Czesław Miłosz’s poems and statements are quoted after Jan Błoński.
See: J. Błoński, The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto, http://www.ucis.pitt.edu/eehistory/
H200Readings/Topic4-R1.html
402 Ibidem
403 ibidem
118 Chapter II
cide which – although not perpetrated by the Polish nation – took place on
Polish soil and which has tainted that soil for all time”.404 Not only did Błoński
call to remember the shed Jewish blood that had belonged to the former resi-
dents of the collective Polish home, he also called to cleanse and clarify the
Polish collective memory of Jews and the Holocaust. Memory is at the core of
our identity: “We cannot dispose of it at will, even though as individuals we are
not directly responsible for the actions of the past”, Błoński wrote. “We must
carry it within us even though it is unpleasant or painful”, he added. If, then, the
Jewish blood “has remained in the walls, seeped into the soil” and “has also en-
tered into ourselves, into our memory”, then “we must cleanse ourselves, and
this means we must see ourselves in the light of truth.” This is how Błoński in-
terpreted Miłosz’s words and this was the postulate he formulated in his intro-
duction: without it, “our home, our soil, we ourselves, will remain tainted.” 405
In the later part of his article, Błoński demonstrated how difficult this
cleansing was and what barriers it met on the way. He used a well-known poem
by Czesław Miłosz, “Campo di Fiori”, which depicts the indifference of Polish
society toward the hell of the ghetto residents and about the “dying alone” which
“the poet's word” will bring back to memory. The symbol of this loneliness and
indifference was the merry-go-round in Krasiriski Square, which did not stop
during the outbreak of the ghetto uprising that heralded its final liquidation.406
What Błoński meant, however, was not the actual content of the poem but rather
the mental discomfort of its author. As Czesław Miłosz wrote, the poem was
about “the act of dying from the standpoint of an observer” and hence the poet
considered it “very dishonest”. Błoński agreed with this observation, writing:
“the piece is so composed that the narrator, whom we presume to be the poet
himself, comes off unscathed. Some are dying, others are enjoying themselves,
all that he does is to 'register a protest' and walk away, satisfied by thus having
composed a beautiful poem. And so, years later, he feels he got off too light-
ly.”407
The barriers and difficulties of the already mentioned “cleansing” were il-
lustrated not only by the poet’s dilemma. Błoński demonstrated them mainly by
reconstructing an imaginary conversation between two people about anti-
Semitism and the attitudes of Poles towards the Holocaust. The pattern of the
conversation, constructed by Błoński, was based on almost ritually repeated ar-
404 ibidem
405 ibidem
406 About the symbolism and history of the mrry-go-round, see: T. Szarota, Karuzela na
Placu Krasińskich. Studia i szkice z lat wojny i okupacji, Warszawa 2009.
407 Czesław Miłosz wrote “Campo di Fiori” while witnessing the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising
and its liquidation. These were the events that inspired him.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 119
condemns (or may condemn) the poor Christian. And he would like to hide from
his mole-conscience, as he does not know what to say to him.”
Having said so, Błoński came back to his imaginary conversation about
Polish-Jewish relations, Polish anti-Semitism and the attitude of Poles towards
the Holocaust. He came back to point out that the arguments of the Polish inter-
locutor revealed the same fear that troubled the “Poor Christian”. It was the fear
that he might be counted among the helpers of death by the “guardian mole”.
This fear, according to Błoński, is so strong that we do everything possible not
to let it out, or we dismiss it. It manifests itself in the Polish-Polish and Polish-
Jewish discussions on the subject of anti-Semitism or the Holocaust. If only
some event or fact “puts us in a less-than-advantageous light”, “desperate at-
tempts to minimise it, to explain it away and make it seem insignificant” start to
emerge. This is because we greatly fear accusations. “We fear that the guardian
mole might call to us, after having referred to his book: 'Oh, yes, and you too,
have you been assisting at the death? And you too, have you helped to kill?' Or,
at the very least: 'Have you looked with acquiescence at the death of the Jews?'”
However, anyone who believed that Blonski had accused Poles of complici-
ty in the Holocaust would be wrong. Blonski only wanted to say that we – Poles
– do everything we can not to confront these questions for the sake of our good
name and the good name of our nation. We dismiss them as “unacceptable” alt-
hough they have to be asked. Once they are asked, we have the answers and ra-
tionalisations ready: everything for the sake of our national good name. Analys-
ing Polish-Jewish past, “we want to derive moral advantages from it. (...)We
want to be absolutely beyond any accusation, we want to be completely clean.
We want to be also--and only--victims.” This concern is, however, Błoński con-
tinued, “underpinned by fear--just as in Milosz's poem--and this fear warps and
disfigures our thoughts about the past”, which is “immediately communicated to
those we speak to”. Therefore, “we prefer not to speak of it all” or “we speak of
it only in order to deny an accusation”. It will not be easy, however, to get rid of
the fear of the guardian mole, which is drilling the conscience. Exorcisms will
not help whatsoever. Neither can we get rid of the fear – Błoński noted – “by
forgetting about the past or taking a defensive attitude towards it”. He firmly
stated that “we must face the question of responsibility in a totally sincere and
honest way” although “it is one of the most painful questions that we are likely
to be faced with”. And Błoński did face it. He also postulated that we should
imitate the way the Catholic Church had dealt with their own attitude towards
Jews and stop “haggling, trying to defend and justify ourselves”, “stop arguing
about the things that were beyond our power to do, during the occupation and
beforehand”. We must stop, Błoński demanded, and “place blame on political,
social and economic conditions”. We must honestly answer the question: did
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 121
Poles jointly and severally help Jews during the Holocaust when the Nazis were
killing them in front of their eyes? How many were quietly satisfied? How many
helped the occupiers? How much did the pre-war anti-Semitism influence later
indifference? We must frankly answer these questions and many others, such as
those concerning the postwar violence experienced by the Holocaust survivors
in Poland. In other words, according to Błoński: “instead of haggling and justi-
fying ourselves, we should first consider our own faults and weaknesses. This is
the moral revolution that is imperative when considering the Polish-Jewish past.
It is only this that can gradually cleanse our desecrated soil.” Thus, Błoński pos-
tulated that we should acknowledge and confess our blame. He also asked him-
self the question that the guardian mole prompted: "Full responsibility? Also a
shared responsibility for the genocide?”
Błoński’s answer was partly close to Karl Jasper’s idea of “metaphysical
guilt” that he presented in his famous essay: “The question of German guilt” –
but only partly. Błoński did not say anything about Polish complicity and none
of his words entitles the reader to draw such conclusions. He spoke, however, of
our “shared responsibility”. Here is what he exactly said:
My answer is this: participation and shared responsibility are not the same
thing. One can share the responsibility for the crime without taking part in it.
Our responsibility is for holding back, for insufficient effort to resist. Which of
us could claim that there was sufficient resistance in Poland? It is precisely be-
cause resistance was so weak that we now honour those who did have the cour-
age to take this historic risk. It may sound rather strange, but I do believe that
this shared responsibility, through failure to act, is the less crucial part of the
problem we are considering. More significant is the fact that if only we had be-
haved more humanely in the past, had been wiser, more generous, then genocide
would perhaps have been 'less imaginable', would probably have been consider-
ably more difficult to carry out, and almost certainly would have met with much
greater resistance than it did. To put it differently, it would not have met with
the indifference and moral turpitude of the society in whose full view it took
place.
According to Błoński, this shared responsibility does not relate only to Poles
but also to all Europeans and the whole Christian world. Shared responsibility is
our common responsibility. However, it falls on Poles in particular, for it was in
Poland where the greatest number of Jews lived and where the main arena of the
Holocaust was located by the Nazis, which consequently made Poles direct wit-
nesses. Therefore, Błoński wrote of himself and his countrymen: “we had the
greatest moral obligation towards the Jewish people. Whether what was de-
manded of us was or was not beyond our ability to render, God alone must judge
122 Chapter II
and historians will continue to debate. But, for us, more than for any other na-
tion, Jews were more of a problem, a challenge that we had to face”.
Almost at the end of his article, Jan Blonski, who called the Polish pre-war
anti-Semitism “particularly virulent” asked yet another important question: did it
lead us to participate in genocide? The negative answer he gave finished the ar-
ticle and was as crucial as the idea of shared responsibility that Błoński outlined.
Here is what he wrote at the end:
No. Yet, when one reads what was written about Jews before the war, when one dis-
covers how much hatred there was in Polish society, one can only be surprised that
words were not followed by deeds. But they were not (or very rarely). God held
back our hand. Yes, I do mean God, because if we did not take part in that crime, it
was because we were still Christians, and at the last moment we came to realize
what a Satanic enterprise it was. This still does not free us from sharing responsibil-
ity. The desecration of Polish soil has taken place and we have not yet discharged
our duty of seeking expiation. In this graveyard, the only way to achieve this is to
face up to our duty of viewing our past truthfully.
These long quotations from Błoński’s article, as well as their detailed analysis
were intended to demonstrate the ground-breaking status of the essay, which
was published in 1987. It was ground-breaking because Błoński bravely raised a
moral problem that was important for Poles and offered a completely new way
of discourse related to Polish-Jewish relations; his article became a catalyst for
the process of reconstruction of Polish collective memory about Jews and the
Holocaust. This was because the author went far beyond schematic rules of the
propagandist public discourse and changed the direction of the debate. He nei-
ther accused nor defended. He never accused Poles of complicity in the Holo-
caust, which happens sometimes in the West, but neither did he limit his consid-
erations to an apotheosis of the Polish Righteous. He did not give a false impres-
sion that most Poles provided aid to Jews. He also did not try to hide the indif-
ference of Polish bystanders behind the trees of Yad Vashem. In addition, he
never depicted the image of the pre-war Poland as a Polish-Jewish idyll and
heaven for Jews. In short, Błoński did not soothe the national conscience by say-
ing the Jewish problem did not exist as Polish problem.
On the contrary, the author pointed at the moral significance of the attitudes
of Poles to the Holocaust and to Jews, before and after the war. “The Poor Poles
Look at the Ghetto” leaves no doubt that dealing with the moral problem recog-
nised by Błoński, which had not been discussed or analysed, poses a significant
challenge for Polish society to face. Hence, Błoński’s language – which Michał
Głowiński noted twenty years later – was “neither the language of accusation
nor of apology (...) nor the language of a polemic with accusations nor polemic
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 123
with apology. (...) He consequently used the language of morality to discuss the
problem of Polish-Jewish relations.”408
The “language of morality”, proposed by Jan Błoński, and the content of
“The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto”, written in this language, met diverse so-
cial response. Since then, Błoński’s attitude and perspective have had epigones
as well as critics, who consider the essay to be an example of detrimental histor-
ical determinism. As one can easily guess, almost immediately after its publica-
tion, in January 1987, those who regarded the taboo-breaking article as unjust,
unfair and seditious spoke with a loud voice. This was also the tone of opinions
expressed in the official communist press. The journalists who formulated them
unanimously repeated almost all of the accusations that had earlier been made
against Lanzmann for his film “Shoah” and Jan Józef Lipski for his essay “Two
Fatherlands, two Patriotisms”.
Leaving their detailed reconstruction aside, it is enough to say that Błoński’s
essay was first of all seen as departing from the historical truth, undermining the
difficulty of living conditions under the Nazi occupation, belittling their martyr-
dom and disregarding the heroism of Poles who commonly provided aid to
Jews. Critics noted that the image of Polish-Jewish relations, which had been
good for years – Poland had been the mythical Paradisus Judaeorum – was
completely falsified in the article. Błoński was accused of burdening Poles with
the responsibility for the Holocaust and thus favouring West German “revanch-
ists” who, according to the propagandist enunciations, still wished to classify
Poles as the perpetrators of the Holocaust. Additionally, the word “anti-Polish”
was endlessly repeated in the public discourse and became a very useful term to
describe the crime of the author and his work.
It was not the communist press that became the main arena of the very emo-
tive discussion that Błońki’s essay had provoked. The debate was held mainly in
the Catholic press, mostly in “Tygodnik Powszechny” weekly, which had pub-
lished “The Poor Poles”. After publication, many letters arrived to the editorial
office, which inclined the chief editor, Jerzy Turowicz, to state that no other
problem had evoked such a lively response.409 Needless to say, from all the let-
ters sent to “Tygodnik Powszechny”, not each and every opinion was published.
Moreover, not every author agreed with the content of “The Poor Poles”. Ac-
cording to Jerzy Turowicz, who recapitulated the discussion, the majority of let-
ters and articles expressed “a critical stance towards Błoński’s statements”. 410
408 M. Głowiński, Esej Błońskiego po latach, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2006,
no 2, p. 15-16.
409 J. Turowicz, Racje polskie i racje żydowskie, “Tygodni Powszechny” 5 IV 1987, p. 1.
410 Ibidem
124 Chapter II
411 All the quotations can be found in the article and the editorial: W. Siła-Nowicki, Janowi
Błońskiemu w odpowiedzi, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 22 II 1987, p. 3.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 125
“maintain their separateness”, “create their own community" and love it more
"than the host community." They also had to care about the interests of this
community in the first place if they wanted to ensure its duration and continuity.
Siła-Nowicki “knew from experience” that there had been hardly any anti-
Semitism in pre-war Poland and that Jews had immaculate living conditions. He
also never came across the venomously anti-Semitic journalism that Błoński had
described. Although Siła-Nowicki admitted there had been incidents of feuds, he
also claimed they had resulted from the great number of Jews and the conflict of
interest. He denied the words of Błoński, who said that Jews had been treated as
“second category citizens”, and maintained that their situation had been very
good. For instance, Jews dominated wholesale and retail trade, controlled “a
disproportionate part of wealth”, and had better access to education than city
citizens: the percentage of Jews with secondary and tertiary education was high-
er than the percentage of educated Poles (in relation to the number of Jews and
Poles respectively). Jews also dominated certain professions, particularly those
relating to law (barristers) and medicine (doctors).
According to Władysław Siła-Nowicki, all the above-mentioned facts must
have inevitably led to conflicts and indeed they did. The author was “disgusted”
at the anti-Semitic incidents at Polish universities, ghetto benches, numerus
clausus and numerus nullus, but, as he stated, they were only “a frolic, child’s
play” in comparison to what was happening in Germany at the time. Besides,
one could end up “in the can” for such behaviour. By the way, Siła-Nowicki
considered these discriminatory practices as somehow “natural” for “a society to
defend itself against the numerical domination of its intelligentsia”. In other
words, according to the author, these incidents had not stemmed from anti-
Semitism but necessary defence and national instinct for self-preservation.
When the Nazi occupation started, Polish and Jewish communities had not
been living together but next to each other. According to Siła-Nowicki, this was
a result of the Jewish tradition of integrism and isolationism, which they had
cultivated after hundreds of years of living in diaspora. The author added that
the two communities adopted two completely different attitudes towards the oc-
cupier. Poles created an underground state, devoted themselves to active, mili-
tary resistance against the Nazi, and, full of dedication, gave their lives for their
country. Jews, on the other hand, were failed by their own self-preservation in-
stinct as they sought rescue in passiveness and submission to the restrictions im-
posed by the occupiers. They did not shoot at Germans or at Jewish police in
ghettos; they did not attempt to escape, being escorted from “this town or anoth-
er” to railways stations “by a few, sometimes six, sometimes four guards armed
with ordinary rifles”. The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was their only heroic act.
Jewish passiveness, according to the author, was “the first and key obstacle that
126 Chapter II
prevented Poles from helping Jews”. Nevertheless, even if Poles could hardly do
anything to help Jews, they did everything they possibly could.
In sum, Władysław Siła-Nowicki regarded all of Błoński’s statements as un-
justified and he rejected the “language of morality” proposed by the critic. He
copied the same defensive stand of the imaginary, schematic dialogue described
and undermined by Błoński in his essay “The Poor Poles...” Not only did Siła-
Nowicki not notice anything inappropriate or incriminating about pre-war anti-
Semitism, he even claimed it had never existed. He also denied the indifference
of the majority of Polish society towards the Holocaust, arguing that we helped
Jews as much as we could. In contrast to Błoński, who never attempted to
soothe national conscience but called for examination of it, the words of Siła-
Nowicki confirmed the Polish conviction that their nation was immaculate. “I
am proud”, he wrote, “of my nation’s stance in every respect during the period
of occupation and in this I include the attitude towards the tragedy of the Jewish
nation. Obviously, attitudes towards the Jews during that period do not give us a
particular reason to be proud, but neither are they any grounds for shame, and
even less for ignominy. Simply, we could have done relatively little more than
we actually did, including the attitude to the tragedy of the Jewish nation.”
Those who should be ashamed, according to Władysław Siła-Nowicki, were the
Jews from the United States, who remained passive and indifferent in the face of
the horror experienced by their brothers, and not the Poles who struggled, suf-
fered and gave aid to Jews to the best of their abilities. Siła-Nowicki eagerly ap-
preciated the war martyrdom of his own nation and accused Błoński of depicting
only its alleged flaws and defects while ignoring its suffering and heroism.
The polemic article of Władysław Siła-Nowicki, an educated man, a barris-
ter in political trials and a declared anti-communist was (and still is) an illustri-
ous example of the stereotypical thinking about Polish-Jewish topics. Its content
clearly shows how deeply and strongly these stereotypes have been rooted in
mentality and language; how significantly they influence the way people think
about these issues. It also demonstrates that education does not impregnate the
immensity of this influence.
Needless to say, the language used by Władysław Siła-Nowicki was not
new. It belonged to the repertoire of the nationalist Right, who had spoken it
particularly loudly in the interwar period. Siła-Nowicki had then made a name
for himself as a journalist of the “Prosto z mostu” magazine, which had not
avoided anti-Semitic content. However, it is easy to notice that his style and ar-
guments corresponded with the nationalistic and anti-Semitic tone in which the
communists had used when referring to the Polish-Jewish themes, and which
had been present in the public discourse for some time. However, Władysław
Siła-Nowicki was never influenced by the corrupting communist propaganda.
“Poor Poles” look at “Shoah” 127
Michał Głowiński brilliantly noted that although the author “wrote according to
rules shaped by the nationalist Right, he used his own language” and did not
need to borrow from anyone. On the contrary, it was communist authorities
who, for some time, had been taking over “the rules of the rightist discourse and,
consequently, its obligatory thinking patterns”. In other words, the style and ar-
guments used by Władysław Siła Nowicki were very similar to what the official
press was publishing at the time because communists had taken over the rhetoric
that was typical for nationalist thought”.412
Siła-Nowicki’s article met with a favourable response from the majority of
the readers of “Tygodnik Powszechny”, who wrote letters to the weekly ex-
pressing their opinion on the matter. The 180 letters sent by the readers were
analysed by Ewa Koźmińska-Frejlak in her master thesis. The authors were usu-
ally well educated and for various reasons interested in the subject of Polish-
Jewish relations during and after the war. Koźmińska-Frejlak divided the letters
into two categories: “pro-Błoński” and “pro-Siła-Nowicki” and demonstrated
significant differences between the authors’ perspectives regarding Polish-
Jewish relations during the Nazi occupation. Błoński’s advocates accepted the
language of morality and ethic that he had proposed. They perceived the Holo-
caust as a singular and unprecedented event in the history of humankind. They
were also ready to acknowledge and confess the Polish guilt related to Jews, and
never denied it. They agreed with the image of the Polish-Jewish past presented
by Błoński. The protagonists of Władysław Siła-Nowicki, on the other hand,
took a completely different approach. It is important to note, however, that this
group was less homogenous and the argumentation (or its style) varied to some
extent. Nevertheless, they mostly refused to acknowledge Shoah as a particular
or distinctive event. Moreover, they interpreted Błoński’s essay as anti-Polish
and dangerous for the Polish reason of state. They strongly rejected the supposi-
tions and arguments of the author and disagreed with his key conclusion. In ad-
dition, they presented a completely different image of the Polish-Jewish past.
They also took the defensive position that Błoński had criticised when he wrote:
“instead of haggling and justifying ourselves, we should first consider our own
faults and weaknesses”.413
Siła-Nowicki’s text met with a critical response from other participants in
the debate held by “Tygodnik Powszechny” on Błońki’s essay. Suffice to say
complicity and the sin of omission. Warlewska finally decided on the latter.419
Ewa Berbyreusz took a similar position, thanking Błoński for making her realise
her complicity with more clarity. She finished: “I accept the message of the arti-
cle: let us stop haggling about extenuating circumstances, let us stop arguing and
bow our heads instead.”420
The article that finished the debate over Jan Błoński’s essay in “Tygodnik
Powszechny” was Jerzy Turowicz’s “Racje polskie i racje żydowskie” [“Polish
arguments and Jewish arguments”]. The chief editor summarised the main
threads of the discussion, which included readers’ letters. At the same time,
Turowicz did not avoid presenting his own opinion about Błoński’s article,
which he regarded as “not only right but also very necessary”. He disagreed
with the accusations of its “anti-Polish” character and defended its main argu-
ments. In addition, he explained the meaning of the term “shared responsibility”
used by Błoński, which had been often wrongly interpreted as acknowledging
Polish complicity in the Holocaust. Turowicz also denied the sameness of the
war fate of Poles and Jews, which had been often suggested and not only in this
particular debate. He did not share Siła-Nowicki’s peace of mind regarding the
non-existence of pre-war anti-Semitism and that Poles did everything they could
to help Jews.
However, Turowicz also had reservations regarding Błoński’s words: “if we
did not take part in that crime [the Holocaust – author’s note], it was because we
were still Christians”, God held back our hand”. Turowicz considered these
words to be an unfair and undeserved accusation, because, he stated, “Despite
everything, there was no possibility of our complicity in the genocide. However,
it does not mean that the problem of shared responsibility did not exist”.421 By
the way, Jan Błoński explained a few times that he acknowledged his mistake
for using metaphors to describe a sensitive matter instead of formulating his
thought precisely.
This one and only bone of contention did not influence the general, high
opinion of Turowicz regarding “The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto”. Turowicz
was in fact one of the most devoted advocates of Jan Błoński in the course of the
debate. Closing the debate in “Tygodnik Powszechny” Turowicz wrote: “and if
our whole discussion contributes to a collective examination of conscience, to
rejection of the belief that since we were victims we are innocent, if it helps to
deepen our moral sensitivity, it will mean this discussion was necessary. The
change of mentality and attitudes achieved in this way and the new awareness of
the problem will help to develop Polish-Jewish dialogue. The aim will be better
communication, elimination of prejudice and misunderstandings. (...) That is
why – despite the claims of some of our readers – we will sometimes write
about the Polish-Jewish and Christian-Jewish problems in ‘Tygodnik
Powszechny’”.422
As Antony Polonsky noted, “Jan Błońskis’s article ‘The Poor Poles Look at
the Ghetto’ sparked off what has certainly been the most profound discussion
since 1945 of the Holocaust in Poland.423 It demonstrated how deeply the anti-
Semitic clichés and the stereotypes about Polish-Jewish relations were rooted in
the Polish language. It also revealed serious distortions of Polish collective
memory, which had established themselves over the previous decades. In other
words, the debate disclosed the “hidden complex of the Polish mind”, as An-
drzej Bryk called the difficult “Jewish question”;424 it revealed what it was and
where it was located. At the same time, it demonstrated that few members of the
Polish intelligentsia were able to speak the language proposed by Błoński and
respond to the challenge of the “moral revolution” he postulated, cease the nev-
er-ending haggling and bidding and “consider our own faults and weaknesses.”
Apparently, the Polish intelligentsia were not yet prepared for such a step, alt-
hough the first wise and important voices could be heard. One way or another,
Jan Błoński started a debate on the shared moral responsibility of the Polish na-
tion regarding the Holocaust. Thus, he was the first to expose himself to attacks
and judgements by the “true Poles”, whose rhetoric, in its unmodified version,
makes itself felt even today whenever the topic of the difficult Polish-Jewish
past appears in a public debate. Błoński’s essay undoubtedly has been essential
for the modern history of our conscience.
***
The last decade of the People’s Republic of Poland included various attempts to
break the long and bothersome silence on Jews, the Holocaust and the Polish-
Jewish past. One could notice manifestations of this complex process of
memory reconstruction in bookshops, where academic literature on the subject,
memoirs of the Holocaust survivors and books evoking the pre-war world of
Polish Jews appeared on the shelves. To some degree, the state’s monopoly on
the organisation of the commemorations of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was
425 A. Budzyński, Potrzeba innej odwagi, “Trybuna” 24-25 III 2001, p. 14.
Chapter III
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne
426 J. T. Gross, Sąsiedzi. Historia zagłady żydowskiego miasteczka, Sejny 2000 [English:
Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland, first pub-
lished: 2001, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press]
427 S. Sierakowski, Chcemy innej historii, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 11 VI 2003, p. 15.
428 See: C. Perechodnik, Czy ja jestem mordercą?, Warszawa 1995.
134 Chapter III
to outlive other members of his family by two years, “lived through the Warsaw
Uprising, when the AK [Polish resistance Home Army] and the NSZ [National
Armed Forces] wiped out many survivors of the ghetto.”429 These unsettling
words reached their readers a few months before the planned commemorations
of the 50th anniversary of the Warsaw Uprising and sparked a very strong re-
sponse. Numerous readers expressed their indignation in letters, often in an anti-
Semitic tone, sent to the editorial office of “Gazeta Wyborcza”. Cichy’s words
were considered a lie, an insult to the memory of the insurgents, and above all,
an attack on one of the key events of the Polish “historical canon” which held a
place of honour in the collective memory of Poles.
In response to the wave of protests, the editors of “Gazeta Wyborcza” de-
scribed Michał Cichy’s words as an “unacceptable generalisation”.430 Answering
to these accusations, Cichy published an article in “Gazeta Wyborcza” in which
he presented all the documents and testimonies on which he based his “unac-
ceptable generalisation” (for which he also apologised). However, in his article,
“Poles and Jews: Black Pages in the Annals of the Warsaw Uprising", the author
demonstrated that during the uprising, AK soldiers murdered around 20-30
Jews.431 The article, prefaced by Adam Michnik432, evoked a stormy debate, not
only among readers of “Gazeta Wyborcza”, but also by readers of other Polish
newspapers.433 As the psychologist Michał Bilewicz aptly noted: “It was the
biggest blow struck at the social memory, cultivated by Poles, of the occupation
years”, and at the “sanctum sanctorum of Polish national identity”.434 As it turns
out, Cichy’s text and the discussion over it were a “dress rehearsal” for the
stormy debate on the Jedwabne massacre.435 Undeniably, it was the first public
debate in which the Polish nation faced a new role, which was not about con-
templating the wrongs done to the Polish nation as cultivated in Polish historiog-
raphy: not the role of victims, but perpetrators who murdered Jews during the
Holocaust.
The debate about Cichy’s article is different from the debate over the Jed-
wabne massacre because of the completely different character and scale of the
events and, in particular, because of the limited scope and short duration of the
former debate. Nonetheless, the debate did happen and the defenders of Poland’s
good name had a good chance to mobilise while Michał Cichy, the young adept
of history, “the teacher of life”, was subjected to the criticism of experienced
and respected historians and learnt how high the price is for an “untimely” pub-
lication in Poland.436
There is also a supplement to this story. Very unexpectedly, after 13 years,
Michał Cichy decided to apologise for his article. “I Apologise to the Insur-
gents”, published in the Christmas edition of the “Gazeta Wyborcza” daily, not
only withdrew from some of his previous claims, but also expressed a form of
self-criticism.437 The content of this intriguing confession caused nothing less
than astonishment and confusion among those who considered his original arti-
cle and the debate over it to be a symbol of courage and honesty in Polish dis-
course on the disgraceful attitudes of Poles toward Jews during the Holocaust.
Krzysztof Dunin-Wąsowicz could not hide his amazement, pointing out that the
author “need not have apologised” because the murders of Jews during the Up-
rising “were facts”.438 Neither could Helena Datner, who commented on the au-
thor’s confession in an issue of “Midrasz” magazine devoted to this apology: “it
increases the feeling of hopelessness if the author draws unexpected conclusions
from his own, dramatically true diagnosis of the situation and while apologising
to some [insurgents – author’s note], he sentences others [Jews – author’s note]
to non-existence”.439
There were some readers, however, who welcomed this apology with enthu-
siasm, as if it were the return of the prodigal son who finally understood that
436 Joanna Tokarska-Bakir paid attention to it in her brilliant critique regarding “the re-
sponsibility of Polish historians for what Poles do not know about the Holocaust”.
According to Tokarska-Bakir, this responsibility concerns, above all, “the sin of omis-
sion, which may be a consequence of the historians’ innate caution, discouraging them
from certain topics (...) Historian, as well as every other academician, above all wants to
be ‘serious’. ‘Serious’ in Poland means ‘uncontroversial’. The uncontroversial Polish
historian looks with indulgence at those who are in a hurry”. J. Tokarska-Bakir, Rzeczy
mgliste. Eseje i studia, Sejny 2004, p.14.
437 See M. Cichy, Przepraszam powstańców, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 23 XII 2006, p. 16;
Michał Cichy justified his decision to make a public apology and self-criticise in an in-
terview given to Stanisław Tekieli, See: Z Michałem Cichym rozmawia Stanisław Tekie-
li, “Midrasz” 2007, No. 3, p. 21-24.
438 E. Koźmińska-Frejlak, P. Paziński, Sprawiedliwy z Żoliborza, rozmowa z K. Dunin-
Wąsowiczem, “Midrasz” 2007, No. 1, p. 24
439 H. Datner, O pewnych przeprosinach, “Midrasz” 2007, No. 3, p. 25.
136 Chapter III
national sanctities are not to be sullied. From such a perspective, Piotr Semka
named Cichy’s apology “the best Christmas gift for many Warsaw insur-
gents”.440 The critics of “Gazeta Wyborcza”, who regard the newspaper as
Philo-Semitic or simply Jewish, the opponents of the idea of engaging with the
difficult Polish-Jewish past and ordinary anti-Semites were also given another
present by Cichy: this was the interview that he gave to Cezary Michalski for
the “Dziennik” daily.441 The interview itself and the discussion around it are a
different and more complex story, although Michał Cichy did refer to “The
Black Pages...”, saying: “There is the truth of facts, and the truth of facts is that
all the Jews shot by people with AK and NSZ badges, whom I described, were
shot indeed. But there is also the spiritual and symbolic truth which is as fol-
lows: this text should not have been published in 1994 in the ‘Gazeta Wyborcza’
daily, on the 50th anniversary of the Warsaw Uprising”.442 It was not only
Michał Cichy who learned how high the price for an “untimely” publication in
Poland was. Jan Tomasz Gross also realised that, but fortunately he never apol-
ogised. Incidentally, “Neighbors” was not Gross’ first publication released in
Poland that touched on the problem of the difficult Polish-Jewish past and
sparked off a debate. A selection of essays published a few years before, entitled
“Ghastly decade: Three essays on stereotypes about the Jews, Poles, Germans,
and Communists” in which Gross wrote about the attitudes of Poles towards the
Holocaust, anti-Semitism during the German occupation and the stereotype of
“Jewish communists” [żydokomuna], are still present in Polish minds.443 How-
ever, the discussion about “Ghastly decade” involved only a narrow circle of
intellectuals.444
It was not until the publication of “Neighbors”, which Ilya Prizel found to
be one of the most important events in recent historiography, that a debate was
sparked off, drawing the attention of Polish and international public opinion and
involving numerous participants of different professions.445 Jan Tomasz Gross
had, however, mentioned the Jedwabne massacre in his earlier article published
in a multi-authored book: “Non-provincial Europe”. The book was dedicated to
Prof. Tomasz Strzembosz, who later turned out to be one of the staunchest ad-
versaries of Gross.446
Other historians, journalists and witnesses had also mentioned beforehand
that about 1,600 Jews, citizens of Jedwabne, had been burnt in a barn. Not all of
them, however, pointed at Poles as the direct perpetrators and their reports never
became a subject of public debate and popular accounts.447 The historian Szy-
mon Datner mentioned the Jedwabne massacre in his article published in 1966
in “Biuletyn Żydowskiego Instytutu Historycznego” (“The Jewish History Quar-
terly”) but he avoided answering the question, ‘who carried it out?’448, as did the
authors of a reportage “...aby żyć” [“...in order to live”] published by the “Kon-
takty” weekly on 10 July 1988.449 The answer was provided by the “Yedwabne.
History and Memorial Book” published in 1980 in the USA and Israel, which
included testimonies of the eyewitnesses of the massacre who pointed to Polish
citizens of Jedwabne as the perpetrators.450 It was also signalled in a documen-
tary by Agnieszka Arnold titled: “...Gdzie mój syn najstarszy Kain?” [“Where is
my eldest son, Cain?”], broadcast on Polish public television (TVP 1) on 18
April 1999. The documentary, concerning wartime Polish-Jewish relations, in-
cluded a part about Jedwabne. In her film, Agnieszka Arnold used extensive
quotations from a testimony about the Jedwabne pogrom given by Szmul
Wasersztajn before the Jewish Historical Commission in Bialystok. Agnieszka
Arnold verified the information contained in the testimony by talking to the citi-
zens of Jedwabne who, as it turned out, knew very well about the massacre.451
446 See: J. T. Gross, Lato 1941 w Jedwabnem. Przyczynek do badań nad udziałem społecz-
ności lokalnych w eksterminacji narodu żydowskiego w latach II wojny światowej, [in:]
Europa nieprowincjonalna. Przemiany na ziemiach wschodnich dawnej Rzeczypospoli-
tej, K. Jasiewicz (ed.), Warszawa 1999.
447 A detailed analysis of who, where, when and what wrote or spoke about the Jedwabne
massacre and how it was interpreted has been presented by Tomasz Szarota. See:
T. Szarota, Mord w Jedwabnem. Dokumenty, publikacje i interpretacje z lat 1941-2000,
[in:] Wokół Jedwabnego. Studia, P. Machcewicz, K. Persak (ed.),Warszawa 2002, Vol.
1, p. 461-489.
448 See: Sz. Datner, Eksterminacja ludności żydowskiej w okręgu białostockim, “Biuletyn
Żydowskiego Instytutu Historycznego” 1966, No. 4, p. 3-50.
449 D. i A. Wroniszewscy, ...aby żyć, “Kontakty” 10.VII.1988, p. 6. Quotation after: T. Sza-
rota, Mord w Jedwbnem..., p. 480.
450 Publishing memorial books of this kind, [Yiddish: jizkor-buch], was a particular way for
Landsmanschafts to commemorate killed Jewish townsmen after World War II. The me-
morial book devoted to Jews from Jedwabne is available online: www.jewishgen.org/
Yizkor/Jedwabne [accessed: 10.V.2007].
451 Agnieszka Arnold made a film titled “Neighbors”, which was devoted to the events of
10 July 1941 in Jedwabne. Jan Tomasz Gross used the same title with her consent.
138 Chapter III
452 See: K. Persak, Akta procesu z 1949 roku dwudziestu dwóch oskarżonych o udział
w zbrodni na ludności żydowskiej w Jedwabnem, [in:] Wokół Jedwabnego. Dokumenty...,
p. 415-713; K. Persak, Akta procesu z 1953 roku Józefa Sobuty oskarżonego o udział
w zbrodni na ludności żydowskiej w Jedwabnem, [in:] Wokół Jedwabnego. Dokumenty...,
p. 713-817; K. Persak, Akta śledztwa z lat 1967-1974 prowadzonego przez Okręgową
Komisję Badania Zbrodni Hitlerowskich w Białymstoku w sprawie zbrodni na ludności
żydowskiej w Jedwabnem, [in:] Wokół Jedwabnego. Dokumenty..., p. 817-863.
453 Laureat zawsze cierpi. Nagroda “Nike” 2001, (editorial interview), “Res Publica
Nowa” 2001, No. 10, p. 69.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 139
454 D. Krawczyńska, Prawdy ukryte na powierzchni, “Res Publica Nowa” 2001, No. 1,
p. 89.
455 J. T. Gross, Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland,
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001, p. 87.
456 Ibidem, p. 73, 76, 77.
457 J. T. Gross, Neighbors...., p. 95.
140 Chapter III
that “carts full of people from nearby villages” who found out about the Jed-
wabne pogrom on 10 July 1941, “had been converging on the town since early
dawn” and that probably, “some of these people were veterans of other pogroms
that had recently been carried out in the vicinity.”458 Let us turn, however, to the
culmination of the Jedwabne pogrom.
After the barn was chosen, all Jews brought to the square who were still
alive were driven into it. Beaten and ridiculed by the neighbours who were es-
corting them, the Jews were forced to carry around Lenin’s statue, which was
broken into pieces, and to sing “The war is because of us, the war is for us”. “A
thick crowd” shoved the Jedwabne Jews inside the barn. The barn was doused
with kerosene and lit.459 On that day, Gross claims and the above-mentioned
stone monument confirms, about 1,600 Jews were murdered. Only a few more
than a dozen survived, including seven who were hidden in the nearby Janczewo
by the Wyrzykowski family. Thus, as Gross noted, on 10 July 1941 in Jedwab-
ne, a mass murder took place “in a double sense, on account of both the number
of victims and the number of perpetrators.”460
In the historical part of his book, which reconstructs the events from several
decades ago, Jan Gross raised an important, unavoidable question which (not
without a reason) was the main subject of the debate that followed the publica-
tion of “Neighbors”. Clearly, it is the question of the German presence in Jed-
wabne and their participation in the collective murder of 10 July 1941. On the
basis of available sources, particularly Szmul Wasersztajn’s testimonies, Gross
claimed that on the day of the pogrom or the day before, a few Germans, proba-
bly Gestapo men, arrived in town “by taxi”. Moreover, there was “an outpost of
German gendarmerie, staffed by eleven men”.461 Therefore, on the ill-fated day
there were hardly any Germans in Jedwabne, maybe a few more than a dozen –
at least according to the picture given by Gross’s “Neighbors”.
Jan Tomasz Gross has never denied that “the town council signed some
agreement with the Gestapo”.462 What kind of agreement this was and what it
concerned, we do not know for the lack of reliable sources. It seems, according
to one account that “the municipal authorities were given a certain amount of
time – eight hours (…) to get rid of the Jews as they pleased.”463 But who took
the initiative to commit the mass murder? Clearly, Gross formulated such a
question but he did not find a definitive answer: “Where the initiative came from
representative sample of the Jewish fate but “by a few who were lucky enough
to survive”.479 Gross observes: “it is all skewed evidence, biased in one direc-
tion: these are all stories with a happy ending”.480 In addition, “statements from
witnesses who have not survived – statements that have been interrupted by the
sudden death of their authors, who therefore left only fragments of what they
wanted to say” are also “incomplete”. That is why, Gross notes, “we must take
literally all fragments of information at our disposal”481.
The publication of Gross’s “Neighbors” in May 2000 sparked off the deep-
est and most significant public debate, which Joanna Michlic named “the most
profound battle over the memory of Polish-Jewish relations and the Polish col-
lective self-image.”482 It was compared to the discussion in Germany initiated by
Daniel Goldhagen’s book, “Hitler's Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans
and the Holocaust”483. Andrzej Leder raised a question in “Res Publika Nowa”
journal, “Could the Jedwabne Pogrom be a Polish Dreyfus affair?”484. As a mat-
ter of fact, it was difficult not to notice that the Polish release of “Neighbors”
was a significant editorial and academic event. Also, the debate that it sparked
off became an important social fact that influenced the self-image of Poles and
their attitude towards their own past. It was not only debaters who highlighted it
but also the authors of scholarly analyses of the debate, which were conducted
after the discussion came to an end.485
tute of National Remembrance (IPN), was most discussed and written about. It
was also the time when Leon Kieres, the president of the Institute, presented the
annual IPN report to the Parliament (Sejm) and thereby sparked off a heated par-
liamentary debate. The event of this period most commented upon, however,
was the presentation of the final findings of the IPN investigation by prosecutor
Radosław Ignatiew, who supervised the inquiry. Prosecutor Ignatiew informed
the public opinion about the final findings on 9 July 2002.487
All the threads and events constituting respective stages of the debate will
be developed and described later in this chapter. The analysis of the public de-
bate elicited by “Neighbors” will not, however, follow its chronology or dynam-
ics (although, clearly, it would be difficult to ignore them). I will, rather, analyse
the topics of the debate, present controversial elements and, above all, recon-
struct various standpoints.
I consider the publication of the Polish edition of “Neighbors” in May 2000
as the beginning of the debate and the presentation of the final findings of the
IPN investigation by prosecutor Radosław Ignatiew in July 2002 as its end. In
December 2002, the Institute of National Remembrance published a selection of
documents under the title “Wokół Jedwabnego” (English: “Around Jedwabne”).
This monumental, two-volume publication consisting of studies and documents
became a sort of “white paper” on the Jedwabne pogrom and the outcome of the
finished investigation into this case. 488
Reconstruction of the discussion about Gross’s findings and opinions, which
was held by professional historians, is proposed herein as a starting point of the
analysis of the debate around “Neighbors”. Pointing at important gaps and dis-
tortions in prevailing Polish historiography and postulating radical changes in
the approach to sources, Gross himself provoked them to participate in the de-
bate. It would be difficult to disagree with Tomasz Szarota’s findings, who stat-
ed that however visible the historians’ participation in the debate was, it did not
dominate the discussion – but there are still two reasons why I believe it was
important.489 Firstly, it was historians who, owing to their profession, were con-
sidered by most participants and by the public particularly entitled to be in-
volved in the polemics against Gross and to criticise his book. They were re-
garded as experts with the right competences and academic tools. Besides, as
487 See J. Michlic, Coming to Terms with “Dark Past”: The Polish Debate about the Jed-
wabne Massacre, “Acta. Analysis of Current Trends in Antisemitism” 2002, No. 21,
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, p. 11-13, 22, 19-31.
488 P. Machcewicz, K. Persak, (ed.), Wokół Jedwabnego. Studia, Vol. 1, Warszawa 2002;
P. Machcewicz, K. Persak, (ed.) Wokół Jedwabnego. Dokumenty, Vol. 2, Warszawa
2002.
489 T. Szarota, Debata narodowa o Jedwabnem, “Więź” 2001, No. 4, p. 38.
148 Chapter III
Andrzej Leder aptly noted, it was mostly them who had the power of “reviving
the events” and who could somehow decide “what sort of killer figure would
emerge in front of us here and now”.490 In the end, however, they did not actual-
ly have the power to influence who would be trusted by the participants and the
public and what sort of “killer figure” would appear in front of their eyes.
We thus move towards another argument supporting the significant role of
historians in the debate about the Jedwabne pogrom. Almost every participant
(and probably also the public) had “their own” historian adopting a certain
standpoint on the issue. In addition, the attitudes and intentions of particular his-
torians were evaluated and verified during the debate.
Another area of the analysis of the debate around “Neighbors” is the re-
sponse to the Jedwabne pogrom from other participants in the debate. The
standpoints revealed in the course of the debate can be categorised according to
the characteristic attitudes/narratives of the participants.
The first narrative can be labelled “a moral discourse”. This label is not in
the least accidental – it refers to the groundbreaking and continually discussed
essay “The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto” written by Jan Błoński, the outstand-
ing literary critic. In his essay, Błoński proposed an approach to the troubled his-
tory of Polish-Jewish relations and to anti-Semitism, which promised to change
the prevailing attitude – a never-ending process of listing damages and sorrows,
mutual reproaching for sins and the use various defensive strategies.491 Clearly,
the new attitude proposed by Błoński evoked the necessity of adapting a lan-
guage, which I will call here “the language of morality”. As Michał Głowiński
noticed in his article, Błoński’s essay was written in this very language.492
The attitude of the debaters who spoke this language can be also described
as self-critical or “affirmative”, as Andrzej Paczkowski suggests.493 Affirmative
debaters agreed with Gross, supported the arguments developed in his book and
dismissed the critical remarks concerning “Neighbors” and its author. They
claimed that in the light of revelations of the massacre, factual details and meth-
490 A. Leder, Jedwabne: polska sprawa Dreyfusa?, “Res Publica Nowa”2001, No. 7, s. 16-17.
491 See: J. Błoński, Biedni Polacy patrzą na getto, “Tygodnik Powszechny”, No. 11/I/1987,
p. 1-4.
492 Michal Głowiński commented on the language of Błoński’s essay saying it was “neither
a language of accusation nor a language of apology (...), nor a language of polemics
with accusations nor a language of accusations of the polemics (...). He [Błonski] speaks
about the problem of Polish-Jewish relations and about the Polish view of the Holocaust
in a language of morality”. M. Głowiński, Esej Błońskiego po latach, “Zagłada Żydów.
Studia i materiały” 2006, No. 2, p. 16.
493 A. Paczkowski, Debata wokół “Sąsiadów”: próba wstępnej typologii, “Rzeczpospoli-
ta”, 24 III 2001, p. 16.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 149
odological shortcomings are less important. They placed emphasis on the moral
aspects of revealing the Jedwabne pogrom and the consequences of this revela-
tion for Poles.
The attitude of the debaters who took defensive positions will be a separate
subject of analysis. I call their approach a “defence of the Polish innocence par-
adigm”, while stressing that this stance is not at all homogenous but that there
are significant differences of cognitive perspectives. According to Sławomir
Sierakowski, the Jedwabne question divided debaters and society into “well-
informed citizens” and “humiliated patriots”; however, this seems to be too sim-
ple a bipolarity.494 Both groups had their own divisions and “well-informed citi-
zens” often adopted the positions of “humiliated patriots”.
Therefore, It should be firmly stated that defensive attitudes revealed during
the debate can be divided into two types: moderate and radical defence or mod-
erate and offensive defence. While debaters from the former group usually did
not question the participation of Poles in the Jedwabne pogrom but demonstrat-
ed various extenuating circumstances and searched for them with stronger or
weaker determination, the latter minimised the participation or even called it
into doubt. In addition, they considered Gross’s publication to be a part of a
wider attack against Poland and Poles and they in turn responded with an attack.
They often used anti-Semitic rhetoric and beneath the surface of their formulat-
ed opinions, numerous stereotypes and prejudices were hidden. Discourses cor-
responding to these two defensive attitudes could be respectively named a “yes,
but” and a “no, it’s them” discourse.
The last aspect under consideration will be the debaters’ responses to the two
acts of apology for the Jedwabne massacre. One was initiated by President Ale-
ksander Kwaśniewski and the other by the Cardinal-Primate of Poland, Józef
Glemp; that is, by the highest state and Church officials. Debates and conflicts con-
cerning these events, that is, “reconciliatory practices” as Bjoren Krondorfer would
call them, or “political rituals of atonement” using Hermann Lübbe’s terminolo-
gy,495 will be discussed. As one might expect, the initiatives provoked very diverse
responses and judgements, from total approval to accusations of high treason.
494 S. Sierakowski, Chcemy innej historii, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 11 VI 2003, p. 15; using the
term “well-informed citizens” in inverted commas, Sławomir Sierakowski must have re-
ferred to Alfred Schütz and his essay: The Well-Informed Citizen. An Essay on the So-
cial Distribution of Knowledge, “Social Research”, No. 13/1946, 463-78.
495 See: B. Krondorfer, Remembrance and Reconciliation: Encounters Between Young
Jews and Germans, Yale University Press, New Haven 1995, p. 20; B. Korzeniewski,
Polityczne rytuały pokuty w perspektywie zagadnienia autonomii jednostki, Poznań
2006, p. 19-20; K. Wigura, Wina narodów. Przebaczenie jako strategia prowadzenia
polityki, Gdańsk-Warszawa 2011, p. 35-67.
150 Chapter III
2. Historikerstreit in Polish
Gross’s revelations of the crime committed in Jedwabne and his criticism of the
omissions in prevailing Polish historiography provoked many Polish historians
into a discussion. Although both parts of “Neighbors” were discussed, the way
Gross presented the massacre and its circumstances dominated the debate. The
structure of the debate mirrored the structure of the book and the problems
raised by Gross.
The historians’ dispute obviously had its own trajectory, dynamic and turn-
ing points. It was determined to a large degree by a succession of new discover-
ies, documents and information that appeared during the course of the investiga-
tion into the Jedwabne massacre led by the Institute of National Remembrance
(IPN).496 The results of the investigation were instantly commented upon and
used by the historians. Some of the information and documents, and the prelimi-
nary hypotheses based on them, were subsequently found to be false and
aroused only temporary emotions. Thus, the analysis of the historians’ reactions
to each and every new piece of information would be meaningless.
The greatest influence on the course of this debate stemmed, however, from
the presentation to the public by historians of the professional opinions and stud-
ies of the problem Gross had raised. Besides, it was historians, as experts, who
disputed the methodological construction of “Neighbors” – although they finally
reached agreement on this matter.
The historians’ dispute about “Neighbors” was initiated by the discussion
between Tomasz Szarota and Jan Tomasz Gross in “Gazeta Wyborcza” daily. In
an interview given to Jacek Żakowski, Szarota did not question elementary facts
presented in Gross’s book but considered them shocking, irrefutable and requir-
ing a change in the prevailing “opinions about the attitudes of Poles during
World War II”.497 Consequently, he regarded the publication of “Neighbors” as
496 31 August 2001, the head of the Commission for the Investigation of Crimes Against
the Polish Nation, Witold Kulesza, commissioned the IPN branch in Białostockie to
start an investigation into the Jedwabne massacre. Radosław Ignatiew was appointed
public prosecutor in the case. During the investigation, a few dozen witnesses were ex-
amined, archive materials were analyzed, both Polish (IPN Archive, New Files Archive,
Public Archives in Bialystok, Elk and Łomża, Jewish Historical Institute Archive) and
foreign (Ludwigsburg, Freiburg, Berlin, Jerusalem, Minsk, Grodno); there was also an
exhumation in Jedwabne. Documents and scientific studies related to the investigation
were discussed and published. See: P. Machcewicz, K. Persak (ed.), Wokół Jedwabne-
go. Studia, vol. 1, Warszawa 2002; (Idem), Wokół Jedwabnego. Dokumenty, vol. 2,
Warszawa 2002.
497 J. Żakowski, Diabelskie szczegóły, interview with T. Szarota, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 18-19
XI 2000, p. 10-12.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 151
498 Ibidem.
499 Szarota stated that ““every solid historian” would try to find these documents before
publishing a book, while “Gross as a sociologist and a journalist must have decided it
was not necessary to explain the case”. He also claimed, however, that even if it had
been established that the order to kill Jedwabne Jews had been given by the Germans, it
would not have “devaluated the horrible meaning of the facts” but “significantly modi-
fied them”. J. Żakowski, Diabelskie..., p. 10-12.
152 Chapter III
500 Ibidem.
501 Ibidem.
502 J. T. Gross, Mord “zrozumiały”?, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 25 XI 2000, p. 14, see also:
http://wiez.free.ngo.pl/jedwabne/article/11.html
503 Ibidem.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 153
504 T. Szarota, Czy na pewno już wszystko wiemy?, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 2-3 XII 2000,
p. 21.
154 Chapter III
monies about Polish-Jewish relations under the Soviet rule, particularly those
concerning how the Jews acted at the time.
Much more serious objections, however, concerned the sources Gross had
actually used but which were almost unanimously discredited by his critics.
Tomasz Strzembosz, as well as Marek Jan Chodakiewicz, Piotr Gontarczyk and
Sławomir Radoń expressed their doubts about the credibility and thus signifi-
cance of the documents from the investigations of 1949 and 1953. They noted
the haste of the investigation led by the Security Service (UB) as well as the use
of torture, which forced the accused to change the testimonies they had previ-
ously given. However, the key argument used by the critics to discredit these
sources was their very origin. For example, Tomasz Strzembosz commented that
he considered the value of UB materials to be “particularly low, because people
could have said exactly what they were told.”505
All the above-mentioned historians also questioned the credibility of the ac-
counts of survivors of the massacre. Some of them considered the key witness
Szmul Wasersztajn’s testimony to be not entirely reliable. Adam Cyra stressed
that Wasersztajn was a “long-time UB officer in Łomża”506; Marek Chodakie-
wicz suggested the account was not even Waserszatajn’s but given by “a woman
related to NKVD”507; and Tomasz Strzembosz described Wasersztajn’s account
as “too lengthy, too ample, too omniscient” and therefore raising reasonable
doubts.508
A generalising opinion about the accounts of the Holocaust survivors was
expressed by Piotr Gontarczyk, who claimed that the various historical commis-
sions that had acquired testimonies “cared about their political or propagandist
interests more than the truth” and, besides, these sources contained “huge emo-
tional baggage and hasty judgments resulting from dramatic experiences”. Gon-
tarczyk also questioned the value of the accounts written after the war in the
USA – he did not consider them as narratives of “the bygone reality” but rather
“an opportunity to express dislike or simply hostility towards Poland and Poles,
so called ‘anti-Polonism’”.509 It is safe to say that by writing this he also meant
one of the sources used by Jan Tomasz Gross, that is the Yedwabne History and
Memorial Book edited in the USA. Anyway, this source was openly criticised
by Marek Jan Chodakiewicz, who claimed that all the memorial books he had
ever read were similar and contained “almost always the same accusations
against Poles”. He also questioned the testimonies of Jewish witnesses who
“very often emphasise Polish collaboration in the massacre and their co-
responsibility for the Holocaust”. He also suggested, like Gontarczyk, that Jew-
ish historical commissions had acquired the accounts of Holocaust survivors af-
ter the war acting under special instructions and that part of these accounts
served “communist propaganda or even UB activity”, not science.510
The historians who took the defensive stand and doubted the reliability of
the Holocaust survivors’ accounts also referred to Gross’s affirmative approach
to these testimonies. Marek Wierzbicki suggested that the author’s choice of his-
torical sources had been arbitrary and biased. While he acknowledged and af-
firmed survivors’ accounts of the anti-Semitic attitudes of Poles before the Ger-
man occupation, Gross did not recognise or give credibility to the accounts by
Poles of the “pro-Soviet and anti-Polish attitude of Jews before the Soviet occu-
pation”.511 Piotr Gontarczyk even reviewed Gross’s approach “against the prin-
ciples of the historical profession”, stating that sources should be studied objec-
tively “regardless of the author’s ethnic origin.”512 Similarly, Marek Jan
Chodkiewicz postulated that Jewish memories should be treated and verified the
same way as any other account, saying: “This group [Jews – author’s note] must
not be academically differentiated by the arbitrary ‘affirmation’ of their testimo-
nies.”513
The one who gave the greatest deal of attention to Gross’s new approach to
sources, however, was Bogdan Musiał. In his article titled “Histografia mi-
tyczna” (“Mythical Historiography”) Musiał considered the topic of the Ameri-
canisation of the Holocaust and the process of making the Holocaust American
Jewry’s “substitute religion”, which cemented their community and common
identity in an era of the disintegration of traditional social bonds. According to
the author, the existence of such a phenomenon can be observed in the processes
of sacralisation, instrumentalisation, commercialisation and politicisation of the
Holocaust. In his opinion, one of the doctrines of this lay-religion of the Holo-
caust is “the uncritical approach to the accounts of its survivors”. Hence, Musioł
Jewish bad deeds. One of those who got such an impression was the historian
Israel Gutman. He noted that indirectly, in some way, the expressions used in
the article “suggest some sort of calculation about Jedwabne: you to us, we to
you!” Moreover, Gutman noticed that the “rumours and vague accusations
Strzembosz constantly quotes are flights of the imagination and are not worth
referring to.”520 The commentary provoked Strzembosz to respond and “Więź”
magazine became a battleground for the two historians.521
To conclude, historians who took a defensive stand criticised “Neighbors”
mostly for methodological mistakes, sources of uncertain reliability, for ignoring
important sources and belittling the historical context of the events. Sławomir
Radoń accused Gross of “a lack of academic reliability” and of jumping to con-
clusions. He also suggested that his book equated Poles and Germans as the per-
petrators of the Holocaust.522 Piotr Gontarczyk accused the author of using ”un-
documented statements and facts”, a “biased choice of sources”, ignoring or al-
tering whatever challenged his theories and building the historical narrative “on
the basis of stereotypes, prejudice and ordinary gossips”. For all these reasons,
he stated in the last words of his article that “Jan Tomasz Gross’s book cannot
be the basis of any serious debate about our history”.523
These and similar objections towards Gross were also raised by his other
declared critics. Unlike Tomasz Szarota, who classified Gross’s book among
“The Poor Poles…” by Błoński or “Campo di Fiori” by Miłosz, due to its signif-
icance, some compared “Neighbors” to the article by Michał Cichy, “Czarne
karty powstania” 524 [“The Black Pages of the Uprising”] and Gross to Daniel
Goldhagen.525 These comparisons, obviously, never referred to the academic
achievements of the authors but rather to their alleged offhandedness, lack of
academic credibility and a reckless way of formulating opinions. Bogdan Musiał
compared “Neighbors” to the controversial German exhibition from 1995,
“Wehrmacht crimes 1941-1944” which, according to him, “after a detailed anal-
ysis of photographs and documents” turned out to be a “primitive manipulation
of the sources” and an example of “how often facts are subjected to ideological
pressure”. Musiał suggested that this should not be forgotten in the debate about
Jedwabne.526
Between May 2000 and March 2001, more historians joined the above-
mentioned debaters. Some, like Tomasz Szarota, postulated the necessity of fur-
ther research and expressed their objections towards Gross’s book by referring
mostly to missing sources, to methodological problems or ignoring circumstanc-
es they found important. Paweł Machcewicz, for example, pointed out the mate-
rials Gross had never found but should have, and criticised simplifications and
generalisations made by the author. Machcewicz accused Gross of not reflecting
enough on the role of Germans in the Jedwabne events. Moreover, the historian
noted, the author had never provided an answer to the question of the motives of
the crime, while according to Machcewicz one of the key motives must have
been the revenge on Jews for their “collaboration with the Soviet occupiers”.
Although many of Machewicz’s objections had already been raised by other
critics of Gross, whom I quoted earlier in this book, the context was different:
the tone of his statement was more moderate, less aggressive and definitely less
defensive. Machcewicz never doubted that “Jedwabne Jews had been killed by
their Polish neighbors” and that the possible German inspiration or the revenge
motive could not change “the moral judgment of what happened in Jedwabne”
nor “justify the murderers”. He found that Gross’s book was needed, for “shak-
ing our consciences” and making it necessary to deconstruct the heroic image of
Poles under German occupation, in which, until then, there had been no space
for the participants of anti-Jewish pogroms or szmalcowniks. He was concerned,
however, what the reception of “Neighbors” would be in Germany and in the
USA, when the book was translated into other languages. He also wondered
whether Gross’s intrepid book would not interrupt Polish-Jewish dialogue be-
cause of its simplifications and generalisations or whether it would not postpone
“the moment Poles are ready to confess their sins”. 527
In other words, there were different forms of criticism towards “Neighbors”
and various responses by historians to the crime it had revealed. Among the
most radical critics and the most determined protectors of Poland’s good name
were undoubtedly Jerzy Robert Nowak and Ryszard Bender. Although other his-
torians aspired to be members of this group and, on the basis of what they wrote,
could be assigned to it, the two scholars mentioned above distinguished them-
selves as particularly virulent, basing their opinions on anti-Semitic clichés and
often using anti-Semitic rhetoric. Their standpoint towards Gross’s book could
be summarised in one sentence: the Jewish historian Gross wrote a book made
up of lies and slanders, which is another proof of the common western phenom-
enon – anti-Polonism, and whose main aim is to hold Poles co-responsible for
the Holocaust, label them as genetically anti-Semitic and force them to pay
damages and give the Jewish possessions back.
There were also historians whose evaluation of the methodology of “Neigh-
bors” was utterly different or who completely ignored this aspect of the book,
focusing on the meaning and contexts of the revealed massacre. According to
some of them, “technical” flaws of the book, discussed in public, were often of
secondary importance and seen as a secondary concern.
Gross’s book was, for example, regarded as “an example of good methodol-
ogy” by Andrzej Żbikowski. In his opinion, “Gross conducted a very careful
analysis of the available sources, examined the dynamics of the events, recon-
structed the most dramatic moments and determined the perpetrators of the mur-
der”. According to Żbikowski, there was little to add to Gross’s findings until
new sources were discovered which would correct Gross’s thinking and narra-
tion. In his article, Żbikowski disagreed with the theory of revenge for Jewish
actions under the Soviet occupation, which was popularised by other historians.
While he did not question the fact that some Jews had indeed supported the new
rule, had been active in its structures and co-founded the apparatus of violence,
he stressed that there had not been many of them and their attitude had not been
the reason for pogroms in the Bialostockie region, including the Jedwabne pog-
rom. On the basis of analysis of the accounts available in the Jewish Historical
Institute he argued that “all murderers used the popular belief in the Jewish col-
laboration with the Soviets as a pretext to rob and murder with impunity.”
Żbikowski referred to the act of questioning the accounts of the Jewish sur-
vivors and searching for evidence of a German presence in Jedwabne as “bury-
ing one’s head in the sand”. Neither the German presence nor their granting of
permission for killing Jews could change Żbikowski’s opinion that Germans had
not forced the Jedwabne inhabitants to murder their Jewish neighbours.528 The
conclusion of Żbikowski’s words was quite clear: it must have been the locals
who wanted it.
A similar opinion was expressed by Jolanta Żyndul in her analysis of the
mechanism of pogroms based on the example of the Przytyk pogrom. She ar-
gued that it mattered little whether pogroms were organised or spontaneous or
what their motives were. Even if in some cases a pogrom was indeed revenge,
the crowd did not search for factual perpetrators of treason or crime, but instead
punished the whole Jewish community. Rather, it was the circumstances that
mattered each time. It was important whether “the atmosphere of antipathy in a
given community was strong enough to make relatively calm people assault,
beat without restraint or even kill every Jew who was within their reach”. And
so it was in Jedwabne, according to Jolanta Żyndul. Even if revenge for Jewish
“collaboration” under the Soviet occupation played some part, the vindictive
crowd did not look for the actual traitors but punished the whole Jewish com-
munity of Jedwabne.529
Another historian, Marcin Kula, shared this view. Even if the Jedwabne
pogrom had been inspired by the Germans, their inducement must have met “fa-
vourable conditions”, Kula wrote, interpreting the Jedwabne murder as an “ex-
treme display of hatred”, characteristic of the “Eastern European Plain” – the
“traditional” area of pogroms. Another cause of the pogrom, according to Kula,
apart from the favourable conditions to kill Jews, was rooted in the Christian
command to love applying only to “their people” and excluding Jews. Poles and
Jews were "neighbours” only in “the spatial sense”, but in fact there was dis-
tance and strangeness between them.530
Analogously, another debater, Israel Gutman, stated that Jedwabne citizens
who had murdered Jews had not perceived them as human beings. They were
fed with pre-war anti-Semitism, according to which Jews posed a threat that one
should be rid of. Under the favourable circumstances created by the Germans
who “made the basis for evil and murder”, Jedwabne citizens “felt they could
commit it”. According to Gutman, they took advantage of the situation and
murdered their Jewish neighbours who were “beyond the area of moral respon-
sibility”.
Gulman also argued with Tomasz Szarota’s opinion, presented in “Gazeta
Wyborcza” daily, that one should first find out the “devilish details” to recon-
struct the full picture of the Jedwabne massacre and to understand it properly. In
Gutman’s opinion, “in such terrible events people are devilish and not details”
while the details Szarota demanded to take into account were classified by Gut-
man as wishful thinking. Although Gutman never regarded “Neighbors” as
complete, elaborate or answering all possible questions, he was certain about
one thing: the disclosure of the Jedwabne massacre made Błoński’s statement
“we didn’t take part in the genocide”531 invalid.
All the above-mentioned views of the historians who took different stands in
the debate about “Neighbors” were presented in public discourse between May
2000 and March 2001. The time frame is important because at the end of March
2001, there was an important turning point in the historical dispute and, in gen-
529 J. Żyndul, Jeśli nie pogrom, to co?, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 8 III 2001, p. 18.
530 M. Kula, Ludzie ludziom, “Rzeczpospolita” 17-18 III 2001, p. 8-9.
531 J. Błoński, The Poor Poles Look at the Ghetto, op. cit.
162 Chapter III
eral, in the trajectory of the Jedwabne debate. Namely, the historians were
granted access to the files from the 1949 Łomża trial of the Jedwabne murder-
ers. Until then, the documents could not be used for two reasons: first, the Main
Commission for the Prosecution of Crimes against the Polish Nation, which kept
the files, was in the process of liquidation and reorganisation; second, the files
were later taken over by the prosecutor Radosław Ignatiew, who held the inquiry
into the Jedwabne case.532 It was these files that Jan Tomasz Gross used as one
of the sources on which he based his book. No other historian taking part in the
debate analysed them or even had access to them for some time. Jan Tomasz
Gross accessed the archives of the Main Commission for the Prosecution of
Crimes against the Polish Nation when they were officially not accessible be-
cause of the liquidation of the Main Commission and the transfer of archives to
the newly created Institute of National Remembrance. It was possible for him
due to Andrzej Paczkowski, who he thanked in one of the footnotes in “Neigh-
bors”.
For this reason, historians claimed that Jan Tomasz Gross had been in a
privileged position – Tomasz Strzembosz emphasised the author had been in the
possession of “secret knowledge” that no one else had access to. He could thus
legitimise the course of events depicted in “Neighbors”, invalidate counterar-
guments and close his adversaries’ mouths.533 As soon as the court records were
accessible, the historians quickly caught up and undermined the credibility of
Gross’s findings on the basis of the new materials. Tomasz Strzembosz did it in
an article published in “Rzeczpospolita” daily, entitled “Inny obraz sąsiadów”
[“A Different Picture of Neighbors”] as did Piotr Gontarczyk in his article
“Gross przemilczeń” [“Gross’s Concealments”], published in “Życie” daily.534
What both historians concluded from the court records was that the analyses
of the witnesses’ and defendants’ testimonies about the Jedwabne massacre con-
tradicted Gross’s main theory and allowed the opposite reassessment of the
Jedwabne events. Quoting extensively from the testimonies, both Strzembosz
and Gontarczyk decided that the key role in the Jedwabne massacre was played
by the Germans. The content of the testimonies was supposed to confirm that it
532 E.g. Paweł Machcewicz mentioned it during a discussion held in “Rzeczpospolita” edi-
torial office. See Jedwabne, 10 lipca 1941 – zbrodnia i pamięć, “Rzeczpospolita” 3 III
2001, p. 12-16.
533 T. Strzembosz, Inny obraz sąsiadów, “Rzeczpospolita” 31 III 2001, p. 9-11; This issue
was also raised by some participants in the debate about the Jedwabne massacre held in
the “Rzeczpospolita” editorial office. See Jedwabne, 10 lipca 1941 – zbrodnia i pamięć,
“Rzeczpospolita” 3 III 2001, p. 12-16.
534 See T. Strzembosz, Inny obraz sąsiadów, “Rzeczpospolita” 31 III 2001, p.; P. Gontar-
czyk, Gross przemilczeń, “Życie” 31 III – 1 IV 2001, p. 11-13.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 163
was Germans who, along with the town authorities, participated in escorting the
Jews in the square and guarding them; they were also supposed to have forced
the Poles to seize the victims from town. Both historians also tended to agree
that on the day of the massacre there had been more Germans than the mere
dozen or so which Gross claimed; what is more, their role had not been limited
to “filming”. Germans, Gontarczyk wrote, “were initiators and the causative
force behind the Jedwabne tragedy. It was they who dragged Poles out of their
homes, and stood behind Karolak, Bardoń and their companions”.535
Tomasz Strzembosz went even further in his conclusions, claiming that
Germans were not only “inspirers, organisers and co-perpetrators” but it was
they, not Poles, who burned the Jews in the barn. It did not seem possible to
Strzembosz that “Germans, who controlled the whole preparation processes, left
the ultimate execution of the murder to Poles”.536 What role did Poles play in the
Jedwabne crime then? According to Piotr Gontarczyk, “a few people” partici-
pated voluntarily and their motive was revenge for the Jewish attitude under So-
viet occupation and “the savagery of war”. The remaining Poles – “at least a
dozen or so” – were forced by the Germans to “gather” Jews in the square,
guard them and, later, to escort them to the barn. According to Gontarczyk, there
were still those in this group who escaped, not willing to carry out their task, and
those who helped the Jews. None of them was ever “aware of the tragic fate of
their neighbors”.537 Tomasz Strzembosz’s view of the Polish role in the massa-
cre was similar. He emphasised the small number of Polish co-perpetrators and
that they acted under German duress.538
Both historians accused Jan Tomasz Gross of manipulation. According to
them, Gross ignored the testimonies of the witnesses and defendants from the
1949 trial, which contained statements of the causative role of the Germans,
and he had included only those blaming Poles. In other words, his choice of
sources was subordinate to the theory that Jedwabne Jews were murdered by
the “Polish society”. Other sources used by the author were supposed to back
up this critique: their value had been already undermined by Gontarczyk,
Strzembosz and other historians. The two scholars criticised them again, add-
ing that Szmul Wasersztajn could not have been an eyewitness to the events he
had spoken of in his account; some of the witnesses Gross referred to had not
been in Jedwabne that day; someone counted by Gross as a perpetrator had
been severely ill on the day in question and had not left their home and there-
fore could not have participated in the massacre, etc. All of these minutely-
listed shortcomings and inaccuracies served only one purpose: to make Gross’s
findings invalid and prove that this sociologist, who was not a historian, simply
made a mistake. His main and conscious – as was highlighted – mistake was
thought to be his wrong assessment of the role the Germans played in the Jed-
wabne crime. The consoling discovery that Gross had made a mistake was an-
nounced in a triumphant and relieved tone by Tomasz Strzembosz, whose arti-
cle “Inny obraz sąsiadów” [“A Different Picture of Neighbours”] proclaimed:
“And so: the Germans!”539
“And yet, Neighbours” – Jan Tomasz Gross answered in his article under
the same title [“A jednak sąsiedzi”] and a few other texts published in Polish
press. The author disputed the assertions made by Strzembosz and Gontarczyk
and other objections raised by his adversaries.540 Gross pointed out that he had
never ignored any accounts and that he had highlighted in his book that more
than ten Germans were in Jedwabne that day and some of them, along with lo-
cal authorities, participated in recruiting Poles to escort the Jedwabne Jews to
the square and to guard the Jews rounded up there. Gross based his depiction
of the role played by the Germans on the accounts of the witnesses and de-
fendants of the Łomża trial. Because of this, the author stated that Tomasz
Strzembosz could find these testimonies in “Neighbors” and that neither
Strzembosz nor Gontarczyk had discovered anything new. Quoting himself,
Gross also reminded that he had noted in “Neighbors”: “At the time the overall
undisputed bosses over life and death in Jedwabne were the Germans. No sus-
tained organized activity could take place there without their consent. They
were the only ones who could decide the fate of the Jews. It was within their
power also to stop the murderous pogrom at any time. And they did not choose
to intervene.”541
542 P. Wroński, Podtrzymuję swoje tezy, an interview with J. T. Gross, “Gazeta Wyborcza”
3 IV 2001, p. 16.
543 Ibidem
544 J. T. Gross, A jednak sąsiedzi, “Rzeczpospolita” 11 IV 2001, p. 10-11.
545 See: J. Pleszczyński, Nie zlekceważyłem żadnych relacji, an interview with J. T. Gross,
“Gazeta Wyborcza” 30 III 2001, p. 3.
546 J. T. Gross, A jednak sąsiedzi, “Rzeczpospolita” 11 IV 2001, p. 12-13.
547 Ibidem, p. 13.
166 Chapter III
interviews, Gross reproached Strzembosz for “trying to belittle the case and
demonstrate that the Jedwabne pogrom was no different from any other murders
of Jews committed in the region”.548
After the polemic provoked by Tomasz Strzembosz and seconded by Piotr
Gontarczyk, Jan Tomasz Gross stopped expressing his opinions in public for a
longer time and the debate carried on without him. Before that, asked by a jour-
nalist whether the meaning of “Neighbors” might change because of the ongoing
investigation, such as the exhumation of the bodies of the Jews burnt in the Jed-
wabne barn, the searching of archives and debates in general, he gave the opin-
ion that even if the number of victims was established and lowered it would not
change the fact that the whole population of Jedwabne Jews had been murdered
by their Polish neighbours.549 His predictions proved to be true; however, he de-
sisted from further discussion.
Among those who continued to participate in the debate, a clear division
emerged between the supporters of Jan Tomasz Gross’s stand and those who
considered Tomasz Strzembosz the authority in the Jedwabne case. Not without
reason did Paweł Ciołkiewicz name this stadium of the debate, inaugurated by
the Strzembosz versus Gross polemic, “the two-stands phase”.550 Although other
historians also participated in the debate and argued with one another, they usu-
ally repeated, developed or completed the theories of the two scholars. They
used similar narratives, taking either Gross’s or Strzembosz’s stand. Almost un-
til the very end of the debate, these two views on the Jedwabne massacre were
reproduced in the public discourse by the multi-voiced participants. Therefore,
the public image of the pogrom and its social representations originated from
trusting one of the two historians or putting one’s faith in other participants of
the debate who also supported one of the two. That is why the role of historians
in the debate should not be belittled even if their voices were not unanimous and
sometimes drowned out.
548 P. Wroński, Podtrzymuję swoje tezy, an interview with J. T. Gross, “Gazeta Wyborcza”
3 IV 2001, p. 16.
549 J. Pleszczyński, Nie zlekceważyłem żadnych relacji, an interview with J. T. Gross,
“Gazeta Wyborcza” 30 III 2001, p. 3.
550 P. Ciołkiewicz, Poszukiwanie granic odpowiedzialności zbiorowej. Debata o Jedwab-
nem na łamach “Gazety Wyborczej”, “Kultura i Społeczeństwo” 2004, No. 1, s. 125.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 167
related to it. Such a definition neither determines the morality of the participants
nor is it evaluative– its function is purely analytical. In order to grasp the specif-
ic moral discourse of the debate, I propose to focus on a few questions raised by
the participants: first, the evaluation of Jan Tomasz Gross’s book and the mean-
ing assigned to its publication; second, the attitude towards the crime revealed in
“Neighbors” and the facts related to it; third, the confession of Polish sins as a
result of this revelation; and finally, the problem of the collective responsibility
for the sins of our ancestors.
In the moral discourse, the historical sources on which “Neighbors” was
based were never questioned. Rare comments on the author's methodological
mistakes were not usually regarded as significant compared to the scale of the
Jedwabne massacre. Moreover, it was highlighted that “Neighbors” was intend-
ed to provoke a discussion that had not yet been initiated by any of the balanced
and elaborate but unnoticed publications by other authors, which also touched
on the sensitive topic of the Polish-Jewish past. Gross’s methodology, by the
way, was considered innovative in Polish historiography and his proposal to re-
vise the approach to sources gained its followers. Joanna Tokarska- Bakir saw it
as a type of remedy for the gaps in Polish collective memory, which is “a place
where there are no Jews”. She added that “we all need a revision in the approach
to sources”. However, she noted, “the new approach to sources” proposed by
Gross could persuade only someone who was already convinced for some time:
for example, the addressee of Jan Błoński’s essay “Poor Poles Look at the Ghet-
to”.551 Generalising, one could say that in the moral discourse, assessment of the
methodological aspect of “Neighbors” was almost completely absent. Gross’s
book was evaluated in terms of its significance for Polish readers and the debate
it sparked off.
Numerous debaters emphasised that “Neighbors” evoked shock in Poland
and was personally shocking for them, too. That is why they interpreted its re-
lease and the public debate around it as a turning point or a breakthrough. While
Marek Ostrowski pointed out that revealing the Jedwabne crime was “a turning
point in Polish-Jewish relations”552, some stressed that Jedwabne was not a
Polish-Jewish problem but solely a Polish one and Poles should deal with it by
themselves. Michał Głowiński and Paweł Śpiewak emphatically stated that, as
did Adam Krzemiński, who emphasised that “the present debate about the Jed-
wabne pogrom sets a turning point for Polish self-awareness”.553
554 A. Sabor, ks. A. Boniecki, Głęboki wymiar pamięci, an interview with L. Kieres, “Ty-
godnik Powszechny” 17 VI 2001, p. 11.
555 A. Magdziak-Miszewska, Najpoważniejszy egzamin, “Więź” 2001, No. 4, p. 48
556 P. Pytlakowski, Wasze ręce mają znaki, “Polityka” 17 III 2001, p. 15.
557 W. Amiel, Prawda lustra, “Wprost” 4 II 2001, p. 30.
558 J. S. Mac, Test z Jedwabnego, “Wprost” 18 III 2001, p. 74.
559 J. S. Mac, Test z Jedwabnego, “Wprost” 18 III 2001, p. 74
560 See H. Bortnowska, Gdy sąsiad nie ma imienia, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 27-28 I 2001,
p. 24; Such a words were used by Marcin Król during the editorial discussion on pages
of “Res Publica Nowa”. See Akt skruchy i co dalej?, “Res Publica Nowa” 2001, No. 7,
p. 7.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 169
revealed “this snippet of the truth we never wanted to hear about. This truth is
bitter, bitter as medicine – unpalatable, painful but needed”.561
Many other debaters wrote about the need for publications that expose the
painful truth. For them, the debate inspired by Gross’s “Neighbors” was a land-
mark that provoked national introspection and had therapeutic value. Within the
moral discourse, there was no doubt that Gross’s book was needed because it
forced Poles to necessarily and publicly account for their difficult past and to
purify their collective memory. Some lamented that the book had not been writ-
ten by a Polish writer or that a similar debate had not been held earlier. Distrust
for the state of Polish historiography was expressed: Polish historians were criti-
cised for their negligence, and history textbooks for their heroic and martyred
vision of national history. In this context, by revealing the Jedwabne massacre
and provoking a national debate, Gross’s book was considered an even greater
contribution. This “irrefutable” value was often mentioned in the moral dis-
course while little attention was paid to analysis of the methodological aspects
of the book.
Such an approach to the meaning and value of “Neighbors” is not, however,
a distinguishing criterion of the moral discourse (at least not the only one); it
fails to demonstrate the unique character of this discourse that is different from
other narratives. A key criterion is surely the attitude of debaters towards the
crime described by Gross and to the facts related to it. In the moral discourse,
Polish participation was never questioned, belittled or excused by extenuating
circumstances. On the contrary, representatives of the moral discourse disap-
proved of all those who attempted to play down Polish participation in the crime
in the name of a discourse of innocence. In other words, the moral discourse re-
lated to the Jedwabne pogrom was a discourse without any “yes, but” – a “but”
which often marks anti-Semitic rhetoric.
Unlike other participants, debaters using the moral discourse did not magni-
fy the role of the Germans in the Jedwabne massacre; their presence, inspiration
or possible co-participation was considered neither an extenuating circumstance
nor an excuse. Therefore, they did not support historians searching for evidence
that the German role had been crucial or that there had been more Germans than
Gross suggested or that the role of Poles in the crime was minor.562 The debaters
perceived the role played in the murder by the Germans in the same way as the
author did. Therefore, they wrote about “a pogrom licensed by the German oc-
cupier”563 or about a murder committed by Poles with “presumably little” partic-
ipation of the Germans.564 German patronage, inspiration or obvious permission
were not excluded but perceived as having nothing to do with the fact that the
role of murderers was played by the local, Polish residents. Unlike the other nar-
ratives I will later analyse, the moral discourse labelled Poles as murderers and
the German role as peripheral. This bitter truth was indisputable.
Not only did the moral discourse never shift the burden of the murder to the
Germans, there were also no attempts to make this murder easier to bear by cat-
egorising the Polish perpetrators as anti-Semitic, primitive scum or a social
margin. If the perpetrators were removed beyond the borders of the national
community, assigned a marginal status and deprived of Polish nationality, all the
remaining, non-anti-Semitic, cultured and good Poles, city dwellers and univer-
sity graduates could sigh with relief since they had nothing to do with the Jed-
wabne massacre. The temptation of such thinking was interpreted as an easy es-
cape from the sense of responsibility and a comfortable ritual of washing hands.
Therefore, one of the journalists noted that in a barn in Jedwabne “not a margin
but a strap of the Polish nation burned a part of the Jewish nation.” 565
In addition, the motive of revenge on Jews for their attitude under the Soviet
occupation – an avenue of interpretation proposed by Tomasz Strzembosz and
used by other debaters – was viewed as an attempt to find extenuating circum-
stances. This particular deductive system was interpreted as an endeavour to ex-
cuse or even justify the murderers and to shift the blame to the victims. There
was no acceptance for attempts to de-emphasise the necessity of a moral ap-
praisal of the murder committed by Poles by referring to the alleged motive of
revenge and thereby shunting aside the debate over it.
There were some who became involved in a polemic against Strzembosz’s
theory that attempted to excuse the murder in its context. They questioned the
validity and sense of his arguments and accused the academic, who had analysed
the Białostockie region under the occupation, of ignoring the wartime history of
Jews in the region (“he failed to link the history of Jews with the history of Po-
land”566). Artur Domosławski even risked an analysis of the stand taken by
Strzembosz in the debate over “Neighbors” from the perspective of the author’s
personal biography, which received criticism, not only from those who identi-
563 H. Bortnowska, Gdy sąsiad nie ma imienia, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 27-28 I 2001, p. 24.
564 S. Musiał, Jedwabne to nowe imię Holokaustu, “Rzeczpospolita” 10 VII 2001, p. 12.
565 W. Kuczyński, Płonąca stodoła i ja, “Wprost” 25 III 2001, p. 56.
566 J. Lewandowski, Historia Polski po Jedwabnem będzie wyglądała inaczej, “Rzeczpo-
spolita” 15 II 2001, p. 7.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 171
fied with Strzembosz’s views.567 Much more often, however, the disputants
pointed out that whether the Jedwabne victims had been treated as “recent sup-
porters of the Bolshevik rule” or “local representatives of little business” or even
as someone else, did not matter at all. “Any attempts to calculate mathematical
proportions for such feelings”, wrote Archbishop Józef Życiński, “are automati-
cally doomed to fail. They contribute little to the moral appraisal of the situation
as it would be mad to think there are any reasons that can justify the collective
burning of human beings in barns”.568 Similar views were shared by other debat-
ers, who found the motives of the crime insignificant as none of them could ex-
plain the murder, Revenge on neighbours was no justification.
In the moral discourse, criticism was also directed at what Piotr Pytlakowski
described as “coldness” in the debate, that is, technical and mathematical delib-
erations about the number of Jews murdered in Jedwabne.569 It was often noted
that any sort of calculations related to counting victims or – as Agnieszka Ar-
nold named it – “the cynical counting of skeletons” served only to belittle
Gross’s findings or sometimes even to reduce the scale of the massacre.570 What
was found particularly outrageous and immoral were speculations about the size
of the barn – whether it had been large enough to fit the number of Jews sug-
gested by Gross and inscribed on the Jedwabne monument.
Therefore, a great dose of scepticism, not to say disapproval, was expressed
about the exhumation of the bodies of Jews burnt in the Jedwabne barn, initiated
by the Institute of National Remembrance.571 This scepticism or disapproval
567 See A. Domosławski, Kustosz Polski niewinnej, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 19-20 V 2001,
p. 14.
568 J. Życiński, Banalizacja barbarzyństwa, “Więź” 2001, No. 3, p. 28.
569 P. Pytlakowski, Wasze ręce mają znaki, “Polityka” 17 III 2001, p. 16.
570 J. Paradowska, Liczenie szkieletów, an interview with A. Arnold, “Polityka” 14 IV
2001, p. 17.
571 The exhumation conducted during the IPN investigation was the subject of justified
controversies. Jewish law (Halakha) forbids disturbing the peace of the deceased and al-
lows exhumation only in a few circumstances treated as a state of necessity. They did
not apply to the case in Jedwabne. Therefore a conflict arose between the Halakha and
the Polish legal procedures that order exhumation in such cases. Eventually, the War-
saw and Łódź rabbi Michael Schudrich (who could not consent to exhumation for reli-
gious reasons) and the Minister of Justice Lech Kaczyński reached a compromise. Ex-
humation was decided to be conducted only partially, by only exposing the corpses of
the murdered without disturbing or extracting them. In addition to IPN prosecutors and
experts, Michael Schudrich, rabbis from Great Britain and Israel as well as experts on
Halakha burial law participated in the exhumation. The results of the exhumation indi-
cated that there had been about 200-250 victims in two graves – one inside the barn and
another placed along its foundations. As the chief of the IPN investigation department,
172 Chapter III
stemmed mainly from a conviction that the main aim of supporters of the exhu-
mation was not the IPN investigation and the discovery of the historical truth,
but rather to disprove the number of victims (questioned since the very release
of “Neighbors”) in order to belittle Gross’s theories. That is why Konstanty
Gebert warned against an exploitative attitude to the bodies of murdered Jews,
intended to convince those who remained unconvinced and to help change the
opinions of people “of bad will and a dirty conscience”.572 The journalist Józefa
Hennelowa added that for people who demanded the exhumation most fiercely,
the number was the most important, as if a smaller figure “could change any-
thing about our guilty conscience for those who committed it [the pogrom –
translator’s note]”. She also noticed that beforehand, no one had questioned the
figure of 1,600 victims inscribed on the Jedwabne monument because at that
stage the blame was attributed to the Nazis, about which the inscription on the
monument informed.573 In the moral discourse, it was considered obvious that
the mercifully lower number of victims could neither change the moral appraisal
of the murder committed by Poles nor question Gross’s main theory.
Considering what has been said so far about the moral discourse and its ap-
proach to the attempts to find extenuating circumstances for the Polish perpetra-
tors of the Jedwabne crime, it seems that one thing needs further explanation.
One might think that the criticism towards the endeavours undertaken to reduce
the role and participation of Poles in the crime meant that historical research and
the IPN investigation were considered insignificant. Nothing could be further
from the truth. The need for further research was often mentioned and treated as
the responsibility of historians and investigators. There were no doubts within
the moral discourse, however, that the current knowledge of the Jedwabne mas-
sacre was enough to view Poles as perpetrators and draw correct conclusions
from this knowledge. Thus, if some historians were criticised ad personam, it
was only for their blind determination in the search for any evidence of extenu-
ating circumstances intended to confirm Polish innocence. This attitude of some
Witold Kulesza, stressed, this was only an approximate number because the exhumation
had not been completed. Moreover, the presence of other corpses buried elsewhere in
Jedwabne could not be ruled out. Thus, the exhumation significantly revised the number
of 1,600 victims given by Gross and inscribed on the monument in Jedwabne. There
were also numerous gun shells around the barn and one on the corpse of a victim. In the
grave inside the barn a partly melted bullet jacket was also found. Some people believed
these findings to be an obvious proof of the German participation in the massacre.
However, these hopes proved to be vain.
572 K. Gebert, Ekshumacja, “Rzeczpospolita” 15 VI 2001, p. 9.
573 J. Hennelowa, Ciszej nad Jedwabnem, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 3 VI 2001, p. 3.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 173
historians and other debaters who “fanatically supported them” was considered a
significant barrier to the recently started self-examination.574
Polish self-examination and the confession of crimes against Jews are an
important element of the debate that helps to strengthen and more precisely de-
fine the border between the moral discourse and other narratives about Jedwab-
ne. The moral discourse considered the revelation of the Jedwabne crime by Jan
Tomasz Gross to be a necessary confrontation with a difficult past, hitherto
shrouded in silence and rejected. Literally and symbolically, Jedwabne was
viewed as a challenge to see all the dimensions of the national past in full light.
Also, it was regarded as an opportunity to enrich the cognitive perspective by
noticing different attitudes of Poles towards Jews: not only those that make us
proud but also those that bring shame and dishonour and to see ourselves in a
new role: not as victims, but the culprits of someone else’s misery. In other
words, Jedwabne was considered a necessary stimulus and imperative for com-
plete Polish self-knowledge.
Therefore, users of this discourse called for re-evaluating the past, for a na-
tional self-evaluation and for acknowledging and confessing Polish sins. This
process was considered necessary, not only for the sake of the international im-
age of Poland and Poles, but primarily for the national community, which
should learn the truth about itself and be able to speak about it. Quoting Dariusz
Czaja, “sins never confessed and atrocities never realised do not descend into
nothingness. They are stuck in the subconscious, corrupting it from the in-
side.”575
It was reminded, however, that this way of dealing with the past is not a
Polish specificity: many other nations had to deal with their burdensome legacy.
Poles were neither the first nor the last to experience the revenge of suppressed
memory, to face the truth of the past and to recall from oblivion what would be
comfortable to forget. These issues were also the aims of a series of interviews
conducted by Jacek Żakowski for “Gazeta Wyborcza” daily, with historians,
sociologists and philosophers (e.g. Paul Ricoeur, Yehuda Bauer, Charles Maier)
about the rising wave of historical revisions and accounting for history in differ-
ent parts of the world, about a sudden revision of the difficult past and the
mechanisms to handle it. In the moral discourse, there were attempts to outline
which conditions would give the opportunity to confess sins in an honest way. A
key condition was what Jan Błoński suggested in his essay: stop listing sorrows
and beating the breasts of others. Joanna Tokarska-Bakir, for example, pointed
out that all previous debates over Polish-Jewish relations in the context of the
knowledge, “it is very likely that people murdering their Jewish neighbours had
a sense of support from their neighbours and authorities who – as they believed
– thought similarly to them. They could have even thought they were complet-
ing a mission as the only virtuous and truly Catholic Poles, the only right-
eous”.583
The self-examination in the moral discourse also included confessing other
sins committed by Poles against Jews, such as other pogroms. Confessions were
accompanied by a polemic against the national myth of an innocent victim: the
myth of Poland as a “Christ of Europe” and a country that was solely aggrieved
and that suffered. Blind defence of the paradigm of national innocence was seen
as a result of this powerful auto-stereotype constituting Polish identity and pos-
ing a serious barrier to acknowledging and confessing Polish sins. In other
words, the almost panicky “innocence obsession”584 was seen as a dam, separat-
ing Poles from the purifying truth about themselves; an obstacle standing in the
way to the multi-dimensioned past.
The reckoning with the Jedwabne massacre and other Polish sins against
Jews, postulated and carried out in the moral discourse, resulted from the belief
that even if individual responsibility and personal blame for the pogrom rested
with its direct perpetrators, the burden is placed on the whole national communi-
ty. Among the users of the moral discourse, there was no doubt that the Jedwab-
ne murders also burdened contemporary Poles and, in some way, made them
responsible for it. Although there were different definitions of such responsibil-
ity, it would be hard to disagree that there was an implied community of sense
regardless of the diversity of terminology.
Therefore, the moral discourse included terms such as “responsibility”, “col-
lective responsibility”, “responsibility for the community”, “national responsi-
bility” and, the most frequent, “moral responsibility” for the deeds committed by
the members of the national community we all belong to. At times, however, the
term “responsibility” was given up. Wojciech Sadurski questioned its usability
in the context of the debate, arguing that what stems from accepting responsibil-
ity are “some duties of practical action, compensation for damages or punish-
ments” while when it comes to Jedwabne it would be better to speak of shame
and to use the first person singular.585 Jan Nowak-Jeziorański also used the word
“shame” in writing about a “sense of national shame for disgraceful deeds” and
about the necessity of confessing to “Polish Cains”.586 Others, who avoided the
word “responsibility” without giving any specific reason, used such phrases as:
“the burden of the legacy of blame”587, “the burden of the blame for crimes” 588
or “the burden of our ancestors’ sins”589 and believed that collective memory
should include not only remembering national heroes, glorious events and hon-
ourable achievements but also the memory of murderers and national dis-
grace.590 Sometimes, however, acknowledging responsibility or accepting the
burden of blame for the Jedwabne massacre was expressed by saying “we” in-
stead of “them”. “We, fellow brothers of murderers” – signatories of the letter
“To the Jedwabne Jews” wrote.591
The debaters used some varieties of the term “responsibility” to make it
clear that what they meant was neither a legal definition of this word nor the in-
dividual and direct responsibility of the contemporary generations for their an-
cestors’ guilt. These debaters who never used the term were exempt from such
explanations. This way or another, both groups spoke of the same thing, that is,
of the duty of burdening a nation as a collective subject to accept its legacy in its
full and heterogeneous form: not only our ancestors’ merits but also their guilt.
It was stressed that the privilege of enjoying the part of the national heritage that
is a cause for pride requires taking on the duty to accept the inglorious part of
the inheritance: the embarrassing and troublesome past. This question was raised
by the Executive Board of the Democratic Left Alliance (SLD) in its open letter
to “the members and sympathisers of SLD”592, and the then prime minister Jerzy
Buzek stated that although the Jedwabne massacre had been committed “neither
in the name of the Polish nation nor the Polish state”, as a nation, “if we have a
right to be proud of the Poles who risked or even gave their lives to save Jews,
we also have to acknowledge the guilt of those who participated in murdering
them.”593
Other debaters also referred to such a “conditional”, let us say, right to be
proud of the Polish Righteous Among the Nations or other great Poles such as
John Paul II, Frédéric Chopin, Nicolaus Copernicus and Hugo Kołłątaj as well
as nameless Polish heroes.
The idea of the responsibility of the Polish national community for the sins
of previous generations, accepted and postulated by the moral discourse, result-
ed from acknowledging the consequences of belonging to this community: privi-
leges as well as duties and obligations. Janusz Majcherek stressed that this rule
applied also in relation to other communities, religious for example, with which
we identify and which we choose or affirm the choice once made for us (e.g.
baptism).
In each case, being a part of a community involves taking some obligations
and “joint participation”, Majcherek pointed out, “means joint responsibility –
unless it is enforced.”594 Dawid Warszawski wrote about it in the first person
singular, declaring: “the same degree to which I identify with a community, I
bear – knowingly and wilfully – the responsibility for its actions, good and bad,
now and in the future.”595 Other debaters also had similar arguments.
In other words, the discussions about Polish responsibility for Jedwabne
held in the moral discourse defined responsibility as following from belonging
to a national community. Thus, the journalist Janusz Majcherek considered a
paradox in which the same people who emphasised their close connection with
the nation and with the Catholic Church as particularly significant communities,
and whose identity was defined though these communities, tried to absolve
themselves from the sense of shared responsibility for the Polish murderers from
Jedwabne.596 In the moral discourse, however, the contrary was the case: the in-
clusion of knowledge about the Jedwabne massacre and about other Polish sins
in the collective memory of Poles was considered necessary for Polish national
identity. As Dariusz Czaja noted, fragmentary and imputed collective memory
leads to a “cripple identity” – individual as well as collective.597 Completing and
correcting this memory was seen as sine qua non to strengthen national identity
for Poles’ own sake.
Everything said so far about the moral discourse proves its specificity and
dissimilarity to the stand and rhetoric of other participants of the Jedwabne de-
bate. This difference will become even clearer against a background of the opin-
ions formulated by the opponents. Sometimes they emphasised it themselves,
naming the dispersed voices of the moral discourse “flagellants”.
598 See A. Paczkowski, Debata wokół “Sąsiadów”: próba wstępnej typologii, “Rzeczpo-
spolita” 24 III 2001, p. 16.
599 See J. Michlic, Pamięć o mrocznej przeszłości. Intelektualiści o Jedwabnem, “Midrasz”
2003, No. 4, p. 34-35.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 179
defence which was characteristic/typical for this discourse, and which consisted
in the “confession of someone else’s crimes” – that is, giving an answer to the
question: What should Jews apologise to Poles for? Moreover, one should not
ignore a very specific interpretive pattern that is characteristic of the “defensive
camp”, which I will call “a conspiracy theory”.
The processes of discrediting “Neighbors” were noticeable, for example, in
what the book was called, such as: “a journalistic text”,600 a “para-historical”
book,601 a “pseudo-scientific humbug”,602 an “outwardly scholarly elaboration”,603
a ”dishonourable lampoon”,604 “a crowning achievement of anti-Polonism in re-
cent years”,605 a “martyrological-fiction”.606 The list could definitely be longer. In
the defensive camp, no one appreciated the value of “Neighbors” – by comparing
it with Błoński’s memorable essay, for example. If some analogies were made,
the book was rather compared with “The Painted Bird” by Jerzy Kosiński, that is,
a symbol of anti-Polish literary fiction in the nationalist discourse.
In this manner, “Neighbors” was deprived of academic status and, as a re-
sult, of a cognitive value. A journalist from the right-wing weekly, “Nasza Pol-
ska”, even noted that Leszek Bubel [a journalist and publisher of anti-Semitic
press; author’s note] was also perfectly able to “feign reliable academic re-
search” with a few annotations.607 As with historians representing the defensive
attitude, the defensive camp pointed at methodological mistakes committed by
the author: mostly omitting certain sources (e.g. the findings of prosecutor Wal-
demar Monkiewicz, failing to search through German archives) or selective use
of the sources. The last objection concerned mostly the testimonies from the
1949 Łomża trial of the Jedwabne murderers. During the trial, some witnesses
and defendants unequivocally pointed at the role of the Germans as inspirers and
executors of the murder on Jedwabne Jews. Gross was accused of ignoring these
elements of the testimonies as they conflicted with his main theory that Poles
were the ones who committed the murder.
Mostly, however, it was the testimony of Szmul Wasersztajn that was ques-
tioned. Wasersztajn was presented as an unreliable witness due to his work in
the security police after the war. The trust that the right-wing press put in the
document from the Stalinist period in Poland, while deprecating Szmul Waser-
600 P. Semka, “Sąsiedzi”: koniec czy początek?, “Życie” 2 III 2001, p. 16.
601 A. Wernic, Człowiek honoru, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 18, p. 19.
602 A. Echolette, Gross pod murem, “Nasza Polska” 19 VI 2001, p. 8.
603 Z. Szuba, Jak zaszczuto ludzi w Jedwabnem, “Myśl Polska” 18 III 2001, p. 8.
604 (WAB), “Nie jesteśmy sami!”, “Myśl Polska” 10 VI 2001, p. 3.
605 M. Piskorski, Sabat bez Grossa, “Myśl Polska”, kwiecień-maj 2001, p. 2.
606 J. Pawlas, Dialog, “Nasz Dziennik” 19 IV 2001, p. 11.
607 J. Womalski, Fałszywe dowody, fałszywe zeznania, “Nasza Polska” 19 VI 2001, p. 7.
180 Chapter III
“an apostate, renegade, traitor and turncoat, an advocate of someone else’s inter-
ests, a bird that fouls its own nest, etc.”618. All of them were aimed at portraying
Gross’s attitude to the nation he came from. Other epithets referred to the lies
the author supposedly enclosed in his book: “an obscene liar”,619 “a notorious
humbug”,620 “an impostor from Overseas”621 or “the chief calumniator”.622 Even
the popular saying “to lie like a dog” was replaced with a new, spontaneously
created version: “to lie like Gross”.623
Moreover, Gross’s own biography was supposed to be an element discredit-
ing his book, which Antoni Zambrowski tried to prove in an article in “Tygod-
nik Solidarność” and an interview in “Najwyższy Czas!” weekly. Zambrowski
suggested that Jan Tomasz Gross, arrested in 1968, “broke during interrogation
and incriminated his friends”.624 The defensive camp, often employing the anti-
Semitic rhetoric, did not fail to reproach Gross for his Jewish roots, which was
obviously supposed to be significant for the debate about “Neighbors”. Gross’s
origin was believed to confirm the anti-Polish attitude of Jews (particularly
American Jews), which was taken as an axiom: in other words, the example of
Gross provided evidence for an implicit rule and vice versa. As a resident of the
USA, Gross met all necessary criteria of the supposed hostile attitude of Jews to
Poland and Poles and his origin fully explained his “true” intentions. Also, it
was noted that he was an author of a “number of anti-Polish books”625 and was
generally known for his negative attitude to Poles and, particularly, to the
Catholic Church. Negative attitude of Jews towards Christianity and the Church
were suggested as well. Nevertheless, the defenders of the Polish innocence par-
adigm mainly tried to undermine the key thesis of Gross’s book regarding the
participation of Poles in the Jedwabne massacre. There were attempts to dimin-
ish the participation and the blame of the inhabitants of Jedwabne, mostly by
minimising or even negating this participation in various ways.
The whole “self-defence camp” agreed wholeheartedly that Germans must
have been the chief architects of the murder and it had been their inspiration that
618 J. Wegner, Antypatie Grossa, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 33, p. 20.
619 W. Wybranowski, Jedwabne – dobry geszeft, “Nasz Dziennik” 7 XI 2001, p. 16.
620 W. Wybranowski, Krokodyle łzy Grossa, “Nasz Dziennik” 3 VII 2001, p. 16.
621 J. R. Nowak, Dyletanci atakują. Jedwabne a zbrodnie na kresach, “Głos. Tygodnik
Katolicko-Narodowy ” 10 III 2001, p. 14.
622 J. R. Nowak, Zapomniany heroizm Jedwabnego, “Niedziela” 17 VI 2001, p. 8.
623 A. Zambrowski, Gross kłamstw, “Najwyższy Czas” 15 IV 2001, p. XV.
624 See A. Zambrowski, Źdźbło w cudzym oku, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 32,
p. 19; T. M. Płużański, Od sypania do “Sąsiadów”, an interview with A. Zambrowski,
“Najwyższy Czas!” 30 IX 2001, p. XI-XII.
625 W. Wybranowski, Krokodyle łzy Grossa, “Nasz Dziennik” 3 VII 2001, p. 16
182 Chapter III
made it all happen: they were supposed to be the coordinators and at least direct
participants of the pogrom. Therefore, any spontaneous participation of Polish
neighbours in the crime was out of the question, not to mention a rank-and-file
initiative. The Polish role in this German scenario was described by the defen-
sive camp in at least two different ways. Those who were inclined to
acknowledge Polish voluntary participation stressed that those Poles had been a
small and vicious margin or, as a “Życie” journalist noted, they represented the
local “mob”.626 Guided by the desire for a quick profit and/or revenge for Jewish
attitude under Soviet occupation, they played the role of “avengers-
volunteers”.627
Oftentimes, however, Polish participation in the crime was depicted not as
voluntary, but forced by the Germans: executing commands was necessary as
disobedience meant death. Besides, some strongly stressed that Polish participa-
tion had not involved the act of murder but only its organisation; moreover,
Poles had not even been aware of the aim of the preparations that they had been
forced to participate in by the Germans. Therefore, they played their auxiliary
role unwittingly and, for certain, unintentionally.
Needless to say, these two variants of the Polish role in the Jedwabne pog-
rom, observable in the defensive camp, were only ideal types. To begin with, the
boundaries between them are blurred. Their characteristic narratives frequently
coexisted in the opinions expressed by the debaters and took on hybrid shapes,
such as an assumption of a spontaneous involvement in the crime by some
Poles, motivated by revenge, and a forced help of other Polish participants. An-
yway, the defendants of Polish innocence considered Germans to be the inspir-
ers, organisers and at least the main co-perpetrators of the murder in Jedwabne,
as if the drama involved only them and the murdered Jews. Sometimes, Polish
participation was denied completely, and Germans were made out to be the only
ones responsible for initiating and realising the plan for the extermination of the
Jedwabne Jews.
Hence, the debaters from the defensive camp referred to the historians who
also represented this trend and argued the key role of the Germans in the Jed-
wabne crime, minimised the role of Poles and wrote much about the disgraceful
attitudes of Jews under the Soviet occupation. The unchallenged authority for
the whole “self-defence camp” was undoubtedly Tomasz Strzembosz, whose
opinions and statements were set against Gross’s views, unmasking his “distor-
tions” and refuting his theories. Also Piotr Gontarczyk, Marek Jan Chodakie-
wicz and historians more radical in their views, such as Leszek Żebrowski and
Ryszard Bender, played a similar role of academic authorities whose texts inval-
idating the findings of Jan Tomasz Gross could be quoted. The true oracle for
the radical wing of the self-defence camp, however, was Jerzy Robert Nowak.
His numerous articles and commentaries were systematically published in
“Głos”, “Nasz Dziennik” and the Catholic weekly “Niedziela”, in which the au-
thor initiated a whole series of publications, titled: “100 kłamstw Jana Tomasza
Grossa” [eng. “100 Lies of Jan Tomasz Gross”], later released as a book628. It
was not the only book undermining almost everything Gross stated in “Neigh-
bors” and exposing the “implicit intentions” of the author, which was released
during the debate629.
The defenders of Polish innocence faithfully supported those historians who
attempted to demonstrate that the German role in the Jedwabne massacre was
not limited to taking photographs and filming. Although new circumstantial evi-
dence that appeared in the course of the investigation was never confirmed, it
was used, together with documents which never truly undermined Gross’s key
findings and were not contradictory to them, as a pretext to triumphantly re-
interpret the events, with a sense of relief. These processes are noticeable if only
in the titles of press articles: “Germans were there”,630 “Germans burnt...”,631
“The murder was committed by Germans”,632 “Germans were in Jedwabne”,633
“Great mystification”,634 “Without Polish Participation”,635 “Innocent nation”
and “Gross was wrong”.636 Certainly, Gross’s book contained some proven in-
accuracies and mistakes, one of which even resulted in a libel action brought
against him. These did not, however, concern his key findings. Anyway, each
mistake or inaccuracy was greeted with enthusiasm by the defensive camp and
treated as evidence of Gross’s lies and his false, unsubstantiated accusations.
The crowning evidence of Gross’s ‘falsification’ and, at the same time, of
Polish innocence and German perpetration, was supposed to be the results of the
628 See J. R. Nowak, Sto kłamstw J. T. Grossa o Jedwabnem i żydowskich sąsiadach, War-
szawa 2001.
629 See J. Wysocki, Jedwabne kłamstwa, Koszalin 2001; H. Pająk, Jedwabne geszefty, Lu-
blin 2001; L. Niekrasz, Operacja “Jedwabne”. Mity i fakty, Wrocław 2001; E. Marci-
niak, Jedwabne w oczach świadków, Włocławek 2001.
630 W. Kaminski, Niemcy tam byli, “Życie” 16 III 2001, p. 1.
631 A. Gryczka, Niemcy spalili..., “Życie” 27 III 2001, p. 1.
632 (H.P.), Zbrodni dokonali Niemcy, “Nasz Dziennik” 17-18 III 2001, p. 16.
633 T. M. Płużański, Niemcy byli w Jedwabnem, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 13,
p. 13.
634 K. Karsicki, Wielka mistyfikacja, “Nasza Polska” 3 IV 2001, p. 1, 8-9.
635 M. Wójcik, Bez udziału Polaków, “Nasz Dziennik” 27 III 2001, p. 1, 2.
636 K. Wełnicki, Gross się pomylił, “Nasz Dziennik: 25 III 2001, p. 2.
184 Chapter III
1941 from Jewish and Soviet communists acting arm-in-arm. Jews were por-
trayed as traitors who had denounced Poles and made lists of their Polish neigh-
bours assigned to be deported to the USSR and as ruthless tormentors of the
Polish nation characterised by particular cruelty. In other words, the pens of
numerous journalists painted a picture of murders and harm suffered by Poles
from their Jewish neighbours as if they were settling accounts by counter-
accusation.
Although the majority of debaters who touched upon the subject of Jewish
attitudes under Soviet occupation emphasised that their purpose was only to
show the motive of the murder and consider its wider context – not to justify its
perpetrators – in many cases it was hard to trust the honesty of those declared
intentions. There were also some debaters, however, who never even tried to
hide behind such a rhetorical facade: according to them, the revenge motive was
an extenuating circumstance for the murder and somehow justified its perpetra-
tors. Maciej Giertych was representative of such an attitude: he claimed that
“[Jewish – author’s note] collaboration with the occupier was not an isolated
phenomenon and must have caused aversion among the ‘neighbours’. It could
have been a reason for lynchings, if there were any, and every normal court
would acknowledge it as an extenuating circumstance. But Gross obviously does
not care.”641
It is somehow comprehensible that those defenders of Polish innocence,
who agreed that some Poles had taken part in the pogrom, interpreted their mo-
tives as a revenge for the Jewish attitudes under the Soviet occupation. It is par-
adoxical, however, that the same argument was used by the group of defenders
who denied Polish compliance. If, as they claim, Poles had been forced to help
the Germans and were only background actors in the massacre, they would not
have had any motives. Therefore, the whole context of Jewish attitudes under
Soviet occupation should lose its validity as a mitigating factor.
However, all descriptions of the disgraceful attitude of Jewish communists
towards Poles between 1939 and 1941 were only part of a more developed in-
dictment against Jews for their numerous crimes against the Polish nation,
brought by some of the defenders of Polish innocence. This “confession of
someone else’s crimes” was certainly characteristic of this wing of the defence.
It was an attempt to depict Jews as perpetrators, not victims, and often consisted
of categorical calls for Jews to account for their own past and to confess their
sins against Poles. So what should Jews apologise to Poles for in that case?
The argument most often used, already stated above, concerned Jewish be-
haviour under the Soviet occupation 1939-1941: not only how they “whole-
641 M. Giertych, Jedwabne prostuje kręgosłupy, “Myśl Polska” 19 VIII 2001, p. 16.
186 Chapter III
heartedly” welcomed the Soviet army, but also committed all other sins against
Poles from this period – which the journalist Helena Pasierbska in “Nasz Dzien-
nik” explained by referring to the “everlasting anti-Polonism” deeply grounded
in Jewish mentality.642 The whole defensive camp seemed to use, in one way or
another, the argument of Jewish attitudes under the occupation which served a
function of an overarching topos.
The list of all charges against Jews was much longer, however, and difficult
to reconstruct in detail. Accusations of disgraceful attitude included almost all
periods of the twentieth-century history of Poland, starting from the interwar
period and ending at the alleged support given by the Jews to the Round Table
arrangements. Jews were reproached for their pre-war participation in the Com-
munist Party of Poland and held responsible for installing the communist system
in postwar Poland. In “Nasz Dziennik”, Jerzy Pawlas reminded the readers how
Jews in 1939 had “celebrated the fall of the Polish state and joined the NKVD
(...) betrayed their country and their neighbours”.643 Antoni Macierewicz noted
that Poland regained its independence in 1989 “after a 50 year occupation led by
communists of Jewish origin who supported Russian bolshevism”.644 There were
even attempts to prove that communism was a Jewish idea and creation, which
was supposed to be verified by Karl Marx’s origin and an exceptional suscepti-
bility of Jews to the “Hegelian bite”.645 There were texts about nameless Jews
from NKVD and Cheka, Jews in UB and SB [secret police] and the crimes they
were supposed to commit. Concrete examples were also used, with the names
and surnames of the Jewish communists responsible for suffering and death of
many Poles: Salomon Morel, Anatol Fejgin, Helena Wolińska, Jakub Berman,
Stefan Michnik and many other Jewish murderers, given a symbolic status in the
national-Catholic discourse.
Much attention was devoted to the postwar period of violence: the Stalinist
era in Poland. Violence was attributed to Jewish communists, who were mem-
bers of the justice administration and state security service. Piotr Semka even
suggested that their inclination to violence could have been the result of some
post-Holocaust trauma. “How many of the UB officers of Jewish origin” –
Semka asked – “tried to get over the war oppression, fighting with ‘fascists’
from AK [Armia Krajowa – underground forces loyal to the Polish government
in exile]? (...) Wasn’t it true that people shocked by the enormity of murder they
saw during the Holocaust found some sort of relief in their postwar cruelties?”646
Other debaters did not always analyse the causes of these cruelties, focusing in-
stead on exemplifying them or only reminding readers about them.
This particular category, “confession of someone else’s crimes”, also in-
cluded Jewish sins committed against Poles during World War II. For example,
the journalist Krystian Brodacki wrote in his extensive article published in
“Tygodnik Solidarność” that Jewish police, ordered by the Gestapo, carried out
two public executions of Poles in Cracow.647 Numerous and cruel murders of the
Polish civilian population, allegedly committed by Jewish partisans together
with Ukrainians, Belarusians or Soviets, were also recalled. In addition, the de-
cision to murder Polish officers in Katyń was attributed to Jews. One of the
journalists announced that in Western Europe “they evilly do not want to
acknowledge that the Holocaust was meant for Poles and for Poland. And that it
was committed with the hands of Germans, Russians and, in the end, Jews from
UB.”648 There were even some voices that ”Jewish Gestapo’’ denounced Poles
who hid Jews during the German occupation.
Let us finish here, however, this laconic and incomplete deliberation about
harm supposedly done to Poles by Jews and extensively described by the radical
defenders of Polish innocence. They used the Jedwabne pogrom and the public
debate around it as an excellent opportunity to recall the amount of Polish suf-
fering for which Jews were supposed to be responsible. One “Głos” journalist
wrote about it openly: summarising the public dispute over the Jedwabne mas-
sacre he noticed only one advantage of the debate: “The Jedwabne case” – he
pointed out – “allowed us to remember the enormity of Jewish murders (...). It
reminded us about Jewish participation in the physical extermination of the best
sons of the Polish Nation, as well as in the destruction of Polish culture and sci-
ence, the falsification of history, the persecution of the Church and the twisting
of the minds of a few generations of Poles.” 649
In the radical defence camp, “Confessing someone else’s sins” was not lim-
ited to listing Jewish sins against Poles: Jews were also accused of supporting
Germans in the Holocaust and advised to come to terms with this part of their
inheritance instead of accusing Poles of their complicity. The evidence that Jews
had contributed to the Holocaust and supported Germans in its every stage was
offered by referring to the Jewish police in ghettos, the Jewish Gestapo,
650 T. Kuczyńska, Nauka o holokauście, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 18, p. 16.
651 T. Kornaś, I tak winni są Polacy..., “Najwyższy Czas!” 17 II 2001, p. XXXI-XXXII.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 189
participating in the Holocaust. The book was seen as another piece of faked evi-
dence of the supposed Polish atavistic and “drunk with mother’s milk” anti-
Semitism, and as yet another anti-Polish campaign led by Jews after the dispute
about the Carmelite Sisters’ convent and the religious symbols in Auschwitz-
Birkenau. Gross’s book was also perceived as evidence of Jewish hatred and
prejudice against Poles and another manifestation of the slandering and humili-
ating of the Polish nation. What is more, in the debate over Jedwabne, a conspir-
acy theory was gradually emerging. “Neighbors” was supposedly the integral
element of the conspiracy against Poles and Gross the co-conspirator.
The existence of such a secret plan or plot was suggested for example by the
Archbishop of Warsaw, Cardinal Józef Glemp, who said in the “Józef” Radio
that a year before he had been informed by a “solemn Jew that the Jedwabne
case would be publicised soon”.652 Two months later in an interview for the
Catholic News Agency he stated that “Neighbors” had clearly been written “on
order”.653 He did not specify, however, on whose order. Similarly, Bishop Ordi-
narius of Łomża Stanisław Stefanek confessed in his sermon that he had already
found out about the approaching “great attack on Jedwabne” from his Warsaw
friends, “in a discreet conversation, with lowered voices”. But that was not all
that Bishop Stefanek had to say in his Jedwabne sermon: he also argued that the
assault on Jedwabne was actually “an attack on our understanding of World War
II” and that we all were “in the middle of an enormous storm whose initiators
mean to inflame our minds with a spiral of suspicions and hatred”.654 Unfortu-
nately, neither the Bishop nor the Cardinal specified who these initiators were.
Mystery and ambiguity are fundamental principles on which conspiracy theories
are based. Conspiracy theorists trust their recipients’ intuition and leave them a
margin of freedom in interpreting their words. Therefore, both Glemp’s and
Stefanek’s words were quoted in press as evidence that “the attack on Jedwab-
ne” had been prepared much earlier.
There were also some journalists, however, who openly and directly wrote
about “Operation ‘Jedwabne’”, as “Myśl Polska” called it655 and who represent-
ed a strong, defensive attitude. Occasionally, they used different rhetoric, but
were virtually unanimous in analysing the reasons behind Gross’s decision to
652 (KAI), Wina uznana sprawiedliwie. Wystąpienie prymasa Polski kardynała Józefa
Glempa, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 5 III 2001, p. 6.
653 Żydzi powinni uznać, że są winni wobec Polaków. Wywiad Prymasa Polski ks.
kardynała Józefa Glempa dla KAI, “Nasz Dziennik” 15 V 2001, p. 10.
654 See Moralny obowiązek dochodzenia do prawdy. Homilia JE ks. biskupa Stanisława
Stefanka, ordynariusza łomżyńskiego, wygłoszona 11 marca 2001 r. podczas mszy św.
w kościele parafialnym w Jedwabnem. As cited in “Nasz Dziennik” 13 III 2001, p. 4.
655 J. Engelgard, Operacja “Jedwabne”, “Myśl Polska” 18 III 2001, p. 1.
190 Chapter III
write “Neighbors”. The analysis of press articles and other public utterances
shows two main motivations attributed to Gross’s decision. First of all, revealing
the Jedwabne pogrom was intended to: hold Poles responsible for the Holocaust;
deprive them of pride in their heroic actions during World War II; destroy the
national axiom that Poles had never fallen into the disgrace of collaboration with
the Nazis; and question the status of Poles as solely victims of Hitler rather than
perpetrators. A lot was written on this subject in the national-Catholic press, but
not only there: Jarosław Kaczyński at the Law and Justice political campaign
inauguration also stated that in Poland there were powers “trying to defame us,
make us Hitler’s accomplices” and received a loud ovation for these words.656
Although his statement referred to some local “powers”, it fitted the wider con-
text created by other debaters in other countries who went much further, cross-
ing Polish borders with their conspiracy theories.
Some of them made an effort to keep alive the narrative typical of the March
1968 propaganda. Following the example of March orators, they suggested that
the purpose of accusing Poles of the Jedwabne massacre and, ipso facto, partici-
pation in the Holocaust, was to relieve the Germans of the burden of their re-
sponsibility for murdering Jewish people by making Poles co-perpetrators.
Therefore, there were attempts to prove some sort of Jewish-German pact,
which Jews entered into in exchange for substantial war reparations. In their
open letter to “Brother Jews”, the members of the Journalist Circle of the Polish
People’s Party wrote about the sole responsibility of the “forces influenced by
the Germans” for the “propaganda war” unleashed against “the good name of
our Nation”. They clearly stated that “one of the reasons for this war was Ger-
man determination to conceal the unique character of the German state’s anti-
Semitism and its murders from the period 1939-1945, in which the entire, cul-
pable German nation participated”. In the opinion of the Circle members, it was
“the German intriguers and Polish political ignoramuses who supported them”
who decided to put Jedwabne on the “list containing symbols of the alleged
genocide committed by Poles under the German occupation.”657
Much more often, however, it was suggested that accusing Poles of the Jed-
wabne crime and complicity in the Holocaust was intended to facilitate the pro-
cess of paying financial claims made by Jews against the Polish state. Here we
can see the other motive attributed to Gross’s decision to write his book and, at
the same time, an attempt to confirm the conspiracy theory about greedy Jews:
histories” out of sight and to “justify their financial claims on Poland”.663 What
Ryszard Bugaj wrote in “Gazeta Wyborcza”, was commented upon by the chief
editor of “Myśl Polska”, Jan Engelgard, who used a truly Marxist phrase in not-
ing that the Jedwabne case served to create “an ideological superstructure aimed
at facilitating the process of laying financial claims on Poland.”664
Probably quite involuntarily, Ryszard Bugaj pointed at yet another function
of the Holocaust Industry, attributed to it by other debaters. The real purpose of
the accusations against Poles of their anti-Semitism, participation in the Holo-
caust and the Jedwabne pogrom was supposedly to divert attention from the Is-
raeli policy towards Palestinians and the problem of Jewish participation in the
Holocaust.
This is what the narratives woven by many participants of the debate and
conventionally called “a conspiracy theory” looked like. Its purpose was to ex-
plain the origin of “Neighbors” and the intentions of its author, Jan Tomasz
Gross, accusing him and his book of a wide range of anti-Polish actions. Obvi-
ously, even the most radical defenders hardly ever used the “conspiracy” word.
Much more often they wrote about a “crusade”, “an attack”, “a campaign” or
speculated about some mysterious “defaming plan” of which Poles were the vic-
tims.665 Some even argued that Jedwabne was only a prelude to far-flung actions
against Poland.
Debaters presenting opposing arguments were constantly criticised by the
defenders of Polish innocence. To quote Maciej Łętowski, they were defined
either as “national flagellants”666 or just co-founders and co-participants of the
anti-Polish campaign. Needless to say, most objections were raised towards
“Gazeta Wyborcza”, but also “Tygodnik Powszechny”, “Wprost” weekly,
“Znak” and “Więź” magazines; the “Freedom Union” party, the left wing in
general; Leon Kieres, Maria Janion, Reverend Stanisław Musiał and all the oth-
ers who never sprang to defend the Polish innocence paradigm but who took
part in the debate and were visible; those who beat their own breast instead of
the breasts of others, or who deliberated not on the Holocaust industry but on the
moral responsibility of the Jedwabne citizens for the murder of Jews. The debat-
ers who denied Polish voluntary participation in the massacre or claimed that
Poles had never taken any part in the pogrom even under compulsion, felt they
were relieved of responsibility. The rest of the defenders, who were inclined to
663 R. Bugaj, Prawda historyczna i interes materialny, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 6-7 I 2001,
p. 20.
664 J. Engelgard, Operacja “Jedwabne”, “Myśl Polska” 18 III 2001, p. 1.
665 A. Zambrowski, Plan zniesławiania, “Najwyższy Czas!” 9-16 VI 2001, p. L-LI.
666 M. Łętowski, Przedsiębiorstwo “Pokuta”, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 2001, No. 6, p. 5.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 193
some sort of secret plan.671 Nonetheless, a senior Church official stated that nei-
ther the Jedwabne massacre nor Polish participation in it could be questioned,
which was often referred to and appreciated. Some debaters noted, however, that
when the Primate had mentioned the “prayer of atonement” he also warned
against getting involved in the projects of some politicians, which was a clear
reference to Aleksander Kwaśniewski’s initiative. Indeed, the Primate spoke
about “the prayer of atonement” in Warsaw and not in Jedwabne. The twisted
casuistry and rhetoric of the Cardinal’s speech was criticised as well.
As opposed to Aleksander Kwaśniewski, who only strengthened and ex-
plained his original words in the course of the debate, the Primate of Poland per-
sonally belittled the meaning of his own words and, above all, gave reasons to
doubt the honesty of his intentions. He also altered the meaning of the decision
made by the Episcopal Conference about a penitential service to be held on 27
May 2001 in the Warsaw All Saints’ Church, to which rabbi Michael Schudrich
would be invited and during which the bishops would “apologise to God for the
murders of Jews committed in Jedwabne and other towns”.672 Announcing this
decision, Primate Glemp stated that the prayer would not be only for Jedwabne
victims but also for “other sins, against Polish Catholics, committed partly by
Polish Jews”. According to Glemp’s explanations, he only wanted to extend “the
formula of the meeting” and that the bishops would also apologise to God for
“all manifestations of hatred which resulted in human suffering”, including
Poles who “were for example murdered by the Nazis for saving Jews or suffered
because of wrong done by Jews, e.g. during the establishment of communism”.
“I expect”, Glemp continued, “that the Jewish side will carry out a self-
evaluation and apologise to Poles for these crimes”.673
In other words, the memorable phrase from the historical letter from Polish
bishops to German bishops: “we forgive and ask for forgiveness” underwent a
peculiar transformation and took a conditional shape: “we apologise and expect
an apology”. In Jasna Góra, on 3 May 2001, a day after expressing his expecta-
671 As cited in: (KAI) (Catholic Information Agency), Wina uznana sprawiedliwie. Wystą-
pienie prymasa Polski kardynała Józefa Glempa, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 5 III 2001, p. 6;
(KAI), Prymas Polski kard. Józef Glemp w radiu “Józef”(4. 03. 2001): Nie chodzi
o krzykliwą pokutę, “Gazeta Polska” 7 III 2001, p. 19.
672 The decision about this penitential service was made on 2 May during the 311th plenary
session of the Polish Episcopate Conference. On the next day Primate Glemp an-
nounced it in his sermon held at Jasna Góra.
673 All said on 2 May 2001 during a press conference held directly after the closing of the
plenary session of the Polish Episcopate Conference. As cited in (WK, PAP, KAI),
Przeprosić Boga, “Życie” 4 V 2001, p. 1; (JAK, PAP), Za winy nasze i winy wasze,
“Gazeta Wyborcza” 4 V 2001, p. 1.
196 Chapter III
tion of a Jewish apology to Poles, Cardinal Glemp said in his sermon that “histo-
ry and memories also record Jews destroying their own compatriots”. Therefore,
he argued that this was something they should apologise for. He also suggested
that the Jedwabne affair was part of a particular campaign. Referring to the dis-
pute about the location of the Carmelite Sisters’ convent in Oświęcim [Ausch-
witz], Glemp stated that “now that the Weiss [a controversial rabbi who actively
protested against the location of the convent – author’s note] vs. Carmelites bo-
nanza is over; the time has come for Gross and Jedwabne”674.
Numerous controversial statements and anti-Semitic clichés could also be
found at the same time in the interview given by the Primate of Poland to the
Catholic News Agency in the middle of May. He spoke for example about a
continuous “crusade” against the Church, aimed at forcing an apology for Jed-
wabne; about “Neighbors” which was written “on order”; about Jews who were
not liked before the war for their “odd folklore” and Bolshevik sympathies;
about the economic background of the pre-war Polish-Jewish relations – be-
cause Jews were “more cunning” than Poles and were able to take advantage of
them; about the anti-Judaism that he could not see, although he could see the
problem of anti-Polonism. Moreover, Primate Józef Glemp once more raised for
consideration the proposal that Jews should acknowledge and confess their sins
against Poles and stated that President Aleksander Kwaśniewski did not have “a
formal title to speak in the name of the nation”.675 By the way, he had already
announced in one of the television interviews that he would not go to Jedwabne
on the 60th anniversary of the massacre because he did not want to participate in
a “spectacle”.676
All of the Primate’s statements were intensively commented upon and vari-
ously evaluated. While for some, the Primate’s proposal that Jews should con-
fess their sins against Poles was fully justified and understandable, others point-
ed out that disinterest was a condition of honest apology and that it could not be
a tie-in agreement. “Trading in moral acts” – Reverend Stanisław Musiał wrote
– “should not be known to Christianity, which is based on gratuitousness of
God’s redemption.”677 Glemp’s announcement of his absence in Jedwabne on
the 60th anniversary of the massacre was also widely discussed. As one of the
674 See Wychodzić spod władzy ciemności. Homilia Prymasa Polski ks. kardynała Józefa
Glempa, wygłoszona na Jasnej Górze 3 maja 2001r., “Nasz Dziennik” 5-6 V 2001,
p. 17.
675 As cited in Żydzi powinni uznać, że są winni wobec Polaków, Wywiad Prymasa Polski
ks. kardynała Józefa Glempa dla KAI, “Nasz Dziennik” 15 V 2001, p. 10.
676 See (PAP), Nie robić widowisk, “Rzeczpospolita” 14 IV 2001, p. 2.
677 (ks.) S. Musiał, Prosimy, pomóżcie nam być lepszymi, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 21V 2001,
p. 24.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 197
“Wprost” journalists aptly predicted, this forewarned absence of the head of the
Catholic Church was interpreted by part of public opinion as a heroic resistance
to the Jewish pressure and the ongoing crusade.”678 Following such logic, “Myśl
Polska” weekly found Cardinal Glemp’s refusal to be a very important declara-
tion and a “signal that the actions of some circles that planned the ‘Jedwabne”
operation and wanted to involve the President, Prime Minister, Parliament
Speakers and the Primate of Poland into the ‘act of penance’ are slowly collaps-
ing.”679
Let us, however, skip detailed reconstructions of the panoply of opinions
towards the Primate’s standpoint and the Episcopal decision. Various utterances
of senior Church officials clearly demonstrate that, since the beginning of the
Jedwabne debate, there had been no unanimous voice of the Church; conse-
quently, the hierarchs’ opinions about the validity and formula of the symbolic
expiation were varied. Without doubt, Archbishops Józef Życiński, Henryk
Muszyński, and Bishop Tadeusz Pieronek680 consistently supported the idea of
unconditional apology, ‘act of penance’, ‘asking for forgiveness’ and ‘clearing
the conscience’, that is, acknowledging Polish guilt and moral responsibility for
the sins of past generations. Contrary to them, but similarly to Primate Glemp,
Bishop Bronisław Dembowski demanded an apology “from representatives of
the Jewish nation for their membership in the NKVD and UB”.681 Also, Bishop
Stanisław Stefanek in his sermon in Jedwabne mentioned that the “best profit is
now to be made on the innocent blood of murdered Jews” (he called it “Shoah
business”) and “the attack on Jedwabne” was all about money. The bishop did
not say anything about Polish guilt but suggested that someone “unwound a spi-
ral of hatred – hatred that made Nero burn Rome and slander Christians.”682
The narratives of individual priests were also diverse. Suffice to say that the
rector of Jedwabne parish, Edward Orłowski, and Reverend Waldemar
Chrostowski found the idea of saying “we apologise and ask for forgiveness” to
Jews “pathological”, one-sided and humiliating for Poles. Like the Primate of
Poland, Reverend Chrostowski demanded reciprocity for a list of Jewish sins
against Poles.683 Prelate Henryk Jankowski from the Saint Bridget’s Church in
Gdańsk did not disappoint his supporters and joined the debate using his charac-
teristic methods: he manifested his credo through the Easter decoration of the
miniature Holy Sepulchre. There was a miniature, charred barn placed on one
side of the altar, surrounded by candles, with a skeleton protruding from it, and a
figure of Jesus Christ surrounded by numerous skulls on the other. Under the
peculiar installation the inscription read: “Jews killed Jesus Lord and the proph-
ets; they also prosecuted us” and “Father, forgive them; for they know not what
they do.” Providing the interpretation is right, this was the way in which Prelate
Henryk Jankowski demanded an apology from Jews for their sins dating back to
the distant past but also for more contemporary wrongs listed minutely by many
of the debaters. There were also other priests, however, such as Reverend
Stanisław Musiał and Reverend Michał Czajkowski, who did not take any eva-
sive actions, did not try to relativise Jedwabne and had no doubts about which
standpoint to adopt towards it.
To put aside the opinions expressed by senior Church officials and by indi-
vidual priests, the fact remains that by Episcopal decision, an expiatory service
was planned to be held on 27 May 2001 in the All Saint’s Church, Warsaw, and
the bishops declared they would apologise to God for the Jedwabne massacre.
Another apology, but at a different time and in a different place, was announced
by the Polish President Aleksander Kwaśniewski. Secular and religious powers
differed in styles of speech, arguments and the choice of time and place for per-
forming their act of repentance but both declared the same aim and the belief
that the murder had been committed by Poles.
The two proclaimed acts of symbolic apology received mixed reception;
however, they soon became key elements of the debate – particularly the Presi-
dent’s apology, which became a dividing line. Needless to say, the clearest divi-
sion was between the defenders of Polish innocence and the moralists, called
“national flagellants” by the former group. A positive attitude towards the Presi-
dent’s idea came from those acknowledging Polish participation in the Jedwab-
ne massacre and the fact that our national legacy consisted not only of pride in
our great compatriots but also of disgrace for the crimes of ordinary citizens. A
critical attitude was simply a consequent continuation of taking the defensive
stand: that is, minimising or questioning Polish participation in the Jedwabne
massacre. Nonetheless, there were also debaters who had no doubts about the
683 P. Paliwoda, Kto utrudnia dialog?, an interview with ks. W. Chrostowski, “Życie” 10
IV 2001, p. 15.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 199
perpetrators of the Jedwabne massacre and never defended against taking the
responsibility for the sins committed by past generations, but expressed certain
fears concerning the apology announced by the President. It would be impossi-
ble, however, even to compare these doubts with the rhetoric used by declared
opponents of the President’s initiative, whose standpoint is worth considering.
Those who questioned any Polish participation in the Jedwabne massacre con-
sidered the President’s apology in the name of the nation to be an “absolutely
unjustified”684 act, to quote Andrzej Chrzanowski, a Member of Parliament from
the Christian National Union party, who wrote these words in his letter to the
President. Much more often, however, the debaters believed that the massacre
had been committed by only a margin of Polish society and stressed that the
President had no right to apologise in the name of Poles and that the blame
should not be put on the whole nation. The announcement of the President’s
apology was interpreted as acknowledging and extending the blame for Jedwab-
ne to all Poles, including those who had saved Jews during the war or were born
after the war. Some even maliciously asked whether apologising in the name of
all Poles included the name of Emmanuel Olisadebe, a popular Nigerian-born
Polish footballer.685
Many of the debaters, including those who had no doubts about Polish per-
petrators and did not call them a “social margin”, referred to the argument that
blame and responsibility can only be individual and therefore rebuffed the as-
sumption that the President’s initiative accepted the collective responsibility.
Additionally, some of them stressed that using the term “national guilt” was na-
tionalistic: they found it an á rebours manifestation of ethnocentrism; an absolut-
isation of the idea of nation and an example of “pars pro toto”. “Najwyższy
Czas!” even published an example letter to the President declaring denial of the
rule of collective responsibility and asking him to emphasise that his apology for
the Jedwabne crime in the name of the Polish nation did not include the name of
the sender. 686
Apparently, under certain conditions, some were inclined to acknowledge
some sort of national responsibility but the fact that the murder was committed
by a “social margin” – a small, pathological group of social scum – was the rea-
son not to apologise. “I can apologise for what is typical of my nation” – a
“Życie” journalist wrote – “but not for the attitudes of social margins”.687
688 See D. Wielowieyska, W.Załuska, Rzeczpospolitej trzeba się bać, an interview with
J. Kaczyński, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 16-17 VI 2001, p. 15.
689 E. Czaczkowska, Morderca wyrzeka się człowieczeństwa, “Rzeczpospolita” 21 IV 2001,
p. 9.
690 P. Jakucki, Wyrok na Polskę, “Nasza Polska” 27 III 2001, p. 1.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 201
it was the party in which Aleksander Kwaśniewski “later made such a brilliant
career” that launched an anti-Semitic campaign in 1968.691 Considering that, at
more or less the same time, the “Gazeta Polska” daily revealed that the head of
the Foreign Office of the Chancellery of the President was Andrzej Majkowski,
who actively participated in this campaign, Bugaj’s remark was hardly inci-
dental or neutral. Majkowski’s case and particularly Kwaśniewski’s decision not
to remove him from office inspired some journalists to accuse the President of
an asymmetric attitude: on one hand, he announced the apology for Jedwabne,
on the other, he turned out to have understanding for the anti-Semitic past of a
state official. The accusation of inconsistency was clearly meant to undermine
the honesty of the President’s intentions and to question his legitimacy to apolo-
gise to the Jews.
The apology announced by Aleksander Kwaśniewski was also criticised us-
ing openly anti-Semitic rhetoric. It was insinuated that the President took the
Jewish side instead of defending Polish honour; that he represented Jewish in-
terests in Poland; worked for the “Holocaust industry” and that the purpose of
his apology was only to help Jewish financial claims — the apology was a prel-
ude to their reparation demands. In “Nasza Polska” daily it was suggested sever-
al times that Aleksander Kwaśniewski was simply a Jew, which was naturally
supposed to explain his attitude. He was called to respond to the charges brought
against his father, whose “real” name was Stolzman, who “was an NKVD of-
ficer and betrayed Polish patriots to the Soviets.”692 The journalist Leszek Czaj-
kowski offered his readers a riddle: “If President Kwaśniewski expresses the
need to apologise in the name of his nation... who is actually going to apologise
to whom?”693
Opponents of the apology also stated that such an act could doubtlessly be
interpreted as the confirmation of Polish compliance in the Holocaust, which
should never be allowed to happen. In consequence, various petitions, open let-
ters and declarations that aimed to dissuade the President from his plans ap-
peared. Some debaters, objecting to the announced acts of expiation (both Presi-
dential and Episcopal), emphasised that Poles had already apologised enough on
numerous occasions and it was time for Jews to apologise to them. Even Lech
Wałęsa said this.694
Some opinions focused on the reciprocity rule that many demanded be ap-
plied to the potential apology. Such an attitude was represented, for example, by
a member of Parliament from the Christian National Union party, who made the
following declaration for “Nasza Polska” magazine: “I am ready to say the
words ‘I apologise’ – but on two conditions. First, I need to know what I am
apologising for. I am apologising for a handful of outcasts. Second, I may do
that if someone from the Jewish side apologises for what the Jews did under the
Soviet occupation between 1939 and 1941: for the massive collaboration of the
Jewish population with the Soviet occupier; for fighting against Polish under-
ground forces in the area; and finally – for murdering Poles.”695
Thus, Michał Kamiński went one step further than the Primate of Poland,
Cardinal Józef Glemp, who, admittedly, demanded reciprocity and acknowl-
edgment by Jews of their sins against Poles and an apology for them, but did not
make this a condition of the expiation act of Polish bishops. Besides, he never
spoke of “a handful of outcasts”. Nonetheless, the Primate’s idea also gained its
admirers among the debaters for whom only a reciprocal apology made good
sense.
Obviously, the above-mentioned arguments, undermining the point of the
apology in the name of the whole nation, did not necessarily mean that their us-
ers represented the defensive stand. This reservation particularly refers to those
debaters who questioned the President’s initiative only because of their disa-
greement with the rule of collective responsibility, which, according to them, the
act of apology represented. Often, however, the “individual responsibility” ban-
ner was only a useful liberal facade behind which there were attempts to defend
Polish innocence.
The symbolic acts of expiation announced by secular and religious powers
also met with the approval of some debaters, however, who were not uncritical
or free from important doubts and fears. Their approval originated from ac-
knowledging that what a community, such as a nation, inherits from previous
generations, is not only glory but also disgrace: according to this rule, the apolo-
gy was considered obligatory. Besides, as Wojciech Sadurski wrote, for exam-
ple, an act of apology did not necessarily mean claiming collective responsibil-
ity – because an apology could also be “a manifestation of shame, not necessari-
ly guilt”.696
tions who paid such a price should have understanding for each other and should under-
stand that there were scoundrels on both sides”. As cited in: (PAP), Kiedy przeprosiny
drugiej strony?, “Nasz Dziennik” 10-11 III 2001, p. 3.
695 K. Bogomilska, Polacy stawiani pod ścianą, an interview with M. Kamiński, “Nasza
Polska” 13 III 2001, p. 10.
696 W. Sadurski, Przeprosiny są potrzebne nam samym, “Rzeczpospolita” 24 III 2001, p. 6.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 203
sion of sins and asking for forgiveness had to be honest, as they were needed by
us and not by international public opinion. In concern for the collective, national
identity, honest self-examination and purification were advised, which could not
be replaced with any symbolic gestures or rituals. “Official speeches, apologetic
gestures is one thing”, Adam Krzemiński wrote, “democratic psychotherapy –
another.”700
Therefore, some debaters were afraid that these announced acts of apology
would precede “democratic psychotherapy”, which should come first. Had the
Jedwabne massacre ever been regarded as a Polish disgrace, they wondered?
Had it been a subject of individual reflection, sorrow, repentance, some sort of
atonement? Had the ritual and symbolic act of apology replaced true, national
self-examination? Would it become a comfortable alibi? What is more, wouldn’t
this symbolic gestureclose the debate and squander the chance for national ca-
tharsis given by the debate belated by almost half a century? In other words, the
apology to be proclaimed for the Jedwabne massacre was feared to be premature
– not because the Institute of National Remembrance had not yet finished its in-
vestigation but simply because one needs to be mature to apologise.
These fears were in fact more than empty moralising. In April 2001, almost
half the Polish population (48%) surveyed by the Centre for Public Opinion Re-
search believed that Poles should not apologise to Jews for the Jedwabne massa-
cre; over one-third (34%) claimed it had been committed only by the Germans.
Polish and German complicity was presumed by 14% and only 7% believed that
only Poles had committed this crime.701 In other words, according to the survey,
every third Pole claimed that only Germans should be charged with the massa-
cre. In this context, Mark Edelman’s words, “no one should apologise because
an apology does not help in anything”, gains deeper meaning although the
commemorations planned for 10 July in Jedwabne received his recognition.702
Despite the controversies appearing over the course of the debate about the
two apologies for Jedwabne, particularly over the President’s apology, both
came into effect and both on schedule. Chronologically, the penitential service
organised on 27 May 2001 under the auspices of the Polish Episcopate in the All
Saints’ Church in Warsaw was first. Neither the choice of date nor of place was
accidental. While the choice of place was somehow symbolic, as the Church
used to border the ghetto wall during the war, the choice of time was purely
practical, indeed scheduled because of another event. The day after, in Warsaw,
reconciliation letter of 1965 from the Polish bishops to German bishops, in the
opinion of his colleague, Roman Graczyk, this prophecy was missing. And
while the Episcopate’s letter from 1965 demonstrated that the “moral con-
sciousness” of bishops had emerged earlier than “the moral consciousness of
Poles”, the Jedwabne case proved that anti-Semitism brought the Episcopate
closer to “common knowledge: facing the truth with reluctance and reserva-
tions.”707 These two very different opinions, which referred to the same event
and the Episcopate’s attitude, say a lot about the atmosphere after the Warsaw
service and comments formulated at the time.
Between the penitential service celebrated by bishops in Warsaw’s All
Saints’ Church and the 60th anniversary of the Jedwabne massacre commemo-
rated by the President, another disagreement that divided observers arose. This
concerned the content of the inscription on a new monument set up to commem-
orate the Jedwabne Jews. It was intended to replace the old monument, pulled
down in March 2001, which had stood at the crime scene since 1962. The old
inscription read: “Site of the Suffering of the Jewish Population. The Gestapo
and the Nazi Gendarmerie Burned 1,600 People Alive on 10 July 1941.”
The publication of “Neighbors” invalidated these words, although no one
had doubted them for years. Unfortunately, years later, The Council for the Pro-
tection of Struggle and Martyrdom Sites attempted to replace the lie inscribed in
stone using a dodge which was called a “compromise”. The new inscription was
suggested to be: “In memory of Jews from Jedwabne and environs, men, women
and children, co-masters of this land, murdered and burned alive at this spot on
10 July 1941. As a warning to posterity so that the sin of hatred enflamed by
German Nazism might never set the inhabitants of this land against each other.
Jedwabne, 10 July 2001. ”
The above-mentioned evasion, comfortable for the Jedwabne citizens, for
the local rector and generally for numerous people critically oriented towards
Gross’s book, was the latter part of the proposed inscription that said nothing
about the direct perpetrators of the massacre but pointed only at Nazism, en-
flaming “the sin of hatred” as the cause of the crime. One could get the impres-
sion that it was the Nazis who murdered local Jews; thus, the new inscription
was in fact hardly different from the old one. Let us skip, however, detailed de-
scriptions of the debate over this problem, in which one side demanded an in-
scription closer to the truth, and the other, that is, the defendants of Polish inno-
cence, were afraid that Poles would be mentioned as perpetrators. Suffice to say
that finally the epitaph was changed – only the first and uncontroversial part was
707 J. Turnau, Głos biskupów jasny i mocny, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 9-10 VI 2001, p. 25;
R. Graczyk, Zabrakło proroctwa, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 9-10 VI 2001, p. 24.
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 207
saved – and the decision was made a few days before the planned commemora-
tions.708
Before the celebrations were held, however, President Aleksander
Kwaśniewski, in an article published in “Polityka” daily, explained why he had
decided to apologise, in whose name he was going to apologise and what the
word “apology” meant in the context of the Jedwabne massacre. He also wrote
that Jedwabne turned out to be the greatest challenge of his presidency, as Poles
for the first time had been so severely confronted with “another face of our ac-
tions.”709 On 10 July 2001, the planned ceremonies took place in Jedwabne.
Among the participants, in addition to the President, there were politicians from
the Democratic Left Alliance and the Freedom Union, Władysław Bartoszewski,
Tadeusz Mazowiecki, Marek Safjan, Leon Kieres, Jan Tomasz Gross, the Israeli
ambassador Szewach Weiss, leaders of the World Jewish Congress and the Eu-
ropean Jewish Congress, representatives of the Washington Holocaust Memorial
Museum, of the Lutheran Church, the Protestant Reformed Church and the
Evangelical Methodist Church, Rabbi Jacob Baker, other rabbis, families of the
victims, Poles and Jews.
True to his word, the Primate of Poland, Cardinal Józef Glemp, did not ap-
pear in Jedwabne. Other bishops followed his decision. Prime Minister Jerzy
Buzek, parliamentary speakers and right-wing politicians were absent, too, as
was the Jedwabne rector; the local citizens’ attendance also left a lot to be de-
sired. Instead, in some home and shop windows, posters appeared which read:
“We do not apologise. It was Germans who murdered Jews in Jedwabne. Let the
slanderers apologise to the Polish nation.”
In the Jedwabne square where the local Jews had been gathered on 10 July
1941 and where 60 years later the commemoration began, Aleksander
Kwaśniewski took the floor.
708 Finally, the inscription on the monument at the site of the burnt barn reads as follows:
"In memory of Jews from Jedwabne and environs, men, women and children, co-
masters of this land, murdered and burned alive at this spot on 10 July 1941.”
709 This is how the president Aleksander Kwaśniewski explained the meaning and legiti-
macy of his apologies: “I can hear questions or even accusations about whether the
president should apologise in the name of the nation. Here is my answer: The president
apologises as a person shocked by what happened in Jedwabne and other towns. The
president apologises in the name of those who have a sense of guilt for the crime com-
mitted by a handful of our countrymen. The president has an obligation to apologise as
the head of the Polish state. (…) What other word, if not an apology, would be proper in
this situation? An apology is not an accusation – it is supposed to be a bridge to recon-
ciliation.” A. Kwaśniewski, Co to znaczy przepraszam, “Polityka” 14 VII 2001, p. 13.
208 Chapter III
In his speech, there were words of apology for the Jedwabne massacre: “(...)
as a citizen and as the President of the Republic of Poland, I apologise. I apolo-
gise in my own name and in the name of the Poles whose conscience has been
touched by that crime, in the name of those who believe that we cannot be proud
of the grandeur of the Polish history without experiencing the pain and shame
because of the evil committed by Poles against others.”710 Aleksander
Kwaśniewski’s speech, although doubtlessly the most anticipated, was not the
only moving statement heard that day in Jedwabne. The ambassador Szewach
Wesiss and Rabbi Jacob Baker (born in Jedwabne) also addressed the crowd.
It is impossible to summarise each of the commentaries that appeared in
press after the event, and there were many. Their reading, however, allows one
to draw a general conclusion. These commentaries clearly reflected the spectrum
of attitudes revealed during the debate and originated from them. In other words,
the attitudes towards the ceremony in Jedwabne, and particularly to President
Kwaśniewski’s speech, were analogical to the attitudes towards Gross’s
“Neighbors” and the revelation of the massacre. Thus, it is no surprise that while
Andrzej Friszke wrote “we can be proud that the Polish state, represented by its
highest officials, did not attempt to belittle Polish guilt but decided to face the
painful truth”,711 Antoni Macierewicz accused the President of treason and stat-
ed that “whatever there is to say about traitors in Polish history, such an atrocity
had never happened before”.712 “Nasz Dziennik” daily added that it was “cheek
to disgracefully apologise for the crimes the Polish Nation is not guilty of.”713
Needless to say, the commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the Jedwabne
massacre met with radically different responses. Admittedly, sometimes even
declared opponents of the President’s apology openly admitted their recognition
of the Kwaśniewski speech. Regardless of all the commentaries, 10 July 2001
was without doubt a day that proved the courage of the President, who managed
710 In his speech Aleksander Kwaśniewski also raised the issue of Polish responsibility for
the Jedwabne massacre. He said: “(...) One is not allowed to talk about a collective re-
sponsibility that would burden the citizens of a town or the whole nation. Every human
being is responsible only for his/her own deeds. The sons do not inherit the guilt of their
fathers. But are we allowed to say: ‘it was a long time ago’ or ‘it was them’? The nation
is a community. It is a community of individuals, a community of generations. That is
why we have to face the truth. Every truth. We have to say: that’s what happened. Our
consciences will be clean if looking back to these days we shall always feel horror and
moral indignation in our hearts.” See Sąsiedzi sąsiadom zgotowali ten los, Przemówie-
nie Prezydenta RP Aleksandra Kwaśniewskiego, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 11 VII 2001, p. 4.
711 A. Friszke, 10 lipca w Jedwabnem..., “Więź” 2001, No. 8, p. 3.
712 A. Macierewicz, Zdrada, państwo i niepodległość, “Głos” 21 VII 2001, p. 2.
713 W. Wybranowski, Jedwabna demokracja, “Nasz Dziennik” 11 VII 2001, p. 16
The national debate on the crime in Jedwabne 209
***
After a wave of comments about the 60th anniversary of the Jedwabne murder,
the debate over “Neighbors” began to fade away. Admittedly, there was a dis-
cussion about anti-Semitism in Poland in “Gazeta Wyborcza”, and “Rzeczpo-
spolita” published several articles about the character of Polish historiography
and the view of Polish history; however, the very problem of the Jedwabne mas-
sacre disappeared from the first pages of newspapers. Extensive articles and po-
lemic essays on the Jedwabne pogrom were replaced by shorter pieces of infor-
714 M. Giertych, Jedwabne prostuje kręgosłupy, “Myśl Polska” 19 VIII 2001, p. 16.
715 J. Tokarska-Bakir, Pułapki wczesnego przebaczenia, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 11-12 VIII
2001, p. 20.
210 Chapter III
mation and commentaries on the findings of the IPN investigation, carried out
since August 2000. Their temperature increased when Radosław Ignatiew, the
prosecutor running the investigation, informed the public in December 2001
that, according to the results of criminological research, the shells found near the
barn had not come from 1941 and had not been shot by the Germans.”716 Thus,
vain were the hopes of those who believed these shells to be the key evidence of
German perpetration and Polish innocence.
The heightened emotions aroused by the IPN investigation also accompa-
nied its annual report, presented by its president, Leon Kieres, on 27 February
2002 in the Polish parliament. Although his report related to the entirety of the
IPN activities, it was the Jedwabne investigation that sparked off a heated dis-
cussion. In fact, it instead became a trial of Leon Kieres. The prosecutor’s role
was played by the deputies from the League of Polish Families who, for exam-
ple, asked the IPN president about the origins of his submission to Jews and the
lack of interest in the crimes committed by Jewish communists on Poles. Antoni
Macierewicz accused Leon Kieres of the “unfounded and unlawful” burdening
of Poles with the murder committed by Germans and of falsifying history. Ac-
cording to Macierewicz, Kieres had also begun “stoning the Polish Nation”, the
culmination of which was President Kwaśniewski’s speech. Moreover, the
commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the Jedwabne massacre was described
by the MP Antoni Strykowski as “Jewish cheek.” 717
After 9 July 2002, a moment came when the subject of the Jedwabne massa-
cre again appeared in the first pages of newspapers. It was the day when the
prosecutor Radosław Ignatiew informed the public about the final findings of
the investigation into the Jedwabne massacre, during which dozens of witnesses
had been interrogated, Polish and German archives probed and an exhumation
had been conducted. Summarising the findings, prosecutor Ignatiew emphasised
that the massacre had been planned and organised. He confirmed the decisive
role of the Polish population in “conducting the criminal act”, whose direct per-
petrators were “Polish citizens of Jedwabne and its environs: at least forty men.”
Prosecutor Ignatiew broadly attributed to the Germans the responsibility for the
crime , that is, their consent to and inspiration for the massacre. He also stated
that “Germans, who were probably in a small group, assisted in driving the peo-
ple who were being persecuted to the market place and their active role was lim-
ited to that. It is unclear, in the light of the evidence collected, whether the Ger-
mans took part in escorting the victims to the place of mass murder, and whether
they were present at the barn. Witness testimonies vary considerably on this
question”.718
In other words, the IPN investigation confirmed Jan Tomasz Gross’s main
thesis: Jedwabne Jews had been murdered by their Polish neighbours. It could
not be proved that Germans had committed the crime or that Polish perpetrators
only obeyed the orders under the guns of German soldiers. The number of mur-
dered Jews given by Gross, however, was verified. Prosecutor Ignatiew, on the
basis of the exhumation findings, estimated that the number of victims was
around 350 although he did not rule out that it could have been larger. He also
noted that “before the people were taken away from the market, individual mur-
ders had been committed.”719
Considering the already mentioned attitudes of the participants in the debate
about the Jedwabne massacre, it is easy to guess the responses to the final find-
ings of the IPN investigation. While for some they were only a confirmation of
the sad truth they had already acknowledged, others only interpreted them as
fabricated evidence to support some arbitrary thesis with an anti-Polish under-
tone. Newspaper headlines published immediately after the press release on the
final findings of the investigation were very meaningful by themselves: “Neigh-
bours Murdered”,720 “Neighbours After All”,721 “Jedwabne – Let us Accept it
with Humility”,722 “Jedwabne massacre, Slippery Investigation”,723 “Humorous
Investigation”,724 “IPN Findings a Bungle”,725 “The Crime of the Jedwabne In-
vestigation”,726 “Crusade Against Poles”,727 “How IPN Absolved the SS”.728
While the debaters representing “critical patriotism” realised that the content of
“Neighbors” was confirmed, they drew a conclusion from that knowledge and,
like the chief editor of “Znak”, Stefan Wilkowicz, asked: “what next?”,729 the
defenders of the Polish innocence paradigm wrote serial open letters to the Insti-
dio, and hundreds of Polish press articles formed, as Dariusz Stola brilliantly
noted, “a monument made of words, a tumulus made of newsprint”. 732
On the other hand, an image of a deeply divided nation emerged from the
cacophony of different voices. At least “two Polands” could be seen. One was
the Poland ready to face the challenges posed by Jan Tomasz Gross,
acknowledge the painful truth of the national past, retell history and include
Jedwabne in collective memory, together with the Polish Righteous Among the
Nations, the heroes of the Warsaw Uprising and Maria Skłodowska-Curie. An-
other Poland remained stuck in the victim and hero syndrome: it attempted, with
determination and in the name of self-defence, to belittle and minimise the Jed-
wabne massacre and to prove Polish innocence. This Poland was represented by
Tomasz Strzembosz, Jerzy Robert Nowak and many other historians, journalists
and priests, for example the rector of Jedwabne, reverend Edward Orłowski and
the Bishop of Łomża Stanisław Stefanek. Although the defensive camp had dif-
ferent faces, what united them was the building of fortifications to entrench
themselves in the position of an innocent victim. Inability to overcome this syn-
drome became, in my opinion, the main obstacle to viewing Poles as the perpe-
trators of the Jedwabne massacre.
The debate over “Neighbors” revealed, however, not only the divisions re-
lated to the attitudes to the national past but also the vitality of a particular men-
tality, dating back to the 1930s or even to the end of the 19th century. A litmus
test of this mentality was the language used during the debate by some of its par-
ticipants. It was this language that loudly echoed the legacy of National Democ-
racy with all its reservoir of anti-Semitic clichés and stereotypes. Unfortunately,
it was not restricted only to the journalists of “Nasza Polska”, “Nasz Dziennik”
or other press considered marginal despite their large circulation and common
availability. The Primate of Poland, Cardinal Józef Glemp, also used this lan-
guage – not for the first time, by the way – and he was one of those who legiti-
mised the process of incorporating this language into the national-Catholic
press. Glemp and numerous other Church and state officials supported the attack
by the Polish innocence defenders camp, to which they often belonged.
Regarding Polish elites, yet another disturbing phenomenon, by no means
new, could be observed in the debate. The problem of the attitude of elites to-
wards the people or, in other words, the division between “lords” and “boors”
was revealed with a vengeance. How else could one explain that the perpetrators
of the Jedwabne massacre were believed to be a social margin, mob, scum and
generally, people of second category? Needless to say, the purpose of such en-
deavours was to remove the burden of the Jedwabne murder, to wash ones hands
of it. At the same time, however, by introducing this dichotomy, the Polish elites
exposed their perception of society and the nation.
A few years have passed since the national debate over the Jedwabne mas-
sacre ended. The disclosure of the crime has resulted in several significant pub-
lications, whose authors carefully examined the subject raised by Jan Tomasz
Gross.733 Nonetheless, the most important question is whether the Jedwabne
pogrom and the debate over it have in any way contributed to Polish self-
knowledge. Has the Jedwabne murder been inscribed in Polish “collective
memory”? Answers to these questions are not obvious. The results of the OBOP
survey conducted in November 2002, that is, after the IPN press release on the
final findings of the investigation and the publication of “Around Jedwabne”, do
not give reasons for optimism. Half the respondents were unable to answer the
question as to who had murdered the Jedwabne Jews: the majority of those who
had an opinion on the matter claimed the perpetrators were German rather than
Polish.734 Unfortunately, we do not know what answers would be given by Poles
today. We can only hope that the debaters, who prophetically claimed that Jed-
wabne would be forgotten after some time, were not absolutely right.
733 See e.g. A. Bikont, My z Jedwabnego, Warszawa 2004; A. Żbikowski, U genezy Je-
dwabnego, Warszawa 2006.
734 TNS OBOP: Polacy o zbrodni w Jedwabnem, grudzień 2002, Warszawa.
Chapter IV
“Fear” after Jedwabne.
The debate that almost didn’t happen.
735 J. T. Gross, Strach. Antysemityzm w Polsce tuż po wojnie. Historia moralnej zapaści,
Kraków 2008.
736 J. T. Gross, Fear; Anti-Semitism in Poland after Auschwitz: An Essay in Historical In-
terpretation, Random House, New York 2007.
216 Chapter IV
What riveted the attention of the public and critics was that, unlike “Neigh-
bors”, Jan T. Gross’s new book did not reveal any unknown historical facts.
This time, the author described different faces of anti-Semitism in Poland in the
first years after World War II, based on well-known sources and available publi-
cations. As the book dealt with anti-Semitism against Holocaust survivors, the
author focused mainly on the postwar wave of anti-Jewish violence in Polish
society, which resulted in the deaths of – according to different estimates – of
between 500 and 3,000 people.737 Depicting a series of acts of anti-Semitism,
Gross included in his book the postwar pogroms in Rzeszow, Cracow and Kiel-
ce; murders of Holocaust survivors returning to their hometowns; murders of
Jewish repatriates on trains known as “train operations”, conducted mostly by
National Armed Forces troops; murder-robberies, political assassinations and
other forms of violence. Based on official statements, press articles and private
conversations, he also describes the responses to these acts of violence – particu-
larly the Kielce pogrom – by the state, by Catholic Church authorities and by the
lay intelligentsia.
However, ”Fear” also depicts other manifestations of postwar anti-
Semitism, such as the anti-Jewish attitude of local administrations, employment
discrimination, anti-Semitism among children, and the antipathy towards Holo-
caust survivors displayed through words, gazes and gestures within local com-
munities. A separate chapter was devoted to the anti-Semitism nourished by the
myth of “Żydokomuna” (Jewish Bolshevism) – and to the deconstruction of this
anti-Semitic stereotype, which had long been used as a simple matrix to explain
complex reality. Jan T. Gross did not, however, limit his work to a simple re-
construction of facts about different manifestations of postwar anti-Semitism.
On the contrary, in accordance with the English subtitle of his book – “An Essay
In Historical Interpretation” – the author attempted to diagnose the causes of this
phenomenon and to interpret the constellation of events documented in his book.
It was mostly these that caused the greatest controversies among his adversaries.
In Gross’s opinion – and not only his – the causes of anti-Semitism and vio-
lence against Jews in Poland between 1944 and 1949 can be traced to a few dif-
ferent sources. First of all, as a result of the Holocaust, Poles came into posses-
sion of various Jewish properties – from small objects of everyday use to prop-
erties: flats, shops, workshops, etc. Therefore, quoting Elżbieta Janicka who apt-
ly summarised Gross’s thoughts: “postwar anti-Semitism (as a legitimising
mechanism) was an effect of the nationwide process of growing rich ‘on
737 See. D. Engel, Patterns of Anti-Jewish Violence in Poland, 1944-1946, Yad Vashem
Studies” 1998, no. 26, p. 43-47; J. Michlic, Anti-Jewish Violence in Poland 1918-1938
and 1945-1947, “Polin” 2000, v. 13, p. 34-61.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 217
Jews’”738 and the violence against them became a specific tool to defend newly
acquired assets. Holocaust survivors returning to their hometowns were treated
with distrust and hostility by non-Jewish Poles, including those who formed the
“Polish Third Estate”, “which did not exist before”. They “completely took over
trade, supplies, mediation and local crafts in the provinces”.739 The homecoming
of Holocaust survivors also frightened those who needed to return Jewish assets
that had once been deposited with them, either because they no longer had them
or simply did not want to give them back.
Another underlying cause of postwar anti-Semitism and violence against
Jews suggested by Gross has its source in the hatred towards a hurt victim. The
author, referring to Tacitus, noted that “it is, indeed, human nature to hate the
man whom you have injured”740. Such hatred afflicted Jews as the targeted vic-
tims of Nazism. Their very existence reminded of the inglorious attitudes of
non-Jewish Poles towards Holocaust: complicity, indifference, and passiveness.
As Gross noted: The Jews who survived the war were not threatening just be-
cause they reminded those who had availed themselves of Jewish property that
its rightful owners might come back to reclaim it. They also induced fear in
people by reminding them of the fragility of their own existence, of the propen-
sity for violence residing in their own communities (...) [and] because it called
forth their own feeling of shame and of contempt in which they were held by
their victims”.
Finally, the last cause of postwar anti-Semitism highlighted by Gross was
getting “infected with anti-Semitism”741 during the war. Not only did the Nazis
infect Poles with anti-Semitic propaganda, but they also showed to Polish wit-
nesses of the Holocaust that Jews could be humiliated, mistreated and killed
with impunity and that their lives were ‘completely worthless’. According to
Gross, “mass killings of Polish Jews, as well as of those Jews who resided east
of Poland, took place in situ (...) in countless small towns where a few hundred
or a few thousand Jews were confined to their neighbourhoods”. Polish society,
the author notes, “proved vulnerable to totalitarian temptation”742.
“Fear” included a few more of the author’s thoughts that brought controver-
sy and were the focus of the attention of his critics, such as his reflections on the
indifference of the majority of Poles towards the Holocaust happening in front
738 E. Janicka, Mord rytualny z aryjskiego paragrafu. O książce Jana Tomasza Grossa
“Strach. Antysemityzm w Polsce tuż po wojnie. Historia moralnej zapaści”, “Kultura
i Społeczeństwo” 2008, issue 2, p. 231.
739 See J. T. Gross, Fear…, p. 47.
740 Ibidem, p. 256.
741 Ibidem, p. 130.
742 Ibidem,…, p. 260.
218 Chapter IV
of their eyes. In his book, Gross ascertains that “Killings of Jews, (...) were not a
secret cloak-and-dagger operation. They were, by all appearances, a form of so-
cial control”743. What generated strong emotions was also the term “Catholic Na-
tional Democrats” used by the author in the Polish version of the book to present
a certain “cognitive orientation, according to which the Roman Catholic Church
sided strongly with the National Democrats’ worldview. Gross’s criticism of the
highest order of the clergy – including Bishop Czesław Kaczmarek and the car-
dinals Adam Sapieha, August Hlond and Stefan Wyszyński for their silence and
ambiguous attitude towards anti-Semitic acts of violence and particularly for
their lack of a strong response to the Kielce pogrom – also heated the discussion
of “Fear”. More importantly, it is the words written by Gross and the response to
them that deserve attention and at least a fragmentary reconstruction and inter-
pretation of the formulated opinions.
The setting of the debate over “Fear” was almost analogous to previous dis-
cussions referring to the difficult Polish-Jewish past. The Polish release of
“Fear”, like the release of Claude Lanzmann’s films, Jan Błoński’s articles or
Gross’s “Neighbors”, was an event that sparked off a public discussion. There-
fore, determining its start is not particularly problematic. Nor is demonstrating
its clear ending – or, shall we say, its hasty and artificial ending, which was the
publication of the materials forming part of the debate such as articles, columns,
interviews, and the records of meetings etc. by “Znak publishers”.744 In other
words, “Znak publishers” somehow attempted to control the beginning and the
end of the debate over “Fear”.
Znak had, however, no real influence over elements such as the dynamics,
trajectory and contents of the debate over Gross’s new book. Thus, it is im-
portant to ask whether debate is even a good word in this context, since it lacked
internal dynamics from the very beginning. The participants did not really refer
to each other’s texts; dialogism and referentiality were replaced with isolated
and unrelated statements. Even though some of the debaters even confessed to
not having read Gross’s book, this did not in the least deter them from formulat-
ing categorical assertions based on press commentaries and intuition. In re-
sponse, most contributors legitimised their statements by declaring their
knowledge of “Fear”. What is more, the debate over the book definitely lacked
texts or statements that could be regarded as key for its trajectory and that would
set a reference point for other debaters. What is significant and fascinating at the
same time, however, are different attempts to block the debate by the use of var-
ious strategies of invalidating the contents of the book, its cognitive value and
its author’s competence, etc. Considering the debate’s progress, timing and out-
come, these efforts were somehow successful. Before these strategies are dis-
cussed in detail, let us listen to Polish historians and to what they said in inter-
views, reviews and debates.
Naturally, there is no single, unanimous, collective entity such as “Polish
historians”; nor is there any agreed standpoint of a professional association, but
rather some dispersed voices of different representatives of this academic disci-
pline. Analysing their opinions, we can see that certain critical comments and
objections to Jan Tomasz Gross and his book are similar and repeated by many.
Generally they fall into two categories: “It is hard to engage in a rational polem-
ic with such far-fetched statements, expressed in such pungent and categorical
words. They may be accepted or dismissed because the dispute is not about
facts, which are known and usually unquestionable, but their interpretation and
the right to formulate strong accusations based thereon”.745 The other is more
metaphorical: “The problem is that The Last Judgement [a triptych by Hierony-
mus Bosch – author’s note.] consists of three panels with a few hundred figures
and numerous episodes. A glance at just one of these elements not only fails to
provide an overall image, but even makes it difficult to understand the element
itself”.746
A great number of historians emphasised that Jan Tomasz Gross had not in-
troduced any new facts in “Fear” but had only used sources already known to
scholars – mostly publications and the latest results of the study conducted by
scholars from The Polish Centre for Holocaust Research. The only aspects con-
sidered novel by a few historians were the results of Gross’s own desk research
concerning the Rzeszow pogrom, which – unlike the Cracow and Kielce pog-
roms – has not yet been analysed in detail.747 However, the lack of independent
research and the use of only well-known sources were not always considered to
be factors undermining the value of Gross’s book. According to Feliks Tych, a
long-term Director of the Jewish Historical Institute, “Fear” introduced its nu-
merous readers to sources which otherwise would have been difficult for them
to access.748
Since Jan Tomasz Gross had based his analysis on well-known sources,
publications and undeniable facts, almost none of the historians taking part in
the debate questioned them. This does not mean that no factual mistakes, faults
745 P. Machcewicz, Zbyt proste wyjaśnienie, “Więź” 2008, issue 2-3, p. 75.
746 M. Zaremba, Sąd nieostateczny, “Polityka” 2008, issue 3, p. 17.
747 See eg. A. Grabski, Krew brata twego głośno woła ku mnie z ziemi!, “Kwartalnik Histo-
rii Żydów” 2006, issue 3, p. 410.
748 F. Tych, Wokół książki Jana Tomasza Grossa “Strach”, “Kwartalnik Historii Żydów”
2008, issue 1, p. 90.
220 Chapter IV
or inaccuracies were found in his work.749 While pointing them out was sup-
posed to help preserve “scientific accuracy”, it also served another purpose.
Jerzy Jedlicki, Marcin Kula and Andrzej Friszke were certainly right when they
observed that all too often the search for mistakes and inaccuracies in “Fear” by
pedantic historians was aimed at invalidating the contents and the undertone of
the book and averting its moral call – all in the name of self-defence750. Similar-
ly, eight years beforehand, there were attempts to devalue “Neighbors” with the
use of the same techniques in public discourse.
While the facts presented in “Fear” were not questioned, what was criti-
cised were the author’s interpretations and language. A number of historians
pointed out Gross’s tendency to generalise and jump to conclusions, and his
predilections for making arbitrary judgements. The language and the tone of the
book were often criticised for their accusatory and moralistic character. Gross
himself was compared to a prosecutor, judge, moralist or missionary751 – also by
those historians who refused to recognise the academic value of “Fear” for these
very reasons. A few, however, considered this language and these strong state-
ments to be a virtue and not a disadvantage of Gross’s work. Naming important,
reliable, balanced and unemotional works concerning similar issues, they argued
that no one would take any interest in them except a narrow circle of experts.
They had not ever been a subject of public debate (even though they deserved to
be) and thus never got a chance to gain such a significant number of readers as
749 For example, Bożena Szaynok, a historian and a scientific consultant of the Polish edi-
tion of “Fear”, pointed out the author’s mistakes and incorrect interpretations. However,
she and Paweł Machniewicz found only one substantial mistake. The diary of Józef Ku-
raś, a guerrilla leader from Podhale, was forged and Gross should have known that. See
A. Klich, Gross – moralista, a nie historyk, an interview with B. Szaynok, “Gazeta Wy-
borcza” 25 I 2008, p. 25; P. Machcewicz, Zbyt proste wyjaśnienie, “Więź” 2008, issue
2-3, p. 77.
750 See J. Jedlicki, Tylko tyle i aż tyle, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 2008, issue 4; A. Friszke,
Gross i chłopcy narodowcy, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 23-24 II 2008, p. 28; M. Kula, Obroń-
cy swoich, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 16 II 2008, p. 21.
751 See F. Tych, Wokół książki Jana Tomasza Grossa “Strach”, “Kwartalnik Historii Ży-
dów” 2008, 1, p. 90; A. Stempin, Czy należy bać się “Strachu”?, “Znak” 2008, 6,
p. 126, 128; A. Klich, Gross – moralista, a nie historyk, an interview with B. Szaynok,
“Gazeta Wyborcza” 25 I 2008, s. 25; Gross – historyk z misją. Debata “Tygodnika Po-
wszechnego” i TVN 24 o książce Jana Tomasza Grossa “Strach”, [w:] Wokół “Stra-
chu”. Dyskusja o książce Jana T. Grossa, M. Gądek (ed.), Kraków 2008, p. 303;
A. Bikont, Ci nie są z ojczyzny mojej, an interview with D. Libionka, “Gazeta Wybor-
cza” 2-3 II 2008, p. 21.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 221
Gross’s books did, in spite of media interest in the subject.752 Moreover, the au-
thor of “Fear” stated in a television debate that he’d used such rhetoric perfectly
consciously for he was convinced that the description of dramatic events re-
quires “equally dramatic presentation”.753
However, the objections formulated by historians towards Gross’s book re-
ferred not only to what the book contained but also to what it lacked. In other
words, using the above-quoted metaphor of Marcin Zaremba, the objections re-
sembled listing unmentioned “episodes” of “The Last Judgement” by Hierony-
mus Bosch. According to the majority of historians who participated in the de-
bate, a wider social and political context should be taken into consideration in
order to explain the causes of postwar violence against Jews. That is why they
regarded the reasons Gross presented as neither exclusive nor satisfactory.
Among the causes of the postwar violence that had been belittled or ignored,
Paweł Machcewicz, Dariusz Stola, Bożena Szaynok and Marcin Zaremba men-
tioned war trauma, which could influence postwar behaviour. Other causes
listed were the disintegration and atomisation of society; the lack of authorities
who could help prevent the violence against Jews; common postwar banditry; an
increase in violence and the devaluation of human life; common poverty and
hunger; the Polish civil war between supporters and opponents of the new gov-
ernment, during which Jews were killed not as Jews but as representatives of the
repressive state apparatus; the general destabilisation caused by the postwar
moral condition of Polish society and the unexpected change of the political sys-
tem.
What is more, and something only a few historians taking part in the debate
noticed, Jan Tomasz Gross avoided discussing the political anti-Semitism of the
National Radical Camp, which increased its power in the 1930s.754 The pre-war
national and Catholic press overflowed with political anti-Semitism. It was not
compromised during the war and therefore survived it, and must have influenced
Polish attitudes toward Jews in the period discussed by Gross. If this context had
been considered and honestly presented by the author, maybe the IPN historian
Wojciech Muszyński would not have claimed in an interview for “Rzeczpo-
752 See A. Friszke, Gross i chłopcy narodowcy, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 23-24 II 2008, p. 29;
J. Jedlicki, Tylko tyle i aż tyle, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 2008, 4.
753 Gross – historyk z misją. Debata “Tygodnika Powszechnego” i TVN 24 o książce Jana
Tomasza Grossa “Strach”, [in:] Wokół “Strachu”. Dyskusja o książce Jana T. Grossa,
M. Gądek (ed.), Kraków 2008, p. 302.
754 See A. Friszke, Gross i chłopcy narodowcy, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 23-24 II 2008, p. 28;
P. Machcewicz, Zbyt proste wyjaśnienie, “Więź” 2008, 2-3, p. 82-83.
222 Chapter IV
spolita” that the national camp in interwar Poland “wasn’t anti-Semitic because
it wasn’t racist”.755
What is more, many historians criticised “Fear” for not including the chapter
on the time of the Nazi occupation of Poland and the period afterwards, when
the country lay within the Soviet orbit: the chapter opened the American version
of “Fear” but was omitted in the Polish edition. Gross rationalised this decision
by suggesting that this historical period is well known in Poland while it needed
to be properly expounded to the Western reader. The lack of this chapter was
deprecated by some historians who claimed that it would have been necessary, if
only because of the issue of the complex attitude of Poles towards Jews and the
Holocaust and Gross’s accusation of their indifference.
Regardless of the criticism, the historians cited above never doubted the
gravity or significance of the subject raised by Jan Tomasz Gross in his latest
book. Moreover, referring to this criticism, Marcin Kula asked rhetorically
whether “the image depicted by the author would be different if the mistakes
disappeared”.756 Besides, Feliks Tych posed the question whether, considering
the analysis presented in the book, Gross was actually supposed to include all
the factors that could influence the postwar murders of Jews. Tych answered this
question himself saying: “Let us imagine a detective or a journalist who picked
up the trail of a terrible crime committed by a group of people. Must the descrip-
tion take into account the fact that the murderers were poor, politically and mor-
ally confused and lacked the feeling of stability? This is an important fact but
not a necessary condition to write about the very act of murder and its direct mo-
tif. And the motif is one that Gross clearly named”.757
Some of the historians who considered generalisation, failed interpretations
and language that is too emotional or strong to be the main drawbacks of “Fear”
expressed concern that these weak points would give Gross’s critics an oppor-
tunity to easily reject and invalidate the contents of the book. They were afraid
(sincerely or not) that the subject raised by Gross would be belittled by his own
faults. The value of the book was highlighted by Barbara Engelking-Boni, direc-
tor of the Polish Centre for Holocaust Research at the Institute of Philosophy
and Sociology, Polish Academy of Sciences, who said it concerned “the feeling
of harm and how the feeling of harm inflicted does not match the feeling of
harm suffered. Jews have a strong feeling of harm suffered and Poles do not
have any feeling of harm inflicted”.758
What may confirm this are statements by some historians who attempted to
disparage the value of “Fear” in different ways and thus avoid confrontation
with the past described by Gross. What is more, their statements confirm the
concerns expressed by those historians who claimed that Gross’s critics would
use the weak points of “Fear” to invalidate its key focus and the pedantic search
for mistakes would be used to avoid its moral challenge. The scenario once re-
hearsed during the debate over “Neighbors” was thus reconstructed and the ar-
guments once used by Gross’s declared critics were repeated. As a matter of
fact, they were repeated by the same historians who, eight years earlier, had
played the roles of the defenders of Polish innocence, primarily Marek Jan Cho-
dakiewicz, Piotr Gontarczyk, Bogdan Musiał and Jerzy Robert Nowak, support-
ed faithfully by the director of Public Education Office of The Institute of Na-
tional Remembrance, Jan Żaryn and the president of the institute at the time, Ja-
nusz Kurtyka. Jan Żaryn claimed in public that “‘Fear’ should soon be thrown
out with the rubbish”;759 Janusz Kurtyka called Jan Tomas Gross “a vampire of
historiography” and his book “a libel on Poles”.760
As the accusations made by the historians against Jan Tomasz Gross and his
book weren’t new, there is no need to reconstruct them. Let us mention the most
important ones: Jan Tomasz Gross is not a historian, but a journalist; his re-
search techniques are pitiful and “for years the most characteristic technique
used by Gross has been manipulation”;761 the author uses questionable facts and
has not conducted reliable research; “Gross’s book does not leave space for
sources that do not support his thesis or for a multipage description of concrete
events and their historical context”.762 Moreover, “Fear” is regarded as an anti-
Polish and anti-Catholic book, which, in Jan Żaryn’s opinion, illlustrates a “deep
phobia” of the author”.763 The author was even called a “Pole-eater” and a
“Catholic-eater” by Jerzy Robert Nowak”.764
2. Invalidating strategies
The best example case of the attempt to invalidate and disparage “Fear” by a
public institution was the publication of the so-called “anti-Gross Wunderwaffe”
by The Institute of National Remembrance: Marek Jan Chodakiewicz’s book
entitled “After Holocaust. Polish-Jewish Relations 1944-1947”.770 This publica-
tion, provided with a public office’s seal, was released together with Gross’s
book, which cannot have been accidental. It was recommended as a reliable al-
ternative and counterweight to the unreliable “Fear”, and a well documented and
nuanced study. The foreword, written by the Polish historian Wojciech
Roszkowski, as well as the cover note, praised the merits of the book.771 Yet, the
most apologetic advertisement of Chodakiewicz’s book and a defence against its
critics was conducted by the historians from The Institute of National Remem-
brance. The president Janusz Kurtyka praised it in an interview for “Super Ex-
pres”, saying that “the substance of the book is very good”, that it was written
by a “competent historian” in compliance with “the proper methodology for this
field”.772 Piotr Gontarczyk described “After Holocaust” as a “pioneer work”, an
“academic study conveying great factual knowledge” and a complete contrast to
Jan Tomasz Gross’s “Fear”, which consisted “mostly of a lack of knowledge
and obvious manipulation”.773 The merits of Chodkiewicz’s book were also not-
ed by Jan Żaryn, who constructed his opinion during the opposition to “Fear”
and the criticism of its author.774 It is worth mentioning that “After Holocaust”
780 This book was published in the USA in 2005. See M. J. Chodakiewicz, Massacre in
Jedwabne, July 10, 1941: Before, During, and After, East European Monographs, Boul-
der, CO, 2005; its insightful review was written by Joanna B. Michlic. See J. B.
Michlic, Odwrócenie historycznej prawdy o Jedwabnem, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i Ma-
teriały” 2007, issue 3, p. 493-505.
781 M. J. Chodakiewicz, Wyzwania badawcze po Zagładzie, “Rzeczpospolita” 5 IV 2008,
p. 29.
782 See B. Szaynok, D. Libionka, Głupia sprawa, “Tygodnik Powszechny” 3 II 2008, issue
5, p. 22-23; P. Machcewicz, Gabinet historycznych osobliwości, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 18
I 2008, p. 24; A. Żbikowski, Anty-Gross, “Polityka” 26 IV 2008, p. 76; D. Engel (ed.),
Marek Jan Chodakiewicz, After the Holocaust. Polish-Jewish Conflict in the Wake of
World War II, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2005, issue 1, p. 328.
783 M. J. Chodakiewicz, Po Zagładzie. Stosunki polsko-żydowskie 1944-1947, Warszawa
2008, p. 11.
784 D. Engel (rec.), Marek Jan Chodakiewicz, After the Holocaust. Polish-Jewish Conflict
in the Wake of World War II, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2005, nr 1, p. 326.
228 Chapter IV
Jewish origin acting on their own or in collaboration with Stalinists, snitched on,
assaulted and robbed at least 7,000 Poles, killing some of them”.785 This an-
nouncement was preceded in bold type with a reference to results coming from
another study: “In sum, probably a minimum of 400 and a maximum of 700
Jews and persons of Jewish origin were killed in Poland between July 1944 and
January 1947”.786 Considering that a number of them were killed because of
their communist affiliation and some in robberies (although anti-Semitic motiva-
tions are also taken into account), the ratio of Poles killed by Jews to Jews killed
by Poles seems self-explanatory. The argument has been well summarised in the
title from the first page of “Rzeczpospolita”: “The Dispute over Gross’s Book.
Poles-Jews: Who Was Afraid of Whom”.787
“After Holocaust” is no real alternative to Gross’s findings, but plays an im-
portant role: bringing the status of a victim back to Poles. It erases questions
raised by “Fear” and removes the difficult truth about Poland’s guilty past from
sight. The ready answers to the roots of postwar violence against Jews given by
Chodakiewicz do not aggravate in the least, and instead put the reader at ease.
Hence the publication of “After Holocaust” may be interpreted as an attempt by
the Institute of National Remembrance to hide “Fear” and undermine or devalu-
ate the findings of its author. In any case, the publication should be seen as a
counter-offensive, prepared beforehand: a validation of a safe and comfortable
version of the past and not as a manifestation of concern for “the society” which
“should be given an opportunity to confront Gross’s findings with an alternative
lecture on the same subject”.788 Such a concern should be manifested in a direct
dialogue with Gross and not in a book that leaves a lot to be desired, one that
completely ignores the postwar pogroms and whose author uncritically quotes
such “exotic” researchers as Henryk Pająk, Jerzy Robert Nowak, Czesław Bart-
nik or Tadeusz Bednarczyk. Thus, not only has the Institute of National Re-
membrance legitimised the authority of Marek Chodakiewicz but indirectly also
these authors, whose writings are often openly anti-Semitic.
What is more, the invalidation of “Fear” by secular authority was imple-
mented literally and legally in spring 2007 in the form of a penalty law para-
graph (132a) introduced on the initiative of the League of Polish Family party
(supported in the parliament by the Self Defence and Law and Justice parties):
“Anyone who publicly defames the Polish nation for having participated in or-
ganising or being responsible for communist or Nazi crimes shall be punished
with imprisonment for up to three years”. The initiators of this proposal empha-
sised that its purpose was to protect the good name of Poland and Poles from
unfair wording appearing in the foreign media such as: “Polish concentration
camps”.
However, it should be noted that while the necessity of the proposal was be-
ing discussed and the legal works were in progress, the American version of
“Fear” had already premiered and first voices against it could be heard in Po-
land. It was this book that some initiators of this proposal openly referred to
when suggesting Gross could be put into prison after the introduction of the new
law. Also, Gross as a “revisionist” featured in the parliamentary speech of Ma-
teusz Piskorski, representing the Self Defence Party.789 In this way, interesting-
ly, Jan Tomasz Gross has been ‘honoured’ with a law paragraph created espe-
cially for him. However, before the new rule could be used against him, it had
been reported to the Constitutional Court for Judicial Review by the Civic Om-
budsman Janusz Kochanowski for the abuse of the freedom of speech and scien-
tific research. It had not been reviewed by the court before the Polish release of
“Fear”.
It had been known since 2006 that the prosecution would be interested in
Gross’s “Fear”. At this point, the Public Prosecutor General Deputy, Jerzy
Engelking, promised a group of right-wing senators demanding he prosecute
Gross for insulting Polish nation that he would “study the case” and “contingent
indictment”.790 In January 2008, a few days before the release of “Fear” in Po-
land, the secretary of the Public Prosecutor General, Ewa Piotrowska, said that
“beyond doubt, the Prosecutor will read the new Gross’s book”. And he did.791
The moment “Fear” came to Polish bookstores, the Cracow District Public Pros-
ecutor Office commenced actions to investigate whether the author had imputed
789 Here is the part of the parliamentary speech by Mateusz Piskorski, in which he justifies
the necessity of introducing a new article to the penalty code: “Why is it so important?
It is important, for example, in respect of the words of some history revisionists, such as
Jan Tomasz Gross, who is just now publishing another book that vilifies the Polish na-
tion. This book, according to the editor, is going to be published in Poland next year and
maybe the editor should think twice before the release, considering our new regulations
(applause)” Polish parliamentary report from 20 July 2006, 22nd parliamentary session,
Warsaw 2006, p. 300.
790 Cyt. za (PAP), Prokurator przeczyta książkę “Strach”, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 8 I 2008,
p. 3.
791 Cyt. za J. Stróżyk, Prokurator przeczyta nową książkę Grossa, “Rzeczpospolita” 8 I
2008, p. 6.
230 Chapter IV
any participation in Nazi crimes to the Polish nation. These public proceedings
were based on the press articles about Gross’s book and notifications made by
private persons, e.g. the populist politician Andrzej Lepper and the editor
Leszek Bubel, known for his anti-Semitic publications. In this way, the reading
of “Fear” was handled by prosecutors.
The decision by the Cracow District Public Prosecutor’s Office to com-
mence preparatory proceedings concerning the contents of “Fear” provoked an-
other dispute over the unwise law – which not only restricted freedom of speech
but also significantly limited and penalised academic research, for example on
szmalcownictwo [the blackmailing of Jews who were hiding during the war], the
Blue Police [collaborationist police in the German occupied area], etc. Most of
the debaters criticised the regulation, stressed its nonsensical character and dis-
approved of the fact that Gross’s book was handled by the prosecution. A few
open letters in defence of Gross were published in the Polish press. Their signa-
tories were Polish and foreign intellectuals, researchers, etc. who demanded the
removal of the regrettable legal article from the penal code. Even Gross’s adver-
saries, including Marek Chodakiewicz, protested against the legal paragraph,
thus supporting Gross (however, Chodakiewicz could not resist belittling his
book by calling it “journalism”792).
Finally, having read “Fear”, Cracow investigators discontinued the proceed-
ings against Gross, finding no grounds to charge him with libel against the
Polish nation on the basis of Article 132a of the penal code. They also conclud-
ed that the contents of “Fear” allowed them neither to charge Gross with libel
against the Polish nation (Article 133) nor with inciting hatred based on nation-
al, ethnic, racial, or religious differences (Article 256) which, it turned out, had
also been analysed by the prosecution. What’s most important here, however, is
that for almost a month there was a real possibility that Gross would become the
defendant and Poland would be ridiculed worldwide. Indeed, Jan Tomasz Gross
was close to becoming a Polish Orhan Pamuk.793
In a country where anti-Semitic and hate-speech magazines, periodicals and
books are widely available and the Prosecutor’s Office often refuses to open an
investigation against their editors or authors, the investigation was launched into
794 The cases when the prosecution discontinued proceedings against the authors of anti-
Semitic publications as well as comprehensive explanations of these decisions have
been diligently documented by “Open Republic: The Association Against Anti-
Semitism and Xenophobia”; See: Przestępstwa nie stwierdzono. Prokuratorzy wobec
doniesień o publikacjach antysemickich, Stowarzyszenie “Otwarta Rzeczpospolita”
i Wydawnictwo Nisza, Warszawa 2006.
232 Chapter IV
ly considering the ethical heritage left by the founders. The Christian roots, in
which your editorial past was established, oblige you to do so.”795
These quotations from Cardinal Dziwisz’s letter give us a glimpse into some
of his opinions and assumptions. The Cardinal’s words clearly indicate that
Gross’s book does not tell the truth about history, reports historical facts in a
selective way and should not be published by a Catholic publisher in the interest
of Poland’s good. Most importantly, however, its contents carry threats: it brings
national tensions and awakens the demons “of anti-Polonism and anti-
Semitism”. No wonder Cardinal Dziwisz’s doubts were raised by Jan Tomasz
Gross’s intentions.
The letter addressed to Henryk Woźniakowski is thus both an admonition,
addressed to a Catholic publisher, on its duties, roots and mission and also a re-
view of “Fear” written by the Cracow Metropolitan Archbishop. In this review,
Cardinal Dziwisz strongly opted for Jan Żaryn’s version of the memory of the
past and expressed support for “the press warnings against the claims of this
book”.
The letter may be also interpreted as an attempt to shut down the public de-
bate over “Fear”, or prevent it from happening. Admittedly, the Polish journalist
Tomasz Terlikowski, who identified with the Cardinal’s voice, announced in
“Rzeczpospolita” that the letter “was not aimed at closing the debate but re-
minding us what a real dialogue should consist of”,796 but such a diagnosis
seems to be erroneous and untimely. One possible meaning and aim of the letter
(to some extent also a result) was uncovered a month after its publication by an-
other Polish journalist, Rafał Ziemkiewicz. Referring to the earlier book by
Gross, he stated: “This time the pamphlet was received calmly, knowing its real
value – most Poles shared the view of Cardinal Dziwisz rather than the one held
by ‘Gazeta Wyborcza’” journalists, and they forgot about the whole case. For a
long time, it’s been only the latter who has regularly devoted a few columns to
the ‘debate’ over the book”.797 Therefore, even if cutting off the debate over
“Fear” was not the principal aim of the Cracow Metropolitan Archbishop, the
contents of his letter fully led one to conclude that there was nothing to discuss,
or even that such a discussion was inadvisable as it could wake up demons.
Through his letter, Cardinal Dziwisz joined the group of those undermining
Gross’s book and he rejected the challenge it had posed. Most importantly, he
gave this group significant support with the power of his authority. However,
795 List Otwarty kardynała Stanisława Dziwisza, [in:] Wokół Strachu, M. Gądek (ed.), Kra-
ków 2008, p. 74-75.
796 T. P. Terlikowski, Odwaga kardynała Dziwisza, “Rzeczpospolita” 18 I 2008, p. 2.
797 R. A. Ziemkiewicz, Jesteśmy skazani na bezsilność, “Rzeczpospolita” 20 II 2008, p. 15.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 233
798 Naturally, some commentators criticism the publisher of “Strach” went much further
than Cardinal Dziwisz, whom they fully supported.
799 See Odpowiedź Henryka Woźniakowskiego na List Otwarty kardynała Stanisława
Dziwisza, [w:] Wokół Strachu, M. Gądek (red.), Kraków 2008, s. 76-78.
800 Another member of the Polish episcopate, Archbishop Józef Michalik, wrote in his let-
ter for Lent about “Fear” as including unfair accusations against Poland and Poles of
“their alleged anti-Semitism” and about his suspicions that Gross meant to “intentional-
ly awake anti-Semitism, against which we should defend ourselves”. The letter was read
out on the first Sunday of Lent in the parishes of Przemyśl Archidiocese. Citation after
E. Czaczkowska, Abp Michalik o szatanie i in vitro, “Rzeczpospolita” 3 III 2008, p. 6.
801 It was Marta Cobel-Tokarska who called Jerzy Robert Nowak “the tribune of anti-
Semitic Poland”. This term was used in her article devoted to Nowak’s lecture tour of
Poland – a crusade against Gross’s books. See M. Cobel-Tokarska, Bo “Żydzi nas ata-
kują”… Tournee Jerzego Roberta Nowaka z wykładami potępiającymi “antykatolicką
i antypolską książkę” Grossa, “Zagłada Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2008, issue 4,
p. 631-635.
802 See J. R. Nowak, Nowe kłamstwa Grossa, Warszawa 2006.
234 Chapter IV
“we must defend ourselves”.803 What they heard from Jerzy Robert Nowak is
easy to guess – his articles in “Nasz Dziennik” and “Niedziela” newspapers are
clear enough, as are newspaper reports of meetings with him.804 For instance, in
an interview for “Nasz Dziennik” (17/18 May 2008), he boasted of his speeches
given in 37 towns and cities; each meeting gathered between 100 and 2,000
people, who gave him a standing ovation that was reported even by “Gazeta
Wyborcza”.805
The Metropolitan Archbishop of Cracow, Stanisław Dziwisz, however, nev-
er decided to refer to what Jerzy Robert Nowak was propagating in such a for-
mal and loud way as he did in his open letter to Henryk Woźniakowski. Nor did
he ever answer the letter addressed to him by Abraham Foxman, National Direc-
tor of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), who was concerned by the anti-
Semitic character of Nowak’s appearance in Cracow. Considering Dziwisz’s
concern over “waking the demons of anti-Semitism” and the fact that the “tour”
started in the capital of Dziwisz’s Metropolis, his silence remains intriguing. In
any case, it casts doubt on the honesty of the Archbishop’s intentions and con-
firms that there were other motivations behind his reproachful letter.
Silence as an answer to Nowak’s lectures throughout Poland was also cho-
sen by the Senate of Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University in Warsaw, which
had earlier expressed indignation over Gross’s statement about the anti-
Semitism of the cardinals Adam Sapieha and Stefan Wyszyński. Besides, only a
few priests and Church officials strongly and publicly criticised Nowak’s
speeches, their content, location and the applauding audiences.806 That criticism
came from the Warsaw management of Klub Inteligencji Katolickiej (KIK;
Polish: Club of Catholic Intellectuals),807 the Association against Anti-Semitism
and Xenophobia “Open Republic:”, Zbigniew Nosowski in the name of the
803 Cit. after P. Piotrowski, M. Niemczyńska, Żydzi nas atakują! Trzeba się bronić, “Gazeta
Wyborcza” 11 II 2008, p. 1, 5.
804 During his lectures, Jerzy Robert Nowak attacked not only Jan Tomasz Gross, but also
other “enemies of Poland and what is Polish”, by which he meant some members of
Polish elites and whom he listed.
805 P. Tunia, Dokonuje się przełom świadomości, an interview with J. R. Nowak, “Nasz
Dziennik” 17-18 V 2008.
806 See M. Cobel-Tokarska, Bo “Żydzi nas atakują”… Tournee Jerzego Roberta Nowaka
z wykładami potępiającymi “antykatolicką i antypolską książkę” Grossa, “Zagłada
Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2008, issue 4, p. 634 635.
807 It is worth noticing that the appeal of the KIK management sparked an internal conflict,
which resulted in a letter from members criticising the management for speaking in the
name of the whole association. See C. Gmyz, List w obronie pluralizmu w KIK,
“Rzeczpospolita” 19 IV 2008, p. 5.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 235
Polish Council of Christians and Jews, and numerous journalists. However, even
their polyphonic voice was not as audible as that one letter by Cardinal Dziwisz.
Although Jerzy Robert Nowak’s lectures unequivocally contributed to the
process of devaluing “Fear”, it is worth analysing different strategies used by
many journalists with the same purpose. Therefore, let us have a closer look at
the character of the plots and of the rhetoric of the figures trying to disparage
“Fear”.
As with the case of “Neighbors”, critics attempted to have the book dis-
missed as invalid by belittling its author. However, analysis of press content in-
dicates that the repertoire did not change and practically nothing new was said.
It was repeated that Gross is not a historian and has not acquired history meth-
odology, which naturally discredits both him as a scholar and his book. Some
journalists, like certain historians, stressed that Gross was not motivated by a
desire to research, understand and describe the past, but by a mission. Thus, he
was called a moralist, a prophet, a missionary, but also a prosecutor and a judge.
Some questioned Gross’s honesty and frankness, claiming that his main motiva-
tion was a desire to earn money with “Fear”. Similarly, Gross was identified as a
“tool of Holocaust Enterprise” attempting to finagle Poland out of former Jewish
properties and compensations. Attempts to discredit Gross were again made by
Antoni Zambrowski who wrote: “Janek Gross – ranked among the leaders of the
Polish March 1968 protests – was one of the very few who were broken during
interrogation and who “gave away his colleagues” while most “refused to testi-
fy”.808 It’s worth mentioning that Zambrowski wrote these words a month before
the fortieth anniversary of March 1968.
In their attempts to undermine Gross’s position as a scholar, some (such as
the journalist Marek Chodakiewicz) even compared him to the pop star Doda or
called him the “Britney Spears of historiography”.809 Such comparisons were
rather incidental, however. Much more often, radical views were ascribed to
Gross and he was compared to the Holocaust denier David Irving or Leszek Bu-
bel, a Polish politician and journalist seething with anti-Semitism. This was
clearly an attempt to give Gross the status of a fanatic and radical who did not
deserve to be treated seriously. The author was also depicted as a stranger who,
by definition, is suspicious and hostile. Moreover, the image of a stranger was
strengthened by stressing the Jewish roots of the author and the fact that since
1968, when he left Poland, he has been living in the USA. What seems interest-
ing here is that Marek Chodakiewicz, also living permanently in the USA, has
810 Krystian Brodacki wrote in “Niedziela” magazine: “In 2005, Prof. Chodakiewicz was
appointed to the United States Holocaust Memorial Council by President George
W. Bush (…). This seems to be sufficient recognition of the knowledge and honesty of
our compatriot from Washington”. K. Brodacki, Czytajcie Chodakiewcza!, “Niedziela”
17 II 2008, p. 29.
811 All the above quotations come from this article. See P. Zychowicz, Oko w oko
z tłuszczą, “Rzeczpospolita” 26 I 2008, p. 18.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 237
scription of a clash between Gross and Michnik at a birthday party of the latter
(chief editor of “Gazeta Wyborcza”) in 1967. Zychowicz suggests that the ar-
gument cast a shadow on their acquaintance and was not resolved before
Gross’s migration to the USA after March 1968. According to an anonymous
“former oppositionist” quoted by Zychowicz, the two finally agreed “when
Gross began to write about Polish-Jewish relations”. Jadwiga Staniszkis (a soci-
ology professor and a famous political commentator) notices that his books on
this subject, “result largely from a guilty conscience about Michnik”, whom
Gross left behind, together with others “in the horrifying, grey, communist Po-
land” while he himself could get an education and develop in the USA.
Staniszkis also explains how this debt was paid by the books on Polish-Jewish
relations. She claims that Gross, informed of what was happening in Poland af-
ter 1989 by “Gazeta Wyborcza”, “received a deformed, exaggerated image of
Polish reality”, where “the powers of progress, represented by his friends, strug-
gled with the traditional Polish demons of anti-Semitism and nationalism. He
believed that any criticism towards Michnik in Poland was caused by his Jewish
origin. And since Gross felt guilty about leaving Michnik in 1968, he decided to
join the war against ‘dark instincts sleeping in the Polish nation’, writing
‘Neighbors’ and ‘Fear’”.812
In other words, the guilty conscience and remorse Gross felt for Adam
Michnik as well as his incorrect perception of Polish reality inspired his work on
“Neighbors”. Thus, a book written in the name of atonement led to one of the
most important and certainly the one of the longest public debates in Poland af-
ter 1989. However, there is one more part of Gross’s biography, without which
the author’s interest in Polish-Jewish relations and the reason for the emotional
nature of his narration would be unclear: it is his personal experience of anti-
Semitism in March 1968. According to Piotr Zychowicz, the anti-Semitic cam-
paign launched by the communists, and particularly the confrontation between
Gross, who was under arrest, and Security Service officers who liked using anti-
Semitic rhetoric, “must have been a great shock for a 21 year-old student from a
good family”. Therefore, he openly asks whether this experience “happens to
echo in his books” – a suspicion which Józef Dajczgewand confirms.813
812 According to Jadwiga Staniszkis, Gross’s biographical experiences or precisely his family
experiences could explain some contents of his books: “Janek’s mom saved his dad’s
life [Gross’s father was of Jewish origin –A/N]. That is why he has built up such high
expectations for Poles. ”If it was possible in my family, it means it could have been
possible in millions of others. For some reason it did not happen”. Ibidem.
813 Józef Dajczgewand: “Those people [Security Service officers – A/N] were skilled pro-
fessionals. They broke this young boy in a brutal way. The whole prison experience
must have been a great trauma for him. And his books must be an answer to what hap-
238 Chapter IV
There were also others who believed that March 1968 determined the con-
tents of “Fear” – for example, Ryszard Bugaj and Reverend Tadeusz Isakowicz-
Zaleski, who interpreted Gross’s book as an “author’s individual revenge for
having been expelled from Poland in 1968”.814 It is not hard to guess that what
inspired such an interpretation was the forthcoming 40th anniversary of the
events of March 1968, in which Gross had been an active participant and a vic-
tim. However, what is much more important is that accepting such an interpreta-
tion is a classic example of SEP [Someone Else’s Problem phenomenon, i.e. a
practice of ignoring an issue that we regard as another person’s problem and not
ours]. In this case, the problem was Jan Tomasz Gross, his post-March trauma
and his feelings of guilt about Adam Michnik, which he tried to overcome by
writing his books, vibrating with emotions, about the difficult Polish-Jewish
past.
Moreover, the fact that in these books Gross censures Poles in harsh and bit-
ter words for their attitude towards Jews during and after the Holocaust is a un-
derstandable result of the identification with Jewish victims that Gross devel-
oped after his trauma in March. Indeed, one could not imagine a better (and a
more patronising) way to undermine “Fear” than to acknowledge that it is the
author and not us who has a personal problem, although we understand his expe-
rience and the resulting pain.
The devaluation of “Fear” also included the suggestion that its contents re-
sulted from hatred or other negative feelings of the author towards Poles and
Poland.815 However, it focussed mostly on depreciating and criticising the very
text and pointing at what was missing but should have definitely been included.
Moreover, the most persistent critics of the book repeated almost all the accusa-
tions and invectives that had been once said about “Neighbors” – though not
with the same intensity.
pened then in the jail building. It can be noticed in his writing style. His language is the
language of emotions. Gross is a party of the argument, somehow a participant of the
events he describes. March 1968 was like a continuation of the War for him, in a way.
In such a situation there’s no room for neutrality”. Ibidem.
814 T. Isakowicz-Zaleski, Fałszerze historii, “Gazeta Polska” 16 I 2008, p. 32; See also
R. Bugaj, Gross sadza Polskę na ławce hańby, “Rzeczpospolita” 22 I 2008, p.16;
A. Stempin, Czy należy bać się “Strachu”?, “Znak” 2008, issue 6, p. 128-129.
815 “Fear” as proving “far-reaching disdain and hatred” of the author was described by
Paweł Lisiecki, the chief editor of “Rzeczpospolita”. He suggested that the way of de-
picting Poles in “Fear” was similar to the Nazi propaganda that had classified them as
“Untermensch”. P. Lisicki, Żydzi, Polacy i przeszłość, “Rzeczpospolita” 11 I 2008, p. 2;
Gross’s hatred towards Poland and the Poles as a motivation to write “Fear” was also a
theory promoted by “Nasz Dziennik” and “Myśl Polska” newspapers.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 239
Thus, the new book by Gross was refused the status of an academic publica-
tion; it was demonstrated to include methodological and factual mistakes and
selective and incomplete source texts. The academic value of the book was
thought to be weakened by generalisations and a language that was too emotion-
al and uncovered the non-academic commitment of the author. Another depreci-
ating factor was the fact that Gross had not written anything new or unknown.
He created a book which, to quote Piotr Siemko, was an emanation of America’s
obligatory way of writing about the Holocaust, which meant making it the cen-
tral event of the Second World War and changing “formerly obvious proportions
of guilt”816.
Similar to certain historians, other disputers also listed contexts ignored by
Gross but which supposedly refuted his arguments. The “silenced circumstanc-
es”, believed to be the most important context, was not acknowledging the risk
related to helping Jews during the war and the immensity of suffering experi-
enced by Poles and caused by the occupiers. Another popular critique directed at
Gross concerned his focus on the suffering of Jews while ignoring Polish mar-
tyrdom – which was thought to prove his partiality. Also, by ignoring Polish cit-
izens recognised as Righteous among the Nations, “Fear” was considered as un-
just and erroneous. Although Gross tried to explain that it had been the drama of
the Righteous who were forced to remain anonymous after the war that inspired
him to write “Fear”, his arguments were for nothing. Besides, as Gross noticed,
referring to the book of Władysław Bartoszewski or Zofia Lewinówna817, that no
one accused the authors of ignoring the case of szmlacowniks or blackmailers in
their book about Jews rescued by Poles.818
Gross was also criticised for not including in the Polish edition of the book
the first chapter of the American edition, “Poland abandoned”, depicting the sit-
uation in Poland during and after the war. Some claimed that the Polish edition
of “Fear” was a censored version of the American, which was overflowing with
much more radical statements, judgements and conclusions, thus being even
more anti-Polish than the already anti-Polish, domestic, “light” version. “Anti-
Polish” and “anti-Catholic” were terms used not only by the far-right and con-
servative “Nasz Dziennik”, “Gazeta Polskiej” or “Myśl Polska”, but also by
moderately conservative “Tygodnik Solidarność” and “Rzeczpospolita”. It was
anti-Polish because it did not speak of Polish victims, but of perpetrators and an
816 P. Semka, Strach cofnął dialog o całą epokę, “Rzeczpospolita” 16 I 2008, p. 14.
817 Bartoszewski and Lewinówna were editors of a study, first published in 1966, devoted
to the help given to Jews by Poles during the Second World War. See W. Bartoszewski,
Z. Lewinówna, Ten jest z ojczyzny mojej. Polacy z pomocą Żydom 1939-1945, Warsza-
wa 2007.
818 See J. T. Gross, Strach. Antysemityzm w Polsce tuż po wojnie, Kraków 2008, p. 11.
240 Chapter IV
819 Quote after Napisali o “Strachu”, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 9-10 II 2008, p. 27.
820 T. P. Terlikowski, “Strach”, czyli propagandowy akt oskarżenia zamiast historii,
“Rzeczpospolita” 11 I 2008, p. 12.
821 T. Isakowicz-Zaleski, Fałszerze historii, “Gazeta Polska” 16 I 2008, p. 32.
822 K. Brodacki, Czytajcie Chodakiewcza!, “Niedziela” 17 II 2008, p. 29.
823 See A. M. Sekretarska, Życie za życie, “Gazeta Polska” 16 I 2008, p. 19; J. Żaryn (in-
troduction), Schronienie na plebanii , “Rzeczpospolita” 19-20 I 2008, p. 29.
824 Janusz Kurtyka, the president of the Institute of National Remembrance, who was pre-
sent at the opening of the exhibition, said: “(…) The problem of szmalcownictwo is al-
ways mentioned when there is a discussion about the attitudes of Poles during the war.
But in fact the main attitude of a Pole is being helpful”. See A. Wojnar, Pamięć nie ty-
lko na zdjęciach, “Niedziela” 10 II 2008, p. 9.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 241
825 See I. Lisiak, Roman Blum oddał życie, “Myśl Polska” 13 IV 2008, p. 18.
826 See A. Solak, Zagłada “Patrii”, “Myśl Polska” 9 III 2008, p. 16-17.
827 See M. Motas, Winni księża i katoendecy, “Myśl Polska” 10 II 2008, p. 5; K. M. Mazur,
Filozofia bungee, “Czas!” 2 II 2008, p. XII; J. R. Nowak, Przegląd prasy, “Niedziela”
13 I 2008, p. 30.
828 J. Tokarska-Bakir, Legendy o krwi. Antropologia przesądu, Warszawa 2008; See also
J. Żyndul, Kłamstwo krwi. Legenda mordu rytualnego na ziemiach polskich w XIX i XX
wieku, Warszawa 2012.
829 P. Semka, Strach cofnął dialog o całą epokę, “Rzeczpospolita” 16 I 2008, p. 14.
242 Chapter IV
830 S. Blumsztajn, Polski głos Grossa, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 19-20 I 2008, p. 16.
831 R. A. Ziemkiewicz, Jesteśmy skazani na bezsilność, “Rzeczpospolita” 20 II 2008, p. 15.
832 R. Krasowski, Antysemityzm Polaków jako problem polityczny, “Dziennik Polska” 18 I
2008, p. 6.
833 See eg. P. Semka, Strach cofnął dialog o całą epokę, “Rzeczpospolita” 16 I 2008, p. 14;
G. Pustkowiak, Antysemityzm Jana T. Grossa, “Myśl Polska’ 3 II 2008, p. 19;
M. Łętowski, Gross igra z ogniem, “Tygodnik Solidarność” 25 I 2008, p. 33; P. Zy-
chowicz, Czy “Strach” zaszkodzi dialogowi?, “Rzeczpospolita” 5 I 2008, p. 7; P. Lisic-
ki, Żydzi, Polacy i przeszłość, ”Rzeczpospolita” 11 I 2008, p. 2.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 243
or “Nasz Dziennik”,838 the most popular of which was the missing context of the
events described by Gross. This argument was debated by Marek Edelman, who
categorically stated: “I can see no context of a murder. A murderer is a scoun-
drel and that is it. And the one who sees and turns their head away is his or her
accessory”,839 Sławomir Buryła, a Holocaust literature researcher, stressed that
“Fear” was in fact the first monograph treating of the postwar violence against
Jews even though individual symptoms had been already known by Polish histo-
rians and described separately.840 Indeed, no one before Gross had attempted a
complete exposition of the subject, which in most part undermines the sugges-
tion that “Fear” is imitative or reproductive.
As with some historians, journalists defended the sharp and provocative lan-
guage of “Fear”, praising it for initiating discussion on an important subject.
They mentioned measured works by Polish historians also concerning the diffi-
cult Polish-Jewish past, which also spoke about the disgraceful attitudes of Poles
towards Jews, and which could have brought completely new knowledge but
instead had no repercussions whatsoever. Their list was repeated as a mantra:
“Prowincja Noc”,841 “Szanowny Panie Gestapo”,842 “Ja tego Żyda znam”843 and
“U genezy Jedwabnego”.844 Another example was an anniversary article by Ad-
am Michnik published in “Gazeta Wyborcza”, in which the author analysed the
838 “I wonder,” Tokarska-Bakir writes, “whether I can put forward a factual objection to-
wards his book. And only one comes to my mind. This book, as well as the reality itself,
is close to sadism. Some of the evidence just cannot be held. One might want to but
something inside refuses to allow it. Some elementary trust to the world is needed to
live and the confrontation with concentrated cruelty deprives us from this trust. Amery
[Jean Amery, a French essayist writing about moral challenges caused by Holocaust –
A.N.] claimed that the pain, once experienced, cannot be communicated in any other
way without causing it. This is exactly the danger of the historical literature written by
Gross. To express certain things, one has to overcome ones and someone else’s pain
withdrawal reflex”. And another word about Gross’s “fault”, short and ironic this time:
“Gross’s fault lies in boycotting standards of honesty accepted in Polish historical litera-
ture”. J. Tokarska-Bakir, Strach w Polsce, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 12-13 I 2008, p. 22.
839 J. Szczęsna, Powszechna rzecz zabijanie, an interview with M. Edelman, ”Gazeta Wy-
borcza” 19-20 I 2008, p. 14.
840 S. Buryła, Wiedza, która sprawia ból, Znak” 2008, issue 3, p. 183-184
841 See B. Engelking, J. Leociak, D. Libionka (ed.), Prowincja noc. Życie i zagłada Żydów
w dystrykcie warszawskim, Warszawa 2007.
842 See B. Engelking, “Szanowny panie gestapo”. Donosy do władz niemieckich w War-
szawie i okolicach 1940-1941, Warszawa 2003.
843 See J. Grabowski, “Ja tego Żyda znam”. Szantażowanie Żydów w Warszawie 1939-
1943, Warszawa 2004.
844 See A. Żbikowski, U genezy Jedwabnego. Żydzi na kresach północno-wschodniej II
Rzeczypospolitej, wrzesień 1939-lipiec 1941, Warszawa 2006.
“Fear” after Jedwabne 245
responses of the Polish bishops Czesław Kaczmarek and Teodor Kubina to the
Kielce pogrom – the same documents that Gross used when writing “Fear”.
Michnik’s article, however, did not start any debate and none of the Catholic
Church officials rose to speak about it.845
Asking about the silence and the undeserved lack of public debate greeting
those publications, one could hear that the articles were too balanced or re-
served. A more complex answer was given by Teresa Bogucka, Polish writer
and journalist, who noticed that since the Polish debate over Jedwabne, the
name of the author of “Fear” had already been labelled controversial, therefore
some scandal regarding his upcoming book was expected (and tabloids did their
best to provide it). Bogucka also noted that the case of Polish historians writing
about the dark side of Polish history is considerably different to that of an Amer-
ican professor writing about the same events and in this way insulting our nation
in front of the world.846 Books by foreign scholars, even if entirely consistent
with the findings of Polish researchers, are treated on different terms.
The anti-SEP strategies mainly involved recognising and addressing the
problem of the attitudes of Poles toward the Holocaust and the postwar violence
against its survivors as well as acknowledging that the anti-Semitism in Poland
described by Gross was a real phenomenon, not one artificially evoked.
Mirosław Czech in his article started a polemic with Robert Krasowski, suggest-
ing that Krasowski had unintentionally demonstrated that ”the problem [Polish
anti-Semitism] he describes as non-existent is in fact real.”847 Without doubt, an
important voice in the debate was an article by Stanisław Obirek with the mean-
ingful title “The Church needs Gross”, in which the author criticised the attitude
of Polish Catholic Church officials towards the contents of “Fear”. He bravely
stated that what the bishops say demonstrates that they don’t feel “the need to
845 The above-mentioned article by Adam Michnik about the Polish bishops’ response to
the Kielce pogrom was published in two parts by Gazeta Wyborcza on the 60th anniver-
sary of the pogrom. See A. Michnik, Pogrom kielecki: dwa rachunki sumienia, “Gazeta
Wyborcza” 3 VI 2006, p. 12 and 10 VI 2006, p. 22; The article was mentioned by
Michnik himself during a public discussion with Gross in Cracow: “I once wrote an es-
say about the Kielce pogrom, in which I balanced all the arguments and everything was
justly described, but not a living soul noticed it. To be noticed, you have to write like
Janek Gross did but this isn’t information only about him but also about us – his readers”.
See D. Wielowieyska, Lekceważyłam nasz antysemityzm, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 10 IV
2008, p. 20; Z antysemityzmu trzeba się spowiadać. Zapis fragmentów spotkania
z Janem Tomaszem Grossem, które odbyło się w Krakowie 24 stycznia 2008 roku, [in:]
Wokół “Strachu”. Dyskusja o książce Jana T. Grossa, M. Gądek (ed.) Kraków 2008,
p. 345.
846 T. Bogucka, Strach, gniew, debata, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 23-24 II 2008, s. 26.
847 M. Czech, Lewica nie wymyśliła antysemityzmu, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 22 I 2008, p. 23.
246 Chapter IV
ask oneself questions about the history of the Holocaust” and that “for them, the
lesson from the Holocaust is yet to be learnt.”848
In addition, some contributions strengthened the claims made in “Fear” by
giving examples from history, literature, film or from personal experience. For
instance, Halina Bortnowska wrote a very moving article about her own recep-
tion of “Fear” and the shock she felt. Her considerations may be interpreted as
subtle criticism towards those who belittled the contents of Gross’s book; this
criticism is very clear when she writes: “’Fear’ seems to induce anxiety by im-
posing a feeling of guilt on its readers. The author is accused of such an inten-
tion, I believe unjustly. It is us who, in trying to free ourselves from the trap of
co-feeling the harm, try to deny the facts. As a result, we stand on the side of the
wrongdoers and their defenders.”849 Others shone light on the motives and inten-
tions behind the attempts to invalidate “Fear”, unanimously interpreting them as
a desire to hide and deny the uncomfortable truth.850
The truth is not new; it had been discussed by scholars and known by “insid-
ers” but it was only Gross’s book that started to inscribe this truth in social
memory on such a scale. Although some gave Gross all the credit for it, they
should give some, paradoxically, to the noisy critics without whom “Fear” would
have shared the fate of the many Polish historical works that were ignored. While
readers of the Polish press had a chance to learn about the Kielce pogrom on the
occasion of some anniversaries, they probably heard of the Cracow pogrom for
the first time. After all, not everyone knows the work by Anna Cichopek.851
Michał Bilewicz was right when he wrote that Gross’s book may be used as a
”tool to popularise historical knowledge on almost a massive scale.”
***
It would be difficult to determine its symbolic ending (unless one chose the has-
ty “Znak” publication consisting of the articles written by debaters). The debate
simply waned as a result of a lack of internal dynamics and left the impression
that it was being forcibly/artificially kept alive since participants hardly ever re-
ferred to each other’s arguments. Instead, they tried to determine whether or not
“Fear” was worth discussing. Unfortunately, the answer “no” dominated. Those
who gave this answer paid relatively more attention to Jan Tomasz Gross than to
the contents of his book and the challenges it posed. However, the debate, to-
gether with all its imperfections, uncovered and highlighted certain things.
First of all, it revealed the results of historical politics initiated in Poland
under the rule of the Law and Justice Party, who rejected “critical patriotism”
and supported a patriotism that affirmed the past of the nation.852 Without doubt,
the debate over “Fear” showed that the efforts of the Law and Justice party to
stop the process of revising the myth of a past of heroes and martyrs and to start
to look for reasons to be proud of one’s homeland were fruitful. One could
clearly observe this shift, for example in the words of historians related to the
Institute of National Remembrance, and particularly in the publications under
the auspices of Marek Chodakiewicz. One may venture to say that it was fortu-
nate that Janusz Kurtyka was not the President when Gross’s book “Neighbors”
was published in Poland.
Secondly, the debate over “Fear” revealed the shifts or transformations in
Polish public discourse, somehow related to the influence of the rules of af-
firmative patriotism. The best example of these reconfigurations is what ap-
peared in the columns of “Rzeczpospolita”. While the newspaper had played an
important and praiseworthy role during the debate over the Jedwabne pogrom,
they no longer did after the release of “Fear”. Besides, it was during the debate
about “Fear” when a numerous and audible group of historians sharing the
views of “Catholic National Democrats” (the term introduced by Gross and re-
ferring to a certain worldview) and the journalists who supported them were re-
vealed. Some of them did not even refrain from a more or less veiled anti-
Semitic rhetoric. This problem leads us to the third issue related to the debate
over “Fear”. Despite the attempts to invalidate the problem of anti-Semitism, it
manifested itself over the course of the debate. Most importantly, the debate re-
vealed the consent given to anti-Semitism in the Polish Catholic Church. The
key evidence were the lectures given in churches and parish centres by Jerzy
Robert Nowak, which (with few exceptions) did not bring a strong response
from Church officials but rather some sort of silent acceptance.
The most important conclusion drawn from the analysis of the debate over
“Fear”, however, is the backlash that could be observed after the Jedwabne con-
troversy. This counterattack led to affirmative patriotism, reflected in the con-
struction of the Warsaw Rising Museum and the exploitation of the topics of the
Polish Righteous Among the Nations and Jewish communists. This backlash
took the form of a blockade of public accounting for the difficult and incriminat-
ing Polish-Jewish past and was expressed with a meaningful silence, which, af-
ter “Neighbors”, was temporarily broken and interrupted by “Fear”. This very
context should be taken into account when one interprets the different strategies
of invalidating “Fear”. The essence of such a strategy and, at the same time, an
absolute lack of understanding of the heart of the matter, is expressed in the ap-
peal made by the editor-in-chief of “Czas!”: “Let us forget about the Jews and
finally focus on Poland”.853 Since the Jedwabne controversy, his statement has
been a credo of many Poles whose response to the massacre revealed by Gross
in “Neighbors” was not a feeling of guilt, but a long-term objection to self-
flagellation.
The debate sparked off by the publication of “Fear” by Jan Tomasz Gross was
not the last episode in the series of public debates over Polish attitudes towards
the Holocaust. Another one, although short, arose after the publication of an ar-
ticle entitled: “The Dark Continent: Hitler's European Holocaust Helpers” in
“Der Spiegel” in May 2009. The text concerned various forms of the complicity
of European citizens in the extermination of Jews.854 The response it evoked in
Poland was disproportionate to its content. It probably surprised not only the
authors of the article, but all those who believed that after the Jedwabne debate
and other discussions concerning the Polish-Jewish past, Poles had learnt a les-
son. The most surprising element, however, was that the article, which provoked
such an emotional reaction, did not add anything new to our knowledge about
Polish complicity in the Holocaust. Moreover, Polish threads were few and men-
tioned only briefly; they were reduced to the problem of szmalcowniks, pogroms
in 1941 (“Pogroms in Poland by local people against Jews in 1941”) and post-
war murders of Jews, of which, according to “Der Spiegel”, there were “at least
600, and possibly even thousands of Holocaust survivors.” If the intention of the
authors had been some special focus on Poland, they certainly could have writ-
ten much more – and there would be more things to write about, as Poland had
been the main area of the Holocaust. For instance, one could refer to recent pub-
lications of the Polish Centre of Holocaust Research, or examine the archives of
the Jewish Historical Institute. Yet, the authors used only facts and events that
had been already analysed by Polish historians in at least a few important publi-
cations.
Moreover, the article in “Der Spiegel” neither questioned nor extended pre-
vailing knowledge of the attitudes of other European citizens who, individually
or institutionally, aided the Nazis in their extermination plan. Also, it would be
hard to disagree with the thesis of the article: that voluntary or forced collabora-
tion indeed influenced the scale of the Nazi project. This, however, was not new
information. As the historian and Holocaust expert Dariusz Liponka stated in his
interview for “Gazeta Wyborcza”,855 the article did not provide any surprising or
854 http://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/the-dark-continent-hitler-s-european-holocaust-
helpers-a-625824.html ; the article was reprinted by a major Polish daily, see: “Gazeta
Wyborcza” 22 V 2009.
855 See: M. Wojciechowski, Niech IPN zostawi “Spiegla” w spokoju, an interview with
D. Libionka, “Gazeta Wyborcza” 22 V 2009.
250 Epilogue
controversial facts, with which many politicians and journalists agreed. In such a
case, one might wonder what the debate was all about.
The key accusation against the authors was their alleged historical revision-
ism; in other words, the fact that they wanted to share German responsibility for
the Holocaust with other European countries and nations to lighten their own
burden. Moreover, the text was interpreted as an example of a certain tendency
characteristic to the German way of thinking, speaking and writing about the
World War II. This tendency manifested itself, for instance, in attempts to modi-
fy the roles they had been assigned and to make the perpetrators victims. Need-
less to say, Erika Steinbach’s activity was first on the list of evidence that such a
tendency existed. The list included also German cinematography (Die Gustlof,
March of Millions, A Woman in Berlin), literature (e.g. Günter Grass) and the
CDU/CSU resolution in May 2009 (just before the European Parliament elec-
tions), appealing for “international condemnation of Germans' post–World War
II expulsion”.
According to the journalist Piotr Semka, the “Der Spiegel” article confirmed
the “deepest Polish fears about changes in German thinking about World War
II”, suggested that “the Nazis found European nations an equal partner in hatred
towards Jews and desire to kill” and equalised “German architects and directors
of murder and those who were forced or paid by Germans to murder”.856 Piotr
Semka was accompanied by the editor-in-chief of the national daily “Rzeczpo-
spolita”, Paweł Lisicki, who wrote in his blog that “Der Spiegel” wanted to re-
write history and the authors of the article did everything they could to ease the
German burden.857
More journalists expressed their negative opinion about “The Dark Conti-
nent”; for example, Andrzej Talaga (“the article smartly effaces German respon-
sibility”)858 and many others – from “Rzeczpospolita”, “Dziennik”, “Polska”,
and, obviously, “Nasz Dziennik”. Deputies and senators of the Law and Justice
Party – Beata Kempa, Jan Ołdakowski and Arkadiusze Mularczyk at the top –
shared their views. The chairman of the Law and Justice Party, Jarosław Ka-
czyński, provocatively said that “we will soon pay compensation to Germans for
soldiers who died in the Warsaw Uprising”.859 Władysław Bartoszewski joined
the group of the article’s critics, saying it was a “blatant lie” and “nonsense not
860 http://www.jewish.org.pl/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2319&Itemid=
57 [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
861 http://www.rp.pl/artykul/309080.html [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
862 http://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/the-dark-continent-hitler-s-european-holocaust-
helpers-a-625824.html
863 P. Skwieciński, Wymazywanie niemieckich win, “Rzeczpospolita” 20 V 2009.
864 http://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/polityka/artykuly/89744,kaczynski-wyborcza-popiera-
niemcow-i-po.html [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
252 Epilogue
the later part of the interview, Cała explained in a sober way how the atmos-
phere created by the Polish national camp, overusing anti-Semitic slogans, the
Catholic Church and Catholic magazines contributed to at least passivity and
indifference of most Poles towards the Holocaust. Taking this context into ac-
count, Cała said that “in a sense” Poles were responsible for “the death of all – 3
million Jews”.865 Without going into details, I will only mention that Cała’s
words are verified by the rich literature of the subject.
Yet, it is important to pay careful attention to the responses to the interview.
Władysław Bartoszewski, in an interview for “Rzeczpospolita”, did not hide his
indignation with Alina Cała’s words,866 the historian Piotr Gontarczyk, Ph.D,
found her views “extremely leftist”;867 and the director of the Warsaw Uprising
Museum, Jan Ołdakowski,868 spoke about his “fury” in reaction to Alina Cała’s
“complete nonsense”. The archbishop Leszek Sławoj Głódź called Cała’s words
a provocation and decided that the Catholic Church had clear conscience and
“no fear of attacks”, adding: “if it goes any further, we may expect to hear that it
was the Church that provoked the war.”869
The journalist Piotr Zaremba went even further. In his polemic with Alina
Cała in “Dziennik” Zaremba, he agreed with some of Cała’s observations but he
also completely misinterpreted the meaning of her words about murdering 3 mil-
lion Jews and understood them literally. Hence, he deprived the historian’s
words of many meaningful phrases, such as “in a sense” or “to some extent”,
which would disable such a literal interpretation. What makes Zaremba’s article
so distinctive, however, are the insinuations he included in it. The journalist
stated openly that Alina Cała was a “bitter enemy of the Catholic Church”, legit-
imising his statement by referring to his own experience (“which I had an oppor-
tunity to learn personally”). He also wrote that “Mrs Cała, completely involun-
tarily, not being German, supported German desire to share their responsibility
for the biggest tragedy of 20th century” and that she even “went further than
German newspaper.”870
865 P. Zychowicz, Polacy jako naród nie zdali egzaminu, rozmowa z A. Całą, “Rzeczpo-
spolita” 25 V 2009.
866 P. Zychowicz, Wielu endeków pomagało Żydom, rozmowa z W. Bartoszewskim,
“Rzeczpospolita” 26 V 2009.
867 P. Gontarczyk, Nonsensy, uproszczenia, konfabulacje, “Rzeczpospolita” 27 V 2009.
868 http://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/polityka/artykuly/150447,polacy-zabijali-zydow-kosmiczne-
bzdury.html [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
869 http://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/wydarzenia/artykuly/150407,glodz-polacy-katami-zydow-
to-prowokacja.html [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
870 http://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/opinie/artykuly/150513,to-nie-polacy-wymordowali-
zydow.html [accessed: 12 IX 2012]
Epilogue 253
There was also the implicit message Zaremba provided in his article. He un-
dermined the legitimacy of Alina Cała’s words relating to the role of the Catho-
lic Church in infecting the interwar society with anti-Semitism by suggesting
that an anti-Catholic fanatic could not be objective in that case. That’s not all.
Let us imagine that following Piotr Zaremba, who eliminated the phrases “in a
sense” and “to some extent” from Alina Cała’s statement, one would eliminate
the word “involuntarily” from his sentence about “supporting German desire”.
Considering that Cała works for Jewish Historical Institute, of which Piotr Za-
remba informs in the first words of his paper, the accusation may sound familiar
to the reader. Bearing in mind how, in March 1968, the authorities promoted the
idea of Jewish conspiracy aimed at washing off German guilt and assigning co-
responsibility for the Holocaust to Poles, the reader can wonder whether history
is repeating itself.
There is yet another issue relating to the Polish debate over the article in
“Der Spiegel” that is worth considering. The message of this article was com-
pletely ignored both in Poland and in the rest of Europe. Many comments and
statements suggested that the Holocaust did not concern anyone else except
Germans (the perpetrators) and Jews (the victims).
In other words, nothing has changed since the war when Poles and Jews
were dying separately. Sławomir Mrożek wrote about it: “What was happening
to Jews during the occupation did not arouse amusement in my surroundings; it
aroused horror, but this was the horror that was incorporated into the general
horror of the war and occupation. After all, what was happening between Ger-
mans and Jews was only an affair between Germans and Jews. Thus it was no
business of ours.”871 This opinion illustrates why a shift in the way we think is
required. Another reason are the disgraceful attitudes of Poles towards Jews dur-
ing the war, which cannot be counterbalanced by the Polish Righteous Among
the Nations or trees in Yad Vashem. The fear that the “guardian mole” from
Czesław Miłosz’s poem will count us “among the helpers of death: The uncir-
cumcised” cannot block our speech. The phenomenon of SEP manifests itself
today in statements that Germans should not publically speak about any com-
plicity in the Holocaust other than their own because it is their problem. Does
“Kain’s stigma” really exclude the possibility of talking about the past, especial-
ly if those who talk are honest and do not attempt to hide their blame?
The article in “Der Spiegel” has clearly shown that the Holocaust was the
experience of Europe in its entirety. Considering the Holocaust as involving on-
ly Germans and Jews removes a number of important issues from sight, for ex-
ample the question as to what extent the pre-war European anti-Semitism made
that Holocaust possible to conceive of and implement. In that civilised and mod-
ern Europe all safeguards failed, as did ethics and humanism. As Henryk Gryn-
berg noted, “Europe has more murders on its conscience than the whole rest of
the world. And the 20th century broke the records of all times. The European 20th
century gave birth to Hitler. Only in Europe, brought up on an anti-Jewish myth,
could consciences be so corrupted”.872 Is this statement so different from the
question asked by the historian Götz Aly in “Der Spiegel”? Can the Holocaust
be explained only by relating it to German history? Europe after the Holocaust,
the Europe of perpetrators, witnesses and bystanders, is certainly different. “To
Europe – yes, but together with our dead” Maria Janion wrote.873 Jews are our
dead and the dead of Europe. Perhaps this is how the “Der Spiegel” article
should be interpreted, rather than striking a nationalistic note, suggesting that
German revisionism is still alive and calling for the rejection of this apparent
revisionism.
Less than two years had passed since the publication of the article in “Der
Spiegel”, when in March 2011 a new book by Jan Tomasz Gross and Ireną
Grudzińską-Gross was released, entitled: “Golden Harvest: Events at the Pe-
riphery of the Holocaust”.874 Like “Fear”, it was published by the prestigious
editorial house “Znak” and it also sparked off a debate. It had actually provoked
a debate before the official premiere, as the authors decided to share a draft ver-
sion with acquainted historians, sociologists and journalists; on the grapevine, it
reached a number of other readers. Therefore, a public debate over the content
of the book began even before the book reached bookstore shelves and everyone
had a chance to read it. The discussion was held among the privileged few, or
people who formulated their opinions on the basis of other people’s reviews:
those who had actually read the book. This fact considerably influenced the
course and temperature of the debate, which started to fade after the premiere of
“Golden Harvest”.
It is impossible to make a thorough summary of “Golden Harvest”. In the
most general terms, the book describes how European society, mainly Poles,
financially benefited from the extermination of Jews. The authors focused on
diverse methods of taking over Jewish property by ordinary people during the
war – on blackmailing, theft, murders and on situations when local people
reaped benefits at the expense of their Jewish neighbours who were taken to ex-
termination camps. One part of the book describes the incidents of plundering
Therefore, it should be firmly stated that in the debate over “Golden Har-
vest”, Barbara Engelking and Jan Grabowski were the main experts, invited to
most TV programmes and interviewed by national press. However, it is very
likely that if it had not been for “Golden Harvest”, Engelking’s and Grabowski’s
publications would not have been noticed and treated as complimenting the
book of the Grosses. The media presented them as even more reliable and better
documented than “Golden Harvest”. This fact is particularly worthy of attention
if we remember how “Fear” was compared to Marek Jan Chodakiewicz’s “Po
Zagładzie. Stosunki polsko-żydowskie 1944-1947” [After the Holocaust: Polish-
Jewish Relations 1944-1947]. Chodakiewicz’s book, marked with the stamp of
the Institute of National Remembrance, was then recommended as a reliable al-
ternative to the unreliable “Fear”. In bookshop windows, the two books were
often put next to each other as if they were a two-volume edition – obverse and
reverse; truth and falsity. It is very likely that now “Golden Harvest” is placed
on a bookstore shelf next to Engelking’s and Grabowski’s publications. Perhaps
a new book by Marek J. Chodakiewicz about Poles saving Jews, with a mean-
ingful title “Złote serca czy złote żniwa?”879 [“Golden Hearts or Golden Har-
vest?”] is also there. Polish Righteous or Polish murderers? Cannot these two
histories coexist? Does one really exclude the other? Does the Polish language
not include various words such as “szmalcownik”, denunciator, murderer, hero,
the righteous?
Let us return to the public debate that related mostly to the book by the
Grosses. Attitudes revealed during the debate confirm the previously noted ob-
servation about repeating patterns of discussion, opinions and stands. Yet anoth-
er time, many positivist-oriented historians and journalists criticised the meth-
odology of the authors and their selection of sources. This accusation seems rit-
ual and Jan Tomasz Gross can probably be considered the most thoroughly in-
vestigated scholar in relation to his research tools. Naturally, not each and every
remark about methodology should be interpreted as an attempt to invalidate the
author’s findings, but it seems that such was the aim of most of the comments.
Another strategy to belittle or disparage the content of the book was provid-
ing detailed analyses of the photographs around which the narration of the book
was constructed. A few different articles in the national press were published
that cast doubt on Gross’s interpretation of the photographs. According to Gross,
they depicted people digging mass graves in search of gold and other valua-
879 M. J. Chodakiewicz (ed.), Złote serca, czy złote żniwa? Studia nad wojennymi losami
Polaków i Żydów, Wydawnictwo De Facto 2011.
Epilogue 257
bles.880 In the end, no evidence was found that could question this interpretation.
No other alternative hypotheses about the time and place where the picture had
been taken and the events it had depicted were confirmed. Even if they were,
does it mean that the content of the book should be significantly modified? Ana-
logically, did the publically encouraged exhumation in Jedwabne and its results
undermine the content and meaning of “Neighbors”?
The debate over “Golden Harvest” included many more motives well known
from previous debates, such as the accusation that the authors had made numer-
ous generalisations or did not take social context into account: war and postwar
demoralisation, decline of the prevailing social order, lack of authorities, back-
wardness, poverty and famine in the Polish countryside. The historians who
agreed on it were e.g. Marcin Zaremba,881 Bożena Szaynok882 and Paweł
Machcewicz,883 even if their attitudes to the book were different. In her polemics
with Paweł Machcewicz, Joanna Tokarska-Bakir noted that “indescribable con-
tempt lies in associating social origin and poverty with demoralisation; in think-
ing ‘he is poor, therefore he steals and kills’ (...) Murderers are sometimes born
in poverty but not all the poor are murders. We must look for other explana-
tions.”884
The Grosses were also accused of ignoring the subject of the Polish Right-
eous. Jan Tomasz Gross answered this accusation in person, explaining he had
chosen another topic and arguing that authors writing about help given to Jews,
including the aid provided by Żegota, had never been accused of being selective
and neglecting the subject of murdering Jews.885 Another returning accusation
was that Gross was a sociologist and not a historian, and that his book was not a
reliable monograph but only a poor essay. Moreover, numerous debaters empha-
sised that Gross’s work did not add anything new but only quoted studies of
other scholars, as Gross himself had never conducted any. However, there were
also debaters who explained the content and meaning of “Golden Harvest” in
terms of the origin (Jewish roots) and personal experience of the author, includ-
ing his emigration to the USA, which was supposed to emphasise his “strange-
ness”. Suffice to say that the historian Jan Żaryn, from the Institute of National
Remembrance, argued that Gross’s books “fit into a trend in Jewish literature
and historiography (mainly biographical, but also research), which is filled with
deep hatred for Poles.”886 Władysław Bartoszewski emphasised that Gross was
more a sociologist than a historian, that “as a writer he’s more American than
Polish” and that he grew up in specific environment, learning the history of his
mother, whose first husband had been denounced by a Polish neighbour and
murdered in consequence. According to Bartoszewski, this fact, as well as the
experience of anti-Semitism in 1968, when he was a young student, made him
suffer from "great mental strain”. Don’t these interpretations sound familiar?
Some debaters expressed a rather Pharisaic concern about the possibility
that the publication of “Golden Harvest” could cause anti-Semitism. Such fears
were expressed e.g. by the aforementioned Władysław Bartoszewski in “Gość
Niedzielny” and by Danuta Skóra, the director of “Znak” publishing house, who
also, for some reason known only to herself, apologised to readers who felt of-
fended by “Golden Harvest”. Why and how the book could cause anti-Semitism
was not explained. It is certain that every publication or statement related to the
difficult Polish-Jewish past makes us see that anti-Semitism does exist and al-
lows anti-Semites to count their ranks. A repetitive rhetoric figure that appears
in debates over Gross’s books is the persistent concern about evoking anti-
Semitism and that the books are, in fact, the mirror that reflect these sentiments.
Even if anti-Semitism exists, once it is asleep and hidden from sight it is not an
eyesore.
The debaters once again divided into enlightened citizens, ready to deal with
the difficult past, and suffering patriots, considering “Golden Harvest” as anti-
Polonism or “intellectual rubbish” that is not worth a debate, as Reverend Tade-
usz Isakowicz-Zaleski called it. This polar division was described in “Więź”
monthly. Michał Bilewicz wrote about leftist and rightist Poland, entrenched in
their positions and no longer interested in arguing their case. In his opinion, until
recently Poles had been willing to argue over the Jedwabne and Kielce pogroms,
about their motives, and about the scale of Polish collaboration with the Nazis,
but in the debate over “Golden Harvest” they only either accepted the brutal
truth of their past or denied it. The debate on “Golden Harvest” – or rather lack
of debate, indicates, according to Bilewicz, a wider process: decline in public
debate in Poland and two differentiating Polish communities of memory: leftist
and rightist.”887 Similarly, Barbara Engelking noted that the whole discussion
about the attitude to the past was about Poland’s way of being in the world –
“anachronistic or modern, infantile or mature”.888 It is also difficult to avoid the
impression that this short debate without internal momentum was once again
imbued with nationalist spirit manifesting itself in its traditional and modernist
version. Deputy Zbigniew Girzyński displayed the former, declaring in Tomasz
Lis’ TV show that “Polish history and Poles can be proud of themselves”. The
latter manifested itself in the mathematical calculations of victims and perpetra-
tors and attempts to measure good and bad by percents. These discourses per-
meated, reinforced and complemented each other. Once again, nationalism im-
plied a defensive stand and became a barrier to noticing universal meanings and
problems in the content of “Golden Harvest”, such as the key question of appro-
priation and redistribution of the properties of the Holocaust victims. Although
the scale, context and methods of this process were different, it occurred in
many European countries during and after World War II. What was the Polish
version of the process? The Grosses outlined it and pointed at key traits. Similar
to Barbara Engelking and Jan Grabowski, the authors paid attention to what was
happening “at the peripheries of the Holocaust”: in the Polish countryside, hin-
terland, backwoods, where murders of Jews, differently motivated, were a
gloomy commonness, fitted into the landscape. Most importantly, however, the
debate sparked off by their book meant that our dictionary gained new terms
such as “the peripheries of the Holocaust”, “third stage of the Holocaust”,
“Judenjagd” or “human desert” – an ingenious and painful phrase coined by
Charles Baudelaire and used by Barbara Engelking. Without these terms, it
would be difficult to think, speak and write about the Holocaust, particularly
about its Polish context.
The end of 2012 brought yet another scene of the debate around the difficult
Polish-Jewish past, during which the above-mentioned terms were used and the
publications of Jan Tomasz Gross and Jan Grabowski were cited again. This
time, the catalyst for the discussion was the premiere of a film entitled “Pokło-
sie” [“Aftermath”] directed by Władysław Pasikowski. This famous Polish di-
rector was until then known for gangster or even thriller movies about tough
guys. He was also famous for probably the most sexist dialogues in Polish cin-
ematography and vulgar lines that still dwell in pop culture.
In his newest film, however, Pasikowski broached a completely different
subject. Following the artistic language he had elaborated – thriller and western
aesthetics – the director presented a story that on the one hand was modern, but
889 Łukasz Baksik’s exhibition in the Centre for Contemporary Art in Warsaw entitled:
“Macewy codziennego użytku” [“Matzevot for everyday use”] clearly shows how Jewish
gravestones have been used in postwar Poland.
Epilogue 261
Pasikowski’s film as a direct reference to the Jedwabne pogrom. Thus, the same
accusations that had been once made against Gross (and which the author en-
countered after the release of each new book) were raised to Pasikowski. More-
over, a non-documentary film, based on original screenplay and not intended to
reconstruct historical events (although consulted with historians), was evaluated
with the use of methodological criteria of academic work.
Critics pointed out that Pasikowski presented an image of Polish countryside
that was far from reality and highly stereotypical: villagers were depicted as al-
ways drunk, violent and anti-Semitic primitives. They also accused him of gen-
eralisations, simplifications and ignoring important contexts; of drawing a false
and incomplete picture. The director was reproached with disregarding the hero-
ic attitudes of Poles during the war and the key role of Germans in the Jedwabne
pogrom. Most importantly, rightist (but not exclusively) journalists and histori-
ans pointed out that the film said nothing about the motives for the murder. Ac-
cording to these critics, the pogrom was revenge for the wrong done by the Red
Army to Poles when they occupied a part of Polish lands after 17 September
1939. Thus, the topic of collaboration between Jews and communists returned
with force, and strengthened mythological images of Jews building triumphant
arches for the Red Army and welcoming them with bread and salt; of vindictive
Jewish officers in the secret police and almighty Jewish commissioners.890 In
short, one could observe the return of an explanation of the events of July 1941
as an act of vengeance.
Another returning motif was the fear of the opinion of western audiences
(“What will they think of us abroad?”). A decade earlier, similar fears concerned
“Neighbors”. Although the form of transferring the horrible truth changed, odd-
ly interpreted concern about Poland’s good name remained the same, as well as
the rule not to discuss the skeletons in one’s closet with outsiders. Strong critics
of the film emphasised that the government, which financially supported pro-
duction, also funded negative PR for Poland: an anti-Polish movie with taxpay-
ers’ money. Those who wrote such words, and there were many of them, appar-
ently disregarded the fact that the debate around the Jedwabne pogrom had met
with a very positive reception outside Poland. Honest discussion about Poland’s
difficult past and a willingness to confess their sins against Jews gained general
admiration and respect.
Naturally, there were many more objections to the film, relating to its artis-
tic value, aesthetic convention and stylistic mistakes, which belittled the value
and message of the movie. The final scene of the movie, in which the main
890 See: np. P. Zychowicz, Polacy, Żydzi, kolaboracja, Holokaust, “Uważam Rze” 19-25
XI 2012; P. Semka, Kolejna przekroczona granica, “Uważam Rze” 19-25 XI 2012.
262 Epilogue
patriotism that is not based on blind apology and affirmation of national past but
demands a critical approach.
Therefore, the debate over Pasikowski’s film did not transform the repetitive
scenario of arguments over Polish complicity in the Holocaust. It did not disturb
old mechanisms or roles that were once assigned. It only cemented the division
(described e.g. by the social psychologist Michał Bilewicz) between the liberal,
leftist Poland, ready to face its difficult past and the rightist Poland – repressing
this past in the name of sanctifying the Polish nation. This polarisation, natural-
ly, includes numerous simplifications and generalisations but the core of it is
noticeable.
Another observation by Bilewicz, however, does not apply to the debate
over Jedwabne. In one of his articles, the psychologist claimed that Polish reac-
tions to Gross’s books exemplify the so-called sensitivity effect. It means that
the same information that is critical to one’s nation hurts much more when it is
heard from the mouth of a stranger than from one’s fellow citizen.892 Admitted-
ly, this theory was proved right during the debate over “Neighbors”, “Fear” or
“Golden Harvest”. Many opponents of Gross called him an “American” or
“Jewish” sociologist and emphasised his strangeness in various ways. Needless
to say, evaluating his work in these categories is not only unproductive but also
illustrates a fundamental malevolent intention to discredit the author by empha-
sising his ‘foreignness’.
Władysław Pasikowski, however, is Polish through-and-through, perma-
nently resident in the country by the Vistula and is a director who makes films
about tough guys for tough guys. The sensitivity effect explains nothing, even if
one linked the film directly to the “foreign” Gross and interpreted it as its screen
version. This time, it was a one hundred percent Pole who told the story of a dif-
ficult past to his fellow citizens; it was him who brought them the mirror. He
used the potential of mass media – a film screened all around Poland, which is
soon going to be released on DVD and BLUERAY. He revealed our open se-
crets about murdering Jews, hiding these crimes and the negative attitude of the
majority to those who decide to break the silence by representing them in a
thriller-style film, addressed to a wider audience. Until then, knowledge had
been accessible only to insiders and readers interested in professional literature
published by the Centre for the Holocaust Research or the Jewish Historical In-
stitute, everything was all right and the defenders of the nation could sleep
peacefully – the influence of these publications is microscopic and does not
reach social consciousness.
Pasikowski disturbed their peace. He made the first decent film about the at-
titudes of Poles towards the Holocaust in the history of Polish cinema, without
the figures of the Polish Righteous – crucial in Polish discourse, including cine-
matography, without balancing good and bad and, most importantly, without a
preferential attitude. “Gross’s literature became widely available” – many partic-
ipants in the debate on “Pokłosie” repeated, including Barbara Engelking, Jan
Grabowski and other authors of important publications about Polish self-
appointed participation in the Holocaust. Most importantly, the truth became
widely available – the truth that lies in unmarked, shallow graves scattered
around the country that hide the remains of Jews murdered by their Polish
neighbours.893 This fact was the one that most scared declared critics of
Pasikowski’s film and made them unleash an arsenal of charges against him.
Paradoxically, however, their responses actually strengthened the credibility of
the film and made them into involuntary protagonists who complemented the
screenplay. The sensitivity effect worked but in a different way. Defenders of
Poland’s good name, sensitive to everything that is said about Poles, stepped out
against him because they were scared that a popular director, using mass media
tools, expressed his opinion and said something people did not want hear.
Considering what has been already stated, it may be concluded that after
years of silence and forgetting about the Holocaust, about the attitude of Polish
bystanders and the Polish-Jewish past, the topic returned and became the subject
of public reflection. As has been already noted, all the prevailing debates were
held according to the same pattern and divided participants in a similar way.
This regularity suggests that the patterns will repeat during future debates on the
subject.
Why do Poles find it hard to agree on the Polish-Jewish past and refuse to
let the subject be thoroughly examined? Prevailing debates or even mentions of
these questions have demonstrated that the subject touches a sensitive sphere,
starts defensive mechanisms and mobilises defenders of the national innocence
paradigm. One of the most important reasons behind these reactions is certainly
resistance to the adoption of previously repressed information. All the previous
debates have revealed serious gaps and deformations in Polish national memory,
which results from the processes of collective forgetting.
Nevertheless, these processes are not the only explanation of the fact that
each and every attempt to examine the Polish-Jewish past initiates various de-
fensive mechanisms. An additional barrier is certainly the Polish “innocence ob-
893 See: J. Grabowski, Prawda leży w mogiłach, “Więź” 2011, no. 8-9.
Epilogue 265
session”894 that manifests itself whenever facts colliding with the heroic and
martyr vision of national history are revealed. The impossibility of overcoming
this “obsession” significantly undermines all debates relating to Polish sins and
omissions towards Jews.
This problem is even more complex and concerns important components of
national identity. As one can easily notice, defenders of the national innocence
paradigm, who immediately line up whenever the subject of the Polish-Jewish
past appears in the centre of public debate, do it in the name of the offended and
slandered nation. In the national-Catholic press, the word “nation” is written in
capitals and “Polishness”, “fatherland” or “patriotism” are used as punctuation
marks. Idealisation of the national community and belief in its innocence and
uniqueness are constitutive elements of the mentality of parts of Polish society,
and romantic, messianic myths organise their thoughts. These processes signifi-
cantly limit the ability to notice and acknowledge Poland’s complex past, over-
shadow whatever demands condemnation, limit insight and make the past seem
one-dimensional. Thus, the debates and conflicts over the Polish-Jewish past
and memory have in fact concerned Polish identity. Those who argued were on-
ly Poles (not Poles and Jews) and the stake in this game of memory was mostly
Polish identity, not some Polish-Jewish consensus.
There are also additional factors influencing the fact that examination and
honest evaluation of the Polish-Jewish past faces serious resistance in Poland
and evokes emotional responses. One of them is modern anti-Semitism, which is
not only a margin of public life and does not result – as some people claim –
from lack of education or rural/small town origin. Every discussion about the
Polish-Jewish past wakes up anti-Semitic phobias. Anti-Semitic rhetoric, clichés
and stories were in the very centre of the debates analysed in this book and they
were used not only by journalists of marginal Catholic and nationalist magazines
but also by the Polish elites. Although they differed in the level of literality and
euphemism, the origin of the anti-Semitic matrix was the same. The heritage of
the interwar nationalist camp, reanimated in the People’s Republic of Poland,
has been constantly reproduced. Nationalist traditions are cultivated, and leading
Polish politicians refer to them as their legacy. Thus, one can say that the Polish
mentality has not been modernised and until it has, debates about the Polish-
Jewish past will follow their prevailing course.
Another factor that hinders Poles in confessing their sins against Jews and
acknowledging exceptionality of the Holocaust is “victimisation competition”
between Poles and Jews. This competition determined the course of the debates,
894 The term was borrowed from an essay by Joanna Tokarska-Bakir. See: J. Tokarska-
Bakir, Rzeczy mgliste, Sejny 2004, s. 13-23.
266 Epilogue
particularly the conflicts over Auschwitz-Birkenau. Poles do not accept the im-
age of World War II outside Poland, i.e. that it is perceived through the prism of
the Holocaust. They believe that such an image obscures the uniqueness of their
own suffering, which they cherish and hope the world will recognise. Thus, they
refuse to acknowledge the distinctiveness of Jewish martyrdom, in fear that if
they do, the memory of their own suffering will become secondary.895 Victimi-
sation competition may explain why most Poles do not acknowledge Jews as
main victims of Auschwitz-Birkenau and do not consider this place to be the
symbol of the Holocaust. To some extent, this also explains why, during so
many debates, particularly the one after publication of “Neighbors”, many par-
ticipants decided to remind everyone about Polish martyrdom during the occu-
pation, particularly about the suffering supposedly caused by Jews.
There are still two important questions to be asked at the end. Can the pre-
vailing debates be regarded as an element of the process of the reconstruction of
Polish memory of the Holocaust and Polish-Jewish relations during the World
War II? Have they provided a reason for moral cleansing? Undoubtedly, the de-
bate over the Jedwabne pogrom was a chance to re-evaluate the past and for
moral purification. It was the longest, deepest and most multi-threaded debate
on the Polish-Jewish past of all. At the same time, it was the most difficult as it
forced Poles to find themselves in the roles of perpetrators of one's own misery.
Brave voices of critical self-reflection were, for the first time, not drowned out
by defenders of the Polish reputation. This debate undoubtedly helped Poles to
speak about their difficult past. Unfortunately, one cannot say the same about
the debates over “Fear”, “Golden Harvest”, or the film “Pokłosie”. Aggressive
responses were also present in the debate over the article in “Der Spiegel” about
the various forms of complicity of European citizens in the extermination of
Jews. Perhaps we need more time to frame certain events into national memory.
Michał Bilewicz is right in saying that thanks to debates over Gross’s books and
without the awareness of agitated critics, the “sleepyhead effect” will start to
work. This means that the key content of “Fear”, “Neighbors” and “Golden
Harvest” will live their own lives, independently from their source, fading from
our memory. Thus, if we are asked whether Poles murdered Jews in Jedwabne
and other towns, whether they murdered them also after the war, we will give a
positive answer that will not be anchored in Gross’s books – maybe we will re-
call them after a moment of reflection. Poles, as Bilewicz shrewdly observed,
“will need some more time to forget about the ‘vampire of historiography’;
however, we can be almost certain that they will not forget the facts publicised
by Gross as they expanded the Polish horizon of imagination about what was
possible during the Nazi occupation and during the postwar years”. In this con-
text, Gross’s books should be appreciated as “a tool for mass dissemination of
knowledge about history.”896 “Pokłosie” by Pasikowski also became such a tool.
The process of the reconstruction of Polish memory of the Holocaust has
been developing for a relatively short time and it is impossible to catch up with
this backlog quickly. Therefore, there are yet many issues that need national
self-examination and drawing out of silence and oblivion. The Polish attitudes
towards the Holocaust were usually analysed by referring to a very comfortable
category of a bystander – one of the three attitudes distinguished by the historian
Raul Hilberg.897 However, as Elżbieta Janicka notes, in the light of the
knowledge that we have, the concept loses its relevance. Instead, she proposes to
call this attitude an "insider participant observation”. Referring to Hilberg, Ja-
nicka writes:
The perspective offered by the scholar is inadequate. Bystander? Neither “stander”
nor “by”. But we still lack the language to call this position – the position of Poles
that certainly is not a position of a bystander. [...] Because we must ask: is an in-
volved – literally and metaphorically – bystander still a bystander? The Polish posi-
tion was not in the middle and it was not outside. Neither was it formalised in any
way. Categories of participation or aid in a crime may seem – and I believe they do
– too simple and too narrow at the same time. In other words: so simplistic that they
“catch” only the most obvious and undisputed manifestations of the phenomenon.
How should we classify the so-called indifference? I claim that due to previous
“preparation”, “introduction to the subject”, “acquaintance”, there was nothing of
this sort. I would suggest the term “insider participant observation” for solely “par-
ticipant observation” is too little. It would be conducted in thought, word, deed and
omission. In this category – I believe – there is space for a multitude and nuance of
manifestations.898
Increasingly often, constantly developed knowledge makes us sit on the side of
those who have their complicity in the Holocaust. This way or another, the pro-
cess of the reconstruction of the Polish memory of the Holocaust started. In
2003, the first Polish school textbook about the Holocaust was released and, in
the same year in Warsaw, the Centre for the Holocaust was created in the Insti-
tute of Philosophy and Sociology of the Polish Academy of Sciences. At the end
of June 2007, in Muranów – a former Jewish district – the foundation act for the
896 See: M. Bilewicz, Nie tylko o “Strachu”. Psychologia potocznego rozumienia historii,
“Zagłada Żydów. Studia i materiały” 2008, no. 4, s. 524-526.
897 See: R. Hilberg, Perpetrators Victims Bystanders: The Jewish catastrophe, 1933-1945,
Aaron Asher Books, NY, 1992
898 E. Janicka, Mord rytualny z aryjskiego paragrafu. O książce Jana Tomasza Grossa
“Strach. Antysemityzm w Polsce tuż po wojnie. Historia moralnej zapaści”, “Kultura
i Społeczeństwo” 2008, no. 2.
268 Epilogue
Museum of the History of Polish Jews was laid. In spring 2013 there was an of-
ficial opening. Certainly, these are symptoms of restoring the memory of former
Polish citizens and the tragic reason for their absence. Let us hope that the
memory of Polish Jews will not be limited only to the Holocaust. We still, how-
ever, have a lot of painful things to say about our attitudes to the Holocaust and
Jews.
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Band 3 Marta Grzechnik: Regional Histories and Historical Regions. The Concept of the Baltic Sea
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