Anti-Semitism is a
truly remarkable phenomenon. To their enemies, the Jews can play any role: they
are shapeshifters who can take on any form to represent deeply-held fears,
anxieties, and resentments. To the right, the Jew is a communist; to the left,
he is a capitalist exploiter. The Jew is simultaneously too assimilated and not
assimilated enough. On the one hand, the Jew is overly cosmopolitan and internationalist;
on the other, he is too narrow-minded, clinging to absurd, outdated traditions
and to Israel. There is one constant that ties all of these together: the Jew
is the very personification of the other, of evil on earth; a god-killer, a
blood-drinker, a liar, a swindler - Satan himself. In every epoch, the Jew
becomes what is most feared. Anti-Semitism differs from racism in that it is, among die-hard haters, a conspiracy theory that defines entire worldviews.
The most
significant form of anti-Semitism in the first half of the 20th
century was the identification of Jews with communism (in the second half of
that century, and today, it is the unhinged, obsessive, and disproportionate
hatred heaped upon Israel from all quarters). The notion of the Jewish
communist (Żydokomuna in Polish) had
a shattering impact on the Jews of Europe, directly leading to the
extermination of two-thirds of their number. The events of the Bolshevik
Revolution and the Russian Civil War in the east, which were (rightfully) terrifying
for Europeans to behold, were conveniently laid at the feet of the Jews. So
while the fear was not irrational, what was was the analysis of the
circumstances and the prescribed remedies, which included discrimination
against Jews and, ultimately, their murder.
It is nearly
impossible to overstate the devastating impact of the First World War on
European society. The conflagration witnessed the deaths of 10 million people
and the mutilation of twice that. It also destroyed three empires: the Russian
Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and the Habsburg Empire. In the wreckage, new
nation-states began to take shape including, most importantly for our purposes,
Poland, which, once a mighty empire, had declined in status and then been wiped
off the face of Europe via three partitions, enacted by Prussia, Russia, and Austria,
and culminating in 1795.
The Poles
celebrate November 11, 1918 (Armistice Day to several Western countries) as
their independence day. Russia capitulated in February 1918 after the Soviets
signed the Brest-Litovsk Treaty with Germany. This treaty gave present-day
Poland, Belarus, parts of Ukraine, and the Baltic States to Germany – however,
after Germany was defeated on the western front, it was forced to surrender
these territories. In light of the German relinquishment of the territories and United States President Woodrow Wilson’s promotion of self-determination, the Poles took this
opportunity to declare their independence and sovereignty, after months of
intensive diplomacy. For the first time in 123 years, Poland appeared on the
map of Europe.
In the late 19th
and early 20th century, two dominant strains of Polish nationalism
took shape. One, whose standard bearer was Józef Piłsudski, the first leader of modern, independent Poland, wanted Poland to be
inclusive: it would welcome the Jews, Ukrainians, and Belarusians who lived in
the Polish lands and incorporate them as full citizens into any Polish state
that would take shape. He was also open to the Ukrainians and Belarusians having
their own states and to form a confederacy of Slavic nations to push back
against the traditional enemy, Russia, now under the rule of Vladimir Lenin and
the Bolsheviks. The other form of nationalism was sharply exclusivist and was
argued most consistently and vociferously by Roman Dmowski, the leader of the
right-wing National Democracy party. Dmowski believed that Polish identity
applied specifically, and only, to Polish Catholics who spoke the Polish
language. Neither of these conditions applied to the Ukrainians and Belarusians,
who spoke their own language and were overwhelmingly Greek Catholic and
Orthodox in their religious identities, respectively; nor did they apply to the
Jews, who obviously were not Catholic and predominantly spoke Yiddish, although
there was an urban stratum that was increasingly assimilating and speaking
Polish as their mother tongue, primarily in large cities like Warsaw and Lwów. To Dmowski, these minorities could never
be Poles, no matter how much they spoke the Polish language or adopted Polish
culture; they could be in Poland but
not of it because, to his mind,
Polishness and Catholicism were essentially synonymous. After Piłsudski’s death
in 1935, Dmowski’s became the dominant form of Polish nationalism, leading directly
to ghetto benches in Polish universities (where Jews had to sit in a particular
section of the lecture hall), the boycotting of Jewish goods, and the use of
quotas in the acceptance of university students as well as in certain
professions. So, in other words, by the eve of the Second World War, life had
become decidedly uncomfortable for the Jews of Poland.
Dmowski in
particular was quite animated by the notion of the Jew as communist. He
elaborated on this theme in his treatise W
kwestii komunizmu (“On the Question of Communism”), in which he laid out
his belief that communism was essentially a Jewish plot. When the Soviet Union
invaded eastern Poland in September 1939, and some Jews welcomed them
enthusiastically, this was all the evidence that Poles prone to anti-Semitism
needed that Dmowski was correct in his analysis: the Jews and communists were
one and the same.
Further east, in
Russia, the Bolsheviks were fighting for their very lives in a horrifically
bloody, and confusing, civil war against various anti-Bolshevik forces and
Ukrainian nationalists, who fought both sides. While both sides committed pogroms
against the Jews, it was the anti-Bolshevik forces (the “Whites”) and
particularly the Cossack legions fighting alongside them who did the lion’s
share of the killing and destroying of Jewish communities. In this context,
naturally, Jews gravitated to the Bolsheviks (the Reds), which was done not out
of any love for them, but out of fear and the need for security. When the
Bolsheviks eventually won the war, due to the Whites’ lack of equipment,
insecure supply lines, and inability/unwillingness to coordinate their efforts,
Jews in the lands they had conquered were able, for the first time in their
history, to serve in government institutions and rise in the military above the
NCO level.
The visibility of
Jews in these areas jolted the average Russian, who had never seen such a thing
and did not believe it possible. Their perception that Bolshevism was Jewish in
nature was fueled by the Jewish origin of certain prominent Bolsheviks (such as
Leon Trotsky, Grigorii Zinoviev, and Lev Kamenev). Practically no Jews had
lived in Russia until the partition of Polish lands in the late 18th
century, when hundreds of thousands came under Russian control. Beginning in
1791, the Jews were forced to live in the Pale of Settlement (which includes
modern day Belarus, Lithuania, and western Ukraine), with only extraordinarily
wealthy and educated Jews allowed to live in the Russian lands. In 1916, after hundreds
of thousands of Jews were deported from the Pale to interior Russia (following German
and Austro-Hungarian military defeats of the Russian army and pursuant to the
belief that the Jews were pro-German traitors and spies), the Pale essentially
came to an end. The Pale was officially abolished by the Russian Provisional Government
in 1917.
Seeing Jews serving
as local customs and post office officials where literally none had lived
before was a jolting experience to the average Russian. So, concurrently with
the Bolshevik coming to and consolidation of power, there was an increased
visibility of Jews in public life and the concomitant impression that it was
the Jews who were gaining from the Bolshevik coup, not the average Russian (in
fact, most Russian Jews were Zionist in their inclinations and, to the extent
that they favored the left, they supported the Mensheviks and the
Socialist-Revolutionaries, who the control-obsessed Bolsheviks abhorred). The
Russian right-wing, already infused with an anti-Semitism (some of it formed by
the infamous Protocols of the Elders of
Zion, which was of Russian provenance and became particularly influential
in the aftermath of World War I and the Russian Civil War, when devastated and
traumatized people sought answers for these calamities), inculcated this
belief. In their defeat in 1921, they emigrated from Russia, many to Germany.
There, they explained their defeat by attributing it to a malevolent Jewish
conspiracy, of which the Bolsheviks were the most visible manifestation. After
all, look at the Red Army’s leader, the decidedly violent and hateful Leon Trotsky;
was he not a Jew? Therefore, a German nation that was trying to come to grips
with having lost a war that it believed it was on the cusp of winning, and
already prone to blame the Jews and the Left for having stabbed the German army
in the back, was infused with a potent strain of anti-Semitism from Russian
rightists that ultimately helped to convince Adolf Hitler of the symbiosis
between Jews and Bolshevism. Hitler came to his anti-Communism via his anti-Semitism, not the other way around. Ironically, the Nazis’ fervently-held belief that
the Soviet regime was Jewish, which ultimately led to Operation Barbarossa –
the German invasion of the Soviet Union that unleashed the bloodiest war in
history, killing millions of Russians – was largely attributable to Russian
influence. Hitler’s chief “philosopher”, Alfred Rosenberg, was born in Estonia
in what was then the Russian empire, and traveled in these Russian monarchist circles.
The Żydokomuna concept that Dmowski had done
so much to popularize was largely internalized by certain swathes of Polish
society, particularly in the lower-middle and middle-classes where there was
direct economic competition with the Jews. Many Poles of this socioeconomic
class believed that, now that Poland was free, Poles and not Jews, should have their livelihoods and opportunities
improve. Hence the economic boycotts, alluded to above, in parts of eastern
Poland in the mid- to late-1930s. Because the concept of the Jew as the ultimate
other was so taken for granted, Jews were held to be more aligned with
communism than they actually were. In the 1928 parliamentary elections, for
example, only seven percent of Jews voted for the Communist Party; half of them
voted for Piłsudski’s Sanacja bloc. On
the other hand, nearly half of Belarusians, who were largely peasant and almost
uniformly Orthodox, and not integrated into the Polish body politic, voted for
Poland’s Communist Party. But when push came to shove, it was the Jews who were
associated with the Soviet Union, the Bolshevik Party, and communism writ large
– not the Belarusians. This has to do with several reasons, including
traditional anti-Semitism, the sense of economic competition, and the general
sense of there being an alienness to the Jews, an alienness that set them apart
even from the other minorities in the Polish midst. Yes, Trotsky and Zinoviev
were Jews prominent in the Bolshevik movement and therefore visible to the
masses; but if not for them, other scapegoats would surely have been found to “prove”
that Bolshevism was but a Jewish conspiracy.
When the Soviet
Union invaded eastern Poland in September 1939 and instituted its communist
system, destroying civil society, church and synagogue finances and administration,
and deporting hundreds of thousands of Poles to Siberia and Kazakhstan, many
Poles came to blame the Jews. While surely there were young Jews who not only
welcomed the Red Army but lorded it over the Poles in their new roles, the vast
majority of Jews did not welcome Soviet rule. After all, the Soviets destroyed religious
institutions as well as the livelihoods of business managers, merchants, and
artisans – in all of which Jews featured prominently. In fact, Jews were
deported out of all proportion to their actual percentage of the Polish population
during the 21 months of Soviet occupation. Large portions of Belarusians were
involved in the Soviet administration, but for the Poles, there was a
perception that only the Jews had benefited from the Soviet occupation. Just as
Russians farther east had never seen a Jew, let alone in a position of power
(even at a local level), so too were Poles taken aback by seeing Jews – a tolerated
minority, at best – in positions of influence. It was this shock to the system
that made the “arrogant Jews” stick out so sharply in the Polish collective
memory – significantly more so than Belarusians, Ukrainians, and indeed Polish
Catholics themselves who also collaborated with Soviet power. They too came to
associate the rise of Jewish influence and opportunity with the influx of
Soviet institutions and domination – and it formed an indelible image in their
mind of the Jewish-Communist, an image that has not been erased even to this
very day.
So when the German
armies invaded the Soviet Union and its occupied territories on June 22, 1941,
they unleashed a tsunami of ethnic hatreds. The combination of emergent,
exclusive, integral nationalism, combined with economic anxiety and both
traditional and modern anti-Semitism, and oftentimes sheer thuggery and the
desire to loot, was a combustible mix that needed but a match to strike it. The
German invasion was that match. Comparable and analogous views of the Jew as
the ultimate other and as a communist overlord had also been forged in the
Baltic States and in densely Ukrainian-populated areas of eastern Poland
(eastern Galicia and Volhynia). Upon the Nazi invasion, cities such as Lwów and Kaunas, as well as villages such as
Jedwabne and Radziłów, were the sites of extremely bloody and ruthless pogroms.
In Jedwabne, the Jewish-Bolshevik theme was underlined when Poles forced the Jews to tear
down the statue of Lenin that stood in the town, carry its pieces to a pit to
be buried, and recite prayers for the statue. Subsequently, the Jews were
beaten to death and buried alongside the pieces of the statue; those that could
not fit were marched into a barn, which was lit on fire. Anyone escaping was
hacked down with axes, drowned in wells, and so forth. In Lwów and other cities, the Soviet NKVD had massacred thousands of civilians it had taken prisoner; when the Germans opened these prisons to the public and revealed these atrocities, Ukrainians, Lithuanians, and others took their considerable fury out on the Jews, much to the Germans' delight. Then, and ever after, it
became a convenient “explanation” for these atrocities that the Jews had been
willing collaborators of the communists and had deported and killed the Poles’
family members to the east. What this elides is that the Poles themselves often
collaborated, as did other minorities, and in even larger numbers, both
absolutely and relatively, and the fact that the Jews themselves were destroyed
economically and deported (to repeat, disproportionately) to Siberia and
Kazakhstan. But in the context of a historically anti-Semitic Europe, it was
the canard of the Jewish Communist that stuck, and has continued to stick.
|
A bloodied Jewish woman being chased by a Ukrainian mob; Lwów, 1941 |
It has been a popular trend in the countries of
Eastern Europe to continue to identify Jews as communists, or at least
communist sympathizers, which explains why so many of their national heroes
committed atrocities against them (this is particularly true in Ukraine and
Lithuania). Poland in particular is prickly about being accused of any sort
of complicity with the Nazis, or anti-Semitic violence committed by Poles, or the
Polish repossession of Jewish property, money, and valuables. This is
understandable. The Holocaust was planned and administered by the Germans, and
they slaughtered the majority of European Jews on Polish soil because that is
where the majority of Jews already were. It is a canard and historically
illiterate to suggest that the Nazis built the death camps on Polish soil
because Poles are somehow uniquely anti-Semitic, which is a popularly held idea.
It is also ridiculous to call Treblinka or Auschwitz-Birkenau “Polish death
camps.” In fact, no country of Europe acquitted itself well during the
Holocaust with the exception of Denmark – to be blunt, no one really cared. That
is the horrific reality. The Poles have a severe complex vis-à-vis the
Holocaust and Jews more generally because they witnessed the extermination on
their very soil, they did very little to try to stop it, and they know very
well the provenance of some of their belongings. This has led to an extreme
sensitivity on the part of the Poles about the entire time period, and a quick
trigger finger to accuse the Jews of communist collaborators. As explained
above, that is nonsensical and deeply misconstrued, yet has caused the deep
suffering of Jews, who suffered pogroms in various parts of Poland in 1946-47
and state anti-Semitism (promulgated by the allegedly Jewish Communists in
power) in 1968, both leading to floods of emigration.
The bill that
recently passed the lower house and Senate of the Polish parliament – which stipulates
that any mention of the term “Polish death camp” or accusation of Polish
complicity or crimes against Jews during the Holocaust is a crime – is deeply
disturbing and, ironically, Stalinist in its overtones. The Poles were heroic
during the Second World War. They fought and died in the skies over the English
Channel and on the slopes of Monte Cassino. The single largest uprising against
Nazi rule was the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, when hundreds of thousands of Poles
were killed and their capital city was completely obliterated. More than two million non-Jewish Poles were murdered by the Germans. Thousands of righteous Poles risked their
lives to save Jews from certain death. However, it must be stated that there were
many more who either did not care or who collaborated with the Nazis. This is
simply, and sadly, factual. The Poles will not be able to come to grips with
their history during the Second World War – warts and all – until they face
some hard truths. Simply waving away historical investigation or asserting “but
the Jews were communists” will not do.
The Polish government,
in collaboration with other governments and private Jewish groups, has done an
exemplary job of preserving such sites as Auschwitz-Birkenau, Majdanek, and Bełżec.
Many young Poles are fascinated by Jews, genuinely interested in their history and
their nightmarish fate, perhaps haunted by ghosts, and have done profoundly moving research into the
former Jewish communities of Poland. I speak specifically, but not exclusively,
of the work being done by the Teatr-NN in Lublin, which is doing everything it
can to document and commemorate the lost world of Lublin Jewry. But the complex
persists, and this latest law is but the latest manifestation. For one who has a high
estimation of the Polish people, their history, and their culture, I hope the
day of genuine, widespread, and official self-appraisal comes sooner rather
than later.