This NY Times article was both touching and disturbing, almost in equal measures.
It describes a phenomenon in present-day Poland that might be described as philo-Semitism, the opposite of anti-Semitism. Now that there are virtually no Jews in that country—a land in which one in ten citizens had been Jewish, pre-WWII—there’s a movement to revive and revere the Jewish culture that was lost. It’s an illustration of the old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
In the Poland of today, especially among the trendy young:
“Jewish style” restaurants are serving up platters of pirogis, klezmer bands are playing plaintive Oriental melodies, derelict synagogues are gradually being restored. Every June, a festival of Jewish culture here draws thousands of people to sing Jewish songs and dance Jewish dances. The only thing missing, really, are Jews.
Poland is not alone in its Jewstalgia. Russia seems to be experiencing something of the sort as well, and a year or two ago I read an article describing a similar (and even more ironic, if such a thing be possible) longing in Germany, in connection with an article about the opening of the new Jewish Museum there.
The museum is apparently the most well-attended museum in the country. And I also recall a story—perhaps apocryphal, since I can’t find any links for it—that there was a conference a few decades ago in Germany on its population’s lack of a sense of humor, and the conclusion was that the country destroyed all its comedians when it murdered its Jews—an example of the law of unintended consequences, no doubt.
It all puts me in mind of some of the lyrics to the Joni Mitchell song “Big Yellow Taxi:”
They took all the trees
Put em in a tree museum
And they charged the people
A dollar and a half just to see em
Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
Till its gone…
But Poland itself has a mixed history regarding the Jews (as does Germany, by the way). Why were so many there in the first place? Because Poland was originally one of the most welcoming and tolerant nations in Europe for the Jews. The history of Poland’s long and relatively intimate relationship with its Jewish population includes a golden age in which the Jewish community there flourished.
Poland is a country with a past that includes multiple and lengthy occupations by foreign powers. Russian, German, and Austrian-Hungarian influences dominated the nineteenth century there, and anti-Semitism and violence against Jews increased during their reigns. Then the Nazi occupation, of course, resulted in the effective destruction of Polish Jewry, and the Communist takeover that followed drove the remainder away, leaving Poland essentially Judenfrei.
But “Judenfrei” is a German word; the Poles themselves had a much more complex relationship than that with their Jewish citizens. And in fact, although many Poles participated in the Holocaust with an attitude of enthusiastic cooperation, Poland was also home to a large number of what Israel calls “Righteous Gentiles,” those who risked their lives to save Jews.
Their varied motivations are delineated in a remarkable book entitled When Light Pierced the Darkness, by Nechama Tec. Some did it for money, some out of political or religious conviction, and some for personal reasons related to the good relations they had previously enjoyed with their Jewish neighbors and friends.
When I write that these people risked their lives, I don’t think the phrase conveys exactly what that meant. But I’ll add an anecdote that might illustrate the situation more graphically (unfortunately, I can’t find a link to it, nor can I recall the source). When the Nazis entered a Polish village and caught someone who had sheltered or aided Jews, they called a meeting of the town. It was compulsory to attend, and villagers were treated to a spectacle guaranteed to discourage further such assistance: a public execution of the offender and his or her family and relatives, including the children.
Effective, no? I would challenge all of you to ask yourselves how brave and noble you would have been in the face of such a threat; I’m by no means absolutely certain of my own answer.
And yet, even under such circumstances, quite a few Poles considered it their duty to help the Jews who had been part of the fabric of their lives. This is not to whitewash the Polish history during the Holocaust. As I said, there were many enthusiastic participants, and it wasn’t just Nazi coercion that caused this behavior. One of the saddest and most horrific chapters of Polish-Jewish history were the killings that occurred after the war, when some Jewish-Polish Holocaust survivors who had somehow managed to return home were murdered by their former neighbors in a pogrom sparked by that standby of anti-Semitism, the blood libel.
In the Poland of today, the Judeophiles are mostly the young, people who are finally becoming free of both the country’s Nazi past and the Communist yoke that followed it. As such, they may represent the original Polish spirit of tolerance that flourished in most of the early years of the Jewish presence there.
It is deeply ironic, of course, that this is only happening in the absence of the Jews of Poland, like a sort of museum diorama in tribute to the vanished passenger pigeon. But nevertheless, it is to be welcomed.
