My z Jedwabnego to efekt pasji i ogromnej pracy, godzin badań archiwalnych, dziesiątek rozmów ze świadkami, rozplątywania wątków w poszukiwaniu prawdy o tragicznych wydarzeniach z lipca 1941 roku, które rozegrały się w małym miasteczku pod Łomżą. Anna Bikont poświęciła cztery lata na wydobycie z niepamięci faktów, którym dziś, między innymi dzięki tej książce, już nikt nie odważy się zaprzeczyć. My z Jedwabnego, część wielkiej dyskusji o zachowaniu pamięci, została wyróżniona prestiżową nagrodą European Book Prize.
Anna Bikont (born 17 July 1954) is a psychologist and writer associated with the Gazeta Wyborcza newspaper since its inception in 1989. Her book 'Le Crime et le Silence' won the European Book Prize in 2011.
Bikont was born in Warsaw. Anna Bikont got her MA in Psychology in the Warsaw University, and worked there until 1988. Between 1982 and 1989 She was an underground Solidarity activist; co-founder and editor of Tygodnik Mazowsze weekly, Poland's largest underground publication. She was a co-founder of Gazeta Wyborcza works as journalist for the Gazeta Wyborcza where she still works today as senior journalist.
In 2011, 'Le crime et le silence' the French edition of her 2004 non-fiction book My z Jedwabnego won the European Book Prize.
Between global histories of the Holocaust and individual biographies of those caught up in it lies this: a story of the story to uncover the facts of the massacre of a Polish Jewish village by its neighbours during WW II. Local involvement, even leadership, of the killing cannot be denied. Yet today's residents vehemently resist recognition of the roles their parents and grandparents played. Nor will they permit investigation of events that they simply prefer forgotten.
Bikont is an absolutely compelling writer, inter-weaving the history of the massacre with the story of the continuing cover-up. Among other things she demonstrates how anti-Semitism remains a particularly Polish problem. The complicity of the Polish Catholic Church in the Holocaust, its aftermath, and its historical obfuscation is especially troubling.
As recent events throughout Europe have shown, anti-Semitism is not only a matter of history, it remains a powerful force that needs only the slightest stimulus to be unleashed.
My father was born a short distance from Krakow in 1913 when Poland was still part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and fortunately was able to immigrate to the United States in the mid-1930s, though many of our extended family would eventually perish in Auschwitz. Growing up my father would tell me stories about what it was like to live among Polish Catholics in his village and the abuse that he endured. Years later I read the book NEIGHBOR: THE DESTRUCTION OF THE JEWISH COMMUNITY IN JEDWABNE, POLAND by Jan Tomasz Gross in 2002 that described the pogrom committed by Polish Catholics against the Jews of Jedwabne on July 10, 1941 and was shocked, but not surprised. The outcry against the book when it was published in Poland arguing that it was the Gestapo or other components of the German army that was responsible was to be expected. With the publication of Anna Bikont’s haunting history, THE CRIME AND THE SILENCE: CONFRONTING THE MASSACRE OF JEWS IN WARTIME JEDWABNE in 2004, recently translated into English by Alissa Valles, the Polish people once again must face the historical reality of the actions of many of their co-religionists and not resort to the standard denials shifting blame to the Nazis.
Bikont a journalist for the Gazeta Wyborcza has written a book that is part history and part memoir as she assiduously gathered oral histories of events that took place in Poland during the war. The narrative adds to Gross’ work and the reader learns immediately that Jedwabne was not the only pogrom that Polish Catholics engaged in. In fact three days before the massacre at Jedwabne, in a village close by, the entire Jewish population of Radzilow was rounded up and burned, with no Germans present. As we read on there are numerous examples of the liquidation of Jews with the assistance of the Poles, or were conducted solely by the Poles.
Bikont’s approach is to alternate chapters detailing her investigation through research in the Bialystok region, Canada, the United States, Israel, Argentina, and Europe or wherever her research took her, as she conducted interviews of individuals who lived in the area during the massacre with chapters dealing with the overall history of the area in the 1930s and 1940s. The author does a good job chronicling the deterioration of the plight of the Jews in the 1930s, a period that began with Jews trying to be good Polish citizens despite the increasing level of anti-Semitism that would continue to manifest itself throughout the decade. The arrival of Hitler in power in Germany in 1933, in part provided an opportunity for “the Camp for Greater Poland,” the National Party, and Catholic prelates to egg on the peasant population to perpetrate a pogrom in Radzilow in March of that year. Marching to the slogan “We raise our plea before your alter/Lord, rid Poland of the Jews,” the peasant population that was suffering from the depression could focus its hostility on the Jews. Throughout the 1930s the Catholic press did its best to instigate and heighten Polish hatred of Jews and encouraged acts of violence that by the summer of 1937, 65-70 acts of violence against Jews were reported monthly to the Interior Ministry. This on top of parliamentary action against Jewish religious practices and education made Jews very wary of remaining in Poland. As the Zionist movement expanded many families hoped to at the very least send some of their children to Palestine. By September 1, 1939 with the Nazi invasion of Poland that avenue of escape was severed.
Bikont makes extensive use of archival material that support her thesis as to the role of the Poles in making the lives of Jews one of misery and death, during the prewar period and during the war itself. Her use of the Jewish Historical Institute and Jewish Historical Commission archives produces microfiche of Holocaust survivor testimony reflecting that not only were their pogroms in Radzilow on July 7, Jedwabne on July 10, but also in Wasosz on July 5. For Szymon Datner, a renowned historian what happened at Wasosz rivaled the slaughter that took place in Kishinev in 1903 Czarist Russia. Datner also documents the murder of Jews in 1945 as they came out of hiding by Polish peasants. Bikont’s journal entries for the first six months of 2001 are especially important as the 60th anniversary of the Jedwabne murders approaches. She is confronted with outright denial or refusal to speak with her by individuals who were present in 1941. Further, even Jews who survived are apprehensive to speak with her because they have either hidden the fact that they are Jewish, even from family members, or are just afraid of the repercussions. One of the dominant excuses that is offered is that once the Soviet Union invaded Poland the Jews collaborated with the NKVD and turned Polish citizen’s names over to Russian authorities causing them to be sent into exile in Siberia. Another argument is that it is being raised now, if it actually happened, so the Jews could collect billions in reparations from the Polish government. This line of thought is seen as justification for burning 1600 human beings in a barn, and shooting another 42 in the market place area.
One of the more interesting chapters concentrates on the three Laudanski brothers, two of which were convicted of murder for the events of July 7, 1941 and their rationale that they too suffered under Soviet and German occupation. The third Laudanski brother, Kazimierz claims to have not been in Jedwabne on the day of the massacre and arrived three days later, though there is some evidence he was actually present. Of the ten men convicted in the 1949 trial for the murders in Jedwabne, Zygmunt and Jerzy Laudanski, as of the publication of Bikont’s book in 2004, were still alive. From all accounts and by their own admission they forced hundreds of Jews into the market place and then led them to the barn were they were burned alive. There is also testimony that they beat and killed Jews while coercing them to reach the market place. For their crimes Zygmunt Laudanski was sentenced to twelve years in prison of which he served six, and his brother Jerzy was sentenced to fifteen years, and served eight. From her interviews with the brothers, Bikont points out that they blamed the deportation of the Poles, including their family members under Soviet occupation on Jewish communists. Among their comments Zygmunt Laudanski states, “there was nothing as horrible as all that. People are making it up now in revenge.” Kazimierz Laudanksi comments, “Like all of the Polish people, we suffered under the Soviets, under the Germans, and under People’s Poland…Our people organized the roundup of the Jews, but didn’t take part in the burning, they behaved as peaceful people.” The Poles kept saying, “It’s God’s punishment. It was a diabolical stunt organized by the Germans. The Germans directed it, and used the Poles like actors in the theater. But Poles wanting to burn Jews, there was nothing like that.” (119)
The remembrance monument for the massacre is another controversial issue for the people of Jedwabne. The monument that commemorates the events of July 10, 1941 states, “Place of Execution of Jewish Population. Gestapo and Hitler’s Police Buried 1600 People Alive July 10, 1941.” Which of course is not accurate. Bikont’s journal entries from 2001 reflect the animosity as the inscription is about to be changed as the 60th anniversary of the massacre approaches. Jedwabne residents are upset that their town cannot escape the stigma of the massacre and resent journalists revisiting what they see as “ancient” history and the calls for a more accurate inscription. These feelings are manifested by certain political and religious figures statements denigrating the monument and the impact it has on their lives. One of the most distressing aspects of the book is Bikont’s exploration of the debate in the Jedwabne town council over the plans for the ceremony at the monument commemorating the massacre. A majority of the council members refused to approve funding for the road that provided access to the Jewish cemetery for the ceremony. What remains quite clear that Polish anti-Semitism remains very pervasive as of Bikont’s writing and many sections of the Polish population cannot overcome their hatred and view of history no matter what evidence is presented i.e., the creation of the “Committee to Defend the Good Name of Jedwabne,” dominated by the families of those convicted, and those who have taken over the homes of Jews in the town, or have seized Jewish property. As Mayor Krzysztof Godlewski, later forced to resign because of his support of the new inscription and his assistance to Bikont during her research, tries to bring the council together he is met with repeated denial and virulent anti-Semitism.
The most important question that needs to be asked is why did the massacre take place? For Bikont the immediate fuse that set off the events on July 10 was the Soviet occupation, which led to the charge of Jewish collaboration. The Soviet occupation was equally difficult for Jews and Poles alike. The Jewish social fabric and community life was destroyed by the Soviets, but the Jews did greet the Russians in a better frame of mind than the Poles. The reason is obvious, the Poles with their virulent anti-Semitism and violence against Jews were now blocked by the occupation. For the Poles it must have been humiliating to lose control of their own country and government and witness Jews having an element of freedom. With the deportations of Poles as well as Jews it is much more convenient “to replace reality with a stereotype like ‘the Jews collaborated,’ all the more so if you know those who might have corrected this misconception had perished.” The new situation in which “the ‘kikes’ were given relative equality in civil law must have been a provocation to those neighbors raised on prewar anti-Semitism.” (179) As far as the charge that Jews were involved in selecting who was to be deported, it is another Polish fantasy. Bikont’s research points to three great deportations. The first on February 9-10, 1940 resulted in taking away members of the Polish military, foresters, and other specific occupations. The second wave in April, 1940 targeted families of those previously arrested: police officers, senior officials, political leaders and the local intelligentsia. The third wave in June, 1940 involved “refugees” who fled the General Government, 80% of which were Jews. The fourth wave that came in June, 1941 targeting the Polish underground partisan movement. Since Jews were not generally accepted as partisans, to blame them is beyond the scope of reality. Bikont, and Gross before her, clearly debunk the myth of Jewish denunciations as the cause of Polish deportation no matter how often Catholic prelates and Polish politicians repeat the charge. Once the Germans invaded the remainder of Poland on June 22, 1941 and continued on into the Soviet Union, the Poles responded with numerous pogroms against the remaining Jews, one of which was Jedwabne.
Bikont spends a great deal of time exploring the role of the Catholic Church in creating the environment for the massacre to take place, but also facilitating the pogroms that resulted. She provides numerous examples of the statements and actions of Catholic prelates who disregarded the statements of the Vatican, particularly after the war. The prelates continue the rationalization that the Jews deserved what they got because they denounced the Poles. Bikont believed that the Church had reached a turning point in 1945 as it became the bastion against Sovietization of Polish society. However those anti-Semitic feelings did not remain in the background for long as the deaconry in Jedwabne headed by Father Antoni Roszkowski continued spewing his hatred of the Jews. Since 1988, Father Edward Orlowski held sway in Jedwabne and he carried on as if nothing had changed as far as Jewish guilt was concerned. It is interesting to note that once the ceremony took place on July 10, 2001 no high level church representatives attended, though to their credit three priests do make an appearance. For Jews, the fear of retribution was so high that only Awigdor Korchaw, the only Jewish witness who was in the market square the day of the massacre, had the courage to attend.
To Bikont’s credit as she tells the stories of the few Jewish survivors, she integrates their horrific accounts with those Poles who helped by hiding them or facilitating their escape. Bikont follows her subjects around the globe in her quest to learn the truth and find out what happened to these people once the war ended. Her description of the lives of Szmul Wasersztejn, the most important witness to events; Chaja Finkelsztejn, whose unpublished memoir of survival provides a window into the inhumanity of the people who committed the atrocities; Antonina Wyrzykowska, who hid seven Jews; and the author’s constant interaction with Radoslaw Ignatiew, the prosecutor of the Institute of National Remembrance leads one to accept Gross’s earlier finding that, the Poles were the instigators of the massacre and carried out the atrocities associated with it. Her journal continues until July 10, 2004 and her final chapter has the fitting title, “Strictly speaking, Poles did it.” One of the most heart rendering phrases in the book points to the post-war Polish generation when Bikont states, “the blood on the father’s hands burn the children,” which may explain why so many Poles today still have difficulty coming to terms with what happened almost 75 years ago in a country whose 2003 census listed 1100 Jews, out of a pre-World War II census of around 3.3 million.
O Jedwabnem słyszał każdy. Swego czasu śledziłam wszystko, co było związane z wychodzeniem tej zbrodni na światło dzienne. Minęły lata, w jakiś sposób przepracowałam (o ile to możliwe) horror tego wszystkiego. Książki Grossa nie czytałam, i chyba nadal się boję. Ale książka Anny Bikont (wspaniałe, niezastąpione, wyczerpujące i obszerne dzieło, nad którym pracowała latami i które zawiera setki i setki rozmów, wywiadów, map, zdjęć i innych materiałów dokumentujących życie Jedwabnego od czasów długo przedwojennych, do dziś) otworzyła mi oczy na wiele różnych aspektów, o których albo nie miałam pojęcia, albo się w nie nie wgłębiałam. Albo się oszukiwałam? Całkiem możliwe, iż pewne zjawiska, które uważałam za pewnik (np. to że antysemityzm był zawsze, owszem, ale Żydzi i Polacy tak sobie przecież pięknie i przyjacielsko żyli obok siebie w tych magicznych miasteczkach, tworząc wielobarwną kulturę - sielskie opowieści Singera zrobiły tu swoje) mogą być mitem. Mitem który współtworzyli - z różnych względów - i Polacy, i Polacy żydowskiego pochodzenia.
Jedwabne nie było pojedynczym wypadkiem, pogromy na polskich ziemiach, dokonywane polskimi rękami, zdarzały się od setek lat tak często, że stały się wręcz "elementem folkloru". Np. dwa tygodnie przed Jedwabnem Polacy wybili Żydów w pobliskim Radziłowie. Kościół Katolicki szerzył nienawistny antysemityzm jeszcze długo przed wojną i Hitlerem. Polacy masowo bogacili się na swoich mordowanych sąsiadach, w najbardziej prymitywny sposób. Podziemie zbrojne (w tym AK) brało udział w tych mordach. Wielu Żydów cudem przetrwało wojnę i Holocaust, by potem zginąć z rąk polskich sąsiadów. Dziś, w XXI wieku, antysemityzm w samym Jedwabnem jest tak potężny, że ta garstka mieszkańców, która nie neguje zbrodni i stodoły, jest zaszczuwana przez resztę, niektórzy się po prostu wyprowadzili. Dziś, w 2021, w 80. rocznicę pogromu, władze kraju nie pojawiły się na jej obchodach. Zresztą władze mają teraz nowych Żydów - tych spod tęczowej flagi. "Żyd" ciągle jest tutaj brzydkim słowem. Polska to plugawe, straszne miejsce. Hitler nie mógł lepiej trafić.
Patrząc na to wszystko okiem psychoanalitycznym, dochodzę do wniosku, że każda nieprzepracowana trauma będzie zbierała żniwa w nieskończoność. To co się stało w Jedwabnem jest makabryczne i doskonale rozumiem ten mechanizm zaprzeczania. Mechanizm obrony i odwracania kota ogonem (zaatakujmy, zanim zaatakują nas i wyjawią wszystko). Poza zwykłym ludzkim plugastwem, działają tu też inne czynniki. Mieszkańcy Jedwabnego (czytaj: w ogóle mieszkańcy Polski) musieliby przyznać, że oni, ich przodkowie, członkowie ich rodzin, przyjaciele i sąsiedzi zagnali setki niewinnych ludzi, swoich sąsiadów, swoich piekarzy, krawców, nauczycieli - młodych, starych, dzieci i malutkie dzieci - do stodoły, i spalili ich żywcem. A potem zamieszkali w ich domach, nosili ich futra i spali pod ich kołdrami. Takie coś, chyba nawet w najmniejszym, najmniej moralnym człowieku, musi pozostawić trwały ślad. Coś musiałoby ten ślad zatrzeć, potrzebne jest zbiorowe wyznanie grzechu, zbiorowe oczyszczenie. Niemcy poradzili sobie ze swoją traumą i grzechem, poszli dalej. My stoimy w miejscu, i tak stać będziemy, dopóki rządzą u nas ci, co rządzą - plus Kościół. Bo to musi przyjść z góry.
Najsmutniejsza i najokrutniejsza refleksja, jaka mnie naszła po tej lekturze - ja w ogóle się dziwię i jestem pod wrażeniem, że jakikolwiek Żyd chce jeszcze mieszkać w tym kraju.
The Crime and The Silence – Will The Truth Ever Be Acknowledged?
Anna Bikont is a Jewish journalist based in Warsaw and has written about her attempts to look at one of Poland’s darkest and most shameful events. This was an event that for many years was denied that ever took place, when it has been an open festering sore, especially to those who survived. The murder of Jews in Jedwabne until recently was not even acknowledged by the Polish government, it now is.
My Polish Grandfather was a soldier in the Polish Army in 1939 and was on the Western Front fighting in the defence of Poland; his family lived out in the eastern borderlands from Lwow (Lviv in Ukraine today) to the border of Poland and Soviet Ukraine. He was captured by the Nazis and escaped to fight on in France before coming to the UK. He felt betrayed by the Soviets when on 17th September 1939 they crossed the border and assisted their Nazi allies in crushing Poland.
From the start of the Soviet occupation there were Poles who collaborated with the invaders, some were Jews, some were Poles, and some were even Austrian! The Soviets set about destroying the middle and upper classes of Poland, by killing Police and Army officers at Katyn (happened to some of my family) others were transported to Siberia (happened to my Great Grandmother and other family members). It would be easy to say it was just Poles that the Soviets transported, but to counter that argument, as an example, Menachem Begin and his family were also transported as they were middle class.
The Soviet Union removed all those who were leaders of Polish society and administrators were removed. This in turn helped to lay the foundations for what happened under the Nazi invaders from 1941. In Black Earth, Timothy Snyder successfully argues that the Soviets lay the conditions for the Holocaust to occur in Poland by turning the whole area into a lawless ‘wild east’. So it was easy to play to prejudices of the time, as Jews were, unfairly, seen as pro-communist, pro-Soviet, and anti-Poland.
As a child my Grandfather rarely mentioned much about the war, as he lost his family, his home now occupied by Ukrainians, on land that was Polish for 1946 years. I remember that he once talked about a shameful event that happened in the war in 1941, a crime committed by Poles on Jews, when they burnt Jewish families in a barn. He did say it was encouraged by the SS and Gestapo, and there is evidence they were active in the area at the time. Whether there is evidence they were there is a different matter as no evidence has ever been presented to say they were.
With many of the leaders no longer in Jedwabne to be able counsel restraint those left behind would have seen some Jews succeeding under the Soviets and collaborating and blame them for it. The Poles committed the crime of rounding up those Jews in the barn, they committed the crime of lighting the fire that killed them and throwing those back that tried to escape.
Anna Bikont in The Crime and The Silence examines this open sore, and found that even today people referred to the place where the Jews were burnt. They can also point out the families that committed those crimes, whether it was her father or grandfather. This is an examination of collective memory which can be painful reading at times.
This is a matter that still needs to be investigated properly but books such as The Crime and The Silence are pointing out the uncomfortable truths and asking difficult questions which are required. I could point out that there is not enough evidence based historical analysis and a lot of the journalist comes through in the book, but then it is part memoir. This is an excellent addition to the Holocaust library, like Jan Gross before her, not the best, but it is a start on this painful subject. Will Poles ever honestly acknowledge what happened at Jedwabne, this book is a first step at asking that question.
Znając historie Jedwabnego, Radziłowa, Szczuczyna, Wąsosza i podobnych im podlaskich miejscowości z innych publikacji i źródeł, równie wielkie wrażenie, co sam reportaż zrobił na mnie dziennik autorki, którym przeplatane są kolejne reporterskie rozdziały. Dzięki niemu można cofnąć się w czasie do początku XXI wieku i zrozumieć jak wielkim wyzwaniem musiało być napisanie takiej książki po Sąsiadach Grossa - w zasadzie w ostatniej chwili przed śmiercią tych kilku żyjących wciąż ofiar i świadków.
We are often taught that when a mistake is made we must acknowledge it and work to make things right. Yet in the town of Jedwabne, Poland, this is not the case. Rather, the brutal mass murder of the village's Jews was swept under the rug. Anna Bikont does a tremendous job investigating who died, who survived, and which individuals perpetrated the gruesome murders. She also digs in to the reasons why so many in the village are reticent, even today, to discuss what happened. Her many interviews offer insight to the 'causes' of such a catastrophe, what leads evil to take over an entire town, and how the Catholic church works and worked to perpetuate the rampant antisemitism in that area of Poland.
This is a horribly disturbing book but also such an important one. One cannot acknowledge another's apology if it is not forthcoming.
*** I have a collection of quotes from the book if anyone is interested in using them for bookclub discussion ***
Ta książka mnie dosłownie przeorała. Odchoruję ją, już ją odchorowuje. Nie z powodu opisanej zagłady, która sama w sobie już może być powodem do odchorowania, ale ze względu na współczesność. I na ludzi, którzy negują, nienawidzą, gardłują się. Gloryfikowanych przestępców i sprawiedliwych, którzy muszą się ukrywać.
Anna Bikont wykonała tytaniczną pracę, żmudną, niewdzięczną, wyczerpującą emocjonalnie. Reporterka opisuje dzień po dniu, jak trafiła na temat, stopniowo się do niego zbliżała, odkrywała prawdę, rozmawiała, podróżowała, czytała, dzwoniła, wplatając informacje o odkrywaniu własnej tożsamości.
A brilliant and terrifying book, it's disappointing it took 11 years to be translated (very ably) into English and published in the US. Anna Bikont not only handles the organization of the book in a very effective manner, alternating between the diary of her investigation and individual stories, she brings together a wide array of sources to give a portrait of a Poland I don't think many Americans know about - a Poland still infected to this day with endemic antisemitism, including in the highest ranks of the Catholic Church. Her ending the book with an interview with the official prosecutor is an excellent final touch, as we can compare his legal views with her more emotional investigation.
There is a lot that the 1941 Jedwabne massacre can teach us today - in particular in the United States where the right wing currently is preaching thinly-veiled eliminationism against everyone it opposes. This is a warning of how that worked out in wartime Poland. Let's not let it become a prophecy. Vital reading, and particularly at this time.
I read this in the newly published Swedish translation. i loved this book and I am very glad I got hold of a copy. It left a deep soar of sadness realizing these were actual people doing this to other people. The book described the author's work in a very detailed manner which I enjoyed, however it got a bit monotonous at times, due to the journal- format of it. The pictures of the victims made the scenery a whole lot more real and it helps you realize the severeness of the crimes committed.
"There were a lot of killings after the war, people were scared of visitors at night, afraid they'd come, smash things up, steal things, murder you. Father said you had to have a good sense of who was coming; they came at night and asked,'Who do you support?' If they were National Armed Forces, and you said you supported the Home Army, they could kill you. The National Armed Forces were fighting, but only to rape women and rob their husbands. It would help not only if Poles apologized to Jews, but if Poles apologized to Poles for everything that was looted in these lands.
"It's a certain kind of people here. Whatever bad happens, it turns out the Jews are to blame. I've been hearing it from the day I was born. Whether it's bad government, or bad weather, or a cow dies, it's always a Jew who's to blame. Dad had money because he was a good provider and he saved, Mama would get up at night to gather strawberries to take them to sell in the morning. When I got home from school I'd go to the neighbors and cut wood for them for a zloty, or pick black currants for them, and the money I made I gave to my dad. It's interesting that they always envied us our money, never our hard work. They said, 'The Dziedzic family have Jewish money.' Anyone who's got money is either a Jew or he got it from a Jew. I got Jewish money, as they say here, once in my life: a hundred dollars from Szmul for my son. People here live on the pensions of their parents who handed on their farms. There's a saying: 'Lord, give me a family with four pensioners and one cow.' Cows take some work, whereas pensions just flow into your pocket.
"For ages I asked my father about the massacre, but he was evasive. He'd say it was better to keep very quiet about all that. Sometimes he would sit on the porch for a bit and cry, and the family would say, 'Papa's remembering the Jews.'
"There's a lot of hate around here now. It seems God has given us all the talk about Jews to try us. There's no other subject of conversation -- whether you're in the hospital or in a government office. I went to Lomza to put an ad in the paper, I have silage for sale -- Jews is the only thing people wanted to talk about. I heard from one guy, not even the dumbest in town, that the pope is a Jew. I responded, 'It's not for nothing they wear yarmulkes from the bishop upward.' I'm in a store, the owner's mother comes in and says, 'We should kick out all those Jews coming here for interviews.'
"I've been trying to piece together conversations I overheard by chance. My grandmother couldn't forgive her son for marrying into 'a family like that' after the war. I couldn't tell you at what point I realized she called it 'a family like that' because Uncle Klemens's wife's father and brother had a hand in the destruction of Jews.
"When someone tells me the Germans did it, I ask them, 'And when a Jew was lying by the fence, clubbed to death, was it a German who did that, too?' When they talk about the deportations, I can't even bring myself to say again that Poles denounced people, too. I just ask, 'And what had the children done wrong?'
"I passed a neighbor on the road whose uncle was once of the killers. He recognized my car and said, 'I feel like throwing up.' Then he spat. But I was never afraid of anything. That's why I can talk plainly in Jedwabne about what the Poles did to the Jews.
"There are names that come back all the time. The Laudanskis first, lame Stanislaw Sielawa, he was terrible, and then there was Mariak, Genek Kalinowski, who was killed right after the war, Czeslaw Mierzejewski, Jozef Kobrzyniecki, Sobuta, Trzaska, Piechowski, Marian Zyluk, Boleslaw Ramotowski the glassmaker, a drunk who beat his horse and his father with the same stick, Wladyslaw Luba, the one who inherited his blacksmith's tools from the Jews he drowned. It's hard to hide, many people saw them killing. Jews didn't only die in the barn, there were private reckonings with Jews in ponds, in their own courtyards. The killers had learned their trades from them and now they wanted to take over their workshops.
"The truth will never be buried entirely. A time will come when even stones will speak. I often think, It would be enough if in Jedwabne and in every village in the area there were one person with the courage to tell the story to his children. And if the next generation had at least one child who passed it on when it grew up. And so the truth will live."
La Pologne entretient avec son histoire un rapport paradoxal. D’un côté, le secret longtemps occulté de l’identité des bourreaux de Katyn nourrit sa méfiance atavique à l’égard du voisin russe. De l’autre, la Pologne assume avec difficulté son passé antisémite. Durant l’été 1941, après le déclenchement de l’opération Barbarossa, les populations juives de la Pologne orientale furent victimes de pogroms meurtriers. Le 10 juillet 1941, la quasi-totalité de la population juive du petit village de Jedwabne, en Mazurie, fut brûlée vive. La thèse officielle a longtemps tenu responsables les seules troupes allemandes. Dans un livre paru en 2001 (traduction française : « Les Voisins, 10 juillet 1941, un massacre de Juifs en Pologne », Fayard, 2002), l’historien américain d’origine polonaise Jan T. Gross a soutenu que le rôle des Allemands dans le pogrom de Jedwabne était marginal et que la population polonaise était bel et bien responsable. La thèse de Jan Gross a provoqué un débat très vif en Pologne, caractéristique d’une sorte de « Katyn à l’envers ». Si la révélation de l’identité des assassins de Katyn avait exalté le sentiment national polonais autour du souvenir glorifié de ses officiers tombés sous les balles soviétiques, la révélation de celle des antisémites de Jedwadne l’a au contraire fragilisé, obligeant la Pologne et les Polonais à se confronter à un « passé qui ne passe pas ». Témoin engagé de ces polémiques, Anna Bikont, journaliste à Gazeta Wyborcza, a tenu un journal des années 2000-2003. Écrit à la première personne, ce journal narre sa quête obsessionnelle des derniers témoins qu’elle traque en Israël, aux États-Unis et jusqu’au Costa Rica. Elle rencontre des rescapés qui, au soir de leur vie, se délivrent d’un trop lourd secret, des bourreaux qui crânement continuer à nier, mais aussi quelques Justes, peu nombreux, qui renâclent à témoigner de peur des représailles de leurs voisins antisémites. Les pages de son journal alternent avec des chapitres plus historiques où elle retrace l’enchaînement des faits. Des faits qu’une enquête exhaustive de l’Institut de la mémoire nationale (IPN) permettent désormais de reconstituer de façon quasi-certaine. La démarche n’est pas sans rappeler « Les disparus » (Flammarion, 2007), cette exceptionnelle enquête où Daniel Mendelsohn partait à la recherche de ses origines juives dans cette même région de Pologne. Hélas, trop long, mal traduit, le livre de Anna Bikont n’atteint jamais la finesse de celui de Mendelsohn. Il n’en fait pas moins froid dans le dos par ce qu’il révèle de l’antisémitisme, toujours vivace, qui prévaut dans ces marches défavorisées de la Pologne orientale. Certes, le président Kwasniewski a participé aux commémorations du 10 juillet 2001 et y a présenté les excuses du peuple polonais. Mais l’Eglise catholique, qui encouragea dans les années 30 le programme antisémite de la Ligue nationale de Roman Dmowski, a cultivé l’ambiguïté. Plus inquiétant encore, Anna Bikont montre l’hostilité vénéneuse que ce geste suscite dans le village de Jedwadne où le maire courageux, qui avait accepté cette démarche repentante, est désavoué par ses concitoyens. Et dans la postface rédigée à l’été 2010, elle estime que si le pays a évolué, « à Jedwadne (…) rien n’a changé » ./.
"You could hear the screaming two kilometers away"
On July 10, 1941 fourteen hundred Jews from Jebwabne, Poland were rounded up into a barn and set on fire. Who exactly gave the orders for this massacre? Many Poles living in the area claim it was the Germans but this book argues that it was the Poles who killed their own neighbors. It is a community secret that continues to haunt this town to this very day. Through her perseverance and bravery Anna Bikont spent several years researching extensively to come to terms with the question of what drove the Poles to this vicious act and how people are still afraid to speak about it. It is a horrific tale of wartime atrocities that continue to polarize an entire country 70 years later and delves deep into the core of antisemitism in this region of Poland. Why only 3 stars? This is a very dense book with a plethora of Polish names being thrown about and it was difficult to keep track of the perpetrators, eyewitnesses, and victims. For a casual reader of Holocaust literature I believe this could have been pared down a couple hundred pages without losing any of the valuable context but nonetheless it is an important book.
Dieses Verbrechen macht fassungslos und ist umso erschreckender, da die Täter nicht aus den Reihen der Nationalsozialisten stammten, sondern es Nachbarn, Freunde, Bekannte der jüdischen Menschen waren, die, zum Teil mit Begeisterung und Eifer, die Morde begingen. Ebenso verstörend ist der radikale Antisemitismus, der, unterstützt und gefördert von der katholischen Kirche, auch heute noch tief in vielen Menschen (nicht nur, aber eben auch) aus Jedwabne und Umgebung verwurzelt ist.
Ich hätte mir allerdings dringend ein Personenregister gewünscht, es fiel mir schwer, den Überblick zu behalten, vor allem weil Anna Bikont in ihren Aufzeichnungen immer wieder abwechselnd Vor- und Nachnamen ihrer Gesprächspartner nutzt.
This is a brilliantly and meticulously researched book about the "forgotten" massacre of Jews in Jedwabne, Poland, on July 10, 1941. I had never realized how virulently antisemitic Poland was, and appears still to be. I took 36 pages of notes on my Nook for this book, far more than any book I've read.
The author, Anna Bikont, is a Polish Jew who decides to assiduously research the burning of hundreds of Jedwabne Jews in a barn at the outskirts of town. Some 40 Polish thugs rousted all the Jews of the city out of their houses and forced them to march to the town square, from where they then chased them all into a barn and set it on fire, killing all of them (shooting or beating to death those few who escaped). The story of this has been so suppressed in Poland (where some people thought the Pope was a Jew) that the narrative had become a story of Nazis forcing townsmen to herd the Jews into the barn. The narrative continues that the Poles had no choice in this. Some Poles insist it never even happened, like Holocaust deniers.
Bikont interviews scores of people that were related to the Jews who perished or hid as well as Poles who witnessed the massacre. Perhaps two Nazis were on the scene; the rest were all townsmen routing their neighbors, looting their houses, and forcing them to die in the burning barn. While the barn was still burning, citizens of Jedwabne rushed to occupy the houses formerly owned by Jews. Virtually no one in Poland today acknowledges that this ever happened, but they turn red when the author brings it up, and those who today live in houses stolen from Jews know at some level their complicity in the matter.
Evidently Poland, or at least this rural part of the northeast of the country, near the border of present-day Belarus, has hated Jews for centuries, made them sit in the back rows of schoolrooms, regularly threw rocks at them and beat them up. At the same time, they all claimed they had no part in the massacre, and most of them even claimed that they had sheltered Jews during the time. The townspeople have no rational memories of their treatment of Jews. If you are Jewish today in Poland, you are in deep cover with a different name or a convert to the Roman Catholic church.
So antisemitic are the Poles that a national poll in the early 2000's says that only 14 percent of Poles thought mostly Jews were killed in Auschwitz (whereas actually 90 of Auschwitz deaths were Jews). Only 38 percent of Poles think the Jews suffered more during WWII than the Poles did.
This book is full of heart-rending anecdotes that can only be read at intervals because they are so intense and cruel. Families on July 31 that ran to the local priest to be baptized as Christians were turned away. Students who survived the massacre would go to school afterwards and see their classmates dressed in the clothes of Jewish children whose families had been destroyed and whose houses were taken over after the fire.
Stories of Jews on the run changing their hiding places every other night are legion. One group of 12 Jews dug out a small cave under a pigsty. People walked above them not knowing they were there. When one woman of the 12 went into labor in the cave, others had to hold the baby's nose and mouth until it suffocated so that the noise would not give them away. The stories in this book are really hard to read, and the depth of the antisemitism in Poland today is hard to fathom. The author found several doors slammed in her face.
This is a critical book for everyone to read. It is also very harrowing and hard to read except by putting the book down for days at a time or reading another book at the same time. But it is a revelation about Poland in 1941 and today and it's necessary history to be aware of.
Przerażająca, a zarazem przerażająco smutna opowieść o krainie wypaczonej moralności, w której dominuje fanatyzm religijny, prymitywizm, nienawiść, tchórzostwo, zawiść i bezczelność. W której ci, którzy powinni nosić wysoko głowy, ukrywają się po kątach, a ci, których nazwiska winny być wymieniane z pogardą i potępieniem, puszą się niczym pawie i nie mają sobie nic do zarzucenia. W której obwinia się ofiary, a wybiela się sprawców. W której katoliccy duchowni i "polscy patrioci" inspirują ludobójstwo. W której niemal każdy żyje w zaprzeczeniu, a każde kolejne pokolenie powtarza błędy poprzedniego. Chciałoby się powiedzieć: "Jedwabne". Niestety, patrząc na to, co dzieje się wokół, trzeba powiedzieć: "Polska".
This is a very "heavy" book and it is extremely hard to get through, but it is definitely worth it and scary to think about what happened in these towns in Poland, where neighbors attacked neighbors goaded on by the authorities and priests. The book goes back and forth between the author's interviews with survivors as well as her journal of events going on. Well worth it if you can stick it out.
This incident researched this subject exhaustedly. In Jebwabne, Poland, 200 Jews were marched into a barn and then set on fire. Once Germany lost the war, the neighbors in this town denied involvement and blamed it on German officers. Biking refuted this claim entirely and this book is about her research and findings.
Excellent book. It's a tough read, but in my view essential to understanding a troubling aspect of the 20th Century relationship between Christian and Jewish Poles.
God knows, jak ja się namęczyłam z tą książką!! Jest straszna, przerażająca, potworna... Czyta się ja okropnie. A jednocześnie jest tak wspaniała, ważna i przede wszystkim - tak bardzo potrzebna. Ogrom pracy i profesjonalizmu, jakie włożyła w nią autorka jest nieprawdopodobny i bardzo imponujący. Chapeau bas! Nie jest to książka, którą powinno się czytać do poduszki, ale jest to pozycja, którą (z czasem i odpowiednim dawkowaniem), powinni przeczytać wszyscy - do tej smutnej refleksji prowadzi mnie to, co się obecnie dzieje w Polsce i trochę też na świecie. Niestety.
A reviewer of fiction and nonfiction about Judaism, World War II, and the Holocaust, would rarely be shocked or frightened by a book. European Jews have been the object of scorn and animosity for centuries’ however, Anna Bikont’s masterpiece, The Crime and the Silence, fills one with apprehension. One is prepared for the brutality and horror from the past. But one is not prepared for the same level of detestation toward Jews in contemporary Poland. This is almost more frightening than the genocide nearly 75 years ago.
On July 10, 1941, the Jewish residents of Jedwabne Poland, numbering at least a thousand, were captured, humiliated, brutalized, tortured, raped, beaten, and herded into a barn by Christian Poles. The doors were locked. Gasoline was poured over the barn, and it was set on fire. Hundreds of Jewish families were burned to death in the conflagration. The very same death awaited the Jews of nearby Radzilow. Almost immediately, Poles looted and occupied the Jews’ dwellings and businesses.
Polish residents claim that the genocide is at the hands of German armed forces, not Poles. A handful of Jews who hid from the tragedy survived, as did a few who had converted to Christianity. They repeat that the massacre at Jedwabne was committed by Poles, not by Germans. Eventually, after a 1949 trial, the highest levels of Polish government agree that it was Poles who committed the atrocity and they later apologize for it publicly.
To understand the crime at Jedwabne, Anna Bikont accesses oral testimonies and she travels the world to interview Jewish survivors and their progeny. She conducts interviews with additional witnesses and their children, with perpetrators and their progeny, and with righteous gentiles. Almost to a person, the same hatred, mistrust, and rage that existed decades ago toward Jews remains within the fabric of contemporary social life in Jedwabne.
The Crime and the Silence is at once haunting, engaging, and revealing. Part memoir, part historical account, this amazing book chronicles the events leading up to and during that fateful day in 1941 when Christian residents of Jedwabne set fire to every Jew that they could find, including women and children. And while there is disagreement about the actual number of Jews burned to death, there is no possibility that it was at the hands of Germans or Einsatzgruppen, who were not in or near Jedwabne at the time of the massacre.
Anna Bikont’s courageous battle to uncover the truth is an uncommonly powerful journalistic effort. Bikont persists even while her own life is threatened. The townspeople of Jedwabne still deny the bloodthirsty acts of their ancestors. When the president of Poland and a representative of the Vatican arrive at the dedication of a memorial to the slain Jews, no one from town is in attendance. They perpetuate a disturbing lie.
The Catholic Church in Jedwabne spews venom at author Bikont, claiming that Jews deserved to die because some had been informants for the Soviets when Russia occupied the area. That barely handful of Jews collaborated with the Soviets seems irrelevant to the town. Church leaders preach that “Jews must be punished for killing Christ.” The central belief in 1941 and today is that Poland is for Christians, not for Jews, despite the fact that Jews have lived there for centuries and that many thousands perished protecting their beloved nation. The Crime and the Silence is detailed, terrifying, and fascinating. Author Anna Bikont’s effort is heart-rending and humane, a must read for anyone with an interest in history, WWII, culture, and intolerance. She writes with empathy and sensitivity.
Reviewer Charles Weinblatt was born in Toledo, Ohio, in 1952. He is a retired university administrator. Mr. Weinblatt is the author of published fiction and nonfiction, including the popular Holocaust novel, Jacob’s Courage. His biography appears in Wikipedia.
This book is really well-written, informative and extremely necessary. It’s also totally horrifying. The gruesome details do not stop coming – there’s hardly a moment to breathe over the 500+ pages.
The way the book is constructed contributes to the claustrophobia. It alternates between two types of chapters: the present-day (early 2000s) narrative of Bikont chasing down sources and doing archival research, and then the stories of Holocaust survivors set during the 30s and 40s. The fact that the latter is hard to read isn’t too surprising. The vitriol that the author faces while doing her research is harder to swallow.
We’re basically exposed to two levels of violence here. There’s the sadistic, physical violence perpetrated by Polish townspeople in the 30s and 40s, and then the proud, viciously ignorant, rhetorical violence of their descendants and other assorted anti-Semites and Holocaust deniers in the 21st century. It’s a little overwhelming just to read, so it’s understandable that there’s a bitter edge that emerges in Bikont’s writing as the book goes on. She’s not just doing an investigation, she actively wants to prove her harassers wrong.
As the reader, I wanted her to do so too. I can see why, even amongst those who were less explicitly anti-Semitic, there were a lot of complaints about this book (and Jan Gross’ book “Neighbors”) in Poland. It’s not a good look for them. But what these books uncover is important.
Through Bikont’s writing, we learn about an anti-Semitism in Poland that originated centuries before the Holocaust, and flourished in the 1930s in parallel to Hitler’s rise. We learn about the role the Catholic Church played in spreading hate. We learn about the dynamics of the Soviet occupation, and how the specific humiliations and deprivations of occupation and war combined with already existing prejudice to lay the groundwork for atrocity. We learn about how these atrocities got papered over and manipulated afterward when there was no political incentive or will to honestly investigate and hold perpetrators to justice. And we learn how, in the absence of education or economic opportunity, prejudices can fester and strengthen and justify themselves even when they’re entirely irrational and in fact largely disproved by extremely recent events.
So the present-day viciousness isn’t just disturbing, it’s instructive. It teaches us about the current political climate in Poland, and the resurgence of a potentially violent ethnocentrism. And it shows us that the dynamic that created all of that intimate and shocking violence is still present in Poland, even if Jews aren’t anymore.
I bought this book to work to understand why people kill neighbors and what happens afterward. I've no ax to grind - not Polish, not Jewish - just curious. If you can slog through it this book does an adequate job of covering the various causes - greed, culture, religion, ignorance you get the drift. The book does a good job of painting the long term ramifications on the people who come after in terms of guilt and behavior. This book didn't help me understand why this particular part of Poland was exceptionally brutal with the Jews while other parts just didn't get in the Nazi's way. It didn't help me with how widespread extremest views were in Poland and why the Church in S. America welcomed Jews while it preached against them in Poland. The book is overly long and must lose some in translation. There is a lot of Anna knocking on doors and being turned away - a lot of that. It was a worthwhile read I just wish she had a better editor.
This is a harrowing and really worthy read. The most important message to bring from it is "the holocaust is not past tense." The controversy over wartime guilt for atrocities in Poland is very sobering. I had the honor of being the narrator for the upcoming audiobook, and many many times in the recording booth, a sentence would trigger a huge emotional response that the author had been steadily building for pages - and then I would have to stop and use a lot of Kleenex to compose myself so i could continue. This one's a heartbreaker - and also a joy, for it shows us humanity at its absolute best and its worst.
Dwa cytaty: „Ja poczuwam się do odpowiedzialności za Jedwabne, za Radziłów, za to, co jeszcze się okaże.” „Uważamy się za wyjątkowych, przypisujemy sobie moralne zasługi i szczególny wkład w losy świata. Badania wykazują, że ludzie tak myślący szczególnie łatwo akceptują zabijanie niewinnych.”
I jeszcze jeden: „Przepraszam w imieniu swoim i tych Polaków, których sumienie jest poruszone tamtą zbrodnią.”
Nic z nas tej straszliwej hańby nie zmyje, przynajmniej pamięć tym naszym pomordowanym i wypędzonym Rodakom jesteśmy winni.
Another proof of man's inhumanity to man. An exceptional work by the author in words, documents and emotions. I would strongly recommend it to the serious rather on the history of the holocaust.
How do you process a book like this? I don't know. Much of it seems surreal and hard to believe to have happened just two decades ago. But then I read any comment section on an article regarding Romanian involvement in the Holocaust and then I get an idea on how it could happen. This is a book about reckoning, about lack of justice, about murderers roaming free while saviors fear for their lives. Almost no one in this book acts like an outsider would expect them too. While pretty thick, the book ends up feeling suffocating. The style might not be to everyone's liking. It's split into several parts that tell a mostly but not always coherent story out of many, many little pieces that may or may not fall into place. As expected, emotions run high and not everyone has reason to be honest. Some reading between the lines may be necessary. The mystery of what happened in Jedwabne and how neighbors ended up burning neighbors alive remains. And then I wonder: how do you write such a book?
Een brute pogrom en het decennialange zwijgen van een Pools dorpje (en de kerk). Aangrijpende thematiek. Minutieus onderzocht en beschreven. Dit is geen boek dat je op hoge snelheid kunt lezen. Ik vernoed dat ik niet de enige lezer zal zijn geweest die halverwege het boek de draad kwijtraakte door de mate van detail. Zeker voor een internationaal publiek dat niet bekend is met de Poolse geografie en geschiedenis had het beter geweest om een compactere versie van dit beklemmende verhaal te vertellen.