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Poland's Progress
By Andrew Baker
New York Post
January 26, 2005
When Polish President Lech Walesa
organized the 50th anniversary commemoration of the
liberation of Auschwitz 10 years ago, he so angered
Jewish leaders and survivors they held their own ceremony
one day earlier. This year, world leaders will participate
in one program coordinated with Jewish organizations
and Jerusalem's Yad Vashem Museum. It benefits from
President Alexander Kwasniewski's diplomatic skills
and a decade of change in Poland and the region.
In 1995, the breaking point came
when Walesa's aides refused to include the Kaddish,
the Jewish prayer for the dead, in the official program.
It was symptomatic of insensitivity to Jews and an incomplete
knowledge of the Holocaust.
In the West, Auschwitz was known
as the death camp where 1 million Jews were murdered,
its name synonymous with the Nazis' genocidal plan.
But in Poland, it was seen as a place of Polish martyrdom.
For decades schoolchildren were taught - erroneously
- that a million Poles perished there, too, although
the actual number, horrible in its own right, was a
small fraction.
Walesa's missteps were criticized
abroad, but they reflected the attitudes of many Poles.
A 1995 American Jewish Committee survey found most Poles
viewed themselves as equal to Jews as Nazi victims.
Nearly 40 percent of Poland's population still harbored
anti-Jewish sentiments. Polish officials bristled at
demands for the return of Jewish communal property,
while restituting far more extensive holdings to the
church.
The difficulties of Poles in confronting
the Holocaust were shared by their neighbors. Under
Communism there was no open discussion of the role of
local collaborators. After 1991, many viewed themselves
as the primary victims. In the Baltic States, "genocide"
became the term describing their treatment by the Russians,
ignoring the fact that Latvian legionnaires and Lithuanian
police battalions willingly assisted the Nazis.
In Slovakia, nationalists fondly
recalled the wartime period of "independence"
when a Nazi puppet state sent 70,000 Jews to their deaths.
In Romania, people celebrated wartime leader Marshal
Ion Antonescu, whose anti-Soviet pedigree obscured the
fact that he ordered the deportation of hundreds of
thousands of Jews.
But much has happened since. The
three Baltic states established national historical
commissions to examine the role of their citizens in
the persecution of Jews during the Holocaust and the
anti-Semitic conditions preceding it. There are now
official Holocaust remembrance days and educational
programs.
Despite a history of anti-Semitism,
most Poles saw themselves as victims with no role in
the Nazi extermination of Jews. In 1995, 75 percent
believed Poles did everything possible to help Jews
during the Holocaust. This myth was challenged with
the publication of "Neighbors," describing
the 1941 pogrom unleashed by the citizens of Jedwabne
on their Jewish neighbors. In 2002, President Kwazniewski
spoke at Jedwabne's mass grave and begged forgiveness.
Romania appointed its own historical
commission, chaired by Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel. Its
findings, publicly accepted by the president in November
2004, established the culpability of the wartime regime
of Antonescu and took to task the country's Holocaust
deniers.
Every country in the region has
taken some measures to restitute Jewish communal property
or has begun the process. History texts are being corrected,
and the enthusiasm for reviving wartime fascist leaders
has waned. Equally important, each of these countries
has established close ties with Israel and has experienced
the salutary effects of trade and tourism.
Yet the record is imperfect and
incomplete. Recent surveys in Poland show anti-Jewish
sentiments are still held by a quarter of the population.
Marginal but not insignificant political parties court
voters with anti-Semitic appeals and the sale of anti-Semitic
literature. Politicians in Hungary and Romania act similarly,
while denying the facts of the Holocaust in their own
nations. Restituting Jewish property in all of Eastern
Europe remains an unpopular measure, giving pause to
well-intentioned politicians.
Tomorrow's 60th anniversary commemoration
at Auschwitz will likely be the last major ceremony
with significant numbers of Holocaust survivors. Many
had promised their dying relatives and friends they
would remember, and they will take comfort from the
unprecedented attention accorded this day. But they
also know the work of insuring future remembrance and
righting the wrongs of Holocaust-era injustices remains
unfinished.
Rabbi Andrew Baker is the American
Jewish Committee's Director of International Jewish
Affairs.
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