Poland: The War & Holocaust

Most conversations with Poles include references to The War (and it's always spoken of in that way--capitalized.) And of course for them, the reference is singular since it's the only war that truly has mattered.

I think about this when I encounter Poles of my vintage as I'm walking around. Thinking about their life history, as I understand it, compared to mine. They were born during, or perhaps a little before or a little after, The War. They may have some very early memories of it affecting their family, their home. Or they just may have memories of their early years, say when they were kindergarteners, hearing their parents talk about it. They may have grown up with the sounds of machine guns, artillery, planes flying overhead, perhaps bombs (if they lived in other parts of Poland, further from the concentration camps.)

And then the end of The War came. Their families may have moved (or been moved forcefully) to or from another part of the country as the national boundaries changed. Or they may have stayed in the same village but changed nationality (German to Polish, or Polish to Russian.) Regardless, there must have been a feeling of some relief as the active battles ended, soldiers came home, families reunited (or not).

And the Soviet era began. Stalin's ruthlessness was expressed in Poland as well, and affected their family's life. And theirs. It changed what was taught in school--Russian rather than German--and what could be expressed. It restricted their religion, their travel, their thought. They grew up being far more cautious, more circumspect in what they did/thought/said and whom they did it with.

And Stalin died and there was an easing of the repression. But only an easing, not an end. They finished their schooling and went to work. The economy was closed, the state was all powerful, and there was security in that. There was a public security net holding up everyone at a very low level and a ceiling limiting anyone (except party members) from getting too far ahead. This was Poland in the 60's, the last time I was here.

They came of age in the 70's and 80's, had their children, raised their families in a country that was gradually opening up. They watched as the world became more open and envied what they were seeing/hearing. A few took leadership, at great personal risk, in such things as the Solidarity movement. But most (and I would be one of these) laid low, kept their heads down, and hoped things would get better for their children's generation.

And then the 90's and 00's. Great opening up politically. Boom/bust/boom/bust economically. Individual freedom coupled with decreasing economic security as the public safety net fragments just as they're reaching older age. Their children embracing the political, economic and intellectual freedom that globalization brings. Some of their children emigrate to other EU countries because of economic opportunities, then return during the bust when those opportunities disappear. Disillusionment about the glories and benefits of globalization and what lies ahead for their children, and their grandchildren. And even for them.

And the Holocaust, much of which occurred on their ground. To some of their people. And to virtually all of their Jewish countrymen. And to thousands of others from all over Europe.

I expect there isn't anyone of my generation who has not had a family member or very close friend killed or wounded in The War or the Holocaust. It is a constant memory and reference point.

Through all of this, I lived in a very different world. The War was historical, not personal or visceral. Postwar meant Cold War, Red Scare, communist under your bed, bomb drills at school (crouch under the desk), homemade bomb shelters and sermons on "should you share your shelter with your neighbor?", the unleashing of economic opportunities for my generation in the 60's when everything was possible and we dominated the world and had it all. We have experienced none of the deprivation, insecurity, or limitations that our generational counterparts felt in Poland. Or the displacement, politically, intellectually, or geographically.

And for me, the Holocaust is also historical, not personal. We toured Auschwitz and Birkenau today. The weather was appropriate to the occasion---penetratingly cold (50's), wind-driven rain at 45 degree angle, leaden sky, and most of the 3+ hour tour outdoors.

I remember visiting here before, in the 60's. I felt humanistic horror at the venality of humans to other humans. This time in addition, I was also cognizant of my German heritage and the fact that my cultural ancestors were capable of perpetrating this.

Despite having been here before, and despite having been to the Holocaust Museum and Yad Vashem Museum in Jerusalem, there is nothing that prepares me for the scale and scope of Auschwitz and Birkenau as they have been preserved. I remembered things from before but saw many more today. And this time, I paid more attention to the conditions for the living-while-dying (since virtually no one left alive.)

There is the "standing room" at Auschwitz. A small space, entered by crawling through a small opening at floor level. People who were being punished were crammed together in the standing room--4 or 5 in the size of a telephone booth--and had no choice but to stand all night, then work their 11-hour shift, then go back to the "standing room"....for days or weeks on end.

And the "dark room" at Auschwitz. A small room, completely devoid of any light, where 30-40 people were crammed together for days or weeks, some of them suffocating because of the close quarters, as punishment for violating some rule (perhaps sharing some food they found, or helping another prisoner, or anything else the guard didn't like.)

And at Birkenau, the sleeping barracks, using the design of a stable for 52 horses, where 800-1000 people "slept" on triple-stacked wooden pallets were the. 6-8 people lay on each pallet, crammed together so tightly, like packaged hot dogs, that it was impossible for anyone to turn over. The top "bunk" was preferred; human waste flowed down because of "accidents" during the night from people with disease or simply those for whom the scheduled two 5-7 second visits to the bathroom each day (one every 12 hours) were not enough.

I need space, light and the ability to move. These images make my heart pound and leave me gasping for air.

The War and the Holocaust can never mean to me what they mean to Poles and Jews. I did not experience war in my village, the loss of family members or friends. I did not face death solely because of my ethnicity and the desire of a world leader to wipe my people off the face of the earth.

But by listening, looking and living here briefly, I get just a little hint of what they mean. And how privileged my life has been, in so many ways.

Happy Independence Day. It is good to be able to return to scraping and painting.