Q&A: Jedwabne as a Parable
Jedwabne as a Parable
Question
Hi Michi,
I’m taking advantage of the insomnia that struck me to extract some very important insights from the Jedwabne case—the Polish village where, according to the historian Jan Gross, the gentile residents murdered, with abuse and cruelty, the Jews who had lived among them.
And I dare ask: what good does this do? Is exposing historical truth a supreme value—let justice pierce the mountain, and the truth must be stated and published even if it may stir up a tsunami?!
I think the Jedwabne case is not comparable to Nazi Germany—there the events were documented in real time, and some of the murderers’ descendants knew that their parents had committed atrocities, and the third generation already grew up into that guilt, though now some of them are tired of carrying that burden of guilt.
But it seems to me that we ought to put ourselves in the place of the current residents of Jedwabne. We expect them to acknowledge the guilt of their parents and grandparents in committing atrocities. I think that expectation is inhuman—we have to take into account that normal human behavior will not allow people to adopt claims about atrocities committed by their parents or grandparents on the basis of arguments by some outsider that suddenly lands on them.
I do not know how Dr. Gross ought to have acted when he approached his research on Jedwabne. But I think this event proves that when we come to plan some course of action that may have consequences for others, we must put ourselves in the place of those people whose lives may be harmed to one degree or another as a result of what we do, and it is our duty to think about that harm not through our own personal perspective, but through the perspective of that other person, taking into account his cultural baggage—which may be very different from ours.
I stress that caution in bringing a crime to the surface should apply only in cases where the criminals are no longer alive. In Rwanda there are interesting attempts to deal with the murderous violence of the not-so-distant past—but they have no other choice.
I am not claiming that we should subordinate revealing the truth to other people’s feelings, but we must take those into account as well. But the main question occupying us should be to what extent bringing up a problematic issue will contribute to peace—not only now, but in the future.
I began writing these things on the night between Monday and Tuesday. During the day I added to them and revised them. Now I remembered events from Israel’s wars—not only the massacre that, according to Teddy Katz, took place at Dor, but also events that very few people know about—from the War of Independence, through the Sinai Campaign, and up to the Six-Day War. So, as we have learned from our experience here, bringing obscure and difficult events to the surface creates only feelings of resentment and hatred, and accusations of betrayal. It does not contribute to peace. It is therefore better to focus on seeking ways to prevent violence in the future, and here one must act with sophistication, sensitivity, and determination.
So in the meantime, good night and happy holidays.
Answer
Hello A.,
In my view there is value in truth in and of itself, though I agree that sometimes it is better not to tell all of it.
If children are not responsible for their parents, then what is the problem with publicizing the sins of the fathers? At most, you should say that we should publicize them without assigning responsibility.
It seems to me that Teddy Katz is the one called a “historian” despite not deserving it at all, who was convicted as a liar in court, including by the Supreme Court? I’m surprised you still quote him. Bringing lies to the surface certainly creates feelings of resentment, and rightly so.
Discussion on Answer
Happy holiday.
Good morning, Michi,
I do not know how things developed in Jedwabne after the publication of the research, but when television crews show interviews with the local people, one can definitely understand their anger. The more difficult problem is that there are Poles who refuse to admit that there were Poles who murdered Jews. It has now occurred to me that, quite possibly, aside from the psychological aspect, there is also a fear among the Poles that they will be sued to return apartments that once belonged to the local Jews.
I’ve now devoted more time to thinking about the murder of the Jews. Surely you know that the Lithuanian and Ukrainian guards were notorious for their abuse of concentration camp prisoners, unlike most Germans, some of whom found the service there very hard emotionally.
In my mind this connects to my mother’s stories about her village—Hohenau in Austria. Slovaks lived there too; they would get drunk at various gatherings, and then stab with knives. If someone died from those stabbings, that was a “reason to celebrate”—more drinking in the tavern and more stabbings. I heard similar stories from my father-in-law Yitzhak about the peasants in Galicia, where he was born.
And now a surprise: during my regular army service, a new class of recruits arrived in Battalion 82, and people said about them that they were knife-wielders and underworld types. We assumed with certainty that they were Moroccans—until they set us straight: they were from the Gomułka aliyah of 1957, and a significant portion of that company came from the Warsaw underworld. I remember that in those years it was fairly easy to identify them by their appearance [just as now with the Russians]. Was the violence a phenotype of a genotype?… And I return to the issue that troubles me so much—what causes people sometimes to commit acts of violence? Can one find a hint of an answer in the fact that when several dogs randomly gather together, they sometimes become violent?
Well then—I understand that I do not have the power to solve all the world’s problems [or even to understand most of them…] And yet—it is clear to me that suddenly exposing an individual or a public to the well-documented fact that his or their forefathers committed despicable acts will not increase peace and understanding in the world.
Happy holiday.