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A POLISH REPORT
So it wasn't the 'Nazis' after all
Polish
Massacre Probe Reopens Wounds By MELISSA EDDY, Associated Press Writer RADZILOW, Poland (AP)—You have to squint at the black stone to decipher how many Jews were killed in this farming village in 1941. The "8" on the monument has been neatly blacked out with shoe polish or paint. Only the "00" remains visible. That is not the only confusion in remembering Radzilow's Jews. Like whoever sought to blur the inscription, people in this impoverished corner of eastern Poland have for years been taught a smudged version of the truth they are now forced to confront: that Poles, not Nazis, did much of the killing. In nearby Jedwabne, a recent book has turned a spotlight on one of the most notorious pogroms, in which hundreds of Jews were burned alive in a barn. While the national media remain focused there, places like Radzilow, Wasosz and Stawiski—and perhaps dozens of others—have yet to face up to similar atrocities. In an effort to finally recognize what happened in Jedwabne, Polish leaders on Tuesday will dedicate a new, corrected monument to mark 60 years since the Jedwabne massacre, and President Aleksander Kwasniewski will offer a national apology. The old monument falsely attributed the massacre to the Nazis. Even Poles eager to know the truth have been shocked by what has emerged, said Anna Bikont, a journalist who posed as a former villager's cousin to write an expose on Radzilow. "Poles thought that Jedwabne was a unique case," she said. "Radzilow signified that it happened in more than one place. Jedwabne is only the start of the discussion." Yet in the villages where the killings took place, confronting the truth is much more difficult. There are rumors that Jedwabne residents intend to boycott the government ceremony. Neighboring Radzilow so far has escaped such intense scrutiny. Still, residents are immediately on guard when asked about what really happened in July 1941 as Soviet occupiers pulled out and Nazi troops closed in. "I think the whole thing has made people more closed," said Tomasz Olszewski, secretary of Radzilow's village council. "The only thing the people in Jedwabne have gained is more money for the upkeep of the monuments." Leon Kieres, who heads the Warsaw-based Institute of National Remembrance, says the point goes far beyond that. The institute, formed just last year to investigate war crimes and crimes against humanity committed in Poland from 1939 to 1989, has promised a full investigation into the killings at Jedwabne and Radzilow. In the Jedwabne massacre, which took place after invading Nazi troops supplanted the previous Soviet occupiers, some historians have suggested the Poles acted out of revenge for what they saw as Jewish cooperation with repressive Soviet occupiers. Inquiries into similar atrocities in other villages also are under way, Kieres said. Though part of the institute's job is to determine whether any living Poles could still be charged with crimes, Kieres emphasized that establishing the truth is the primary goal. "The main responsibility of the investigation will be to remind Polish society is that of course we were very brave . . . but we have in our history dark days," Kieres said. "As in Jedwabne." Such lessons are hard to learn after nearly five decades of Communist propaganda taught Poles to view themselves as heroic victims and resisters of Nazi aggression. The process is slow and painful. Jews say anti-Semitic attacks have increased in the months since the Jedwabne massacre became headline news over the past year. A prominent member of Warsaw's Jewish community, who declined to give his name, said he had been the victim of more racial slurs in the past two months than in the past five years. Jedwabne is causing strains in Polish society far beyond delicate relations with the tiny Jewish minority, exposing a split between conservative, rural folk and more Western-oriented urban Poles. "There are the nationalist Poles, who think it was the Germans who did it and what is the problem," Bikont said. "Then there are the liberal, European, democratic Poles, who think it is a very important discussion." The debate has also aggravated factions within Poland's powerful Roman Catholic church, which is often accused by international Jewish leaders of tolerating too much anti-Semitism—especially in rural areas. Certainly the dialogue is easier in cosmopolitan Warsaw than in the far-flung regions where the killings took place. Even villagers eager to know about the past have trouble getting answers. "We would also like to know what really happened," said Jadwiga Rogowska, 37, who lives across the street from the open field where the Radzilow monument stands. "In the past, we were too young to be interested and now it's hard to find out." Rogowska and her husband said some people in the village are now claiming they witnessed the Germans commit the massacre—though they are clearly too young to remember the event. The elderly, she said, are often reluctant or unable to remember. Nevertheless, Rogowska says it's time for Poles to confront their past. "Let's have it all explained now," she said. "Because later someone will start blaming our children." |
