“ a Jew from Poland is not and never was simply Polish. … it was clear to Jews and Poles alike

January 2018

“..a Jew from Poland is not and never was simply

Polish. … it was clear to Jews and Poles alike

that they were two very different peoples who

happened to share the same piece of territory.

They could be neighbors and business partners,

but they were seldom friends and almost

never relatives or social or legal equals.” ¹
The ethno-nationalist spin for this state of affairs:

“It’s all the Poles’ fault!”

“Their animus, which carries Polish nationalism

into such an aggressively xenophobic articulation,

springs primarily from a deep pool of ethnic-cum-

religious hatred, which is indigenous to Poland

and has historically been aimed at Jews.”²

Traditional Jewish Attitudes Toward Poles

by Mark Paul

Mutual prejudices and stereotypes have been harboured by both Poles and Jews in regard to one another for long centuries. Few scholars in the West, however, have recognized that Jews, no less than Poles, adopted parallel, reciprocal views about the other community.³ A much overworked theme in studies of Polish-Jewish relations is that of the “Other,” with its exclusive focus on Polish attitudes toward Jews. Nowadays, condemnation is often expressed at the very notion that Poles were seen as the “Other” by the Jews.⁴ Poles are condemned for not embracing Poland’s Jews as Poles and for not including Jews within the Poles’ “sphere of moral obligations.”⁵ However, there were many times in the past that Poland’s Jews had overtly excluded themselves from the Polish nation, and the modern “Jews as nationality” concept only enhanced and formalized this self-exclusion.

Discussion of Jewish attitudes toward Poles has generally been eschewed in the literature on Polish-Jewish relations. Such a one-sided focus is seriously skewed.⁶ On an objective level, there is no reason to assign all the blame to one side for a state of affairs that was mirrored in both communities. Moreover, it provides little understanding of the dynamics of inter-ethnic relations in the context of the dramatic social, political and economic upheavals that befell Poland.⁷ This was especially true in interwar Poland, a multi-ethnic country that had reemerged after World War I after more than a century of foreign, colonial-like rule and where Poles were themselves in a minority in many towns and districts. Conflict between competing groups (nationalisms) was inevitable. The situation was further compounded by the traumatic experiences of the Second World War and how they have been handed down.

Stereotypes directed at the “Other” often came to the forefront and moderation is discarded in formulating opinions. Beniamin Horowitz, a Holocaust survivor, recalled:

In relations between particular groups of people, and even entire nations, there reigns an all-powerful principle of collective responsibility. That is why no one said that in Białystok, Równe or Łuck some Jewish Communists behaved with hostility toward Poles, but rather they generalized: “The attitude of the Jews was unfriendly.” Besides, this was the mutual rule in Jewish circles. I often heard similar generalized opinions about Poles that were equally inaccurate and equally unfair.⁸
The truth of the matter is that all ethnic and religious groups have traditionally viewed members of other groups as outsiders—as being outside their “universe of obligation,” to use a much hackneyed phrase—and treated them with suspicion, if not hostility. Jews were as much imbued with negative stereotypes about Poles as Poles were about Jews.⁹ “Otherness” was in fact a mainstay of traditional Judaism, no less than of Christian society, and the separateness of the Jews was accentuated by the claim that they were God’s “Chosen People.”¹⁰

The notion of chosenness went hand in hand with a deeply held sense of superiority. In the case of Poland, this attitude was especially noticeable with respect to peasant society. Nahum Goldmann, a leading Zionist and the founder and longtime president of the World Jewish Congress, does not skirt around these fundamental issues:

The Jews are the most separatist people in the world. Their belief in the notion of the chosen people is the basis of their entire religion. All down the centuries the Jews have intensified their separation from the non-Jewish world; they have rejected, and still do reject mixed marriages; they have put up one wall after another to protect their existence as a people apart, and have built their ghettos with their own hands, from the shtetl of Eastern Europe to the mellah of Morocco.

Moreover, it is worthwhile … to stress that the ghetto is historically a Jewish invention. It is wrong to say that the goyim forced the Jews to separate themselves from other societies. When the Christians defined the ghetto limited, Jews lived there already.

Lastly, while it is true that the Jewish people has always believed in its own superiority (expressed in the classic formulation, ‘the chosen people’), …¹¹

In the little township of Visznevo [Wiszniewo] we lived in a rural setting, and most of my grandfather’s patients were peasants. Every Jew felt ten or a hundred times the superior of these lowly tillers of the soil: he was cultured, learned Hebrew, knew the Bible, studied the Talmud—in other words he knew that he stood head and shoulders above these illiterates.¹²
The Jewish community was the repository of longstanding religious-based biases against Christians that instilled far greater affinity and solidarity with co-religionists from other regions and even other lands than with their Christian neighbours.¹³ In this regard, attacks directed against Poland and the Poles are to some degree a substitute for attacks on Christian society in general, and the Catholic Chuch in particular. Broad-based attacks on the Catholic Church, such as those launched incessantly by historian Daniel Goldhagen, tend to get a more vigorous rebuttal and manage to alienate many people. On the other hand, attacks on Poland and the Poles are—as this study shows—politically acceptable, even in their crudest form. In addition to religious fundamentalism, the rise of Jewish nationalism played an increasingly prominent role in Polish-Jewish relations since the latter part of the 19^th century. The broad Jewish masses underwent a process of national radicalization, which added fire to the fierce rivalry between competing nationalist movements, including the Jewish one.¹⁴

The subject of Polish-Jewish relations is almost always presented in terms of the Jewish victim and the intolerant Pole. Much of that writing is highly moralistic and hypocritical. The notion that Polish, Christian-based anti-Semitism was the key factor that set the tone for relations between Poles and Jews must be dismissed as an unfounded generalization—one that purposely omits other important components from the picture. It presents Jews as objects of perceptions, and not as agents that affect how they are perceived and how they are treated. Informed observers reject that approach. As Dr. Berthold Zarwyn remarked:

It appears to me that two main factors led to anti-Semitism in Poland. The monopolization of commerce by Jews forced into this area by exclusive regulations, and the lack of cultural interaction based mostly on religious ignorance. The attitudes of Catholic clergy on the one-side and of Orthodox Jewry on the other did not stimulate a normal understanding and intermingling.¹⁵
In Poland, Jews lived in closed, tightly knit, isolated communities largely of their own making.¹⁶ Orthodox Rabbi Avigdor Miller attributed the unwillingness of Poland’s Jews to assimilate to economic self-interest, along with a somewhat condescending attitude towards Poles. The rabbi comments:
When the Jews in Spain began to use that wealthy land as a means of mingling with the Arabs and Spaniards, G-d’s plan caused them to be expelled to lands of lesser culture, such as Turkey and Poland, with whom our people had no incentive to assimilate. Among these nations, G-d permitted the Jews to live in relative peace for centuries; for there was no danger that they would imitate the ways of the poor and backward populace. But those of our people who dwelt among the Germans, French, and English were tempted to mingle with them; for their higher living standards created a lure. You see how our nation adopted the German language, but not Polish or Turkish.¹⁷
The perpetuation of Jewish “otherness” worked to undermine any commonality with the non-Jewish population. The consequence was the existence of parallel societies that did not share any common aspirations and had little to do with each other. As one rabbi and writer noted,
Despite a continuous history of nearly ten centuries, the Jews were isolated from their fellow-citizens by religion, by culture, by language, even by dress. The Polish Jew had his own educational system, his own communal organization, his own youth movements, his press, theater, his party politics.¹⁸
Unlike the Christian Armenian and Muslim Tatar minorities, who did not shy away from cultural polonization and gained acceptance by Polish society despite religious differences, Jews guarded their communal life closely and wanted as few dealings with the outside world as possible, except those necessary to sustain their economic livelihood. Originally, the basis for separation was dictated by the tenets of the Jewish religion. The rise of a full-fledged, anti-assimilationist Jewish ethno-nationalism in the late 19^th and early part of the 20^th century fostered the expression of a distinctive ethnic and national identity,¹⁹ in opposition to that of the Poles. The Yiddishist secular movement in the 19^th century, which elevated Jews to a separate, formal nationality, fostered an aggressive and politicized Jewish particularism and self-imposed apartheid. For example, the Yiddishist Folkspartei was of the position that a Jew could only join another national group, such as the Poles or Russians, by resigning from the Jewish community.²⁰

It was inevitable that the religious, cultural and socio-economic differences between the Polish and Jewish communities would give rise to divergent political aspirations and agenda. Jewish politicization at the start of the twentieth century compounded this problem, underscroring that Jewishness was a key element of identity. Nationalist ideas even penetrated the Jewish socialist movement, symptomatic of the growing divisions between the Polish and Jewish workers’ movemeny. For example, Feliks Perl (1871–1927) sharply criticized the Bund for its politically separatist ambitions (in addition to all the pre-existing religious and cultural separatist tendencies) that went squarely against Polish national interests. Historian Joshua Zimmerman comments,

Perl’s main critique, however, was that the Bund excluded Polish independence from its party platform. … More importantly, the Bund’s vision of a democratic federal republic was undemocratic in character, Perl argued, for under the Bund’s plan, the nationalities of the western provinces and the Kingdom of Poland would be coerced into a federation ruled from Moscow. … In an effort to formulate a theoretical justification for its refusal to support Polish independence, Perl continued, the Bund had resorted to intellectual “acrobatics” and “prevarications”. How did the Bund arrive at such a position? Perl’s answer is revealing: “It derives from the Bund’s original sin—it’s all-Russian position. In the country in which it is active—in Lithuania and Poland—the Bund has separated itself from the local population, neither shares its aspirations not understands its interests, and does not sympathize with the exceptional predicament in which these subjugated people find themselves.” By linking the Jewish labour movement in Poland-Lithuania to Russia, “the Bund plays a false and harmful political role”.²¹
Most Jews in the Eastern Borderlands and the German-held parts of Poland were firmly opposed to the prospect of Polish rule after World War I.²² At the same time, the mainstream Jewish organizations, especially the Zionist ones, waged a political war against Poland in the international forum to achieve a far-reaching form of national autonomy. (The socialist Bund was more moderate and willing to settle for “cultural autonomy”.) They considered Poland to be a multinational state where national minorities could pursue their own national agendas. Most Poles, on the other hand, viewed Poland foremost as a national homeland of the Poles, just like Jews view Israel as national homeland of the Jews.²³

The widespread disdain for the Polish state again came to the fore when throngs of Jews, in every town populated by Jews, welcomed the Red Army when it invaded Eastern Poland in September 1939. This attitude is also evidenced in scores of Holocaust testimonies that relish in reporting, falsely, that the Polish army collapsed in one week (or even days) when Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, and in illegitimate comparisons, made by many Holocaust historians, of the defence of Poland in September 1939 to the revolt in the Warsaw ghetto in April 1943, with the latter being touted as more formidable than the former.

The resistance of many Polish Jews to assimilation is often blamed on the uncongenial Catholic-majoritarian atmosphere in Poland (“Polish Jews had nothing to assimilate to.”). The real reason was the desire of vast majority of Jews to maintain an extreme distinctness, particularism, and cultural separatism. By and large they adamantly rejected the prospect of the pluralism offered by secular Western nations. In an Amazon review of Joshua Karlip’s book The Tragedy of a Generation,²⁴ reviewer Jan Peczkis notes:
Jewish counter-assimilation, and maintenance of Jewish particularism and separatism, are usually blamed on the persistence of anti-Semitism, the denial of equality and full acceptance to Jews, and to a strongly Christian-majoritarian atmosphere. According to this kind of thinking, assimilation can only proceed in a pluralistic, western-style secular state, with its unambiguous separation of church and state and its equality of all citizens.

Ironic to this line of reasoning (or exculpation), the Jewish separatists actually feared the very equality offered by western-style democracies—precisely because it would lead to assimilation! What the Jewish separatists wanted was special national rights for Jews. Thus, Karlip comments, “Following their expressions of euphoria, Diaspora nationalists and Yiddishists began to articulate their vision of the future of a liberated Russian Jewry. Like all other Jewish nationalists, [Elias] Tcherikower warned that civic emancipation in the absence of national rights would lead to West European-style assimilation. He reminded his readers that Russian Jewry had won negative freedom—namely, the freedom from oppression—but had yet to win its positive freedom, which meant national rights and the creation of national institutions.” (P. 135.)

To the Yiddishists, Jewish emancipation and assimilation were inherently unacceptable because they were gutting the very essence of being Jewish, “In this article, he [Zelig Hirsh Kalmanovitch] argued that assimilation resulted from the historical process of modernity itself. In the Middle Ages, he argued, Jewish individuals had lived as members of the Jewish community. Capitalism, however, had granted these individuals the opportunity to seek their fortunes in non-Jewish society.” (P. 199.) In addition, “Emancipation had led to a selfish individualism that condemned all experiments at secular Jewish identity to failure.” (P. 178.)

Other Yiddishists went further. They believed in a form of Jewish essentialism that made Jews unassimilable in the first place, “More viscerally, [Yisroel] Efroikin argued that Jewish national distinctiveness rendered assimilation futile. At times, Efroikin’s integral nationalist conception of Jewish identity drifted into a racialist conception of Jewish distinctiveness. Invoking the historian Cecil Roth, Efroikin described how Marranos in Spain and Portugal retained a separate identity even five hundred years after their conversions.” (P. 257.)

Nahum Sokolow, a member of a Jewish delegation at the Paris Peace Conference, made this obvious. Oscar Janowsky writes, “Sokolow also maintained that 85% of the Jews of Poland knew no Polish, but spoke Hebrew or Yiddish. They possessed a communal life with flourishing educational, social and charitable institutions. Mere emancipation of the western type would destroy, in his view, this communal life.”²⁵ Relatively few Jews were interested in assimilation. According to a 1917 Prussian study, only 3–5% of Poland’s Jews were Assimilationists. By contrast, 40% were petit bourgeois nationalists (encompassing Folkists and all Zionists); 8% were Bundists and supporters of Poale Zion, and nearly 50% were Agudists.²⁶

This trend continued in the interwar period. In an Amazon review of In Those Nightmarish Days: The Ghetto Reportage of Peretz Opoczynski and Josef Zelkowicz,²⁷ reviewer Jan Peczkis notes:
In his description of the authors, editor Kassow comments, “Before the war, Opoczynski and Zelkowicz were journalists who knew the people they were writing for: the fractious, argumentative, opinionated Polish Jews who read the morning Yiddish newspapers…Modern secular Jews loved to hear gossip about Hasidic rebbes; Hasidim avidly read exposes of crafty criminals. Yiddish-speaking Jews devoured biting satires of Polish-speaking Jews (shmendrikes) [i.e., nobodies] and their shallow pretensions.” (p. viii). For an exposition of the contempt of Peretz Opoczynski towards Polish-speaking Jews—as shmendrikes—see p. 42 and p. 93.

Acculturated and assimilated Polish Jews were “too Jewish” for many Poles and “not Jewish enough” for many Jews. Editor Kassow alludes to the fact (as noted by Endeks) that Polish-speaking Jews remained Jews first and “Poles” second, while anti-assimilationist Jews warned that even outward Polonization meant a suicidal loss of essential Jewishness, “While the Polish-language Jewish press showed great sympathy for Zionism, supported the new Hebrew literature in Palestine, and extensively reviewed Yiddish literature and theater, the Yiddish-language sector stubbornly refused to return the favor. … The Yiddish writer Yehoshue Perle called them, “mentshn on a morgn,” people without a future …” (p. xi). Furthermore, “Opoczynski, more outspoken, … made no secret of his contempt and even hatred of Polish-speaking Jews.” (p. xii).

Peretz Opoczynski of the Warsaw ghetto wrote of a situation where Jewish mail carriers were not acting as uprightly as Christian mail carriers. This prompted the following quoted remark of some angry Jews, “You’re worse than the goyim.” (p. 48).
It is often claimed that Jews were loyal citizens of Poland because they did not have a political agenda that conflicted with that of their home state. However, Yiddishist-oriented Jews were against an undoing of the Partitions of Poland, and resurrection of the Polish state, because this would geographically divide the Jews and thus dilute their political power. A new Polish state could also cause the diminution or loss of centuries-old Jewish economic privileges. Finally, Slavic culture was unworthy of the Jews. As Joshua Karlip writes,
As this last shred of hope gave way to sober reality, [Yisroel] Efroikin also mourned the breakup of Russia into independent successor states as spelling the death of a unified Russian Jewry. From the late eighteenth century until World War I, Lithuanian, Polish, and Ukrainian Jews had comprised a united Russian Jewry that experienced modernization together through such movements and processes as Haskalah, Zionism, and the rise of Yiddish culture. Now, however, Russian Jews would face the future as minorities in emerging nation-states. … Although the successor states might guarantee personal emancipation and national autonomy, he argued, the small size of these fragmented Jewish communities would preclude autonomy’s implementation. The peasant nationalities that would lead most of these successor states, moreover, would force the Jews from their traditional economic role in commerce and industry. Echoing the Yiddishist call for a synthesis between Jewish and European cultures, Efroikin feared that the low cultural level of these peasant nationalities would negatively affect the development of secular Yiddish culture.²⁸
Objective outside observers saw the potential for conflict inherent in Jewish attitudes, and they did not lay all the blame on the Polish side, as is increasingly the case with the more recent historical treatment of Polish-Jewish relations.²⁹ John Howard Adeney, who had much first-hand experience in this area, noted the sense of elitism that characterized the attitude of the Jews to their surroundings.
The Jew, living among Christians who make much display of images and eikons [icons], is firmly convinced that they, too, are idolaters, and therefore on a par with the Canaanites of old, while he as a pure monotheist stands on an infinitely higher plane. And Talmudic teaching has accentuated this point of view. Hence he consciously or unconsciously despises the non-Jews, and cultivates a real pride in himself and a contempt for all that is non-Jewish. This line of conduct naturally irritates the non-Jew.³⁰
Instead of repeating the standard Judeocentric narrative that blames the failure of assimilation, and the need for Zionism, on Polish anti-Semitism, the British journalist Robert Wilton has a much more sophisticated understanding of Jewish-Polish relations.
In Poland they [Jews] enjoyed a large measure of freedom. All business was in their hands. They acted as agents of the great landlords. The urban population was—and remains—mostly Jewish. But Poles and Jews lived peacefully enough together. … Thirty years ago [i.e., about the time of Jan Jeleński’s Rola] the Poles began to go into business themselves. Competition arose. The landlords started agricultural associations to shake off the Jewish monopoly. A rift betokened itself, and has been growing ever since—effectually discrediting Assimilationist theories, largely based upon the earlier and one-sided adjustment of Polish and Jewish interests.³¹
The American Harold Henry Fisher recognized the alienating nature of Jewish separatism in Poland: “This Jewish nationalist formula was supported by the Zionists, and the right and left Jewish Socialists. The orthodox Jews advocated merely emancipation and equality of rights. The conflict, therefore, was not with ‘Poles of the Jewish faith,’ but with ‘Polish citizens of the Jewish nation.’” Despite the later (1925) efforts of Stanisław Grabski (Minister of Religious Beliefs and Public Education), Count Aleksander Skrzyński (Poland’s Prime Minister in 1925–1926), and several Jewish members of the Sejm (Polish Parliament), the problem persisted: “These measures did not, of course, put an end to anti-Semitism in Poland or to hostility to the Polish state among certain Jewish groups, but it was a step in the right direction, a hopeful indication of a less intransigent spirit in Polish-Jewish relations.”³²

As noted, the Jews wanted to live as a separate nation within a nation, among their own kind, with their own language, schools and institutions, and even their own communal government. Contacts with Poles (Christians) would be kept to a minimum, mainly on the economic plane. However, in addition to an exclusivist community for Jews, whose institutions were to be funded by the state, Jews wanted to have it both ways: they also demanded full access to the institutions of the majority as a vehicle for their own social advancement. While such an imbalanced separateness or autonomy was pressed by Jews and other minorities, those Poles who held similar aspirations for themselves were branded as anti-Semites and xenophobes. Just as rabbis favoured denominational schools for Jews, some Catholic clergy advocated for the establishment of denominational schools for Catholics. (Denominational schools exist in many countries including Canada.) The Jewish community had to settle for the right to establish separate schools (some were state funded, but most Jewish schools were private), and maintained a broad range of community institutions. Many private Jewish schools, however, did receive municipal subsidies, as did many Jewish social and cultural institutions,³³ a fact that is generally ignored in Jewish historiography.