OUR CLASS A play by Tadeusz Slobodzianek English Version by Ryan Craig READING AND STUDY GUIDE with historical, literary, and biblical references for individual reading and class discussion Prepared by Dr. Suzanne Free Historical consultant: Avi Ben-­Hur Thanks to Dr. Michael Naragon for source materials on Neighbors. February 2013 Visit www.classroomswithoutborders.org for more information. OUR CLASS A Play by Tadeusz Slobodzianek READING AND STUDY GUIDE “To be sure, [Our Class] is a difficult production to watch . . . but these things happened. And watch we must.” James Miller “One night I had a strange dream . . . all around me . . . through the open gate . . . I see black wolves. I think to myself who the hell opened the gate?” Jakub, Our Class, Lesson VII “Hide till it’s over . . . Stay in the house and keep out of sight . . . I’ll be back when the dust settles.” Menachem, Our Class, Lesson VII “What could they have done during the war? What could any of us have done?” Abram, Lesson XIII “I do not see the possibility of attaining closure here.” Jan Gross, Neighbors “This was a war that no one…quite survived.” Heda Kovaly Introduction Our Class, written by Polish playwright Tadeusz Slobodzianek and translated by Ryan Craig, was first performed at the National Theater in London in September 2009. It won the NIKE Prize, Poland’s highest literary honor. But it also caused a storm of controversy. Our Class is a work of art, a construct of imagination. But Slobodzianek based much of the play’s theme, characterization, and setting on a book called Neighbors by Jan Tomasz Gross, Professor of History at Princeton University. Like Gross’s book, Our Class grapples with one of the lesser-­‐known atrocities of the Holocaust – the torturing and killing of approximately 1600 Jewish men, women, and children in Jedwabne, Poland in July 1941, not by Germans, but by their fellow Poles-­‐-­‐people they knew, went to school with, traded and socialized with. This “shocking story, buried for sixty years” (David Engel), did not take place in a concentration camp or ghetto, but in a quiet little town where Jews and non-­‐
Jewish Poles, mostly Catholics, had gotten along fairly well for nearly a thousand years. What on earth happened? Before delving into the play, it is useful—even crucial, in this case-­‐-­‐to know something about the historical context of the play. One might argue that the play is about setting above all-­‐-­‐where and when Our Class takes place. Many writers have wrestled with the impact of setting on human character and action: How much does “historical moment” make or break one’s identity and form or de-­‐form one’s moral code? How is social conscience built up and torn down? Can decades—even centuries-­‐-­‐of political and cultural upheaval, deprivation, insecurity, and trauma account for what happened in Jedwabne in 1941? The Poles, both Jewish and non-­‐
Jewish, certainly suffered all of these things. But enormous as those forces and influences were, was that all there was to it? Do we need to look any further for answers? Is it naïve and pointless to even hope for answers? Jan Gross doesn’t think so. He even asks if we need to revise our “historio-­‐
graphy” —the way we remember and write history. In brief summary, over three million Jewish Poles died in Nazi death and labor camps, victims of a genocidal fanaticism beyond rational comprehension. But after the war, many Poles regarded themselves as victims of Nazi oppression as much as the Jews, denying all complicity with the Germans’ policy of extermination. In fact, it was the “Polish national historical memory” – the tacit, agreed-­‐upon memory – “that they did not collaborate with the Nazi murder of Polish Jews, that they were victims [of Nazi oppression] like the Jews, and certainly not perpetrators” (Avi Ben-­‐Hur). Neighbors challenged that memory, calling for Poles “to face their unpleasant past.” It has been an ongoing, slow, and painful process. In follow-­‐up books, Fear and Golden Harvest, Gross “documented the attacks-­‐pogroms perpe-­‐
trated on Jewish survivors in Poland in 1945 and 1946 [after the war] when they tried to return to their homes” (Ben-­‐Hur) Their homes and property had been seized as “spoils of war” and they were killed or driven out. What happened in Jedwabne in 1941 was not against the will of its non-­‐Jewish citizens. It was Polish anti-­‐Semitism that set neighbor against neighbor so barbarously. Yet, as Gross concedes, “Everything connects with everything else.” There are no easy answers to the question of “Why?” Anything we can say in this study guide is over-­‐simplification. But the barest outline of events leading up to the Jedwabne massacre begins in the decade after World War I, a time of increasing conflict between Jewish and Catholic Poles (for the complex roots of this conflict, see Appendix). Tensions worsened when eastern Poland was invaded and occupied by the Soviets in 1939. This invasion was preceded by a secret agreement – a “non-­‐
aggression pact” -­‐-­‐ between Stalin and Hitler to divide Poland in two and each take half. Not for the first time in its history, Poland was partitioned and ceased to exist. “Sovietization” and secularization began at once and took a heavy toll. “Local elites were arrested or deported” (Gross); Polish nationalists and patriots were arrested, imprisoned, deported, or otherwise silenced. Later, in June of 1941, when Stalin and Hitler turned on each other, Germany occupied all of Poland and, without much fanfare, coaxed an already flourishing anti-­‐Semitism into full bloom. Many Poles in Jedwabne accused Jews of collaborating with the despised Soviets (some did, but so did many non-­‐Jewish Poles). Therefore, some nationalistic non-­‐Jewish Poles were not altogether sorry to see the Germans march into town. Germans were glad to fan the flames of racial hatred, whatever its roots. Poles were given permission-­‐-­‐but not ordered-­‐-­‐to kill Jews any way they liked, and to seize their property without any fear of arrest or punishment. Neighbors stresses that those Poles who took part in the Jedwabne massacre were not coerced by the Germans to kill all of the town’s Jews. (Only seven survived.) They chose to do it. Then, after the war, in a stone and wood monument, they attributed the crime to the Nazis. By some accounts, the few Germans who saw the aftermath of what took place in Jedwabne on July 10 (the German army had moved out by then) were put off by the frenzied excess of the “barn-­‐burning.” Why not spare at least one or two shoemakers or tailors? Only now, thanks to new scholarship, is Poland coming to terms with what really happened and wrestling with the problem of responsibility. It is an agonizing process. A few eyewitnesses are still living, and some are telling what they remember. The old divisions of perpetrators-­‐victims-­‐bystanders have blurred and painful questions have been asked. Was this simply the work of 80 or 90 radical “hooligans,” while others looked on? Did no one try to stop them? Where was the local church? Were there other similar incidents in Poland? More broadly, what can be learned from such “neighborly” atrocity? Was it unique to World War II? Can we blame it on the subtle and perverse “divide and conquer” strategy of the Nazis? Non-­‐Jewish Poles suffered massacres of their own, such as the 1940 murder of thousands of Polish military officers in the Katyn forests (which the Soviets only acknowledged in 1991). And what explains the heroic courage of those Poles who resisted and risked their lives to hide and save Jews all across Poland? Many did. In any case, according to eyewitness Szmul Wasersztajn, as told to the Jewish Historical Commission on April 5, 1945, in Jedwabne, “Jakub Kac they stoned to death with bricks. Krawiecki they knifed and then plucked out his eyes and cut off his tongue . . . After various tortures and humiliations, they burned all the Jews in a barn. The sick people they carried to the barn . . .the little children they roped together by their legs . . . then put them on pitchforks and threw them onto smoldering coals . . . After the fire they used axes to knock golden teeth from still not entirely decomposed bodies . . . .” (Neighbors, pp. 2-­‐6) In the words of Jan Gross, “what seems inconceivable is precisely what happened.” Before Neighbors was published, Gross wondered, “How will the Polish citizenry process the revelation [of this atrocity] when it becomes public know-­‐
ledge?” Slobodzianek’s Our Class asks human citizenry—you and me—the same question. How will we process the revelation of what happened in Jedwabne, once we have read the play? Preface: The Play Our Class is not easy to watch. It takes approximately three hours to perform, and the “lessons” it offers, comparable to periods in Poland’s history, grow progress-­‐
ively more complex and difficult to comprehend in moral and psychological terms. The play goes back and forth in time. Both living and dead characters speak and comment on what is happening; both draw from their memories of the past. They sometimes corroborate and contradict one another’s memories. (In the 2012 Wash-­‐
ington DC production, the dead were differentiated from the living by taking off their shoes when they were killed, moving to the back of the stage, and going barefoot for the rest of the play. In Lesson IV, elementary-­‐age Jewish students are asked to move to the back of the class -­‐-­‐ a foreshadowing of what’s to come?) The play offers us a kind of historical “3-­‐D” or “double” vision. We are in the present moment—but we are also looking back in hindsight. Though the living characters do not know it, their dead classmates are still very much on stage and interested in what is going on and being said about them. Questions to think about before the curtain goes up: (1) On the stage of real life, do the past and present haunt each other in a similar, if less literal, way? (2) Has anything happened in your own family’s past that haunts you and/or other family members today? Would you prefer to remember or forget it? What is the use of memory? (3) In the Tanakh (the Jewish Bible), what does taking off one’s shoes signify? (4) Have you ever felt that your world—or the whole world-­-­is out of control? How do you cope with that feeling? If you are reading rather than watching the play, certain lines tend to jump off the page: “We have to swear off revenge” – “Surely all Poles are anti-­Semites” -­-­ “I felt bad for him, but what could I do?” – “Haven’t our lives been strange?” – “I thought I’d write [to you] so that you don’t feel utterly alone in this incomprehensible world.” These lines are pretty clear. But much about these characters’ words, actions, and motives may seem unclear, contradictory, and deeply disturbing. A review of the convoluted history of Poland, the history of anti-­‐Semitism, and articles like Jan Gross’s reply to one of his critics (see Appendix) offer additional perspec-­‐
tive. As you read, don’t be discouraged if some parts of the play seem hard to follow. Seeing the play performed will help. LESSON I The action of the play spans nearly 80 years, from 1925 to 2003. Though the central event is the “barn-­‐burning” on July 10, 1941, much happens before and after this. In Lesson I, we are introduced to ten Jedwabne school-­‐kids-­‐-­‐the class. Five are Jewish and five are Catholic, though you may not know it at once. They define themselves by their parents’ professions and their personal ambitions, not by religion or ethnicity; they want to be farmers, doctors, teachers, firemen, etc., when they grow up. In fact, they will grow up to be victims and victimizers, perpetrators and bystanders, murderers and heroes. Some will survive; all will be damaged. The playwright expects you to know something about the times. The first lesson counts on that knowledge for irony. (1) Why is the play set in a classroom? (2) Where is the teacher? (3) In the opening song, a child is asked where he is going. Where are these children going? Are they doomed by their place and time in history? (4) Are these kids’ ambitions normal? Admirable? Are all children “good” in childhood? Is innocence the same as goodness? Note that, as watchers of the play, all we can do is witness. All we can be is bystanders. The play puts us in the position of the Greek gods, watching from above, knowing what is going to happen, but unable to change it since “Fate” has sealed these characters’ futures long ago. This is past history. (5) Why do you think Slobodzianek set Our Class up this way? (6) Could this play be compared to Sophocles’s Oedipus Rex or Shakespeare’s Macbeth? Are we about to witness a tragedy on a mammoth scale? Note: In his Poetics, Aristotle defined a tragic play as “an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude…with incidents arousing pity and fear” -­‐-­‐ pity for the “unmerited misfortune of others,” and fear of “the misfortune of people like our-­‐
selves” who make decisions out of blindness or ignorance, culminating in catastrophe. But in a tragic play, catastrophe culminates in moments of recognition and revelation for the protagonist. He finally understands how his own blindness brought him down. But his breakthrough comes too late to avert or mitigate the tragedy. Keep this in mind as you read Our Class. (7) Do you detect any blindness in these children? Is their innocence a weakness or a strength? (8) When you were in first and second grade, how did you define yourself? How do you define yourself now? (9) Who is the Pilot in the last little rhyme? What is the first “lesson?” LESSON II (1) What is the basis of attraction or rejection in these kids’ social lives? (2) Which kids are Jewish Poles? Which are Catholic Poles? Does it matter? (3) Rysiek , “thick but nice looking,” makes a Valentine for Dora. What motivates Menachem to grab and read it aloud? How does the rest of the class react? Do they mean any harm? Is this normal teasing for kids? (5) Rysiek secretly offers his heart to a pretty Jewish girl and is laughed at. Does he learn anything from this experience? (6) Dora says, “I felt bad for him, but what could I do?” How old is Dora on stage when she says this? Could she have done anything? (7) What are the meanings of the words the children shout out in their pretend Jewish wedding? Where have they learned them? If you are not familiar with the words, look them up for meaning and implication. They have ironic force in this context. Note: One of them, “Matzevah,” literally means “firmly fixed”—as a headstone or memorial stone is firmly fixed at the head of a grave. In Jewish tradition, the headstone is meant to stand guard and bear witness to the life of the person who lies beneath. The “mat-­‐
zevah” is to be reverenced since it helps mourners remember and honor the dead. (Many headstones in Jewish cemeteries in Poland were—and are—beautifully carved with sym-­‐
bolic artistic designs). Is there irony in the children’s casual use of Matzevah at this mock wedding of a Christian and Jew? Will the love of their friendship stay “firmly fixed?” All the Hebrew words shouted out here have deep meaning for Jews. (8) Why don’t the Jewish classmates take offense? Jewish cemeteries and countless memorial stones in Poland were vandalized and destroyed by the Nazis. Some of the stones were even used to pave streets. Six million Jews would have no memorial stones at all, their bodies thrown into ovens and mass graves, their ashes into ponds and pits—vanished forever. As recently as November 2012, twenty Jewish memorial stones in the cemetery of Lodz, Poland were vandalized. In 2011, the memorial to the murdered Jews in Jedwabne was vandalized. LESSON III It is nine years later, 1935. The classmates are now in high school. They are mourning the death of one of Poland’s most beloved twentieth-­‐century leaders, Jozef Pitsudski, a revolutionary, statesman, chief of state, and “First Marshal” of the newly independent Second Republic of Poland established in 1918. After World War I, he did much good in Poland (schools, women’s suffrage, etc.) and was known for his ethnic tolerance. (1) Is there still unity in the class? In Poland? Was Pitsudski a good leader? (2) Who leads this classroom? Does the absence of a good leader/teacher create a “vacuum?” What is the high cost of failed education? (4) Why does Heniek mock the poem about the Marshal’s death? Is he an anti-­
Semite? (5) The class turns on Heniek and mocks his pride in being an “altar boy.” Are they anti-­Catholic? Is this occasional “ganging up” on an individual anything to worry about at this age? How does a good teacher handle bullying? (6) How are tensions in the classroom defused? (7) Why does Jakub object to Abram’s going to America? Note: The “Bund” that Jakub Katz refers to (the Jewish Labor Bund) sought to unify all Jewish workers in their pursuit of democratic and/or socialist ideals and in shared Jewish culture, regardless of where they lived. The Bund came to regard Jewish “Zionists” (who opposed assimilation and advocated a Jewish state) as escapists; culture, not place, should be the “glue” of Jewish nationalism.” Those who left Poland to go to Israel (or America) might well suffer Jakub’s reproach: ”We’re not supposed to leave. This is where you belong.” (8) Is Jakub loyal to Poland as well as to his Jewish faith? To one more than the other? (9) How does Slobodzianek use foreshadowing in this lesson? Do Jews “belong” in Poland? How long have they lived there? Note: Before the 17th century, Poland welcomed persecuted Jews from other countries for their craftsmanship, fluency in languages, technical skills, and experience in trade, and protected them from Christian accusations of “blood libel” (using Christian children’s blood in their Passover bread), theft, well poisoning, etc. See Appendix for more on this; also note in Lesson IV. In this lesson, Jakub refers to poet Adam Mickiewicz, whose national epic poem, Pan Tadeusz, was compulsory reading in Polish schools. Among its more haunting and (for this play) prophetic lines are: Thus in this world fate all with a bell's tolling ends, Great ambitions, great projects of imagination, Childhood's playtimes and friendship's heart-­felt consolations, The hearts' tender confessions! Should some dread bronze roar from afar, all is shattered, confused – is no more! O Mother Poland! So freshly entombed, One has not strength now to speak of your doom! (10) Abram sails for America in August 1937. Rachelka says that maybe it’s his “destiny” to go there. Is there destiny at work in the world? Do people choose their destinies, or are they chosen for them? At the end of the play, think back to Rachelka’s comment and ask these questions again. LESSON IV Poland was and is predominantly Catholic, but in 1939 there was a substantial Jewish population, estimated to be over 3,000,000, the largest in Europe. By this time, Jews had lived in Poland for nearly a thousand years. As noted in Lesson III, from the 12th to 16th century, persecuted Jews from other countries in Europe were encouraged to find sanctuary in Poland. Though some Poles blamed the Jews for the Black Plague (Jewish ritual hand-­‐
washing before meals and bathing in clean rain-­‐water helped protect them from the disease), the Polish king, Casimir the Great, guaranteed their safety in 1364. Since Jews had no designs on Polish land, they were given autonomy in religion, politics, and social life and the right to live in closed communities. Over time, Jews played a significant and disting-­‐
uished role in the economic development of Poland as well as in the arts and sciences. But between the world wars, latent anti-­‐Semitism (“Jew-­‐hatred”) – which “has had a long and infamous lineage in the Christian West” (Brustein) -­‐-­‐ became more overt and increasingly violent. Many Catholic Poles perceived Jews as collaborators with the Soviet Union and thus enemies of true Polish patriotism. Note: Poland’s 20th-­‐century political agonies were nothing new. “The country was partitioned no less than three times between the 18th and 19th centuries. [Catholic] Poles saw themselves nationally as Christ suffering on the cross,” and Catholicism became synonymous with Polish identity. Thus, by the end of World War I, “despite their long history in Poland,” Jews and other non-­‐Catholic minorities were not regarded as authentic Poles. “Polish Jews by definition were not deemed Polish” (Ben-­‐Hur). As Lesson IV opens, it is 1937. Heniek announces to the class that the Polish government’s Ministry of Education has mandated a time for prayer in all of its class-­‐rooms. This will not be ecumenical prayer. Jews are excluded from participation. As a devoted Catholic, Heniek assumes his right to lead this religious exercise. (1) Does Heniek have any problem with telling his Jewish friends to go to the back of the classroom? (2) Why do the Jews agree? Are they resentful? Does the simple stage direction, “They do,” foreshadow what is to come in Poland and in the play? (3) Heniek does not lead the class in prayer. He leads them in a recitation of the Apostles Creed—a Christian statement of faith, blatantly exclusive. Is there irony in the “disconnect” between what the Catholic students are saying and what they are doing? (4) Think again of Aristotle’s definition of tragedy: a chain of events set in motion by decisions made in blindness. Who is blind in this “lesson?” Who isn’t? (5) Why is Jakub angry at Wladek? What facts emerge from his sudden outburst? (6) The tone of this scene varies wildly from moment to moment. Note how individual character is developed and revealed. What kind of a person is Menachem? Zygmunt? Rachelka? Wladek? Are personalities beginning to take permanent shape? Do you like some characters more than others? Are there any clearly good guys or bad guys? (7) Why do “the Poles” – meaning non-­Jewish Poles now – start beating Menachem? Who or what stops them? (9) The Poles claim they believe that Christ will return one day to judge the living and the dead. Do they think about what they are saying? (10) Ask again: Where is the teacher in this classroom? What is the high cost of failed education? LESSON V It is 1939. The children are no longer in a literal classroom (though we, the watchers, still are, as lessons continue); they are young graduates in their early twenties. Poland is now occupied by the Soviet army. Remember the secret “Non-­‐Aggression” treaty between Stalin and Hitler? They divided Poland down the middle and each took half. The little town of Jedwabne fell just east of the boundary to the Soviets. Poland no longer exists as a nation. The “Sovietization” of east Poland and Jedwabne is underway. Stalin, not Jesus Christ, is now the judge of the Poles and determines who will be tolerated or elevated to power-­‐-­‐or imprisoned, deported to Siberia (by the hundreds of thousands), or killed. Note that Catholic Pole Heniek is quick to accuse Jewish Poles of welcoming the Soviets in the hope that life will get better for them under Communism. Many Jews did welcome them, but as Jan Gross notes in Neighbors, by no means all. By this time, Jews had suffered much damage to their freedoms, businesses, and property in Poland. In some universities, “ghetto benches” were introduced where Jews were made to sit apart in lecture halls. Doctors and lawyers were barred from trade unions. Stores were broken into and looted. Hope for improvement under the Soviets was understandable, if naïve. Nevertheless, their welcoming of the Red Army was perceived by many ethnic Poles as “dancing on Poland’s grave.” However, note that Wladek corrects Heniek, affirming that many non-­‐Jewish Poles also welcomed the Soviets, hoping their lives would be safer and less impover-­‐ished under Stalin than under Hitler, who was invading from the west. It was a time of almost frenzied fear and confusion for all Poles. As historian Mark Paul notes in Neighbours on the Eve of the Holocaust, “The hopeless predicament of such people, trapped between Hitler and Stalin, illustrates the predicament of eastern Europe as a whole . . . Many, quite literally went around in circles . . . .(Electronic Museum). In summary, in 1939, some Jewish and non-­‐Jewish Poles did see the Communist Soviets as liberators—hence, the building of the welcoming arch that Heniek speaks of. (1) Zygmunt’s father dares to hang a Polish flag outside his house as the Red Army marches by. Why doesn’t Zygmunt respect his father’s loyalty to Poland, his “fatherland?” Is this a key to understanding his character? (2) What are the Soviets doing to change the culture of Jedwabne? Do they respect Catholicism any more than Judaism? Why is Heniek so angry? Note: Militant atheism -­‐-­‐ the repression of all organized religion -­‐-­‐ was central to the ideology of Communism. “Sovietization” meant secularization. Therefore, Jedwab-­‐ne’s Catholic Club becomes the Aurora Cinema and Heniek is deeply offended. (3) Why does Jakub Katz favor the new theater? Is this truly the “dawn” of a new artistic age in Poland? (4) On the stage of the Aurora, Menachem (Director of the Cinema) plays Russian Communist poet Vladimir Mayakovsky, reciting one of his later poems, “On Being Kind to Horses.” Zocha plays the part of a fallen horse in the poem. Vladimir Mayatovsky was the most admired poet of the Russian Revolution. He described himself as a “Communist futurist” and directed his poetry to the “broad masses.” But his poetry was sophisticated, complex, and artfully crafted (despite his contempt for traditional poetic forms), and most of it was beyond the reach of the masses he spoke for. Political agitator and propagandist as well as artistic revolutionary, he became increasingly disillusioned with the course the Soviet Union was taking under Stalin. In the 1930’s, the period from which “On Being Kind to Horses” comes, his poetry reflected a growing sense of alienation, frustration, loneliness, and despair. He committed suicide in April of 1930. (5) What is the poem’s tone? Does the horse symbolize something else? Why does it fall? Has it been ridden by the powers for too long? (6) How does the narrator of the poem coax the horse back up? Are all the Poles “to some extent horses?” (7) Does the horse “buy” the poet’s consolations and encouragements? Does Jakub? Do you? (8) How does Rysiek perceive Menachem? Are the films Menachem praises great works of art? Is the “era of boredom” over? Note: Eisenstein’s October was a silent Soviet propaganda film celebrating the glories of the 1917 October revolution. Among other things, it suggested the sameness of all religions and compared the misguided fervor of patriotism to the benighted fervor of religious faith. What of the other films—“hilarious comedies”-­‐-­‐ playing at the Aurora? (In one, Charlie Chaplin’s character, the Tramp, tries to walk a tightrope besieged with monkeys.) Chaplin’s films often combined slapstick comedy and pathos. The Tramp identified with the obscure, powerless souls “who must struggle to survive in a hostile world.” He was suspected of having Communist sympathies. In 1939, Chaplin would produce and star in a film that portrayed Adolf Hitler as a “hideous grotesque.” (9) Why does Rysiek storm out of the theater? Why aren’t “two free beers” enough to palliate patriots like Rysiek? Who isn’t dancing to the Soviet Waltz? Do Menachem and Jakub notice or care? (10) Is Menachem an “idiot,” as Dora says? What does she mean? (11) Wladek says that Communism is okay with him since everyone’s “equal.” Rachelka tells him to “just shut up and dance”? Is he an idiot too? (12) Is it intelligence, naiveté, empathy, or what other quality that distinguishes the “good guys” of the play? (13) At the end of the scene, Zygmunt and Jakub clink bottles of beer and drink to a bright future, their friendship, and their class. Are they still friends? (14) What do the women’s voices contribute to this lesson? How do they deal with the tension? (15) As a waltz plays, Lesson V ends on a dissonant note. Do you blame any of these characters for what they feel and do? Is it hard to judge? Must we judge anyway? LESSON VI Disillusion with the Soviets is profound and characters’ nerves are on edge. Loyalties are strained, relationships eroding, tensions rising. Though the audience does not know it, this is the last lesson in which the class will be intact. Aristotle and Sophocles would not mind your knowing that some of these classmates will die. Greek audiences knew that Oedipus would unwittingly kill his own father “at a place where three roads meet” (fate, chance, and free will?) before it happened in the play. Why are surprise and suspense as literary devices not primary artistic concerns here? (1) Under Soviet domination, what are the consequences of hanging a Polish flag in one’s front yard? Why doesn’t Zygmunt respect his father’s patriotism? Can Zygmunt be trusted as a friend when his own safety and well-­being are at stake? How does he ingratiate himself with the Soviets? (2) Wladek claims that his love-­affair with Communism is over, that the “scales” have fallen from his eyes. Would you declare him safe from impending tragedy? (3) What does Wladek resolve to do? Does he know the cost of “starting an uprising” against the Soviets? What does his mother say? (4) Heniek says: “[W]e started an underground resistance movement called The White Eagle.” Who is “we?” (A white eagle adorns Poland’s national coat of arms. Once a symbol of Polish royalty, it became, in time, a patriotic symbol for all Polish citizens.) (5) Note the contrast between the tone of Abram’s letter from America—
hopeful, wholesome, optimistic, sane—and the prevailing tone of life in Poland. How does Abram’s voice-­from-­afar function in this play? (6) Why does Zocha marry an old man? (7) How far is Zygmunt willing to go to ensure his own welfare? What draws him to the NKVD? Note: The NKVD was the public and secret police organization of the Soviet Union, brutal and relentless in suppressing all Polish resistance to the occupation. Countless Poles were arrested, imprisoned, tortured, deported to labor camps, or massacred in large groups. Many imprisoned Poles died of illness, hunger, torture, and neglect. The NKVD relied on informants, spies, and traitors like Zygmunt for rooting out organizations like “The White Eagle.” (8) What does Rysiek plan as The White Eagle’s first act of resistance? Is he a sincere patriot? (9) Zygmunt and Rysiek get drunk, sing anti-­Semitic songs, and cry together. But what is Zygmunt (code name “Popov”) planning to do? (10) Zygmunt betrays his friend Rysiek to the NKVD. He defends his action in a predictable way: “What choice did I have?” How would you answer that question? (11) In contrast to Zygmunt’s betrayal, even under torture Rysiek refuses to betray any of his classmates to the NKVD. In such times, what makes one person choose selfless courage and another self-­serving collaboration? (12) Jakub Katz is also terrorized by the NKVD. He is asked to identify Rysiek by name and does. “What could I do?” he asks. Do you blame him? (13) Heniek and Wladek decide to lie low. Do you blame them? What else could they have done? What would you have done? (14) Rachelka speaks for those Poles whose businesses were “nation-­alized” and lives broken by “sovietization.” How do the Soviets kill her father? Why does she resolve to learn German? (15) On a very different level, Menachem is disillusioned with the Soviet commitment to art in film. How does he cope with it? Why is his and Dora’s baby doing “poorly?” Who/what can thrive in this climate? (16) Rysiek is forced to dig what he believes is his own grave. He feels overwhelmed with despair for himself, for Poland, “for everything.” Is his despair justified? Does he know who really betrayed him to the NKVD? (17) Jakub also struggles with disillusion with Communism. How is life falling apart in Poland? (18) Even Zygmunt is disillusioned. Have scales fallen from his eyes? He protests to “the Major” and declares himself out of the informant business. How does the Major respond? (19) Are moral issues presented in black and white in this play? (20) The class sings a song in unity at the end of Lesson VI declaring that “God will help those who fight for their land.” How exactly might God do that, and how long might it take? In Lesson VI, as life in Poland deteriorates, the class and all the people of Jedwabne are teetering on the edge of psychological and moral collapse. In Lesson VII, halfway through the “curriculum” of the play, they go over the edge. LESSON VII It is July of 1941. The Germans now occupy Jedwabne, having driven out the Soviets in June. In this Lesson, appalling violence erupts in Jedwabne and in the “class.” (The brutal beating to death of a Jewish man named Jakub Katz actually occurred in Jedwabne in the days leading up to the barn-­‐burning.) As the climate of fear intensifies and all Poles feel themselves more and more under siege, various “survival strategies” are tried – running, hiding, collaborating, appeasing, shape-­‐changing, betraying, etc. -­‐-­‐ as each individual struggles to cope with impending disaster. But it is worst for the Jews. As one eyewitness testified, by this time the Jews were perceived as “the source of all evil in the world,” and “No Christian let any Jew into his house or offered any help” (Neighbors 38-­39). (1) What does Jakub’s dream imply about his state of mind? To whom does he direct his question, “Who the hell opened the gate?” What gate? Note how fast his nightmare merges into reality. (2) Can Dora trust Menachem’s reassurances that “they” won’t harm her or her baby if she just keeps quiet and out of sight? Who is “they?” Note: In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the noble thane MacDuff abandons his wife and children to go to England to raise an army against the tyrant Macbeth, never dreaming that his former friend would sink to killing women and children. He learns how dangerous it is to underestimate the irrationality and barbarity of a former friend and ally.) (3) Does “Don’t get involved” succeed as a survival strategy? Why do women like Wladek’s mother and Dora advise it? (4) A rather haggard arch of welcome was built for the German army (which has since come and gone, with only a relatively few Germans holding the town now). What might that dilapidated arch symbolize? A new letter has arrived from Abram. Why doesn’t Jakub read it to his classmates when he meets them in the street? Note: The American novelist Henry James suggested that one of the most tragic themes in all of literature (and history?) is “Too late.” (Sound like Aristotle?) As a writer, he dramatized the suffering that can occur when moral awareness comes too late. In your own experience, what are the consequences of understanding another person’s motives or true intentions too late? What happens to a failing marriage, a strained friendship, or a nation at war (with itself as well as other nations) when moral clarity comes too late? (5) One critic has called Zygmunt a “protean thug.” Would you agree? Is he content for Rysiek, Heniek, and Wladek to believe that Jakub betrayed Rysiek to the NKVD and not himself? Why do they believe him so readily? (6) As Jakub relives the ordeal of his death on stage, how does Wladek -­ from the perspective of hindsight – try to exempt himself from guilt? Is he less guilty of Jakub’s death than Zygmunt and Heniek? (7) Menachem watches the barbarous violence from a hiding place. Why doesn’t he stop it? Is he, too, guilty of Jakub’s murder? Or is he just an innocent bystander? Note: In Neighbors, Jan Gross exposes the terrible reality of what really happened in Jebwadne. The actual torture and murder of 1600 Jews was carried out by perhaps no more than 80 or 90 of the town’s citizens—a gang of “hooligans,” some have called them—while the rest of the non-­‐Jewish population simply stood by and watched or ignored it. But Gross argues that this “watching” is at the heart of the atrocity. It is this willingness to keep silent, to stand by and do nothing while fellow human beings are being brutalized that makes such atrocities possible. Wolves cannot be turned back by such sheep, if sheep they were. This is an ugly truth that Poland – and all human beings – must wrestle with as we look back on the Holocaust. Could this happen again – even in America? Has it already happened? (8) How does Jakub try to “keep his head” during the attack? Do mathe-­
matical certainties or the abiding laws of nature or the distinction of his own intellectual attainments help him in the end? (9) Look up the biblical origin of the word “scapegoat.” Note: Briefly, as specified in Leviticus 16:1-­‐34, once a year, on the Day of Atonement, a goat would be cast out into an inaccessible region of the wilderness, symbolically carrying all the sins of the Israelites on its head -­‐-­‐ thus freeing the people of their accumulated guilt and shame. Does Zygmunt make a scapegoat of Jakub? What does he blame him for? What is Zygmunt’s worst sin? (10) Not long ago, Heniek led the class in a recitation of the Apostles Creed. Now he says, “I hit [Jakub] over and over again with my plank.” Christians often regard Christ as their “scapegoat” -­-­ cast out and crucified for the removal of their sins. Does Heniek make the connection? (11) Christian theologians have summarized all of Christ’s teachings in five words: “Love God. Love your neighbor.” Is Heniek a Christian? (12) Menachem runs away-­-­risks nothing to help Jakub. So why does he assume that Zocha should risk her life by hiding him in her barn? Why does she agree? (13) As Zygmunt and Rysiek vow to go after Menachem next, Wladek makes an excuse and leaves them. Unlike Menachem who demanded that Zocha hide him, Wladek now volunteers to protect Rachelka, a Jew. “I’ll hide you,” he says. Can love cross religious boundaries? Should it? (14) Is revenge ever just? Is forgiveness always possible? (15) As Lesson VI ends, Zygmunt reads Abram’s latest letter aloud. What is the effect of the warmth and normality of its tone on the murderers? On you? LESSON VIII In this very short lesson, violence takes another form. It begins with a lullaby and escalates into gang rape. (1) How do Zygmunt and Rysiek cope with the inconvenience of Menachem’s absence? Does Dora become a scapegoat? What is the logic to their attack? (2) In this scene, we see polar opposites of human personality and behavior in one individual, and how quickly the poles can reverse. Zygmunt shows a tender concern for a crying baby. Why not to its mother? (3) Does Zygmunt have any doubt about whose side God is on? Whose “side” is God on? Is the question an absurdity? (4) Is it true that Menachem has “betrayed our country and bolted?” Does Menachem consider Poland his country? Is he loyal to the Soviets? (5) By what authority does Zygmunt set himself up as Dora’s “judge?” Is he at the bottom of the “class” of 1941? What has his education taught him? (6) From a psychological standpoint, is the human brain “wired” to follow a leader blindly when overwhelmed by fear? Is there a dragon of ferocious selfishness within us that civilization only paints over? Or do empathy and kindness distinguish human nature? Both? (See Carl Sagan’s book, Dragons of Eden: Speculations on the Evolution of Human Intelligence for some interesting ideas about this!) (7) Why does Heniek call a halt to the rape? In him, unbridled sexual aggression seems to be overtaken by something like conscience, or, at least, after-­the-­
fact remorse. Why does he feel “queasy” and the others don’t? (6) By contrast, Dora shocks herself and the audience by confessing, “I felt a pleasure I’d never known.” What is going on in Dora? (7) As she looks back on the event, Dora is struck by the fragility of her identity and character. Can conscience, which judges an action morally repugnant, be over-­ridden by sexual longing? (Remember Rysiek’s Valentine?) Is her “pleasure” a biological/psychological defense mechanism, or something else? (8) Can such an “override” of conscience extend into other areas of human behavior? (9) After the men leave, Dora’s self-­respect is shattered and “everything hurts.” She recalls Rysiek’s eyes -­-­ “wild and beautiful. God.” He is covered with scars. Is she, too, scarred? (10) What pulls Dora back to the reality of who she is—or was? Note: In Herman Melville’s masterpiece, Moby Dick, a ship’s cook looks down at the thrashing waters of a shark feeding-­‐frenzy. A crewman challenges him to “preach” to the sharks to behave in a more polite and civilized manner. The cook declares that it’s an im-­‐
possible task, because sharks cannot be taught self-­‐government as human beings can. He adds another insight (in paraphrase): “An angel ain’t nothin’ but a shark well governed.” What does he mean? Is governing the “shark” of virulent self-­‐interest the key to social and moral order? Is Zygmunt an un-­‐governed shark? LESSON IX This is the “Lesson” of the barn-­‐burning, ground zero of the play and of Jedwabne’s history. Keep track of the questions that keep coming up again and again. (1) Is there still love/friendship between some of the classmates? Is Mena-­
chem worried about Dora? Does Zocha regret the risk she is taking in hiding Men-­
achem? (2) On what pretext does Zygmunt transfer his loyalties to the Germans? If you are not familiar with the word “protean,” look it up. Who was Proteus in Homer’s Odyssey? Is Zygmunt indeed a “protean thug?” (3) What happens on Main Street? What are the Jews and their Rabbi forced to do? (Slabs of the broken Lenin monument have been recently unearthed in Jedwabne.) (4) When Wladek says, “It was difficult to watch,” Heniek reproaches him for being a mere watcher. Why? For a different reason, does the play reproach us all for merely watching? But what else can an “audience” do? (5) Heniek invites Wladek to join in the beatings and humiliations. Wladek answers, “I just went over to the other side of the square and watched.” Why does Wladek refuse? Is it conscience? Cowardice? Ambivalence? Does it matter which side of the square he watches from? Note: Look up the “Parable of the Good Samaritan“ in the New Testament, found in Luke 10: 29-­‐37. In Jesus’ time, Jews and Samaritans hated each other. Yet in this parable, a Samaritan helps a Jew who has been beaten and left for dead by the side of the road. This parable helped Jesus’ followers understand what he meant by “Love your neighbor”—not just those who are like you, but all human beings. Does this parable apply to this scene in the play? Wladek, a Christian, thinks to himself, “Christ . . . what’s happening here?” Is his profanity ironic? (6) Are these kinds of things happening only in Jedwabne? (7) Rachelka begs Wladek to find her mother and sisters and hide them too. He says he will try. Why doesn’t he? What question does he ask the audience? (8) What’s going on in the barn? Who is in charge? Are any Germans taking part in this massacre? Note: A Klezmer Band is playing a tango popular in Poland in the 1930’s, “Burnt By the Sun,” which might also be translated as “Wearied By the Sun.” Composed by Polish songwriter Jerzy Petersburski, its lyrics describe the final meeting of former lovers before they part forever. As tensions in Poland rose, it became known as the “Suicide Tango,” the “perfect background music for an officer who wanted to shoot himself in the head.” (9) Who kills the Rabbi? How? “Watch and learn, son,” Sielewa says to Rysiek as he slits the Rabbi’s throat from ear to ear—a teacher in the class-­room at last! Is Slobodzianek saying the same thing to us? Watch and learn? What is the lesson? (10) Must we accept such outbreaks of cruelty as part of “human nature?” Or are they the negation of it? To what degree has human nature departed from the “tooth and claw” of nature? Note: What was Social Darwinism? How was it used to justify “might-­‐makes-­‐right” practices such as slavery, colonialism, imperialism, and the Final Solution? By this philosophy, “undesirables” -­‐–the weak and the unfit—“deserve” to be weeded out (and, conveniently, their homes, land, and resources seized). (11) Heniek withdraws from the scene and returns to the Main Square where Dora is being forced to “weed” with a spoon while her neighbors laugh and joke. Why don’t these old Polish grandmothers sympathize with her baby’s terrible thirst? (12) Dora begs Zocha to take her baby and hide him. Zocha refuses the “Jew brat” and offers Dora a flippant false hope. After Dora tells her about the rape, Zocha wanders away in a fog. “I felt dizzy . . . I went home.” What question does she ask herself on her way home? What makes her dizzy? (13) Menachem’s question about Dora’s whereabouts is met with a question from Zocha. Is this the easiest way to lie? (14) What reasons do the Poles give at the very last minute for marching the Jews into the barn? (“Christ-­killers,” etc.) Why can’t Dora understand these reasons? Do you? (15) Dora appeals to Rysiek, her old classmate (whom she loves?), for mercy. What is his response? What question does he ask? How would you answer it? (16) Abram’s voice-­from-­America enters like a ray of light. Why now? (17) Heniek and Zygmunt quibble about numbers—“Hardly even a thousand.” Is the exact number of Jews who dies in the barn important? (As Jewish educator Dr. Rachel Korazim might say, “It matters if corpse #1600 was your mother.”) (18) Did the Jews enter the barn passively? (19) What was “that Midget Wasilewski’s” job? What trick does Zygmunt play on him—“just for a giggle?” Is Zygmunt a sociopath? How does one recognize a sociopath? (20) Dora narrates the Jews’ agonizing last moments. Every male classmate (except Abram) has betrayed or attacked her, and her friend Zocha has walked away from her. What is her last question? For a larger perspective on Zocha’s question -­‐-­‐ “Is this life?” -­‐-­‐ read Primo Levi’s book, If This is a Man (or Survival in Auschwitz), his account of 20 months spent in Ausch-­‐
witz observing human nature in the most degrading and desperate of circumstances. (21) Was there terrible suffering in Poland outside of the death camps? At the end of this harrowing “Lesson,” all the classmates living and dead unite in a song to the sun, even though all sources of light and consolation have gone dark or silent for them. Only Zocha speaks God’s name at all, as she confesses that, to this day, she has not forgotten the screams of her burning neighbors in the barn. But she does not utter “God” in prayer or invocation. LESSON X The “horrific” barn-­‐burning is over. The grisly business of burying the victims is over. But the play is far from over. We have five more lessons to go, and they will be long and difficult “classes.” It would be tempting to be a “drop-­‐out” here, to say we’ve seen enough and ask to be excused. Slobodzianek (playwright-­‐as-­‐teacher?) says, “Stay seated.” (1) Burying Dora and her baby – “un-­chopped up” – and watching Poles yank gold out of corpses’ teeth -­-­ make Wladek physically ill. What saves him from total nervous breakdown? (2) Are you surprised when Zygmunt fails to condemn Wladek for marrying a Jew? “The heart’s its own master,” he says magnanimously. By what reasoning does he tolerate such inconsistency? Are all Jews “Christ-­killers, Commies, devils”-­-­or are they human beings whom one might love and marry? (3) What one condition of the marriage does Zygmunt presume to make? Does he think about the meaning of this condition for Rachelka? What difference will this make in her public and personal identity? (4) Zygmunt’s hypocrisy is blatant. Why is he suddenly so warm in his attitude toward Wladek as his classmate? (“Your classmate is your family, maybe even more important than that.”) Why didn’t this sentimental attachment extend to Dora and Jakub? (5) What accounts for Wladek’s mother’s reaction to the “happy news?” (6) Is Rachelka happy to be “saved?” Are there ironies too bitter for her to express – or even face? (7) How can Wladek still see Zygmunt, Rysiek, and Heniek as friends? Should one’s motto be, “My friend—right or wrong—my friend?” (8) As Heniek drills the catechism into Rachelka’s memory, he comes down hard on her for forgetting the fifth Commandment , “Thou shalt not kill.” Then he casually mentions the priest’s payment for the wedding—“six cubic meters of rye,” a lot of grain for one person in these desperate times. How can Heniek be so blind to the priest’s and his own hypocrisy? Do they represent the Roman Catholic Church in Poland during the war? (9) Heniek calls Wladek an “absolute donkey?” Is Heniek capable of rational thought? Is he another “idiot”—a religious wind-­up toy? (10) Rachelka and Wladek’s mother try to give meaning to this wedding. Does it work? (11) Does changing Rachelka’s name to Marianna change Rachelka? What’s in a name? Note: Look up the meaning of both names. Who was Rachel in the Book of Genesis in the Tanakh? What was the cause of her “lamentation and bitter weeping” in the book of Jeremiah? Is she a ghost in Jeremiah? Is Rachelka becoming a ghost of herself? Though “Marianna” may seem to reference Mary and Anna, the mother and grandmother of Jesus, Marianna in Hebrew means “sea of bitterness.” Appropriate? (12) Can Wladek be serious when he says “We were all upbeat” on the way to the wedding? How does the bride feel? (13) Who comes to the wedding? Has Our Class become a ghost story? (14) Zygmunt exhibits coldness, arrogance, and hypocrisy. Yet he says, “Maybe everything will turn out for the best” as he toasts the couple, adding in the same breath that (too bad) the bride is now an orphan, but that (don’t worry) everything will be remembered. Is “Mazel Tov!” said in earnest? (15) There is a ghost in the barn when Rachelka/Marianna return to Wladek’s house. Or is there? Why can’t Rachelka’s mother come to the wedding as a ghost like the dead classmates? (16) What is the significance of the gift/loot-­giving? Is one silver candlestick enough? Whose was it? Can Wladek and Rachelka build a home on such a found-­
ation? (17) Wladek calls for singing and dancing the “Dona Clara,” an upbeat Polish tango popular in Berlin in the 1930’s. As Zygmunt and Zocha dance (how can she?), Dora’s ghost asks Rysiek to dance. Why does he react so violently? Note: Given the attraction between Dora and Rysiek all along, was it really Menachem and the baby that stood in their way, or something else? What holds Rysiek back now? (18) What question does Jakub’s ghost ask Zygmunt? Is Jakub right that “You can never bury the past?” Note: In his novel Requiem for a Nun, part of a multi-­‐volume portrait of American slavery from Indian days to the 20th century, American Nobel Prize-­‐winner William Faulkner wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Would Slobodzianek agree? (16) If Shakespeare and Chaucer were right that “Murder will out,” how much “outing” remains to be done with respect to these characters? With respect to the Holocaust? LESSON XI Love crosses religious lines again in this play. Zocha has been attracted to Menachem since grade school; she married Oles only after Menachem married Dora (after Dora told him she was pregnant). Zocha’s life has not been easy. Yet she is sensitive to Rachelka’s misery and the “awfulness” of her wedding to a man she does not love. As she and Menachem make “careful” love, the scene switches to Marianna’s and Wladek’s joyless wedding night. (1) How does Wladek speak to Rachelka after sex? Why is he surprised that she is a virgin? Note the turn of her thoughts, from suicidal despair to fragile hopefulness: “The Jews have come through before . . .survived worse than this.” How much worse will it get? Note: The Final Solution was not fully implemented until 1942. (2) How does Menachem relieve the boredom of his hiding in Zocha’s barn? Is there comic relief in this? (3) Is Marianna trying to be Marianna? Why does she make the effort? (4) What are Rysiek and Zygmunt doing these days? Is Rysiek truly a Schutzmann (a native Pole working for the Nazis)? Is Zygmunt ? (5) Why is Zygmunt so eager to betray Marianna to the Germans after dancing at her wedding? (“Orders are orders, ” he says.) Classmates are classmates? (6) Wladek’s mother repeats the same line – “Orders are orders.” Think back to Heniek’s drilling Marianna on the fundamentals of his Christian faith—“Thou shalt not kill.” Are Commandments Commandments? (7) For the second time, Wladek saves his Jewish wife from death. Is he a true hero in this play? Is he also an anti-­Semite? (8) What is Rysiek’s last word? How is the afterlife portrayed in this play? (9) Zocha gives Wladek and Marianna a place to hide. Is she a heroine? Why does Menachem not reveal himself to them? (10) Does Zygmunt express any sorrow at the deaths of Rysiek and Wladek’s mother? Is he incapable of sympathy/empathy? (11) Do you blame Wladek’s extended family for turning him and his Jewish wife away? Would you have taken them in? (12) The young married couple (Marianna pregnant with their first child) hide out in ditches and ravines. How does Wladek entertain them? Note: The “Sienkiewicz Trilogy” was a series of novels by Nobel Prize-­‐winning Polish author Henryk Sienkiewicz that portrayed great events in Poland’s 17th-­‐century history. It mixed fact and fiction, history and myth. Do people often prefer facts mixed with fiction in remembering the past? Are we tempted to edit our memories to make them more coherent, endurable, flattering, entertaining? Is the modern “docu-­‐drama” comparable? What danger is there in fictionalizing history to make it more entertaining? (13) What is Wladek’s and Marianna’s dream of happiness? Do you have hope for it? (14) Does Zocha poison her husband? Is it just as well? (15) Does Wladek kill his “beautiful, perfect” baby daughter? Is it just as well? Are such grim measures necessary in this world? (16) After the war (“everything smashed up, plundered, broken”), how does Zygmunt patch things up with Wladek? Is all forgiven? Is it just as well? (17) Wladek and Marianna are made “barren” by war—no more children. With the war over, Wladek gives Marianna her freedom. She could leave him and return to being Rachelka. Why doesn’t she? Does Marianna’s old name suit her even better now? How is “Rachel” referenced in the New Testament in the Gospel of Matthew 2:18? (18) What is the significance of the song at the end of this scene? Only in these songs do the classmates achieve anything like the unity of the first lesson. But is their song an example of selective memory? Is there comfort in returning to the old pride of patriotism? After all the dust (human and otherwise) of the war settles, the lovely river Vistula still flows through the sleepy ancient town of Torun where Copernicus was born—a Pole who challenged the way people saw the heavens. Will Poland do that again? LESSON XII Ironically, Poland’s liberation from German domination depended on the despised Soviet Union. As noted in Poland: A Country Study (Glenn Curtis, ed.), despite the Soviets’ refusal to support the Polish Home Army’s rebellion against the Germans in 1944 (literally standing by and watching the Germans crush it and then destroy 90% of Warsaw), the Red Army expelled the last German troops from Poland in March 1945. The war in Europe ended a few weeks later. A new government was installed in Poland, “reluctantly blessed by the Allies,” but dominated by communists from the beginning. “Poland became a socialist state modeled on the Soviet Union . . .despite the evident wishes of the overwhelming majority of the Polish nation” (Curtis). Those who favored a democratic government were undermined and barred from gaining seats in Parliament. The Soviet Union would claim Poland as a satellite state until 1991. If you were a Pole who lived in Jedwabne after the war, what would be more difficult for you: forgetting what happened, or remembering? (1) Is Zygmunt a changed man after the war ends? (2) Why does Zocha “let” Zygmunt rape her? What is his pretext for hunting Menachem down? Is there another reason? (3) What two resolutions does Menachem make for putting the horror of the war behind him and Zocha? Do you have hope for their new beginning? (4) In a letter to Abram, Zygmunt breaks the news of the murder of his entire family and of all the Jews of Jedwabne “by those Nazi beasts.” Why does he open communication with Abram now? (5) Menachem says, “We have to swear off revenge.” Why? Note: See Leviticus 19:18 and 19:34 about seeking personal retribution and bearing grudges against fellow Jews—or even against “strangers.” For Jews who survived the war, could/should these passages have any bearing on what they have suffered? See also Exodus 21:21-­‐27 and Deuteronomy 32:35. (“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”) (6) Is “an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, burn for burn, wound for wound” an adequate definition of justice? Is such justice possible after the war? How else might justice be defined? (7) Zygmunt asks Abram for money toward a memorial “to commemorate this terrible event.” What do you think he would do with the money if Abram sent it? (8) Who was “Abram” in the Tanakh? Note: Slobodzianek chose the names of his characters carefully. In the Book of Genesis, a descendent of Noah named Abram is called by God to be the founder of a great nation, a people specially chosen by God for a special destiny. God promises him that his descendents will number “as the stars in heaven.” His name is changed to Abraham when he is 99 years old; only then does his “barren” wife, Sarah, bear him a son, Isaac. Today, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all claim Abraham as their father. In Our Class, the loss of all of Abram’s relatives seems to mock the promise made by God to Abraham-­‐-­‐six million of his descendents wiped off the face of the earth, a thousand times the number of visible stars in the night sky. (9) Why do Menachem and Zocha agree to abort their baby? Can new life take root in these ruins? If they agreed on the necessity of the abortion, why do things “sour” between them after it is done? (10) Menachem borrows money from a Soviet officer’s mistress (who is rich with loot from a Jewish ghetto), to send Zocha ahead of him to America. How does he mean to earn the money he needs to follow her? Where are the “richest pickings?” (11) Who helps Zocha in America? When Zygmunt’s true character is revealed, what does Abram do? Are his questions to Poland’s government and the Catholic church ever answered? (12) The song that all the classmates sing at the end of this scene harks back to Sienkiewicz’s trilogy of “yesterday’s glories” in Poland’s history—“bricks we can build on.” What can they build on yesterday’s atrocities? LESSON XIII It is 1948. The next-­‐to-­‐last lesson of Our Class takes place against a background of “Cold War” conflict between the Soviet Union (with its dependent eastern and central European countries, including Poland) and western Europe, Canada, and the United States, who will soon form an alliance (in 1949) -­‐-­‐ the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) -­‐-­‐ for collective defense against Soviet expansion. The term “Iron Curtain” that Zocha uses in Lesson XIII refers to the political, military, and ideological barriers that sealed off the Soviet bloc from NATO countries between 1945 and 1990. Poland would join NATO in 1999. In Lesson XIII, Poland is far from “at peace.” Nazi tyranny has been replaced by Soviet domination. Though Poland appears to be a “model” socialist state engaged in post-­‐war restoration, there is much social unrest, resentment, and underground resistance. (In the parliamentary election of 1947, opposition candidates were all but eliminated; within the next two years, communists monopolized power – which meant renewed persecution of the Roman Catholic Church, censorship, agricultural collectivization, “strict subordination to the Soviet Union,” and “blatant distortion of history” (Curtis). “By 1948, the communists [had] established a regime entirely under their domination” (Avi Ben-­‐Hur). When Lesson XIII opens, the Secret Police are engaged in an official inquiry into what happened in Jedwabne in 1941. Menachem is summoned by his old Colonel to run the investigation. He is given a code name and specifically ordered to get the men who raped and murdered his wife, Dora – Zygmunt, Heniek, and Wladek -­‐-­‐ his old classmates. (1) Why does Menachem agree to take this job? Has he forgotten about leaving Poland and joining Zocha in America? Why? (2) How is Zocha getting on? How does she respond to American stereotypes of Poles? Why is she hostile to the hospitable Jewish intellectuals who take her in? (3) Why does she marry Janusz, a virtual stranger? (4) Is Abram right when he defends American Jewish intellectuals, saying, “What could they have done during the war? What could any of us done?” (5) Does Abram feel any guilt for surviving? Note: French philosopher, theologian, and physicist Blaise Pascal wrote: “The heart has reasons which reason knows not.” What did he mean? (6) Zygmunt is now living in the murdered rabbi’s house. He is arrested, handcuffed, and interrogated by Menachem, whose rage explodes. Remember that, some years before, Menachem said, “We must swear off revenge.” Has he changed his mind? Do you want to see justice done to Zygmunt? What form should it take? (7) Zygmunt confirms what Jan Gross wrote in Neighbors—that, after the war, many Poles blamed the atrocities they committed on the Germans. If they thought such action “right” during the war, why not claim responsibility for it now? (8) Heniek , who is now a priest, is arrested and interrogated by Menachem. How does his pious “turning the other cheek” to Menachem’s blows impress you? Who stops Menachem from beating Heniek? Where does power lie in Poland? (9) Wladek is arrested and comes before Menachem. They speak to each civilly, as classmates. Why is Wladek willing to say who killed Jakub Katz? (10) Zygmunt confesses under torture. But what happens at the trial? Why will none of these classmates tell the truth when it matters? Why does Marianna go so far as to protect Zygmunt and Heniek? Is she protecting anyone else? (11) Was it easy living in Poland in 1948? Was it easy living there in 2000, when Neighbors was published -­-­ or in November 2011 when residents of Jedwabne woke up to see the memorial to the Jews vandalized, with swastikas painted on it? (12) Is burying, denying, or fictionalizing the past a good way to “move on?” Why not if it works? (13) Will the death of all survivors/witnesses in Jedwabne be the only “healing?” Or will the consequences of such a crime extend through succeeding generations? How many generations? Note: In the Tanakh, one reads in several passages, including the second Command-­‐
ment, that the sins of the fathers will be visited on the children to the 3rd and 4th generations (see Exodus 20: 5; Numbers 14:18; and Deuteronomy 5:9.) Is this a divine threat or a statement of psychological reality? Will the imprint of the Holocaust soon fade from the collective memory of its living descendants? How long will it continue to do damage? What of the silenced collective memory of those who didn’t survive? Who can assess that loss? As Jan Gross writes in his opening paragraph of Neighbors, “[T]he loss of life for which [Hitler and Stalin] are jointly responsible is truly staggering.” He goes on to quote Paulina Preis: “[A] truer measure of totalitarianism’s destructiveness is in the sum of unwritten books . . . the sum of thoughts unthought, of unfelt feelings, of works never accomplished, of lives unlived to their natural end.’” And, one might add, of children and grandchildren unborn. And of their children and grandchildren unborn. The loss is infinite. LESSON XIV This 14th lesson is the play’s “denouement”— the winding down of the play’s “plot” and the tying up of loose ends -­‐-­‐ or, in this case, the further fraying of them. In Our Class, the denouement leaves us with the most qualified of happy endings. At the end of J.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings (which some critics regard as a parable of World War II), the heroic protagonist, Frodo, has won countless exhausting battles and overcome unspeakable physical suffering; he is a survivor. But over time, it becomes apparent that he is too deeply wounded in mind and spirit to return to normal life. Is this the case with the characters in Our Class? Are there any exceptions? In film, when the main action of a screenplay is over, there may be a kind of “Coda” in which watchers learn what finally happened to each of the characters. Lesson XIV also functions in this way. One critic of Our Class has suggested that this last Lesson deepens our awareness of the ongoing damage of the Holocaust. These characters are so wounded, so haunted by guilt, shame, grief, and/or regret that they seem cursed for the rest of their lives. This Lesson brings us into the 21st century. (1) What is Menachem doing now? What is “the dirtiest of jobs?” (2) Zygmunt is sentenced to 15 years in prison and filled with self-­pity and fear for his wife and children. Has he ever given a thought to all the Jewish families he shattered or helped erase from the earth? How does he manage to get out of prison early? (3) Why is Menachem given the option of leaving Poland forever? Why does he choose Israel instead of America? (4) Why does Zygmunt join the United Polish Labour Party? Has he left the past behind? Note: This Party was the governing communist party in the People’s Republic of Poland from 1948 to 1989. It controlled the Secret Police, the military, the arts, media, and economy. As a member, Zygmunt poses as a good friend, family man, and comrade for the next 15 years. His daughters marry well. He is proud that his son refuses to have anything to do with the Student Uprising of 1968 against Communist oppression but rather “keeps his head down” and puts personal ambition first. Like father like son? (5) By what means is Heniek made parish priest in his hometown, Jedwabne? Has he left the past behind? Note: In the New Testament, when Jesus preached to the people of his hometown, Nazareth, where he grew up, he was soundly rejected. Who did this local boy think he was to preach to them? In Matthew 13:57, Jesus comments, saying that a prophet is “not without honor—except in his own country.” By contrast, Heniek says, “Only amongst his own people can a [priest] truly spread his wings.” Is he even faintly aware of the contradiction? (6) Zocha tries to rebuild her life in America. She has two children, works as a seamstress, and “muddles along.” Has she left the past behind? Why does Abram discourage Menachem from getting in touch with her? (7) Menachem marries a Sephardi Jew, “Ruth,” in Israel and has a healthy son whom he names Jakub. He works as a mechanic and builds his own house. Has he left the past behind? (8) Heniek and Zygmunt are close friends/allies. (You scratch my back . . . ) Why does Heniek suddenly bring up Zygmunt’s betrayal of Rysiek to the Soviets? Zygmunt doesn’t welcome this confession of loyalty-­no-­matter-­what. Why not? (9) Wladek also tries to discuss the past with Zygmunt: “How do you sleep, Zygmunt?” How does Zygmunt respond? How does he sleep? (10) Abram tells Zocha the “wonderful news” that she has been named a “Righteous Gentile” by Yad Vashem in Israel for hiding Jews during the war. She will receive a medal naming her “Righteous Among the Nations.” Who has arranged this and why? Note: “Righteous Among the Gentiles” is an official title awarded by Yad Vashem, the Memorial and World Center for Holocaust Studies in Jerusalem. It awards the title to non-­‐Jews who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holo-­‐
caust. The medal depicts two hands clutching a rescue line spun from barbed wire. That line enfolds the globe, signifying that it is the power of compassionate hu-­‐
manity that turns the world. The globe is surrounded by an inscription in Hebrew, “Whoever saves one life, it is as if he saved an entire universe.” <yadvashem.org> (11) Why does this medal bring Zocha so little comfort? (12) Zygmunt never stops trying to “bring Menachem to justice.” How does he define justice? (13) In 1967, Menachem is a captain in the Israeli army. What happened in Israel in 1967? What was the Six-­‐Day War? Who won it? (14) Both Zygmunt and Menachem lose their only sons. Menachem’s son dies trying to save one of his classmates (they are being fired upon by terrorists using Russian assault rifles). Is the Holocaust over? Zygmunt’s son, Jurek, dies in a boating accident during a “savage storm. ” All of his friends/classmates make it to shore except him. No one tries to save him and he could not save himself. Is this an every-­man-­for-­himself situation? There seems to be no justice in these boys’ identical fates. ARE their fates identical? (15) What is the date of Jurek’s death? Coincidence? (16) Is Zygmunt capable of love? What kind? What happens to his wife? (17) Heniek’s professional pride knows no bounds. How is his funeral sermon for Jurek “monstrous?” Does he make a mockery of the story of Abraham and Isaac? (18) Are there any other parallels between the generations? (19) Why does Menachem’s wife, Ruth, leave him? Note: Her action is similar to Job’s wife in the Book of Job in the Tanakh. When all their children are taken from them, she tells Job to “curse God and die.” Job tells her that one’s faith in God cannot be reserved for good times only, but for all times. In bitter grief, she leaves him. It is perhaps ironic that Menachem’s wife should be named “Ruth,” another important character in the Jewish Bible. In the book of Ruth, Ruth loses her husband, brother-­‐in-­‐law, and father-­‐in-­‐law all at once, leaving her and her mother-­‐in-­‐law alone and destitute. Though given her freedom to return to her people (she is a Moabite), Ruth refuses to abandon her mother-­‐in-­‐law (who changes her name to “Mara”—meaning “bitter” or “one whom God has forsaken”). She turns loss into renewal and hope. Menachem’s wife seems to have taken the opposite course, the road of Mara, unable or unwilling to turn her terrible loss to any good. (20) Menachem wants to flush out terrorists—to take revenge on those who killed his son. Why is he denied his request? (21) Does Zygmunt ever repent of his war crimes? What happens to him just before his death? (22) Why does Menachem head toward Masada after the Yom Kippur war? Does he mean to kill himself? What happened at Masada? Note: Yom Kippur, or Day of Atonement, the “Sabbath of Sabbaths,” is the holiest day of the Jewish year. It is preceded by a time of self-­‐examination, confession and repentance; Jews seek to amend their behavior and seek forgiveness for sins committed against God and other human beings. Is the weight of sin against God and man represented by the Holocaust too heavy for Menachem to bear? Is it too extreme to be forgiven? Is suicide the only course open to him? (In 73 C.E., nearly a thousand Jewish rebels who refused to submit to Roman occupation committed suicide on Masada, an ancient fortress overlooking the Dead Sea.) (23) Does Heniek’s piety ever see through itself? What is the origin of the phrase “Memento Mori?” (24) What has happened to Wladek’s youthful romantic heroism? How is his marriage holding up? (25) Is it fitting that Zygmunt’s headstone should be made of black marble? (26) Early in the Solidarity movement (1981), Zocha returns to Poland. How has it fared under 35 years of Soviet rule? Note: Solidarity, founded in 1980 under the leadership of electrician Lech Walesa, was the first independent labor union to exist anywhere in the Soviet bloc. Though re-­‐
pressed by the Polish government for 8 years, it became the voice of resistance to com-­‐
munist suppression and reemerged in 1989 to become the dominant voice in national government. Walesa was elected president of Poland in 1990. (27) What is Marianna’s deepest regret? (28) What does the memorial stone at the cemetery in Jedwabne say about the barn-­burning? (29) To return to Aristotle’s definition of tragedy—“awareness and moral clarity gained too late”—is Heniek a tragic figure or a pathetic one? Does he ever see his own hypocrisy or the price of his unremarkable success? (30) The name “Zocha” means “wisdom.” Is her decision to abandon her strained relationship with her daughters and withdraw into a Catholic retirement home a wise one? What consolation does she find there? Note: St. Therese of Lisieux was content to live a hidden life and wanted, above all, “to be unknown.” Is this a key to Zocha’s withdrawal from life? How does her life end? (31) Are any of the “slanders” against Heniek’s character true? Regarding the barn-­burning, he proposes making “a partial confession” to his Bishop. What part would he leave out? (32) Wladek is the one who finally tells “what really happened” in Jedwabne. What is Heniek’s objection? Is Wladek just seeking a little celebrity? Why do he and Marianna leave town in the middle of the night? (33) Wladek and Marianna withdraw into a nursing home near Warsaw. Are they hiding? (34) Wladek is dying of cancer. What keeps him alive until 2001? (35) Heniek chooses to not attend the dedication of the new memorial to the murdered Jews of Jedwabne (“a ridiculous spectacle”). Who does attend? Does Heniek represent the entire Catholic church of Jedwabne? Of Poland? In fact, over 3000 people attended the dedication, including Poland’s president. (36) What further information about the Rabbi of Jedwabne (in 1941) do we learn from Heniek’s and Abram’s last conversation? Whom did the Rabbi bless as he walked into the barn carrying the Torah? What was his dying prayer? Note: The “Kiddush Hashem” that the Rabbi recited in the barn before his death refers to three ways of sanctifying God’s name: by obeying the Commandments, by perceiving all of life as holy, and by giving up one’s life, if necessary, rather than taking another life or betraying one’s faith in God. The Rabbi also quoted from the book of Deuteronomy, chapter 6, verse 5: “You shall love God with all your heart, all your life, all your strength.” In the New Testament, when asked what one must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus quoted this same passage—and a second one, Leviticus 19:18—“Love your neighbor as yourself” as the sum of all the law. How do Heniek and the Rabbi compare as spiritual leaders? Who truly loved his neighbors in 1941? (37) Are Heniek’s “hallucinations” induced by the drugs he’s taking for pain? Note that, unlike the Rabbi, on the eve of his death, he is filled with dread that “There is no God.” How deep is Heniek’s faith? (38) Wladek dreams, or imagines, or actually experiences the presence of Rysiek, who embraces him. Why does that embrace make Wladek break into sobs? (39) Did Marianna ever love Wladek? Why does she not want “Rachelka” on her headstone? Did Rachelka die a long time ago? (40) Did Abram escape the Holocaust? Why does he write to Marianna? (41) What did Abram once tell Jakub Katz about faith, endurance, and the meaning of life? Is there yet some bewilderment in him? (42) Marianna resigns herself to the impossibility of reading Abram’s handwriting—and to all the wasted and useless efforts of human beings to com-­
municate with each other. She disappears into television. Why Animal Planet? (43) Abram has the next-­to-­last word in the play. In his last letter to the un-­
reading Rachelka, he tells her that his wife has died, and that his ”whole family” gathered on Mount Hebron to bury her. Can “whole” have two meanings here? Abram’s family is huge, healthy, and growing. Does this signify a renewal of his family tree and of Israel’s hope in the promised land of America? Is he still Rachelka’s devoted classmate and friend, regardless of which name she uses? (44) Does this triumph of Abram qualify as a happy ending to this play? Or does it just help to dull the pain? (45) For the last time, all ten classmates unite in song. What is their last word to the audience? What in life that can be counted on? Earth’s astronomical orient-­
ation? The four directions? The certainty of sunrise? Are these all? (46) In the last scene, Wladek says, “I have always believed that truth would triumph in the end.” Has it in this play? Has it in Poland and elsewhere in the world since the Holocaust? (47) Where have Slobodzianek’s lessons been leading you? Are you less blind to the Holocaust than you were before? More aware? (48) We cannot avert the mammoth tragedy, we cannot save the dead with our new awareness. What can we do? Conclusion At the beginning of Neighbors, Jan Gross quotes from Abraham Lincoln’s message to Congress in December 1862: “Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history.” Lincoln corro-­‐
borates the epigraph at the beginning of this study guide, that “no one quite survived” the war against Nazi Germany (Kovaly, quoted in Neighbors). The past is not even past. We dare not try to forget it in order to escape it or we may be “condemned to repeat it.” Yet we cannot be trapped in it either. We cannot build on the bricks of atrocities. But we can build on the countless stories of heroism, courage, endurance, faith and grace that are also a part of the Holocaust story-­‐-­‐and on the great art and literature that it inspires. Yet, as Wilfred Owen said, “All a poet can do is warn.” Irrational hatred, prejudice, violence, fanaticism, and barbarity can and will erupt again if we are not careful. If Melville was right that angels are nothing but sharks well governed, we must be aware of our responsibility to move toward the angel in ourselves and away from the shark. As Pascal wrote, “I must seek my dignity . . . from the government of my thought. I shall have no more if I possess worlds.” And from the Torah: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” APPENDIX A Jan Gross’s book, Neighbors, on which much of Our Class is based, was first published in Poland in 2000. Since then, there has been much controversy surrounding his call for a “whole new historiography”-­‐-­‐a new way of reading and writing history, specifically the destruction of the Jewish community in Jedwabne, but also other events of the Holocaust. Neighbors “rubbed against difficult old and new issues of Polish social memory and national identity.” But as Gross sought to shed new light on how Poles responded to the Nazi occupation, many Poles were understandably reluctant to stand in that light. Reactions were varied, opinions mixed. Some expressed shock; for others it was an occasion of “painful reckoning.” Over the ensuing years, discussion has been rich and complex and continues to this day. Many journalists, historians, intellectuals, Catholic clergy, politicians, and others—both inside and outside of Poland—have responded. For a collection of some of these responses, see The Neighbors Respond: The Controversy Over the Jedwabne Massacre in Poland, edited by Antony Polonsky and Joanna B. Michlic, Princeton University Press, 2004. Jan Gross has responded to his critics, and one of his responses is included in The Neighbors Respond. We would recommend a second article, clear and brief, by Gross, called simply A Response, published in Slavic Review, Vol. 61, No. 3 (Autumn 2002). URL: www.jstor.org/stable/3090298
APPENDIX B A Brief Historical Survey of Anti-­‐Semitism: From Antiquity to the Modern Age by Avi Ben-­‐Hur The Origins: Pagan anti-­‐Semitism: Coined the "oldest hatred in the world" anti-­‐Semitism's origins can be traced to pre-­‐Christian, pagan times 2400 years ago in the Hellenistic period. As Alexander the Great conquered the world in the 4th century BC, he introduced a new concept known as syncretism. The central idea was the unity of humanity. Various civilizations could either meld with each other or have mutual respect for each other's customs. One way this was expressed was through a liberal view of religion. If Zeus was the chief god of the Greek pantheon, then Odin (the Norse chief god) or Jupiter (the Roman chief god) or Ba'al (the Canaanite chief god) were different names for the same entity. In this way of thinking, it was perfectly acceptable to offer sacrifices or gifts in foreign temples. Alexander the Great served as a personal example of his ideology by actively marrying women who were not of Greek or Macedonian origin and encouraged the men serving with him to do the same. He also adopted some of the trappings of the surrounding cultures including foreign dress. From Alexander's perspective, the policy or ideology of syncretism was an effective way to achieve the loyalty of conquered peoples and to pave the way to efficiently govern an expanding empire. The Jews were the only people in antiquity to reject Hellenistic civilization's basic tenets. In Judaism, there was no pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, but rather a unique belief in one God, who was the sole creator of all mankind. Jews rejected the notion that Zeus could be just another name for the "One God". Jewish religious precepts eschewed intermarriage with foreign peoples and ridiculed pagan idolatry. The dietary laws found in the Old Testament, created an immediate barrier to any significant social intercourse between Jews and gentiles. If the most basic social interaction humans had (and have) began with breaking bread together, this was made impossible, as Jews would not eat with gentiles. Finally, the Jews were the only people in antiquity that maintained an exclusive claim to a land that had been divinely given to them. The very concept that God had promised and delivered the Land of Israel to the Jewish people was a unique phenomenon in the pagan/Hellenistic world which did not leave room for moderate co-­‐existence between Jews and pagans living there in close proximity. All of the aforementioned Jewish rejections of the pagan world in general and of Hellenism in particular, put them on a collision course with the surrounding gentile environment. From a pagan perspective, the Jews were considered a people that hated humanity, were intolerant of foreign gods and were deemed as fanatics. The first major historical instance of "anti-­‐Semitism" took place in the first half of the 2nd century BC, with the Seleucid persecution of the Jews in the Land of Israel as portrayed in the Books of Maccabees. In addition to edicts prohibiting the Jews from following their religious practices, we read about mutual attacks of Pagans and Jews around the country, which resulted in massacres. The Jewish historian Josephus (1st Century AD) tells of many clashes between Jews and pagans over the course of 300 years, which came to a head with the outbreak of the Great Revolt of the Jews against the Romans (66-­‐73 AD). Tacitus, a Roman historian and a contemporary of Josephus, wrote terrible things about the Jews in his "Histories": "The Jews regard as profane all that we hold sacred; on the other hand, they permit all that we abhor . . . the Jews are extremely loyal to one another, and are always ready to show compassion, but toward every other people they feel only hate and enmity. They sit apart at meals, and they sleep apart, and although as a race they are prone to lust, they abstain from intercourse with foreign women. The earliest lesson they receive is to despise the gods, to disown their country, and to regard their parents, children and brothers as of little account . . ." With the emergence of Christianity in the 1st century AD, anti-­‐Jewish attitudes became an integral part of Church theology. Christian anti-­‐Judaism: Christianity originally arose as a sect within Judaism. Jesus was a practicing Jew, as were all of his disciples. Early on in Christian history, the Jesus Movement turned its primary missionary activities towards the Pagan world. In a move designed to differentiate between the new Christian faith and its Jewish forebear, Paul made major changes in the tenets of the religion, rejecting the need for circumcision, the adherence to dietary laws, etc. As early Christianity became more popular and set out to compete with Judaism, there was a need to emphasize their differences, especially towards their main target audience – the Roman pagan world. One way of doing this was to latch on to some of the negative imagery and feelings that the Pagans harbored towards the Jews and to integrate these into Christian theology. Jews were portrayed as a people that had rejected the Messiah and had murdered God. After Christianity became the official state religion of the Roman Empire in the 4th century AD and it gained political ascendancy over the Jews, it was possible to legally keep Jews from holding positions of power or authority in the Empire. Early Christian thinkers searched for ways to reconcile the continuous existence of the Jewish nation even after the victory of Christianity. St. Augustine was the first to articulate church dogma regarding the treatment of the Jews. As he posited it, Jews were a hated people that had rejected the Messiah, but since God did not permit murder, they could not be eliminated in a violent fashion. The Jews needed to be kept at bay, in a permanent state of physical and economical disadvantage to serve as an example to the world of what happened to a people that rejected God. "The Church believed that the Jews had rejected God and had been rejected by him: they were no longer 'chosen' or 'elect'. The Church, the new Israel, had superseded the Old Israel. The Church had supplanted the Synagogue. These positions were later codified as part of canon law at the 3rd and 4th Lateran Councils in Rome in 1179 and 1215. Jews were now subject to a number of restrictions: they were required to pay tithes on properties they acquired, to wear clothes that would distinguish them from Christians, and to stay at home during Holy Week and the Easter holiday, so as not to "profane" the Christian observances. They were not to hold public office or to employ Christian servants. In the Synod of Breslau in 1267, it was laid down that Christians were forbidden to invite Jews to weddings and other feasts, to share meals with them, to dance with them, to buy their food, to go to baths with them, or to frequent Jewish-­‐owned inns. There were limitations on the rights of the Jews to lend money, and separate Jewish residential quarters had to be established. Jews should be compelled to wear horned hats; they were prohibited from holding public office, particularly the office of customs or toll collector" (Polonsky, p. 18). All of these laws ensured the social inferiority and subordination of the Jews. During the Crusades, and particularly in 1096, Crusading bands massacred Jews in the Rhineland (Germany and France) on an unprecedented scale. Although this was not initiated or encouraged by the Church, the perpetrators were all baptized Catholics and ostensibly killed the Jews in the name of God. Hatred of the Jews had been internalized in all walks of Western European society. The impurity of the Jew, it was said, was a threat to the community and could contaminate its women, children, goods and religion. Fear and disgust led to libels and imaginary tales: Jews poison wells, kill or devour children in their rituals, desecrate the Host, plot with the enemies of Christianity. Therefore, exclusion, expulsion and massacres of Jews were seen as practical measures to safeguard public health. Until the late middle ages, Jews were forced into a position of money-­‐lending as the Church prohibited usury (taking an interest on loans), since it was defined by Christian ethics as an exaction – something permissible only to an enemy whose possessions and even person could be rightfully attacked. On the one hand, this engendered the protection of the Jews by the monarchs or nobility. On the other hand, this placed Jews in the unenviable position as middlemen, coming in direct contact with debtors and popular hostility. A frequently used analogy was that, in the same manner that it was expedient to authorize and to control the activities of prostitutes in order to defend the institution of marriage and prevent homosexuality, it was necessary to agree to Jewish money lending under an official license in order to prevent the corruption of Christians. This added an additional layer of enmity between the Jews and the majority Christian populations among whom they lived. In the 13th centuries laws were legislated in Western Europe intended to urge the Jews to forgo financial involvement in favor of manual labor. In 1230, Louis IX of France issued the Ordinance of Melun, which forbade Jews to engage in money lending. The King of England, Edward I, forbade the taking of interest in 1275. This came as a result of moralistic religious fervor aspiring to free the world of vice and a desire to remove the Jews from society, overcoming all considerations of economic expediency. These anti-­‐usury laws undoubtedly contributed to the impoverishment of the Jews (in Western Europe), and were followed by decisions to expel the Jews from England in 1290 and from France in 1306. These were the first steps in the process of purging Catholic Europe of Jews and would eventually lead to their migration in the direction of Poland and Lithuania. The Black Death plague that began in 1348 and killed one third of Europe's population, was followed by successive Jewish expulsions, burnings at the stake and collective imprisonments. The Jews, who had better communal and personal hygiene and were legally segregated from their Christian neighbors, were much less affected by the plague. According to Jewish religious law, individuals had to wash their hands before breaking bread and had to bathe as part of religious ritual. These ritual-­‐cleansing requirements did not exist in the parallel Christian communities of Medieval Europe. Mass Christian deaths led to the accusation that the Jews had poisoned the wells, which caused the plague. Modern anti-­‐Semitism: Jewish Emancipation in Western and Central Europe Between the end of the 18th and 19th centuries, the West gradually shed its feudal and traditional structures, entering a liberal, bourgeois, individualist and industrial age. In this context, the equality of all citizens became an essential condition of modernity. Thus, in this period, all of the countries in Western Europe bestowed upon their Jewish populations equal rights as citizens. In began with France in 1791 and culminated in Switzerland in 1874. However, there were still popular anti-­‐Jewish feelings, which undermined the pace of this process. In the latter half of the 19th century, the anti-­‐Semitic attitudes based on traditional theological and economic reasons were still widespread throughout European society. These were still voiced in Western and Central Europe but were particularly prevalent in Eastern Europe. The Socio-­‐Economic context for Modern anti-­‐Semitism: Modern anti-­‐Semitism was especially potent in those lands and those sectors of society, which were undergoing a rapid process of industrialization and urbanization – Germany and the Austro-­‐Hungarian Empire being prime examples. All of the major countries in Western Europe experienced population explosions in the 19th century. From 1800-­‐1910, France's population grew from 27-­‐ 40 million, Germany's from 24.5-­‐65 million and Great Britain's from 11-­‐40 million. This resulted in greater competition over limited economic resources and a mass migration from the villages to the cities. Europeans, who had made their living off of the land for millennia, became factory workers, living on the margins of major cities in overcrowded conditions. Since the supply of working hands greatly outnumbered the demand for their labor, this new massive sector of the population found itself constantly on the verge of unemployment and abject poverty. The economic dynamic of the 19th century, which included industrialization, changing trade routes, the growth of the cities and expansion of the markets, led to the decline and ultimate collapse of the traditional professional classes that were based on guilds. In the past, the guilds set prices for their skilled labor and ensured the employment and prosperity of their members. By law and practice, Jews were not allowed to be members of these professional cooperatives until the late 19th century. The replacement of this "protectionist" system with free market style capitalism including open competition was perceived by the members of the guilds as an immoral change in the proper order of things. The Jewish populations also grew and experienced mass migration from the towns to the large urban centers. Their willingness to sacrifice everything so that their children could receive a worthy education, their adaptability to changing conditions which was almost a group instinct that had developed over centuries of expulsion and movement from country to country and the ties of solidarity felt between Jews, placed them in a good position to improve their economic situation. Within one generation, the proportion of Jews in the universities became much greater than their percentage of the overall population. The Jewish presence in the cities, their rapid social ascent, their visibility in the liberal professions, in the world of finance, in the press, and in the arts, as well as in left-­‐wing political movements, provoked violent reactions. An urban day-­‐laborer saw his former Jewish classmate rise to the middle class, as he remained in the same impoverished state. He asked himself how the Jew had succeeded where he had failed. The conclusion was that the Jew must have done something illegal or immoral to advance so quickly. The negative, diabolical stereotype of the Jew inherited from medieval Christian anti-­‐Judaism, reemerged in secularized forms. The Jews were now described as an occult force, manipulating both capitalism and revolution in order to achieve domination over all nations. The animosity against the Jews based on economic, social and cultural reasons mentioned above, was translated into political terms: the demand to curb the alleged influence of the Jews by forcing them to assimilate into the local society was tantamount to a call for their complete disappearance as a separate entity (religious, ethnic and cultural). Modern Politics in 19th Century Europe: After 1848, the principle of representative government spread throughout Western and Central Europe. The numbers of people with the right to vote and influence policy increased dramatically. This in turn gave rise to many organized political parties that began to compete for votes. Journalism also appeared as a potent political force and a tool for various parties to influence voters. As education became more wide-­‐spread, literacy grew, creating a larger readership of new journals, newspapers and magazines. Within this context, it was deemed completely appropriate to create political platforms that would draw maximum numbers of voters to support particular parties. Newspapers were a useful way of attracting the attention of potential voters. The animosity towards a successful new Jewish urban middle class was the backdrop for the espousal of anti-­‐Semitic platforms by various major political parties in Western and Central Europe. Journals were the mass media of that day which trumpeted this ideology of hatred. The phenomenon of political anti-­‐Semitism was a major force in European politics by the end of the 19th century, particularly in France, Germany and the Austro-­‐Hungarian Empire. The Appearance of New Ideologies: Social Darwinism and Racial Theory The 1850s saw the emergence of two trends of thinking loosely based on so-­‐called "empirical" scientific research, which would later form a major part of Hitler's anti-­‐ Semitic racial ideology. The first of these was coined Social Darwinism, which postulated that there were forces acting in society similar to natural forces that operate in animal and plant communities. Therefore it is possible to formulate certain social laws just as biologists have done regarding nature (laws of nature, etc). These underlying and irresistible social forces produce evolutionary progress through the natural conflicts between social groups. The best-­‐adapted and most successful social groups survive these conflicts, raising the evolutionary level of society generally. Darwin had spoken about a natural selection among different species of plant and animal life which was the product of a struggle for survival, usually won by the "fittest." Social Darwinists claimed that one could identity a similar process among human societies. The second intellectual trend that would lead to a new form of anti-­‐Semitism was the rise of Racial ideologies. One of the new sciences established in the 19th century was anthropology. Anthropologists began to collect and amass data on the physical traits of human societies including the size, shape and circumference of skulls, and the color of skin and eyes, etc. The first racial theorists were actually linguists. They claimed that in contrast to the Indo-­‐European peoples who were talented, tolerant and intellectually curious, the Semitic peoples were inferior representatives of human nature, absent of all creativity, selfish and exclusionary. Some anthropologists defined the connection between physical and behavioral traits among people. Blond hair, blue eyes, elongated skulled Nordic or Aryan peoples were the chosen race. They were characterized by their developed intellect, their higher education, strong work ethics, wealth, connection to the land and their general integrity. The Semitic peoples were lazy, narrow-­‐minded, shifty, and unreliable and wandered from place to place. There were racial ideologues such as Houston Stewart Chamberlain who focused more on the psychological characteristics of race. In his view, the German (Aryan) race was creative, faithful and responsible. The Jewish race was corrupt and parasitic. Almost all of the racial theorists opposed intermarriage between the races. Because of the law of averages, the mixture of races undermined the stronger race. An Aryan marrying a Jew produced hereditarily racially inferior children. This idea would later be the backdrop for the necessity to separate Jews from non-­‐Jews in Nazi Germany and to legally prevent marriage and sexual relations between them. Those thinkers, who advanced the theories of Race and Social Darwinism, consciously detached themselves from the mainstream humanist and rationalistic traditions. They introduced terms and methods from the natural sciences into the study of human and social relationships, which gave them a so-­‐called "objective scientific basis" to define the relations between groups, nations and cultures. Advocates of racial theories claimed that human societies did not exist in order to achieve religious or moral ideals or to pursue maximum happiness for maximum people. They argued that within human society there exists a constant existential struggle between the better, stronger, and worthier versus the weaker, more vulnerable, and fated to extinction. Nature ruled who has the advantage: those whose racial traits are superior. From an ideological perspective, in Europe these theories were directed towards influencing political decisions regarding Jews. The racial characteristics applied to the Semitic race could be used to strengthen the negative stereotype of the Jews that already existed and to create a "scientific" basis for the historic hatred against them. Simultaneously, a theory such as Social Darwinism came along to justify the struggle against the Jews, the abrogation of their rights, their expulsion and even their extermination. The racial ideologues claimed that nature should be allowed to take its course; the superior race should not be prevented from destroying the inferior one. Jews should not be protected, they claimed, nor should they receive equal rights as citizens. The Impact of Nationalism: The 19th century saw the rise of nationalism which resulted in the establishment of new nation-­‐states, especially in Europe. The most basic idea of nationalism spoke about a correlation between groups of people having a common language, culture, historic memory (and at times a common religion and political tradition) and a specific territorial space. A good example of the realization of this concept of nationalism was the establishment of the modern nation-­‐state of Italy. Another form of nationalism spoke about the nation defined as people who entered into a contract with each other, accepting the principles and obligations of the nation-­‐state. Those who accepted the contract would be eligible to enjoy equal rights. This played out in the United States where the basis of American nationalism is the acceptance of the ideals and principles outlined in the U.S. constitution. Until 1871, there was no nation-­‐state called Germany. There were some 30 German principalities and a country called Prussia. There was no correlation between territory, language and common culture. For example, was Austria part of Germany? What about sections of Czechoslovakia or Hungary where the population spoke German? German nationalism was based on Romantic ideas that defined Germany as a cultural area or region. What was held in common was a unified cultural identity. The nation became the center of their identity and was perceived as a body that grew organically throughout history. The language, the customs, the folklore were all revelations of the "national spirit" and expressed their common essence. It was not possible for an outsider to join this "live organism" or German nation. Jews, whose roots were clearly not from Germany, could not by this definition ever truly be German. This type of nationalism, based on romantic ideas, put a great emphasis on folklore, legends, and literature in order to penetrate into the so-­‐called national spirit to become familiar with its essence. Thus, the common man and the simple life were idealized. Since much of the folklore originated in the middle ages and typically included a negative stereotype of the Jew, the search for this "lost" cultural treasure in order to enhance a national Germany identity, resulted in the reintroduction of the classic negative image of Jews in the emergent Germany. This imagery, would be utilized in the political anti-­‐Semitism that was so prevalent in late 19th century Europe in general, and in Germany in particular. Nazi Racial Ideology: In the wake of the Communist revolution in Russia in 1917, Germany's defeat in WWI, and the collapse of the world economy in 1929, Hitler was able to radicalize all previous anti-­‐Semitic theories. Synthesizing the main ideas of modern anti-­‐Semitism of the 19th century, Hitler depicted the Jews as an inherently destructive race and the struggle between Aryans and Jews as an inexorable and merciless war. It was Jewish bankers and brokers that caused the Great Depression. Jewish Bolsheviks had led the communist revolution in Russia and were threatening to spread the Red Menace throughout Europe. Germany lost WWI because of Jewish betrayal. The Jew became the reason for every negative situation that could be found in Germany or the world, in the 1930s. In the Nazi view, there was a huge war brewing between the positive, creative, master Aryan race and the parasitic, destructive Jewish race. Both competed for mastery of the world's soul. It was a zero sum game. Only one could emerge triumphant. At balance was control of the world's destiny. In Hitler's view, there could be no compromise with the Jews. Their fate was annihilation and this could not be prevented through a Jewish willingness to convert, leave Europe or become the Nazis' slaves. Only the complete – global – elimination of the Jewish race could enable the Aryan race to rein supreme. In a sense, one of the unique aspects of the Holocaust was the Nazi Racial Ideology regarding the Jews. This was the first time in history that a population was targeted for genocide based on a fantasy and not on rational interests, such as a territorial struggle or a nationalist conflict or competition over resources, etc. The Jews were not competing with the Nazis and there was no Jewish conspiracy to rule the world. Jews did not perceive Germany or the German people as their enemy, but rather were loyal citizens, having fought for the motherland during WWI. Even the myth of Jewish wealth did not bear out as the masses of European Jewry were impoverished. There were almost no Jews in significant positions of political influence, anywhere in the world when Hitler rose to power; no Prime Ministers or Presidents of major world powers, etc (the exception being Leon Blum, who was Prime Minister of France in the 1930s and captured and imprisoned by the Nazis). During WWII, Jews were killed for the crime of having been born. That was simply unprecedented.