Oświęcim v. Auschwitz

I know it has been weeks since I have updated my blog—that is the sad truth of graduate school and part-time work keeping me from doing what I love: blogging about Poland. But I did make potato and cheese pierogi tonight for dinner (ok ok, they were Mrs. T’s), but still the nostalgia flooded over me, and even without the Tyskie, I decided that I must write. Besides, there is still several days’ worth of stories that have not yet been told. So we begin once again.

On Wednesday (July 18), our group left the hotel early to head to Auschwitz I for a morning filled with workshops. It was a little disconcerting to be sitting in the ‘classrooms’ which are located in the former camp barracks themselves. But then again, I was familiar with these reconverted spaces after having worked with the conservation team the year before on shoe preservation—its department located also inside the camp in a building once utilized by the Nazis.

Our first workshop was with Alicja Białecka, curator of the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum. She led us in a hands-on project/discussion of individual victims of the camp based on the museum’s archival material. It was fascinating to be reminded of the stories of survival from Auschwitz and how (ironically) prisoners who were in the camp longer were more established and thus had a better chance of survival. Individual stories—like the “Romeo and Juliet” story of Auschwitz involving Edek Galanski and Mala (Malka) Zimetbaum, which details how they fell in love (he, a Polish political prisoner; she, a Jew) and escaped from Auschwitz together, only to be caught, interrogated, and killed—put faces, personalities, and life into the 1.1 million people that died there.

            We then made our way to the Archives, located in Block 24 of the Auschwitz I complex, where we met with Szymon Kowalski, the deputy head of the archives. Although the Auschwitz Museum opened July 2, 1947, the museum archive was not established until 1957 with the main task of collecting and preserving all documentation. During the camp’s existence (from the spring 1940 to January 1945) only 5 percent of the records were kept at Auschwitz to be used in the archives since the SS had destroyed most of the documents in an attempt to erase their war crimes, resistance prisoners had tried to save as much documentation as possible (hiding them, sending them outside the camp, etc.) and after the Soviets, after they had liberated Auschwitz, took back a good amount of documentation (including the prisoner death records) back to Moscow. Unfortunately, the documents sent to the USSR were not available to historians or family members until Communism fell in 1989. In 1991 and 1992, the Russians returned the death record album back to the Auschwitz State Museum which provided 68,000 death certificates of Auschwitz prisoners (although many, if not most, of the ‘causes of death’ were Nazi lies). Today, the archives department receives 10,000 requests worldwide each year, people requesting information on their family.

Auschwitz I (just beyond the infamous 'Arbeit Macht Frei' gate and to the left is Block 24 where the Archives are located)

A street view of Oświęcim. 

"Antisemitism is a sin against God and humanity" --JPII

Suzanne, Sari, and Shelby walking in Oświęcim.

Leaving the camp complex, and re-entering the town of Oświęcim (a short, 5 minute drive away) that day, truly made me think about the relationship between town and camp, since sadly the two—Auschwitz, the camp and Oświęcim, the town, are conflated. The question is rightfully asked how a society who witnessed directly the deaths of millions could continue to live without mourning the loss of their fellow Jewish citizens. Although there is no excuse for the anti-Semitism, pogroms, and expulsions that occurred in Poland after the war, it is imperative to comprehend the role the communist government played in separating “Nazi camp” from “innocent (and victimized) Polish town.” In the 1990s, some Poles argued for both the town and the camp to remain ‘Oświęcim’ which specifically connotes Polish suffering (whereas ‘Auschwitz’ connotes Jewish suffering). Polish society in general “still sees the war as a central event embodying national heroism, pride, and victimhood,” and those who are not ready to work toward reconciliation often fall into an older generation of Poles who lived and suffered significantly during the war—Poles who feel that their suffering is both being forgotten and rewritten by recovering and propagating strictly Jewish suffering.  

Yet as we know, and as many, many Poles now are also championing, the memory of the Holocaust in Poland should not focus solely on suffering; it should also center on the rediscovery of Jewish contributions to Polish social life, Polish history, and Polish culture. The point of remembering the Jewish Holocaust is to “bring a sense of community—between camp and town—not rivalry about who really ‘suffered more.’” Only after the fall of communism, was a more truthful portrayal of past suffering obtained. Sixty years had passed before towns (especially those near neighboring camps) began admitting collective guilt and/or complicity in the Holocaust. The town of Oświęcim was no different.  Finally in the past 15 years, Oświęcim confessed relation to the Holocaust sites in its town and is currently attempting to reconstruct its pre-war Jewish history.

Thus this blog entry is not meant to be conclusive; instead it is meant to elucidate the various controversial issues at stake, and that a black and white picture of guilt and “normal” life in Oświęcim should not be painted.  Instead, it is imperative to walk away with the knowledge that the Holocaust did not just suddenly happen, but was a process where ordinary citizens in the towns had choices. And yes, while camps can still be treated as “terror zones,” these zones were also very much part of the community who helped send people to these camps or (fearing their own livelihood) stood by and watched it happened.

Thus the picture of the town must be one that is evolving. May the outside Jewish (and world) community no longer see Oświęcim as an intolerant and insensitive graveyard, and may the citizens of Oświęcim recognize the sacral nature of their town in Jewish history, and by living in this community, do everything they can to respect the victims of the Holocaust and the wishes of those who are remembering the victims’ lives and honoring their memory.