Poland: The Jewish Question

Though anti-Semitism has a long and virulent history in Poland, Jews form a vital and powerful segment of the present Polish government. As in other countries in Eastern Europe, the roots of the Polish Communist Party go back to 19th century Jewish-led organizations. And as Europe’s Communist parties grew after World War I, so did the influence of the Jews within them. Dur ing World War II and Nazi occupation, many Polish Communist Jews fled to Russia for sanctuary—and many returned with the Red Army to hold high military, secret-police and administrative posts. Thus, though there are only 30,000 Jews in Poland today, they are seeded influentially from the Politburo down through the intellectual community and the Polish press.

After Party Boss Wladyslaw Gomulka’s decision to break off diplomatic ties with Israel last June at Moscow’s behest, there was a modicum of wry truth in a gibe that quickly made the rounds in Warsaw: Tel Aviv was going to retaliate by withdrawing the Polish government. Gomulka, whose wife is Jewish, was not amused. In a scarcely veiled effort to draw on the old well spring of Polish antiSemitism, he charged: “The Israeli aggression on Arab countries has met with applause from Zionist circles of Jews who are Polish citizens and who even gave drinking parties on the occasion. We do not wish a fifth column to be created in our country.”

The Generals Say No. In a country where 2,800,000 Jews were killed little more than two decades ago, it was a blatant invitation to prejudice. Gomulka followed the invitation with action.

Anti-Israeli propaganda with a distinctly anti-Semitic slant was printed for circulation among the armed forces. The pamphlets were so distasteful that the air-defense chief, his deputy for political affairs and the air-defense chief of staff—none of them Jewish—flatly refused to allow distribution of the taint ed propaganda. The generals were not likely to have risked their careers without the knowledge that their attitude had widespread support, but three weeks ago, Gomulka angrily fired all three.

Next Gomulka organized a celebration in Warsaw’s National Theater on the 23rd anniversary of Warsaw’s uprising against the Nazis during the occupation. On hand to preside was Police Chief General Tadeusz Pietrzak, who rammed through a resolution that said, “the rulers of Israel have now allied themselves to the most reactionary neo-Hitlerite circles in the German Federal Republic”—a bit of the absurd more likely to confuse than rouse any anti-Semite left in Poland. Undaunted, the opposition to Gomulka continued to stand firm. Last week a top Polish army general, Ignacy Blum, was fired for refusing to pass anti-Semitic literature along to his troops. Another measure of the opposition was offered by former Israeli Ambassador to Warsaw, Dov Sattath, who reported receiving 3,200 letters of support from Polish gentiles during the Middle East crisis. Most were signed and bore the sender’s address—an act of considerable courage in a country where the censor is as ubiquitous as the corner mailbox.