Explore our collection of articles! The compilation has been created for all those wishing to learn more about the complex issues underpinning 20th-century European history and memory. It consists of both academic and popular pieces, all written and/or edited by experts in their field. The articles cover a wide range of topics, from historical summaries and social history to contemporary commemoration practices.

Photo of the publication Vita a prágai tavasz örökségéről
Jan Pauer

Vita a prágai tavasz örökségéről

21 August 2011
Tags
  • kommunizmus
  • 1989
  • 1968
  • Dubček
  • Charta 77
  • szlovákok
  • Csehszlovákia
  • Szlovákia
  • Prága
  • Csehország
  • csehek

Az 1968-as évre visszatekintve azzal a furcsa ténnyel szembesülhetünk, hogy a nyugaton tisztelettel és rokonszenvvel kísért prágai tavasz emlékéhez Prágában, főleg az önálló Cseh Köztársaság létrejötte, vagyis 1992/93 után, az új politikai elit és a közéleti véleményformálók jelentős hányada inkább szkeptikusan vagy nyílt elutasítással közelít. Amíg Európában, beleértve az egykori keleti blokkot is, a prágai forradalom leverését nemzeti és csehszlovák tragédiának látják, a ’90-es évek elején Csehországban olyan hangok is hallhatóak voltak, miszerint a prágai tavasz mindenekelőtt a kommunista frakciók egymás közötti harca, és így az egész folyamat a kommunizmus nevű abszurd kísérlet történetének epizódja volt csupán.

A ’90-es évek eleji Csehországban Dubček személyéről is megoszlottak a vélemények. Fiatal konzervatív újságírók végérvényesen a kommunista táborba sorolták, míg más, árnyaltabb vélemények szerint az akkori reformerek több emberiességre törekedtek ugyan, de politikájuk illuzórikus, ellentmondásos és gyenge maradt. A prágai tavasz legnagyobb jelentőségét bukásában látják, amellyel végleg megszűnt az illúzió, hogy a kommunizmust meg lehetne újítani. A prágai tavasz ismert alakjai, mint Karel Kosík, Jiři Pelikán vagy Eduard Goldstücker ugyanakkor azzal vádolták az új liberális-konzervatív hatalmi elitet, hogy ugyanúgy viszonyul a prágai tavaszhoz, mint a Husák-rendszer tette a maga idején, vagyis a prágai tavaszt kétszer is eltemették a hatalom birtokosai; egyszer 1968-at követően, majd pedig 1989 után.

Az 1989 utáni politikai differenciálódás csehországi nyertesei a neoliberális pártok voltak, amelyek egyértelművé akarták tenni, hogy a demokráciáról és a társadalomról alkotott elképzeléseik különböznek 1968-étól. A „természetes rend” és az „elbizakodott konstrukció” sematikus szembeállításával egy jobb, technokrata világ nevében minden szocialistát és baloldali liberálist olyan politikai ellenségként bélyegeztek meg, aki veszélyezteti az emberi szabadság alapjait. A prágai tavasz a politika tárgyává vált, és a politikai csatározások középpontjába került. Nem a párttagok álltak 1989-ig a kritika kereszttüzében, hanem a ’68-asok és a velük együtt emlegetett disszidensek, pl. a „Charta 77” polgárjogi mozgalom keretében.

Ha a Csehországban reflektált antikommunizmuson belül is értelmezni akarjuk a prágai tavasz 1989 utáni, átmeneti lebecsülését, annak nagy része a prágai tavasz vereségének különleges módjából fakad, amely fokozatosan következett be, és amelynek a legnehezebb részét maguk a reformerek végezték el. Képtelenségük arra, hogy lemondjanak bizonyos politikai alapelvekről, és inkább idejében átengedjék a hatalmat, bizakodásuk abban, hogy a ragaszkodás bizonyos pozíciókhoz még mindig a kisebbik rossz, nem volt véletlen. Ebben a reformkommunista képviseleti politika és a népnek, a parlamentnek és az alkotmánynak elkötelezett, legális és demokratikus politika alapvető különbsége mutatkozott meg. A reformkommunista kísérlet erőszakos meghiúsítása rezignációba, cinizmusba és emigrációba torkollott. A Husák-rendszer 20 évét a magánéletbe való menekülés és a hatalommal való külső kollaboráció jellemezte. Az elnyomás, a politikai alkalmazkodás és önmegtagadás kulturális értelemben elpusztította az országot. A pártból 1989-ig száműztek minden reformgondolatot.

A prágai tavasz ’90-es évek eleji politikai instrumentalizálása csak lassan adja át a helyét az árnyaltabb véleményeknek és az érvelő stílusnak, amelyek félreismerhetetlenül megjelennek az 1968 örökségéről folytatott vitában. Ehhez társul, hogy – a reformkísérlet ellentmondásos megítélése ellenére – a prágai tavasz és erőszakos leverése mélyen beleivódott a cseh polgárok kollektív emlékezetébe. A közvéleménykutatások szerint többségük a demokrácia megújításának kísérleteként és a nemzeti többség ügyeként tartja számon a prágai tavaszt.

Máshogy közeledtek a prágai tavaszhoz Szlovákiában, ahol mind az 1968-as reformfolyamathoz, mind pedig kudarcának következményeihez sokkal tartózkodóbban viszonyultak. Mivel az egyetlen reform, amely túlélhette az egy évvel későbbi restaurációt, az 1968-as föderális reform volt, a Husák-rendszer Szlovákiában bizonyos legitimációval rendelkezett. Szlovákia történetének legnagyobb urbanizációs és iparosítási fellendülése a kommunista rendszerben ment végbe. Az 1989-es rendszerváltás nem vezetett a demokratikus ellenzék és a hatalmon lévők közti erős polarizációhoz, ami a kommunista múlttal való szembenézés visszafogott voltában és a Csehországban 1989 után szorgalmazott átvilágítások elutasításában csapódott le. 1989 után Szlovákia általánosságban pozitívabban állt az 1968-as reformfolyamat emlékéhez.

Sem a reformkommunizmus, sem az eurokommunizmus nem hagyott hátra elméleti vagy intézményi szinten olyan örökséget, amelyhez az 1989 utáni új demokráciák kapcsolódhattak volna. A reformkommunizmus mint demokrácia-tervezet azonban nem azonos sem az össztársadalmi demokratikus átalakulással, vagyis a prágai tavasszal, sem pedig annak jelentőségével a cseh, a szlovák és az európai történelem számára.

Miért nyűgözte le a Nyugatot a prágai tavasz? A szocialisták és az eurokommunisták számára a prágai tavasz azt a reményt keltette, hogy a társadalmi igazságosság és a demokrácia összekapcsolása valósággá válhat. A modernizálók és a technokraták számára olyan kísérlet volt, amely megmutathatta volna, hogy lehetséges-e a rendszereket egymáshoz közelíteni, vagyis a nyugati jóléti államnak van-e keleti megfelelője a demokratizálódás és a piacgazdasági nyitás keretében. A szociáldemokraták pedig olyan perspektívát láttak a prágai tavaszban, amely a két baloldali tábor, a kommunisták és a szociáldemokraták megosztottságának meghaladásával kecsegtetett.

Az elképzelés, miszerint a totalitárius szovjetkommunizmus békésen és vérontás nélkül megszüntethető, olyan polgári és konzervatív politikusokat is felvillanyozott, mint Margaret Thatcher vagy idősebb George Bush. Az európai megosztottság erőszakmentes felszámolásának már a puszta gondolata is szinte mindenkit, a politika iránt nem érdeklődőket is megérintette. Arról nem beszélve, hogy a prágai tavasz mediális világesemény volt, hiszen a tévéképernyőkön milliók láthatták egy kis ország éjszakai lerohanását, amely senkinek sem ártott, csupán a hazugságoknak és a nem demokratikus gyakorlatnak akart véget vetni. A prágai tavasz tartósan megváltoztatta a szovjetkommunizmus természetéről alkotott képet. Neves európai gondolkodók, mint Jean-Paul Sartre vagy Bertrand Russell „Moszkva Vietnámjaként” bélyegezték meg a katonai beavatkozást.

A prágai tavasz hosszú távú hatással volt az egykori keleti blokkra, hiszen néhány hónapra valósággá vált a szovjet mintájú diktatúrák megváltoztathatósága a szabadságjogok kiterjesztése irányában. Kis létszámú és befolyású disszidens csoportok tiltakozó tüntetései a Szovjetunióban, Lengyelországban, Magyarországon és az NDK-ban választóvonalat jelentettek a keleti blokk fejlődésében. A civil társadalmi ellenzék megszületésének és a reformkommunizmus leáldozásának pillanatai voltak ezek.

A prágai tavasz nem sok okot ad az elfogult ítéletekre. Nem helytálló sem a reformkommunisták által felállított egyszerű összefüggés, amely szerint a prágai tavasz a bársonyos forradalom közvetlen előfutára, sem pedig az a neoliberális szembeállítás, hogy a nép demokráciát akart, miközben a reformkommunisták csak saját uralmuk korszerűsítésére törekedtek.

Kulturális értelemben a ’60-as évek produktívnak bizonyultak. A Nyugattal szembeni civilizációs hátrány még kevéssé volt látható, és az ökológia színrelépése előtti növekedési és technikai fetisizmus azt a hitet igazolta, hogy megvan a lehetőség a Kelet és a Nyugat közötti hosszú távú közeledésre. A marxizmus meglepő, az 1960-as években világszerte végbement reneszánsza megkönnyítette a határokon és rendszereken átívelő kommunikációt. A prágai tavasz ideológiailag lépést tartott a kortársak eme tévedésével. Az akkori reformerek meg voltak győződve arról, hogy az államosítás következtében kialakult társadalmi struktúrát nem lehet megváltoztatni. Azért mertek több demokráciát alkalmazni, mert hittek a szocializmus történelmi küldetésében.

A már említett programszerű korlátozások ellenére 1968 össztársadalmi folyamata rendszerváltás volt, amelyet erőszak nélkül nem lehetett volna megállítani. A prágai tavasz történelmi jelentősége a reform- és rendszerváltó folyamatok demokratikus felforgató erejében rejlik, amely bizonyította a kommunista diktatúra békés úton való megszüntetésének lehetségességét.


Dr. Jan Pauer - történész, tolmács és filozófus. 1990-1993 között együttműködött a cseh kormány által létrehozott történészbizottsággal, amely a volt Csehszlovákia történelmének 1967-1971 közötti szakaszát vizsgálta. 1993-tól a Brémai Egyetem Kelet-Európai Kutató Központjának munkatársa. Társszerzője számos közép-európai történelmi, kulturális és politikai témájú dokumentumfilmnek, résztvevője tízegynéhány rádióműsornak és számos sajtócikk szerzője.

Photo of the publication Visible Memories – Memorial Sites Commemorating the Victims of Communist Regimes in Central Europe
Anna Kaminsky

Visible Memories – Memorial Sites Commemorating the Victims of Communist Regimes in Central Europe

20 August 2011
Tags
  • communism
  • Central Europe
  • Eastern Europe
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Memory
  • Europe
  • Place of remembrance
  • History

In recent years there have been numerous fierce discussions about the future historical and cultural memory of the newly expanded Europe – usually used as shorthand for the expanded European Union. The most controversially discussed areas were those pertaining to the history of formerly communist-ruled countries and members of the Warsaw Pact. Conflicts about memories and memorialisation were primarily ignited by the differing national perceptions of historical events and the evaluation of these events in the 20th century. The discussions focused on those states in which the assessment and treatment of national-socialist and communist crimes did not accord with the expectations and standards which had developed over the previous decades in Western Europe, particularly in the Federal Republic of Germany.

The point was, and is, not merely which historical events should be remembered and how they will be, or rather should be, commemorated. How these historical events should be perceived and how they should be integrated into the respective national or transnational historical narratives were likewise a matter of heated debate. Discussions focused on the status accorded to particular historical events, their representation and memorialisation, compared to other historical events. The prominence given to the memorialisation of national-socialist crimes was hotly debated.

And, finally, there was also the question of aesthetics, of the adapted forms and quantitative dimensions utilized, as these determined the importance of a monument or memorial, based on its height, size or extent as measured by the square meters covered by the facility, and from which, again based on their sheer size, inferences were made regarding its importance compared to monuments commemorating other events, which were often perceived as vying with them in importance.

These discussions currently focus on the memorial cultures which have begun to develop in the formerly Soviet-dominated post-socialist nations of Central and Eastern Europe – nations which, during the course of the 20th century, were the site of crimes committed by those two big totalitarian systems: national-socialism and communism. Many Central and Eastern European states suffered repeated occupations, and today this informs the respective memorial cultures which have developed in these countries since 1991, with differing regional and national emphases. The developments in the Russian Federation occupy a special position, as the blame for all of the crimes committed in the East Bloc has been laid at their door. But this perception ignores the fact that Russians were similarly victims of Stalinist repression as were the populations of those countries later occupied by the Soviet Union. And the authoritarian regimes of the interwar period, which persecuted persons or groups for political, religious and/or ethnic reasons, recede from view behind these memories.

Taken together with the repudiation of the post-war period under Soviet domination, this memorialisation of events serves to promote the identity of nation-states and is accompanied by a comprehensive externalisation of moral guilt and responsibility – both of which are usually laid at Moscow’s door – and is used to construct a national identity of victimisation or resistance.

This is accompanied by a visible appropriation of public space including

- the creation of own monuments and symbols to take the place of previously existing monuments and symbols,

- the renaming of streets, public facilities and institutions (including even such mundane establishments as cafés and restaurants),

- the destruction/reshaping of monuments and state symbols classed as extraneous to the nation, which are neutralised or nationalised, thereby simultaneously erasing the traces of the totalitarian past,

- and the reactivation of national and religious symbols with positive connotations due to their concealment or suppression in the public space during communist rule.

In addition to their commemorative and memorial role, the newly created monuments and places of remembrance also have the task of providing or eliciting information. Thus, rediscovered sites of massacres and mass graves are marked, and clues to identify the victims are shown, with the newly erected information panels used to display pictures of personal belongings found in mass graves, such as cigarette cases, glasses or fountain pens with initials. The population is asked for help in identifying the dead. The names of identified victims are published in obituaries and lists of names are amended to visibly show the extent of the persecutions suffered and the crimes committed.

While in the former socialist states monuments, museums, memorial sites and commemorative rituals recalled the crimes committed by German occupying forces during the Second World War and commemorated the fight against national-socialism – even if such commemorations tended to be selective – the crimes committed by the Soviet Union or by the various national communist rulers were not spoken of. Since 1991 they are being remembered in an attempt to make amends for their previous concealment.

Over the past few years, a diverse physical landscape of remembrance has been created in the shape of monuments, museums and memorial sites in the former communist states of Central and Eastern Europe. Investigations by the Federal Foundation for the Reappraisal of the SED Dictatorship, carried out as part of the documentation project “Memorial Sites of the Communist Dictatorship” (Erinnerungsorte an die kommunistischen Diktaturen), have resulted in the listing of more than 3500 monuments, memorial sites and museums. This includes approximately 400 monuments in the Russian Federation, created in memory of the Great Terror of 1937/38, and some 300 monuments erected in the Ukraine for the victims of the great famine – the Holodomor – in 1932/33. More than 150 monuments and memorials commemorate the suppression of the Hungarian revolution in 1956. The majority of these memorials mostly refer to specific national or regional events or specific crimes, and commemorate actions, persons or groups, who symbolise the national resistance against communist rule and stand for national self-assertion. They are associated with a positive narrative of remembrance which, particularly in the Baltic States or in Ukraine[1], focuses on the anti-communist struggle and positions its protagonists as members of the resistance and victims of communism. To what extent this resistance was also coupled with the espousal and defence of democratic values is of secondary importance.

Not all monuments remembering the crimes committed under communist rule and commemorating the victims were created after the downfall of communist regimes. In 1981, for example, a monument was erected in Poznań commemorating the uprising of 1956. Numerous monuments and memorials were created in the “free world” to remember communist crimes and their victims. These include monuments set up in Western Europe, Canada or the US to commemorate the Hungarian revolution of 1956 or the massacre of Katyn.

Monuments and museums which deal critically with the past or commemorate past victims are not the only type of monument to be created after 1989/90 in formerly communist ruled states. A number of museums, memorials and mementos have been set up which offer a positive interpretation of the communist past. These include the erection of new statues of Stalin or museums dedicated to Stalin, as has been done in several former Soviet republics, for example in Tbilisi, and museums celebrating the state security services such as those in Dnipropetrovsk or in Marij El.

However, this varied physical manifestation of a culture of memory created over the past few years in the shape of thousands of memorials and museums, mementos, monuments, cenotaphs, religious buildings and museum parks does not permit any inferences to be made about the actual status of communist crimes in the collective memory or which importance the majority of the population accords such symbols in the public space. Private or local initiatives and victims’ association were often behind the creation of these memorials and the memorials were erected despite the indifference of the local population or even in the teeth of active opposition on the part of a majority of the population or the public authorities. To believe in the existence of a homogeneous national memory, based on these numerous newly created monuments and memorials, would be to reject the many different memories and perceptions which often coexist alongside each other. Thus, several hundreds of monuments currently exist in Ukraine commemorating the great famine of 1932/33. But to conclude, based on the number of these monuments and memorials remembering the Holodomor and its victims, that they are already part of the canon of cultural memory of the new Ukraine would be wide of the mark.

An eloquent example of this are the hundreds of monuments and memorials for the victims of Stalinist repression and the GULag erected in the Russian Federation. In many places the local population is completely unaware of the existence of these monuments, let alone that these memorials form part of any living culture of memory.

translated from German by Helen Schoop 



[1] Other examples from Romania, Hungary and Croatia and other countries could be additionally cited.


 

Photo of the publication Viditeľné spomienky – miesta spomienok na obete komunistického režimu v stredovýchodnej Európe
Anna Kaminsky

Viditeľné spomienky – miesta spomienok na obete komunistického režimu v stredovýchodnej Európe

20 August 2011
Tags
  • communism
  • Central Europe
  • Eastern Europe
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Memory
  • Europe
  • Place of remembrance
  • History

V minulých rokoch sa opakovane vášnivo diskutovalo o tom, ako má v budúcnosti vyzerať historická a kultúrna pamäť novej rozšírenej Európy, pod ktorou sa rozumie predovšetkým rozšírená Európska únia. Veľmi sporné boli pritom predovšetkým témy, ktoré sa týkali dejín v minulosti komunisticky ovládaných štátov patriacich v tom čase k Varšavskému paktu. Konflikty pamäte a spomienok sa rozpútali predovšetkým z dôvodu ich rozličných národných pohľadov na svoje dejiny a ich hodnotenie v 20. storočí. V stredobode pozornosti tu stoja predovšetkým tie štáty, ktorých zaobchádzanie s nacistickými a komunistickými zločinmi sa nezhoduje s očakávaniami a štandardami vznikutými v minulých desaťročiach v západnej Európe a predovšetkým v Spolkovej republike Nemecko.

 

Pritom nešlo a nejde len o to, na ktoré historické udalosti a v akej forme sa spomína alebo lepšie povedané: na ktoré by sa malo spomínať. Prinajmenšom takisto vášnivo sa diskutuje o tom, ako sa tieto historické udalosti majú hodnotiť a ako sa začleňujú do príslušných národných prípadne nadnárodných historických narácií. Pri týchto diskusiách hrá nie menej dôležitú úlohu aj otázka ohľadne príslušných priorít vo vzťahu na zobrazovanie a pripomínanie iných historických udalostí, predovšetkým nacistických zločinov.

V neposlednom rade ide pritom aj o estetické otázky, o adaptované formy a kvantitatívne dimenzie, ktoré spájajú význam pomníkov alebo pamätných miest s výškou, veľkosťou alebo rozsahom štvorcových metrov takýchto objektov a len z ich čírej veľkosti vyvodzujú závery ohľadne dôležitosti ich významu vo vzťahu k pamätníkom venovaných iným – často vnímaných ako konkurujúcim – udalostiam.

Tieto diskusie sa momentálne vedú predovšetkým vo vzťahu k rozvíjajúcej sa kultúre spomínania v postsocialistických štátoch strednej a stredovýchodnej Európy, ktoré boli v minulosti pod sovietskym vplyvom a ktoré sa v priebehu 20. storočia stali dejiskom zločinov dvoch veľkých totalitárnych systémov – nacionálneho socializmu a komunizmu. Mnohé z týchto štátov pritom zažili opakované okupovania, ktoré dnes s regionálne a národne rozdielnym významom ovplyvňujú v týchto štátoch kultúru spomínania rozvíjajúcu sa od roku 1991. Mimoriadne postavenie v tejto diskusii zaujíma vývoj v Ruskej federácii, ktorej sa pripisuje výlučná vina za zločiny spáchané v celom východnom bloku. Pritom sa akoby mimochodom prehliada, že ruské obyvateľstvo sa takisto ako aj krajiny neskôr obsadené Sovietskym zväzom stalo obeťou stalinistických zločinov. Za tieto spomienky ustupujú do úzadia autoritárske režimy medzivojnového obdobia, ktoré tiež prenasledovali osoby alebo skupiny osôb z politických, náboženských a/alebo etnických motívov.

V spojení s vymedzením obdobia po druhej svetovej vojne, hodnotenému výlučne ako obdobie sovietskej cudzovlády, slúžia pozdvihnutiu národnoštátnej identity a nesú sa spolu ruka v ruke s rozsiahlou externalizáciou viny a zodpovednosti – namierenej predovšetkým na Moskvu – ako aj s konštrukciou vlastnej národne zdôvodnenej identity ako obete príp. identity odporu.

S tým spojené je viditeľné zaberanie verejného priestoru

-       vlastnými pomníkmi a symbolmi, ktoré nastupujú na miesto tých doterajších,

-       premenovaním ulíc a verejných zariadení (k čomu patria aj také všedné zariadenia ako kaviarne a reštaurácie),

-       ničením/preformovávaním pamätníkov, vzniknutých pod cudzím vplyvom, ako aj štátnych symbolov, ktoré sa neutralizujú príp. nacionalizujú a tým sa zároveň vymazávajú stopy totalitárnej minulosti,

-       reaktivizáciou národných a náboženských symbolov, s ktorými sa z dôvodu ich tabuizácie a potláčania na verejných priestoroch v období komunistickej nadvlády spája pozitívny význam.

Novo vznikajúce pomníky a miesta spomienok spĺňajú popri funkcii spomínania a uctievania si pamiatky aj informačné úlohy. Na jednej strane sa vyznačia odhalené miesta masakrov a masových hrobov. Na strane druhej sa prostredníctvom inštalovaných informačných tabúľ vytvoria oporné body pre identifikáciu obetí tým, že sa sprístupnia osobné predmety nájdené v masových hroboch ako napríklad púzdra na cigarety, okuliare alebo plniace perá s iniciálami svojich majiteľov a následne sa požiada obyvateľstvo o pomoc pri identifikácii mŕtvych. V nekrológoch sa uverejnia a doplnia mená identifikovaných obetí, aby sa zviditeľnil rozsach utrpených prenasledovaní a zločinov.

Zatiaľ čo sa na zločiny nemeckých okupantov spáchaných počas druhej svetovej vojny a na boj proti nacistickej nadvláde v bývalých socialistických štátoch – i keď len selektívne – spomínalo vo forme pomníkov, múzeí, pamätných miest a rituálov, boli zločiny spáchané Sovietskym zväzom príp. jednotlivými národnými komunistickými mocnármi tabuizované a od roku 1991 zažívajú dodatočnú memoralizáciu.

V predchádzajúcich rokoch vznikla v kedysi komunisticky ovládaných štátoch stredovýchodnej a východnej Európy rozmanitá materiálna základňa spomienok vo forme pomníkov, múzeí a pamätných miest. Rešerše „Spolkovej nadácie pre vysporiadanie sa s dikatúrou Jednotnej socialistickej strany Nemecka“ (Bundesstiftung zur Aufarbeitung der SED-Diktatur) v rámci dokumentačného projektu „Miesta spomienok na komunistické diktatúry“ (Erinnerungsorte an die kommunistischen Diktaturen) zaznamenali doteraz viac než 3500 pomníkov, pamätných miest a múzeí. Medzi nimi sa nachádza aj približne 400 pomníkov, ktoré v Ruskej federácii pripomínajú veľký teror v rokoch 1937/38 alebo asi 300 pomníkov, ktoré boli zriadené v Ukrajine pre obete veľkého hladomoru v rokoch 1932/33. Potlačenie maďarskej revolúcie v roku 1956 pripomína viac než 150 pamätníkov, ktoré sa väčšinou vzťahujú na národnoštátne prípadne konkrétne regionálne udalosti a konkrétne zločiny. Pritom sa pripomínajú akcie, osobnosti alebo skupiny, ktoré slúžili národnému odporu proti komunistickej nadvláde a národnému sebaurčeniu. S tým spojené je aj pozitívne spomienkové rozprávanie, ktoré kladie predovšetkým v pobaltských štátoch a v Ukrajine dôraz na antikomunistický boj a jeho protagonistov znázorňuje ako bojovníkov odporu a obete komunizumu. Do akej miery bol tento odpor spojený zároveň aj so snažením o demokratické hodnoty, je pritom sekundárne.

Pamätníky pripomínajúce zločiny spáchané počas komunistickej nadvlády a ich obete však v žiadnom prípade nevznikli až po zániku komunistických režimov. Tak napríklad bol v roku 1981 v Poznani postavený pamätník venovaný povstaniu v roku 1956. V „slobodnom svete“ vznikli početné pamätníky pripomínajúce komunistické zločiny a ich obete. K nim patria napríklad pamätníky, ktoré boli postavené v západnej Európe, v Kanade alebo v USA pre obete maďarskej revolúcie v roku 1956 alebo pamätníky pripomínajúce zločiny v Katyni.

Po rokoch 1989/90 však v bývalých komunisticky ovládaných štátoch nevznikali len pamätníky a múzeá, ktoré sa kriticky vysporiadavali s minulosťou alebo ktoré boli venované ich obetiam, ale vznikali aj múzeá, pamätné a spomienkové miesta, ktoré boli zriadené s pozitívnym postojom voči komunistickej minulosti. Sem patria napríklad – ako v niektorých bývalých sovietskych republikách – novo vybudované busty Stalina alebo Stalinovi venované múzeá v Tbilisi, múzeá tajných služieb v Dnepropetrovsku alebo v Marijsku.

Táto v minulých rokoch vzniknutá mnohotvárna materiálna kultúra spomínania vo forme tisícok pamätných miest a múzeí, spomienkových znakov, pomníkov, pamätníkov, sakrálnych stavieb a muzálnych parkov však neumožňuje vytvoriť si žiadny záver o tom, ako je v kolektívnej pamäti skutočne zakotvená spomienka na komunistické zločiny alebo aký význam pripisuje väčšina obyvateľstva takýmto znakom na verejných priestoroch. Často boli takéto pamätníky iniciované zo strany súkromných alebo lokálnych iniciatív a zväzov obetí ako reakcia na nedostatok záujmu alebo dokonca odpor väčšiny obyvateľstva alebo štátnych inštitúcií. Prípadné vyvodzovanie homogénnej národnej spomienky z veľkého počtu novo vybudovaných pamätníkov by zahradilo prístup k dnes často vedľa seba existujúcim rôznym spomienkam a rozličným hodnoteniam. Tak napríklad existujú v Ukrajine síce viaceré stovky pamätníkov pripomínajúcich veľký hladomor v rokoch 1932/33, avšak vyvodzovanie záverov len na základe počtu týchto pamätníkov v tom zmysle, že by spomienka na tento hladomor a jeho obete patrila už k spomienkovo-kultúrnemu kánonu novej Ukrajiny, by bolo mylné.

Výstižným príkladom pre túto skutočnosť je aj niekoľko stoviek pamätníkov pre obete stalinských represií alebo gulagov, ktoré vznikli v Ruskej federácii. Na mnohých miestach je však existencia týchto pamätníkov pre väčšinu obyvateľstva neznáma, ani nehovoriac o tom, že by sa cítili byť časťou živej spomienkovej kultúry.

______________________

[1] Ďalšie príklady z Rumunska, Maďarska alebo Chorvátska ako aj z ďalších štátov by sa tiež dali menovať.

Photo of the publication Verbindendes Gedächtnis im 20. Jahrhundert? Das „Europäische Netzwerk Erinnerung und Solidarität“ [...]
Burkhard Olschowsky

Verbindendes Gedächtnis im 20. Jahrhundert? Das „Europäische Netzwerk Erinnerung und Solidarität“ [...]

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Kommunismus
  • Nationalsozialismus
  • Soziale Gedächtnis
  • Vertreibung
  • Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts
  • Totalitarismus
  • Erinnerung des Volkes

Verbindendes Gedächtnis im 20. Jahrhundert? Das „Europäische Netzwerk Erinnerung und Solidarität“ und die Brüche in der Erinnerungslandschaft des alten Kontinents

 

Die Beweggründe, sich zu erinnern, sind so unterschiedlich wie die Personen und Konstellationen, die Erinnerungen anstoßen, konservieren und weitergeben. Bei aller Unterschiedlichkeit von Erinnerungsformen ist es in der Regel der Bezugsrahmen einer Gemeinschaft oder eines Landes, innerhalb dessen Erfahrungen ausgetauscht und Erinnerungen gepflegt werden. Das kollektive Gedächtnis selektiert, bewahrt und übermittelt Ereignisse und Vorgänge, die in Form von Erbe und Tradition vor allem national konnotiert werden.

Das 19. Jahrhundert stand unter dem Signum nationaler Erweckungsbewegungen, die ihren libertären Gehalt in der zweiten Hälfte des Jahrhunderts sukzessive zu Lasten eines aggressiven, häufig xenophoben Konservatismus einbüßten, was Heinrich August Winkler treffend mit dem Wandel vom „linken zum rechten Nationalismus“ umschreibt.[1] Für das 20. Jahrhundert ist eine Dynamisierung von Ereignissen, die beschleunigte Erosion traditioneller Werte und die Totalisierung des Nationalen feststellbar, wovon die europäische Staatenordnung nachhaltig erschüttert wurde. Zu Synonymen für das Neue und Unermessliche des 20. Jahrhunderts wurden Begriffe wie ‚Gewalt‘, ‚totaler Krieg‘, ‚Holocaust‘, ‚Nationalsozialismus‘, ‚Kommunismus‘ und ‚Vertreibungen‘, um nur einige zu nennen.

Das Neue des 20. Jahrhunderts war nicht das Hegemonialstreben der Großmächte an sich, sondern die zerstörerische Wucht der bolschewistischen Revolution mit ihren globalen Weiterungen und die Einzigartigkeit des vom nationalsozialistischen Deutschland entfachten und total geführten Zweiten Weltkriegs. Anders als in früheren Jahrhunderten brachte das europäische Staatensystem die Kraft zur eigenen Abwehr des nunmehr rassistischen Eroberungswahns und zur Erreichung eines selbstbestimmten europäischen Gleichgewichts nicht mehr auf. Die äußere Befreiung vom Nationalsozialismus kam aus dem asiatischen Teil der Sowjetunion und von jenseits des Atlantiks. Der Preis dafür war die Akzeptanz der in Jalta ausgehandelten und in Potsdam notifizierten Teilung Europas, wobei deren Konsequenzen für die Staaten östlich der Elbe weitaus gravierender und schmerzhafter als für jene im Westen waren: der Verlust von Freiheit, sowohl die Beschneidung der staatlichen Souveränität wie die von Lebenschancen einzelner Menschen, durch eine nach sowjetischem Muster errichtete Staatenordnung.[2]

*

In Westeuropa stand die Entwicklung unter anderen Vorzeichen. Hier nahmen die Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika die Vorbildrolle ein; die parlamentarisch-liberale Demokratie setzte sich in der Mehrzahl der Länder durch, was nicht zuletzt auf die lehrreiche Erfahrung mit den Gefährdungen der Demokratie in der Zwischenkriegszeit und auch die einprägsame Negativkontrastierung durch den diktatorischen „Ostblock“ zurückzuführen war. Die zwanzigjährige Hochkonjunktur der Weltwirtschaft in der Nachkriegszeit tat ein Übriges, um Stabilität und Wohlstand im Westen zu generieren, was wiederum einer allmählichen lebensweltlichen Entfremdung vom östlichen Teil Europas Vorschub leistete. Die erfolgreiche ökonomische und politische Integration Westeuropas blieb nicht ohne Folgen auf die inhaltliche Füllung der Vorstellungen, welche Eliten und Gesellschaften von Europa hegten.[3]

Wenn von Europa die Rede war, so war in Paris, Bonn oder Brüssel seit den 1960er Jahren selbstredend Westeuropa gemeint. Mehr noch: die Region zwischen Rhein, Maas und Mosel als administratives und wirtschaftliches Zentrum der Europäischen Gemeinschaft machte bereits Skandinavien und das Mittelmeer zur Peripherie. Das östliche Europa dagegen figurierte in der Vorstellungswelt der meisten Westeuropäer als grauer Einheitsblock oder verschwand aus deren Bewusstsein. Die Westeuropäer hielten sich zusehends für die Vertreter des ‚eigentlichen‘ Europa, wobei ihnen die Absenz der anderen Hälfte bald nicht mehr auffiel. Nur Wenige haben vor dem Fall der Mauer das Fehlen des Ostens in der westlichen Wahrnehmung thematisiert.[4]

Dass die Spaltung des Kontinents in Ost und West, in totalitäre/autoritäre und demokratische Systeme kein ‚natürliches Ergebnis‘ des Zweiten Weltkriegs war, davon zeugen die Föderationsprojekte, die Widerstandsgruppen quer über Europa für die Zeit nach dem erhofften Sieg über das Dritte Reich entwickelten. Ernst Friedländer spricht gar von der „Geburt des europäischen Föderalismus aus dem Geist des Widerstandes“.[5] Die Lehre, die aus dem eklatanten Versagen des Völkerbundes und dem verheerenden Nationalismus, insbesondere dem Nationalsozialismus, zu ziehen war, hieß europäische Einigung. Wichtige Dokumente dieses Erneuerungswillens wie das „Manifest von Buchenwald“ trugen selbstverständlich die Unterschriften von West- und Osteuropäern. Als im Mai 1948 über 600 Vertreter europäischer Nationen in Den Haag zum „Europa-Kongress“ zusammenkamen, fehlten vor dem Tagungsgebäude nicht die Fahnen der osteuropäischen Staaten. Allerdings wurden diese Länder damals nur noch durch Exilanten vertreten. Im Oktober 1948 auf dem Weltkongress der Intellektuellen für den Frieden in Breslau/Wrocław waren westliche Vertreter zwar anwesend,[6] aber die sowjetische Regie arbeitete auf die ideologische Spaltung Europas hin.[7]

Die östliche Hälfte des Kontinents insgesamt wie der geistige Anteil von Osteuropäern an europäischen Föderationsplänen drohten fortan in Vergessenheit zu geraten und wären wohl gänzlich aus dem Blickfeld der westeuropäischen Öffentlichkeit verschwunden, hätte es nicht Exilanten gegeben, die in Zeiten des Kalten Krieges versuchten, individuell und durch eigens gegründete Zeitschriften und Zirkel die östlichen Erfahrungswelten nicht dem Vergessen anheimfallen zu lassen. Zu den Zentren der Exilliteratur und -publizistik gehörten für die Tschechoslowakei der in Toronto ansässige Verlag „Sixty-Eight Publishers Corporation“ und die „Freie Presse Agentur“ in Wurmannsquick,[8] für Ungarn die letztlich in München herausgegebenen Zeitschriften Új Látóhatar und Nemzetőr sowie die politisch maßgebende, in deutsch erscheinende Europäische Rundschau aus Wien.[9] Für Polen erlangte die in Paris erscheinende Zeitschrift Kultura einen beträchtlichen Einfluss unter den literarischen wie politischen Emigranten und inspirierte die intellektuellen Diskurse und das oppositionelle Milieu im Lande.[10]

Gegen die machtpolitische Zweiteilung Europas und, gravierender noch, gegen deren Gewöhnung und kulturelle Akzeptanz unter Westeuropäern schrieben Dutzende von ostmitteleuropäischen Intellektuellen und Dissidenten an. Es waren der Exiltscheche Milan Kundera mit seinem berühmten Essay Un Occident kidnappé oder Die Tragödie Zentraleuropas und das Buch Antipolitik des ungarischen Soziologen György Konrád, die die Mitteleuropa-Debatte Mitte der 1980er Jahre auslösten. Kundera konstatierte nach 1945 eine Verschiebung der alten Grenze zwischen Katholizismus und Orthodoxie um einige hundert Kilometer nach Westen, sodass das geographische Zentrum Europas nunmehr kulturell im Westen und politisch im Osten lag.[11] Konrád betrachtete die „Antipolitik“ als Mittel, um sich dieser willkürlichen Teilung zu widersetzen. Gesellschaften, die dem Druck eines totalitären Staates ausgesetzt sind, müssen seiner Meinung nach lernen, ihr eigenes Leben zu führen, indem sie zahlreiche Formen der Zusammenarbeit und des Sich-Vereinigens entwickeln und auf diese Weise Schritt für Schritt eine Grenzen überschreitende bürgerliche Gesellschaft aufbauen.[12]

Während ungarische und tschechoslowakische Autoren – mit dem steten Bezug auf Russland bzw. die Sowjetunion – zur Debatte über ihr Selbstverständnis und den Grad ihrer Zivilisiertheit neigten, war die polnische Diskussion über Mitteleuropa stärker von Themen wie dem Verhältnis zu den beiden deutschen Staaten und zur Sowjetunion geprägt. Die geographische Lage des Landes legte geradezu eine Klärung des Verhältnisses Polens zu seinen Nachbarn nahe.[13] Mit der Mitteleuropa-Debatte machten die Intellektuellen aus dem „Ostblock“ auf die Wahrnehmungsdefizite in Westeuropa aufmerksam und brachten ihre europäische Identität zur Geltung.[14]

Die wohl nachhaltigste Wirkung besaß die über vierzigjährige politische Teilung des Kontinents in Ost und West, in autoritäre/totalitäre und demokratische Systeme. Der Zufall, in die eine oder andere Staatsform geboren oder geraten zu sein, hatte für die dort Lebenden erhebliche, bisweilen lebensbedrohliche Konsequenzen, wenn es galt, Wahrheit und Lüge zu unterscheiden und dieses auch angstfrei aussprechen zu wollen. Der polnische Dichter Czesław Miłosz flüchtete 1951 in den Westen und schilderte in seinem zwei Jahre später erschienenen Essay Verführtes Denken das Verhalten von Intellektuellen im Stalinismus, das von Angst, Unterwürfigkeit, aber auch Loyalität gegenüber den Machthabern geprägt war. Karl Jaspers würdigte diese Bemühungen des späteren Literaturnobelpreisträgers wie folgt: „Miłosz schreibt nicht wie ein bekehrter Kommunist, man merkt bei ihm nichts von jenem aggressiven Fanatismus der Freiheit, der in Gebärde, Ton und Handeln wie ein umgekehrter Totalitarismus wirkt. Er schreibt auch nicht als oppositioneller Emigrant, der praktisch an Umsturz und Rückkehr denkt. Er spricht als der erschütterte Mensch, der mit dem Willen zur Gerechtigkeit, zur unverstellten Wahrheit durch die Analyse des im Terror Geschehenden zugleich sich selber zeigt.“[15]

Miłosz’ Kenntnisse der östlichen und westlichen Welt, seine Sensibilität wie auch sein Einfühlungsvermögen hoben ihn damals von den Herrschaftsunterworfenen im Osten, aber auch nicht wenigen Intellektuellen im Westen ab, die der Sowjetunion die Niederwerfung des Nationalsozialismus zugutehielten und den Januskopf des Kommunismus mit seiner Immanenz von Gewalt und ideologischer Vereinnahmung nicht sahen bzw. nicht sehen wollten. Die von Miłosz in seinem späteren Schaffen unter Beweis gestellte Fähigkeit zur Einsicht und Empathie war auch nach dem Ende der Blockkonfrontation 1989 keineswegs selbstverständlich. Vielmehr ist eine geteilte Erinnerung zwischen Ost- und Westeuropa zu beobachten, nur dass nunmehr die Trennungslinie durch die ökonomisch und politisch erweiterte Europäische Union verläuft.[16]

*

Die Aktualität und Brisanz der geteilten europäischen Erinnerung ist zu Beginn des 21. Jahrhunderts im Zuge der Erweiterung der Europäischen Union sichtbar geworden. Im Folgenden soll versucht werden, am Beispiel des Umgangs mit dem Nationalsozialismus und Kommunismus, speziell am Thema Vertreibungen und Zwangsmigrationen, die Unwägbarkeiten und Brüche innerhalb der europäischen Erinnerungslandschaft zu verdeutlichen.

Vertreibungserfahrungen stehen im europäischen Kontext des 20. Jahrhunderts, aber sie werden nicht als europäische, sondern in der Regel als nationale erinnert. Die Erinnerung an Flucht und Vertreibung folgte je nach Land und Generation eigenen Bildern, die wiederum von offiziellen Stellen unterstützt oder ausgeblendet werden konnten und daher erheblichen Veränderungen unterlagen. Dies verwundert nicht, schließlich wird zunächst daran erinnert, was man selbst erlebt, gesehen oder gehört hat. Die Perspektive der unmittelbaren Erlebniswelt kann dazu führen, dass die großen historischen Vorgänge, die für die Nachwelt zusammenhängen, von der Erlebnisgeneration separiert wahrgenommen werden. Individuelle Erinnerung verläuft nicht selten quer zu den großen historischen Ereignissen und ist dennoch – oder gerade deshalb – so wichtig. Sie speichert Dialekte, Landschaftsbilder, Gewohnheiten, ja selbst Gerüche und unterliegt zugleich im Laufe von Jahren Veränderungen. Ängste und Verunsicherungen können individuelle Erinnerung ebenso beeinflussen wie die Fähigkeit zur Selbstreflexion, ja sogar zur Selbstkorrektur. Die individuelle Erinnerung an Vertreibung ist wertvoll durch ihre Authentizität und zugleich anfechtbar durch ihre Emotionalität. Diese Spannung ist nicht auflösbar, aber doch beherrschbar, indem Menschenschicksale anderer Länder mit Empathie wahrgenommen werden und sich die Erkenntnis durchsetzt, dass die Umsiedlungs- und Vertreibungserfahrung für den Einzelnen – unabhängig davon, ob es sich dabei um Polen, Ukrainer oder Deutsche handelte – gleichermaßen schmerzhaft sein mochte. Das kollektive Gedächtnis über Vertreibung, welches sekundäre, nicht unmittelbar erfahrungsgesättigte Erinnerung mit einschließt, darf sich dem Bemühen um moralische Empfindsamkeit gegenüber den Untaten der eigenen Landsleute und der Reflexion über Ursachen und Wirkung von Vertreibungen nicht entziehen. Erst dann hebt sich kollektives Gedächtnis von einer bloßen Addition von Einzelerfahrungen ab und wird von der individuellen Erinnerung tatsächlich unterscheidbar.

Diese Unterscheidbarkeit basiert nicht zuletzt auf dem Vetorecht der je persönlichen Erinnerung, die sich gegen jede Vereinnahmung in ein Erinnerungskollektiv sperrt. Nach Reinhart Koselleck gehört es „zur oft beschworenen und ebenso oft vergeblich beschworenen Würde des Menschen, dass er einen Anspruch auf seine eigene Erinnerung hat“. Bei der inflationär gewordenen Redeweise von der „kollektiven Erinnerung“ rät Koselleck zur Behutsamkeit: „Es gibt keine kollektive Erinnerung, wohl aber kollektive Bedingungen möglicher Erinnerungen. So wie es immer überindividuelle Bedingungen und Voraussetzungen der je eigenen Erfahrungen gibt, so gibt es auch soziale, mentale, religiöse, politische, konfessionelle Bedingungen – nationale natürlich – möglicher Erinnerungen. Sie wirken dann als Schleusen, durch die hindurch die persönlichen Erfahrungen gefiltert werden, so dass sich klar unterscheidbare Erinnerungen festsetzen. Die politischen, sozialen, konfessionellen oder sonstigen Voraussetzungen begrenzen also die Erinnerungen und geben sie zugleich frei.“[17]

Angesichts der Schwierigkeiten der geeigneten Form von Erinnerung und deren Korrektiv stellt sich die Frage: Welche Rolle kann die Geschichtswissenschaft bei der Vergegenwärtigung von historischen Ereignissen spielen? Hans Günter Hockerts hat die begriffliche Trias „Primärerfahrung, Erinnerungskultur und Geschichtswissenschaft“ als typologisierenden Zugang zur Zeitgeschichte angeregt. Dabei meint Primärerfahrung die selbst erlebte Vergangenheit, Erinnerungskultur die Gesamtheit eines nicht spezifisch wissenschaftlichen Gebrauchs von Geschichte in der Öffentlichkeit mit unterschiedlichsten Mitteln und zu verschiedenen Zwecken. Dass Geschichte instrumentell eingesetzt wird und die Bedürfnisse des ‚Infotainment‘ befriedigt, ist insbesondere bei der Zeitgeschichte zu beobachten. Fachwissenschaftliche Interventionen und Korrekturbemühungen stoßen hier schnell an Grenzen.[18]

Konstitutiv für die Wissenschaft ist, dass sie Standards eines „systematischen, regelhaften und nachprüfbaren Wissenserwerbs“ entwickelt hat. Sie ist sich auch der Standortgebundenheit historischer Erkenntnis bewusst und legt Prämissen mehr oder minder explizit offen. Strittig waren und bleiben dagegen Einordnungen, Gewichtungen und Verknüpfungen, zumal sie sich nur selten mit fachwissenschaftlichen Kriterien entscheiden lassen. Hier hat nicht nur die Multiperspektivität ihren legitimen Platz. Hier kann es auch nicht um die regelhaft gewünschte „Objektivität“ gehen, weil es keinen Fixpunkt für deren Überprüfbarkeit gibt. Wohl aber muss intersubjektive Überprüfbarkeit im wissenschaftlichen Diskurs als Kontrolle und Korrektur dienen. „Erinnerungsvielfalt heißt nicht, alles für erlaubt zu erklären. Die Fachkompetenz kann dazu beitragen, dass Pluralität nicht zur Beliebigkeit verkommt“ und Legenden entschieden entgegengetreten wird.[19]

Auch wenn methodische Zweifel angebracht sind, ob die Charakterisierung des europäischen 20. Jahrhunderts als ‚das Jahrhundert der Vertreibungen‘ tragfähig ist, kann zumindest die quantitative Dichte an erzwungenen Migrationen in der ersten Hälfte des vergangenen Jahrhunderts kaum geleugnet werden. Als Beispiele lassen sich unter anderem die Vertreibung der Armenier aus der Türkei 1915, der griechisch-türkische „Bevölkerungsaustausch“ von 1922, die Vertreibung von Polen durch den deutschen Aggressor 1939, die Deportation von Tschetschenen und Inguschen 1944 und die Vertreibung von Deutschen aus dem östlichen Europa 1945–1948 nennen. Allen diesen Zwangsmigrationen war gemeinsam, dass sie sich gegen Ethnien richteten, die mit Hilfe der Mobilisierung negativer nationaler Empfindungen und gezielter Propagandakampagnen als fremd und gefährlich kontrastiert werden konnten. Dabei wurde das vermeintliche oder tatsächliche illoyale Verhalten der betreffenden Bevölkerungsgruppe gegenüber dem Staat oder gegenüber anderen Bevölkerungsgruppen zum Anlass für jene Zwangsmigrationen genommen und/oder diese politisch damit gerechtfertigt. Die Vertreibungsvorgänge selbst waren in der Regel mit kollektiver Entrechtung, massiver Gewalt und individueller Entwürdigung verbunden und unterlagen in ihrem Verlauf bisweilen einer inhumanen Dynamik, die über das, was die politischen Entscheidungsträger mitunter als „humanen und geregelten Bevölkerungstransfer“ definierten, bei weitem und zu Lasten der Betroffenen hinausging.[20]

Neben den Gemeinsamkeiten gibt es elementare Unterschiede zwischen den genannten Zwangsmigrationen. Sie konnten vor allem ethnisch, politisch, ideologisch oder rassistisch motiviert sein, sich nach dem Inneren eines Landes richten oder nach außen wirken. In den ersten drei Jahrzehnten des 20. Jahrhunderts geschahen Vertreibungen auf dem Kontinent vom Inneren eines Landes aus und wurden wie z. B. der griechisch-türkische Konflikt mit dem Vertrag von Lausanne im Jahre 1923 völkerrechtlich zumindest nachträglich sanktioniert. Diese Konfliktregelung diente im vorliegenden Fall der politischen Entschärfung der griechisch-türkischen Auseinandersetzungen, auch wenn diese Art der Übereinkunft auf dem Rücken der Betroffenen ausgetragen wurde, Heimatverlust mit sich brachte sowie Traumatisierte und Tote hinterließ.

Mit dem Zweiten Weltkrieg veränderte sich der Charakter von Vertreibungen erheblich. Die Nationalsozialisten benutzten nach dem Überfall auf Polen Vertreibungen erstmals als Mittel einer hemmungslosen Eroberungspolitik, indem sie Bevölkerungsgruppen wie die sogenannten Volksdeutschen ungefragt auf der Landkarte verschoben, Millionen von Polen, Russen, Ukrainern und Tschechen ihrer Heimat beraubten und Juden systematisch ermordeten. Ohne den Nationalsozialismus mit seiner brachialen Umsiedlungs- und Ausrottungspolitik im östlichen Europa hätte es die Vertreibung der Deutschen nach 1945 nicht gegeben. NS-Deutschland war es, das Vertreibungen zur Durchsetzung seiner verheerenden Lebensraumpolitik durchführte und damit ein fatales Verhaltensmuster in Europa etablierte, das insbesondere Stalin ausnutzte.[21]

Während die Nationalsozialisten aus rassistischen und siedlungspolitischen Gründen vertrieben und mordeten, taten es die Bolschewiki aus ideologischen und innenpolitischen Gründen. Was das „Dritte Reich“ und die Sowjetunion teilten, waren ihre imperialen Ansprüche und utopischen Reinheitsphantasien, wie Jörg Baberowski feststellt. Die Sowjetunion war ein Vielvölkerreich, bevor die Bolschewiki damit begannen, es nach ihren Vorstellungen neu zu ordnen. Das „Dritte Reich“ war ein Nationalstaat, der sich durch kriegerische Expansion in ein Vielvölkerimperium verwandelte. „Es eignete sich jene Ambivalenz erst an, die seine politischen Führer nicht ertragen konnten. Beide Regime, Nationalsozialisten wie Bolschewiki potenzierten das Chaos, das sie mit ihren Ordnungsentwürfen beseitigen wollten. Denn als sie sich über die vertrauten Ordnungen hinausbegaben, um fremde Welten zu erobern und zu zerstören, zeigten sich ihnen nicht nur fremde Verhältnisse, sondern existentielle Bedrohungen ihrer Gesellschaftsentwürfe. Deshalb lernten die Eroberer die Welt jenseits der vertrauten Ordnungen nur als feindlichen Gegenentwurf kennen.“[22]

Nationalsozialisten und Bolschewiki hatten den Ersten Weltkrieg und den folgenden Bürgerkrieg vor allem als Kämpfe erlebt, die sich in einem multiethnischen und gewalttätigen Kontext ereigneten. Während die einen „Barbaren“ und „Untermenschen“ ausmachten, sahen die anderen „Verräter“ und „Feinde“, die sich in Rassen und Ethnien verkörperten. Diese Erfahrungen waren wesentlich für die Herausbildung der nationalsozialistischen und bolschewistischen Ordnungsprogramme und Säuberungsphantasien.[23]

„Das Besatzungsregime der Nationalsozialisten in der Ukraine, in Weißrußland und im Baltikum veränderte seit 1941 nicht nur die ethnische Landkarte der Sowjetunion. Es veränderte auch die Selbstwahrnehmung der betroffenen ethnischen Gruppen und das Denken der Bolschewiki über das Imperium. Juden waren jetzt nur noch Juden, Deutsche nur noch Deutsche und Tschetschenen nur noch Tschetschenen. Was sie sonst noch waren, verlor nach den Erfahrungen des Zweiten Weltkrieges für alle Seiten an Bedeutung. Während des Krieges ethnisierte und biologisierte sich die Feindrhetorik der Bolschewiki, sie antworteten auf die Zumutungen, die die Nationalsozialisten in die Sowjetunion getragen hatten. Ohne die Eroberung und Erschließung fremder Räume, die von Feinden bewohnt wurden, hätten Nationalsozialisten und Bolschewiki ihren totalen Krieg gegen innere und äußere Feinde nicht entfesseln können. Deshalb war das Imperium der historische Ort des totalitären Ordnungsentwurfs.“[24]

Angesichts des Verhältnisses von Ursache und Wirkung sowie der oben skizzierten Dynamisierung des Ordnungs- und Vertreibungswillens ist die Verwendung des Begriffes ‚Jahrhundert der Vertreibungen‘ problematisch. In der Ausrichtung auf die longue durée besteht die Gefahr einer chronologischen Aneinanderreihung von Vertreibungsvorgängen – begonnen mit der Vertreibung und dem Mord an den Armeniern 1915 und endend mit den ethnischen Säuberungen im Jugoslawien der 1990er Jahre. Eine solche quantitative Herangehensweise erklärt wenig, suggeriert hingegen Zusammenhänge zwischen den Einzelereignissen, die nicht existieren, und befördert die nivellierende Botschaft, dass Vertreibungen als zu ächtende Vorgänge alle gleichermaßen verwerflich seien. Die Ursachen einzelner Vertreibungen, seien sie ethnisch, politisch, ideologisch oder rassistisch motiviert, bleiben bei einer derartig generalisierenden Betrachtung unterbelichtet. Notwendig ist dagegen neben der Vergegenwärtigung der obwaltenden Ordnungsvorstellungen die Rekonstruktion der Bezüge und Horizonte, in denen sich das vielfach leidvolle Vertreibungsgeschehen abgespielt hat.[25]

Zudem waren Vertreibungen kein Phänomen, das Europa im Ganzen im 20. Jahrhundert tangierte – es war vor allem ein Mittel der Politik im östlichen Europa. Holm Sundhaussen hat über die Zwangsmigrationen in Südosteuropa geschrieben, dass diese auf das strukturelle Zusammenwirken von zwei Faktoren zurückgingen, die Kombination eines zentralistischen, französischen Staatsmodells mit dem kulturellen, von der Abstammung abgeleiteten „deutschen“ oder auch mitteleuropäischen Nationsmodell.[26] Philipp Ther übertrug diesen Befund auf die ostmitteleuropäischen Staaten. Aus multilingualen, vorwiegend durch politische Werte zusammengehaltenen Reichsnationen wurden in der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts und des frühen 20. Jahrhunderts Staatsnationen, die eine höhere Identifikation von ihren Bewohnern verlangten. Der Zwang zur Eindeutigkeit in ethnisch multiplen Gesellschaften fand zum Beispiel seinen Ausdruck bei Volkszählungen, in denen sich die Menschen für eine bestimmte Nationalität entscheiden mussten.[27]

Dieser Zwang zur Eindeutigkeit wurde in der Zwischenkriegszeit mit dem grundsätzlich begrüßenswerten Minderheitenschutz als Gestaltungsprinzip internationaler Politik auf die Probe gestellt. Bei Konflikten griff nun der Völkerbund ein und bestimmte beispielsweise beim Schulenstreit in Oberschlesien, wer Deutscher und wer Pole war.[28] Die nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg geschaffene nationalstaatliche Ordnung brachte auf internationaler Ebene mit sich, dass sich nach vermeintlich objektiven Kriterien definierte Nationen und nationale Minderheiten gegenüberstanden. Als sich dann die sozialen Spannungen im Zuge der Weltwirtschaftskrise verschärften, hatte dieses ethnische Strukturprinzip der Gesellschaft fatale Folgen für die Minderheiten im östlichen Europa.

*

Die Erinnerungen an das gewalttätige 20. Jahrhundert und den Zweiten Weltkrieg, der die Landkarte Europas gründlich veränderte, haben mit dem Revolutionsjahr 1989 an Kontur gewonnen. Was sich ökonomisch seit längerem und politisch seit der EU-Osterweiterung mit dem Wort Homogenisierung beschreiben lässt, gilt nicht für das kollektive Gedächtnis der europäischen Nationen. Während Auschwitz für das vor dem Ende des Sowjetimperiums vereinte (West-)Europa durchaus als verbindlicher negativer Bezugspunkt denkbar ist, empfinden die Bevölkerungen der Länder Osteuropas diesen kaum als ihren identitätsstiftenden Fluchtpunkt. Es treten zwei Opfergeschichten in eine beunruhigende, weil scheinbar unauflösbare Konkurrenz: Holocaust und GULag, Nationalsozialismus und Stalinismus.[29]

Deutschland und Polen befinden sich in einem mitteleuropäischen Raum für den die nationalsozialistische und kommunistische Erfahrung konstitutiv waren. Zudem verkörpern beide Staaten die Teilung Europas in zwei Gedächtniskulturen. Polen und Deutschland sind wie wenige andere Länder des Kontinents durch beide Diktaturen geprägt aber auch gepeinigt, im Falle Polens nach Westen verschoben und im Falle Deutschlands geteilt worden. Polen wie (West-)Deutschen ging es seit Ende des Krieges und geht es nach wie vor darum, das „Dritte Reich“ und den Zweiten Weltkrieg in die je eigene nationale Geschichtserzählung zu integrieren – ein Vorgang, der sich stetig wiederholt und gemäß den aktuellen Bedürfnissen und Standpunkten seine Akzente ändert.

Das gilt in hohem Maße für beide Länder, weil ihre jahrhundertealte Nachbarschaft dazu geführt hat, dass die Geschichte der einen Nation zumindest für bestimmte Regionen und Phasen zugleich zu einem Bestandteil der Geschichte der anderen geworden ist. Auch wenn diese Verschränkung nicht symmetrisch verläuft, Polen häufiger mit deutscher Politik und Kultur in Berührung kam als umgekehrt, schien das Revolutionsjahr 1989, das Ende der Blockkonfrontation und das Scheitern des Kommunismus, die Gewähr zu bieten, nunmehr vorbehaltlos deutsche und polnische Erinnerungsstränge zu betrachten und ihre Schnittstellen zu deuten. Das Revolutionsjahr 1989 erweiterte das Feld der Gedächtniskultur um die Geschichte der kommunistischen Diktatur im Zeichen der SED und PVAP.[30]

Dieser Erwartung wurden die Historiker beider Länder in der Tradition der westdeutsch-polnischen Schulbuchgespräche und nunmehr frei von politischen Rücksichtnahmen durchaus gerecht, sie erwies sich jedoch mit Blick auf die deutsche und polnische Öffentlichkeit als voreilig. Die Etablierung einer neuen Gedächtniskultur, bezogen auf die jeweils eigene Geschichte, hatte Vorrang. Diesseits von Oder und Neiße war es vor allem die „Aufarbeitung von Geschichte und Folgen der SED-Diktatur“, so auch der Auftrag und Name der parlamentarischen Enquete-Kommission, die mit der Öffnung der Stasi-Akten dem elementaren informationellen Selbstbestimmungsrecht der Ostdeutschen entsprach, aber auch das (Enthüllungs-)Interesse der medialen Öffentlichkeit bediente, die eine weitgehend westdeutsche war. Etwas Ähnliches gab es in Polen nicht.

Sosehr die Thematisierung der zweiten deutschen Diktatur ein legitimes ostdeutsches Anliegen war, so pharisäerhaft war die weitverbreitete Meinung, diese sei scheinbar allein die Aufgabe der Bürger der neuen Bundesländer, gleichsam ihre Pflichtübung, um sich zu jenen Demokraten zu läutern, die die ehemals Westdeutschen angeblich schon gewesen waren. Der Zufall, westlich von Elbe und Werra aufgewachsen zu sein, machte nicht gefeit gegen die alltäglichen menschlichen Unzulänglichkeiten – die vielen Feigheiten, Verrätereien und Machtgelüste. Die Deutschen in der Demokratie hatten das Glück, dass sie die Konsequenzen ihres Verhaltens während des „Dritten Reichs“ nicht so drastisch zu spüren hatten, wie es das kommunistische System den Bewohnern der ehemaligen DDR in Form vierzigjähriger Vormundschaft abverlangte. Die politischen „Schulden“ der deutschen Vergangenheit, so die Politikwissenschaftlerin Gesine Schwan, „liegen in einer in beiden Hälften des Landes noch immer nicht überwundenen Tradition, Freiheit und Toleranz als zentrale Pfeiler der Demokratie zu unterschätzen beziehungsweise um wesentliche Bedeutungsmomente zu verkürzen“.[31]

Als wissenschaftlich produktiv erwiesen sich die in den 1990er Jahren begonnenen Vergleichsstudien von nationalsozialistischer und kommunistischer Diktatur – nicht um beide Systeme gleichzusetzen oder den Rassenwahn und den Vernichtungskrieg des Nationalsozialismus zu relativieren, sondern um Unterschiede, Ähnlichkeiten und etwaige Gemeinsamkeiten zwischen den beiden deutschen Diktaturen strukturell zu erfassen und zu analysieren; um die jeweiligen Spezifika beider Systeme, aber auch die mögliche Kontinuität kultureller Muster und Verhaltensweisen herauszuarbeiten. Die Ergebnisse dieser Vergleiche sind inhaltlich beachtlich wie methodisch anregend und können eine Grundlage für weiterführende Vergleiche von europäischen Diktaturen im 20. Jahrhundert sein.[32]

*

Die Situation in Polen war nach 1989 dadurch gekennzeichnet, dass hier keine Notwendigkeit bestand, sich mit einer zweigeteilten Vergangenheit mit all ihren medialen Begleiterscheinungen auseinandersetzen zu müssen. Ähnlich wie in den neuen Bundesländern hingegen galt es, Kriterien des Umgangs mit der diktatorischen Vergangenheit aus einem geistigen Zustand heraus zu entwickeln, der zwar nicht inhaltlich, aber doch strukturell erheblich von dem System geprägt worden war, mit dem nun abgerechnet werden sollte. Die erste frei gewählte Regierung im „Ostblock“ unter Premier Tadeusz Mazowiecki vermied eine Abrechnung mit der kommunistischen Vergangenheit, wobei sie sich mit einem Gros der öffentlichen Meinung Polens im Einklang wusste. Dieses Vorgehen, als Politik des „dicken Striches“ gegenüber der Vergangenheit von ihr selbst so bezeichnet, mochte die empfindlichen Startbedingungen seiner Regierung verbessern, zeitigte jedoch insofern negative Langzeitfolgen, als die kathartische Aufarbeitung von individuellem, schuldhaftem Verhalten in der Diktatur Volkspolens weitgehend ausblieb.[33]

In den 1990er Jahren stimulierte dieser Zustand Verdächtigung und Denunziation, die zur politischen Instrumentalisierung missbraucht werden konnten. Mehr noch, die Tatsache, dass die „Dritte Republik“ nicht mit ihrem unrechtmäßigen Vorgänger ostentativ gebrochen hatte, beeinflusste die Einstellung der Bürger zu ihrem Staat. Da die Vorstellung, der neue Staat sichere die Partikularinteressen der alten Eliten, breiten Widerhall fand, blieb die Skepsis gegenüber den regierenden „Anderen“ bestehen.[34]

Rudolf Jaworski machte Mitte der 1990er Jahre geradezu gegensätzliche Trends in den Gedächtniskulturen Deutschlands und Polens aus. Seit der deutschen Einheit sei „eine selbstbestätigende Rückbesinnung auf die nun gleichsam wiedervereinigte deutsche Geschichte ebenso unverkennbar wie eine zunehmende Geschichtsmüdigkeit im postkommunistischen Polen“. Die neu eröffneten Chancen zu einer aktiven Gegenwarts- und Zukunftsgestaltung habe in Polen zu einer Abschwächung der vordem geradezu zwanghaften Fixierung auf ihre eigene Vergangenheit beigetragen, während umgekehrt die Deutschen sich selbstbewusster ihrer früher eher verdrängten oder sogar verleugneten Geschichte zuwenden würden.[35]

Diese für die 1990er Jahre zutreffende Beobachtung hat im neuen Jahrzehnt vor allem für Polen an Plausibilität eingebüßt. Seit dem Jahr 2000 ist eine intensive Beschäftigung mit der eigenen Vergangenheit in den Medien wie der breiten Öffentlichkeit in Gang gekommen. Auslöser dieser neuen Hinwendung zur Geschichte war die Jedwabne-Debatte und die Frage, ob und in welchem Maße Polen das Pogrom an den jüdischen Bewohnern des Ortes Jedwabne im Juli 1941 verübten. Diese Debatte war ein schmerzhafter und zugleich wichtiger Markstein für die Erinnerungsarbeit der polnischen Gesellschaft, stand doch nicht weniger auf dem Prüfstand als das sorgsam tradierte martyrologische Selbstverständnis vieler Polen. Nach Auffassung der als moralische Autorität betrachteten Publizistin und ehemaligen Solidarność-Aktivistin Halina Bortnowska wurden infolge dieser offen wie emotional geführten Debatte nationale, auch in Volkspolen gepflegte Selbstbilder hinterfragt, vor allem jenes des ewig unschuldigen Opfers, das in der Jedwabne-Debatte auf dramatische Weise mit dem genuinen Antisemitismus kollidierte.[36]

*

Neuen Zündstoff erhielt die Diskussion um den besonderen Platz des Holocaust in der europäischen Erinnerungskultur. Diesen Zündstoff lieferten das Ende der Blockkonfrontation und die kollektiv ähnlichen Erinnerungen der Osteuropäer, in denen das Leid unter dem kommunistischen Joch nach Jahrzehnten der Indoktrination und des Schweigens nun seine Artikulation fand und wofür um Verständnis auch im Westen des Kontinents geworben wurde. Exemplarisch dafür ist die Rede der damaligen lettischen Außenministerin und frühere EU-Kommissarin Sandra Kalniete am 24. März 2004 auf der Leipziger Buchmesse. Sandra Kalniete wies in ihrer Ansprache darauf hin, dass nach der Befreiung vom nationalsozialistischen Grauen im Jahre 1945 „in der einen Hälfte Europas der Terror weiterging und dass auf der anderen Seite des Eisernen Vorhangs das sowjetische Regime die Verfolgung und Vernichtung der Völker Osteuropas und auch des eigenen fortsetzte. Fünfzig Jahre wurde die Geschichte Europas ohne uns geschrieben, als Geschichte der Sieger mit der dafür typischen Einteilung in Gute und Böse; in die, die im Recht sind, und die, die Unrecht haben. Erst als der Eiserne Vorhang fiel, erhielten Forscher endlich Zugang zu Archivdokumenten und den Lebensgeschichten der Opfer, die die Tatsache bestätigten, dass beide totalitären Regime, der Nationalsozialismus und der Kommunismus, gleichermaßen verbrecherisch waren.“[37]

Diese letzten Worte waren es, die Salomon Korn, den stellvertretenden Vorsitzenden des Zentralrats der Juden in Deutschland, veranlassten, den Saal demonstrativ zu verlassen. In einem Interview mit der Leipziger Volkszeitung nannte er die Gleichsetzung der Verbrechen der Sowjetunion und des Nationalsozialismus „unerträglich“.[38] Manche Kommentatoren fühlten sich an den „Historikerstreit“ von 1986 erinnert.[39] Sandra Kalniete ging es darum, auf die im Westen kaum bekannten genozidalen Erfahrungen des Zweimillionenvolkes der Letten aufmerksam zu machen, unter denen fast jede Familie persönlich überlieferte Geschichten aus dem GULag erzählen kann – so auch Sandra Kalniete selbst, wie in ihrem Buch Mit Ballschuhen im sibirischen Schnee nachzulesen ist.[40]

In Deutschland rief das Buch Lob, aber auch vehemente Kritik hervor.[41] Hinter dem Hinweis auf die vermeintlich dominante Kollaboration der Letten mit den Nationalsozialisten verbarg sich das Unbehagen,[42] der Holocaust als Gründungsmythos (West-)Europas werde durch den „Osten“ nicht geteilt. Im „Osten“ hingegen wurde das „westliche“ Erinnerungsprimat von vielen als anmaßend empfunden, auch weil sie die eigenen Erfahrungen und Zumutungen eines vormundschaftlichen Kommunismus in der „westlichen“ Erinnerungskultur nicht oder nicht ausreichend wiedererkannten.[43]

Auch wenn der Kontinent nunmehr politisch die Jalta-Ordnung, jene Spaltung in einen diktatorischen Osten und einen demokratischen Westen als Folge des Zweiten Weltkriegs, überwunden hat, so wirken die Erinnerungskulturen von Ost- und Westeuropa nach wie vor nebeneinander, nicht selten gegeneinander, so als hätten sich die Zumutungen des Lebens hinter dem Eisernen Vorhang tiefer, als in westeuropäischen Hauptstädten für möglich gehalten, im Gedächtnis der Ostmitteleuropäer eingeprägt. Mit dem Ergebnis, dass das kommunikative Gedächtnis in Ost und West über zwei Dekaden nach der Revolution von 1989 mit wenig kompatiblen Erinnerungen gefüllt ist und die wechselseitige Wahrnehmung Unverständnis und mangelndes Vorstellungsvermögen nicht zuletzt im Westen offenbar werden lässt.[44]

Während dem Gedächtnis an den Holocaust im Westen eine unverändert hohe öffentliche Aufmerksamkeit zuteilwird, ist das Wissen über den GULag auf Wenige beschränkt und droht zudem der Vergessenheit anheimzufallen. Die US-amerikanische Publizistin Anne Applebaum formuliert dieses Dilemma so: „[W]enn wir den GULag vergessen, [...] beginnen wir zu vergessen, was uns mobilisiert und inspiriert hat, was die Zivilisation ‚des Westens‘ so lange zusammenhielt. [...] Wenn wir uns nicht stärker für die Geschichte der anderen Hälfte des europäischen Kontinents interessieren, die Geschichte des anderen totalitären Regimes des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts, dann werden wir am Ende unsere eigene Vergangenheit nicht verstehen und nicht mehr wissen, warum unsere Welt so geworden ist, wie wir sie heute erleben.“[45]

Die Virulenz und Aktualität der Problematik von geteilten Erinnerungen ist im Umfeld der Feierlichkeiten vom 9. Mai 2005 in Moskau deutlich geworden. Die Erfahrungen mit der sowjetischen Herrschaft im Baltikum und die Hegemonie der Sowjetunion den anderen Ländern Ostmitteleuropas gegenüber wirken mental bis heute noch vielfach nach und sind für das historische kollektive Bewusstsein dieser Länder weiterhin konstitutiv. Dagegen sind vertiefte Kenntnisse z. B. über die Befindlichkeit der Menschen in den baltischen Staaten, über die aus der historischen Erfahrung gespeisten Eigen- und Fremdbilder der Esten, Letten, Litauer und Polen in Westeuropa nur selten anzutreffen. Manche politischen Äußerungen und Handlungsweisen der Gegenwart sind aber nur vor dem jeweiligen historischen Erfahrungshorizont zu erklären.[46]

Welches könnten die Mittel und Wege sein, um die auch (oder gerade) heute konfligierenden Gedächtniswelten zwischen „altem“ und „neuem“ Europa zu entschärfen? Die Beantwortung dieser Frage gebietet Behutsamkeit, handelt es sich doch häufig um westliche Wahrnehmungsdefizite, deren Gründe sowohl in der andersartigen Sozialisation unter dem Signum sozialer Amerikanisierung und folglich anderer Generationserfahrungen zu suchen sind als auch die Folgen der ideologisch propagierten wie auch praktizierten Abgrenzungspolitik der „Ostblockstaaten“. Erschwerend kommt hinzu, dass dieses Defizit kaum mehr zu korrigieren ist, schließlich handelte es sich im östlichen Europa um ein diktatorisches System, das 1989/90 implodierte, somit nicht mehr direkt erfahrbar ist und dennoch in den Biographien, Erinnerungen und Verletzungen von Millionen Menschen weiterlebt.

Ein Rückblick auf das Wirken ostmitteleuropäischer Bürgerrechtler und Dissidenten ist in besonderer Weise geeignet, um als sinnstiftendes Beispiel für die Verwirklichung der Zivilgesellschaft in Europas Freiheitsgeschichte aufgenommen zu werden. Denn sie waren es, die nicht nur die Zersetzung des Staatssozialismus betrieben, sondern auch die Überwindung der Jalta-Ordnung beförderten und ein ungeteiltes Europa gedanklich begründeten. Wolfgang Eichwede bezeichnet sie emphatisch als „Kinder der Aufklärung“, da sie mit ihrem Mut, ihrem Vertrauen auf die Öffentlichkeit und die Kraft ihres Beispiels Keime einer Zivilgesellschaft schufen, die 1989 zum Durchbruch kamen.[47]

*

Schließlich ist es ein Auftrag des 2005 von Deutschland, Polen, Ungarn und der Slowakei auf den Weg gebrachten „Europäischen Netzwerks Erinnerung und Solidarität“, zur Annäherung der Gedächtniswelten beizutragen. Ein Ausgangspunkt für dieses Netzwerk war die sogenannte „Danziger Erklärung“ des damaligen polnischen Staatspräsidenten Aleksander Kwaśniewski und des Bundespräsidenten Johannes Rau vom 29. Oktober 2003. Die „Danziger Erklärung“ war eine Reaktion auf die teils kontrovers geführte Diskussion über die Aufarbeitung der Problematik von Flucht und Vertreibungen im 20. Jahrhundert, die in und zwischen den Gesellschaften der beiden Länder geführt wurde. In der Erklärung regten die beiden Präsidenten an, „alle Fälle von Umsiedlung, Flucht und Vertreibung, die sich im 20. Jahrhundert ereigneten, gemeinsam neu zu bewerten und zu dokumentieren“.[48]

Im Februar 2005 verabschiedeten die für Kultur zuständigen Minister Deutschlands, Polens, Ungarns und der Slowakei eine Absichtserklärung zur Einrichtung eines länderübergreifenden Netzwerks. In der Absichtserklärung werden die oben angesprochenen unterschiedlichen Erinnerungsbedürfnisse der Länder berücksichtigt. Darin heißt es: „Gegenstand des Netzwerks ist die Analyse, Dokumentation und Verbreitung der Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts der Kriege, der totalitären Diktaturen und der Leiden der Zivilbevölkerung – als Opfer von Kriegen, Unterdrückung, Eroberung, Zwangsmigrationen sowie als Opfer von nationalistischen, rassistischen und ideologisch motivierten Repressionen.“[49]

Der umfassend formulierte Anspruch ist nicht zuletzt das Bekenntnis zur dialogischen Erinnerungskultur, das hinreichend viel Raum für wissenschaftliche wie populär angelegte Projekte lässt und zugleich die Möglichkeit einer Erweiterung des Netzwerks um weitere interessierte Länder eröffnet. Die Reihenfolge bei der Nennung der Aufgaben des Netzwerks folgte der plausiblen historischen Gewichtung, wonach Zwangsmigrationen ein Fragment der Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts bilden und ohne eine Einordnung in die menschenverachtende Dynamik des Kriegsgeschehens zusammenhanglos bleiben würden. Zwangsmigrationen sind nicht das Wichtigste und Drastischste, was Ost- und Mitteleuropäer erlebt haben. Das, was die europäische und insbesondere die ostmitteleuropäische Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts auf dramatische wie schmerzhafte Weise geprägt hat, sind die Erfahrungen von zwei Totalitarismen: des Nationalsozialismus und des Kommunismus. Das Gemeinsame, das sich in dieser Aufgabenbeschreibung ausdrückt, ist die ungeteilte Empathie mit allen Opfern der Geschichte.[50]

Im September 2005 wurde die Satzung der Stiftung „Europäisches Netzwerk Erinnerung und Solidarität“ vom Stiftungsrat unter Vorsitz von Andrzej Przewoźnik, dem damaligen Leiter des „Rates zum Schutz des Gedenkens an Kampf und Märtyrertums“, verabschiedet. Als Stiftungsgründer konnte der namhafte Künstler, Theaterwissenschaftler und Auschwitz-Überlebende Józef Szajna gewonnen werden. Zeitgleich konstituierte sich in Warschau der Stiftungsrat, dessen wissenschaftliche Mitglieder von den Kulturministern Deutschlands, Polens, Ungarns und der Slowakei benannt wurden. Die Erklärung über die Gründung des „Europäischen Netzwerks“ vom Februar 2005 rief in der Presse ein breites Echo hervor, stieß bei vielen Initiativen der Bildungs- und Erinnerungsarbeit auf positive Resonanz und äußerte sich in der Bereitschaft zur Kooperation.[51]

Das Netzwerk soll letztlich auch dazu beitragen, die Folgen der jahrzehntelangen Spaltung Europas zu überwinden, indem Erfahrungen von Kriegen, Diktatur und Zwangsmigration mit dem Blick auf das Schicksal des Anderen thematisiert und aufgearbeitet werden. Aufgabe des Netzwerks ist es zudem, die vielfältig vorhandenen Initiativen und Institutionen miteinander zu verbinden und eine dialogische Erinnerungskultur zu befördern und einer Vertiefung der Europäischen Union kulturell den Weg ebnet.

Welches sind die Herangehensweisen und Themen, die das Profil des Netzwerks bestimmen können?

Erstens gibt es in der europäischen Erinnerungslandschaft einen hervorgehobenen Zeitraum, auf den die private wie öffentliche Erinnerung nach wie vor ausgerichtet ist: den Zweiten Weltkrieg. Dieser war ein gravierender Einschnitt, der Zerstörung, Vertreibung, Not und Unterdrückung mit sich brachte, aber auch Befreiung und Neubeginn ermöglichte. In der Konsequenz des Krieges wurden Deutschland und Europa in zwei Hälften auseinandergerissen sowie Schicksale und Lebensläufe in Ost und West dauerhaft unterschiedlich geprägt.

Das seit einigen Jahren in Deutschland artikulierte Interesse am Thema Flucht und Vertreibung soll im historischen Kontext durch das Netzwerk ebenso bearbeitet werden wie Themen zur nationalsozialistischen Gewaltherrschaft in Ostmitteleuropa, für welche die polnische Seite eine besondere Sensibilität besitzt. Das Netzwerk kann hier ansetzen, die Geschichtsbilder wechselseitig zu öffnen, die Perspektive des Anderen mit einzunehmen, zu versuchen, die Befindlichkeiten der Nachbarn mitzudenken und in das jeweils eigene Geschichtsbild zu integrieren, die Geschichten der europäischen Nationen untereinander zu verbinden.

Zweitens stellt die Thematisierung der östlichen Erfahrungswelten samt dem Gedächtnis des Kommunismus und seiner Erinnerungskonkurrenz zum Nationalsozialismus ein zentrales, wenngleich erst in wenigen Publikationen behandeltes Narrativ europäischer Geschichte dar. Richtungweisend sind die Arbeiten von François Furet, Mark Mazower und Tony Judt.[52] Die drei Historiker legten kenntnisreich und treffend dar, wie der lange Schatten des Zweiten Weltkriegs auf dem ganzen Nachkriegseuropa lag, die politischen Geschicke und Integrationsanstrengungen in Ost und West prägte sowie kulturelle Muster – auch grenzübergreifend – kodifizierte.

Zudem könnte ein Vergleich zwischen den Diktaturen nach 1945 wie auch die Kontrastierung mit demokratischen Systemen Aufschluss darüber geben, wie die jeweiligen politischen Eliten ihren Führungs- und Gestaltungsanspruch mit den Modernisierungszwängen der Ökonomie und dem gesellschaftlichen Verlangen nach Wohlstand und Demokratisierung zu vereinbaren suchten.[53] Auf diese Weise ließen sich Integrationsmechanismen und -formen wie auch transnationale kulturelle Einflüsse in und unter den Ländern Ost- wie Westeuropas charakterisieren. Eine derartige Analyse, die bisher nur rudimentär vorgenommen wurde,[54] könnte nicht nur die Gründe für den Verfall und das friedliche Ende des „Ostblocks“ genauer beleuchten, sondern auch seine jahrzehntelange Dauer und relative Stabilität.[55]

Drittens eröffnet die Auseinandersetzung mit Erinnerung und Gedächtnis in Form von „lieux de mémoire“/Erinnerungsorten einen vielversprechenden Zugang zur europäischen Geschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Die von Pierre Nora in Frankreich ausgegangenen Ansätze zur Erfassung, Kategorisierung und damit auch Kanonisierung von „lieux de mémoire“ haben Nachahmungen und Modifizierungen für andere Staaten gefunden – was für sich bereits einen nennenswerten Tatbestand von Europäisierung darstellt.[56] Projekte über materielle wie immaterielle Erinnerungsorte erlauben, für die Gegenwart eine kulturelle Dimension der Rückbesinnung und Orientierung einzuführen, welche die Veränderungen von Erinnerungsformen über längere Zeiträume bis in die aktuelle Gegenwart hinein zum Thema macht. In den letzten Jahren erfuhr die Beschäftigung mit Erinnerungsorten auch in Deutschland eine beachtliche wissenschaftliche Resonanz.[57] Inzwischen gibt es Anzeichen, dass die wissenschaftliche Auseinandersetzung mit dem Thema Erinnerungsorte auch in Ostmitteleuropa zunimmt.[58]

In vielen europäischen Ländern sind Bestrebungen einer Vergangenheitspolitik und offiziellen Gedenkkultur erkennbar, die nationalen Paradigmen folgen.[59] Dies sollte nicht vorab beargwöhnt werden, sondern bei den Themen und Projekten des Netzwerks insofern Berücksichtigung finden, als damit die unterschiedlichen Narrative wissenschaftlich diskutiert und gewichtet werden können. Dabei kann es nicht darum gehen, den nationalen Rahmen, innerhalb dessen sich die Erinnerung an Krieg und Gewalt konstituiert, europäisch zu nivellieren. Vielmehr wird es Aufgabe sein, die verschiedenen Zuordnungen von Schuld und Verantwortung als gegebene Bruchlinien im europäischen Erinnerungsraum wahrzunehmen. Diese müssen auch im Rahmen des Netzwerks ständig reflektiert werden, um die eigene Vergangenheit aushalten zu können. Reinhart Koselleck sagte eindringlich: „Wir können unsere Erinnerung nicht wahren, ohne diese unüberbrückbaren Bruchlinien mit zu erinnern. Sonst wären wir uns selbst gegenüber unehrlich.“[60]Wenn es dem Netzwerk gelänge, die Brüche in der europäischen Erinnerungslandschaft offenzulegen und zu überbrücken, indem die Befindlichkeiten der Nachbarn mitgedacht und die Perspektiven der Anderen übernommen werden, wäre dies mehr, als die Gründer des „Europäischen Netzwerks Erinnerung und Solidarität“ zu erhoffen wagten.



[1] Heinrich August Winkler: Vom linken zum rechten Nationalismus: Der deutsche Liberalismus in der Krise von 1878/79. In: Ders.: Liberalismus und Antiliberalismus. Göttingen 1979, S. 36–51.

[2] Hagen Schulze: Staat und Nation in der europäischen Geschichte. München 1999, S. 320.

[3] Ute Frevert: Eurovisionen. Ansichten guter Europäer im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert. Frankfurt/M. 2003 (Europäische Geschichte), S. 148f.

[4] Vgl. Gregor Thum: „Europa“ im Ostblock. Weiße Flecken in der Geschichte der europäischen Integration. In: Zeithistorische Forschungen / Studies in Contemporary History, Online-Ausgabe, 1 (2004), H. 3, S.1. URL: <http://www.zeithistorische-forschungen.de/16126041-Thum-3-2004>; Peter Bender: Das Ende des ideologischen Zeitalters. Die Europäisierung Europas. Berlin 1981; Karl Schlögel: Die Mitte liegt ostwärts. Die Deutschen, der verlorene Osten und Mitteleuropa. Berlin 1986.

[5] Ernst Friedländer: Wie Europa begann. 2. Aufl. Köln 1968, S. 50.

[6] Teilnehmer aus Westeuropa waren unter anderen Pablo Picasso, Hans Scharoun, Max Frisch, Max Pechstein, Paul Éluard, Fernand Léger, Irene Joliot-Curie, Hans Mayer.

[7] Gregor Thum: „Europa“ im Ostblock (Anm. 4), S. 3; Hans Mayer: Ein Deutscher auf Widerruf. Erinnerungen. Bd. 1. Frankfurt/M. 1988, S. 397–411.

[8] Jan Čulik: Tschechisches literarisches Leben im Exil 1971–1989. In: Ludwig Richter / Heinrich Olschowsky (Hg.): Im Dissens zur Macht. Samizdat und Exilliteratur in den Ländern Ostmittel- und Südosteuropas. Berlin 1995 (Forschungen zur Geschichte und Kultur des östlichen Mitteleuropa), S. 69–84, hier S. 70.

[9] Juliane Brandt: Ungarische Exilliteratur – Ungarische Literatur im Westen. In: Richter / Olschowsky (Hg.): Im Dissens zur Macht (Anm. 8), S. 169–190, hier S. 173, 175.

[10] Andrzej Stanisław Kowalczyk: Giedroyc i „Kultura“ [Giedroyc und die Kultura]. Wrocław 1999; Krzysztof Kopczyński: Przed przystankien Niepodległość. Paryska „Kultura“ i kraj w latach 1980–1989 [Vor der Haltstelle Unabhängigkeit. Die Pariser Kultura und Polen in den Jahren 1980–1989]. Warszawa 1990.

[11] Milan Kundera: Un Occident kidnappé – oder Die Tragödie Zentraleuropas. In: Kommune 7 (1984), S. 43–52, hier S. 44.

[12] György Konrád: Antipolitik. Frankfurt/M. 1985, S. 76ff., 145ff.

[13] Zu den tschechoslowakischen, ungarischen und polnischen Stimmen siehe Hans-Peter Burmeister, Frank Boldt, György Mészáros (Hg.): Mitteleuropa. Traum oder Trauma? Bremen 1988; Krystyna Rogaczewska: Niemcy w myśli politycznej polskiej opozycji w latach 1976–1989 [Deutschland im politischen Denken der polnischen Opposition in den Jahren 1976–1989]. Wrocław 1998, S. 125, 141.

[14] Vgl. Hermann Rudolph: Ein Stellvertreterkrieg am falschen Platz. Zur Mitteleuropa-Diskussion in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. In: Hans Ester / Hans Hecker / Erika Poettgens (Hg.): Deutschland, aber wo liegt es? Deutschland und Mitteleuropa. Amsterdam u. a. 1993 (Amsterdam Studies of Cultural Identity 3), S. 323–334; Peter Bender: Die Notgemeinschaft der Teilungsopfer. In: Ebd., S. 335–350.

[15] Czesław Miłosz: Verführtes Denken. Frankfurt/M. 1980, S. 8.

[16] Heinrich Olschowsky: Emigrantenschicksal und literarische Strategie. Überlegungen zu Czesław Miłosz. In: Richter / Olschowsky (Hg.): Im Dissens zur Macht (Anm. 8), S. 55–68, hier S. 56ff.; Janusz Reiter: Geteilte Erinnerung im Vereinten Europa. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 7.5.2005.

[17] Reinhart Koselleck: Gebrochene Erinnerung? Deutsche und polnische Vergangenheiten. In: Deutsche Akademie für Sprache und Dichtung, Jahrbuch 2000, S. 19–32, hier S. 20f.

[18] Hans Günter Hockerts: Zugänge zur Zeitgeschichte: Primärerfahrung, Erinnerungskultur, Geschichtswissenschaft. In: Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte, B 28/2001, S. 15–30. Die Goldhagen-Debatte verdeutlicht, wie sehr Wissenschaft und Mediengesellschaft konfligieren können. Je besser die Historiker mit der Materie vertraut waren, umso schärfer fiel in der Regel die Kritik aus. Aber das tat dem überwältigenden Medienerfolg des amerikanischen Politologen keinen Abbruch. Umgekehrt fehlte dem thematisch ganz ähnlich gelagerten, indes wissenschaftlich vorzüglichen Buch von Christopher Browning die Brisanz für eine Mediendebatte – das heißt: keine PR-Kampagne, keine Nachrichtenfaktoren, keine plakativ versimpelte These. Ruth Bettina Birn / Volker Riess: Das Goldhagen-Phänomen oder: fünfzig Jahre danach. In: Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht 49 (1998), S. 80–95; Christopher Browning: Ganz normale Männer. Das Reserve-Polizeibataillon 101 und die „Endlösung“ in Polen. Reinbek 1993.

[19] Hans Günter Hockerts: Zugänge zur Zeitgeschichte: Primärerfahrung, Erinnerungskultur, Geschichtswissenschaft. In: Konrad H. Jarausch / Martin Sabrow (Hg.): Verletztes Gedächtnis. Erinnerungskultur und Zeitgeschichte im Konflikt. Frankfurt/M. u. a. 2002, S. 39–71, hier S. 41.

[20] Vgl. Michael Mann: The Dark Side of Democracy. Explaining Ethnic Cleansing. Cambridge 2005, S. 34ff.; vgl. Philipp Ther: A Century of Forced Migration: The Origins and Consequences of „Ethnic Cleansing“. In: Ders. / Ana Siljak (Hg.): Redrawing Nations. Ethnic Cleansing in East-Central Europe 1944–1948. Lanham 2001 (Harvard Cold War Studies Book Series 1), S. 43–74; Norman Naimark: Flammender Haß. Ethnische Säuberung im 20. Jahrhundert. München 2004, S. 9ff., 231ff.

[21] Vgl. Michael G. Esch: „Gesunde Verhältnisse“. Deutsche und polnische Bevölkerungspolitik in Ostmitteleuropa 1939–1950. Marburg 1998 (Materialien und Studien zur Ostmitteleuropa-Forschung 2), S. 128ff., 176ff.

[22] Jörg Baberowski: Ordnung durch Terror. Stalinismus im sowjetischen Vielvölkerreich. In: Isabel Heinemann / Patrick Wagner (Hg.): Wissenschaft – Planung – Vertreibung. Neuordnungskonzepte und Umsiedlungspolitik im 20. Jahrhundert. Stuttgart 2006, S. 145–172, hier S. 146; vgl. Eric D. Weitz: A Century of Genocide. Utopias of Race and Nation. Princeton 2003, S. 8–15.

[23] Vejas Gabriel Liulevicius: Kriegsland im Osten, Eroberung, Kolonisierung und Militärherrschaft im Ersten Weltkrieg. Hamburg 2002, S. 275ff.

[24] Baberowski: Ordnung durch Terror (Anm. 22), S. 147.

[25] Karl Schlögel: Wie europäische Erinnerung an Umsiedlung und Vertreibung aussehen könnte. In: Anja Kruke (Hg.): Zwangsmigration und Vertreibung – Europa im 20. Jahrhundert. Bonn 2006, S. 49–68, hier S. 55.

[26] Holm Sundhaussen: Bevölkerungsverschiebungen in Südosteuropa seit der Nationalstaatswerdung (19./20. Jahrhundert). In: Comparativ 6 (1996), S. 25–40, hier S. 38.

[27] Philipp Ther: Ein Jahrhundert der Vertreibung. Die Ursachen von ethnischen Säuberungen im 20. Jahrhundert. In: Ralph Melville / Claus Scharf (Hg.): Zwangsmigrationen in Europa 1938–1950. Mainz 2007 (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz, Abteilung Universalgeschichte, Beiheft 69), S. 19–38, hier S. 24ff.

[28] Tomasz Falęcki: Niemieckie szkolnictwo mniejszościowe na Górnym Śląsku w latach 1922–1939 [Das Schulwesen der deutschen Minderheit in Oberschlesien in den Jahren 1922–1939]. Katowice 1970, S. 67f.

[29] Wacław Długoborski: Das Problem des Vergleichs von Nationalsozialismus und Stalinismus. In: Dittmar Dahlmann / Gerhard Hirschfeld (Hg.): Lager, Zwangsarbeit, Vertreibung und Deportation. Dimensionen der Massenverbrechen in der Sowjetunion und in Deutschland 1933 bis 1945. Essen 1999 (Schriften der Bibliothek für Zeitgeschichte 10), S. 19–28.

[30] PVAP: Polnische Vereinigte Arbeiterpartei.

[31] Gesine Schwan: Die Last zweier Vergangenheiten. In: Thomas Brose (Hg.): Deutsches Neuland. Beiträge aus Religion und Gesellschaft. Leipzig 1996, S. 24–33, hier S. 31.

[32] Siehe den aussagekräftigen Querschnitt an vergleichenden Arbeiten über das „Dritte Reich“ und die DDR. Günter Heydemann / Detlef Schmiechen-Ackermann: Zur Theorie und Methodologie vergleichender Diktaturforschung. In: Günter Heydemann / Heinrich Oberreuter (Hg.): Diktaturen in Deutschland – Vergleichsaspekte. Bonn 2003 (Schriftenreihe der Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung 398), S. 9–55, hier S. 14.

[33] „Pomówmy o dylematach“. Z Tadeuszem Mazowieckim rozmawia ks. Adam Boniecki [„Lasst uns über die Dilemmata sprechen“. Adam Boniecki im Gespräch mit Tadeusz Mazowiecki]. In: Tygodnik Powszechny, 22.4.2007, S. 12; Piotr Grzelak: Wojna o lustrację [Der Krieg um die Lustration]. Warszawa 2005, S. 17–25.

[34] Bronisław Wildstein: Der Antikommunismus nach dem Kommunismus. In: Paweł Śpiewak (Hg.): Anti-Totalitarismus. Eine polnische Debatte. Frankfurt/M. 2003 (Denken und Wissen. Eine Polnische Bibliothek), S. 527–542.

[35] Rudolf Jaworski: Kollektives Erinnern und nationale Identität. Deutsche und polnische Gedächtniskulturen seit Ende des Zweiten Weltkrieges. In: Ewa Kobylińska / Andreas Lawaty (Hg.): Erinnern, Vergessen, Verdrängen. Polnische und deutsche Erfahrungen. Wiesbaden 1998 (Veröffentlichungen des Deutschen Polen-Instituts Darmstadt 11), S. 33–52, hier S. 48.

[36] Vgl. Tomasz Szarota: Mord in Jedwabne – Dokumente, Publikationen und Interpretationen aus den Jahren 1941–2000. Ein Kalendarium. In: Edmund Dmitrów / Paweł Machcewicz / Tomasz Szarota (Hg.): Der Beginn der Vernichtung. Zum Mord an den Juden in Jedwabne und Umgebung im Sommer 1941. Osnabrück 2004 (Veröffentlichungen der Deutsch-Polnischen Gesellschaft Bundesverband e. V. 4), S. 209–252; Jan Błoński: The poor Poles look at the Ghetto. In: Antony Polonsky (Hg.): „My brother`s keeper?“ Recent Polish debates on the Holocaust. London 1990, S. 34–52; Halina Bortnowska: Wenn der Nachbar keinen Namen hat. In: Transodra 23 (2001), S. 122–124.

[37] Rede Sandra Kalnietes zur Eröffnung der Leipziger Buchmesse, 24.3.2004. In: <http://www.die-union.de/reden/altes_neues_europa.htm>.

[38] Salomon Korn: Vorsicht vor Antisemitismus aus Osteuropa. In: Leipziger Volkszeitung, 26.3.2004.

[39] Ijoma Mangold: Salomon Korns Protest. Der Historikerstreit lässt grüßen. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, 25.3.2004; Matthias Arning: Rückkehr des Totalitären. In: Frankfurter Rundschau, 15.4.2004.

[40] Sandra Kalniete: Mit Ballschuhen im sibirischen Schnee. Die Geschichte meiner Familie. München 2005.

[41] Positive Rezensionen unter anderem von Hubertus Knabe: Ballschuhe im Schnee. In: Der Tagesspiegel, 1.8.2005; Christian Esch: Nachgeholte Tränen. In: Süddeutsche Zeitung, 21.3.2005; Anita Klüger: Ratten in Brennnesselsud. In: tazMagazin, 21.5.2005; negative Rezension von Michael Wolffsohn: Keine Gesellen nirgends. In: Die Welt, 16.4.2005.

[42] Mit den deutschen Truppen kollaborierten vor allem die von Viktor Arajs geführte paramilitärische Gruppe, die ca. 200 Mann umfasste und ab Sommer 1941 sich aktiv an der Ermordung der lettischen Juden beteiligte. In der lettischen Bevölkerung hatten die Mitglieder des Arajs-Kommandos allgemein einen äußerst schlechten Ruf. Kathrin Reichelt: Zwei Beispiele der Judenverfolgung in Lettland 1941–1944. In: Joachim Tauber (Hg.): „Kollaboration“ in Nordosteuropa. Erscheinungsformen und Deutungen im 20. Jahrhundert (Veröffentlichungen des Nordost-Instituts 1). Wiesbaden 2006, S. 77–87, hier S. 80f.

[43] Basil Kerski: Ungleiche Opfer. In: Kafka. Zeitschrift für Mitteleuropa, H. 14 (2004). S. 34–43; Jasper von Altenbockum: Der lange Schatten. Lettland und die „Gleichsetzung“ von Stalinismus und Nationalsozialismus. In: Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 3.4.2004.

[44] Vgl. Andrzej Paczkowski: Gedächtniswelten. Das „alte“ und das „neue“ Europa. In: Bernd Kauffmann / Basil Kerski (Hg.): Antisemitismus und Erinnerungskulturen im postkommunistischen Europa. Osnabrück 2006 (Veröffentlichtungen der Deutsch-Polnischen Gesellschaft Bundesverband e. V. 10), S. 135–145.

[45] Anne Applebaum: Der GULAG. Berlin 2003, S. 609.

[46] Heinrich August Winkler: Erinnerungswelten im Widerstreit. Europas langer Weg zu einem gemeinsamen Bild vom Jahrhundert der Extreme. In: Kauffmann / Kerski (Hg.): Antisemitismus und Erinnerungskulturen (Anm. 43), S. 105–116, hier S. 114; vgl. Roland Freudenstein: Warum die EU gegenüber Russland mit einer Stimme sprechen muss. In: Dialog, H. 77–78 (2007), S. 68–70; Lilija Ševcova: Garantiert ohne Garantie. Rußland unter Putin. In: Osteuropa 3 (2006), S. 3–18, hier S. 13ff.

[47] Wolfgang Eichwede: Kinder der Aufklärung. In: Kafka. Zeitschrift für Ostmitteleuropa 3 (2001), S. 8–13; vgl. Jerzy Giedroycs Kultura und die Krise der europäischen Identität. In: Łukasz Galecki / Basil Kerski (Hg.): Die polnische Emigration und Europa 1945–1990. Eine Bilanz des politischen Denkens und der Literatur Polens im Exil. Osnabrück 2000, S. 73–94, hier S. 91ff.

[48] <www.bundeskanzlerin.de/bk/Redaktion/Binaer/2005/12/2005-12-02-danziger-erklaerung-pdf,property=blob.pdf->.

[49] <www.markusmeckel.de/index.php?option=com_docman&task=doc_download&gid=231->.

[50] Paweł Machcewicz: Ein Netzwerk aus polnischer Sicht. In: Kruke (Hg.): Zwangsmigrationen und Vertreibung (Anm. 25), S. 147–150, hier S.148f.

[51]>; <http://www.polskiejutro.com/art/a.php?p=144-145okiem>.

[52] François Furet: Das Ende der Illusion. Der Kommunismus im 20. Jahrhundert. München 1996; Mark Mazower: Der dunkle Kontinent: Europa im 20. Jahrhundert. Berlin 2000; Tony Judt: Geschichte Europas von 1945 bis zur Gegenwart. München 2006.

[53] Helmut Fehr: Unabhängige Öffentlichkeit und soziale Bewegungen. Fallstudien über Bürgerbewegungen in Polen und der DDR. Opladen 1996; Detlef Pollack / Jan Wielgohs (Hg.): Dissent and Opposition in Communist Eastern Europe. Origins of Civil Society and Democratic Transition. Aldershot 2004; Manfred Agethen / Günter Buchstab (Hg.): Oppositions- und Freiheitsbewegungen im früheren Ostblock. Freiburg 2003.

[54] Zur wirtschaftlichen Integration: Ralf Ahrens: Gegenseitige Wirtschaftshilfe? Die DDR im RGW. Strukturen und handelspolitische Strategien 1963–1976. Köln u. a. 2000 (Schriftenreihe des Hannah-Arendt-Instituts für Totalitarismusforschung 15); sozialgeschichtliche Überblicksdarstellung: Mark Pittaway: Eastern Europe 1939–2000. London 2004; alltagsgeschichtlich: David Crowley, Susan E. Reid (Hg.): Socialist Spaces. Sites of Everyday Life in the Eastern Bloc. Berg 2002; eine sehr aussagekräftige Fallstudie über die weitreichende Hochschul- und Kaderpolitik: John Connelly: Captive University. The Sovietization of East German, Czech and Polish Higher Education, 1945–1956. Chapel Hill u. a. 2000.

[55] Wolfgang Schmale: Wie europäisch ist Ostmitteleuropa? In: Themenportal Europäische Geschichte (2006), <URL: http://www.europa.clio-online.de/2006/Article=164>, S. 7; Helena Flam: Mosaic of Fear. Poland and East Germany before 1989. New York 1998; vgl. Andreas Rödder: Wertewandel und Postmoderne. Gesellschaft und Kultur in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1965–1990. Stuttgart 2004 (Stiftung Bundespräsident-Theodor-Heuss-Haus, Kleine Reihe 12); Włodzimierz Borodziej: Der Standort des Historikers und die Herausforderung der europäischen Geschichte. In: Gerald Stourzh (Hg.): Annäherungen an eine europäische Geschichtsschreibung. Wien 2002 (Archiv für österreichische Geschichte 137), S. 105–118, hier S. 116.

[56] Pierre Nora (Hg.): Les lieux de mémoire. 7 Bde. Paris 1984–1992; Mario Isnenghi (Hg.): I luoghi della memoria. 3 Bde. Rom u. a. 1987–1997; Moritz Csáky (Hg.): Orte des Gedächtnisses. Wien 2000; Pim den Boer / Willem Frijhoff (Hg.): Lieux de mémoire et identités nationales. Amsterdam 1993.

[57] Etienne François: Eine Geschichte der deutschen Erinnerungsorte: Warum? Wie? In: Alexandre Escudier (Hg.): Gedenken im Zwiespalt. Konfliktlinien europäischen Erinnerns. Göttingen 2001 (Genshagener Gespräche 4), S. 77–89; vgl. Etienne François / Hagen Schulze (Hg.): Deutsche Erinnerungsorte. Bde. 1–3. München 2001; Elke Stein-Hölkeskamp / Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp (Hg.): Erinnerungsorte der Antike. Die römische Welt. München 2006.

[58] Marcin Kula: Nośniki pamięci historycznej [Die Träger der historischen Erinnerung]. Warszawa 2002; Marek Czapliński / Hans-Joachim Hahn / Tobias Weger (Hg.): Schlesische Erinnerungsorte: Gedächtnis und Identität einer mitteleuropäischen Region. Görlitz 2005; Robert Traba: „Wschodniopruskość“. Tożsamość narodowa i regionalna w kulturze politycznej Niemiec [„Ostpreußentum“. Nationale und regionale Identität in der politischen Kultur Deutschlands]. Poznań 2005 (Poznańskie Towarzystwo Pryjaciół Nauk, Wydział Historii i Nauk Społecznych, Prace Komisji Historycznej 64).

[59] Helmut König: Die Zukunft der Vergangenheit. Der Nationalsozialismus im politischen Bewußtsein der Bundesrepublik. Frankfurt/M. 2003; Peter Oliver Loew: Zwillinge zwischen Endecja und Sanacja. Die neue polnische Rechtsregierung und ihre historischen Wurzeln. In: Osteuropa 11 (2005), S. 9–20; vgl. „Krise zwischen Ungarn und Slowaken eskaliert. Neue Ausfälle belasten die bilateralen Beziehungen“. In: Die Welt, 8.6.2006.

[60] Reinhart Koselleck: Gebrochene Erinnerung? Deutsche und polnische Vergangenheiten. In: Deutsche Akademie für Sprache und Dichtung, Jahrbuch 2000. Göttingen 2000, S. 19–32, hier S. 29.


Dr. Burkhard Olschowsky (geb. 1969 in Berlin) studierte Geschichte und die Geschichte Osteuropas in Göttingen, Warschau und Berlin. 2002 erwarb er an der Humboldt-Universität in Berlin seinen Doktortitel. 2003-2005 arbeitete er als Vertragsdozent im Bereich zeitgenössischer Geschichte und Politik an der Humboldt-Universität in Berlin. In den Jahren 2004-2005 war er im Bundesministerium für Verkehr, Bau und Stadtentwicklung tätig. Seit Mai 2005 wissenschaftlicher Mitarbeiter in Bundesinstitut für Kultur und Geschichte der Deutschen im östlichen Europa. Seit 2010 ist er wissenschaftlicher Mitarbeiter im ENES-Sekretariat.


 

Photo of the publication Velky Hlad na Ukrajine v Rokoch 1932-1933
Stanisław Kulczycki

Vel'ky Hlad na Ukrajine v Rokoch 1932-1933

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Ukraine
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Famine
  • Ukraine in 20th century

V prvej polovici roku 1933 na Ukrajine sa rozbesnil veľký hlad. Milióny ľudí hynulo. Z povrchu Zeme zmizli stovky dedín, tisíce chútorov. Ľudí zomretých v dôsledku hladu pochovávali na cintorínoch, opustených miestach, samotách, veľmi často – na záhradkách pri domoch, vhadzovali ich do studní, ktoré boli neskôr zasypávané. V úvozoch robili dlhé výkopy a do nich boli hádzané mŕtvoly.

O tom hlade nebolo možné písať ani hovoriť. A samozrejme ani stavať pomníky na mohylách osôb, ktoré zomreli z hladu. Prvé symbolické náhrobky boli vznesené v roku 1983 na protiľahlom konci zemegule – v Edmontone a Winnipegu. V máji roku 1986 . bol odhalený pomník obetí Veľkého hladu v centrum Los Angeles a v roku 1993 – v Chicago. Kongres USA poskytol vo Washingtone pozemok pod pomník ku cti Ukrajincov, ktorí zomreli z hladu. Pomník bol odhalený na jeseň roku 2008 kedy bolo 75. výročie tej tragédie ukrajinského národa.

Na Ukrajine sa začali stavať pomníky v miestach pochovania obetí hladu na jeseň roku 1989. Ako jeden z prvých bol odhalený memoriál pripomínajúci obete stalinského teroru v obci Pańkowcy v Staro-Siniavskom rajóne v Chmielnickom obvode. Počas mnohých rokov práce spojené s lokalizáciou obetí hladu a stavbou pomníkov alebo pamätných znakov vykonávali občianske organizácie, predovšetkým Združenie skúmajúcich Hlad – Genocídu (Stowarzyszenie Badaczy Głodu-Ludobójstwa) v rokoch 1932-1933 na Ukrajine (založené v júli 1992). V poslednom období tieto práce kontroloval Sekretariát prezidenta Ukrajiny. Pred 75. výročím Veľkého hladu mali byť zlokalizované všetky miesta, kde boli obete pochované. Vo všetkých obvodoch boli zahájené práce, ktoré mali určiť totožnosť zomrelých.

Čo sa stalo na Ukrajine v rokoch 1932-1933? Prečo nebolo možné o tom hovoriť až do decembra 1987? Vtedy prvý tajomník ÚV Komunistickej strany Ukrajiny Wołodymyr Szczerbyćkyj bol nútený so zaťatými zubami potvrdiť, že hlad bol spôsobený akoby živlom prírody – suchom.

Historici nemajú problém s dokázaním zámeru, že štátne orgány realizovali teror pomocou hladu ani so zaznamenaním výsledkov realizácie toho zámeru. Omnoho ťažšie je dokázať prečo sa Stalin pre tento zámer rozhodol.

Nemôžu to dosvedčiť dokumenty, pretože vodca nebol povinný vysvetľovať podriadeným motívy, ktorými sa riadil. Avšak, ak chýbajú priame dokumenty, vtedy historici musia nájsť nepriame svedectvá, ktoré spoločne poukážu na motívy.

V roku 1988 komisia Kongresu USA, ktorej výkonným riaditeľom bol John Meys, uznala hlad na Ukrajine v rokoch 1932-1933 za genocídu. V dôsledku toho, na základe žiadosti organizácie ukrajinskej diaspóry, bola utvorená medzinárodná komisia skladajúca sa z právnikov svetového významu pod vedením Georga Sandberga. Skúmala dôkazy, ktoré dostala a väčšinou hlasov potvrdila ten názor. Obe komisie využili predovšetkým výpovede emigrantov.

Dnes sa tiež nemôžeme obísť bez výpovedí očitých svedkov. Hlavná akcia teroru pomocou hladu, behom ktorej boli konfiškované potraviny v rámci nepretržitých revízií jednotlivých hospodárstiev sa uskutočnila v januári roku 1933. na základe ústnych pokynov na všetkých úrovniach moci – od Kremľa po konkrétnu dedinu. Všetky iné technologické elementy tejto formy represie sú už potvrdené dokumentmi. Výsledky stalinskej akcie popísané v bezpočte dokumentov sú taktiež dobre známe.

Technológia teroru potvrdená v dokumentoch spočívala v:

- náhodným zavádzania režimu „čiernej dosky” v počiatočnom štádiu teroru (november - december 1932 .);

- stálych revíziách sedliackych hospodárstiev za účelom nájdenia ukrývaného obilia, niekedy s ukladaním pokút platených deputátom – mäsom a zemiakmi (november - december 1932);

- konfiškáte v priebehu revízie jednotlivých hospodárstiev všetkých potravín (január 1933.);

- propagačnej akcii nasmerovanej na vyvolanie nenávisti hladujúcich obyvateľov v mestách voči „kulakom - sabotérom”;

- blokáde USSR a Kubáńskej oblasti severného Kaukazu;

- zákaze používania termínu „hlad” dokonca aj v dokumentoch s označením „prísne tajné”.

Teror pomocou hladu trval v situácii spoločenskej a hospodárskej krízy, a kríza bola výsledkom hospodárskej politiky. Stalin popisujúc svoju politiku v období od roku 1929 do januára roku 1933 sám našiel pre to výrazný termín – „rus. ponukanie” čo znamená popoháňanie[1]. V priemysle táto politika spočívala v ustanovovaní nevykonateľného tempa rastu so súčasným prenasledovaním tých, ktorí zostali pozadu. Na vidieku sa „ponukanie” realizovalo vo forme konfiškáty zobranej úrody. Povinné dodávky obilia boli pozastavené až na do jari každého ďalšieho roka a vtedy štát začal pomáhať sedliakom v podobe široko reklamovaných pôžičiek na osivo a potraviny. „Generálnu líniu socialistickej industrializácie” sprevádzal nárast prípadov smrti v dôsledku hladu sedliakov, ktorým bolo odobrané obilie, a taktiež medzi obyvateľmi miest, ktorým boli zmenšované normy prídelu chleba alebo boli úplne pozbavení centrálneho zásobovania.

Na Západe vznikol vplyvný prúd tzv. „revizionistov”, čiže vedcov, ktorí chcú očistiť históriu ZSSR od hodnotenia obdobia „studenej vojny” , ktoré bolo plné predsudkov. Zvlášť nesúhlasia s tým, že hlad z rokov 1932-1933 na Ukrajine bol genocídou. Tento názor sa zakorenil v historiografii vďaka prácam R. Conquest’a a G. Meysa. A s nimi ruskí vedci jedným hlasom tvrdili, že obilie bolo určené pre „svätú vec” – industrializáciu. Podľa nich, bez politiky „ponukania” by Sovietsky zväz nemohol vydržať nápor nacistického Nemecka.

Nechajme budúcim pokoleniam odpoveď na otázku, či je možné za genocídu považovať smrť stoviek tisíc ľudí v rôznych regiónoch ZSSR, včítane Ukrajiny, v dôsledku povinných dodávok obilia a predaja ho v zahraničí. Tu pojednávame o niečom úplne inom, o záhube miliónov ľudí, ktorú zorganizoval Kremeľ pod zámienkou povinných dodávok, a nie v ich dôsledku. Do posledných mesiacov roku 1932 ľudia na Ukrajine, tak isto ako aj v iných regiónoch, umierali preto, že boli zbavení obilia. Počínajúc novembrom roku 1932 začali umierať preto, že boli zbavení všetkých iných potravín.

Naši oponenti obyčajne uvádzajú tri argumenty, ktoré spochybňujú, ako sa im zdá, tézu o Veľkom hlade ako genocíde. Po prvé, na ukrajinskom vidieku zomierali z hladu ľudia rôznej národnosti. Po druhé, nikto neprenasledoval Ukrajincov vzhľadom na ich národnosť. Po tretie, či je možné nazvať genocídou hlad v prípade, keď sovietska moc zorganizovala v širokom merítku pomoc v roku 1933 práve obyvateľom USSR a Kubáne?

Argument o záhube ľudí rôznej národnosti na ukrajinskom vidieku neznie presvedčivo. Pretože neodpovedá na otázku, prečo počet obetí hladu v USSR a na Kubáni v roku 1933 bol o rad veľkosti vyšší ako v iných regiónoch európskej časti ZSSR. Odpoveď je jednoduchá: teror bol nasmerovaný proti vidieckym oblastiam Ukrajiny, v ktorých žili nie len Ukrajinci. To, že zomreli ľudia rôznych národností je úplne pochopiteľné. Teror pomocou hladu nebolo možné personalizovať – bol to úder naprieč celými oblasťami.

Je treba pojednať o ostatných argumentoch. Sústreďme sa najprv na tézu, že nikto neprenasledoval Ukrajincov vzhľadom na ich národnosť. V komisii Kongresu USA, ktorá skúmala hlad z rokov 1932-1933 na Ukrajine, bola svedkom kladená tá istá otázka: prečo vás Stalin vykynožoval? Pretože, sme Ukrajinci – odpovedali. Akú inú odpoveď mohli dať sedliaci? Pretože také presvedčenie sa upevnilo v ukrajinskej diaspóre, a po roku 1991 sa rozšírilo po celej Ukrajine.

Koho v skutočnosti kynožil Stalin? Americký vedec G. Meys skúmajúci ukrajinský národný komunizmus ako prvý z vedcov prehlásil, že stalinský teror na Ukrajine bol smerovaný nie proti ľuďom určitej národnosti či profesionálnej skupine, ale proti občanom Ukrajinského štátu, ktorý vznikol v období rozpadu ruského Impéria a prežil svoju osobnú záhubu, keď sa prerodil do podoby sovietskeho štátu. Formula o vykynožení Ukrajincov ako národa, nie etnickej skupiny hladom (to destroy them as political factor and as a social organism) bola obsiahnutá v referáte Meysa na prvej vedeckej konferencii venovanej hladu z v rokoch 1932-1933 na Ukrajine, zorganizovanej v Montreale v roku 1983.[2]

Naši oponenti tvrdia, že sa nedá zjednotiť v jednom celku zorganizovanie hladu –genocídy s poskytnutím hladujúcim potravinovej pomoci v tak širokom rozsahu. Je nesporné, že taká pomoc bola poskytnutá. Robert Davies a Stefen Wheatcroft publikovali v roku 2004 monografiu, v ktorej uvádzajú 35 stranícko-vládnych uznesení vo veci poskytnutia potravinovej pomoci hladujúcim regiónom ZSSR. Prvé z nich má dátum 7. februára, a posledné 20. júla 1933. Celkový rozsah pomoci bol 320 tis. ton obilia, z čoho do USSR a na Kubáň bolo poslaných 264,7 tis., a do všetkých ostatných regiónov spolu – 55,3 tis. ton[3].

Čísla presvedčili R. Conquest’a o tom, že téza o hlade - genocíde je chybná. Davies a Wheatcroft v poznámke na obálke ich knihy zdôrazňujú, že ich vývody „sa líšia od tých, ktoré pred nimi spravili mnohí iní historici, včítane R. Conquest’a”. Samotný Conquest sa zoznámil s knihou ešte v rukopise a vedľa anotácie autorov na obálke figuruje jeho verdikt: „Je to vynikajúci vklad do skúmania tak dôležitého problému”. Autori zacitovali v knihe fragment z jeho listu napísaného po zoznámení sa s rukopisom v septembri 2003 V tom liste Conquest prehlásil, že Stalin nezorganizoval hlad v roku 1933 špeciálne, hoci nespravil nič, aby tragédii zabránil[4].

Pomoc hladujúcim bola predstavovaná ako starosť strany o ľudí, ktorí sa ocitli v ťažkej situácii, ktorú si sami to zapríčinili. Technológiu teroru pomocou hladu sme už poznali. Zostáva už len dodať jednu charakteristiku – pomoc štátu hladujúcim sedliakom. Vtedy a len vtedy môže byť tá forma represie vedomou činnosťou Kremľa!

Naozaj, môžeme si predstaviť, že sovietska moc stále poľovala na nejakého človeka len preto, že to bol Ukrajinec? Nakoniec, rovnako nie je možné si predstaviť, aby tá štátna moc mohla zničiť človeka preto, že bol sedliakom. Ostáva spraviť jediný možný záver: Veľký hlad sa odohral v dôsledku súhry konkrétnych okolností.

V dobe prvého komunistickej vlny v rokoch 1918-1920 sa boľševikom podarilo vybudovať základy príkazového hospodárstva. V roku 1929 Stalin zahájil nový vlnu v podobe útoku. Mal v úmysle zrealizovať to, čo sa nepodarilo Leninovi: nahnať do komún desiatky miliónov drobných výrobcov tovaru. Následkom toho začala na počiatku roku 1930 dozrievať kolosálna spoločenská vzbura. Stalin bol prinútený rezignovať na komúny a obmedziť sa na tzv. „artele“, čiže dovolil sedliakom mať záhradky pri domoch. Súdiac, že kolchozníci sa nechajú uspokojiť produktmi svojich hospodárstiev pri domoch, začal konfiškovať vidieku prakticky celú úrodu obila. Sedliaci nesmeli dostať obilie do okamihu splnenia plánu povinných dodávok , ktoré v praxi nemali žiadne právom vymedzené hranice. Obilie, nájdené po skončení skupu bolo považované za ukryté pred evidovaním alebo ukradnuté.

Sedliaci nechceli pracovať v kolchozoch bez odmeny, zadarmo, a preto ich komunistický štát začal obviňovať zo sabotáže, čo bolo následne zámienkou pre prenasledovanie. Kríza kolchozného zriadenia hrozila kolapsom celého hospodárstva. V januári 1933 bola vláda nútená prejsť od neobmedzených povinných dodávok na paušálny štátny výkup obilia podľa daňových zásad. Znamenalo to, že štát konečne uznal právo vlastníctva kolchozov a kolchozníkov na vyprodukované pôdohospodárske produkty. Nové právo menilo vzťahy medzi mestom a vidiekom tak radikálne, ako zákon o produkčnej dani v marci roku. 1921 Kolchozy nadobudli vtedy podobu, akú si zapamätali v súčasnosti žijúce pokolenia.

Naši kolegovia na Západe chápu príčiny spoločenského a hospodárskeho hladu z rokov 1932-1933 v ZSSR, hoci zďaleka nie všetci, ako sme vyššie uviedli, pochopili stalinskú politiku „ponukania”. Avšak väčšina z nich nedoceňuje druhú stranu problému – národnú. Pre nich hladujúci ukrajinský sedliak je proste sedliak, nie občan Ukrajinskej republiky Sovietskeho zväzu. Sovietsky zväz chápu ako zväz bezprávnych republík utvorený tzv. národom „titulárnym”. Ale takým sa ZSSR stal až po hlade v rokoch 1932-1933 a terore v rokoch 1937-1938. Predtým bol Sovietsky zväz zväzom štátov.

Richard Pipes, ktorý je uznávaným znalcom histórie Ruska tvrdí, že národná sovietska štátnosť bola od samotného začiatku fikciou, pretože sa za ňou skrývala diktatúra z ústredia v Moskve[5]. S týmto konštatovaním treba súhlasiť, ale nie je možné sa obmedziť len na to. Zostávajúc v rámci takej predstavy o sovietskej moci nepochopíme ani Veľký hlad na Ukrajine, ani konfrontáciu B. Jelcina a M. Gorbačova v Moskve ako deštrukčnú pre ďalší osud ZSSR.

Keď bol chorý Lenin postavený pred faktom utvorenia spoločného štátu cestou „autonomizácie” národných republík, spravil v konštrukcii ústavy zásadné zmeny. Bol vytvorený zväz štátov, čiže federácia druhého stupňa, do ktorej „spolu a s rovnakými právami” vstúpila ako Ruská federácia tak aj všetky iné nezávislé republiky. V ústavách zväzových republík, rovnako ako aj v celozväzovej ústave bolo zdôrazňované, že každá republika má právo vystúpiť zo Sovietskeho zväzu (samozrejme procedúra vystúpenia nebola uvedená). Takýmto spôsobom sa Leninovi podarilo prejsť dejinám cez rozum a zachovať základnú časť rozpadnutého predrevolučného impérium v novom sovietskom povlaku.

Sovietska štátnosť – nie je to jednoduchý pojem ako v prvotnej, t.j. ruskej dimenzii tak aj druhotnej – národnej. Rady podriadené diktatúre kremľovských vodcov mali reálnu výkonnú moc. Vďaka tej moci sa strana boľševikov menila na štátnu štruktúru.

Dvojitú konštrukciu štátnej moci je nutné uznať ako geniálny vynález Lenina. Ale ani to riešenie nebolo bezpečné pre ústredie, ktoré by bolo treba nazvať Kremeľ, nie Moskva. Moskva – je hlavné mesto Ruska, republiky, ktorá mala najviac práv. Vodcovia boľševikov transformovali celoruský ÚV RKS(b) na orgán celozväzový. A hoci Rusko zostávalo republikou štátotvornou, všezväzové centrum sa nesnažilo s ňou ani stotožňovať   (prekážala v tom ústavná konštrukcia ZSSR), ani tvoriť v Moskve konkurenčné centrum štátnej moci. Zásada „spolu a s rovnakými právami ” pri vstupe formálne nezávislých republík do ZSSR bola odmietnutá v rokoch 1990-1991 v dôsledku konfrontácie M.S. Gorbačova a B.N. Jelcina.

V čom spočívalo nebezpečenstvo dvojitej konštrukcie moci v období prechodu od sovietskej štátnosti na Kremli k národnej štátnosti? Toto nebezpečenstvo malo charakter prvotný aj druhotný. Druhotné nebezpečenstvo sa týkalo činnosti rôznych politických straníkov, ktorí nezdieľali niektoré názory centrum alebo, už v priebehu rozvoja udalostí, mohli potenciálne vystúpiť proti. Preto sa represie dotkli celého politického byra ÚV KS(b)U, desiatok tisíc pracovníkov aparátu a predstaviteľov národnej inteligencie.

Prvotné nebezpečenstvo, ktoré tie represie ospravedlňovalo sa skrývalo v tých istých privilégiách konštrukcie štátnej moci, ktoré si zaistil Kremeľ. V rukách rád, samozrejme vrátane národných rád, sa koncentrovala reálna výkonná moc, ktorá dávala strane charakter štátnej štruktúry. Pokiaľ tú moc kontroloval priamo Kremeľ, Sovietskemu zväzu nehrozil rozpad. Ale ak taká kontrola bola realizovaná mimo Kremeľ regionálnymi štruktúra strany (v prípade krízy centrálnej moci), hrozba rozpadu sa stávala reálna. V Kremli bolo najväčšie ohrozenie stotožňované s Ukrajinou – republikou s trvalými tradíciami národnej (nie sovietskej!) štátnosti. Tá republika susedila s Európou, a z hľadiska svojich ekonomických zdrojov (spolu s ľudským potenciálom) sa vyrovnala všetkým iným národným republikám spolu).

Kremeľ začal po utvorení ZSSR rozvíjať v národných republikách kampaň zakoreňovania sovietskej moci v neruskom prostredí. Na Ukrajine prešla kampaň zakoreňovania rýchlo mimo rámec čisto byrokratického predsavzatia a stala sa náradím národného obrodenia. Po sčítaní ľudu v roku 1926   ukrajinské vedenie tvrdohlavo žiadalo ÚV WKP(b), aby bolo k republike pripojené územie Ruskej federácie, ktoré s ňou susedilo a kde Ukrajinci tvorili väčšinu obyvateľov, včítane Kubáňskej oblasti Ruskej federácie. Tieto snahy boli bezvýsledné. Avšak vedeniu USRR sa podarilo získať súhlas Kremľa s ukrajinizáciou rajónov za hranicami republiky, kde Ukrajinci tvorili väčšinu obyvateľov. Na Kubáni bol zakrátko zavedený ukrajinský jazyk do úradov verejnej správy, škôl, hromadných oznamovacích prostriedkov. V Kremli sledovali tieto úspechy s narastajúcim nepokojom. Celá ukrajinizovaná Kubáň by mala byť pripojená k USSR, čiže nebezpečne by sa zvyšoval veľký ľudský potenciál Ukrajiny v ZSSR.

Po tom všetkom, čo bolo povedané zostáva predstaviť dôkaz na to, prečo bolo možná akcia konfiškáty zásob potravín vo vidieckych oblastiach Ukrajiny, ktorú predsavzal Kremeľ v januári 1933. Dôkaz sa týka augusta 1932.

Historici náležite ocenili návyk Stalina, ktorý odpočíval každé leto niekoľko mesiacov v kúpeľoch severného Kaukazu. Na Kremli zostávali a „hospodárili“ L.M. Kaganovič (línia stranícka) a W.M. Molotov (línia sovietska). Zohľadňujúc najvyšší stupeň tajnosti, Stalin bol nútený ich kontaktovať pomocou vlastnoručne napísaných listov prostredníctvom špeciálnych agentov GPU. Keď Stalin úradoval v Kremli osobne, kontaktovali sa ústne, tzn. nezanechávali stopy v dokumentácii politického byra ÚV WKP(b). Táto okolnosť presne rozhraničuje inštitucionálnu a personálnu mieru zodpovednosti za všetko to, čo sa odohrávalo v zemi. Je jasné, z čoho je možné obviniť vyšší kolektívny orgán štátnej strany čiže čekistov a celé zloženie politického byra ÚV, a za čo je možné obviniť priamo Stalina a jeho najbližších pomocníkov z toho obdobia – L.M. Kaganoviča, V.M. Molotova a P.P. Postyševa.

O.V. Chlevniuk, hlavný redaktor diela „Stalin a Kaganovič. Korešpondencia z rokov 1931-1936” si všimol nasledujúcu vlastnosť: že Stalin dokonca aj v tajnej korešpondencii konštruoval pre seba a svoje okolie obraz udalostí, ktorý bol vzdialený od reálneho, ale dovoľoval zachovať najvyšším orgánom „politickú tvár”[6]. Avšak v liste z 11. augusta 1932 adresovanom Kaganovičovi bol mimoriadne úprimný, pretože mu chcel dať funkciu generálneho tajomníka ÚV KS(b)U. Kaganovič bol v centre kádrovej kombinácie, preto by mal vedieť v čom spočívala jej podstata, a taktiež charakter svojich neodkladných počínaní na Ukrajine.

Podstata listu Stalina zo dňa 11. augusta 1932 je obsiahnutá v dvoch odstavcoch:

Najdôležitejšia je teraz Ukrajina. Na Ukrajine je zle. Zle po straníckej línii. Hovorí sa, že v dvoch obvodoch Ukrajiny (pravdepodobne v Kyjevskom a Dniepro-petrovskom) sa okolo 50 rajónových výborov postavilo proti plánom povinných dodávok obilia považujúc ich za nereálne. V iných rajónových výboroch, ako hovoria, veci nevyzerajú lepšie. Ako je to možné? To je nie strana, ale parlament, karikatúra parlamentu. Kosior, miesto toho, aby viedol rajóny, celý čas lavíroval medzi nariadeniami ÚV WKP a požiadavkami rajónových výborov až dolavíroval do beznádejného postavenia. Zle sa deje na sovietskej línii. Czubar – to nie je vedúci. Zle je na línii GPU. Redens (Stanislav Redens do januára roku 1933 bol predsedajúci GPU USRR – Aut.) nezvláda vedenie boja s kontrarevolúciou v tak veľkej a zvláštnej republike, ako Ukrajina.

Ak nezačneme teraz zlepšovať situáciu na Ukrajine, môžeme Ukrajinu stratiť. Pamätajte že Piłsudski nedrieme, a jeho agentúra je mnohokrát silnejšia ako si myslí Redens či Kosior. Pamätajte tiež že v Ukrajinskej komunistickej strane (50 tisíc členov, cha-cha) je nemálo (áno, nemálo!) zhnitého elementu, uvedomelých aj neuvedomelých petlurovcov, čo sú predsa – priami agenti Piłsudského. Ak sa situácia zhorší, ten element sa nezdrží, aby neotvoril front vo vnútri (a navonok) strany proti strane. Najhoršie je to, že ukrajinské vedenie nevidí tie nebezpečenstvá. Takto to nemôže pokračovať”[7].

Bádajúc situáciu v ZSSR v druhej polovici roku 1932 nájdeme na základe sovietskych novín jedine raporty o tom, že boli odovzdávané do prevádzky nové stavby prvého päťročného plánu. Raporty GPU, na ktoré sa odvoláva Stalin v liste Kaganovičovi ukazujú iný obraz – zachmúrený a zlovestný. Mesto hladovalo, hladoval vidiek. Komunisticko stranícky sovietsky aparát bol zdezorientovaný alebo otvorene frondował. U rádových členov strany narastala nespokojnosť s počínaním štátnej moci.

Tu je treba pripomenúť krízu, ktorá nastala poldruha roka pred uvedenými udalosťami. V súvislosti so sedliackymi vzburami Stalin pozastavil na pol roka kolektivizáciu na počiatku marca roku 1930. Kanadská historička Lynne Viola vybádala, že známy článok „Závrat hlavy z úspechov” sa ukázal pod vplyvom vzbúr na Ukrajine a severnom Kaukaze, ktoré, čo sa týka ich počtu a množstva účastníkov, značne predbiehali všetky ostatné regióny ZSSR spolu[8]. K tomu čo napísala treba dodať len jedno: Stalina vtedy zvlášť trápili vzbury v prihraničných oblastiach USRR. Vedel, že Ukrajina je nie len región ako iné, ale tiež republika s vysokým štátnym štatútom hraničiaca s Európou. Prejavilo sa to tiež v liste Kaganovičovi z 11. augusta 1932. Uvádzajúc predsavzatia, ktoré by mohli viesť k prelomu na Ukrajine končí o tomto probléme: „Bez tých a im podobných predsavzatí (hospodárske a politické posilnenie Ukrajiny, v prvom rade jej prihraničných rajónov apod.) opakujem – môžeme Ukrajinu stratiť”[9].

Takže druhá polovica roku 1932 sa ukázala byť bodom, v ktorom sa stretli a prekryli dve krízy – v spoločensko - ekonomickej a národnej politike Kremľa. Ako vyplýva z dokumentov, Stalin sa najviac zo všetkého bál spoločenskej vzbury na hladujúcej Ukrajine. Represie, ktoré sa zakrátko začali, boli súčasne smerované proti ukrajinským sedliakom (teror hladom) a ukrajinskej inteligencii (individuálny teror v masovom meradle, čistka organizácií v komunistickej strane). Ostré represie neboli smerované proti ľuďom určitej národnosti, ale proti občanom Ukrajinského štátu. A je pochopiteľné, že sa jednalo o Ukrajincov. Jadro problému spočívalo v tom, že občania Ukrajiny aj v pokornej rubaške sovietskej republiky už samotnou svojou existenciou ohrozovali kremľovských zločincov, ktorí ovládli stranu a nové impérium, ktoré utvorila.

Keď hovoríme, že štát učinil ukrajinských sedliakov na sebe závislých tým, že im konfiškoval zásoby potravín, žiada sa od nás: ukážte dokument! Nie je na to dokument, nebola genocída. Ľudia, ktorí prežili Veľký hlad hovoria, že špeciálne brigády robili revízie v sedliackych hospodárstvach a brali im všetky potraviny. Desiatky, stovky, tisíce svedectiev z rôznych obcí tvoria kompaktný obraz. Treba z toho urobiť jediný možný záver: tí, ktorí robili revízie plnili rozkaz, hoci nebol napísaný na papieri. Ale od nás vyžadujú dokument...

Čo sa dá robiť, je možné ukázať aj písomný dokument, ale len v príslušnom kontexte. Rozprávanie o ňom treba začať od pripomenutia „práva piatich klasov”, ktorého úlohou bol boj s „márnením” obilia.

„Vychádzajúc v ústrety požiadavkám robotníkov a kolchozníkov” (čítame v preambule) Ústredný výkonný výbor a Rada ľudových komisárov ZSSR prijali dňa 7. augusta 1932 uznesenie „O ochrane imania štátnych podnikov, kolchozov a družstiev a posilnení spoločenského (socialistického) vlastníctva”. Za rozkrádanie imania sa navrhovalo zastrelenie, a „v prípade poľahčujúcich okolností” – odňatie slobody na obdobie nie kratšie ako 10 rokov[10].

V novembri roku 1932 . Stalin delegoval mimoriadne komisie pre otázky povinných dodávok obilia: pod vedením V.M. Molotova – pre USSR a L.M.Kaganoviča – pre Kubáň. V súlade s pokynmi, ktoré od neho získal, Molotov vyhotovil text dvoch uznesení, ÚV KS(b)U zo dňa 18. novembra a Rady ľudových komisárov USSR zo dňa 20 novembra, s rovnakým názvom „O predsavzatiach majúcich za účel zväčšenie povinných dodávok obilia ” (konečný text parafoval Stalin). Boli na ňom zlovestné body o trestaniu „dlžníkov” deputátom – mäsom a zemiakmi[11]. Politické byro ÚV WKP(b), využívajúc situáciu utvorenú teroristickými postupmi tých komisií, popísalo ukrajinizáciu Severného Kaukazu ako „petlurovskú”. V uznesení ÚV WKP(b) a Rady ľudových komisárov ZSSR zo dňa 14. decembra 1932 sa požadovalo,„aby sa na severnom Kaukaze okamžite prešlo v dokumentácii sovietskych a družstevných orgánov „ukrajinizovaných” regiónov, a taktiež vo všetkých novinách a časopisoch z jazyka ukrajinského na ruský jazyk ako najzrozumiteľnejší pre obyvateľov Kubáne, ako aj do jesene pripraviť školy na zmenu vyučovacieho jazyka na ruštinu”[12]. Behom decembra 1932 sa u sedliakov na tom území obilie neustále hľadalo. Na revízie si zvykli tí, ktorí boli revidovaní, ako aj tí ktorí revízie robili. Revízie boli vykonávané pod kontrolou príslušníkov NKVD a priamo to robili hladujúci členovia výborov chudobných sedliakov (ktorí dostávali určité percento z nájdeného obilia), ako aj robotníci vydelegovaní z miest. Rovnako ako v predchádzajúcom roku, dedina bola v rámci povinných dodávok, ešte pred revíziami, pozbavená takmer celého obilia.

Dňa 1 januára 1933 Stalin poslal do Charkova telegram so žiadosťou odovzdávania obilia a navrhol ÚV KSU(b) a Rade ľudových komisárov USSR „aby vidiecke rady, kolchozy, kolchozníci a jednotliví pracovníci boli široko oboznámení s tým, že: a) všetci, ktorí dobrovoľne odovzdajú štátu obilie, ktoré bolo predtým rozkradnuté a ukryté, nebudú prenasledovaní; b) kolchozom, kolchozníkom a jednotlivým pracovníkom, ktorí tvrdohlavo ukrývajú rozkradnuté obilie alebo utajujú pred evidenciou budú uložené najprísnejšie tresty podľa uznesenia Ústredného výkonného výboru a Rady ľudových komisárov ZSSR zo dňa 7. augusta 1932.”[13]

Telegram, ktorého celý obsah tvorili dva citované body sa zdá byť divný. Predtým sa Stalin neobracal na sedliakov žiadnej zväzovej republiky s hrozbami. Ba dokonca vedel, že na Ukrajine obilie nie je, pretože výsledok decembrových revízií čekistov bol mizerný. Napriek tomu je zmysel dokumentu zrozumiteľný, ak tie dva body spojíme. Druhý bod je adresovaný tým, ktorí ignorovali požiadavku v prvom bode, čiže neodovzdali obilie. A ako bolo  možné zistiť, kto neodovzdal ukryté obilie? Len revíziami! Takže telegram Stalina bol signálom pre vykonávania revízií.

Osoby, ktoré prežili Veľký hlad vypovedali, že behom tých revízií brali sedliakom nie len zemiaky a mäso so slaninou, podľa uznesenia vo veci trestania  vo forme deputátu , ale všetky potraviny. Takže telegram bezchybne poukazuje na človeka, ktorý dal signál k zahájeniu represívnej akcii spojenej s konfiškáciou potravín, čiže organizátora teroru pomocou hladu.

Postup Stalina musí byť analyzovaný v istej súvislosti. Na spoločnom zasadnutí politického byra ÚV a prezídia Centrálnej kontrolnej komisie WKP(b) dňa 27. novembra 1932 sa krach povinných dodávok obilia nedal do súvislosti s politikou prídelov (na ktorú nakoniec rezignovali v januári 1933) prenášajúc vzťahy medzi štátom a kolchozmi na daňový systém), ale so záškodníctvom a sabotážou v kolchozoch a sovchozoch. „Nebolo by múdre – prehlásil vtedy generálny sekretár – keby komunisti, vychádzajúc z predpokladu, že kolchozy tvoria socialistickú formu hospodárenia, neodpovedali drvivým úderom na úder tých iných kolchozníkov a kolchozov”[14].

Prapríčinou teroristických akcií bola snaha stalinskej skupiny, aby neboli obvinení z hospodárskej kómy v „socialistickom stavebníctve”, ktorá vyvolala hlad v celej zemi. „Drvivý úder” bol nasmerovaný proti republike, ktorá mohla využiť katastrofálne následky „ponukania” hospodárstva, aby vystúpila zo ZSSR. Stalin sa obával že vedenie USSR by mohlo využiť spoločenskú vzburu dozrievajúcu medzi sedliakmi hladujúcimi dva roky po sebe Pozbavenie ich všetkých potravín bolo efektívnym prostriedkom stlmenia odbojného potenciálu ukrajinského vidieka.

Stalin sa neobmedzil len na konfiškáty potravín. 22. januára 1933 . vlastnou rukou (rukopis sa zachoval) napísal nariadenie ÚV VKS(b) a Rady ľudových komisárov ZSSR začínajúce sa slovami: „ÚV VVKS a Sownarkom dostali informáciu, že na Kubáni a Ukrajine sa začali masové odchody sedliakov „za chlebom” do Centrálno-černozemského obvodu, k Volge, do Moskovskej oblasti, Západného obvodu, Bieloruska”. Kremeľ žiadal od vedenia susedných regiónov blokádu USRR a Kubáne[15].

U osôb, ktoré prežili obdobie Veľkého hladu vznikol dojem, že štátna moc ničila ľudí za základe etnickej príslušnosti. Ukázalo sa, že skutočnosť je komplikovanejšia: mocenské orgány ničili a súčasne zachraňovali ukrajinských sedliakov. Pavel Postyšev, ktorý pricestoval na konci januára 1933 na Ukrajinu s diktátorským zmocnením mal dve úlohy: zorganizovať jarné sejby a zlikvidovať „nacionalistickú odchýlku” v strane a sovietskom aparáte. Vo februári uvoľnil zásoby obilia v USSR, aby sa nakŕmili hladujúci. Pomoc poskytoval jedine tým, ktorí boli schopní pracovať. Tak učili sedliakov pracovať v kolchoze. Postyšev súčasne zaútočil na Ukrajinskú komunistickú stranu ako aj na nestraníkov a inteligentov. Počet osôb, ktorých čekisti uväznili v roku 1932 bol 74 849, a v roku 1933 124 463[16]. Po Veľkom hlade a masových represiách v rokoch 1937-1938 republika stratila svoj odbojný potenciál (okrem západných obvodov, ktoré sa stali súčasťou ZSSR v roku 1939 ).

Ľudia, ktorí , ktorí vrhli Ukrajinu do víru tých hrôzostrašných represií už nežijú. Neexituje totalitný štát, vedenie ktorého zodpovedá za vyvolanie Veľkého hladu. Očakávame od medzinárodnej verejnosti, aby ten zločin bol uznaný ako genocída Očakávame to predovšetkým od Ruskej Federácie , ktorej obyvateľov sa tiež dotkli mnohomiliónové straty v období neochvejného vládnutia Jozefa Stalina.



[1] Сталин И. Сочинения. – Т. 13. – С.183-184.

[2] Famine in Ukraine 1932–1933. – Edmonton, 1986. – P.12.

[3] Davies R.W., Wheatcroft Stephen G. The Years of Hunger. Soviet Agriculture, 1931–  1933. – Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. – P. 481-484.

[4] Ibidem. – P.441.

[5] Пайпс Ричард. Россия при большевиках. – М., 1997. – С.184.

[6] Сталин и Каганович. Переписка. 1931–1936 гг. – М., 2001. – С.18.

[7] Taktiež tam, s. 273-274.

[8] Lynne Viola. Peasant rebels under Stalin. – New York, Oxford, 1996. – P.138-140.

[9] Сталин и Каганович. Переписка. 1931–1936 гг. – С.274.

[10] Tamże, tom 3, s. 453-454.

[11] Голод 1932–1933 років на Україні: очима істориків, мовою документів. – К., 1990. –     С.254; Колективізація і голод на Україні. 1929–1933. – К., 1992. – С.549.

[12] Tamże, s. 293-294.

[13] Голод 1932–1933 років на Україні: очима істориків, мовою документів. К., 1990. С.308.

[14] Трагедия советской деревни. – Том 3. – С.559.

[15] Tamże, s. 32, 635.

[16] Нікольський В.М. Репресивна діяльність органів державної безпеки СРСР в Україні     (кінець 1920‑х – 1950‑ті рр.). – Донецьк, 2003. – С.119.

 

Photo of the publication Varšavské povstanie vo vedomí Poliakov. Múzeum Varšavského povstania ako miesto pamäti
Paweł Ukielski

Varšavské povstanie vo vedomí Poliakov. Múzeum Varšavského povstania ako miesto pamäti

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Poland
  • remembrance
  • Warsaw Uprising

Varšavské povstanie je jednou z kľúčových udalostí pre pochopenie dejín Varšavy, Poľska, strednej Európy a tiež 2. svetovej vojny. Na jednej strane vysvetľuje identitu mesta, ktoré bolo v roku 1944 úplne zrovnané so zemou, na druhej ukazuje zak0 otročenie Poľska a strednej Európy nastalo po vojne a na tretej strane prezentuje posledný príklad skutočnej nemecko-sovietskej spolupráce v rámci snahy zničiť poľské hlavné mesto. Povstanie ukazuje, že vojna nebola len jednoduchým bojom dobra so zlom (ako sa často na to nazerá na západe Európy), ale zúčastňovali sa jej tri stany s rôznymi cieľmi – dva totalitné systémy a svet západných demokracií. V čase trvania vojny sa zmenili spojenecké vzťahy – Západ sa spojil s jedným totalitným systémom, aby zvíťazil nad druhým, pričom cenu za to spojenie zaplatila stredná Európa.

Varšavské povstanie sa nikdy nedostalo do kánonu pamäti. Stalo sa to preto, že nikomu na tom nezáležalo – ani poľskej komunistickej vláde, ani Kremľu dokonca ani západnej aliancii. Pamiatka o Povstaní v čase obdobia komunizmu bola starostlivo prekrucovaná – charakter a intenzita klamstiev bola rôzna, pričom vláda nemohla súhlasiť, aby sa odhalila celá pravda o povstaní, keďže by to kompletne narušilo legitimitu jej vládnutia. Ak by sa dovolilo oficiálne povedať celú pravdu o Povstaní, nebolo by možné nepovedať o legálnom poľskom štáte, ktorý viac ako dva mesiace fungoval na neveľkom priestore Poľska, o orgánoch, ktoré fungovali výnimočne správne vzhľadom na extrémne podmienky, v ktorých museli pôsobiť ako aj o projekte povojnového zriadenia Poľska, ktorý bol pripravený a jeho základy publikované v „Zbierkach zákonov“. Z tohto dôvodu sa po období najhoršej a najprimitívnejšej stalinskej propagandy spolu s „odmäkom” v roku 1956 stalo možné pochváliť „hrdinov Povstania”, ale už nie jeho veliteľov či širšie – zbrojné sily zvané „Armia Krajowa“. Úplne sa vyhýbali tomu, akú štátotvornú funkciu plnil Podzemný poľský štát), legitimite vlády, formovaniu sa občianskej spoločnosti a medzinárodnej situácii.

V roku 1989 Fukuyama ohlásil „koniec histórie”, predpovedajúc, že spolu s pádom komunizmu sa skončilo obdobie veľkých ideologických konfliktov a celý svet smeruje k prijatiu liberálnej demokracie. V Poľsku v deväťdesiatych rokoch nadobudol „koniec histórie” podobu hesla „budujeme budúcnosť, minulosť nechajme historikom” a odsunutie otázok spojených s kolektívnou pamäťou mimo hranice hlavného prúdu politickej debaty. Nastala paradoxná situácia, v ktorej síce nastala plná sloboda historických výskumov a prezentovania ich výsledkov, ale rezultáty tých prác sa nedostali k širšej verejnosti.

Na začiatku tohto storočia je možné na celom svete sledovať, že história a kladenie otázok spojených s identitou sa vracajú na pôdu verejnej debaty. Symbolickým zlomovým momentom boli teroristické útoky 11. septembra 2001. Zároveň sa v Európe konalo pomerne dôležité prehodnotenie historickej politiky – príkladom je Nemecko alebo Rusko (najmä ich vzťah k pamäti o 2. svetovej vojne). V tom čase sa začali diať zmeny aj v Poľsku, kde si stále častejšie uvedomovali, že nie je možné vybudovať vedomé a moderné spoločenstvo bez spoluúčasti pamäti, že „studený” projekt spoločenstva zakladajúci sa výlučne na hospodárskych vzťahoch nemôže správne fungovať.

V tej atmosfére zmien bolo rozhodnuté o výstavbe Múzea Varšavského povstania. Samotný osud tohto projektu predstavujú mimoriadne zaujímavý vklad do povojnových dejín Poľska a ukazuje vzťahy jednotlivých vlád voči kolektívnej pamäti. Myšlienka uctenia tej pamäte vznikla už v 40-tých rokoch, následne znovu ožila v období prvej „Solidarity”, potom sa behom niekoľkých rokov v období III. Poľskej republiky stále vracala ako aktuálna téma, avšak menej dôležitá, ktorá sa nemohla dočkať realizácie. Až v roku 2003 vtedajší primátor Varšavy, Lech Kaczyński, rozhodol o jeho lokalizácii, menoval splnomocnenca pre výstavbu – Jana Ołdakowského a termín otvorenia – 60. výročie Povstania.

V čase projektovania expozície Múzea boli prijaté viaceré základné premisy. Po prvé, malo to byť múzeum narácie, plynulým spôsobom rozprávajúce istý príbeh. Rozprávaniu mnohoaspektového príbehu o Varšavskom povstaní boli podriadené všetky výrazové prostriedky – fotografie, filmy, textové informácie, multimédiá, scénografické inštalácie a nakoniec tiež objekty. Po druhé, expozícia by mala vtiahnuť diváka do prezentovaného príbehu, využiť všetky prostriedky a predstaviť atmosféru dní povstania. Po tretie, súčasne by nemala nikoho ponechať ľahostajným, mala by prinútiť k individuálnemu premýšľaniu o prezentovanej histórii. V tom zmysle je Múzeum Varšavského povstania interaktívnou inštitúciou – nie preto, že využíva moderne multimediálne prostriedky, ale preto, že absorbuje diváka, ktorý vstupuje do interakcie s históriou.

Dôležitou problematikou bola otázka, kto by mal byť hlavným adresátom expozície. Prirodzeným sa zdal byť mladý človek, taký, ktorého treba presvedčiť, že dejiny môžu byť zaujímavé a že netvoria len zbierku údajov a faktov. Mladí príjemcovia si majú uvedomiť, že ľudia, ktorí bojovali v Povstaní, boli takí istí ako oni. Druhou skupinou, o ktorej bolo treba venovať pozornosť, najmä v kontexte neúplných vedomosti o poľských dejinách, boli cudzinci. A treťou z najdôležitejších cieľových skupín, ktorej požiadavky sú trochu odlišnejšie ako tých dvoch prvých, boli odbojári – priami účastníci Povstania.

Po definovaní cieľových skupín bolo treba sa zamyslieť, akým spôsobom je možné ich osloviť. Bola prijatá hypotéza že, aby bolo možné sa priblížiť k adresátom je potrebné „hovoriť ich jazykom”. Preto – pre mladého návštevníka – je dôležité široké využitie nových technológií a frekventovanosť stimulov rôzneho druhu – zvukových, vizuálnych a multimediálnych. Aby sa oslovila skupina cudzincov spravili sa prakticky všetky texty expozície v dvoch jazykoch – v poľštine a v angličtine. Odbojári však boli chápaní osobitne – oni nie sú hosťami v Múzeu, ale spoluhostiteľmi, ktorí tiež rozhodujú o špecifickej mágii tohto miesta.

Aby sa dosiahli naplánované ciele bola behom celého roka spolu s prácami s Múzeom tvorená atmosféra okolo vznikajúceho miesta. Veľmi dôležité bolo presvedčiť obyvateľov Varšavy, že práve pred ich očami vzniká dôležité miesto pre identitu mesta, dôležitý bod na mape hlavného mesta. Pre tieto účely sa nadviazala blízka spolupráca s médiami, ktoré podrobne informovali o všetkých krokoch spojených s projektovaním a realizáciou Múzea. Zároveň boli organizované viaceré občianske akcie, napríklad zbierka povstaleckých pamiatok s cieľom aktivizácie ľudí do projektu. Všetky tie kroky spôsobili, že otvorenie Múzea sa stalo veľmi očakávanou udalosťou.

Naplánované efekty sa podarilo dosiahnuť – Múzeum v roku 2007 navštívilo takmer pol milióna návštevníkov. odbojári sa cítia byť jeho spoluhostiteľmi a zároveň viac ako 60% návštevníkov sú to ľudia vo veku pod 30 rokov. Na základe reakcií návštevníkov je pozorovať, že prakticky nikto neodchádza z Múzea ľahostajný. Múzeum sa okrem iného stalo miestom typu „must see” pre zahraničných turistov, ktorých na návštevách expozície pribúda. Takisto zahraničné štátne návštevy, vrátane korunovaných hláv, prezidentov a premiérov sú v Múzeu časté.

Avšak Múzeum Varšavského povstania nie je len expozíciou – skladá sa z viacerých oddelení, venujúcich sa rôznym oblastiam pôsobnosti – existuje tu Archiwum Historii Mówionej (Archív rozprávanej histórie) zbierajúci rozhovory so všetkými žijúcimi Povstalcami, Centrum Wolontariatu (Centrum dobrovoľníctva), knižnica vrátane archívu, široko pôsobiace sekcie Sekcja Historyczna i Dydaktyczna (Historická a didaktická sekcia), vydávajú sa rôzne publikácie. Pobočkou Múzea je Instytut Stefana Starzyńskiego (Inštitút Stefana Starzyńskiego), ktorého úlohou je venovať sa a skúmať identitu mesta Varšavy ako pokračovanie diela veľkého primátora hlavného mesta.

Múzeum organizuje veľa kultúrnych podujatí, ktoré sa často nachádzajú mimo tradične chápanej muzeálnej činnosti. Najdôležitejšie sú, samozrejme, oslavy jednotlivých výročí Varšavského povstania, ktoré sa neobmedzujú len na dôstojné akadémie a oficiálne prejavy, ale zahrňujú tiež veľmi doteraz úspešné koncerty pre mládež, divadelné (či „paradivadelné ”) predstavenia, spoločenské akcie a podujatia na otvorenom priestranstve pre najmladších. V rámci každoročne organizovaného Festiwalu Warszawskiego (Varšavského festivalu) „Tyrmand-Komeda-Polański” pripravuje Inštitút Stefana Starzyńského rôznorodé kultúrne podujatia nadväzujúce na Varšavu z päťdesiatych a šesťdesiatych rokov. V Múzeu sú realizované cyklické stretnutia s históriou, filmom, architektúrou, výtvarným umením, zároveň umelci a maliari tvoria svoje diela na tzv. „Múre umenia” (Mur Sztuki) v Parku Wolności (Park Slobody) obklopujúcom Múzeum.

Veľkorysé, majúce široký dosah, aktivity spojené s modernou, naračnou expozíciou tak tvoria špecifickú klímu Múzea Varšavského povstania. Múzeum je na jednej strane miestom pamäte, na druhej strane tiež aktívne žijúcim centrom na kultúrnej mape Varšavy, spolutvoriacim jej identitu. Výnimočné miesto Varšavského povstania v kolektívnej pamäti, modernosť odkazu a komplexnosť pôsobenia ktoré sa stretli na jednom mieste, priniesli efekt v podobe inštitúcie priťahujúcej masy.

Photo of the publication Ukrajinský Ľvov od roku 1991 – mesto selektívnych spomienok
Delphine Bechtel

Ukrajinský Ľvov od roku 1991 – mesto selektívnych spomienok

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Lemberg
  • Ukraine
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • 20th century
  • Lviv
  • History of Ukraine
  • multiculturalism

Dejiny západnej Ukrajiny a bývalého Haliča sú komplikovanejšie než dejiny zvyšnej časti Ukrajiny. Halič bol súčasťou viacerých štátov a mocností. Po založení mesta Ľvov kniežaťom Danylom v roku 1256 patrila táto oblasť 400 rokov k Poľsku a náväzne 146 rokov k Habsburskej monarchii (1772–1918). Po Prvej svetovej vojne sa tento región stal časťou nezávislého Poľska, v rokoch 1939/1941 nasledovalo sovietske a nacistické podmanenie a na vyše päť desaťročí začlenenie do ZSSR. Až v roku 1991 získala Ukrajina nezávislosť.

V tridsiatych rokoch žilo v trojnárodnom meste Lemberg/Lwów/Ľvov 51 percent Poliakov, asi jedna tretina Židov a 16 percent Ukrajincov. Po likvidácii Židov a vyhnaní poľského obyvateľstva bol Ľvov prakticky na 85 percent prázdny a mesta sa zmocnili ruskí/sovietski štátni úradníci, dôstojníci a ukrajinskí sedliaci. Minulosť tohto mesta ako kolísky ukrajinského národného hnutia bola odkrytá až po dosiahnutí nezávislosti. Dnes je Ľvov ako centrum západnej Ukrajiny v kontraste k silne rusifikovanému východu krajiny záštitou ukrajinskej identity. Z toho vyplynuli antagonistické historiografie, nezlučiteľné „národné pamäte“, neprekonateľné verzie udalostí, hrdinov a mučeníkov.

Pri hľadaní spájajúcich naratív kontinuálnej ukrajinskej minulosti preukázali lokálni patrioti v Ľvove po roku 1991 úctu rôznym osobnostiam premenovaním ulíc, zriadením pamätníkov, pamätných tabulí alebo organizovaním verejných osláv. Dôležití predstavitelia ukrajinskej literatúry ako napríklad básnik Taras Ševčenko alebo spisovateľ a bojovník za slobodu Ivan Franko boli už za sovietskeho režimu uctievaní ako nositelia kultúry ukrajinského národa. Vodca kozáckych povstaní v 17. storočí Bohdan Chmeľnický patrí tiež do panteónu sovietsko-ukrajinskej pamiatky, hoci toto mesto, vtedy patriace Poľsku, neobraňoval ale obliehal. Pozorovanie veľkých historických postáv ako národných historikov Mychajla Hrušovskeho alebo Mychajla Drahomanova sa orientuje na pan-ukrajinskú identitu. Okrem toho toto mesto prispelo k vytvoreniu lokálnej tradície, ktorá spočíva na partikulárnych dejinách Haliča (po ukrajinsky Haličina). Táto konštrukcia sa zakladá na komplexných procesoch obratu, zvýšenia hodnoty, rehabilitácie, ale aj zamlčania historických udalostí a priebehov.

Prvá charakteristická črta tejto politiky je uvedomenie si histórie mesta pri takmer úplnej absencii poľskej, židovskej a tiež sovietskej/ukrajinskej časti týchto dejín. Staré mesto Ľvova je klenotom renesancie ako aj neskoršej architektúry pod vplyvom viedenskej a krakovskej secesie. Avšak o tom sa prakticky nikde nedá verejne dočítať. Dnes ostalo z tejto minulosti už len niekoľko stôp: jidišské alebo poľské nápisy vystupujú spod šúpajúcej sa farby niekedy opäť na povrch. Nikde miestne úrady oficiálne nepripomínajú zavraždenie 160.000 Židov nacistami alebo deportácie vyše 100.000 Poliakov v rokoch 1945/46. Pamätník pre obete geta v Ľvove bol v roku 1992 vybudovaný zo súkromných peňazí.

Všetko, čo v meste pripomínalo niekdajšiu sovietsku prítomnosť, muselo zmiznúť. Podobne ako v Rige a v iných pobaltských mestách boli mnohé pamätníky Červenej armády zbúrané, ruské školy boli zatvorené. Názvy ako Puškinova alebo Lermontovova ulica, nachádzajúce sa vo štvrti, v ktorej boli ulice premenované podľa predstaviteľov Organizácie ukrajinských nacionalistov (OUN) a Ukrajinskej povstaleckej armády (UPA), museli ustúpiť.

Druhou charakteristickou črtou tejto dejinnej politiky je vytvorenie ukrajinského národného kontinua v meste, ktoré bolo vlastne až od roku 1945 ukrajinizované a ktorého ukrajinská kontinuita prakticky neexistuje. Táto vymyslená kontinuita začína pri Danylovi, haličskom kniežati v 13. storočí a siaha až po ukrajinského speváka popovej hudby Ihora Bilozira, ktorého v roku 2000 zabili Rusi. Tak sa dostaneme od Západoukrajinskej ľudovej republiky, ktorá bola v Ľvove vyhlásená 9. novembra 1918 a existovala tri mesiace až po „akt“ dňa 30. júna 1941, prostredníctvom ktorého ukrajinskí nacionalisti z Organizácie ukrajinských nacionalistov (OUN) Stepan Bandera a Jaroslav Stečko, ktorí spolu s Wehrmachtom vpochodovali na Ukrajinu, vyhlásili nezávislosť Ukrajiny, ktorú však nacistické Nemecko strpelo len niekoľko málo dní.

Ultranacionalisti, pravicoví extrémisti a kolaboratéri nacistov boli rehabilitovaní, pretože bojovali proti Rusom. Múzeum dejín mesta nanovo pretvorilo svoje priestory pod titulom „Snahy Ukrajincov po slobode a nezávislosti“. Tu sú teoretici radikálneho, fašistického nacionalizmu ako Dmytro Doncov, členovia ukrajinských práporov Wehrmachtu „Nachtigall“ [slávik] a „Roland“ ako aj členovia divízie SS Halič, ku ktorej sa chcelo prihlásiť až okolo 80.000 ukrajinských dobrovoľníkov, nekriticky znázornení ako hrdinovia. Dve osobnosti z Organizácie ukrajinských nacionalistov (OUN) a Ukrajinskej povstaleckej armády (UPA) sú tu mimoriadne vyzdvihnuté: Stepan Bandera, ktorý je v Poľsku v prvom rade vnímaný ako vrah a pre ktorého bol v roku 2007 postavený monumentálny memoriálny komplex vedľa kostola Sv. Alžbety, a Roman Šuchevič, veliteľ práporu „Nachtigall“.

Novinkou od rokov 2006–2007 sú zmeny pri pomenovaní vojenských jednotiek, ktoré kolaborovali s nacistami, v tom zmysle, že nemecké názvy teraz ustupujú ukrajinským názvom. Prápor Wehrmachtu „Nachtigall“ sa teraz objavuje pod názvom „DUN“ (Druzhyna ukraïnskikh nacjonalistiv/Légia ukrajinských nacionalistov) a divízia SS „Halič“ pod názvom „U.D. Halytschyna“ (Ukraïnska Divizja Halytschyna/Ukrajinská divízia Halič) alebo „Prvá U.D. Halytschyna“. Pre tento účel boli z vystavených uniforiem odstránené vyobrazenia lebky, lemovanie, zrkadlá a služobné odznaky SS, čím sa výpoveď týchto muzeálnych exponátov zbagatelizovala.

Treťou charakteristickou črtou tejto spomienkovej politiky na mesto Ľvov je vynájdenie nového mučeníctva. V kontexte „konkurencie obetí“ ide o nájdenie takých mučeníkov, ktorí sú vhodní pre oltár národnej spomienkovej konštrukcie. Najdôležitejším orientačným bodom tejto viktimizácie na Ukrajine je veľký hladomor („Holodomor“) z rokov 1932–1933, o ktorého medzinárodné uznanie ako „ukrajinského holokaustu“ sa ukrajinská vláda veľmi usiluje. V Ľvove ostali v živej pamäti predovšetkým tie masakre, ktoré spáchal Národný komisariát vnútra v Ľvovských väzniciach v posledných dňoch pred vpádom Nemcov v júni 1941. Národný komisariát vnútra dostal vtedy rozkaz buď odtransportovať politických väzňov do vnútra Sovietskeho zväzu alebo ich zlikvidovať. Počas rýchleho vpádu Nemcov bolo vo väzeniach zastrelených viac než 4.000 osôb. Až od roku 1991 smú byť tieto ohavné činy opäť pomenované. Mestské úrady ako aj organizácie pre pomoc obetiam zriadili viaceré pamätníky venované týmto tragickým udalostiam. Na týchto nových pamätníkoch však nejestvuje žiadny poukaz na ukrutné pogromy, ktoré sa po vpáde Wehrmachtu diali v uliciach mesta a ktoré na židovskom civilnom obyvateľstve spáchala pomstychtivá zberba, ukrajinská pomocná polícia a ukrajinskí nacionalisti pod dohľadom nacistov.

Zlúčenie hrdinov nacizmu a obetí stalinizmu v jednom spoločnom mauzóleu sa vyrovnáva sakralizácii ukrajinského utrpenia. Toto mauzóleum bolo slávnostne otvorené v roku 2006 na cintoríne v Łyczakowe. Táto nová časť cintorína bola zriadená tak, že prečnieva nad poľským vojenským cintorínom pre obete Prvej svetovej vojny (Cmentarz Lwowskich Orląt) a tak ho symbolicky vytláča. Toto spomienkové miesto je venované pamiatke práporu „Nachtigall“ a divízii SS „Halič“ („Prvá U.D. Halytschyna“). V roku 2006 oznámili mestské úrady svoj zámer premiestniť sem telesné pozostatky Stepana Banderu, Jevhena Konovalca, Andriya Melnyka a iných vedúcich osobností z Organizácie ukrajinských nacionalistov (OUN) a Ukrajinskej povstaleckej armády (UPA).

Ľvov je priam zachvátený horúčkou spomínania, pričom sa tu prejavuje selektívna spomienková politika a muzealizácia. Tematizuje sa len ukrajinské znovuzrodenie a ukrajinské utrpenie a naproti tomu sa zabúda na multikultúrne dedičstvo mesta, ktoré je priam vymazané zo spomienok.

Ako sa s týmito pamätníkmi stotožnia poľskí, nemeckí, americkí a židovskí turisti? Ako sa dá táto politika spomínania zladiť so žiadúcou intergráciou Ukrajiny do Európy? Dozvedia sa ešte budúce generácie západoukrajinských žiakov napriek tomuto revizionistickému popieraniu, že títo „hrdinovia“ sa upísali službe Wehrmachtu a SS? Bude sa vôbec niekedy niekto pýtať na to, do akej miery sa podieľali na „etnických čistkách“ voči Poliakom a Židom? To všetsko sú vážne otázky vzhľadom na problematické selektívne znázorňovanie dejín, ktoré múzeá, ulice a pamätníky v ukrajinskom Ľvove od roku 1991 zmenili a formovali.

Photo of the publication Ukraiński L’viv od 1991 r. – miasto wybiórczej pamięci
Delphine Bechtel

Ukraiński L’viv od 1991 r. – miasto wybiórczej pamięci

20 August 2011
Tags
  • polityka pamięci
  • Lviv
  • Lwów
  • Galicja
  • historia Lwowa
  • historia zachodniej Ukrainy
  • ukraińska polityka historyczna

Historia zachodniej Ukrainy oraz byłej Galicji jest bardziej złożona niż historia pozostałej części Ukrainy. Galicja należała do kilku państw i mocarstw. Po założeniu miasta Lwowa przez księcia Daniela w 1256 r. terytorium to przez 400 lat należało do Polski, a następnie przez 146 lat do monarchii habsburskiej (1772–1918). Po I Wojnie Światowej stało się częścią niepodległej Polski, lata 1939/1941 były czasem podboju sowieckiego i nazistowskiego, a następnie region ten na ponad 50 lat został wcielony do ZSSR, zanim w 1991 r. Ukraina uzyskała niepodległość.

W latach 30-tych w mieście trzech narodów Lwów/L’viv żyło 51% Polaków, jedna trzecia Żydów i 16% Ukraińców. Po eksterminacji Żydów i wypędzeniu ludności polskiej Lwów opustoszał praktycznie w 85 procentach. Miasto objęli w posiadanie rosyjscy/radzieccy urzędnicy i wojskowi oraz ukraińscy chłopi. Przeszłość tego miasta jako kolebki ukraińskiego ruchu narodowego została ujawniona dopiero po uzyskaniu niepodległości przez Ukrainę. Dzisiaj jako centrum zachodniej Ukrainy w kontraście do silnie zrusyfikowanego wschodu kraju miasto stanowi ostoję ukraińskiej tożsamości. Stąd też wzięły się antagonistyczne historiografie, niemożliwe do pogodzenia „pamięci narodowe”, rozbieżne wersje wydarzeń, bohaterów i męczenników.

W poszukiwaniu łączącej narracji o ciągłej ukraińskiej przeszłości lokalne autorytety we Lwowie po 1991 r. oddawały cześć różnym osobistościom, zmieniając nazwy ulic, wznosząc pomniki, wieszając tablice pamiątkowe i organizując publiczne uroczystości. Wpływowi przedstawiciele literatury ukraińskiej, tacy jak poeta Taras Szewczenko czy pisarz i bojownik o wolność Iwan Franko jeszcze w czasach reżimu sowieckiego byli czczeni jako rzecznicy kultury narodu ukraińskiego. Również przywódca powstań kozackich w XVII w. Bogdan Chmielnicki należy do panteonu sowiecko-ukraińskiej pamięci, mimo że wcale nie bronił miasta, które wówczas było polskie, tylko je oblegał. Opieranie się na wielkich postaciach historycznych, takich jak historycy narodu Mychajło Hruszewski czy Mychajło Drahomanow ma na celu budowanie pan-ukraińskiej tożsamości. Miasto przyczyniło się również do stworzenia lokalnej tradycji bazującej na szczególnej historii Galicji (po ukraińsku Галичина [Halychyna]). Konstrukcja ta zakorzeniona jest w złożonych procesach odwrócenia, rewaluacji, rehabilitacji, ale również przemilczenia zdarzeń i procesów historycznych.

Pierwszą cechą charakterystyczną tej polityki jest przedstawianie historii miasta z niemal zupełnym pominięciem jej polskiej, żydowskiej i radzieckiej/rosyjskiej części. Starówka Lwowa jest klejnotem renesansu oraz późniejszej architektury z wpływami secesji wiedeńskiej i krakowskiej. Jednak praktycznie w żadnym miejscu publicznym nie można o tym przeczytać. Dzisiaj pozostało zaledwie parę śladów tej przeszłości. Napisy w jidysz lub po polsku czasami prześwitują przez łuszczącą się farbę. Władze lokalne nigdzie nie przypominają oficjalnie o wymordowaniu przez nazistów 160 000 Żydów czy o deportowaniu ponad 100 000 Polaków w latach 1945/46. Pomnik ofiar getta w Lwowie został wzniesiony w 1992 r. z prywatnych środków.

Wszystko, co przypominało o sowieckiej obecności w mieście, też musiało zniknąć. Podobnie jak w Rydze i innych miastach w krajach bałtyckich, niektóre pomniki Armii Czerwonej zostały rozebrane. Rosyjskie szkoły zostały zamknięte. Puszkin i Lermontow musieli ustąpić miejsca w dzielnicy, w której ulice zostały przemianowane ku czci członków Organizacji Ukraińskich Nacjonalistów (OUN) i Ukraińskiej Powstańczej Armii (UPA).

Drugą cechą charakterystyczną tej polityki historycznej jest tworzenie ukraińskiego narodowego kontinuum w mieście, które dopiero po roku 1945 zostało zukrainizowane i którego ukraińska ciągłość narodowa w praktyce nie istnieje. Ta wymyślona ciągłość rozpoczyna się od Daniela, galicyjskiego księcia z XIII w. i sięga po ukraińskiego piosenkarza pop Ihora Biłozira, który w 2000 r. został zabity przez Rosjan. Tak od istniejącej trzy miesiące Zachodnioukraińskiej Republiki Ludowej, która została powołana do życia 9 listopada 1918 r. w L’vivie dochodzimy do „Aktu” z 30 czerwca 1941 r., którym Ukraińcy nacjonaliści z OUN, Stepan Bandera i Jarosław Stećko, którzy weszli do miasta razem z Wehrmachtem, proklamowali niepodległość Ukrainy, która wszakże tylko przez kilka dni była tolerowana przez narodowo-socjalistyczne Niemcy.

Ultranacjonaliści, prawicowi ekstremiści i kolaboranci zostali zrehabilitowani, ponieważ walczyli przeciwko Rosjanom. Muzeum historii miasta na nowo urządziło sale zatytułowane „Dążenie Ukraińców do wolności i niepodległości”. Bezkrytycznie jako bohaterów przedstawiono tam teoretyków radykalnego, faszystowskiego nacjonalizmu takich jak Dmytro Doncow, członków ukraińskich batalionów Wehrmachtu „Nachtigall“ i „Roland“ oraz ukraińskiej dywizji Waffen SS, do której zgłosiło się nawet 80 000 ukraińskich ochotników. Wyróżnione zostały dwie osobistości z OUN/UPA: Stepan Bandera, w Polsce odbierany w pierwszym rzędzie jako morderca, któremu w 2007 r. obok Kościoła św. Elżbiety wystawiono monumentalny kompleks upamiętniający, oraz Roman Szuchewycz, dowódca  batalionu „Nachtigall“.

Nowością są wprowadzone w latach 2006–2007 zmiany w nazywaniu tych jednostek wojskowych, które kolaborowały z nazistami, polegające na tym, że nazwy niemieckie ustępują ukraińskim. Batalion Wehrmachtu „Nachtigall“ pojawia się teraz jako „DUN“ (Druzhyna ukraïnskikh nacjonalistiv, Drużyna ukraińskich nacjonalistów), a dywizja Waffen SS „Galizien” jako „U.D. Галичина (Halychyna)“ (Ukraïnska Divizja Галичина (Halychyna)) lub „pierwsza U.D. Галичина (Halychyna)“. W tym celu z wystawionych mundurów usunięto czaszki, obszywki, patki i inne oznaczenia służbowe, w ten sposób unieszkodliwiając muzealne eksponaty.

Trzecią cechą charakterystyczną polityki pamięci miasta Lwów jest tworzenie nowego męczeństwa. W kontekście „konkurencji ofiar” chodzi o to, by znaleźć męczenników odpowiednich na ołtarz narodowej konstrukcji pamięci. Najważniejszym punktem odniesienia tej wiktymizacji na Ukrainie jest wielki głód („Holodomor“) w latach 1932–1933, o którego międzynarodowe uznanie jako „ukraińskiego Holocaustu” mocno zabiega rząd. We Lwowie w pamięci obecne są przede wszystkim masakry przeprowadzone przez NKWD w ostatnich dniach przed wejściem Niemców w czerwcu 1941 r. we lwowskich więzieniach. NKWD otrzymała wtedy rozkaz przewiezienia więźniów politycznych w głąb ZSRR lub ich likwidacji. W obliczu szybkiego wkroczenia Niemców w więzieniach zastrzelono ponad 4000 osób. Od 1991 r. o tych makabrach znowu wolno mówić. Władze miasta oraz organizacje reprezentujące ofiary wystawiły wiele pomników upamiętniających te tragiczne wydarzenia. Nowe pomniki nie przypominają jednak o straszliwych pogromach, które po wkroczeniu Wehrmachtu pod nadzorem nazistów zostały dokonane na żydowskiej ludności cywilnej przez żądną zemsty tłuszczę, Ukraińską Policję Pomocniczą oraz ukraińskich nacjonalistów.

Zestawienie bohaterów nacjonalizmu z ofiarami stalinizmu we wspólnym mauzoleum równa się sakralizacji ukraińskiego cierpienia. Mauzoleum zostało otwarte w 2006 r. na Cmentarzu Łyczakowskim. Ta nowa część cmentarza została tak zaprojektowana, że przewyższa polski cmentarz wojskowy z I Wojny Światowej (Cmentarz Lwowskich Orląt), a zatem symbolicznie nad nim dominuje. W tym miejscu pamięci cześć oddawana jest znowu cześć batalionowi „Nachtigall“ i dywizji Waffen SS „Galizien“ („Pierwsza U.D. Галичина (Halychyna)“). W 2006 r. władze miasta ogłosiły zamiar przeniesienia tam szczątków Stepana Bandery, Jewhena Konowalca, Andrija Melnyka oraz innych przywódców OUN/UPA.

Lwów jest miastem pogrążonym w prawdziwej gorączce pamięci. Jednocześnie stosuje się selektywną politykę pamięci i muzealizację. Jedynymi podnoszonymi tematami są: odrodzenie Ukrainy i ukraińskie cierpienie. O wielokulturowym dziedzictwie miasta się natomiast zapomina i je wypiera.

Jak w tym krajobrazie pomników odnajdą się polscy, niemieccy, amerykańscy i żydowscy turyści ze swoimi narracjami? Jak taka polityka pasuje do upragnionej integracji Ukrainy z Europą? Czy przy takim rewizjonistycznym ukrywaniu przeszłości przyszłe pokolenia zachodnio-ukraińskich uczniów dowiedzą się, że ci „bohaterowie” zaciągnęli się na służbę Wehrmachtu i Waffen SS? Czy ktoś zapyta, na ile brali udział w „czystkach etnicznych” prowadzonych na Polakach i Żydach? Są to poważne pytania w obliczu problematycznego, wybiórczego przedstawiania historii, które od 1991 r. zmieniło muzea, ulice i pomniki w ukraińskim L’vivie.

 


prof. Delphine Bechtel -  zastępczyni dyrektora Centre Interdisciplinaire de Recherches Centre-Européennes, profesor Wydziału Studiów Germańskich Uniwersytetu Paris IV - Sorbonne. Jej zainteresowania naukowe obejmują m.in.: literaturę i kulturę jidysz w Europie Środkowo- Wschodniej, politykę, kulturę i kontakty literackie pomiędzy niemieckimi a żydowskimi pisarzami hebrajskimi lub pisarzami jidysz w Europie Środkowo- Wschodniej (Rosja, Polska), miasta wielokulturowe w Europie Środkowej i Wschodniej.

Photo of the publication Ukrainian Lviv since 1991 – a city of selective memories
Delphine Bechtel

Ukrainian Lviv since 1991 – a city of selective memories

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Lemberg
  • Ukraine
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • 20th century
  • Lviv
  • History of Ukraine
  • multiculturalism

The history of west Ukraine and of former Galicia is more complicated than that of the rest of Ukraine. Galicia has belonged to many different states and powers. After the founding of Lviv by Prince Danylo in 1256 the region belonged to Poland for 400 years and was subsequently ruled by the Habsburg monarchy for 146 years (1772–1918). After the First World War, the region became part of independent Poland, in 1939/1941 came the Soviet and National-Socialist invasions which were followed by five decades of incorporation in the USSR, until Ukraine became independent in 1991.

In the 1930s the tri-ethnic population of the city of Lemberg/Lwów consisted of 51 percent Poles, around one third Jews and 16 percent Ukrainians. After the extermination of the Jews and the expulsion of the Polish population Lviv stood 85 percent empty. The city was taken possession of by Russian/Soviet bureaucrats, the military, and Ukrainian peasants. The city’s past as the cradle of a Ukrainian national movement was only revealed after Ukraine became independent. Today, in contrast to the strongly russified eastern part of the country, the city of Lviv, which is also the centre of western Ukraine, has become a haven of Ukrainian identity. This has led to the rise of antagonistic historical narratives, disparate “national memories”, with irreconcilable versions of events, heroes and martyrs.

After 1991, in their search for a connecting narrative which would show a continuous and uninterrupted Ukrainian past, the local authorities in Lviv commemorated a number of people, renaming streets after them, erecting monuments and commemorative plaques to them or honouring them in public commemorations. Leading figures of Ukrainian literature such as the poet Taras Shevchenko and the writer and freedom fighter Ivan Franko had already been previously celebrated as the bearers of Ukrainian culture under the Soviet regime. The leader of the Cossack Uprising in the 17th century, Bohdan Khmelnytsky, had also been included in the pantheon of Soviet-Ukrainian remembrance, even though he had attacked the city, which was Polish at the time, and did not defend it. The celebration of famous historical personages such as the historian of Ukrainian history Mykhailo Hrushevskyi or Mykhailo Drahomanov aims at constructing a pan-Ukrainian identity. The city has additionally contributed to creating a local tradition based on the specific history of Galicia (Halychyna in Ukrainian). This construction rests on complex processes of reversal, positive revaluation, rehabilitation, but also on the concealment of historical events and processes.

A first characteristic of this policy is the re-envisioning and updating of the city’s history to the almost complete exclusion of the Polish, Jewish and Soviet/Russian part of the city’s history. Lviv’s historic centre is a jewel of renaissance architecture while much of its later architecture was strongly influenced by the Viennese and Cracow Secessionists. But there are almost no public inscriptions indicating this. Today, only a few traces of this past remain: Yiddish or Polish inscriptions sometimes reappear as the paint flakes away. Nowhere do the local authorities officially commemorate the murder of the 160,000 Jews by the Nazis or the deportation of more than 100,000 Poles in 1945/46. The monument to the victims of the ghetto in Lviv, erected in 1992, was privately financed.

Everything which recalled the Soviet presence in the city also had to disappear. Similar to what took place in Riga and other Baltic cities, many monuments to the Red Army were dismantled. Russian schools were closed. In one district, Pushkin Street and Lermontov Street had to yield to street names honouring members of the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) and of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA).

The second characteristic of this history policy is the creation of a Ukrainian national continuum in a city which only became ukrainised after 1945 and where there was practically no Ukrainian continuity. This invented continuity starts with Daniel, a 13th century Galician ruler, and stretches to include the Ukrainian pop singer Ihor Bilozir, who was beaten to death by Russians in 2000. In one leap the story progresses from the West Ukrainian People’s Republic, which was proclaimed in Lviv on November 9, 1918 and only existed for three months, to the “Act of Ukrainian Statehood” of June 30, 1941. With this Act the Ukrainian OUN nationalists Stepan Bandera and Yaroslav Stetsko, who had entered the city with the Wehrmacht, proclaimed an independent Ukrainian state but this independent Ukraine was only tolerated by Nazi Germany for a few days.

Ultranationalists, right-wing extremists and collaborators of the Nazis are being rehabilitated because they fought against the Russians. The Lviv Historical Museum has redesigned some of its rooms, titling them “Ukrainian efforts at liberation and independence”. In the suite of rooms, theorists and proponents of a radical fascist nationalism such as Dmytro Doncov, members of the Ukrainian Wehrmacht battalions Nachtigall and Roland and of the SS Division Galizien, which attracted almost 80,000 Ukrainians volunteers, are portrayed as heroes without any criticism or qualifications. Tributes are paid in particular to two personages of the OUN/UPA: Stepan Bandera, perceived in Poland primarily as a murderer, for whom a monumental memorial complex was erected next to the Church of St. Elisabeth in 2007, and Roman Shukhevych, the commander of the Nachtigall Battalion.

Changes to the names of the military units who collaborated with the Nazis are a new feature since 2006–2007, with the German names now yielding to Ukrainian denominations. Thus, the Wehrmacht Nachtigall Battalion now officiates as “DUN” (Druzhyna ukraïnskykh natsjonalistiv, Legion of Ukrainian Nationalists), and the SS Division Galizien as “U.D. Halytschyna” (Ukraïnska Divizja Halychyna) or “1st U.D. Halytschyna”. To this end, the death’s-heads, trimmings, mirrors, insignia and badges of the SS have been removed from the uniforms on display, trivializing the museum exhibits and playing down their connection to Nazi Germany.

The third characteristic of the politics of remembrance commemorating the city of Lviv is the invention of a new martyrdom. In the context of a “contest of victims” the aim is to find martyrs suitable to be placed on the altar of a national construction of memory. In Ukraine, this cult of victimization has taken the Great Famine (“Holodomor”) of the years 1932–1933 as its most important point of reference, and the government is currently endeavouring to obtain international recognition of the Holodomor as a “Ukrainian Holocaust”. In Lviv remembrance focuses particularly on the massacres carried out by the NKVD in the prisons of Lviv in the last days prior to the invasion of the city by the Germans in June 1941. The NKVD was given the order to either arrange for political prisoners to be transported to the interior of the USSR or to liquidate them. As the Germans rapidly advanced on the city, more than 4000 persons were shot in the prisons. Since 1991 such atrocities can once again be openly spoken of. The municipal authorities together with victims’ organisations have erected several monuments commemorating these tragic events. But none of these new monuments bear any references to the brutal pogrom openly perpetrated against the Jewish civilian population after the invasion by the Wehrmacht by a vengeful mob, the Ukrainian auxiliary police force and Ukrainian nationalists under the approving eyes of the Nazis.

The amalgamation of nationalist heroes and victims of Stalinism in a joint mausoleum amounts to a sanctification of Ukrainian suffering. The mausoleum was consecrated in Łyczaków/Lychakiv Cemetery in 2006. This new part of the cemetery was designed so as to tower above the Polish military cemetery of the First World War (Cmentarz Lwowskich Orląt), which it thus symbolically displaces. The memorial site also pays tribute to the Nachtigall Battalion and the SS Division Galizien (“1st U.D. Halychyna”). In 2006 the municipal authorities announced their intention of moving the remains of Stepan Bandera, Yevhen Konovalets, Andrij Melnyk and other leaders of the OUN/UPA and reburying them there.

Lviv has been seized by a remembrance mania – but only a selective politics of remembrance and musealisation is brought to bear on the past. The focus is only on the rebirth of the Ukrainian nation and on Ukrainian suffering. The city’s multicultural legacy is forgotten and suppressed.

How will Polish, German, American and Jewish tourists recognise themselves and their narratives in this landscape of monuments? How do such policies fit in with the hoped for integration of Ukraine in Europe? With this revisionist blanking out, will future generations of West Ukrainian pupils still realise that these “heroes” enlisted in the ranks of the Wehrmacht and the SS? Will questions once be asked as to what extent they collaborated in the “ethnic cleansing” of Poles and Jews? All serious questions in view of the problematic selective representations of history which have changed and shaped the museums, streets and monuments in Ukrainian Lviv since 1991.

 

translated from German by Helen Schoop


 

prof. Delphine Bechtel - deputy director of Centre Interdisciplinaire de Recherches Centre-Européennes, professor of Department of German Studies of University Paris IV - Sorbonne. The scope of her scientific interests encompasses among others: Yiddish literature and culture in Central and Eastern Europe, politics, culture and literary contacts between German and Jewish authors writing in Hebrew or Yiddish in Central and Eastern Europe (Russia, Poland), multi-cultural cities in Central and Eastern Europe.


 

Photo of the publication To whom does Auschwitz „belong?”
Piotr Cywiński

To whom does Auschwitz „belong?”

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Museum
  • Auschwitz
  • Birkenau
  • Places of Memory

What is Auschwitz today? This is a question that needs to be asked at the beginning in order to even enter into the topic of affiliation. Various concepts define the space of Auschwitz. Former inmates, who created this Place of Commemoration after Second World War, termed their blueprint by the word Museum. Then, a Monument was built in Birkenau in the 1960s, as if the ruins of this former Nazi death camp were not enough to commemorate it. Following that, the concept of the world’s biggest Cemetery emerged. Finally, the name the Place of Commemoration appeared. This term is a neologism that perhaps best reflects the inability to call a spade a spade.

Of all similar places in Europe, this one is included on the UNESCO World Heritage List. The entry indicated that this place is to be representative for all other sites of this type and that others will no longer be listed. I do not know what does the term “sites of this type” mean. Does this mean other Vernichtungslagern? Or the entire system of concentration camps? Is the GULAG Soviet system of camps included into this typology? In the provision “other sites of this type”, placed on this worldwide list, we encounter a legal interpretation of Auschwitz as the most broadly conceived heritage of man and mankind and thus, in a tangible way, we touch on the issue of affiliation.

This can be viewed on very different levels that do not exclude one another: historical, political, emphatic and also moral or task-oriented. A certain subjectivism, that is completely normal and natural in this place, develops in this complexity of levels. We cannot escape this subjectivism in this place, because people have the right to feel more or less linked to this place. Undoubtedly, various kinds of memories are crossing in Auschwitz today. The annihilation of the Jewish nation was one thing and the history of the concentration camp was another. We hope that there is no need to explain this difference today. One Jewish survivor remembers forty, fifty persons from his family who ended up there and did not survive. And among other victims, dozens of living persons remember this one cousin who died there as, for instance, a political prisoner. These are extremely different social situations.

The differences can also be political and ideological. For some, it will be primarily a place of education. There are communities for whom Auschwitz plays a very important identity role. In this case, I am thinking about the Jewish diasporas and to some extent also about Roma. In Poland, to a large extent, this constitutes an independence symbol, although it should also be remembered that Poland also has different interpretations of the Auschwitz history. As quite different is this place for the elites that were the majority of inmates in the first period. It was quite different for inhabitants of the Zamość region who were sent to Auschwitz to be exterminated. And Auschwitz was still quite a different place for residents of Warsaw after the fall of the Warsaw Uprising. Finally, Auschwitz was completely different for people from round-ups in street cars who did not at all know why they landed there, as they were not involved in any activity of the resistance movement. This place is, of course, a great experience for the Germans. Their presence there, often very helpful, creates profound interpersonal relations with this place. For Catholics, Christians, this is also a certain reference to the world of martyrdom and holiness that is manifested in this place and this also cannot be omitted .

Looking at Auschwitz from these various points of view, it is easy to understand why the 1990s, after the fall of communism, were years of such difficult conflicts. Suddenly, all these memories met in this place and began to notice each other. For this reason, I hope that today we have become wiser.

Among all affiliations, the most striking is the affiliation to those whose ashes are mixed with this soil. The memory and affiliation of the successors of victims are this first memory and this first affiliation, above all, of course of the world of Jews but also of Poles, Roma and prisoners of the Soviet Army.

Auschwitz is of course a symbol of the Holocaust, but also the largest former concentration camp. Thus, groups that visit Auschwitz today identify with this place as well as other stories that did not happen so often in this place as elsewhere. Priests died more often in the Dachau death camp, but they are remembered in this place. Women died in the Ravensbrueck camp. German homosexuals or Jehovas witnesses also in other camps—Dachau, Sahsenhausen, Oranienburg and Flossenburg. The disabled, who did not perish at all die in the camps, but often in the facilities attached to hospitals or in specially designed lorries by exhaust fumes are also remembered here.

And what can be said about Nazi criminals, on the other side of the barbed wires? In Auschwitz there were about 8,000 free people, SS and Gestapo members who worked there. Historians estimate that there were about 70,000 of them in the entire system of camps, out of which 1,600-1,700 were brought for court proceedings after Second World War. An overwhelming majority of them were sentenced to three or five years of imprisonment, often in suspension. This awareness should also be kept in mind and this raises a multi-faceted and profound question about affiliation to the place.

And since we are talking about the perpetrators, one very delicate problem remains. The victim and the prisoner of the camp could have had the experience of being the perpetrator at the same time, because the system was designed in such a way. A trusty, Blockaltester, a prison mate from a plank bed could at a certain moment be the perpetrator because he hit (his neighbor), stole a bread (from him), informed on (him), did not help. And here we touch the essence of humanity, something that each of us can encounter in our own life. This means that each of us is not only this impeccable human being but that we have different faces.

At the time of the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, there was a thesis that this Place of Commemoration is already passing into European history, that everything had already been said. But we can judge at least by attendance that people still continue to seek for answers. In the last five years, the number of visitors doubled annually. Last year, we achieved the highest number of visits since the end of Second World War. Quite suddenly, a few years ago, South Korea appeared in visitor statistics - today almost 40,000 visitors a year, which is almost as many as from France or Israel. South Korea represents a completely different world and a completely different history. Countries such as Manchuria, China, Japan and South Korea have their own dramas stemming from World War II. And yet, their nationals still feel the need and willingness to come visit this place. In the 1990s, Auschwitz was a symbol primarily for Europe, Israel and North America. Now, it is beginning to function as a truly world-wide symbol.

Attendance has two ends. There are also geographical, political and historical areas that do not feel connected to Auschwitz or do not want to manifest this. First of all, I would like to point to Austria as a problematic case. Three thousand visitors last year, as compared with 60,000 Germans or 56,000 Italians. If 3,000 visitors come from Austria and about 25,000 from the Czech Republic, this means that we are facing an educational and identity problem that has not been overcome and we must think about it jointly. I stress: together. There are hardly any visitors from Africa and Arabic countries.[1] This is a problem in the context of today’s challenges and the result of this neglect is the emergence of the new geography of the Holocaust denial. .

In the future, an important element will be the fact that in today’s Europe national determinant stops being the most important point of reference for one’s own identity. There are mixed groups that want to find their identity in this Place in a different way—as doctors, lawyers, priests.

There are also other determinants of subjective affiliation - particular care of maintaining the Place. For years, half of the budget of this Place has been contributed by the Polish government. The second half has been worked out by the museum and single percents have been coming from foreign assistance. And after all affiliation has been linked exactly with responsibility and thus it is primarily a moral problem.

In conclusion, I would like to discuss the question of participation. This is perhaps the most important question stemming from membership and responsibility. When one sees photos from the liberation of Auschwitz, it is necessary to think about reportages from Ruanda. And the question is not about these two events, but about our passivity. In the idea of social participation, a person is linked to what he or she co-creates, to what he or she builds, to that in what he or she engages in and to the goals he or she fulfills. Affiliation to this place or affiliation of this place to a concrete person would thus be reaching this goal which means never again. But meanwhile, millions of people visit this place and other places of this kind—Yad Vashem or the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. And these millions of persons sit later in front of TV sets, watch reports from Darfur and do not see any link. Living in free states, they criticize those who did nothing in Hitler’s times. Several weeks later, having returned home, they themselves do completely nothing as regards other tragedies of the world.

Also answering the question that I was asked, I would say that Auschwitz as a Place of Commemoration is, in a dramatic way, common, and in a dramatic way, nobody’s. Unfortunately, still.

[1] Data from 2011. In 2019, 2 million 320 thousand people from all over the world visited Auschwitz - at least 396,000 visitors from Poland, 200,000 from Great Britain, 120,000 from the USA, 104,000 from Italy, 73,000 from Germany, 70,000 from Spain, 67,000 from France, 59,000 from Israel, 42,000 from Ireland and 40,000 from Sweden. Source: Website of Auschwitz Museum

 


Piotr Cywinski (born in 1972) is a historian, director of the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, member of the International Auschwitz Council, Catholic activist, former chairman of the Club of Catholic Intelligentsia in Warsaw.


Photo of the publication The Year 1989 – The End of Communism in Poland
Antoni Dudek

The Year 1989 – The End of Communism in Poland

20 August 2011
Tags
  • 1989
  • Poland
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Solidarity Movement
  • End of Communism

The wave of strikes in the summer of 1980 and its consequence, the birth of NSZZ Solidarity started the deepest phase of the crisis of the communist state in Poland. The economic crisis, growing since 1976, had led to a destabilisation of the political system based on hegemonic position of the Polish United Workers' Party (PZPR) in 1980. The creation of NSZZ Solidarity and its over year long period of legal functioning significantly altered the social awareness, a change which could no longer be reversed by the so-called politics of normalisation, which began after the introducing of martial law in Poland in December 1981. The banning of Solidarity and the pacification of civil protests, which peaked on the 31st of August 1982 when demonstrations of supporters of the union took place in 66 cities, had not stopped the economic, social and political changes which put the People's Republic of Poland (PRL) in a state of chronic crisis and, after a change of the international situation, led to its downfall. Below I will try to enumerate the most important factors which, in my opinion, made the crisis grow and, in consequence, led to the breakdown of the system in 1989.

1. Changes in the USSR. This factor appeared last, only after the proclamation of the politics of perestroika by Mikhail Gorbachev in 1986 but has to be mentioned first as it played a crucial role in inclining the team of general Wojciech Jaruzelski to begin changes in the political system, which, eventually, led to its complete breakdown. In July 1986, during a meeting of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Gorbachev said, that the countries of Middle and Eastern Europe “can no longer be carried on our back. The main reason – the economy”. This meant that in the Kremlin opinion was prevalent, that the model of cooperation within the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, which was based on the transferable ruble, needed to be changed. The supply of petroleum and natural gas – the main export articles of the USSR – to the Comecon countries at set prices had no longer been profitable for the Soviet economy. It also was not a coincidence that one of Moscow's most important postulates after the government of Tadeusz Mazowiecki had been formed was the transition to USD as currency in mutual trade.

Although the knowledge remains limited regarding the plans of the Soviet leadership in the second half of the 1980s, Andrzej Paczkowski was probably right to say that “Gorbachev did something like an amputation on the Brezhnev >Doctrine<, which lost its ideological sense and became more of a geopolitical rule. The former pressure Moscow put on Warsaw subsided no later than 1987-1988 and was replaced by extensive conformity of intentions and actions”. General Wojciech Jaruzelski's team's hands were bound at that time as far as system reforms go, but that did not prevent it from using the Soviet deterrent in contacts with the West, the opposition and the Church until the end of its regime. French researcher Jacques Levesque even claims, that Jaruzelski for a long time was not using the freedom which Gorbachev had given him.

2. The state of the economy. Although in 1983 economic growth was recorded for the first time in five years, it had not been the result of real changes in the economic system, but of the return of the economy to the old ruts, from which it had been removed first by Gierek's team's mistakes, later by the strikes of 1980-81 and finally by the militarisation of many companies and the economic sanctions undertaken by the Western countries against Poland. Already in 1985 economic growth slowed down because, according to one of the party's analyses, “the material-resource barrier, […] resulting from insufficient national reserves and low import possibilities, became very apparent”.

Repeated by Jaruzelski's team after the introduction of martial law, declarations that the continuation of economic reforms, which officially began in 1981, is needed, quickly proved to be propaganda fiction. As general Jaruzelski correctly observed in 1982: “A paradoxical phenomenon accompanies the reform: on the one hand the liberalisation of the rules governing the economy and on the other the rigor of martial law”. The rigor of martial law had not been the main reason why the introduction of a real reform of the inefficient economic system of PRL was a failure, however. In fact the system could not be reformed, what was made clear by the unrelenting resistance of the people governing the economy. The situation is well illustrated by the example of closing down 106 unions of state-owned companies in 1982 in a reform which brought in their place 103 unions, different only in name. “Essentially there is no institutionalised force, which would comprehensibly introduce the reform into economic practice, there is no approach to the reform as a political-economic complex” - it was said in a lengthy analysis of the socio-political situation made in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and ordered by general Czesław Kiszczak in May 1984.

According to Władysław Baka, the government's representative for the reform, during the meetings of the Council of Ministers in July 1983 and June 1984 plans aiming to openly “thwart the reform” were forced. One of their main supporters was supposedly Deputy Prime Minister Zbigniew Messner, who argued that “brought to completion, the model of socio-economic reform outlined by minister Władysław Baka means in essence the change of socio-political system” i.e. the fall of socialism. The continuation of the reform was defended, according to Baka, by Jaruzelski, but he changed his mind a year later on a National Council in Poznań and supported Messner's limited option instead. After a couple of months, in November 1985, the latter became Prime Minister and the office of government's representative for the reform was removed. Real reforms had not begun until 1988-89 when Mieczysław Rakowski's cabinet introduced regulations guaranteeing freedom of economic activity and liberalising the rules of sales with foreign countries. If the political system had not followed, Rakowski's reforms could have lead to the realisation of the so-called Chinese model of transformation, that is the introduction of market economy with the maintaining of authoritarian political system.

3. Instances of state privatisation. Compared to the general economic decay of the 1980s, the rise of the private sector in the economy was a curious occurrence. In the years 1981-1985 it had increased its production level by nearly 14% while the production of the national sector decreased by 0,2%. Private enterprise was still highly limited, however, and many key members of the PZPR criticised the instances of “certain groups getting richer without grounds”. However, gradually, especially in mid-level state apparatus, belief was getting stronger that without development of the private sector the deficit on the market of consumer goods could not be satisfied.

The so-called Polonia (Polish diaspora) companies had a special position within the private sector. Foreigners of Polish descent were taking part in their establishment on the basis of the law from July 1982. “Polonia companies steal highly qualified cadre from the national sector. Some of the employees leave from foreign trade offices, they possess information which is a business and national secret. […] Cases of informal contacts with the employees of departments in charge of the Polonia companies are also frequent” - was the alert in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in May 1984.

The Polonia companies became a sort of a testing ground for the authorities and especially for the secret service (both the SB and military). The behaviour of entities functioning within market mechanisms was tested and used in operational activities. What followed was a gradual acquaintance of part of the government elite with the thought of a need for radical breaking off with the economic system based on national property, originating in the 1940s. In such a way a climate appropriate for the reforms of the Rakowski government was beginning to appear, with the side-effect of the process of so-called nomenclature enfranchisement.

4. Deregulation of the political system. Its main symptom became the weakening of the position of the PZPR, hitherto playing a hegemonic role in the political system of PRL. The crisis of the years 1980-1981 and the martial law left the PZPR with about 1 million members less. Only in the middle of the decade had the party stopped shrinking and the number of members stabilised at 2.1 million. The process of aging of the party had not been stopped however, and the proportion of people under 29 years of age decreased from the level of 15% in 1981 to only 6.9% in 1986, while the average age of a PZPR member raised to 46 years of age. A similar process began to threaten also the ranks of the party apparatus, over 12 thousand functionaries strong. Personnel review of the members of Central Committee of the Polish United Workers' Party from 1984 showed that in the years 1985-1986 as many as 23% of its employees would reach retirement age. At the same time only 6% of over six hundred political employees of the Central Committee were younger than 35 years of age.

The communist party was becoming old and was losing its influence, becoming less of a core of the political system and more of a tool of various pressure groups operating within the government apparatus. The most important of these groups was a part of the officers' corps of the Armed Forces. In the first year of martial law 32 officers were delegated to high positions in the party apparatus, and 88 more to national administration. Among them were 11 Ministers and Deputy Ministers, 13 voivodes and vice-voivodes and 9 secretaries of the Executive Committee of the Polish United Workers' Party. Furthermore 108 “lawyers in uniforms” were delegated to work in the prosecution service and civil judiciary.

Besides the military men the role of higher functionaries of the Security Service (SB) and other people working in the economy apparatus also increased in the 1980s. All of them were obviously members of the PZPR but in reality often opposed many decisions and solutions forced by the functionaries of the PZPR apparatus. The leaders of the All-Poland Alliance of Trade Unions (OPZZ) were also members of the communist party. The Alliance was supposed to replace Solidarity in public consciousness. For this to happen, the leaders of the PZPR had decided, that leaders of the OPZZ had to receive a much wider autonomy than all the other socio-political organisations were given before, including the allied parties United People's Party and the Democratic Party. “We must include different opposing elements from the party itself […] controlling us from our system positions, constantly stinging us in our bottoms” - said general Jaruzelski about OPZZ in December 1986. Still, OPZZ with nearly 7 million members, in time became a force, which, especially in the late 1980s, contributed significantly to the limiting of the level of control of the PZPR over state apparatus and especially over the part, which governed the economy.

5. Evolution of social moods. After the introducing of martial law, the social moods became relatively stable. In 1983 nearly 40% of pollees believed that the economic situation would become better, 8% that it would become worse and the rest, over 50%, thought that it would remain the same or did not have an opinion. This state of a kind of waiting began to change in the middle of the decade in a direction very unfavourable for the authorities. While in December 1985 46% of the pollees described the economic situation as bad, in the following months the figure grew quite consistently: 55% in April, 58.5% in December 1986 and as much as 69.1% in April 1987. In the following months it was becoming even worse and that significantly affected the consciousness of the elite of the authorities. A team of three general Jaruzelski's advisors, the Secretary of the Central Committee of the PZPR Stanisław Ciosek, Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs Władysław Pożoga and the government spokesperson Jerzy Urban wrote in a memorial in January 1988 this about the matter: “The moods are below the red line, which means the critical point of explosion has been passed. There is no explosion because the tendencies are suppressed in the society by various stabilisers (historic experience, mainly of the 13th of December 1981, the role of the Church, lower influence of the opposition, apathy)”. The assessment was that such a state affected the authorities in a bad way and part of the apparatus “as usual in decadent times, begins to question the leadership, plot intrigues, plan future personal configurations. In time it will begin to plot”. It was therefore proposed to “make a drastic turn, in which there would be few words, many actions”. Ultimately such a turn of action, in the form of the Round Table Talks, happened a year later.

According to Mirosława Marody “three types of experiences of the broadest social reach” were making the mood worse. The first was increasing inflation devaluing “life's work of individuals and their families”. The second was the “feeling of disproportion between the effort put into achieving and keeping a decent standard of living and its effects”. Its main source were the persistent problems with supplies (especially manufactured goods) and that created a stark contrast with not only the situation in the Western countries but also with often visited Soviet Bloc countries. The third experience generating social frustration according to Marody was “the belief that methods of action offered to the individuals by the system lead to nowhere”. This affected mainly the young and the broadly understood intelligentsia, most severely affected by the apathy increasing during the 1980s.

6. Church and political opposition activity. In the 1980s, in front of the eyes of the PRL's authorities, the Catholic Church turned from their main opponent into an important factor stabilising social mood. That is why, not abandoning various behind-the-stage actions aimed against the clergy, of which the kidnapping and killing of the priest Jerzy Popiełuszko by SB functionaries became a symbol, the leadership of the PZPR in practice accepted the unprecedented rise of the Church's potential which took place in the 1980s. It was apparent both in record-breaking number of new priests and temples built (according to government data in 1986 over three thousand churches were being built) as well as in quick development of Catholic press and publishing houses. In the middle of the decade there were 89 Catholic periodicals, with circulation of 1.5 million. Politics of the authorities regarding the founding of new churches and Clubs of Catholic Intellectuals had also been liberalised. Additionally, Church structures played a dominant role in the distribution of charity aid from the West, while its substantial amount constantly worried the authorities.

The authorities expected that the liberal course would bring gradual increased acceptance of the system by the clergy. But the double dealing of the Church hierarchy, calculated for parallel dialogue with the authorities and discreet support of the moderate part of the opposition, disoriented Jaruzelski's team. They knew that the support of the Church would be necessary to introduce the system reform plans maturing since the middle of the decade but they could not determine to what extent the bishops would be willing to endorse them, nor how far they identified themselves with the aims of the opposition.

Meanwhile, the opposition, despite its weakness apparent in the middle of the decade, became a constant factor generating resistance against the system. In late 1985 the Ministry of the Interior assessed that there were over 350 different opposition structures in Poland, over half of them active in the area of just 5 of the 49 then existing voivodeships: Warsaw, Wrocław, Gdańsk, Kraków and Łódź. According to the SB its hard core was 1.5 thousand people while over 10 thousand worked as distributors of newspapers, messengers and printers. The number of “active sympathisers” was estimated to be 22 thousand people, what would give in total “about 34 thousand people directly involved, to a larger or lesser extent, in illegal activity”. This opposition was divided into different groups opposing each other, but generally fitted into one of two categories, differing in their attitude to the PRL authorities. While the radical category, in which Fighting Solidarity created in 1982 by Kornel Morawiecki had the most potential, wanted to organise a general strike and overthrow the regime in a revolution, the moderate category, gathered around Lech Wałęsa and Temporary Coordinating Commission of Independent Self-governing Trade Union Solidarity assumed that the deteriorating economic situation and pressure from the West would finally force Jaruzelski's team to begin talks with the opposition. From the point of view of the authorities it was important for the moderate group to be stronger than the radical one and when, in 1988, the leadership of the PZPR finally decided to talk with Wałęsa and his collaborators, the opposition radicals turned out to be too weak to stop the Round Table Talks and later to boycott the contractual parliamentary elections in June 1989.

 


Prof. Antoni Dudek (born 1966) – political scientist, deals mainly with recent Polish political history. Member of the Council of the Institute of National Remembrance.


Photo of the publication The Year 1956 – A Watershed in Central European History
Attila Pók

The Year 1956 – A Watershed in Central European History

20 August 2011
Tags
  • 1956
  • communism
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Europe
  • End of Communism
  • Soviet Union

Years of destiny – watershed years in European and general history – are topics which not only greatly interest historians but are obviously also of great interest to politicians, educationalists and for the difficult to grasp but omnipresent culture of memory. The year 1956 is without doubt such a year, and various aspects of this fateful year are examined in brief statements below.

1. A direct trajectory from 1956 to 1991?

The basic problem of the collective memory of 1956 is the fact that in the years of political upheaval between 1989 and 1991, this date was considered a symbol of anti-Soviet, anti-communist resistance. In 1989, the years 1956 in Hungary and Poland, 1968 in Czechoslovakia, 1980–81 in Poland and the events in the GDR, the Baltic Soviet Republics, Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary and Yugoslavia were all perceived as part of a teleological process, as the prequel to the collapse of the USSR. The notion of an inevitable advance (from dictatorship to democracy, from a single-state party to a multi-party system, from a centralised managed economy to a liberal market economy) was doubtlessly inspiring for those involved. But after a brief time of euphoria the fundamental differences in the deep-seated changes which took place in these countries have become apparent, and these differences in their turn have minimised the experiences shared across borders and made it more difficult to come to a cross-border understanding of particular events.

For interpretations of the year 1956, the fundamental differences between Hungary and Poland are particularly relevant. In Poland the text of Khrushchev’s “Secret Speech”, delivered to the delegates of the 20th Party Congress of the CPSU, was officially circulated and played an inspirational role for the process of de-Stalinisation. In the autumn of 1956, the reform communist Władysław Gomułka, who had been released after a three-year stint of imprisonment, was extremely popular. Although Polish society was quickly disappointed in him, in 1956–57 Gomułka was able to present himself as the saviour of the national interest at a time when the Soviet Union stood poised to invade Poland. In contrast, the Hungarian Prime Minister Imre Nágy was unable to influence the train of events in any profound way; his heroic image is not primarily associated with his actions during the revolutionary year of 1956 but with his martyr’s death. Had he and others not been executed, they would never have become the symbols of the will to freedom of a small Central European nation existing within the Soviet hegemonic sphere.

2. Patriotism and communism

A second basic problem touches on the relationship between patriotism and communism. Can a communist behave patriotically? Or is a patriot by definition not a communist? György Litván differentiates between two left-wing (reform socialist and national democratic) and two right-wing (national conservative and radical right) camps, both of which mistrusted the Soviet Union and demanded the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Hungary as quickly as possible. During this brief magic moment of Hungarian history, communists and anti-communists alike – notwithstanding all internal political dissensions – shared a common criticism of Soviet imperialism. In the struggle for the memorialisation of 1956, many anti-communists attempt to portray all communists as serving only Soviet interests, whilst one group of Polish and Hungarian communists regards 1956 as a nationalist reform-communist attempt to preserve the true values of socialism freed from Stalinist despotism. As part of the same struggle for interpretive dominance, yet another group of Hungarian communists refers to 1956 as a “counterrevolution” which aimed to restore the ultraconservative regime of the years 1919–1944. In the official Hungarian account up until 1989 the talk was of a civil war barely averted with the help of Soviet troops.

After 1972 Janos Kádár attempted to replace the term “counterrevolution” with “national tragedy”, however the former term remained part of the party’s official language up until January 18, 1989. On that day, for the first time Imre Pozsgay speaking in the Politburo referred to 1956 as a justifiable national uprising. What made this comment all the more significant was that this categorisation of 1956 as harking back to positive Hungarian traditions became the nucleus of a “counter-memory” and subsequently contributed to the historical de-legitimisation of the Kádár regime. At the same time this fundamental re-evaluation of 1956 with its reworking of the politics of remembrance paved the way for negotiations between the representatives of oppositional groups and the country’s rulers. This resulted in a number of symbolic events: Imre Nágy, who had been executed on June 16, 1958, was solemnly reburied together with other victims on June 16, 1989. On October 23, 1989, the 33rd anniversary of the start of the revolution, the “People’s Republic” of Hungary was proclaimed a republic, thus aligning with Hungary’s democratic traditions. Many years later, when Imre Mécs, who represented the opposition in the talks, was asked who had made negotiations possible and who had chosen the participants, his answer was brief and unambiguous: the masses thronging Heroes’ Square in Budapest on June 16, 1989.

3. 1956 and the reputation of the Soviet Union

The third problem has to do with the role of 1956 as it affected the international political reputation of the Soviet Union. Viewed from the perspective of 1989, the year 1956 is often considered as marking the beginning of the end of the Soviet Union, and reference is made to the chain of events extending from Czechoslovakia in 1968 and Poland in 1980 up until the dissolution of the Soviet Union on December 25, 1991. However, the historical importance of this year also had an impact on the developing world. The conduct of the great powers Britain, France, the Soviet Union and the United States during the various crises which erupted in 1956 (Poland, Hungary, Suez) was decisive for their positions as colonial powers or global players. The support provided to the developing nation Egypt against the imperialism of the British and French increased the Soviet Union’s credibility and not only among “Third World” countries.

The USA did no do much to support the liberation of “captive nations”; the containment of communist expansion was the only thing they took seriously. The Soviet Union portrayed itself, not without some success, as the friend of anti-colonial countries, primarily in Africa. Up until the end of the 1960s, approximately 31 African states gained their independence, a process which boosted the Soviet Union’s global reputation, while its image as the oppressor responsible for suppressing the Hungarian struggle for freedom faded. Decolonisation was one of the frontlines of the Cold War where change was possible, but there was no question of that occurring in the Central European Soviet sphere at the time.

4. 1956 as a cultural watershed

The year 1956 represents a cultural watershed. In contrast to the political arena, the “thaw” in Central and Eastern Europe led to a general decrease in Soviet control in the cultural sphere. The brutal repression of the Hungarian revolution did much damage to communist and social-democratic parties in Western Europe. What is less well known is the disappointment with the United States as a potential supporter of “captive nations”. For the so-called generation of ’68 this disappointment led among other things to a re-evaluation of the term “the West” in favour of a more cultural connotation. The experiences of 1956 showed that in the politically bipolar world and without the chance of achieving fundamental political change, culture can create a bridge despite strongly guarded borders.

For the generation in Central Europe who grew up after 1956, the West stood less for IBM, de Gaulle, or Kennedy than for Hemingway, Sartre, and Pasolini, and even Brigitte Bardot, and Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. Those who kept the cultural bridges open between East and West included Shostakovich, Wajda, Gombrowicz, Örkény, Heym or Kundera – to name only a few well-known cultural figures. After the thaw, a return to the previous stand-off or even to models of “socialist realism” was no longer simply possible.

5. Conclusions

The year 1956 represented a watershed for all societies in the Soviet bloc: the impact of the events in Poland and Hungary spread through the countries in Central Europe, encouraging opposition. The memory of 1956 showed that changes and modifications to the Soviet system were possible even at the very heart of power, whilst any attempt at violent liberation from Soviet hegemony in the satellite nations would inescapably lead to the use of force. Thus, the bipolarity of the world was enforced politically, but not culturally, within the respective spheres of interest of the two super powers. The memory of 1956 had little influence on the programmes put forward by the reform and protest movements during the “Prague Spring” or by Solidarność; rather they served as a warning against the comprehensive claim to power of the Moscow leadership and their local satellite rulers. 1956 was without doubt a watershed which stretched beyond Central Europe, but it is of only limited use when constructing a collective European memory: the events in East and West were too variegated and the experiences too different.

 

translated from German by Helen Schoop

 


Prof. Attila Pók - Member of the Presidium of Hungarian Academy of Sciences and deputy to the director of the Institute of History of Hungarian Academy of Sciences. From 1996 to2008 he was the deputy to the President of Historical Committee of Hungarian Academy of Sciences. He is a member of the Faculty of the Institute of European Studies and visiting Professor of History at Columbia University in New York.

Photo of the publication The Ukrainian Famine of 1932-1933
Stanisław Kulczycki

The Ukrainian Famine of 1932-1933

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Famine
  • Ukraine in 20th century

In the first half of 1933 great famine (Holodomor) broke out in Ukraine. People were dying by the millions. Hundreds of villages and thousands of farmsteads were wiped off the face of the Earth. The dead were buried in cemeteries, wastelands, very often in allotment gardens. They were also thrown into wells, which were then filled up. Long ditches were dug in the gorges and corpses were heaped there.

 

It was not allowed to write or talk of the famine. And it obviously was not allowed to erect monuments on the graves of the people killed by the famine. The first cenotaphs were raised in 1983 across the globe, in Edmonton and Winnipeg. In May 1986 a monument of the victims of the Holodomor was unveiled in downtown Los Angeles and in 1993 in Chicago. The United States Congress allotted plot in Washington D.C. for a monument to commemorate the Ukrainians who died because of the famine. The monument will be unveiled in the Fall of 2008 on the 75th anniversary of this tragedy of the Ukrainian nation.

In Ukraine monuments in the places of burial of the famine victims started to appear in the Fall of 1989. One of the first to be unveiled was the memorial to the victims of Stalinist terror in Pankowce village in Starosinyavskiy Raion in Khmelnytskiy Oblast. For many years the work involved with localising the famine victims and the raising of monuments or memorial signs was done by social organizations, mainly by the Association of Famine-Genocide of the years 1932-1933 in Ukraine (established in July 1992). In the recent period the work is supervised by the Secretariat of the President of Ukraine. All places of burial of the victims should be found before the 75th anniversary of the Holodomor. Work on identifying the dead began in all oblasts.

What happened in Ukraine in the years 1932-1933 then? Why was it impossible to talk about it until December 1987? It is then that the Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine, Volodymyr Shcherbytsky, was forced to confirm through clamped teeth that there was a famine, one caused by a natural element – drought.

Historians have no trouble proving the intention of the authorities to use terror famine and noticing its results. It is much harder to prove why Stalin had this intention. No documents can attest to that because the leader had no obligation to explain his motives to his subordinates. Nevertheless, when there is no clear document, historians should find fragments of indirect evidence, which together would form a motive.

In 1988 a United States congressional committee, overseen by Executive Director John Meys, recognized Ukrainian famine of 1932-1933 as genocide. As a result, on the request of an Ukrainian diaspora organization, an international committee consisting of world class lawyers, led by George Sandberg, was formed. It examined the evidence and supported this decision by a majority of votes. Both committees based their decisions mainly on testimonies of emigrants.

Today we also need eyewitness testimonies. The main terror famine action, which was the confiscation of food during constant searches of individual farmsteads, was conducted in January 1933 based on oral orders on all levels of government, from the Kremlin to a single village. All other technological elements of this form of reprisal are documented. The effects of this Stalinist action, described in countless documents, are also well known.

Documented terror technology consisted of:

- irregular introduction of the “black plank” regime in the first stage of the terror (November-December 1932);

- constant searches of peasant homesteads for hidden grain, sometimes with penalties in kind, confiscation of meat and potatoes (November-December 1932);

- confiscation of all kinds of food during the searches of homesteads (January 1933);

- propaganda action aimed to stir up hate of starving townspeople towards “kulaks-saboteurs”;

- blockade of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic and the Kuban region of North Caucasian Country;

- ban of the term “famine” even in documents labelled top-secret.

Famine terror took place in a situation of socio-economic crisis and the crisis itself had been a result of economic politics. Defining his politics from 1929 to January 1933 Stalin himself found a clear term for it – “rushing”[1]. In industry this politics meant setting unfeasible growth speed, with reprisals of the ones who lagged behind. In the countryside “rushing” took the form of confiscation of crops. Compulsory deliveries of grain were stopped only next Spring and then the state would help the peasants with widely advertised loans for seeds and food. The “general line of socialist industrialization” was accompanied by increased number of deaths of starvation among peasants whose grain was taken and among townspeople, who were given less bread or were left with no central food provision at all.

In the West an influential movement has emerged, consisting of the so-called “revisionists”, that is researchers who want to clear the USSR history of biased opinions from the Cold War period. In particular they object to calling the Ukrainian famine of 1932-1933 genocide, which is established in historiography thanks to the works of R. Conquest and G. Meys. In unison with them, Russian scholars claim that the grain was sacrificed to a “holy cause” - the industrialization. They claim that without the “rushing” the USSR would not have been able to withstand the attack of Nazi Germany.

Let us leave to the future generations the answer to the question, whether the death of hundreds of thousands of people in various regions of the USSR, including Ukraine, as a result of compulsory deliveries of grain and selling it abroad, can be considered genocide. We are talking of something different here, of extermination of millions of people organized by the Kremlin under the guise of compulsory deliveries and not in their result. Until the last months of 1932 people in Ukraine, and in other regions, were dying because they were deprived of grain. In November 1932 they started dying because they were deprived of all other food.

Our opponents usually give three arguments which disprove, as they believe, the thesis that Holodomor was a genocide. Firstly, people of all nationalities were dying of starvation in the Ukrainian countryside. Secondly, the Ukrainians were not persecuted because of their nationality. Thirdly, can famine be called genocide when Soviet authorities organized help on a large scale for the people of the Ukrainian SSR and Kuban in 1933?

The argument that people of different nationalities were dying in the Ukrainian countryside is not convincing. It does not answer the question why the number of famine victims in Ukraine and Kuban in 1933 was larger by an order of magnitude than in other regions of the European part of the USSR. The answer is simple: terror was aimed against rural areas of Ukraine in which not only Ukrainians lived. The fact that people of many nationalities were dying is understandable. Terror famine could not be targeted at specific people – it hit in a large area.

Other arguments have to be taken into consideration. Let us first focus on the thesis that the Ukrainians were not persecuted because of their nationality. In the United States congressional committee investigating the Holodomor witnesses were asked the same question: why was Stalin exterminating you? Because we are Ukrainian, they answered. How else could the peasants answer? This was the belief which became prevalent in the Ukrainian diaspora and which also became popular in Ukraine after 1991.

And who was Stalin really exterminating? American researcher of Ukrainian national communism, G. Meys, was the first scholar to say that Stalinist terror in Ukraine was targeted not against people of a certain nationality or a professional group but against the citizens of the Ukrainian State created in the period of the fall of the Russian Empire, which survived its own destruction and was revived as a Soviet state. The idea that Ukrainians were to be destroyed as a political factor and as a social organism and not an ethnic group was presented in Meys' report during the first scientific conference dedicated to the Holodomor organized in Montreal in 1983.[2]

Our opponents say that it is impossible to reconcile the organization of famine-genocide with large scale food-aid for the starving. The fact that such aid was given is unquestionable. Robert Davies and Stefen Wheatcroft published a monograph in 2004, in which they enumerate 35 party-government resolutions regarding giving food-aid to the starving regions of the USSR. The first one is dated February 7 and the last one July 20, 1933. Total aid was 320 thousand tonnes of grain of which 264.7 thousand tonnes were directed to Ukrainian SSR and to Kuban, and 55.3 thousand tonnes to all other regions together[3].

These numbers convinced R. Conquest that the thesis of famine-genocide is incorrect. Davies and Wheatcroft emphasise in an annotation on the jacket of their book, that their line of reasoning “differs from the earlier opinions of numerous historians, including R. Conquest”. Conquest acquainted himself with the book when it was still only in manuscript and his verdict is also located on the jacket, next to the annotation of the authors: “It is indeed an extraordinary contribution to research on such an important problem”. In the book the authors cited a fragment of his letter written in September 2003, after reading the manuscript. In this letter Conquest stated, that Stalin did not organize the famine in 1933 on purpose, although he did nothing to prevent the tragedy[4].

Aid for the starving was advertised as care of the party for the people who were in trouble of their own fault. The technology of terror famine is already known. There is only one thing to add, state aid for the starving peasants. Then, and only then, this form of reprisal might be a deliberate action of the Kremlin!

Indeed, can one imagine that Soviet authorities were constantly hunting a man only because he was Ukrainian? It is also impossible to think that the authorities would kill a man just because he was a peasant. Only one conclusion is possible: the Holodomor occurred as a result of specific circumstances.

During the first communist assault in the years 1918-1920 the Bolsheviks managed to build the basics of command economy. In 1929 Stalin began a new assault. He wanted to realize what Lenin did not manage to: drive dozens of millions of small commodity goods producers into communes. As a result, in the early 1930 a colossal social outburst began to develop. Stalin was forced to give up the communes and restrict himself to artels, that is he allowed the peasants to have allotment gardens. Thinking that the kolkhozniks would make do with the crops from their allotment gardens he began taking practically all of the grain from the countryside. Peasants had no right to get any grain until they carried out the plan of compulsory deliveries, which were, in practice, unlimited. Grain found after the end of the purchase was considered hidden from record or stolen. Peasants did not want to work in the kolkhozes without pay and the state accused them of sabotage. Crisis of the kolkhoz system threatened to bring down the entire economy. In January 1933 the government was forced to change unlimited compulsory deliveries into flat-rate state purchase of grain on the conditions of a tax. This meant, that the state finally recognized the property right of kolkhozes and kolkhozniks to the farm produce. The new law changed the relations between the town and the countryside as radically as the decree introducing the tax in kind in Match 1921. The kolkhozes were shaped into what the living generations remember.

Our colleagues in the West understand the socio-economic causes of famine of 1932-1933 in the USSR, though not all of them, as we have already presented, understand the Stalinist politics of “rushing”. Most of them, however, underestimate the other side of the problem – the national one. For them a starving Ukrainian peasant is just a peasant and not a citizen of the Ukrainian Soviet state. They understand the Soviet Union as a union of lawless republics created by the so-called titular nation. But the USSR became such an entity only after the famine of 1932-1933 and the terror of 1937-1938. Before that the Soviet Union was a union of states.

Richard Pipes, recognized as an expert in Russian history, claims, that national Soviet statehood was a fiction since the very beginning, since a dictatorship with its centre in Moscow was hidden beneath it[5]. One must agree with this statement, but should not limit oneself to it. Within the scope of such an opinion of the Soviet authorities we will be able understand neither the Holodomor, nor the confrontation, destructive for the USSR, of B. Yeltsin and M. Gorbachev in Moscow.

When the sick Lenin was faced with the fact of the creation of a common state by way of “autonomization” of national republics, he introduced fundamental corrections to the constitutional structure. A union of states was created into which entered, “together and on equal terms”, the Russian Federation and all the other independent republics. It was emphasized in the constitutions of the union republics and in the all-union constitution that every republic has a right to leave the Soviet Union (of course the procedure was not given). In such a way Lenin managed to outsmart history and maintain the essential part of the shattered pre-revolution empire in a new Soviet shell.

Soviet statehood is a difficult term both in the original, Russian, sense and in the secondary, national one. Ancillary to the dictatorship of Kremlin leaders, the Soviets had real executive power. Thanks to this power the party of the Bolsheviks was turning into a state structure.

The dual structure of power has to be considered Lenin's ingenious invention. But even it was not safe for the centre, which should be called the Kremlin and not Moscow. Moscow is the capital of Russia, the republic with the most rights. Bolshevik leaders changed the all-Russian Central Committee of the Russian Communist Party into an all-union organ. Although Russia remained the state-building republic, the all-union centre did not aim to identify with it (the constitutional structure of the USSR prevented that) nor to create in Moscow a rival centre of Russian power. The rule “together and on equal terms” which applied when formally independent republics joined the USSR was rejected in the years 1990-1991 as a result of the confrontation between M. S. Gorbachev and B. N. Yeltsin.

What was the danger in the dual structure of power during the transition from Soviet statehood on the Kremlin to national statehood? The danger was both of a primary and secondary character. The secondary danger concerned the actions of various political activists who did not share some of the opinions of the centre or who could, already during the course of action, oppose it. That is why the entire Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine perished in the heat of the reprisals, dozens of thousands of the employees of the apparatus and representatives of national intelligentsia.

The primary danger that explained the reprisals lurked in the very same privileges of the structure of power that the Kremlin secured for itself. In the hands of the Soviets, obviously including the national Soviets, real executive power was focused, which gave the party the nature of a state structure. As long as this power was wielded directly by the Kremlin there was no danger of collapse of the Soviet Union. But if such control seeped by itself into local party structures (in the case of a crisis of central government) the danger of a collapse was becoming real. The greatest threat, according to the Kremlin, was Ukraine – a republic with long-lasting tradition of national (not Soviet!) statehood. This republic neighboured Europe and as far as economic potential was concerned (including workforce) it matched all the other national republics put together.

After the creation of the USSR the Kremlin began developing a campaign of entrenching Soviet control in the non-Russian environment in the national republics. In Ukraine this campaign of entrenching quickly left the framework of a purely bureaucratic undertaking and became a tool for a national revival. After the census of 1926 the Ukrainian leadership insistently applied to the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party to incorporate into the republic the neighbouring areas of the Russian Federation, including the Kuban Oblast, where Ukrainians were the majority of the population. These efforts were fruitless. The leadership of the Ukrainian SRR managed, however, to get the permission of the Kremlin to Ukrainize the areas beyond the borders of the republic, where the Ukrainians were the majority of the population,. Shortly, in Kuban Ukrainian language was introduced to administrative offices, schools and mass media. The Kremlin watched theses successes with growing concern. Fully Ukrainized Kuban would have to be incorporated into the Ukrainian SRR and that would increase the already dangerously large Ukrainian workforce in the USSR.

After everything that has been said it is only left to present the proof why the decision made by the Kremlin to confiscate food stock in the Ukrainian countryside in January 1933 was possible. The evidence concerns August 1932.

Historians properly assessed Stalin's habit of resting for a couple of months each year in the resorts of North Caucasus. “Tending the property” in the Kremlin were L. M. Kaganovich (party line) and W. M. Molotov (Soviet line). Taking the highest precautions of secrecy Stalin had to contact them by sending handwritten letters via special agents of State Political Directorate (GPU). When Stalin was in the Kremlin the contact was oral and there were no traces of it left in the documentation of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Russian Communist Party. This circumstance clearly marks the boundaries between the institutional and personal responsibility for everything that happened in the country. It is clear what can be blamed on the higher collective organ of state party, the Chekists and the whole Politburo of the Central Committee, and what Stalin himself and his closest assistants from these years, L. M. Kaganovich, W. M. Molotov and P. P. Postyshev, can be accused of.

Editor-in-chief of the book “The Stalin-Kaganovich Correspondence, 1931-36” O. W. Khlevniuk noticed the following rule: even in secret correspondence Stalin was constructing, for himself and for his people, an unreal view of events, allowing the highest authorities to keep “political face”[6]. In a letter to Kaganovich dated August 11, 1932 he was unusually frank, however, because he wanted to make him the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine. Kaganovich was in the middle of a staff combination and that is why he should know its essence and the nature of the urgent matters in Ukraine he would be responsible for.

The essence of Stalin's letter dated August 11, 1932 is contained in two paragraphs:

“The most important now is Ukraine. The matters in Ukraine are going badly. Badly on the party line. They say that in two Ukrainian oblasts (Kiev and Dnitropetrovsk, I believe) about 50 regional committees opposed the idea of compulsory deliveries of grain calling them unrealistic. In other regional committees the matters, they say, are not much better. How could it be so? This is not a party but a parliament, a caricature of a parliament. Instead of managing the regions Kosior was manoeuvring between the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party directives and the requests of regional committees and manoeuvred himself into a hopeless position. Badly on the Soviet line. Chubar is no leader. Badly on the GPU line. Redens (Stanislav Redens, GPU head in the Ukrainian SSR until January 1933) can not handle the fight against the counter-revolution in such a large and special republic as Ukraine.

If we do not attempt to repair the situation in Ukraine now, we may lose it. Remember that Piłsudski is not asleep and his agents are much stronger than Redens or Kosior believe. Remember also that in the Communist Party of Ukraine (50 thousand members, ha-ha) there is no lack (yes no lack!) of rotten element, conscious and unconscious Petlurans and finally – Piłsudski's agents. As soon as matters go to worse this element will not hesitate to open a front inside (and outside) the party, against the party. The worst part is that the Ukrainian top brass does not see these dangers. It can no longer be so”[7].

If we examine the situation in the USSR in the second half of 1932 based on Soviet newspapers we will find only reports of successful completion of new constructions of the first Five-Year Plan. The GPU reports to which Stalin refers to in his letter to Kaganovich show a different view – gloomy and ominous. The town was starving, the countryside was starving. Communist-party Soviet apparatus was completely confused or openly rebelled. Dissatisfaction with the actions of the authorities was growing among the rank and file party members.

A crisis that took place 1.5 year before the events described should also be mentioned. In early March 1930 Stalin stopped the collectivisation because of peasant outbreaks. Canadian historian Lynne Viola ascertained that the well-known article titled “Dizzy with Success” was published because of the outbreaks in Ukraine and North Caucasus, which in terms of the number of participants, were well ahead all other regions of the USSR put together[8]. Only one thing should be added to what she wrote: Stalin was especially frightened by outbreaks in the border regions of the Ukrainian SSR at that time. He understood that Ukraine is not just a region like the others but also a republic of high status, one neighbouring with Europe. He expressed that in his letter to Kaganovich from August 11, 1932. After enumerating the undertakings which could lead to a breakthrough in Ukraine he ends thus: “Without these and other similar measures (economic and political strengthening of Ukraine, first the border regions etc.) I repeat – we may lose Ukraine”[9].

The second half of 1932 became, therefore, a moment in which two crises met and compounded – in the socio-economic and the national politics of the Kremlin. According to the documents Stalin was most afraid of a social outbreak in starving Ukraine. Reprisals, which soon began, were aimed at once against Ukrainian peasantry (terror famine) and Ukrainian intelligentsia (individual terror on a mass scale, purges in the cells of the communist party). Severe reprisals were directed not against people of a certain nationality but against the citizens of the Ukrainian State. And it is obvious they were Ukrainian. The point is, that citizens of Ukraine, even Ukraine in the humble guise of a Soviet republic, by their very existence were a threat to the Kremlin criminals who took control of the party and the new empire they created.

When we say, that the state made Ukrainian peasants completely dependant on it by confiscating their food supplies, they demand: show us a document! There is no document, there is no genocide. People who survived the Holodomor say that special brigades were conducting searches in peasants' farmsteads and taking all the food. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of testimonies from different villages create a consistent image. If it is so, the only correct conclusion needs to be drawn: those who were conducting the searches were doing so by order, even when it was not written on paper. But they demand a document...

Well, we can present a written document, but only in a proper context. The story has to begin with the “five ears of corn” law, which was supposed to prevent “waste” of crops.

“Meeting the demands of workers and kolkhozniks” (as it is written in the preamble) the Central Executive Committee and the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR on August 7, 1932 passed a resolution “On the protection of property of State enterprises, kolkhozes and cooperatives, and the consolidation of socialist property”. For theft of property execution by firing squad was proposed and “in case of mitigating circumstances” imprisonment for a period not less than 10 years[10].

In November 1932 Stalin was delegating special commissions for compulsory deliveries of grain overseen by: W. M. Molotov – to Ukrainian SRR, L. M. Kaganovich – to Kuban. According to the instructions he received, Molotov prepared the text of two resolutions of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine dated November 18 and of the Council of People's Commissars of the Ukrainian SSR dated November 20, identically named “On measures to strengthen state grain procurements” (final text was signed by Stalin). It included ominous items about punishing the “debtors” in kind – taking the meat and potatoes[11]. Taking advantage of the situation created by terrorist actions of these commissions the Politburo of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party defined the Ukrainization of North Caucasus as “Petlurian”. In a resolution of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party and the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR dated December 14, 1932 it was demanded to “in North Caucasus immediately start using Russian instead of Ukrainian in all Soviet documentation, cooperative organs of the “Ukrainized” regions and in all newspapers and magazines, as Russian would be easier to understand for the population of Kuban, and to prepare the schools to change the language of instruction into Russian before Fall”[12]. In December 1932 the peasants' homesteads were constantly searched for grain. Both the ones being searched and the ones doing the searches got used to it. The searches were led by chekists and conducted by starving members of committees of indigent peasants (they received a certain percentage of the found grain) and by workers sent from towns. Just like the year before in compulsory deliveries the countryside was deprived of almost all of the grain even before the searches.

On January 1, 1933 Stalin sent a telegram to Kharkov requesting deliveries of grain and proposed to the Central Committee of the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine and the Council of People's Commissars of the Ukrainian SSR to “spread the information through rural councils, kolkhozes, kolkhozniks and individual workers, that:

a) all who will of their own accord give back to the state the grain previously stolen and hidden need not be afraid of reprisal;

b) kolkhozniks, kolkhozes and individual workers who insist on hiding the grain stolen and concealed from record will be punished in the most severe ways according to the resolution of the Central Executive Committee and the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR dated August 7, 1932.”[13]

The telegram, which consisted of the two items quoted above, seems odd. Stalin never addressed the peasants of any union republic with threats. Furthermore, he knew that there was no grain in Ukraine, because the searches conducted by the chekists gave meagre results. The sense of the document is clear, however, if we confront the two items. The second one is addressed to the ones who ignored the demand stated in the first one, that is the ones who did not give the grain away. And how could one ascertain who did not give the grain away? Only by conducting searches! Stalin's telegram was, therefore, a signal to continue the searches.

The people, who survived the Holodomor were saying that during the searches not only potatoes and meat with pork fat was taken from them, as the resolution about the penalty in kind stated, but all foodstuffs. The telegram, therefore, leaves no doubt as to the identity of the man who gave the signal to begin the reprisal action of confiscating food, the organiser of terror famine.

Stalin's actions need to be analysed together. On a joint meeting of the Politburo of the Central Committee and the Presidium of the Central Control Commission of the All-Union Communist Party on November 27, 1932 he connected the failure of compulsory deliveries of grain not with the politics of issues (which he gave up in January 1933, transferring relations between the state and the kolkhozes to the tax system) but with harmful activity and sabotage in kolkhozes and sovkhozes. “It would be unwise – said the General Secretary – if the communists, assuming that the kolkhozes are the socialist form of management, did not answer with a crushing blow to the attack of these separate kolkhozniks and kolkhozes”[14].

The original reason of the terrorist actions was the striving of the Stalinist group to shift the responsibility for the economic collapse in “socialist construction”, which led to famine in the whole country, off themselves. The “crushing blow” was aimed against the republic, which could use the catastrophic results of “rushing” the economy to leave the USSR. Stalin was afraid that the top brass of the Ukrainian SSR could use the social outburst, maturing among the peasants who were starving for two years in a row. The depriving of all the food was an effective way of thwarting the rebellious potential of the Ukrainian countryside.

Stalin did not restrict himself to confiscation of food. On January 22, 1933 he wrote, by his own hand (the manuscript survived) the directive of the Central Executive Committee of the All-Union Communist Party and the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR beginning with the words: “Information has reached the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party and the Sovnarkom, that peasants are leaving Kuban and Ukraine in search for food and going to Central Black Earth Region, to Volga, to Moscow Oblast, Western Oblast, Belarus”. The Kremlin demanded a blockade of the Ukrainian SSR and Kuban from the leadership of the neighbouring regions[15].

The people who survived the Holodomor were convinced that the government was exterminating people because of their ethnicity. Reality was more complex: the government was at the same time exterminating and saving the Ukrainian peasants. Pavel Postyshev, who arrived in Ukraine in the end of January 1933 with dictatorial letters of authority, had two tasks: to organize the Spring sowing and to liquidate the “nationalistic aberration” in the party and the Soviet apparatus. In February he delivered the grain supply of the Ukrainian SSR to feed the starving. He was helping only those who could work. That is how peasants were taught to work in a kolkhoz. At the same time Postyshev attacked the Communist Party (Bolshevik) of Ukraine and the nonparty intelligentsia. 74 849 people were arrested by the chekists in 1932 and 124 463 in 1933[16]. Following the Holodomor and mass reprisals of 1937-1938 the republic lost its rebellious potential (with the exception of Western oblasts, which were incorporated into the USSR in 1939).

The politicians who threw Ukraine into the spiral of terrifying reprisals are no more. The totalitarian state, the leadership of which was responsible for the Holodomor, also no longer exists. We expect the international community to recognize this crime as genocide. Above all we expect that from the Russian Federation, which also lost millions of human lives in the years of Stalin's rule.

 


[1] Сталин И. Сочинения. – vol. 13. – p.183-184.

[2] Famine in Ukraine 1932–1933. – Edmonton, 1986. – p.12.

[3] Davies R.W., Wheatcroft Stephen G. The Years of Hunger. Soviet Agriculture, 1931–1933. – Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. – p 481-484.

[4] Ibidem, p. 441.

[5] Пайпс Ричард. Россия при большевиках. – М., 1997. – p.184.

[6] Сталин и Каганович. Переписка. 1931–1936 гг. – М., 2001. – p.18.

[7] Ibidem, p. 273-274.

[8] Lynne Viola. Peasant rebels under Stalin. – New York, Oxford, 1996. – p. 138-140.

[9] Сталин и Каганович. Переписка. 1931–1936 гг. – p. 274.

[10] Ibidem, vol. 3, p. 453-454.

[11] Голод 1932–1933 років на Україні: очима істориків, мовою документів. – К., 1990. – p.254; Колективізація і голод на Україні. 1929–1933. – К., 1992. – p.549.

>[12] Ibidem, p. 293-294.

[13] Голод 1932–1933 років на Україні: очима істориків, мовою документів. – p. 308.

[14] Трагедия советской деревни. – vol. 3. – p.559.

[15] Ibidem, pp. 32, 635.

[16] Нікольський В.М. Репресивна діяльність органів державної безпеки СРСР в Україні (кінець 1920‑х – 1950‑ті рр.). – Донецьк, 2003. – p. 119.


prof. Stanisław Kulczycki (born 1937) – Ukrainian historian, deputy director of the Institute of History of the Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. 


 

Photo of the publication The Solidarity Movement – Freedom for Europe
Andrzej Friszke

The Solidarity Movement – Freedom for Europe

20 August 2011
Tags
  • communism
  • Poland
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Solidarity Movement
  • Solidarity Weekly

The creation of Solidarity was a great challenge for the whole political construction of post-Yalta Europe. This construction had been tested on a number of occasions in the post-war decades by the societies striving for freedom from the dependence on the USSR and from its consequence – the communist system.

1. In 1956 - a crisis in Poland and especially in Hungary exposed the hollowness of the strategy of “liberation”; the West remained passive regarding the pursuit of liberty behind the Iron Curtain.

2. In 1968 – liberalisation of the Prague Spring did not cause a significant support from the West and the armed intervention did not disturb the détente process.

3. The politics of easing of relations (détente) meant on the one hand the acceptance of the existing division in Europe, but on the other it could constrain the radical actions of the regimes on our side of the Iron Curtain.

4. Connected with détente but emphasised by Carter (Brzeziński), the politics of defending human rights was an additional restraint and obligation against blatant cynicism.

5. The pontificate of John Paul II from the beginning was boosting both the Poles' and other East European nations' self esteem.

The attitude of the powers regarding the crisis in Poland in the period 1980-81 requires inspection with great detail, however it is already possible to say, that neither the East, nor the West was prepared to revise the status quo. Poland was to remain a part of the Eastern Bloc, the existence of which was no longer questioned. However:

1. The powers of the West emphasised the right of the Poles to govern their affairs without outside interference, in practice – without Soviet intervention.

2. It is difficult to overestimate especially the US initiative from December 1980 warning the USSR against an intervention in Poland.

3. While the rule of non-interference in internal matters of Poland was emphasised, the issues of the need for dialogue among the Poles and the acceptance of “S” as a permanent element of Polish reality were raised.

4. At the same time, in the light of well-known economic problems, the West had no vision or political courage to draft a significant plan of economic aid.

5. We know of no attempts to talk between the Yalta signatories regarding Poland, what would in any case be highly unlikely because of the USSR position.

This listing can be summed up by the probably correct assessment of American politics made by the vice-minister of the People's Republic of Poland, Józef Wiejacz, in early December 1981: “Democratised Poland with recognised political pluralism (although without a free test of strength) remaining a socialist country and a member of the Warsaw Pact is a desirable goal of the USA. Such Poland would radiate its influence on other socialist countries, not excluding the USSR. The influence would be stronger if it was supported by the reform of economy.” Wiejacz added, that the limiting of economic aid for the People's Republic of Poland was the result of uncertainty about further internal political developments in Poland (it was not known who would ultimately benefit from the aid). In early 1981 the Polish government's request for financial aid of 3 billion USD (and additional 5 billion USD from the Western capitals) was rejected. The willingness of the other Western powers to become involved was significantly smaller, e.g. the West Germany government remained restrained in December 1980 and in the Fall of 1981 informed the Polish authorities in Warsaw, that they could not count on such significant financial aid.

Solidarity's leaders and advisors were mainly realists and rightly assessed the limits of possible changes of the status of Poland. They were choosing the politics of “small steps”. Solidarity declared self-limitation and respect of the division of Europe, avoided speaking out on the affairs of other countries and emphasised the will to build the subjectivity of Polish society in a country still controlled by the communists, at least as far as alliances, control of the army and foreign policy go. The tactic of these statements was obvious to everyone. The establishing of a separate course in the contacts with Western leaders, mainly, but not only, trade unions, was a departure from this scheme. During the visits of Solidarity's leaders in Rome, Paris and in the Fall of 1981 in West Germany, the custom of agreeing in the matters of meetings and statements with the Polish diplomatic agencies was disregarded. The “Message to the Working People of Eastern Europe” was a particularly far-reaching departure from the scheme. It was passed by Solidarity's Convention of Delegates in September 1981 and although it was not an effect of political calculation it ultimately played a moral role and made positive relations of Poles with their neighbours easier.

The introducing of martial law on December 13th interrupted the “Polish experiment” and was an attempt do return to status quo ante. The moral commitments undertaken in the era of détente and during the Solidarity period by the Western powers did not allow to return to the politics of cynicism, however. The experience of the attack on Solidarity was an important, perhaps necessary, ingredient accelerating and defining president Reagan's politics towards the USSR. The chilling of the international climate and the intensifying of the arms race in the conditions of technological revolution were challenges, which the USSR could no longer meet.

The Polish crisis, lasting also after 1982, was one of the important factors of the erosion of the post-Yalta system. It was also contributing to the weakening of the Soviet Bloc as a result of the maintained intense resistance and the existence of organised opposition in Poland, which had contact with organizations and even the governments of the Western world.

Solidarity was present in the scope of opinion of the people in the West, the situation which was supported by the press, but also by the enormous humanitarian aid undertaken with the most intensity by Germany. It seems that this aid contributed in a decisive way towards the breaking of distrust between the Poles and the Germans, which was the crucial condition of the success of changes of 1989.

The overcoming of habits and barriers natural in the world of politics required many specific attempts that were for some time very difficult, however. In mid-1985 in a letter to Zbigniew Bujak, being in hiding, Bronisław Geremek wrote: “In international public opinion a view is becoming prevalent that it had to be the way it happened on the 13th of December and that the situation in Poland returned to the East European norm already. And this is the function of the interviews I give: that it could have been different, that <S> does exist, that <S> can be a political partner, that Poland is and will remain different from the others.”

The construction of such an opinion was a result of many factors, including the influence of John Paul II. It seems that his activity should be linked with the breakthrough of 1986, which was the decision of the US government to end the economic sanctions introduced after December 13th depending on the release of political prisoners (including Bujak, arrested in the middle of the year) and making by the Pope the visit of Jaruzelski in Vatican dependant also on the release of the prisoners. The amnesty in September 1986 allowed for open, however still illegal, functioning of the opposition. Jaruzelski was received in Vatican in 1987 and that unlocked the diplomatic contacts of the People's Republic of Poland on the big stage and helped to end the sanctions mentioned earlier. In June 1987 John Paul II could make another visit in Poland, which had a big importance in reviving the activity of Solidarity. Numerous visits of people of importance from the West in Poland in 1987 included from that time the meetings with Wałęsa and his advisors.

The way out of the Polish crisis through negotiations and compromise was in accordance with the ideas and priorities of the Western powers shaped already in 1981. At least until the Fall of 1989 the dissolution of the Eastern Bloc was not taken into consideration, only its pluralisation and evolution. Poland should follow the road of gradual democratic reforms based on a possibly wide consensus. The West was also not ready to tackle the various problems, mainly economic, which had to arise from the rapid dissolution of the Eastern Bloc. This process had to take time.

What had been said earlier leads to the conclusion, that the actions of the leaders of Solidarity in 1989 were rational to the utmost and matched the ideas and expectations of the leaders of the West well and at the same time did not provoke a counterattack of those forces, which would be willing to defend the Soviet empire. The model of Polish transformation became an impulse which stimulated the freedom movements in East Germany and in Czechoslovakia, although not all are willing to admit it today.

The example of a rebellion and self-organization of a society against a monolithic state and its progressing erosion was noticed by other societies. After all, thousands of articles around the world were written about Solidarity, but also about the limited and gradual demands. The peaceful method of protest and pressure became known, together with the building by way of mobilising the masses in a calm, but determined, action. Other movements, such as Sajudis or the democratic movement in East Germany and Czechoslovakia of the end of the 1980s, adopted similar ways of self-organization and protest. Whether it was the example of Solidarity or their own experience can only be answered by further studies and analyses.

Even before the June elections the Solidarity Citizens' Committee passed a statement about international affairs, in which it was written: “We declare readiness to cooperate with all forces working for pluralism and democracy in Czechoslovakia, Hungary, in the USSR. We express sympathy towards the nations of the USSR fighting for their rights, especially the Belarusians, Ukrainians and Lithuanians. […] At the same time we declare that we support that, which strengthens the unity of Europe and the popularisation of the European idea. Poland can not exist without Europe, but there is also no peaceful Europe without Poland.”

The option chosen by Solidarity in 1989 and especially during the forming of the Mazowiecki government and afterwards, was unambiguously pro-Western, aiming to establish equal relationship with the USSR and pave the way to integration with Western Europe. The politics of “small steps”, which was the essence of actions of the mainstream of Solidarity, turned out to be a very effective one, not only for the Poles, but also for the neighbouring nations.

 


prof. Andrzej Friszke (born in. 1956) – historian, vice-president of Institute of National Remembrance. Linked to the Institute of Political Studies of Polish Academy of Science (PAN). He was editor in Solidarity Weekly „Tygodnik Solidarność”. Member of editor board „Więzi”.


Photo of the publication The Memory of Communist Crimes: The “House of Terror” and the Central Cemetery
Krisztián Ungváry

The Memory of Communist Crimes: The “House of Terror” and the Central Cemetery

20 August 2011
Tags
  • communism
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Crimes
  • Budapest
  • House of Terror

The 20th century was an age of totalitarianisms, both of which cited the danger emanating from the other to legitimise its own actions. The ravages, mass murders, deportations were usually justified as preventive measures. In this respect there are reciprocal and close causal connections between the crimes of the communists and those of the national-socialists. A memorial culture which only looks at the crimes of one of these totalitarian systems runs the risk of being harnessed to the service of the other totalitarian system and consequently of abetting its crimes or of playing down those crimes. The two memorial sites discussed in my essay are illustrative examples of this.

The “House of Terror”

The house at Andrássy Street 60 was virtually predistined to become a museum because, until 1945, it was the headquarters of the Hungarian national-socialists, after which it was occupied by the communist political police until 1989. The center-right nationalist government of Viktor Orbán spared no costs, and in 2002 it had created the most imposing museum in Hungary of the last 15 years. The courtyard of the museum houses photo installations consisting of a “wall of perpetrators” and a “wall of victims”. Well appointed rooms have been created over three floors, which focus on selected aspects of two dictatorships: that of the Arrow Cross Party and that of the Communists.

From the start, socialist and liberal politicians criticised the idea of a setting up a museum in this house. Foreign Minister László Kovács suggested creating a “House of Remembrance and Reconciliation” at another site instead of a “House of Terror”. But reconciliation demands a suitable acknowledgement of guilt. This has practically not happened on the part of the perpetrators.

The first room of the exhibition focuses on the “double occupation”. While a conscious decision was taken not to depict the road to the Holocaust in the exhibition – strangely enough this was the only topic about which there was a general consensus between all political parties, who agreed to consign this topic to a separate museum set in a more remote location – the abridged and truncated depiction of history has resulted in outrageous compromises. Visitors are led to believe that only a few individuals can be held responsible for the attacks on Jews, although in reality the reverse was the case. In view of the incriminating fact that several hundreds of thousands of Hungarian profited from the theft of Jewish property and that the ruling parties prior to 1944 barely differed from the Arrow Cross Party in their anti-Semitism, such information is completely misleading. While the policies of Miklós Horthy acted as a brake on the most radical Hungarian anti-Semites, his merits cannot be used to cover up the responsibility for the persecution of Jews which occurred prior to 1944.

The most obvious failure of symbolic representation occurs in the room which shows a change of clothes. Two figures, each with their back to the other, wearing the uniform respectively of the Arrow Cross Party and of the communist political police, are positioned on a revolving podium. In addition, a screen shows shadowy figures changing their clothes. As in 1945 not a single member of the Arrow Cross Party put on the uniform of the political police, this representation can only be described as a falsification of history. If the organizers of the exhibition had wanted to show the similarities between the two totalitarian parties, then they would have had to highlight the continuities among the supporters of both parties.

The curators’ concept of revealing continuities by using members of the political police as examples is also indicative of a key issue of this exhibition: all references to a national responsibility for the crimes have been avoided. All that visitors can read about the members of the political police is the comment: “an organisation of radical left-wing elements, criminals and former hangman’s assistants of the Arrow Cross Party”. In fact, there was not a single “hangman’s assistant of the Arrow Cross Party” among the leaders of the political police, that is, among the persons whose portraits are displayed in the exhibition, nor were there any common criminals. Many, indeed, were staunch communists. For a large majority revenge may have motivated and influenced their decision to join the police because, to a large extent, the first members of the political police were Jews who had suffered first-hand experience of oppression under the government of Miklós Horthy (1 March 1920–16 October 1944) as conscripted members of the Jewish Labour Service (a special unit for forced labour in the Hungarian army), that is, as victims. Only a few of them had returned from exile. The exhibition primarily shows compromising material about communists. The museum “House of Terror” has given virtually no space to antifascism.

In the room on anti-communist resistance, visitors can read the following text: “Several thousands of people enlisted in various armed resistance organisations (...) The names of many of them are unknown. Communist lies are still being told about others, although they are true heroes”. It is difficult to interpret such sentences in any other sense than by taking them to mean that all anti-communists movements, including extreme right-wing and racist movements, were heroic and should be glorified, which means that the motives behind such anti-communist movements should not be scrutinised and differentiated.

This undifferentiated presentation of individual life stories results in a confusion between perpetrators and victims. This is particularly evident in the reconstructed torture cellar. There is no reference next to any of the portraits in the cells informing visitors about what exactly the persons represented there stood accused of and why they had become victims of the Terror. Victims where a discussion of their biography as perpetrators would have been necessary were either left out or belonged exclusively to the anti-communist camp. This concept is an indication of the current political considerations of the organizers of the exhibition who, while they did dare to present controversial figures from the anti-communist camp as victims, failed to apply the same standards to communists.

The aim of the Hungarian politics of memory to create meaning is unmistakeable when one examines the speeches and comments made at the museum’s inauguration. In his opening speech in February 2002 Minister President Viktor Orbán stated that dictatorships in Hungary had always only come to power with outside help. However, this does not apply in the case of the Soviet Republic (19 March – 2 August 1919). And during the government of Döme Sztójay (22 March–29 September 1944) the deportations of Jews were carried out for the most part by Hungarian officials.

The Central Cemetery

The victims of all important political trials held between 1945 and 1962 are buried in the Central Cemetery in two large plots. In plot 298 lie the remains of people executed between 1945 and 1956 for alleged or actual “war crimes” and “crimes against humanity”, but also the remains of people who were victims of show trials. Arrow Cross members, war criminals, democrats, and socialists all lie here side by side. In the adjacent plot 301 the victims of show trials held prior to 1956 as well as participants in the revolution of 1956 are buried.

After the fall of communism the grounds became a site of memory where the different interpretations of the past collided. Already in 1989 the fringe artists collective Inconnu erected numerous so-called Kopjafa (wooden beams in the style of the burial steles of the Magyars prior to their Christianisation) on plot 298. In the same year and as a reaction against the modernity of the memorial site, a stylised entrance resembling a Magyar farmhouse was erected, bearing the inscription: “Wanderer, you who come here can only enter this gate if you have a Hungarian soul.” Behind it a marble tablet was put up with the following inscription: “They died a martyr’s death for the fatherland”. Sentences such as these exemplify a stance whereby those buried there are considered victims of a special persecution directed against Magyars. The fact that the perpetrators (judges, policemen, officers, politicians, etc.) without exception considered themselves as Magyars is thus indirectly denied by the initiators of these funerary inscriptions.

The fact that both innocent victims and mass murders rest together in plot 298 and even that some of these mass murderers were not executed for their crimes but on trumped up charges has not been a topic of discussion for more than 15 years. A “cleansing” of the plot with the removal of problematic persons is unlikely and would be difficult to enforce because the families would consider this a desecration of the grave. When we look at many of the victims we find a mixture of actual and contrived guilt. Were there to be a consistent separation, only a few persons would remain in the plot. This situation is made even more complicated by the fact that one group is totally missing from the plot: the communists who were killed during the show trials. They were either not buried here or they were exhumed already in 1956 and ceremoniously reburied. And so, for the right-wing camp there is no reason to criticise or review those buried there. The possibility of replacing the commemorative plaques with new texts, thereby doing justice to the complexity of both sites of memory, is clearly a task which the political decision-makers have continued to avoid up to the present day.

 

translated from German by Helen Schoop


Krisztián Ungváry (born 1969) – Hungarian historian specializing in political and military history of 20th century. His most popular works are studies on sieges laid to Budapest during World War II. One of the founders of the Hungarian Association of Boy Scouts.


Photo of the publication The Hungarian Chapter of a Bratislava Reader
Csaba Gy. Kiss

The Hungarian Chapter of a Bratislava Reader

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Hungary
  • Solidarity
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • History
  • Slovakia
  • Bratislava

As a preamble I would like to briefly present the story of Bratislava’s Coronation Hill. The site played an important part in the coronation ritual of the kings of Hungary. The newly elected king would ride to the hill, dismount, and then take one step in all four cardinal directions with his raised sword in hand to signify his willingness to defend the country. In 1897, a marble monument to Maria Theresa was unveiled on the site, a masterpiece by the Bratislavan sculptor János Fadrusz. In 1920 the monument was blown up by Czech soldiers. After the formation of Czechoslovakian Republic a monument to Milan Rastislav Štefanik flanked by an enormous lion was erected there.

In the time of the so-called “Slovak State” (1938–1944) the lion was considered superfluous. In socialist Czechoslovakia even the general was removed from the site. Today we admire monuments celebrating the Slovak triumvirate of national rebirth from the years 1848/49: Ludovít Štúr, Jozef Miloslav Hurban and Michal Miloslav Hodža.

Not unusually for Europe, certainly for Central Europe, the city has many names. The names – Preßburg, Bratislava and Pozsony – do not merely mark political vicissitudes and underscore the multi-ethnic composition of this city on the banks of the Danube, they also indicate the differing respective memories of the city. Even the use of these names in the 19th and 20th centuries points to certain characteristic traits of Central European nation-states – as modern and tolerant nations. In a recently published collection of essays on the city’s historiography Elena Mannová wrote: “At first glance one could claim that there are many histories of this city, all of which developed as a consequence of political and social changes and of changes of rulers over the different ethnic groups living in the city.”[1] Although in this essay I will be looking at the Hungarian chapter of the city’s history and at Hungarian traditions, I would like to emphasise that I am a committed supporter of a collective, supranational reading of Bratislava.

The most important aspects of the Hungarian contribution to this city will be summarised in five points: Bratislava as the city of royal coronations, as a centre of so-called “Hungarus patriotism”, as the venue of the Hungarian Diet, as “the Hungarian muse in Bratislava”, and as the city of the Kraxelhuber.

In the semiotics of the city, Hungarian memories of the city rest on the following elements: the rectangular castle with its four corner towers where the “Holy Crown of Hungary” – also known as the Crown of St. Stephen – is kept, St. Martin’s Cathedral where the kings of Hungary were crowned, and the palace of the Catholic Primate, where in 1848 Ferdinand V gave his consent to certain reforms as part of a new constitution. In the Hungarian tradition Bratislava was given the attribute “coronation city”. In December 1526 Ferdinand I of Habsburg was elected King of Hungary in the Franciscan monastery and crowned in Stuhlweissenburg/Székesfehérvar. From the middle of the 16th century onwards, Bratislava was, to all intents and purposes, the kingdom’s capital. Its proximity to Vienna played an important role in this decision. According to Hungarian etymological studies, the city’s Hungarian name of Pozsony can be traced back to the personal name of a territory around the castle in the early medieval period.

In Hungarian memory medieval Bratislava was an important border fortification. In his celebrated epic poem “The diver Kund”, published in 1829, the famous Hungarian romantic poet Mihály Vörösmarty (1800–1855) tells the story of a diver who managed to sink the Danube fleet of King Henry III in Preßburg in 1052. In Hungarian eyes the “deputy” capital city of Bratislava was always on the west of the country, on the margins of the country, not merely because of its German-speaking population and its progressiveness, but also because of its political position and its resident aristocracy and citizens.

I use the term “Hungarus patriotism” to describe a mindset which preceded the concept of a modern national identity; its point of origin was loyalty to the whole of the Kingdom of Hungary and it was not dependent on the respective person’s class or native language. The multi-talented scientist and teacher at the Evangelical Lyceum of Preßburg, Matthias/Matej/Mátyás Bél (1684–1749) encapsulates such “Hungarus patriotism”.

The Slovak language area in the north, the Hungarian language area in the south and the German-Austrian language area to the west all formed part of the city’s hinterland. As regards religion, the city was populated by a Roman Catholic majority, a relatively strong Protestant Lutheran minority and a Jewish Diaspora. In his work Mátyás Bél demonstrates his linguistic and religious tolerance, valuing all languages spoken in his country. He was the editor of a multivolume encyclopaedic work, written in Latin, on the Kingdom of Hungary covering all its historical, political, economic and ethnographic aspects.

Bratislava has a long tradition of multilingualism. A citizen or intellectual of Bratislava spoke at least three languages. National historiography narratives tend to ignore or neglect this tradition. An in-depth study of the work of journalists and teachers would be worthwhile, for example the work of Karl Gottlieb von Windisch (1725–1793), founder of the newspaper Preßburger Zeitung, or of Tobias Gottfried Schröer (1791–1850), who referred to himself as a “Hungarus” and who wrote about both Hungarian and Slovak culture, or of Lajos/Ĺudovít Szeberényi (1820–1875), a professor und clergyman of Slovak parentage and a translator of Slovak folk songs into Hungarian.

Between 1825 and 1848 the Hungarian Diet met nine times in Preßburg. It would be only a slight exaggeration to state that the modern state of Hungary originated in Bratislava. Among the members of parliament of those years we can find such extraordinary personalities of Hungarian history as Count István Széchenyi, Ferenc Kölcsey, the poet who wrote the national anthem, Miklós Wesselényi, Lajos Kossuth, Ferenc Deák and, not least, Lajos Batthyány (1807–1849), a native of Preßburg who became the first prime minister of the liberal Hungarian government and was martyred in the revolution of 1848/49.

In his book A Hungarian Nabob Mór Jókai, the foremost Hungarian novelist of the 19th century, described those years as follows: “Big ideas, extensive reforms rise up in front of the public, people read newspapers in the coffee houses (...), during the day the public visits the gallery of the Parliamentary Building with the same zest and curiosity as they would pay a visit to the theatre.”

Protagonists of Hungarian literature such as Mór Jókai (1825–1904) and Sándor Petőfi (1823–1849) lived and worked in the coronation city. Jókai attended the Evangelical Lyceum for three years as an “exchange pupil”. In the former Kingdom of Hungary it was customary in areas where several languages were spoken for parents to send their children for a time into a family which spoke a different language to allow the children to learn the language of their neighbours. The first time Petőfi arrived in Preßburg he came on foot and as a soldier, later he tried his aptitude as an actor in the summer theatre on the other bank of the Danube.

Bratislava has earned for itself the title ‘city of schools’. In 1465 King Matthias Corvinus founded a university, the Academia Istropolitana in Preßburg. 1606 was the year in which the Evangelical Lyceum was founded, an educational establishment which went on to play an extraordinarily important role in German, Slovak and Hungarian culture over the centuries. A Roman Catholic school has existed Bratislava since 1714. Its teachers included the Jesuit György Káldi (1572–1634), who translated the Roman Catholic bible into Hungarian. The Royal Academy of Jurisprudence, founded in 1784, was also very important for Hungarian and Slovak culture.

Bratislava could also be considered as the birthplace of an ungarländische press (Ungarländisch means Hungarian in a political, territorial and historical, but not necessarily ethnic, sense). The newspaper Preßburger Zeitung was first published in 1764, followed in 1780 by the first issue of the Hungarian-language newspaper Magyar Hírmondó [The Hungarian Courier] and in 1783 by the Slovak Prešpurské Noviny (Preßburger Zeitung).

And, finally, who were the Kraxelhuber? In the Hungarian perception the citizens of Preßburg were loyal subjects of the Habsburg monarchy and strongly infiltrated with Viennese culture. The citizens of Preßburg were often referred to with a certain irony as Kraxelhuber by the Hungarians. Originally the name was a play on the work in the vineyards. In 1890 almost 60 percent of the city’s population were ethnically German. A Kraxelhuber was a conservative citizen with an ungarländische identity. He spoke Hungarian but was notable for speaking an accented Hungarian which made him look slightly ridiculous. The Kraxelhuber was a frequently occurring character in humorous Hungarian newspapers in the last third of the 19th century. In the era of the Hungarian illusion of a nation-state at the beginning of the 20th century Preßburg was given a Hungarian appearance including Hungarian street names and inscriptions; the St. Elisabeth University was founded in 1914. After the end of the Habsburg monarchy Pressburg/Bratislava/Pozsony became the capital city of Slovakia in the newly founded state of Czechoslovakia. In the inter-war period the city became a centre of cultural life for the Hungarian minority in the First Czechoslovak Republic.

 

translated from German by Helen Schoop

[1] Mannová, Elena: Pozsony historiográfiája (Egy multietnikus város múltjának differenciált bemutatása a 19. és 20. század politikai fordulatai után) [The Historiography of Bratislava. A differentiated approach to the history of a multiethnic city based on the political changes in the 19th and 20th century] In: Fejezetek Pozsony történetébol magyar és szlovák szemmel. Szerk. Czoch Gábor, továbbá Kocsis Aranka, Tóth Árpád [Pictures of the History of Bratislava through the Eyes of Hungarians and Slovaks, ed. by G. Czoch, in collaboration with A. Kocsis and Á. Tóth]. Kalligram, Pozsony 2005. pp. 47–48.


prof. Csaba Gy. Kiss (born 1945) – Hungarian political scientist, prominent expert on Central European issues. Historian of culture and literature, conducts comparative research studies on literatures of Central Europe and myths and national symbols in literature. Professor of Universities in Budapest and Zagreb. President of Scientific Council of European Network Remembrance and Solidarity.


Photo of the publication The European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
Andrzej Przewoźnik

The European Network Remembrance and Solidarity

20 August 2011
Tags
  • Central Europe
  • Eastern Europe
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Andrzej Przewoźnik
  • International Organizations

The recent years have proven that the vast majority of discussions and debates about the past in countries of Central-Eastern Europe were concentrating and still concentrate around the problem of existence and operation of the sites of memory. They were and most probably they will be for long an essential factor shaping “historical politics” of each nation and state aware of its past. Unarguable is the fact that the programs of historical education of societies and - most importantly - processes of remembering collective past and shaping of collective future are developed and realized on the basis of the sites of memory. United Europe more and more frequently reaches to its historical roots while looking for a binder enabling construction of the common culture of memory. The problem of relation to the past that is permanently present in historical debates is the proof of that.

While Europe politically and economically and otherwise becomes unity in almost exemplary way then the attitude to the past, experiences resulting from it and accompanying emotions demonstrate how difficult becomes development of common culture of memory, how deeply is in this respect still divided our continent. Different experiences from the past, lack of opportunities to carry out an open dialogue about it still remain factors significantly hindering such process. Different levels of historical awareness and mainly different and not always comprehensible for the other partners historical experiences of societies of particular European states cause, that carrying out an open and honest dialogue that is respecting facts and experiences resulting from the past and above all taking into account sensitivity of the others, becomes very complicated. The necessity to create a common ground for European dialogue about the past becomes a challenge for people aware of this fact.

Europe of the 20th century still is in shadow of the two bloody and devastating wars and – what is particularly important – of the two totalitarian systems: German National Socialism and Soviet Communism. This horrible heritage of the past left its stamp on history of the whole European continent. It became the common experience. It was common but also unique since these experiences were recorded in memories of particular states and nations differently and today they take quite different meanings. This distinctness is best expressed by symbols and tokens of our memory of past, in the sites of memory.

The conference on the sites of memory, their significance and role in contemporary world and in historical discourse according to intentions of its organizers should bring closer and define the problem and ipso facto to contribute to understanding of the culture of memory of our neighbors.

Intention to set up a conference on sites of memory in the Central-Eastern European states emerged in 2005 during numerous, sometimes emotional discussions we used to carry out with colleagues from Austria, Germany, Hungary and Slovakia while working on guidelines of the project of the European Network “Remembrance and Solidarity”. It is the result of our common effort to create the ground for exchanging experiences and opinions that is indispensable for the process of development European culture of memory. In this work we were united by the need to create the European culture of memory based on dialogue and respect for the past.

Creation of the European Network Remembrance and Solidarity whose task is analysis, documentation and propagation of knowledge about history of the 20th century, the century of wars, totalitarian dictatorships and suffering of civilian population, based on common declaration signed on February 2nd, 2005 in the Royal Castle in Warsaw by the Ministers of Culture of Poland, Germany, Slovakia and Hungary, was a step in this direction.

Tasks of the European Network Remembrance and Solidarity: connection of initiatives of public and private institutions, NGOs, scientific centers and sites of memory in various European countries with aim to actualize the main message that underlies establishment of this initiative so important for European dialogue. The European Network Remembrance and Solidarity will support and finance realization of joint scientific and educational projects which contribute to better knowledge of the past, its understanding and to construction and development of the European culture of memory. The Foundation European Network Remembrance and Solidarity was founded on August 23rd, 2005 by professor Józef Szajna – a prominent Polish artist, former prisoner of KL Auschwitz-Birkenau.

The Conference on the sites of memory in Central-Eastern Europe is the first initiative starting European dialogue on problems of the past which came into being within the circle of people creating the European Network Remembrance and Solidarity. It is held in a particular place, in a hall called New Chamber of Representatives of Royal Castle in Warsaw which was destroyed during the World War II and was rebuilt by Polish society. It is in this very hall that in 1791 the text of the Constitution of 3rd May came into being. This Constitution set foundations of modern structure for Polish state. It was the first in Europe and second in the world, after the United States of America, document of this kind. The goal of the Constitution of 3rd May was to reform the state and gave it solid foundations.

As the organizers of the conference we will not contribute to creation of a document so significant for development of each of our states but drawing on achievements of our predecessors from 200 years ago we can ensure that free and substantial exchange of opinions on various problems of our common past will contribute to restoration of dialogue necessary for the development of European culture of memory and to preparation of solid foundations for this dialogue.

 


Andrzej Przewoźnik (1963-2010) – historian, long-term Secretary General of the Council for Protection of Memory Struggle and Martyrdom. One of originators of the European Network Remembrance and Solidarity. Killed in the plane crash in Smolensk in April 2010.


Photo of the publication The Dispute about the Legacy of the “Prague Spring”
Jan Pauer

The Dispute about the Legacy of the “Prague Spring”

20 August 2011
Tags
  • 1968
  • European Network Remembrance and Solidarity
  • Czechoslovakia
  • Prague Spring
  • remembrance

When you look back at the year 1968, you will encounter the curious fact that while the “Prague Spring” is accorded a great measure of respect and sympathy in the West, in Prague, particularly after the emergence of an independent Czech Republic in the years 1992/93, it is viewed with scepticism and even open rejection by important elements of the new political elite and public opinion-makers. While in Europe, including the former Eastern Bloc, its suppression is viewed as a national, Czechoslovak tragedy, the gist of many Czech commentaries voiced in the first half of the 1990s was that the “Prague Spring” was primarily a struggle between various communist parties, and the whole event is viewed as an episode in the history of an absurd experiment – communism.

In the early 1990s opinions about Dubček varied widely in the Czech Republic. Younger and more conservative journalists located him irretrievably in the communist camp. A more differentiated view conceded that the reformers of 1968 were endeavouring to make the system more humane but at the same time they stood accused of illusory, inconsistent and weak policies. In this more differentiated view, the central importance of the “Prague Spring” lay in its failure, because this finally buried the illusion of the reformability of the communist system. Conversely, such well known protagonists of 1968 as Karel Kosík, Jiří Pelikán or Eduard Goldstücker accuse the new liberal-conservative political establishment of behaving no different towards the “Prague Spring” than the Husák regime at the time. They conclude that the “Prague Spring” was “buried twice” by political rulers, once after 1968 and once after 1989. The neo-liberal parties emerged as the victors of the political process of differentiation which took place in Czechia after 1989 and wanted to make it clear that they had different concepts of democracy and society than those voiced in 1968. With their schematic contrast between a “natural order” and the “hubristic construction” of a technocratically designed, better world, all socialists and moderate leftists were branded as political enemies who imperilled the basic principles of human liberty. The “Prague Spring” became a political issue and the focus of political disputes. Up until 1989 criticisms did not concentrate on party members but on the “generation of 1968” and the dissidents associated with them, for example the civil rights movement “Charta 77”.

If one wants to understand the temporary disdain for the “Prague Spring” after 1989 even within the carefully considered anti-communism of the Czech Republic, then it must understood that a large part of this is due to the particular manner of its failure. Failure was successive and the most difficult part was carried out by the reformers themselves. Their inability not to abandon certain political principles, preferring to relinquish power rather than hoping that their sheer persistence in staying on and occupying certain functions would constitute a lesser evil was not a coincidence. It reflected the basic difference between a reform-communist politics carried out by proconsuls and legal and democratic politics by politicians who know they are bound to the people, to parliament and to their country’s constitution. The suppression of the reform-communist experiment led to resignation, cynicism, and emigration. The twenty years of the Husák regime were characterised by a retreat into private life accompanied by an outward appearance of collaboration with the regime. Repression, but also political conformity and self-abnegation, transformed the country into a cultural waste land. All thoughts of reform were banished from the party until 1989.

The political exploitation surrounding the concept of the “Prague Spring” which characterised the first half of the nineties is only gradually receding. The emergence of more differentiated judgements and a more carefully argued style of altercation in the disputes surrounding the legacy of the “Prague Spring” are unmistakeable. Moreover, despite the controversial assessment of the reformist experiment, the “Prague Spring” and its violent suppression have been deeply inscribed in the collective memory of Czech citizens. According to various surveys, the “Prague Spring” is viewed by the majority as an attempt to renew democracy and as a matter which concerns the majority of the nation.

The perception of the Prague Spring took a different course in Slovakia. Both the reform movement of 1968 and the consequences of its failure were much slower in Slovakia. As the country’s decentralisation turned out to be the only reform of 1968, which survived the political restoration of 1969, this gave the Husák regime a certain legitimacy within Slovakia. Under the communist regime Slovakia experienced the biggest leap in urbanisation and industrialisation in its history. The change of regime in 1989 did not lead to a strong polarisation between a democratic opposition and official structures, and this was reflected in a more muted debate about the communist past and in the rejection of the policy of “lustrations” which was widely applied in Czechia after 1989. In Slovakia after 1989 there was, in general, a more positive attitude to the legacy of the reforms of 1968.

Neither reform communism nor Eurocommunism left a theoretical or institutional legacy on which the newly won democracies after 1989 could or needed to build. Reform communism as a democratic concept is neither identical with the democratic awakening which swept through all levels of society, referred to as the “Prague Spring”, nor with its meaning both for Czech and Slovak history and in European history.

Why did the “Prague Spring” fascinate the West? For socialists and Eurocommunists the “Prague Spring” stood for the hope that the longed for combination of social justice and democracy could become a reality. For modernisers and technocrats it was an experiment which might have shown whether a convergence of systems would be possible, whether the expansion of the welfare state in the West could have had a counterpart in a democratisation with a more market-based economy in the East. For social-democrats the Prague Spring was an inspiration and opened up a perspective whereby the split of the left into communists and social-democrats could have been overcome.

The idea that the totalitarian Soviet communism might be overcome peacefully and without bloodshed electrified even middle-class and conservative politicians such as Margaret Thatcher or George Bush senior. The sheer notion of a non-violent ending of the partition of Europe touched almost everyone, even otherwise apolitical citizens. And finally, the “Prague Spring” was a global media event. Millions of people on their televisions watched the invasion of a small country, which was not threatening anybody but had only set about clearing away its own lies and undemocratic practices. The Prague Spring lastingly changed the view of the nature of Soviet communism. Well-known European intellectuals such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Bertrand Russell denounced the military intervention as “Moscow’s Vietnam”.

In the former Eastern Bloc the Prague Spring has had a lasting impact, as for a few months the mutability of the dictatorial Soviet-style system became a reality in favour of new freedoms. The protests against the military intervention in the Soviet Union, Poland, Hungary and the GDR by small and at the time powerless groups of dissidents marked a break in the development of the Eastern bloc. It was the start of a civil society opposition and the historical end of reform communism.

The “Prague Spring” gives little cause for self-righteous judgements. Neither the simple formula of the reform communists who claim that it was a direct precursor of the “Velvet Revolution” nor the neo-liberal explanation which contrasts the interests of the people, who wanted democracy, with those of the reform communists, who were only striving to modernise their rule, are right.

Culturally, the 1960s represented a productive time of new beginnings. The civilisatory backwardness of the East compared to the West was not yet so obvious, and the pre-ecological fetishisation of growth and technology promoted the idea, which many believed in at the time, of a long-term convergence of the systems in East and West. The astonishing global renaissance of Marxism in the 1960s facilitated communication across borders and political blocks. Ideologically, the “Prague Spring” represented the zenith of contemporary misconceptions. The reformers trusted in the idea that the new social structures which had been created by nationalisation could no longer be overturned. Because they really did believe in socialism’s historical mission, they dared to attempt more democracy.

Despite the above mentioned programmatic limitations, the social processes of 1968 represented a system transformation which could not have been halted without resorting to violence. The historical importance of the “Prague Spring lies in the democratic subversiveness of the reform and transformation process which provided historical proof of the potential for a communist dictatorship to be overcome by peaceful means.

 

 translated from German by Helen Schoop


 

Jan Pauer PhD - historian, translator and philosopher. In  1990-1993 collaborated with the committee of Czech historians set up by the Czech government for studies on history of former Czechoslovakia in 1967-1971. Since 1993 works in Centre of Central and Eastern European Studies of the University of Bremen. Cooperated in realisation of many documentary films, took part in many radio programs and wrote many articles for newspapers on history, culture and politics in Central and Eastern Europe.