We are used to treating the trial at the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg as an obvious aftermath of the war. And yet, at the time, immediately after the end of the war, the very idea of putting on trial people who had acted in accordance with the laws of their state, trying them for crimes that were not codified in written law (e.g. crimes against peace, or crimes against humanity) aroused quite widespread opposition and even indignation among some lawyers.

Even for that part of the legal world which did not doubt that the crimes of the Second World War should be accounted for in judicial terms, unanswered questions remained: how to judge mass, even industrial-scale murders, for what and on what basis to judge those who ‘merely’ gave orders and commands? In a world of sovereign states, do governments have the right to try the leaders of other states? Is this not a dangerous precedent?

The helplessness of the justice system in the face of mass, organised crimes was aptly expressed during the trial of the KL Lublin (Majdanek) staff by the Polish prosecutor Jerzy Sawicki, who, incidentally, was also the Polish delegate during the Nuremberg trial: ‘I am supposed to speak about the guilt of the defendants, i.e. I am supposed to put their guilt into words. Your Honour, words are the creation of people, and what happened there is inhuman. [I know that normally when a prosecutor stands before the court and asks for a death sentence, a shudder of horror goes through the court, the prosecutor and the audience. I feel all my powerlessness when the words “death penalty” are pronounced in this courtroom’.

It seems that most of the legal dilemmas faced by lawyers during the Nuremberg trials, whatever aspect they concerned, were ultimately located in the age-old tension/conflict between the Roman ‘judicial’ approach to law and the modern ‘legislative’ approach. The former concept was largely based on axiology, seeing legal norms in the perspective of morality derived from natural laws (St Thomas, Kant’s categorical imperative). Its proponents were charged with the accusation that interpreting legal rules on the basis of an ambiguous, unspecific and undefined morality had the effect of departing from legal rules and giving lawyers too wide a field of interpretation. The latter notion, over time referred to as legal positivism, prevailed in the early 20th century in continental Europe. It favoured a reasoned, rational approach to law, which was primarily reduced to the legal norm; moreover, the radical version of legal positivism emphasised that there was no necessary connection between law and morality (John Austin, Rudolf von Ihering). The discussion taking place among legal scholars still during and just after the war was in essence a debate between positivists and proponents of natural law. The former believed that the crimes of the Second World War could be judged with the help of existing laws and existing jurisprudence. The latter pointed out that the mass scale and specificity of the crimes required new legal solutions. It is important to note that the goal of both was to try and convict the criminals, but they wanted to achieve this by different methods.

Justice for the victors?
One of the main general criticisms of the Nuremberg trials was and still is that they were a manifestation of ‘victors’ justice’, which only prosecuted and punished crimes committed by the Axis states, while the Allies, most notably the Soviet Union, were not held accountable for their own war crimes. Critics argue that the selective application of justice undermined the credibility of the trials.

Indeed, Nuremberg was a ‘court of the victors over the vanquished’, but it was the only possible tribunal in the political situation of the time. Any trial, even the best-prepared one, is subject to the subjectivity of the judges, to human error, let alone a trial before an international tribunal in which the conflicting interests of four powers clashed and a defeated Germany tried desperately to defend itself.

Faced with a whole series of dilemmas and legal doubts, only the will of the politicians could push through the establishment of the International Military Tribunal. Pragmatism and political realism stood above procedural deficiencies, the subjectivity of the judges, and the impossibility of trying Soviet criminals. Awareness of these shortcomings accompanied both politicians and lawyers from the very beginning. The prosecutor on the British side, Sir Hartley Shawcross, wrote 20 years after the trial: ‘The wisest legal arguments pale into insignificance and even become irrelevant in the face of the facts which have been proved, including by the use of official Nazi documents. What happened [during the Third Reich period] touched the conscience of all civilised nations, including the German people, and even cried out for judgement and punishment.’

It is also worth remembering that even during the war the response to information about the mass murders carried out by the Germans was suggestions that extrajudicial punishment be administered to them. As early as 1941, Theodore N. Kaufman self-published his book Germany Must Perish, in which he proposed the sterilisation of the entire German nation. According to the author’s calculations, it would take four months to sterilise the male German population by some 25,000 surgeons, and about three years for women. The plan of the American finance minister Henry Morgenthau, who believed that Germany would be a security risk even after demilitarisation, was well known and considered after the war, so in his book Germany Is Our Problem (1945) he advocated making Germany an entirely agricultural country in order to deprive it of an economic base for war. Even Winston Churchill himself believed (W. Churchill’s dispatch to A. Eden of 17 September 1944) that most of the German leadership (50 to 100 people) should be executed without trial. In the perspective of the above ideas, any judicial solution was a victory for common sense and the principles of Western civilisation.

Today, it is not easy for us to understand the legal dilemmas of the time - the international trial of criminals from Rwanda, Yugoslavia or Sudan seems obvious to us, but it is worth remembering that after the atrocities of the war, innovative interpretations of the law raised fears of creating new chaos, the effect of which could be to undermine the legal foundations of Western civilisation. The most striking example is the comment by US Supreme Court Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone: ‘...I would like to inform you that the Supreme Court had nothing to do, either directly or indirectly, with the Nuremberg trials or the actions of the government that authorized them’. In a private letter, he wrote: ‘The Nuremberg trials are an attempt to justify the use of the power of the victor over the vanquished, since the vanquished caused the aggressive war’. He feared the lasting effects of the instrumental use of law in international politics.

Acting in accordance with the law of one’s own state
One of the fundamental dilemmas of the Nuremberg trials was the very fact of the establishment of an international tribunal. Western political thought was dominated by the Act of State principle, particularly firmly rooted in Anglo-Saxon law, derived directly from the concept of state sovereignty. This principle implies that, in an anarchic international system, the authorities of one state do not have the right to judge the authorities of another state, since the legal principles established by the sovereign are the law in its territory.¹.According to this interpretation, a person acting on behalf, or in the interest, of a state cannot be held personally responsible for their actions; he or she is, as it were, subject to immunity on the grounds that their acts are presumptively legal, since they comply with the law established by the sovereign. Lawyers, both European and American, realised that a complete abandonment of the Act of State principle could be a dangerous precedent and could provide a legal basis for future interference in the internal legal system of sovereign states. The Nazi period provided an argument for many positivists to move away from the overly principled dominance of formalism over axiology and the overly radical separation of law and morality. The International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg finally recognised the primacy of the prohibition on planning and waging aggressive war over the absolute sovereignty of the state. Moreover, among some of the lawyers involved in the work of the United Nations War Crimes Commission (UNWCC) there was a conviction which one of them, Hersh Lauterpacht, formulated clearly as follows: ‘... the community of nations has in the past claimed and successfully asserted the right to intercede on behalf of the violated rights of man trampled upon by the State in a manner calculated to shock the moral sense of mankind. The right of humanitarian intervention has for a long time been considered to form part of the law of nations’². With regard to German crimes, he was convinced that the ‘fate of the accused ... serves as irrefutable proof that the scope of exclusive domestic jurisdiction ends where crimes against humanity begin’³.

Ultimately, the dilemma of ‘acting according to the law of the state’ was also resolved by the so-called Radbruch Formula. Its author proceeded from the premise that if the international community wanted to reckon with German crimes, which were committed according to criteria of legality but completely ignored elementary principles of morality, it could not resort to state law, as it did not provide for, or even prevent, such a reckoning. On the basis of a Roman jurisprudential maxim, Radbruch formulated the principle henceforth known in law as the Radbruch Formula: lex iniustissima non est lex, which can be translated as: a grossly unjust law is not a law. Thus, the law established by the legitimate government of the German Reich, by the fact of drastically violating natural law, became, according to Radbruch, a highly unjust law and therefore not valid. In the end, therefore, a sense of justice proved more important than dogmatic adherence to principles. It should also be stressed that this approach was also fostered by European public opinion, agitated by the evidence of war-time crimes being successively revealed.

For lawyers dealing with international law, this was one of the greatest dilemmas in history, concerning not only the application of principles, but above all the place of morals and values in international law. The legal interpretation that eventually prevailed at Nuremberg also makes it possible to try contemporary war criminals from the former Yugoslavia or Rwanda, among others. The undermining of the positivist conception of law by the premises contained in Radbruch formula made it possible to move beyond the dichotomy of the dispute: justice for the victors versus impunity for the perpetrators. Article 8 of the IMT Charter finally recognised that acting on the orders of a government or superior did not absolve criminal responsibility, although it may result in leniency. It was also emphasised that in the event of a conflict between national and international law the individual has a duty to comply with the latter, as in such a situation national law is not binding on the citizen.

Lex retro non agit!
The Nuremberg trials introduced new categories of crimes: ‘against humanity’ and “waging aggressive war” (against peace), which were not clearly defined in international law before the war. The so-called retroactivity of these provisions, i.e. the violation of two legal principles: nullum crimen sine lege (nulla poena sine lege) and lex retro non agit, was questionable. Since the legal terms themselves - crimes against humanity and crimes against peace - appeared after they had been committed by Nazi Germans, many legal scholars doubted whether the fundamental principles of law were being violated when trying war criminals. Disputes over the principle and interpretation of retroactivity also took place among the jurists of the IMT, including between the head of the American delegation, Robert H. Jackson, who believed that it was more important to try the criminals than to doubt the lex retro principle, and the advisor to the French delegation, Prof. André Gros, who had a lot of doubts on this issue.

In the end, Article 6 of the IMT Charter included the following provision: ‘The following acts, or any of them, are crimes coming within the jurisdiction of the Tribunal for which there shall be individual responsibility’. Article 6 was followed by a list of international crimes, including participation in a war of aggression and participation in a conspiracy (collusion) to commit one of the crimes against peace.

A witness at the Nuremberg trials, the Bavarian Social Democrat Wilhelm Hoegner, summarised these contentions as follows: ‘I remain of the opinion that the Nuremberg trials were contrary to the legal principle of nulla poena sine lege. After all, there were extraordinary circumstances, and this trial was the only chance to settle accounts with the criminal Nazi gang.’

Procedural objections and moral relativism
During the trials, the prosecutors were themselves a party to the conflict, so it was easy to formulate allegations of a lack of independence. The Tribunal was a military court with representatives of four powers, representing four different cultures and legal traditions (continental system, common law system, Soviet law). The jurists did not adopt any catalogue of procedural rules under which the proceedings were to take place, although it is clear that American law had the greatest influence on the final shape of the trial. The four powers did, however, reach a compromise on the application of substantive law, i.e. the legal norms applied before the tribunal.

The absence of a two-instance system, i.e. the possibility of an appeal against the verdict, was questionable. This was a political decision, motivated primarily by the Tribunal’s mode of work (ad hoc tribunal) ⁴. The political authorities wanted to try the defendants relatively quickly and definitively, hence the decision to make the verdicts final and indisputable. In view of the beginning of the Cold War, lengthy trials could be seen as a tool of the game between the Western Allies and the Soviets.

Some of the objections to the trials are of a more ethical nature, although to some extent they also relate to procedure, e.g. jury selection or unequal access to trial information. One can paraphrase the title of this text and write that the Themis at Nuremberg was one-eyed - she saw the German crimes but not the Soviet ones. Moreover, the Soviet lawyers at Nuremberg were themselves implicated in the crimes of the Soviet system. Morally, such a situation is of course unacceptable, but politically, under the circumstances, there was no alternative. The fact that there were Soviet lawyers, primarily judges, meant that much of the evidence of Soviet crimes, for example the Soviet aggression against Poland or the case of the Katyn massacre, was dismissed and the evidence was regarded as falsification.

German defenders often referred to the principle et tu quoque (Latin for ‘and you too’), an attempt to point out that the accusing Allies had themselves committed similar acts for which they accused German leaders. The defence counsels argued that German bombings of, for example, Coventry or London, were no different from Allied raids on Dresden or Leipzig. Similar allegations were made about the murder of German prisoners of war especially by the Soviets. These arguments sought to undermine the moral and legal legitimacy of the Tribunal.

The diversity of the verdicts, including the acquittal of some defendants, may be indicative of the fairness and insight of the Tribunal, which reflected on the individual guilt of each defendant. However, upon closer inspection of the judges’ behind-the-scenes deliberations, this picture is no longer so clear-cut. After the disclosure of Judge Biddle’s personal notes (thirty years after the Nuremberg trials), the bargaining over the sentences to be handed down came to light. This only confirms the primacy of politics over justice, perhaps better described as a ‘synergy of politics and justice’.

Criminals behind the desk and executors of orders
A phenomenon of the National Socialist system was the fact of the ‘total mobilisation’ of German society and the massive support given to Hitler. ⁵ That was support of the simple worker and the farmer, but also members of scientific and intellectual elites and by representatives of large industrial concerns. Ultimately, they created a system that organised a powerful machine of violence and extermination during the Second World War. The number of NSDAP membership cards issued reached 10.7 million, meaning that one in five adult Germans belonged to the Nazi party. As many as 17.3 million soldiers served in the Wehrmacht from 1939 to 1945 (of whom 15.6 million were Germans and Austrians). The most conservative estimate by German historians of the Wehrmacht’s involvement in the atrocities - particularly on the Eastern Front - is 5%; this would mean that more than 700,000 soldiers may have committed them. If we add to these figures members of SS formations, officials of the SS Race and Settlement Main Office, and representatives of large industrial concerns supporting Hitler, we get a picture of the entanglement and scale of support given to Hitler by the German people. In December 1963, 22 members of the Auschwitz staff stood trial in Frankfurt am Main. Already in the indictment, prosecutor Fritz Bauer pre-empted the defence arguments, writing: ‘It was not the case that there was only Nazi Hitler and only Nazi Himmler in Germany. There were hundreds of thousands, millions of others who carried it out not only because they were ordered to do so, but also because it corresponded to their own world view, which they adopted voluntarily.’ The Allies cannot be accused of trying only the most important representatives of the Third Reich at Nuremberg, because that was precisely the purpose of the trial. The selection of those who would sit on the dock was not only a matter of justice, but above all a matter of politics. The German Reich was to be tried at Nuremberg, represented by people from various institutions and spheres of life (from political activists, propagandists, military commanders to representatives of the business community). It is worth remembering that the main perpetrators escaped responsibility by committing suicide (Hitler, Goebbels, Himmler) or by fleeing abroad (Eichmann and Mengele, among others). The purpose of the trial was to develop the legal basis and jurisprudence that was later to be used by the courts before which lesser functionaries of the Nazi regime were to be tried. Of course, it should be remembered that the conflict between the Western powers and the Soviet Union dubbed the Cold War effectively rendered the planned denazification and trial of criminals impossible.

When it came to trying the guilty, a much more serious issue was that of ‘behind-the-scenes perpetrators’ who had not directly committed the crimes. This dilemma also applied to some commanders of concentration and death camps who themselves had not participated in the crimes directly. The resolution of this dilemma was all the more pressing because even before or during the Nuremberg trials, others were still taking place before American and British courts. ⁶

To resolve similar dilemmas, the concept of a multi-person crime, involving ‘taking part’ in a joint action, was used. This concept should not be confused with collective responsibility. The perpetrator of a multi-person international crime could have been an organisation, such as the SS, the Gestapo or even a specific ministry. In both Britain and the United States, there were legal constructs to try people who did not commit crimes directly. These were the concepts of collusion and conspiracy. Prior to the war, these were primarily used to try organised crime or economic crime, such as the Mafia. In this case, we are dealing with a plurality of perpetrators accused of jointly committing the crime, so the prosecution had to prove that the accused participated in a joint plan and had knowledge of its criminal objectives. The adoption of such premise in the trial of German criminals also made it possible to consider the very membership of certain organisations as participation in a conspiracy to wage a war of aggression. Such a concept was pushed by the American lawyer Murrey C. Bernays as early as 1944, as he submitted successive memoranda to the American government suggesting the use of the concept of conspiracy (collusion) to try not only individuals, but also organisations such as the Gestapo, SS, or SA. He suggested that a tribunal to try war criminals should link the criminal acts to the doctrine and policies of the Third Reich. Ultimately, the indictments and sentences in trials held even before the Nuremberg trials used the concept of a common plan/design, aiming at aggression or domination of other nations. The British used this concept in the trial of the Bergen-Belsen staff, and in November 1945, in the Almelo trial, a British military court explicitly stated that the ‘responsibility of the members of the group is equal to that of the man who fired the actual shot’.

This concept provoked fierce protests from lawyers outside the common law circle, including the French, who insisted on adherence to the continental principle of individual criminal responsibility. However, it was acknowledged that ‘aggression is by definition a multi-person crime, so the doctrine of conspiracy does not substantially increase the burden on defendants’. The prosecutors in the Nuremberg trials eventually formulated four charges, the first of which concerned participation in the creation and execution of a common plan, i.e. a conspiracy aimed at crimes against peace, war crimes and crimes against humanity. The prosecution team wanted to show that this conspiracy had been formed many years before the outbreak of war, namely its beginning in 1919, when the NSDAP was founded. The indictment emphasised a close connection between the charge of conspiracy and the commission of crimes against peace. Anyone who was to be convicted of participation in a conspiracy or a crime against peace had to be proven to have participated in a specific war of aggression.

The solution finally adopted allowed the leaders of the German Reich to be tried at Nuremberg and was reflected in the Charter of the IMT (Article 6): ‘The Tribunal ... shall have the power to try and punish persons who, acting in the interests of the European Axis countries, whether as individuals or as members of organizations, committed any of the following crimes: (...)planning, preparation, initiation or waging of a war of aggression, or a war in violation of international treaties, agreements or assurances, or participation in a common plan or conspiracy for the accomplishment of any of the foregoing’. At the same time, Article 7 emphasised that ‘The official position of defendants, whether as Heads of State or responsible officials in Government Departments, shall not be considered as freeing them from responsibility or mitigating punishment’. Finally, the Nuremberg principles recognised that the preparation of a(n) (war of) aggression was a conspiracy involving participation in preparatory activities leading to aggression or awareness of the existence of a plan of aggression.

Related to the above issue is also the problem of acting on orders, which primarily concerns members of military organisations, but also officers of paramilitary formations. This is a particularly difficult issue, as the security system of states is largely based on the subordination of the security apparatus and the army. It is difficult to imagine that states would tolerate any subjective assessment of an order by a subordinate. This was the line of defence adopted by many lawyers who defended the German perpetrators, especially military ones (including Alfred Jodl, Wilhelm Keitel, or Erich Raeder). The defendants’ invocation of a ‘no-win situation’ would have meant that any, even worst, acts could be justified. Moreover, as the prosecutor Robert H. Jackson emphasised, ‘Hitler’s decisions would have been of no effect unless they had been carried out by Keitel and Jodl and the other men under him’. The Nuremberg law was based on the primacy of international law over the norms of domestic law in this regard. From the point of view of the law, the mere fact of acting on orders did not absolve the accused from liability; more important in the course of the proceedings were ‘mitigating circumstances’. The average executor of an order was most often not in a position to assess whether the order given to him was in accordance with international law or not, and therefore whether he could refuse to obey it. On the other hand, he was certainly convinced that the order was in accordance with German law and therefore legal, because under the Nazi system, as underscored by the defence lawyer at the Nuremberg trial Hermann Jahrreiß: ‘Hitler’s order was already a law before the Second World War (...). The Führer’s order was binding, that is legally binding’. The trials assessed whether the executor was aware of the criminal nature of the order or of the consequences of carrying it out and whether he had a realistic possibility of refusing to carry out the order. While both of these aspects may have been possible mitigating circumstances, they did not release one from responsibility in accordance with Article 8 of the IMT Charter: ‘The fact that the Defendant acted pursuant to order of his Government or of a superior shall not free him from responsibility, but may be considered in mitigation of punishment if the Tribunal determines that justice so requires’. For the sake of completeness, it is worth adding that paragraph 47 of the 1872 Reich Code, which was in force during the First and Second World Wars, contained a regulation with regard to acting on orders. The provision of interest to us reads: ‘A subordinate who obeys an order shall be liable to punishment if it was known to him that his superior’s order concerned an action whose purpose was a common or military offence’. So the Nuremberg regulations on this issue were largely in line with the German law hitherto in force.

Impact on post-war reconstruction
The Nuremberg trials, but also other trials of German criminals, were not received with much enthusiasm by their fellow countrymen. From a psychological point of view, this should not be surprising. The reluctance to settle accounts with the past meant the unwillingness to admit guilt. The mechanisms of denial were similar to other such cases; above all, the past was not talked about. Blame was shifted to others, leaders who behaved cowardly and committed suicide were accused, leaving the nation at the mercy of the victors. Crimes were explained by following orders, acting in accordance with the German law of the time. It was repeated that the German people had no idea of the crimes.

The attitude of the Germans to the Nazi past, but also to reckoning with it, can be traced quite accurately thanks to opinion polls taken during these years. The Office of Military Government for Germany (U.S.) (OMGUS) set up a special department for surveys in the American occupation zone, later extending their reach to other western zones and sectors of Berlin. Between 1945 and 1949, more than 70 surveys were carried out on large groups of respondents. Replying to the question about the guilt of the defendants tried at Nuremberg, respondents in the American occupation zone answered as follows: in 1945, 70% answered that they were guilty, in 1946, guilt was acknowledged by 75% of the respondents, but in August 1946, only 52% believed that the defendants were guilty. After the verdict was pronounced, 55% of the respondents thought the sentence was fair and 21% thought it was too lenient. When asked in October 1946 about the collective guilt of the Germans for the war (Kriegsschuld), as many as 92% of Germans answered that they were not guilty and 51% were willing to consider that those Germans who supported Hitler’s regime were partly to blame (Teilschuld). As many as 83% of Germans believed that ‘both sides’ fighting in the war had committed crimes against peace and against humanity.

It is fundamentally misguided to consider the Nuremberg trials from an ex-post perspective as a factor in deepening the post-war divisions in Germany by focusing on retaliation rather than reconciliation. Historical experience shows that the absence of a form of response to evil must result in a large-scale undermining of pro-justice convictions. A sense of harm, a failure to punish perpetrators, a fundamental sense of injustice can cause concrete losses and deficits both politically and socially. The sense of injustice gives rise to the desire for revenge (e.g. the conflict in Rwanda in the 1990s, or today’s post-colonial movements). In the short term, the processes may have deepened internal divisions in Germany and internationally. The focus on punishing the guilty without creating space for dialogue made some Germans feel that they were victims of the victors rather than partners in the construction of the post-war order. However, the long-term effects were unequivocally positive. The process helped solidify universal principles of accountability for war crimes and became the foundation for modern international law. It also contributed to the democratisation of West Germany and its integration into the West.

The years following the Second World War were an example of the implementation of so-called transitional justice in the Western occupation zones. The ultimate goal of such a process is a reform of institutions, social reconciliation and the prevention of future human rights violations. However, the path to this goal first leads through the use of legal mechanisms (courts, tribunals, commissions for crime prosecution) to hold perpetrators accountable and redress the wrongs of the victims. The legacy of Nuremberg continues to influence contemporary discussions about how to reconcile justice with the need to ‘heal the wounds of conflict’.

Summary
To put it in the language of political realism - the Nuremberg trials were a tool adequate for its time. The IMT was hostage to the political situation, but there was no other alternative at the time.

A breakthrough achievement was the introduction of the principle that individuals, not states, could be held responsible for war crimes and crimes against humanity. This marked a major change in international criminal law.

Although today no-one questions the Nuremberg principles and, moreover, we are able to appreciate the achievements of the IMT with the benefit of hindsight and, unfortunately, subsequent crimes perpetrated elsewhere (Yugoslavia, Rwanda, Russia), it is worth remembering the enormous controversy that surrounded the very idea of an ‘international court’. Discussions among lawyers, which took place even before the decision to set up the Nuremberg Tribunal, could have led to a stalemate in which international justice would have judged only the direct executors of the crimes, but would have been powerless against the decision-makers who gave the orders that resulted in genocide. The very fact of the establishment of the IMT ended speculation on this aspect, and although doubts and controversy have remained, the decision itself regarding the establishment of the IMT is not challenged now.

NOTES
¹ When writing about the anarchic international system what I have in mind is Hobbes’ perception of the international system as a world ‘without Leviathan’, that is with no supreme power over sovereign nation states.
² A British lawyer of Polish-Jewish origin residing in England since 1923. He played a major part in forming a catalogue of crimes judged by the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg. He co-created the term ‘crime against humanity’.
³ This view was presented in the closing statement of the British prosecutor in Nuremberg Hartley Shawcross, whose speeches were written by Lauterpacht; Quoted after: A. Bryl, Zbrodnie przeciwko ludzkości…, op. cit., pp. 50–61, here: 56–57.
⁴ An ad hoc tribunal, i.e. one set up temporarily to try and punish a specific crime and specific persons.
⁵ The term ‘total mobilisation’ was formulated by Ernst Jünger in his 1930 essay Die totale Mobilmachung.He notes that conflict has ceased to be a domain of professional armies and elites, to become a confrontation between entire societies, involving each social stratum and each aspect of life.
⁶ The biggest of them were trials of the staff of KL Bergen- Belsen (17 October–17 November 1945), KL Dachau (15 November–13 December 1945) and KL Mauthausen-Gusen (29 March–13 May 1946).

In a world overshadowed by terror and brutality, the story of Józef and Wiktoria Ulma and their six young children shines as a beacon of humanity and moral clarity. Living in the quiet village of Markowa in southeastern Poland during the dark years of the Holocaust, the Ulmas epitomized the extraordinary courage of ordinary people. Risking everything, they sheltered eight Jewish neighbours in their modest home, defying the oppressive machinery of Nazi Germany. Their ultimate sacrifice—losing their lives and those of their children—stands as a profound testament to the power of empathy and faith in the face of unimaginable danger.

Rooted in Humility, Elevated by Vision
In the serene village of Markowa in southeastern Poland, Józef and Wiktoria Ulma were a beacon of resilience, intellect, and humanity. Their lives, though marked by simplicity, were extraordinary in their depth and purpose. Józef, born in 1900, was a man of immense curiosity and practical genius. Despite having only four years of formal education and six months at an agricultural school, he transcended his humble beginnings. His interests were vast, ranging from horticulture to photography. Józef established Markowa’s first fruit tree nursery, constructed a home wind turbine for electricity, and captured village life with his camera, creating an invaluable visual archive. He exemplified a peasant intelligentsia—a man deeply tied to the land yet yearning for intellectual growth.
Wiktoria, born in 1912, was equally remarkable. Orphaned at a young age, she displayed resilience and a zest for life, attending courses at a local Folk High School and engaging in cultural activities like village theatre. Together, the Ulmas created a household filled with love, learning, and faith. Parents to six children and expecting a seventh, their lives revolved around nurturing not only their family but also their community.

A World Turned Dark: The German Occupation
Before the Second World War, Markowa was a quiet, close-knit community of about 4,500 residents, including around 120 Jews. While cultural and religious differences meant that Polish and Jewish residents lived somewhat parallel lives, relations were amicable. Jewish families in Markowa primarily engaged in trade and farming, their children attending schools alongside Polish peers. Religious gatherings often took place in nearby Łańcut, at a synagogue that likely welcomed the Goldman family—the very neighbors the Ulmas would later risk everything to protect.
The peaceful life of the Ulmas and their neighbours shattered with the German invasion of Poland in 1939. For the Jewish community of Markowa the occupation brought swift and devastating oppression. Early restrictions, such as wearing the Star of David, escalated into forced labour, deportations, and mass executions. By 1942, ‘Operation Reinhardt’ sought to exterminate the Jewish population in the General Government area, leaving Jewish families in Markowa desperate for refuge.
Markowa fell under the jurisdiction of brutal German and local collaborators, including the infamous Konstanty Kindler, a volksdeutsch known for his ruthlessness. Daily life became a litany of terror: curfews, forced labour, and deportations were commonplace. The Jewish residents, targeted with relentless persecution, were subjected to confiscations, ghettos, and ultimately, extermination.
The Ulmas, known for their kindness and connection to local Jewish families, did not hesitate. In December 1942, they opened their modest home to eight Jews: Saul Goldman, his four sons, two daughters, and a young child. For over a year, these individuals lived hidden within the Ulmas’ home, sharing the family’s meagre resources. Such an act of defiance carried the ultimate risk; under the German Nazi decrees, anyone aiding Jews faced immediate execution, a punishment that extended to entire households.

The Tragedy That Silenced Markowa
The Ulmas’ courageous choice to protect their Jewish neighbours did not remain a secret. Suspicion grew as the family purchased unusually large quantities of food, arousing local curiosity. In March 1944, the German authorities were tipped off—likely by Włodzimierz Leś, a collaborator who had previously extorted and betrayed Jews in the area.
In the early hours of March 24, German gendarmes and local collaborators arrived at the Ulma home. The brutality was swift and unrelenting. The eight Jewish individuals hiding in the house were executed immediately. Józef and Wiktoria were then dragged outside and shot. As Wiktoria fell, in the throes of childbirth, the executioners made a harrowing decision: they would kill the children too. Eight-year-old Stanisława, six-year-old Barbara, five-year-old Władysław, four-year-old Franciszek, three-year-old Antoni, and 1.5-year-old Maria were all executed. In an instant, 17 lives were extinguished, including Wiktoria’s unborn child.
The massacre did not end with death. The perpetrators looted the Ulma farm and held a macabre celebration at the site of the execution. The villagers of Markowa were forced to bury the dead, creating two graves—one for the Ulmas and another for the Jews they had sheltered. The tragedy left an indelible scar on the community.

The Aftermath: Injustice and Memory
The perpetrators of the Markowa massacre largely escaped justice. While Włodzimierz Leś was executed by the Polish Underground in 1944, the German commander, Eilert Dieken, lived out his post-war years as a respected citizen in Lower Saxony, untouched by accountability. Josef Kokott, another participant, was eventually tried and sentenced to death in Poland, though his sentence was later commuted to life imprisonment. He died in prison in 1980.
The Ulmas, however, were not forgotten. In 1995, Yad Vashem honored Józef and Wiktoria as Righteous Among the Nations. Their names joined a sacred list of those who risked everything to save Jews during the Holocaust. In 2016, a museum dedicated to Poles who rescued Jews during World War II was opened in Markowa, bearing the Ulma family’s name. Each year, March 24 is observed as the National Day of Remembrance of Poles Saving Jews Under German Occupation, a tribute to their sacrifice and the bravery of others like them.

Faith in Action: The Ulmas’ Moral Compass
The Ulmas were guided by an unshakable faith. Their well-worn Bible contained underlined passages from the parable of the Good Samaritan and the commandment to love one’s neighbour, reflecting the principles that shaped their actions. These were not mere ideals; they were convictions put into practice, even at the cost of their lives. Their choice to shelter Jews was an act of profound moral courage, rooted in love and a sense of shared humanity.
The family’s beatification by the Catholic Church in 2023 underscores their spiritual legacy. While their recognition as Righteous Among the Nations resonates deeply within Jewish memory, their elevation to sainthood amplifies their story on a global scale, reminding Catholics and non-Catholics alike of the universal values they represent: compassion, sacrifice, and unwavering moral clarity.

A Symbol of Universal Values
What makes the Ulmas’ story uniquely compelling is not just the magnitude of their sacrifice but the life they led before their tragic end. Józef and Wiktoria were not wealthy, educated elites, but rather a humble couple driven by intellectual curiosity, strong faith, and a sense of communal responsibility. They cultivated their farm, raised their children, and enriched their village through Józef’s photography, ingenuity, and activism. Their decision to protect others in a time of extreme peril was not born of wealth or privilege but of an extraordinary humanity that transcended fear.
The Ulma family’s story transcends national and religious boundaries. It is a testament to the enduring power of human dignity in the face of unspeakable evil. Like Jan Karski and Witold Pilecki, the Ulmas stand as symbols of resistance and humanity during one of history’s darkest chapters. Their legacy challenges us to reflect on our own capacity for courage and compassion.
Today, as their names appear in museums, textbooks, and prayers, the Ulmas remind the world that even in the bleakest times, ordinary people can achieve extraordinary heroism. Their story is not merely one of martyrdom but a beacon of hope and a call to action for future generations.

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References:
"Wiktoria and Józef Ulma - Meet the Ulma Family The Ulma family from Markowa (Institute of National Remembrance)
"Historia rodziny Ulmów, dzień w którym ich zamordowano został ustanowiony Narodowym Dniem Pamięci Polaków Ratujących Żydów pod okupacją niemiecką. (Oddział Instytutu Pamięci Narodowej w Rzeszowie)
"Biografia - Błogosławiona Rodzina Ulmów, Józef i Wiktoria oraz siedmioro ich dzieci

Before the war

30 January 1933 Adolf Hitler becomes the Chancellor of Germany.
22 March 1933 First German concentration camp created in Dachau, Germany.
25 November 1936 Nazi Germany and Japan sign the Anti-Comintern Pact, directed against communism and the USSR. Italy joins the pact in 1937.
7 July 1937 Japanese attack on China, beginning of the Japanese-Chinese War.
12 March 1938 Anschluss of Austria. Austria is incorporated into Germany.
30 September 1938 Munich Agreement – part of Czechoslovakia is incorporated by Germany. To keep the peace European powers agreed to Hitler’s demands.

1939

14 March 1939 Slovakia supported by Germany declares independence from Czechoslovakia. On 15 March Germany invades Czechoslovakia and establishes the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia.
3 May 1939 Stalin replaced Maxim Litvinov, Soviet Commissar for Foreign Affairs, who was identified with the anti-German position. This was a significant move to improve the relations between the Soviet Union and Germany.
23 August 1939 - The Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact was signed. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union agreed not to attack each other and to remain neutral if attacked by a third power. Secret clauses in the pact divided up other countries into respective spheres of influence in Central and Eastern Europe, including a partitioning of Poland.
1 September 1939 German attack on Poland, triggering the Second World War.
3 September 1939 UK and France declare war on Germany.
17 September 1939 USSR attack on Poland and the incorporation of its eastern borderlands, more than one-half of Polish territory.
28 September 1939 Capitulation of Warsaw, German occupation of the western half of Poland.
8 October 1939 The Piotrków Trybunalski Ghetto (Yiddish: פּיִעטריקאָװ) was created in Piotrków Trybunalski. It was the first Nazi ghetto in occupied Europe.

1940

9 April – 10 June 1940 German attack on Denmark and Norway, beginning the German occupation of these countries
13 March 1940 After the Winter War with Finland (30.11.39-13.03.40) the USSR incorporates some important territories but fails to create a Finish SSR.
10 May – 25 June 1940 Battle of France. German attack on France, Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg, which fall under German occupation.
June 1940 USSR incorporates the Baltic States.
26 May – 4 June 1940 The Dunkirk evacuation of Allied soldiers from France.
22 June 1940 Germany defeated France. In the southern half of France, Germany created a puppet French State (État français) – so-called Vichy France.
28 June 1940 the Soviet Union started the occupation of Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina.
10 July – 31 October 1940 Battle of Britain. UK’s successful defence against German air force attacks.

1941

11 March 1941 Lend-Lease policy – USA’s financial and military aid for the countries fighting the Axis.
20 May – 1 June 1941 The German invaded Crete, Greece
22 June 1941 Germany launches operation Barbarossa. USSR joins the Allies after German attack.
8 September 1941 The start of the German siege of Leningrad.
2 October 1941 – 7 January 1942 Battle of Moscow. Soviets fend off an attack by the German army. Start of the Soviet counteroffensive in the centre and northern front.
7 December 1941 Attack on Pearl Harbor by Japanese.
8 December 1941 The United States enter the war.
9 December 1941 China joins the Allies against the Axis.

1942

1 January 1942 Declaration of the United Nations signed by the Big Four (USA, UK, USSR and China). The document formalized the alliance against the Axis and was a basis for the United Nations.
20 January 1942 Wannsee Conference. 15 senior officials of Nazi Germany met to ensure all administrative leaders about implementing of the “Final Solution (die Endlösung) to the Jewish Question”. As a result a network of extermination camps was built in which millions of Jews were murdered.
4 – 8 May 1942 Pacific War: Battle of the Coral Sea. Naval battle between Japanese and American-Australian forces. Allied forces stop the Japanese advance into the Pacific.
4 – 7 June 1942 Battle of Midway. American victory against Japan in a naval and air battle. First and decisive American victory in the Pacific War.
7 August 1942 – 9 February 1943 Guadalcanal Campaign. Major Allied victory over Japan in a series of land battles. Start of the American offensive in the Pacific.
23 October – 11 November 1942 Second battle of El-Alamain. Important victory of the Allies against the Axis in North Africa.
8–16 November 1942 Operation Torch. Allied invasion of North Africa (Casablanca, Oran and Algiers) controlled by Vichy France. Results in Allied victory.
22–26 November 1942 First Cairo Conference. Chiang Kaishek, Churchill and Roosevelt discussed fighting Japan until its unconditional surrender and seized territories had been reclaimed.

1943

14 – 24 January 1943 Casablanca Conference. Churchill, Roosevelt and de Gaulle decided to fight until an unconditional surrender (without any guarantees to the defeated party) of Germany.
19 April – 16 May 1943 Warsaw Ghetto uprising. Casualties: up to 40,000 insurgents and civilians.
17 July 1942 – 2 February 1943 Battle of Stalingrad. Soviet victory over Germany – the turning point of the war on the eastern front.
5 July – 23 August 1943 Battle of Kursk. Soviet victory over Germany. Start of the Red Army offensive on the Eastern front.
10 July – 8 September 1943 Allied attack on Sicily. The southern part of Italy falls under Allied rule.
28 November – 1 December 1943 Tehran Conference. First meeting of the Big Three – Churchill (UK), Roosevelt (USA) and Stalin (USSR).The leaders decided to open a new front in France.

1944

17 January – 18 May 1944 Battle of Monte Cassino. Allied victory over Axis forces in Italy.
27 January 1944 End of the siege of Leningrad. Over two year-long (900 days) siege causes mass death from starvation of almost 1,000,000 civilians. Finally, the Soviets lift the siege of the city.
6 June – 31 August 1944 Operation Overlord. Landing in Normandy and Allied offensive in France.
20 July 1944 20 July plot. Germany army officer, Claus von Stauffenberg attempted to kill Hitler by detonating an explosive hidden in a briefcase, however failed due to the location of the bomb at the time of detonation, the blast only dealing minor injuries to Hitler.
23 July 1944 Liberation of Majdanek Extermination Camp. On the night of 22-23 July 1944, Soviet soldiers of the Red Army came upon Majdanek, the first of the Nazi camps to be liberated. They freed just under 500 prisoners.
1 August – 2 October 1944 Warsaw Uprising. Casualties: 150–180,000 insurgents and civilians. Insurgents were not helped by Soviet forces stationed on the right bank of the Vistula River.
15 August 1944 Operation Dragoon. Allied attack on southern France.
19–25 August 1944 Uprising in Paris, followed by liberation of the city by the Western Allies. Casualities: 1–1,300 insurgents and civilians.
29 August – 28 October 1944 Uprising in Slovakia. Casualties: 4,000 insurgents and civilians
17 October – 26 December 1944 Battle of Leyte. Allied victory, first step in freeing the Philippines from Japanese occupation.

1945

27 January 1945 Liberation of Auschwitz concentration camp. The German Nazi concentration camp and extermination camp in occupied Poland where more than a million people were murdered as part of the Nazis' "Final Solution" to the Jewish question—was liberated by the Soviet Red Army during the Vistula–Oder Offensive.
12 January – 4 February 1945 Red Army winter offensive. Soviets capture Poland west of the Vistula River and advance on Berlin.
4–11 February 1945 Yalta Conference where the Big Three decided on the division of Germany into four occupation zones and set the Polish eastern border on the Curzon line. The conference effectively allowed the USSR to expand its sphere of influence to Central Europe.
13–15 February 1945 Allied bombing of Dresden. It completely destroys the city and causes the death of thousands of civilians.
16 April – 2 May 1945 Battle of Berlin. Soviet victory and fall of Nazi Germany.
5–9 May 1945 Uprising in Prague. Casualties: 8–9,000 insurgents and civilians.
8 May 1945 Unconditional surrender of Germany. The end of war in Europe.
25 April – 26 June 1945 San Francisco Conference and foundation of the United Nations.
17 July – 2 August 1945 Potsdam Conference where the Big Three established rules by which the Allies would govern Germany, set the new borders of Germany and Poland, decided on the resettlement of Germans and called on Japan to surrender.
6 August 1945 First American nuclear attack on Hiroshima, Japan.
9 August 1945 Second and last American nuclear attack, on Nagasaki, Japan. Soviet attack on Manchukuo (Japanese puppet state) in Manchuria.
2 September 1945 Unconditional surrender of Japan. The end of war in the Pacific theatre.
20 November 1945 Nuremberg trials of The International Military Tribunal.

1946

5 March 1946 Iron Curtain Speech - Winston Churchill delivers his famous "Iron Curtain" speech in Fulton, Missouri, marking the beginning of the Cold War era and highlighting the division between Western democracies and Eastern communist states.
19 September 1946 Churchill’s speech in Zurich, stressing the role of a united Europe.

1947

12 March 1947 Truman Doctrine Announced - President Harry S. Truman articulates the Truman Doctrine, pledging to support Greece and Turkey against communist expansion, which signifies the start of the U.S. policy of containment.
5 June 1947 Marshall Plan Proposed - Secretary of State George Marshall outlines the European Recovery Program, known as the Marshall Plan, which provides economic assistance to rebuild Western European economies.

Every year since 2013, the ENRS has marked the European Day of Remembrance for the Victims of Totalitarian Regimes on the anniversary of the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact on August 23, 1939. What is the meaning of a commemorative pin and the media campaign “Remember. August 23”? What makes this date so significant? Agnieszka Mazur-Olczak explains its importance in European history and in our calendar.

The European Day of Remembrance for Victims of Totalitarian Regimes was first commemorated on 23 August 2011 in Warsaw, under the auspices of the Polish Presidency. During this event, the Warsaw Declaration was signed, in which the signatories emphasised the importance of maintaining the memory of the criminal consequences of totalitarian regimes in the consciousness of Europeans and called on the EU to support, research, and collect documentation related to the crimes committed by these regimes.

The Warsaw Declaration was signed a year after the ENRS was founded. In 2013, our organisation first conceived the idea of how to commemorate August 23. We decided to create a pin that would serve as a symbol of remembrance for the victims of totalitarianism.

Why is the ENRS so committed to spreading awareness about this date?

Our core mission is to foster a shared memory of the difficult history of the 20th century. These two regimes significantly marked that history, which is why, from the very beginning, the ENRS recognised that August 23 is an important day for us and that we should be strongly involved in its commemoration. We have always been aware that this date is not deeply rooted in the memory of Western Europeans, as they were not as severely affected by the communist regime. As a result, August 23 is not a date that the West associates with the outbreak of the Second World War. However, it is impossible to talk about the Second World War without mentioning August 23, because it was the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact that paved the way for these totalitarian regimes. It allowed them to temporarily suspend military actions against each other while simultaneously enabling them to wreak destruction on the territories they divided between themselves.

What is the 'Remember. August 23' campaign about?

When the project was launched in 2013, our colleagues developed an idea of a pin and an informative note. The design of the pin refers to International Black Ribbon Day, which has been observed since 1986. The note explains what this date symbolises and why it is so significant in the history of Europe, and even the world. The note from 2013 featured a collage of images of selected victims from both totalitarian regimes, which we obtained from archives. Over the years, we have modified the design of the card. The next edition had an educational dimension, presenting a map that showed the spread of both totalitarian regimes across Europe, following the division line established by the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact. This map became the main motif of our project for several years. Based on it, we created a short animation where red and black colours sweep across Europe. This simple graphic trick perfectly illustrated what happened at that time, which is why the animation is still frequently used by the media and shown at conferences commemorating August 23. This year, we diversified our notes by creating twelve versions featuring the heroes of our spots, along with QR codes that lead to our website where people can watch their related stories.

Because we wanted the campaign to become more media-friendly, in 2018, we came up with the idea of creating a series of short films. We collaborated with producer Piotr Kornobis, and this led to the first two scripts telling the stories of Mala and Edek – lovers from Auschwitz – and Peter Mansfeld, the youngest victim of the 1956 uprising in Hungary. These films were very well received by our social media audience. We also managed to air them on several European television programmes. Their success showed us that it was worth continuing the series. We also saw potential in the fact that the European Network is based on partnerships from different countries. We believed that by showcasing the profiles of dissidents from various nationalities, we could collectively commemorate this date, and our partners indeed became very engaged in promoting their stories.

For several years now, we have been sending our pins to various institutions across Europe so that on this day, the public visiting museums and memorial sites can wear the pin as a sign of solidarity with the victims and as a mark of respect for those individuals. Thanks to our media efforts, August 23 has become so recognisable that now institutions are writing to us asking for pins and inquiring whether we have produced a new spot.

What message do the characters featured in the spots want to convey to us?

I think all these films tell us that resistance makes sense. They all tell us that every totalitarian regime, regardless of when it arises, will eventually be overthrown. Each of our characters is different, each story is told differently, but they all share one common denominator: each character has become a symbol of resistance in their country.

The strength of this campaign lies in its diversity. Sometimes the hero speaks to us in the first person. Sometimes their story is told by their mother. Sometimes it’s a letter, as in the case of the film about Milada Horáková, where the narrator reads a letter she wrote to her then fifteen-year-old daughter the day before her execution. Her daughter was only able to read it forty years later.

If you watch these films and you’re a mother, you can identify with the spot about Mansfeld or Milada Horáková. If you are in love and want to focus only on the pleasant things in your life, then the stories of people who couldn’t experience their love in freedom and joy because they were surrounded by a dark world will resonate with you. If you enjoy literature and watch the spot about Jan Kroos, you’ll think about how, for centuries, every totalitarian regime has burned books that were dangerous to them. Everyone, regardless of their country, can find a character in these stories that will touch them and make them want to learn more about them, to understand how and why their fate unfolded the way it did.

The heroes of these films are often people who survived one totalitarian regime during the Second World War, only to be thrown into another by history because they ended up on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain. For instance, the story of Boris Romanchenko resonates most strongly with me. He survived the Second World War and was a prisoner in concentration camps, later living in Ukraine, which was dependent on the Soviet Union, and in 2022 he was killed by a bomb dropped on Putin’s orders. These heroes have qualities that deeply resonate with us.

This year, representatives of the Roma community from Germany and the Czech Republic were added to the gallery of characters. What determined this choice?

In 2015, the European Parliament designated August 2 as the Roma Holocaust Memorial Day. The Roma are a social group that also suffered greatly during the Second World War, and who still face exclusion and discrimination today. When we were searching for Roma heroes, we found that there are very few photographs of them and that their stories are poorly documented because people are not very interested in this topic. We decided it would be good to give them a voice too and to show that, in addition to typical national groups, there is also a community that lives in various countries. We all interact with them, but we are unaware of the tragedy they experienced during the Second World War. This year, we are working on two spots that will premiere in a few days. One of this year's featured figures is Johann Trollmann, a boxer. During the recent Olympics in Paris, we were captivated by the athletes' performances and admired the results of their hard work. Trollmann was also an athlete. What’s more, before the outbreak of the Second World War, he was a huge star in Germany, which ultimately led to his death. We believe it is worth telling this story. In the film, we present a picture of a wonderful young rebel who could have provided many people with the sporting excitement that we all enjoy, admire, and follow. However, Trollmann had to die simply because he was of the wrong race. This is something we should remind people of, because we cannot divide people into those of the right race and those who are not.

Why do we need this campaign? Why now? Why specifically on August 23?

I think that in recent years, there has been a lot of disinformation in the public sphere regarding historical facts. We have seen this recently in speeches at the UN or in Putin’s addresses. I believe that reminding people today of what August 23 represents is to show that this contemporary dictator is moving towards the division of Europe almost along the same line that was drawn in the 1939 pact. Today, it is extremely important to know these heroes and their stories, to remind people that there were individuals who opposed the regime. A short 30-second film cannot tell us the whole story, but it can inspire us to seek out more information and delve into historical facts.

Today, in an age of disinformation and at the same time information overload, we want to use our films to bring a story closer to people and provoke the viewer to read more about it. The biographies of these characters can be found on our website and under each film on our YouTube channel. The most important thing is to understand the historical context. These times are not so distant that they couldn’t return. The truth is, we never know when this Pandora's box might be opened again.

In 2015 the European Parliament declared 2 August as the European Roma Holocaust Memorial Day. Since then, commemorations have been organised in many European countries to remember the victims of the brutal persecution and genocide suffered by the Roma and Sinti during the Second World War. Today, on the 80th anniversary of these events, more than ever, we should remember this tragic part of European history, understand its consequences and strive to ensure that its memory does not disappear from our consciousness.

Discrimination, classification and eugenics: a road to genocide
The genocide of the Roma and Sinti was one of the darkest chapters of the Second World War. Like the Jews, they were victims of the brutal persecution of the Nazi regime. Imprisoned in concentration camps and ghettos, murdered in gas chambers and subjected to other methods of extermination, they became victims of the German Nazi genocide whose mark is still felt in the Roma community today.

Nazi ideology based on racism and eugenics proclaimed the superiority of the Aryan race over others. Due to their cultural difference, the Roma and Sinti were perceived as an ‘inferior race’, ‘undesirable’ and incompatible with the ideal of German society. Because of their nomadic lifestyle, they were described as ‘antisocial’ and ‘criminal’, inherently inclined to commit crimes. They were considered a threat to the purity of the Aryan race and the social order. Already from the early 1930s, the Roma and Sinti in Germany were subjected to discrimination and persecution. Their rights were systematically restricted and racial segregation was introduced.

After Hitler came to power in 1933, the treatment towards them became harsher. Many Roma persons were subjected to forced sterilisation. In the acts implementing the Nuremberg Laws, the Romani were deprived of their civil rights just like Jews. They were subjected to preventive police control and sent to ‘re-education centres’. In 1938, Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS and Gestapo, issued a decree bearing the title ‘Combating the Gypsy Plague’, which stated that the Roma (Gypsies) were a racial and social threat to the German people. The decree ordered the intensification of police and administrative measures against the Sinti and Romani, including their registration, segregation and internment in special camps. This decree formed the basis for mass arrests and internment in existing concentration camps in Germany and Austria, such as Dachau, Bergen-Belsen, Buchenwald, Sachsenhausen, Mauthausen, Mittelbau-Dora, Natzweiler-Struthof, Gross-Rosen and Ravensbrück, for example. New internment and transit camps were also successively created for them. Initially, the Roma and Sinti were forced to wear black triangles, classifying them as ‘antisocial’, or green triangles, denoting ‘professional criminals’. Eventually, they were assigned a brown triangle with the letter Z (Zigeuner, German for ‘Gypsy’). Terrible conditions prevailed in these camps leading to the death of many inmates. Roma prisoners were subjected to pseudo-scientific medical experiments. Conditions in the Berlin-Marzahn, Lackenbach and Salzburg camps were among the worst.

The Romani Holocaust
The first mass persecution took place after the outbreak of the Second World War. On 21 September 1939, Reinhard Heydrich ordered the deportation of 30,000 Roma from Germany and Austria to occupied Poland. In May 1940, some 2,500 Roma were deported to the Lublin District in the General Government (occupied Poland), where they were placed in Jewish ghettos or sent to labour camps. Many of them died as a result of the harsh conditions of forced labour. The rest were most likely later murdered in the gas chambers of Bełżec, Sobibór and Treblinka.

In the autumn of 1941, the German police deported around 5,000 Roma persons from Austria to the Łódź ghetto, where hundreds died from a typhus epidemic and lack of basic necessities. Those who survived were transported to the camp at Kulmhof (Chełmno nad Nerem) in 1942 and were murdered in mobile gas chambers.
In December 1942, Himmler ordered the deportation to KL Auschwitz¹ of all the Roma and Sinti of the Third Reich. They were sent to Auschwitz II–Birkenau and placed in a special section known as the ‘Gypsy camp’ (Zigeunerlager). The conditions there were conducive to the spread of infectious diseases such as typhus, smallpox and dysentery, which significantly reduced the camp population. In addition, pseudo-scientific medical experiments were carried out on them. At the end of March 1943, about 1,700 Roma brought from the Bialystok region were murdered in the gas chambers of Birkenau, and in May 1944 the camp management decided to liquidate the entire ‘Gypsy camp’. SS guards surrounded the camp, but the Roma incarcerated in there, having learned about the SS’s plans, armed themselves, resisted and refused to leave. The SS retreated and decided to first transfer about 3,000 Roma to Auschwitz I and other concentration camps. The final operation aimed at liquidating the ‘Gypsy camp’ took place two months later, on the night of 2–3 August. As a result, some 4,300 Sinti and Roma, mainly the sick, the elderly, women and children, perished in the gas chambers of Birkenau. This mass murder became a symbol of the suffering and heroism of the Roma community, and the date was chosen as International Roma Holocaust Memorial Day. The total number of Romani victims at Auschwitz is estimated to be around 21,000 out of the 23,000 Sinti and Roma deported there.

In German-occupied Europe, the fate of the Roma varied according to local conditions. They were interned, used as forced labourers or killed. Einsatzgruppen units and other mobile units killed the Romani in the Baltic States, occupied Poland and the USSR. In occupied Serbia, Roma men were executed en masse. In France, the Vichy authorities interned thousands of Roma, and in Romania some 26,000 were deported to Transnistria, where many died of disease and starvation. In Croatia, the Ustasha regime killed almost the entire Roma population, some 25,000 people.

The scale of the crime and the fight for genocide recognition
The exact number of the Sinti and Roma who died during the Second World War remains unknown due to the lack of accurate data on their number living in Europe before the war and the relatively late international recognition of this genocide. It is estimated that before the war the Romani population was between 1 and 1.5 million. Historians estimate that at least 250,000 European Sinti and Roma were killed by the Germans and their allies, although some scholars suggest that the number could be as high as 500,000.

The Nazi genocide destroyed numerous Roma communities, and the Romani suffered psychological and physical trauma, making it difficult to rebuild their cultural and social networks. After the war, however, discrimination against the Roma continued. Throughout Europe, they continued to experience various forms of discrimination, both institutional and of a social nature. These diverse forms of discrimination had a long-lasting impact on the Roma in Europe, perpetuating their marginalisation and social exclusion.

Unlike the genocide of Jews, that of the Roma was not recognised immediately after the war. The courts in West Germany, for example, ruled that actions taken against the Roma before 1943 were legal, which closed the way to compensation for the thousands of victims who were imprisoned, forcibly sterilised and deported. Police harassment and discrimination continued and the post-war authorities seized the Nazi regime’s files. It was not until 1965 that German law recognised that acts of persecution prior to 1943 were racially motivated, allowing Roma to claim compensation. However, many of those able to do so had already died. It was only in March 1982 that the German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt officially recognised the German Sinti and Roma as victims of genocide.

‘Porajmos’, Holocaust and ‘Samudaripen’
Today there are many terms used to describe the extermination of the Roma. Some of them are the subject of ongoing discussions and debates. This situation demonstrates the different perspectives and approaches to this tragedy not only by researchers and organisations working on the subject, but also by the Roma communities themselves.

The term ‘Porajmos’, meaning ‘devouring’ or ‘burning’, was introduced by the scholar Ian Hancock in the 1990s to describe the Romani genocide. However, its use is controversial, as in some dialects it denotes ‘rape’, which many Roma find offensive.

Another term is ‘Samudaripen’, meaning ‘total destruction’. Introduced by the linguist and researcher Marcel Courthiade in the 1970s, it is preferred by some Roma communities for being more precise.

The term ‘Holocaust’ is also sometimes used to describe the extermination of the Roma and Sinti, but can be considered controversial as it is commonly associated with the extermination of Jews. The use of the same term for different groups of victims can lead to confusion and be seen as blurring the specificity of each group’s experience.

Other terms used by Roma communities include: ‘Kali Traš’ (Black Fear) and ‘Berša Bibahtale’ (Unhappy Years). The diversity of these terms shows the importance of recognising the unique experiences of different Roma groups. Besides, the terminology used by different Roma ethnic groups to describe their genocide is also important from a social and psychological perspective. This is because these names are loaded with emotional and cultural meaning, helping us understand the suffering and trauma of these communities. Hence, the inclusion of these terms in public discourse is important for the recognition and commemoration of this specific form of genocide.

The use of appropriate terms is also important for education and public awareness. It allows for a better understanding and appreciation of the history of the Romani, avoiding oversimplification and confusion between different experiences of genocide.

Why do we want to remember today?
The shadow of the extermination of the Roma, the horrific genocide perpetrated by the German Nazis during the Second World War still hangs over us. Today in Europe, the Romani are still victims of hate crime, violence, persecution, expulsion and racial discrimination. Therefore, the remembrance of this tragedy should not only be a moral obligation to the victims and their families, but also a key element in building a better future. The importance of this remembrance is multidimensional and involves both the Roma community and society as a whole.

The extermination of the Roma left lasting wounds in their community. However, today the memory of this event is becoming part of their identity and cultural heritage. Learning about their history can strengthen the sense of togetherness and belonging within the Romani community, which was cut off from its roots as a result of the genocide.

The Romani ‘Holocaust’ did not happen in a vacuum. It was the culmination of centuries of discrimination and prejudice deeply rooted in European history. Education on the subject can raise awareness of the mechanisms of exclusion and persecution that marked the fate of the Roma. Such analysis allows for a better understanding of the mechanisms leading to other genocides and crimes against humanity. This knowledge is invaluable in identifying threats and taking preventive action to protect future generations from similar tragedies, as well as counteracting negative phenomena such as racism and xenophobia.

Remembrance-related challenges
Commemorating the annihilation of the Roma and Sinti faces numerous difficulties owing to both historical neglect and current challenges. For many years, the tragedy has been ignored, leading to insufficient public awareness and the victims fading from memory.

One of the main challenges is the lack of sufficient resources and support from state and local authorities. In many countries where the Roma and Sinti were victims of mass atrocities during the war, their commemoration was marginalised. This has resulted in the absence of monuments, museums and educational programmes to help preserve the memory of this tragedy. In addition, Roma communities often face prejudice and a lack of understanding from the rest of society, which hinders their efforts to acknowledge and commemorate their own history.

The lack of access to sources on the extermination of the Roma and Sinti is another major problem. This history is far less well documented compared to the other genocides of the Second World War. There is a lack of source material, such as biographies, testimonies and documents. In addition, there is a poorly developed written tradition in the Roma community, which further hinders the preservation and transmission of history. The lack of their own media to promote and report on Roma history and the limited international representation of Roma to claim recognition of their suffering during the Second World War are additional barriers to the commemoration process.

Another important challenge is the need to integrate the story of the Romani tragedy into the broader narrative of the Second World War and the Holocaust. Often the history of the Roma and Sinti is treated as marginal, instead of being an integral part of the story of the Nazi genocide. As a result, many people are unaware of the scale and cruelty that affected these communities. To remedy this, museums, educational institutions and school curricula need to integrate the topic of the Romani genocide into their programmes. This will ensure a fuller understanding of the scale and diversity of the Holocaust, which is key to preserving the memory of all its victims.

Good practice and modern initiatives
A number of activities are currently underway to commemorate the Sinti and Roma extermination. These initiatives aim to preserve the memory of the victims, educate the public and combat prejudice.

Monuments, museums and cultural institutions dedicated to the commemoration of the Romani genocide are being established in some European countries. In 1997 the Documentation and Cultural Centre of the German Sinti and Roma² opened in Heidelberg as the first institution of its kind in the world. In 2001 a permanent Roma exhibition presenting the theme of the Roma extermination was created at the Auschwitz Museum. In turn, the Memorial to the Sinti and Roma Victims of National Socialism (Nazism) was unveiled in Berlin in 2012.³

It is also important to take care of existing memorials in order to preserve their historical significance. An example of such efforts is the opening of the Memorial to the Holocaust of the Roma and Sinti in Bohemia in Lety u Písku in the Czech Republic in May 2024. This museum was established on the site on the grounds of a former concentration camp where more than 1,300 Roma were held between 1942 and 1943, of whom more than 300 died and the rest were deported to extermination camps, mainly Auschwitz. It should be noted that for many years the camp grounds were used by an industrial pig farm, which aroused much controversy and protests from the Roma community. The museum at Lety u Písku was established as a result of long-standing efforts and pressure from both the Roma community and international human rights organisations.

Various institutions and NGOs play a key role in the commemoration of the Romani genocide. International initiatives such as the European Holocaust Memorial Day for the Sinti and Roma⁴ have raised public awareness, creating a space for Romani voices to be heard and promoting values of equality and respect. The Central Council of the German Sinti and Roma founded in 1982⁵ stages numerous educational events, exhibitions and conferences in Germany and other countries.

International youth initiatives such as the annual ‘Dikh he na bister’ (‘Look and don’t forget’ in Romani) play an important role in the commemoration process. This visit to Kraków and Auschwitz-Birkenau aims to commemorate day of liquidation of the ‘Gypsy camp’, where the remaining 4,300 Roma and Sinti were murdered.⁶ The organisation of festivals, concerts and exhibitions dedicated to the history of the Roma and Sinti supports awareness-building among the general public.

The international cooperation of various organisations, mainly the Council of Europe,⁷ Office for the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe/Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (OECD/ODIHR),⁸ UNESCO⁹ and Internation Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA)¹⁰ contributes to promoting the remembrance of the Romani and Sinti genocide in Europe. The funding of educational projects and research on Roma history, the development of guidelines and the publication of books and articles are crucial for education and memory preservation.

In the EU Roma strategic framework, adopted in 2020, and in the European Council Recommendation, the European Commission and EU Member States committed themselves to countering antigypsyism. This framework is based on equality, social and economic inclusion and participation. The European Commission has extended the global #ProtectTheFacts campaign¹¹ to include the plight of the Romani. The Citizens, Equality, Rights and Values (CERV) programme has prioritised projects on remembrance of the Nazi genocide, education and research on the subject and the fight against denialism.

Contemporary good practice and international initiatives show that the activities aimed at preserving the memory of the extermination of the Roma and Sinti in Europe are on the rise. Through these activities, history can be preserved and a more informed and integrated society can be built. NGOs, Roma communities and international institutions are working together to ensure that the Roma tragedy is not forgotten. Despite the many challenges, these initiatives bring about positive change and raise public awareness of the Roma and Sinti extermination.

ENDNOTES
¹ The KL (i.e. Concentration Camp) Auschwitz was a German Nazi concentration and death camp complex operating in occupied Poland, near Oświęcim, between 1940 and 1945. It consisted of three main parts: Auschwitz I (mother camp), Auschwitz II–Birkenau (death camp) and Auschwitz III–Monowitz (labour camp). Auschwitz has become a symbol of the Holocaust, where some 1.1 million people, mainly Jews but also Poles, Roma and prisoners of other nationalities, were murdered under brutal conditions.
² https://dokuzentrum.sintiundroma.de/ (accessed 1 August 2024).
³ https://www.stiftung-denkmal.de/en/memorials/memorial-to-the-sinti-and-roma-of-europe-murdered-under-national-socialism/ (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁴ https://www.roma-sinti-holocaust-memorial-day.eu/ (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁵ https://zentralrat.sintiundroma.de/en/ (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁶ https://2august.eu/ (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁷ https://pjp-eu.coe.int/en/web/inclusive-education-for-roma-children/texts-2; https://rm.coe.int/168008b633; https://www.coe.int/en/web/roma-and-travellers/roma-history-factsheets (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁸ https://www.osce.org/files/f/documents/9/b/135396.pdf (accessed 1 August 2024).
⁹ https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/shedding-light-roma-genocide-take-part-protectthefacts-campaign (accessed 1 August 2024).
¹⁰ https://holocaustremembrance.com/what-we-do/our-work/ihra-project-recommendations-teaching-learning-genocide-roma (accessed 1 August 2024).
¹¹ https://www.againstholocaustdistortion.org/ (accessed 1 August 2024).

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Piotr Trojański, PhD, Professor at the University of the National Education Commission, Kraków (Poland)

Proofreading: Caroline Brooke Johnson

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The catalogue of the exhibition 'Between Life and Death. Stories of Rescue during the Holocaust' in Estonian.

The publication presents the 2024 catalogue of the exhibition 'Between Life and Death. Stories of Rescue during the Holocaust.'

In creating the first issue of Remembrance and Solidarity: Studies in 20th Century European History, we elected not to give it a theme any more precise than what the title seems to suggest. Nonetheless, the scholars we invited to contribute, no matter whether they were experienced or young, submitted texts in which two relatively clear tendencies are evident. The first is the theme of remembering the history of the 20th century in terms of political and societal issues. The authors describe debates and decision-making processes leading to the establishment of days commemorating certain events or situations in which new political rituals come into being that are meant to change our perception of the past. They compare the reigning principles in historical memory in Eastern and Western Europe, and consider the roles of the great historical caesurae in forming a sense of community within a generation. The subject of memory and its political function and potential has evidently lost none of its relevance, and continues to attract researchers, although it has been widely discussed and addressed in Europe for at least twenty years. Another aspect that unites the majority of texts is reference to communist history. This surely results from the history of the communist system and regimes having been ‘delved into’ to a much lesser degree than that of Hitlerism and its affiliated ideologies, and the sinister mark they have left on the history of 20th-century Europe. Although it is not the intention of the publishers of Studies to oppose this sort of compensatory work in the fields of history and memory, we hope that the coming issues of our annual magazine will be devoted to the memory of crises (2013), which were plentiful in 20th-century Europe, and the memory of World War One and its far-reaching effects (2014).

Since there are a number of relevant periodicals dealing with Holocaust research, the ‘Call for Articles’ for this current issue, published in February 2015, requested a focus on issues that are particularly relevant to the work of the ENRS. The objective was to obtain current research contributions from different European countries and to address authors with regional and methodologically different approaches. The response to this call has been overwhelming. The fifteen contributions ultimately selected for publication in this issue were written by an international group of authors either in English or in their native language and then translated into English. They deal with Germany, Italy, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, Romania, Ukraine, Slovakia and Hungary, or Central and Eastern Europe as a whole. The issue is divided into two main parts: I. Articles, which include academic research, and II. Miscellanea, which present both project reports and professional reflections. The Articles are subdivided into two further sections: ‘History – Studies on the Period’ focuses on the history of oppression and dispossession of Jews as well as the history and course of the murders in different local, regional and national contexts; and ‘Memory – Studies on Remembrance’ centres on post-1945 memory and remembrance, in which a variety of forms of public and private remembrance and memory preservation are considered, including literature, exhibitions, films and memorials. Special emphasis is placed here on the ways in which the subject was handled during the communist era and the question of comparability of the Holocaust / Shoah with the crimes of Stalinism.

The catalogue of the exhibition 'Between Life and Death. Stories of Rescue during the Holocaust' in German.