It sometimes feels as though my life began in 1st September 1939, even though it is not my birthday and I am nowhere near 70 years old. But there’s no doubt it shaped my life in ways I, and my parents, could not have imagined.
The Nazi invasion of Poland which began that day started the Second World War and led to 50 million direct deaths. My father was an almost 13 year old schoolboy in Warsaw on the day the war broke out. He once said, even then, he had been taught about the existence of a country called Great Britain but thought no more of it. Nine years later he was living there with scant chance of going back to his homeland.
The war uprooted him, and millions of others, tossed them from their previously secure lives in places they knew well and let them land in unfamiliar countries where they were forced to build a new existence. That is why 1st September 1939 means so much to me.
They call Poles, ‘The History Men’, and for good reason. It matters a lot to them in ways that British people find hard to imagine. Perhaps that’s because Britain, as a state, has a good record of victory in wars and, as an island, is less prone to neighbour disputes.
Poland, caught between Germany and Russia is a victim of its own geography, which has made its history tumultuous. And because through all those upheavals its neighbours have remained unchanged, history still helps define its present.
And that is especially true of its relationship with Russia. As the Americans would say, they ‘have a bit of history.’ Imperial Russia colluded with the other great powers to wipe Poland from the map in the 18th and 19th centuries.
It was only back as an independent country for a year when Poland and Soviet Russia went to war in 1920.
Then came 1st September 1939, which within three weeks saw Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union split Poland between them. The Poles who found themselves in the Russian part were persecuted, many of the intellectuals, politicians and military chiefs were shot by Stalin’s secret police. After the two unlikely allies went to war with each other, the Red Army invaded German-occupied Poland.
But the Soviets blotted their ‘great liberator’ copybook by refusing to help nationalist Poles kick the Germans out of Warsaw in 1944, causing thousands of people to die and thousands more (among them my dad) to be taken prisoner of war.
And if all that wasn’t enough, with the German defeat, Stalin decided he wanted Poland to be part of his communist empire even if that’s not what the natives wanted. That lasted until 1989.
So the enmities are long lasting. But modern politicians on both sides recognise things have to move on. Today, on the 70th anniversary of the outbreak of war, Vladimir Putin is in Poland. The Russian Prime Minister has, in his own way, been trying to make amends.
His attempts have been rather mixed. “Our country’s parliament unambiguously stressed the immorality of the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact,” he wrote earlier this week. A good start, saying the Soviet annexation of eastern Poland in 1939 was wrong.
“The people of Russia, whose destiny was crippled by the totalitarian regime, fully understand the sensitivities of Poles about Katyn where thousands of Polish servicemen lie.” So, official recognition that Russians murdered Polish soldiers who were caught up in the 1939 partition. Things, you would think were moving in the right direction.
Wrong. Poles accept the steps towards conciliation but, being Poles, want more. Why won’t the Russian government release top secret files on why the soliders were killed at Katyn ? And they are further angered by Putin’s parallel drawn between their fate and the thousands of Russian prisoners who died in Polish hands at the end of the 1920 war.
It’s not the same, says Solidarity veteran, historian and newspaper editor, Adam Michnik. “”Let’s be serious,” he says. “We should disclose what happened to the Soviet prisoners. But whatever was their fate we can be sure it wasn’t a bullet in the back of the head.”
Putin’s moral equivalence runs all the way through his words in Poland. Yes, we did some bad stuff, but, hey, so did a lot of other folk and they got away with it. Hence, the Munich Agreement between France, Britain and the Nazis in 1938 which surrendered Czechoslovakia to Germany gave the Poles the chance to grab small bits of Czech and Slovak lands, as well as making Stalin’s pact with Hitler more likely.
Yes, says Michnik, Munich was “cowardly”. But he says, quite acidly, it can’t be compared to the carve up of 17th September 1939 with Germans invading western Poland while Russia got the east.
“It is difficult to put an equals sign between a cowardly, opportunistic agreement to Nazi expansion and the Nazi-Stalinist aggression against Poland. English and French armies didn’t jointly invade Czechoslovakia.
“The Polish government’s actions were reprehensible,” says the Polish intellectual. “But it doesn’t compare with the events of 17th September. The Poles didn’t deport anyone, and committed no crimes like Katyn.”
And it’s not just unofficial voices who are suspicious of Putin’s history lesson. An official Polish government spokesman says his “interpretation is not entirely consistent with Polish traditions.”
On the other hand, Polish President Lech Kaczynski created his own ‘ouch!’ moment by drawing parallels between the murder of the nation’s soliders by Russians at Katyn and the Holocaust.
The historical interpretations are of an intensity that would surprise many British people. Imagine a visit here by Angela Merkel dominated by the rights and wrongs of the Blitz, the bombings of Coventry and Dresden and you only have a small part of it.
But amid all the talk of the past, the 70th anniversary commemorations are also a time to discuss the future. Putin’s brought several members of the Russian government with him. They are talking trade with the Poles.
Relations between the two countries are, as Michnik recognises, far better than they were twenty years ago. But from the Polish side at least they want openness about the past alongside co-operation and understanding in the present and the future.
But suspicions exist still. Poles are outraged with Russian TV documentaries that claim Hitler was ready to sign an agreement with Poland to jointly invade the Soviet Union. Russians can’t understand why Poles don’t see the Red Army’s arrival in their country in 1945, thus ridding them of the Nazis, as something well worth celebrating.
Realpolitik may well rise above the hubbub of historical interpretations as both see each other as an increasingly important trading partner. But for many the history will still matter and the sooner Russians accept Polish points of view, and Poles stop seeing Russia as a threat, the better.
The Nazi invasion of Poland which began that day started the Second World War and led to 50 million direct deaths. My father was an almost 13 year old schoolboy in Warsaw on the day the war broke out. He once said, even then, he had been taught about the existence of a country called Great Britain but thought no more of it. Nine years later he was living there with scant chance of going back to his homeland.
The war uprooted him, and millions of others, tossed them from their previously secure lives in places they knew well and let them land in unfamiliar countries where they were forced to build a new existence. That is why 1st September 1939 means so much to me.
They call Poles, ‘The History Men’, and for good reason. It matters a lot to them in ways that British people find hard to imagine. Perhaps that’s because Britain, as a state, has a good record of victory in wars and, as an island, is less prone to neighbour disputes.
Poland, caught between Germany and Russia is a victim of its own geography, which has made its history tumultuous. And because through all those upheavals its neighbours have remained unchanged, history still helps define its present.
And that is especially true of its relationship with Russia. As the Americans would say, they ‘have a bit of history.’ Imperial Russia colluded with the other great powers to wipe Poland from the map in the 18th and 19th centuries.
It was only back as an independent country for a year when Poland and Soviet Russia went to war in 1920.
Then came 1st September 1939, which within three weeks saw Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union split Poland between them. The Poles who found themselves in the Russian part were persecuted, many of the intellectuals, politicians and military chiefs were shot by Stalin’s secret police. After the two unlikely allies went to war with each other, the Red Army invaded German-occupied Poland.
But the Soviets blotted their ‘great liberator’ copybook by refusing to help nationalist Poles kick the Germans out of Warsaw in 1944, causing thousands of people to die and thousands more (among them my dad) to be taken prisoner of war.
And if all that wasn’t enough, with the German defeat, Stalin decided he wanted Poland to be part of his communist empire even if that’s not what the natives wanted. That lasted until 1989.
So the enmities are long lasting. But modern politicians on both sides recognise things have to move on. Today, on the 70th anniversary of the outbreak of war, Vladimir Putin is in Poland. The Russian Prime Minister has, in his own way, been trying to make amends.
His attempts have been rather mixed. “Our country’s parliament unambiguously stressed the immorality of the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact,” he wrote earlier this week. A good start, saying the Soviet annexation of eastern Poland in 1939 was wrong.
“The people of Russia, whose destiny was crippled by the totalitarian regime, fully understand the sensitivities of Poles about Katyn where thousands of Polish servicemen lie.” So, official recognition that Russians murdered Polish soldiers who were caught up in the 1939 partition. Things, you would think were moving in the right direction.
Wrong. Poles accept the steps towards conciliation but, being Poles, want more. Why won’t the Russian government release top secret files on why the soliders were killed at Katyn ? And they are further angered by Putin’s parallel drawn between their fate and the thousands of Russian prisoners who died in Polish hands at the end of the 1920 war.
It’s not the same, says Solidarity veteran, historian and newspaper editor, Adam Michnik. “”Let’s be serious,” he says. “We should disclose what happened to the Soviet prisoners. But whatever was their fate we can be sure it wasn’t a bullet in the back of the head.”
Putin’s moral equivalence runs all the way through his words in Poland. Yes, we did some bad stuff, but, hey, so did a lot of other folk and they got away with it. Hence, the Munich Agreement between France, Britain and the Nazis in 1938 which surrendered Czechoslovakia to Germany gave the Poles the chance to grab small bits of Czech and Slovak lands, as well as making Stalin’s pact with Hitler more likely.
Yes, says Michnik, Munich was “cowardly”. But he says, quite acidly, it can’t be compared to the carve up of 17th September 1939 with Germans invading western Poland while Russia got the east.
“It is difficult to put an equals sign between a cowardly, opportunistic agreement to Nazi expansion and the Nazi-Stalinist aggression against Poland. English and French armies didn’t jointly invade Czechoslovakia.
“The Polish government’s actions were reprehensible,” says the Polish intellectual. “But it doesn’t compare with the events of 17th September. The Poles didn’t deport anyone, and committed no crimes like Katyn.”
And it’s not just unofficial voices who are suspicious of Putin’s history lesson. An official Polish government spokesman says his “interpretation is not entirely consistent with Polish traditions.”
On the other hand, Polish President Lech Kaczynski created his own ‘ouch!’ moment by drawing parallels between the murder of the nation’s soliders by Russians at Katyn and the Holocaust.
The historical interpretations are of an intensity that would surprise many British people. Imagine a visit here by Angela Merkel dominated by the rights and wrongs of the Blitz, the bombings of Coventry and Dresden and you only have a small part of it.
But amid all the talk of the past, the 70th anniversary commemorations are also a time to discuss the future. Putin’s brought several members of the Russian government with him. They are talking trade with the Poles.
Relations between the two countries are, as Michnik recognises, far better than they were twenty years ago. But from the Polish side at least they want openness about the past alongside co-operation and understanding in the present and the future.
But suspicions exist still. Poles are outraged with Russian TV documentaries that claim Hitler was ready to sign an agreement with Poland to jointly invade the Soviet Union. Russians can’t understand why Poles don’t see the Red Army’s arrival in their country in 1945, thus ridding them of the Nazis, as something well worth celebrating.
Realpolitik may well rise above the hubbub of historical interpretations as both see each other as an increasingly important trading partner. But for many the history will still matter and the sooner Russians accept Polish points of view, and Poles stop seeing Russia as a threat, the better.
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