Three important things need to be done in the recently revealed matter of the mass
murder of the Jedwabne Jews who were burnt alive on July 10, 1941 by a group of local
Poles acting on Nazi orders (we wrote about this in Rzeczpospolita, May 5, 2000).
First, determine the place where the remains of the victims of the tragedy were buried and
arrange a cemetery for them according to the laws of the Jewish religion. Second, reveal
the true course of the crime, its causes and circumstances, its perpetrators and victims,
as well as the witnesses and their mindset, in order to rectify the half-truths and lies
propagated so far on the subject. Third, commemorate not only the tragic end of the town's
entire community of Jewish fellow-citizens, but also their presence through the centuries
in a way that would help to unite rather than to divide.
The will to collaborate on these issues was agreed upon at a meeting in Jedwabne on May 8
by representatives of the local government, the Polish Union of Jewish Religious
Communities, and the prime minister's office.
For close to forty years, the commemorative plaque at the place where Jews were burned
alive in Jedwabne, near Łomża, has proclaimed a falsehood by ascribing responsibility
for their death only to the Gestapo and Nazi gendarmerie, while everyone in the village
are aware that the Germans gave the orders or provided the inspiration for the crime, but
the majority of its perpetrators were local Poles. Those at the meeting agreed that the
plaque bearing lies must be replaced by one that reflects the true course of the tragedy,
and that it would be best if this were done before its sixtieth anniversary next year.
Piotr Zandberg, on behalf of the Warsaw Jewish Community, declared a willingness to fund a
plaque commemorating the Poles who saved Jewish lives in Jedwabne and the nearby villages
during the Nazi occupation. He also proposed that young trees, modeled on those at Yad
Vashem in Jerusalem, be planted in Jedwabne jointly by Jews in honor of Poles who saved
Jewish lives and by Poles to mark the memory of their Jewish fellow-citizens. He outlined
a proposal by the Union of Jewish Religious Communities to organize an educational program
to familiarize young people with the lives of the Jews in Jedwabne and elsewhere in Poland
(their religion, culture and customs), in collaboration with the local government,
educational authorities, parental committees, and maybe also with the town's Catholic
parish. The most important thing of all, however, says Piotr Zandberg, is to create a
cemetery for the victims of this murder.
This may not be easy. The existing monument probably stands on the site of the barn that was the site of the suffering and death of many hundreds of Jews. How many exactly is not known. The figure of 1,600 victims is only an estimate. A certain number died before July 10, 1941, and some the same day but not by being burned alive. Others survived the pogrom in Jedwabne and died in the Łomża ghetto or extermination camps, or were murdered after their hideouts were revealed. Nor is it possible to indicate precisely where the July 10 murder victims were buried. On the basis of clues from local residents, it can be deduced that the remains were buried near the site of incineration, not at the nearby Jewish cemetery but next to it, in pits or ditches. Irregularities in the ground level indicate numerous excavations, but it will require special research to reveal which holes were dug for burial and which ones were dug for sand extraction. The outline of the burned barn is visible on old aerial photographs, but archaeological investigation may prove necessary to identify the burial sites.
After the story was published in Rzeczpospolita on May 5, the response from former
Jedwabne residents permitted new facts to be established. The monumental bust of Lenin
that the perpetrators forced the Jews to carry stood not in the main town square in the
center of Jedwabne (there was also another town square, smaller one known as the "old
square," in the old Jewish neighborhood; nearby, I was shown several formerly
Jewish-owned houses that are still standing, rather than the single one about which I was
earlier informed), but in a small square not far away. This has made it possible to
retrace the probable death route from the main town square to this small square (now a
sort of small plaza) and then by way of Sadowa and Cmentarna streets to the place of
suffering and death.
The reconstruction of the tragedy, based on the testimony of living witnesses, is made
difficult not only because of the passage of time. As many of those who are still alive
and residing in Jedwabne tell me, the massacre should not be thought of as taking place in
the midst of a large crowd. Whoever could do so, especially women and children, sheltered
from the danger, which threatened everyone, from criminals who had assumed the role of
executioners, drunken outlaws caught up in a frenzy of murder. Despite this, there were
people brave enough to stand up to the murderers. To the list of names previously known,
it is possible to add further ones. Kozłowski the butcher saved a girl (Chajka, or
perhaps Chaimka) and kept her for several months until her aunt came for her; both were
later in the Łomża Ghetto and probably died in Treblinka or Auschwitz. I also was shown
the turning off Sadowa Street where two little girls escaped from the death march and hid
in a shed or outside toilet - in any case, they managed to survive the pogrom. In the end,
however, they too found themselves in the Łomża Ghetto.
When he put forward the education project, Piotr Zandberg quoted the line by George
Santayana: "Those who do not know the past are condemned to repeat it." In
Jedwabne, everyone knew the truth, but they previously refused to speak it aloud. During a
mass for the Motherland on Saturday, May 13, the parish priest asked the faithful to pray
as well for those victims of the war who lost their lives because of the uninhibited,
criminal desire of others to enrich themselves.