HIA Poland Fellowship 2015

Envisioning Another World by Walking through History

by Camille Erickson

The Warsaw Fellowship 2015 officially began this past weekend! I have never been in a setting quite like this before. It’s one that bypasses small talk and instead demands upfront confrontation with the social, political, economic, and cultural complexities of today. Fellows open up with an eagerness to passionately share the plights and their hope in human rights issues. I’m energized to learn how to listen differently, to not always look for confirmation in what I think or know, make space for everyone’s experiences, and dismantle systems of oppression. The stories of resistance, discrimination, and activism contribute to a better understanding of the puzzling, interconnected webs precariously holding humanity together.

I have been given a window into the nuanced cross-cultural and transnational identities we each bring to this program. Having the chance to discuss, brainstorm, and process together (both formally and casually) already implores me to examine my position in the world. We each come from varied backgrounds; the importance of honoring each of our unique lived-experiences cannot be understated.

I realize now that I came to this fellowship largely unaware of the nuances composing Warsaw’s history. The layered memories of tumultuous partitions, wars, authoritarianism, genocide, communism, and resistance together compose a very rich and pressing history to learn from. This history needs to be made known throughout the world. I have heard multiple times that the scars that Warsaw carries will not always be obvious, but if you take the time to look closely the consequences of the trauma and resilience that the country’s people have known can be traced deep throughout the city.

We had the pleasure of being led around Warsaw by a professional guide named Adrian Grycuk. When he is not giving passionate tours through Warsaw’s winding streets, he serves as an economist as well as the writer for Wikipedia pages in Poland. I believe recounting points throughout our extensive tour help illustrate the process of learning this nuanced history. Walking through moments in Warsaw’s history lays a foundation to react and confront contemporary human rights issues related to this area.

We began our tour by visiting the tallest building in Poland called the Palace of Culture and Science; it now serves as a municipal building where the Council of Warsaw convenes. The building was constructed as a “gift” from Stalin during the rapid transition to communism following the World War II. Sparked by the invasion of Poland by Nazi Germany in 1939, the war left over 80 percent of the city of Warsaw demolished. We learned how, following the end of the WWII, Russia assumed power over Warsaw and swiftly implemented a communist government. The authoritarian rule of Stalin proved to be just as destructive and violent as the war. Poland transitioned to a democratic free market society following massive uprisings in the 1980s. This building was therefore renamed after 1956 to remove Stalin’s name. It stands 3,288 meters high and, according to Adrian, has 10 cats roaming the basement to catch mice.

While we were up at the top looking down, a massive group of bikes began to slowly take over the main street below. Pointing out of excitement, I was informed that an event called Critical Mass was happening! I witnessed the event where bicyclists get together and take over the streets, block traffic, and reclaim the city in the hundreds. This moment left me feeling hopeful and reminded me of the various ways to intervene in existing social systems in order to alert the public to pressing concerns. While in this case it was an environmental concern, these modes of resistance can be transferable in regards to the social and political problems we grapple with on this program. What issues should we, as global citizens and activists, be taking to the streets? 

After a swift walk and metro ride, we visited the memorials of the Warsaw Ghetto, the largest of Jewish ghettos in areas occupied by the Nazis during WWII. We first encountered a remnant of the Warsaw Ghetto wall located behind a building at 62 Złota Street. It was here that I learned how before WWII, Warsaw had the largest Jewish population in the world. What was once a hospitable city for Jews quickly transitioned to a hostile place following the Nazi’s invasion of the city. Polish Jews faced widespread discrimination, violence, and anti-Semitism. Under the assumed rule of Nazi Germany, all Jewish citizens living in Poland had their rights stripped away.

Our guide explained how Poland experienced the gradual implementation of anti-Semitic laws and regulations. I had no idea the extensive and dehumanizing nature of these regulations. Through these laws, the Nazi government began requiring armbands to identify residents as Jewish, freezing Jewish bank accounts, ordering shops not to serve Jews, taking away property and registered Jewish businesses, instating compulsory labor, closing all synagogues, restricting access to libraries or railways, revoking licenses, implementing a strict curfew, and enforcing food rationing. Displaced to a small area of the city over the course of two months in the summer of 1942, the Jewish people living in Warsaw were imprisoned without the most basic human rights. Three-meter high brick walls topped with barbed wire erratically crawled through Warsaw, demarcating the area with the highest concentration of Jewish population. The walls, which the Jews were forcibly made to build themselves in 1940, subjugated and imprisoned them. This move disenfranchised the Polish Jews and violently compromised their humanity. Within the Ghetto, massive overpopulation, starvation, unemployment, and disease resulted in high mortality rates estimated at approximately 350,000 by the end of the war. We walked throughout the area that served as the Warsaw Ghetto ending at the Ventrilo footbridge that, for 8 months, connected the “little” and “big” Warsaw Ghetto together.

Learning this history outside of a common tourist lens provides us with an invitation to dig deeper into the unwritten and silenced narratives of Warsaw but also other cities around the world. Just because a story has been rendered invisible or silent, does not mean it doesn’t exist. I need to learn more about the recorded narratives of Jewish individuals who experienced this destructive and unforgettable period in history.

The next day the group walked through the Praga district of Warsaw located on the east bank of the river Vistula. This district experiences the most acute social problems including crime, poverty, governmental neglect, and gentrification. The graffiti throughout the district stood out to me most. The photo above depicts a phrase in big, bold letters that translates to: “We miss you Jew.” Located on a side of building, this statement seeks to acknowledge the traumatic removal and murder of the majority of Jewish residents and the large vacuum left after the WWII as a result. Initiated by the artist, Rafał Betlejewski, the public artwork seeks to spread a message of the invisible history of Polish Jews.

The bright, colorful picture above was commissioned by the government before the Euro Cup in 2012 to try to “clean up” and literally paint over the social ills inflicting the residents of the Praga district. I believe that the whimsical and strange images of animals demonstrate an attempt to mask the visible pain and neglect experienced by this community.

We also came upon the portrait of Jolanta Brzeska, an activist burned and murdered at 64 years old following her fight to combat eviction and advance tenants’ rights. Shortly following Poland’s transition to a democracy, Brzeska experienced eviction from her building. She lived in a building that had once been public housing but following democratization shifted hands to privatized developers. She served as one of the founders and activists involved with the Warsaw Tenants’ Association. The text beneath her face states: “You can’t burn us all.”

I believe these few examples of public graffiti and art throughout Praga highlight the unseen injustices disproportionately impacting the communities living in this district. They each provide another piece to the complex story of the history of this city’s people.

Carrying knowledge of this painful past requires one to resist complacency and demand a better world. This active approach reminds me of the late visual and cultural theorist, Jose Esteban Muñoz who states that one should never settle or accept the injustices of our day, but rather seek a future that is more collective and intentional about the contributions and perspectives of all those around us. He calls for a performative rethinking of the present or the “here and now.” He writes:“The here and now is a prison house. We must strive, in the face of the here and now’s totalizing rendering of reality, to think and feel a then and there. Some will say that all we have are the pleasures of this moment, but we must never settle for that minimal transport; we must dream and enact new and better pleasures, other ways of being in the world, and ultimately new worlds.”

Despite the short amount of time we have spent together, I already feel like there exists a sense of accountability and honesty interwoven throughout the insightful group of fellows. I believe that this platform provides a means to do as Muñoz implores: to act by imagining and implementing new worlds. These images and stories we have collected as a result of this tour remind me that these issues can inform our next steps of action. It is only through learning from the destructive histories and the strength of collective action that these oppressive histories can be prevented from cycling around again. For now, I am left wondering: What other facets of the city continue to be buried and unrepresented? What other stories have we continued to miss and need to be told?