“The Second
World War left Poland devastated. Around 6,000,000 Poles had died during the
conflict, 20 per-cent of the pre-war population; only about a tenth as a result
of military action. The deaths of the remainder bore testament to the brutality
of the German occupation from 1939 to 1945 and to the Soviet occupations from
1939 to 1941 and from 1944 to 1945. Of the dead, half were Polish Jews,
representing approximately 90 per-cent of the pre-war Jewish population of
Poland.”
Any reader
hoping to understand the abattoir that was the twentieth century will profit
from Kochanski’s work. The epicenter of evil is forever shifting, but Poland has
been a frequent host. The American poet Larry Levis served as Zbigniew
Herbert’s chauffeur when the Polish poet taught at UCLA in 1970-71 and describes
his experience in “Strange Days: Zbigniew Herbert in Los Angeles.” Levis’ Herbert
is modest, thoughtful, indelibly European, cultured, a bemused alien in the
Southern California of Charles Manson and the Eagles. It’s touching to know
Herbert (who never learned to drive) and his wife Katrina bought a 1960 Ford
Fairlane in Los Angeles, and chilling when the poet remembers the only time he
drove an automobile:
“`It was
after a meeting of the Underground. The boy who drove for me was waiting in the
car. But dead. The Nazis shot him. Just one shot, a style they had. I came out
later . . . I saw him. I had to learn fast. I pushed the boy over to other side
of car seat. I drove. Just one time. With the dead boy beside me. I drove.’”
Like
Kochanski (and Solzhenitsyn, and Wat, and Tadeusz Borowski, and the Mandelstams,
and others), Herbert is essential reading. Human nature does not change and we need
all the documentation available. The notion of moral progress, and the complacency
it breeds, is a dangerous myth. Months before he died in July 1998, Herbert
responded to a questionnaire from the editors of the Catholic journal Znak (Sign). [“Evil,” trans. Alissa Valles, is included in The Collected Prose: 1948-1998, 2010] As
a boy, Herbert writes, “I went on living without any metaphysical conflict over
the fact that both evil and good exist in the world, battling each other; to me
it wasn’t a scandal or a paradox, or a painful absurdity, or something that
attacks the very essence of God, His omnipotence.”
Herbert
emphasizes the importance of “choosing.” A person who complains about difficult
choices is feigning “an intellectual malaise,” he writes, “while in fact he
lacks character, the ability to make a moral choice according to one’s moral being.”
Herbert has no patience for sophistry: “there is no need to go on about it or
write fat tomes; one must exercise good will, for that way we spare ourselves
and our neighbors much suffering.”
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