'In the Way of Politicians, Urbanists, Pedagogues'

“I’m rather sensitive to the presence of history,” says the late Adam Zagajewski, and in an essay titled “The Presence of History,” his fellow Pole, Zbigniew Herbert, writes: 

“No one denies that the past exists, although we try to push it under the surface of consciousness. It exists, because it stands in the way of politicians, urbanists, pedagogues. It’s big, mute, heavy, awkward. Even if it’s dead—as some claim—it can’t be hidden or destroyed without a trace.”

 

Unlike Americans, Poles can’t afford to forget the past, deny its existence or edit it for our convenience. The air in Poland is heavier, dense with history. In May 2012, I was the sole American attending the wedding of my wife’s cousin. He is German, the bride Polish. I stayed at the inn where the reception was held, in Mszana Doln, near Kraków. In early September 1939, the 10th Armored Cavalry Brigade of General Stanisław Maczek fought here against the advancing Wehrmacht. During the war, Mszana Doln lost one-third of its population, including its Jews, of whom 881 were murdered by the Germans on August 19, 1942. One drizzly afternoon I took a walk and happened on a stark monument of gray granite, away from the main street and obscured by woods. The inscriptions were in Polish but I understood it was dedicated to the Polish dead of World War II.

 

September 17 for Poles might be likened to September 11 for Americans. On that day, two weeks after the Germans invaded from the west, the Red Army invaded from the east. In his poem “September 17,” Herbert writes:

  

“My defenseless country will admit you invader

and give you a plot of earth under a willow—and peace

so those who come after us will learn again

the most difficult art—the forgiveness of sins”

 

Have the Poles forgiven Hitler – and Stalin? I’m in no position to say. Herbert writes in “The Presence of History”:

 

“It’s pleasant to engage with history when one has a sense of one’s own innocence, righteousness, and serenity. Then it’s easy to pass judgment on the past, defend the oppressed, and brand the tyrants. . . . History turns into a balance sheet of conscience—it condemns, reminds, robs us of peace.”

 

[Herbert’s 1975 essay is found in The Collected Prose: 1948-1998 (trans. Alissa Valles, Ecco, 2010).]