This march showed a rift that I didn’t know was there. My mom emailed me expressing her fears. My dad defended it as a hijacked gathering of nationalists. They marched with signs calling for a white Europe. For a second holocaust. For the removal of ethnic minorities. This wasn’t hijacked, it was meant to be this way.
The day after, we Poles had to condemn the march. Anything less would be a tacit acceptance of its message. I was confident that Catholic cousins would stand up for me. None of them did. I asked my grandmother about the march. She felt that it was overblown and it would be unfair to categorize everyone there as fascist. I was stunned. And now I’m angry. [...]
The main obstacle for me aren’t the fascists themselves. It’s Poles who watched the march and did nothing. It’s my relatives who insist that those who march behind racist banners and shout anti-Semitic slogans are actually just guilty of being tricked. It’s the political cover granted to fascists marching with children. It’s people who don’t want to recognize that Poland has a problem with racism.
I can’t pretend that I saw the march like everyone else. Unlike foreign Jews, I didn’t think that this march represented Poles or even the vast majority of Poles. And unlike Catholic Poles, I couldn’t see this as a small, irrelevant nationalist demonstration. Both of my identities saw it as fascists staking their claim in the heart of Poland. They wanted to define what Polish patriotism looked like and both groups, Jews and Poles, let them. By reacting with fear and derision, Jews abroad are fuelling fascist ideas of an isolated Poland. Similarly by providing them with excuses and cover, Poles are letting fascists operate with impunity.
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