Category: Trauma

“Go Back to Poland!” Really??!!??

Reading that there were chants of “Go back to Poland” at the pro-Palestinian encampments at Columbia University stopped me in my tracks. Weeks later my attempts to ignore it are not working. It is just too painful to try to pretend it didn’t happen.

The stunning ignorance and cruelty that this demonstrates is hard to swallow. Do they not understand what happened to Jews in Poland? This is personal to me. That statement could apply to American Jews, not just Israelis, after all we are hardly indigenous to the Americas. As an American Jew if I was forced to go back to Poland the only remnant of my family would be a monument to the 2500 people murdered in Halbow, Poland in 1942. My paternal grandfather’s parents and sister are buried underneath that monument in a mass grave. Luckily for my family, my grandfather went to America alone in 1921, long before World War II was on the horizon and before the thrall of Nazism. My grandfather was seeking his fortune and Jews were still permitted to immigrate. Millions of Jews in Poland were not so adventurous or prescient.

In addition to my family’s experience, we have the horrors my in-laws endured. They too lived in Poland, though today it is actually Ukraine or Belarus, which introduces another problem with their simplistic chant. Some of the Bakst family did indeed go to Israel after the war. Even if Ukraine or Belarus opened their arms to receive them today, it is not a viable alternative, or is the reason for that not obvious to those protesters?

I wrote about what happened to my father-in-law when he did go back to Iwie in 1944, while the war was still on but his town had been liberated by the Soviet army. I hope you will take the time to read my blog post about that here.

For purposes of this essay, I will summarize. David Bakst was granted leave for his heroism in a battle with the German army. At this point David was in the Soviet army who were unaware that he was Jewish. He was given leave to visit what was left of his family, his father and sister, who were in Lida, about 40 kilometers from his hometown. David pined for his home. He had warm memories of family gatherings and the love he felt among his extended family. The house was a relatively modern one, built in 1929. I think, even though it was unrealistic, he hoped in his heart to reclaim it.

They arrived at their home, which withstood bombing by Germany. A Polish family was living there. Though David was allowed to come into the house when he explained his connection to it, the reception was not warm. He was told in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t his anymore. Upon seeing the interior, with his family’s things rearranged, and seeing his parent’s bed, knowing his mother and younger sister had already been murdered, he collapsed in tears. His father and sister comforted him, they told him there was nothing in Iwie for them anymore, they needed to look to the future, and that is what they did.

David spoke fondly of that house for the rest of his life. But, whatever bitterness he may have harbored did not interfere with his making a new life in a new country.

Clearly the protesters at Columbia, at other college campuses and in the Middle East either don’t know this history or don’t care. If they don’t know it, they have a responsibility to learn it. The latter possibility is even worse. To be aware of the pain that is carried by our family and by millions of other Jewish families, and still chant “Go back to Poland,” is beyond cruel. It would be evidence of pernicious antisemitism, not of a liberation movement. It is also extraordinarily, epically ironic given that the basis of their protest is that Palestinians were forcibly evicted from their homes.

Another problem with this situation is that the media coverage of this has been quite limited. I have not seen stories that explain the problem with the suggestion that Jews go back to Poland. Those who are ignorant have not been enlightened by the coverage; they can continue to live in their deluded world. Does the media assume that people understand? If they understand, they should be called out for their inhumanity. While one might argue that the journalist’s role is not to take sides that is not what is called for here. It is a matter of giving context, explain some history and that is the role of a journalist. Giving that context doesn’t even necessarily mean folks would change their mind about the Palestinian cause, but it might help bring some nuance to the discussion. At the very least, hopefully that disgusting chant would be cast aside. I would not hope for apology, that is probably too much to ask, but it would be appropriate.

We can argue until the end of time about who the indigenous people of the Middle East are. Frankly, I don’t care beyond understanding the history of the region as best we can. We can argue who is in diaspora – aren’t both peoples? Not to mention other displaced persons who have been forced to leave their homes whether it is in Africa, Asia, or Central America because of war, gang violence, natural disasters, climate change, power struggles, genocides. Are these encampments for them too? Is there a point to arguing who is a refugee? Where does the argument get us? Yes, it is essential that we understand and acknowledge the generational trauma that Palestinians and Jews carry, but that is a two-way street. Chanting “Go back to Poland” is absurd and suggests that they are not serious about finding a solution.

A Poignant Celebration

“There was a lot of warmth in that room,” Gary said to me as we left a celebration in honor of his uncle Sol’s 100th birthday. I readily agreed.

It was an interesting gathering. If one reaches that auspicious age, it is almost certain that you have outlived your spouse (possibly spouses), siblings and most, if not all, friends. This is true of Sol. So it can be bittersweet to plan a party.  Who do you invite? Sol’s son, Ben, faced this question.

Sol is a Holocaust survivor, like Gary’s parents. I have written a great deal about Gary’s parents, David and Paula and their remarkable story. I don’t know the details of Sol’s experience. Sol married David’s sister, Batya, in America. The two couples were part of a tight knit survivor community. There were about five or six families that socialized regularly, centered in Rosedale, Queens. Their children grew up together.

Gary told me stories about those years – how the mixture of family and friends would gather at his house most weekends – the kids playing various games while the adults chatted (and maybe argued, especially about politics). How they went to the Pennsylvania Dutch country with the Majewskis, who lived down the block, and how the Majewskis had all the coolest toys – they often hung out at their house. As often happens with college and adulthood, the kids went their separate ways, maintaining only occasional contact.

I didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at the party. I wondered who would be there. Ben and Rochelle, Sol’s step-daughter, set up displays of photographs of Sol that captured his life over the many years. We studied the pictures, looking at the young faces. When we sat down at a large rectangular table that sat the 25 guests, Ben welcomed everyone and explained that when he thought about who his father would want to share this momentous milestone with, he thought of that core group of survivors. Since the original members have passed on, Ben reached out to the second generation to gather to celebrate Sol, the one who remains. They all represented the heart of Sol’s life.

Sol lives in Florida. When we go to visit Gary’s Mom, we see Sol as well. Until about a year ago, he was in remarkable shape. It is only these last months that there are signs of his age, his short-term memory is starting to fail, and his strength is waning. When Ben extended the invitation to us, after briefly discussing it, we realized it was a milestone that should be recognized so we would both attend. After all, as several observed at the party, it was an opportunity to gather for a happy occasion, not a funeral which is more often the impetus for second and third generation survivors to gather.

I do not know the details of Sol’s journey, I don’t believe he participated in Steven Spielberg’s Shoah project, so there is no testimony to watch, as I have watched my in-laws’ videos. Based on the research our niece Laura did as part of writing her book, The Shoemaker’s Son, I do know that Sol suffered horribly. One of the factors that made his situation even more challenging is that his family was poor to begin with. The Nazis did not differentiate between rich Jews and poor Jews, but having some resources to bribe or trade could buy time when one was on the run, hiding in the woods. Sol bears the scars of his painful experiences. I believe he and his brother were the sole survivors from his family. Once he got to America, he had a successful business as a glazier, but the memories of deprivation were never far from his thoughts. His tightness with money is legendary in the family.

Several of the attendees made remarks, sharing memories of Sol, honoring his tenacity, and his love of family and friends. Jokes were told. Some of the speakers managed a great imitation of Sol’s accent – an echo of their own parents’ accents of blessed memory.

Sol sat at the head of the table. He enjoyed himself. He made his own remarks: he thanked everyone for coming and expressed his love for all. He told us that this was likely his last birthday. Everyone pooh-poohed that and Ben pointed out that he has been saying that for the last 40 years, so he took that as a good sign. Of course, no one knows what tomorrow will bring for any of us.

Gary was moved to be in the presence of that group – the familiar sounds of the voices of the past, the warmth of the connections, the strength of the bond that links them – even if they haven’t kept in close touch. Not only were they honoring Sol, but they were acknowledging the legacy of the survivors who were no longer physically present – though they are kept alive in their collective memory. Despite the fact that I don’t share their history, I was happy to be part of the poignant celebration.

Sol Feder, with his remarkable head of white hair, surrounded by family and friends

Another Perspective

I have woken up at about 1:00 a.m. the last two nights with thoughts about the war in Gaza. As I lay in bed I argue with imaginary Palestinians – or not so imaginary since I listened to an Ezra Klein, a New York Times writer, podcast that featured Amjad Iraqi, a Palestinian citizen of Israel who is a writer and editor there. I think it is important to be as informed as possible by hearing different perspectives so, though it was uncomfortable, I listened to what he had to say.

He made some important, legitimate observations that need to be acknowledged. The way Israel came into being in 1948, with U.N. Resolution 181 and the subsequent war of independence, was traumatic for the Arabs who lived on that land. The U.N. Resolution which passed in November of 1947 defined two states, one for Israel and one for Palestinian Arabs (Jerusalem was designated as an area to be overseen by the U.N.).  The Arabs believed the resolution was inadequate and rejected it; Jews embraced it and began organizing a state for when the British left. The day after Israel declared its independence on May 14, 1948, five Arab countries (Iraq, Lebanon, Syria and Egypt – Saudi Arabia provided troops under Egyptian command) attacked the new state expecting to claim the land on behalf of the Palestinian Arabs. A war ensued during which Arabs either fled or were forcibly evicted from their homes – and in 1949 Israel won. As a result, Palestinians designated May 15th as a day of mourning – they call this sequence of events The Nakba, the catastrophe. It was violent and tragic from their perspective and that trauma, and that narrative, has been passed down generation to generation. We cannot deny that trauma, just as we cannot deny that the trauma of the Holocaust has shaped our (Jews) world view (though in a very different way). Even if we believe that the founding of Israel was a righteous and necessary thing, we can still understand that it wasn’t without consequence. There was a human cost.

With that said, the question becomes: aside from acknowledging the reality of their pain, what do we do with it? What actions or changes should be made when we recognize it?

If you ask Mr. Iraqi the only answer is to give the land back to the Palestinians. And not just any land – the precise land that became Israel. In addition, if you ask Mr. Iraqi, all Palestinians in the diaspora should have a right of return to that land. That answer is impossible to fulfill and maintain a Jewish state (certainly not a concern for Mr. Iraqi). Israel would no longer exist.

In one way, I understand his argument. Something valuable was taken, it should be given back. But that isn’t the way the world works. First and foremost, it denies Israel’s right to exist. When there is a war, the losing side, by definition, loses. At the end of a war a treaty may be signed, and agreements may be reached where some concessions are made, some property may be returned, and reparations may be offered. But, I can’t think of an instance where the people on the losing side were made whole, given all their territory back. I don’t understand why there would be an attitude of entitlement? Why would there be an assumption that they should get the land ‘from river to sea’? We can argue forever who had it first. Jews can argue their ‘entitlement’ from the time of the first temple. There isn’t a nation on this earth whose borders were somehow preordained – bloodshed has defined all of them.

It seems to me that it is more realistic and reasonable to take the position that there is a compromise to be made – a two state solution – the parameters of the respective states are difficult to hammer out (though it makes sense to start with the original U.N. Resolution) and figure out a plan for reparations. I’m not suggesting something new here – there have been negotiations for a Palestinian homeland for decades. But if the Palestinians come to the table with the perspective that Mr. Iraqi offered, there is no room for negotiation. There is no path forward. Mr. Iraqi made a vague suggestion of decentralized entities – not nations. While I am open to other models of governance, you can hardly move forward without a more concrete structure to offer that is ready to be implemented.

Putting aside for the moment his position that the only option is to give all the land back, Mr. Iraqi made the point that Palestinians had tried everything to achieve their goals – diplomacy, civil disobedience and ‘minor’ armed resistance – and that none of that worked, so Hamas launched the attack of October 7th. He didn’t exactly justify the nature of the attack – he said time would tell if Hamas leadership authorized the brutality or whether militants went rogue (Meanwhile, just recently Mahmoud Abbas, the leader of the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank said that Israel conducted the massacre at the music festival! Many pro-Palestinians will be willing to believe that). But, Mr. Iraqi was saying that their desperation left them no choice but to attack. I would argue that they didn’t try everything – it seems clear to me that there was and is another option.

What if in 1948 or at subsequent points when a Palestinian state was offered, not that it encompassed what they believed they were entitled to, but it was land and it would be under their control, they accepted the terms? And, what if, instead of keeping refugee camps, they built cities and towns with the resources they did have? And what if their thinking was, we will make this homeland as strong as possible, with a productive economy and an educated citizenry? They might have achieved their ultimate goal that way – if they shed their idea of themselves as victims and built a nation, who knows what would have happened? Why wasn’t that an option? Why isn’t it still an option?

I can imagine progressives reading this and saying that wasn’t possible – they were oppressed. I would draw an analogy to a child who grows up with abusive parents. At a certain point, if you want to be a productive adult, you need to take steps to heal yourself. It can’t be done alone – support is needed – but the recognition that you need to fix yourself, that first step, needs to be taken by the individual. I think it is no different with an oppressed people. Leadership needs to emerge that empowers people to heal their wounds and celebrate their strengths – not through terrorism, not through rage, but through education and growth. We can understand that a person who grows up with abusive parents might turn violent, but we need to offer another path forward. As a society, we cannot accept violence or murder as a viable response. No one is served by spending their life defining themselves as a victim. The fix for that is not to become a vigilante or a terrorist – that is misguided and only digs the hole deeper.

I live in the real world, so I recognize that this is not simple. We can’t flip a switch and change a national identity. Our national identity as Americans has emphasized rugged individualism and that has a toxic side (i.e., gun culture). Adjusting that, or even recognizing the negative aspects of it, is not easy. I also understand that the current state of conflict in the Middle East benefits certain actors – Iran is served by the role the Palestinians play. There are powerful interests served by the chaos in the Middle East aside from Iran. China and Russia might see opportunities they can exploit. I don’t have answers, but we have to understand the perspectives and accept the need for concessions. One point that Mr. Iraqi and I would agree on is that the status quo, even before October 7th, was unsustainable for both Israelis and Palestinians. Listening to Mr. Iraqi I was not optimistic about the future, but once again, I have to hope that each side can come to their senses and make the necessary compromises so that Israelis and Palestinians can live in dignity and peace – and the further killing of innocent people can be prevented.

King Herrod’s Palace pool on the coast of Israel
one of three sources of the Jordan River – Tal Dan, Israel

Photos taken by me, Linda Bakst, in June 2011