Mariusz Cieślik: The boys from the exhibition "Our Boys" are not our boys at all

We are children of an era/an era is political,” says Wisława Szymborska, most rightly. “All yours, ours, yours/day matters, night matters/these are political matters.” And the most political of political matters is history.

This isn't the time or place to analyze this, but everyone who follows events in Poland knows the influence historians (and especially pseudo-historians) have, for example, on discussions about the Holocaust, and thus indirectly on Poland's relations with Israel and the US. Of course, the creators of the exhibition "Our Boys: Residents of Gdańsk Pomerania in the Army of the Third Reich" are well aware of this. Therefore, they should approach matters as delicate as Poles' participation in the war on the side of the Third Reich with even greater thoughtfulness and caution. To put it simply: for people completely uninterested in the history of our country—that is, for almost everyone except ourselves—the message that "our boys" fought on Hitler's side is tantamount to saying that we were the aggressors in that war. No one will delve into the details, because for everyone except Poles themselves, these are irrelevant stage directions.

Outraged Andrzej Duda, Adam Szłapka, and Władysław Kosiniak-Kamysz. Only Donald Tusk, the Wehrmacht's grandfather, was missing.

Initially, everything followed a familiar pattern. First, news of the exhibition's opening broke, and then, from the right-wing opposition, a barrage of attacks began against its creators. President Andrzej Duda, who usually maintains a moderate stance, spoke out strongly against the creators of the exhibition. Unlike several other politicians, he was concerned about the exhibition's title, not the idea behind it. However, there were those who questioned the very idea of depicting Poles' participation in the war on the side of the Third Reich. It's hard to agree with this, however, because this tragic story deserves to be told. The vast majority of those conscripted were sent to the front against their will, and many attempted desertion cost them their lives (in some cases, this included their families). And yet, despite this, many Kashubians and Pomeranians (as well as Silesians), including the infamous "Grandpa of the Wehrmacht," Donald Tusk, defected to the Allies. In response to the politicians' attacks, the exhibition's authors issued a statement that was supposedly conciliatory but actually confrontational, and when it seemed the argument would end as usual, government spokesman Adam Szłapka and Deputy Prime Minister Władysław Kosiniak-Kamysz sided with President Duda. Both questioned the exhibition's title.

Because that's precisely the problem. The exhibition's authors supposedly borrowed the idea for the title from the Luxembourgers. However, it's difficult to compare the histories of the two countries. In Luxembourg, there was a resistance movement against conscription into Hitler's army, but conscription was nevertheless widespread. Meanwhile, Poles fought on all fronts of World War II against the Third Reich, and a small minority of them joined the Wehrmacht. As the grandson of a participant in the September 1939 campaign, I have a different idea of who "our boys" were during World War II. I suspect that 90-something percent of Poles feel the same way. Those in the Wehrmacht are "their boys," after all, and insisting that everything is fine with the exhibition title leads not to burying but to deepening the division.

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd consider the title of the exhibition at the Gdańsk Museum to be a deliberate provocation. That it's like banging a stick on a cage to rile up monkeys—as the classics of political marketing say. This, in turn, would reflect poorly on its creators and patrons, implying that the intended effect is to sow political chaos. Historians, in fact, are the last professional group that should be engaging in this. Their actions must be accompanied by reflection, and the desired effect is to educate their audience. So, to the classic question of "idiot or provocateur," I have to answer: I hope so. Only one thing bothers me about this, and it supports the provocation thesis: the exhibition's creators refuse to admit their mistake. And they should.