The year of 2009 was special on the European as well as on the Polish level. We had the opportunity to commemorate two important events which, each in its own way, have affected the history of our country and our continent. The first event to commemorate was the beginning of World War II on 1 September 1939. The first shots on the Westerplatte near Gdansk marked the beginning of a six-year-war. This showed the vast extent of murder of innocent civilians and prisoners and of material devastation a war could bring about. Poland suffered most from this conflict. Despite dramatic resistance it was occupied by two dictatorships – one being the German Nazis, the other the Soviet Union. Poland was changed drastically and brutally, mainly by repression. The policy of genocide was practiced, above all, by the Nazis, by murdering millions of Polish Jews. German occupation resulted in relocation, deportation, concentration camps - the sites of elimination and executions - but also in Poland’s inability to develop socially, and it led to the prevalence of the category of ‘subhuman’. In the eastern parts occupied by the Soviets, mainly the Polish suffered from detentions, expropriation and communist indoctrination, but also Belarussians, Ukrainians, and Jews. The population continues to bear the inner injuries of that time to this day. The Polish people view the last World War as a wound that is still open.

The division of Europe and the world after 1945 into two opposing political blocs made the situation of this oppressed nation even more difficult. Added to this were new boundaries and political oppression. Poland, just like other Eastern European countries, was situated within the zone of influence of the Soviet Union. Despite several attempts to shed it, they remained part of this ‚alliance‘ for a long time. Serious breaks with the Soviet Union only appeared when the Solidarnosc movement emerged. Polish leadership had tried to eliminate the movement at first, but it was too late by now to put a stop to the collapse of the system in Poland, just like it was in the other socialist countries.

The year 1989 could be termed a miracle, a time of national ascents which - as a rule - were not attempted to be stopped with violence. For the first time after 1945, the countries of Eastern-Central Europe saw unrest which might be boldly termed revolutionary. This time has sometimes been referred to as the ‘Autumn of Nations’. But the events cannot be restricted to just a few months. In addition to the ‘round table’ negotiations, the demonstrations in Berlin and other districts of the GDR, they also included protests in Prague and in other socialist countries. All this showed that Soviet domination had come to an end. The ‘friendship’, since it had been enforced, crumbled, and the liberated nations committed themselves to democracy, human rights, and freedom. The system of Yalta, the division of Europe by the Big Three (Truman, Churchill und Stalin), forced on many European countries against their will, was abolished. In this sense, 1989 was the true end of what World War Two had caused on the political level. The liberation that had been at the heart of dreams and hopes of so many people had come true for the nations that had been forced into the ‘family of socialist countries’. The celebrations of 2009 brought together all these features of the 20th century – the horrible genocides, the suffering, the defeats on the one hand, and freedom and victory of national solidarity on the other.

But did the Polish government do everything to make sure this connection of events was communicated clearly, so people in Poland, Europe and the world would understand? Did it make use of the anniversaries of 2009 to clarify the Polish perspective on history? Public discussions and speeches have always lamented a common European ignorance of this history of our country. Thus, 2009 offered an opportunity for a proper policy of history, a time to act rather than just complain. But commemorative days can also cause problems if they appear not utilizable politically in retrospection. This approach even threw suspicions on the round table negotiations between opposition and government in 1989 and the semi-free elections in 1989, as if all this was not worth commemorating. Political and personal injuries among former players confirmed this approach and damaged Poland’s external image. It culminated in harsh criticism of the leader of the Polish Solidarnosc, Lech Walesa, who had been the chief architect not only of the events of the 1970s and 1980s, but also of the subsequent decade. Such a conflict-oriented policy was bound to have negative effects on the relations with the Germans, which rank highly in our history.

After Jaroslaw Kaczynski’s national conservative government had been voted out of office in 2007, the time had come for the policy of history to find a new orientation. Tone and spirit have changed since, especially in foreign relations. Some projects have been cancelled, others have been modified. New ideas, such as the drafting of the German-Polish history book for schools or establishing a Museum of World War Two, were promoted.The establishment of the museum must be perceived as unique under the given circumstances. The founders want it to be a universally designed museum which shows history in its many dimensions. ‘The idea of creating such a museum was to illustrate the complexity of these events, that were tragic and harmful for the European people of the 20th century,’ say creators Pawel Machcewicz and Piotr Majewski; ‘an attempt to give a full picture of this war without blurring the diversity of this experience as experienced by different nations. This is the only way we can progress towards mutual understanding without this meaning equalisation. It is better to be different by knowing the differing opinions and experiences of the others, but without adhering blindly to any stereotypes.’

The reaction by right-wing conservative groups to such a scheme was predictable. The ideas of the joint German-Polish history book for schools and of the museum were strongly criticized. First of all, critics said it would mostly contain the German opinion and would therefore impose the Germans’ view of history. Secondly, they claimed that the Polish contribution towards the victory over Nazi Germany was being devalued or even relativized by comparing it with other countries‘ contributions. The loud and critical voices (even though this term does not reflect their true intentions) on the subject of Lech Walesa did not fade away either. Suddenly there was a trend to analyse and comment on preferably minor episodes and actions by Walesa down to the last detail. Finally, this led to the ‘realisation’ that he had not been the wonderful hero everyone had taken him for; a thesis that once again proved obsolete.

During that time, there was a growing number of publications on the changes of 1989 and plans on how to celebrate the commemoration days. On an international level, the fall of the Wall was increasingly seen as an icon of the victory over communism. On the urge to seek for a corresponding Polish icon, Minister of Culture Bogdan Zdrojewski wrote in 2008: ‘Next year, we will celebrate the 20th anniversary of the June events but must sadly acknowledge that, thanks to a rigorously anti-historic policy, it is believed that communism had ended with the fall of the Wall. The world even speaks of the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia. But nobody mentions the fact that this would never have occurred if it had not been for Poland, the Polish Solidarnosc, if it had not been for then Pope John Paul II. It is our duty to maintain national remembrance and not allow it to be forgotten, and likewise we need to talk about the history of Poland in a modern and attractive language. Let Europe and the world finally understand us!’ How right he is. But how should these commemoration days have turned out while there was no common basis for understanding in Poland? All this is also a matter of European remembrance. Here in Europe, too, opinions and memories differ a lot. The division remains the same: The East takes a different view on history than the West.

One test was the 60th anniversary of the end of World War Two in 2005, with its centralized ceremonies in Moscow. Objections brought forward by the victims of the Hitler-Stalin Pact were of no effect. To the societies in the West, World War Two was a fight against Nazism, in which the Soviet Union played a vital role. To the Russians, World War Two began when the German Nazis invaded the Soviet Union on 22 June 1941, marking the beginning of the Great Patriotic War. This view on the War, even if it is incorrect, was largely accepted in the western countries. The Holocaust was predominant not only in the accounts of Nazi victims, but also in accounts of the War as a whole. Extermination by the Soviets is a known fact only in countries that experienced it; they are the only ones that can remember it. This is why Latvian foreign minister Sandra Kalniete attracted a great deal of attention at the opening of the 2004 Leipzig Book Fair when she said: ‘After World War Two, an Iron Curtain separated Europe. Not only did it enslave the nations of Eastern Europe, but it also exterminated their entire history on the continent. Europe had just been liberated from Nazism, and it is understandable that after such carnage the people had no power left to face the truth. They were not strong enough to realise that Europe was still ruled by terror - that the Soviets still indulged in genocide behind this Iron Curtain. The history of Europe,’ she added, ‘was written without us. The history of the victors of World War Two very accurately separated good from bad, correct and incorrect. It was only after the Curtain had disappeared that researchers could gain access to the facts and life stories of the victims. The results show clearly that both totalitarisms - Nazism as well as Communism - were a crime.’ While these words were nothing new or outrageous in Poland, they caused great indignation in Germany. Sandra Kalniete was accused of putting history into perspective and perceiving Nazism and Communism as being the same thing. As could be seen from her following statements, this had not been her intention at all. She wanted to consider the victims of both regimes and make the West aware of them.

In Poland, the conflict between Prime Minister and President in 2009 evoked fears of rivalry between two centres in the area of policy of history. There were also concerns that the spectacular event of the fall of the Berlin Wall would overshadow all other events of 1989 which could likewise be seen as icons of the fight against communism. In retrospective, however, it must be emphasized that these concerns were unfounded. For a long time, World War Two had not been discussed there as intensely as in 2009. Moreover, these discussions were also held on a European level and have resulted in a plurality in European remembrance. The organisers of the German ceremony on the occasion of the fall of the Berlin Wall made sure that the events in other countries of Eastern Europe were not forgotten. The image of Lech Walesa, symbolically knocking over the first of thousands of dominoes representing the former division of the city, the country, and the continent, left quite an impression, especially in his home country.

Commemoration of the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact shortly before World War Two opened the eyes of many people who now became aware of the significance of the event and the consequences it brought for the countries of Eastern-Central Europe. The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and the outbreak of the World War were particularly addressed in the Federal Republic of Germany by conferences, publications and several new films. On the commemoration day of this pact, 140 German intellectuals spoke, in public and rather firmly, about the consequences of that German-Soviet alliance. ‘During these weeks and months, people all over Europe remember the overthrow of the communist dictatorships in Eastern- Central Europe,’ said the signers of the memorandum. ‘Celebrations and conferences, films and exhibitions recall the courage of the many civilians who not only overcame dictatorship with their peaceful protests but also created the preconditions for the implementation of democracy and for abolishing European and German division. The beginning of the separation and of communist rule over more than forty years was marked by World War Two. Hence it is with shame and grief that we remember 1 September 70 years ago, when national-socialist Germany attacked Poland. Eight days before, Germany and the Soviet Union had signed the disastrous Hitler-Stalin Pact, dividing up the Baltic States and Poland, Finland and Romania among themselves. The attack on Poland by Germany and the Soviet Union in September 1939 launched an unparalleled war of conquest and extermination. Through this war, Germany caused immense suffering to its neighbours, in particular Poland, but finally also to the Soviet Union.’

This was an important public comment since it pointed out clearly the genesis of the Polish tragedy and at the same time underlined the importance of this country for the later overthrow of communism. ‚We will not forget that it was, above all, Polish people who took the first step to clear the way for their own and our freedom against the communist system of power. We also thank the supporters of the Czechoslovak Charter 77 who encouraged us to live in truth. We remember all those who paved the way to democracy in Hungary and opened the Iron Curtain in the summer of 1989. Soviet dissidents stood up for keeping human rights long before glasnost and perestroika.’ Irrespective of their political orientation, Polish papers found these statements by the intellectuals pioneering and attached great importance to them.

The celebrations in the Westerplatte and the speeches made by the politicians of our neighbouring countries attracted much attention. German Chancellor Angela Merkel sent an important signal by deciding to come to Gdansk herself and thus take part officially in the celebrations. She demonstrated that the Germans - despite of being accused to try and re-write history (especially that of World War Two) - have not changed their attitude to World War Two. On the contrary, they commemorate this tragedy with great humility and are aware of their own responsibility. The participation of Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, however, was anticipated with some concern and displeasure. Many people still kept a distressing and disappointing memory of the celebrations in Moscow in 2005 which had been a rather resounding commemoration of the end of World War Two. Russia only remembered its own Great Patriotic War but said nothing about collaboration with the Germans between 1939 and 1941. Shortly before Putin‘s speech in Poland there had also been anti-Polish campaigns that had been designed to belittle the significance and role of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and had even accused Poland of collaboration with the Nazis. Putin’s speech therefore was assessed as hardly tangible and vague by some observers. They would have been satisfied only by a condemnation of both Stalin and the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Yet we must remember that Putin made some important statements, such as on starting a new Polish-Russian dialogue and on constructing a common house of history. Once again, the difficulties in Polish-Russian communication came out, and, again, it became apparent how fragile this dialogue is and that it can by no means be compared to the Polish-German dialogue. It has its very own nature and temperament. Lately, the Russian side – possibly because of the significance of history to Poland - has shown goodwill, which was also noticeable on occasion of the tragic plane crash at Smolensk in April 2010, in which Polish President Lech Kaczynski and other high-ranking Polish politicians and military representatives were killed. Some statements by Russian President Medvedev indicate a change in the perception of the crimes committed by Stalin. ‘Talking about Stalin and the individuals working under his leadership, we must say that they committed a crime. This is obvious to everyone. They committed a crime against their own nation, and in a way, also against history,’ Medvedev said in 2010. It is hard to predict if this trend will continue. But it is backed by more arguments than it was in the commemoration year of 2009.

The commemorative festivities of the last year also highlight another aspect – that of European remembrance. Many historians doubt the evolution of such a thing. It is hard to contradict them. Very often this remembrance is associated with the policy of history of the EU. Even in this case there is no agreement on what should be part of the historical memory. This is best proved by the difficulties in designing a common museum as well as the European history book. It seems that the answer to these issues lies in accepting the diversity of memories of the European peoples. Just like it was in the past of the Old Continent, this diversity is an advantage today, if we commit ourselves to the same values. It is true that values are not discussed quite often enough in a globalised world. Plurality of memory does not mean arbitrariness or coincidence, but rather respect and tolerance for the memory of another person. Diversity can only be achieved by means of dialogue, which again is a feature of united Europe. This is a challenge not just for Poland, Germany or Russia, but for all European countries. As the German intellectuals said in their memorandum, ‘Just like 1939, the year of 1989 has become a fateful year for Europe, but in a contrasting way. A free and democratic Europe must be aware of its history. It needs the memory of the communist era and of overcoming it.’

Within the sphere of commemoration and education on history we need to return to dialogue and cooperation. Goodwill alone is not enough: responsible steps are required. It is not so much a question of mutual relations, but rather a question of attitudes within the entire European family. Today more than ever, the continent needs calmness, prudence and stability. It needs positive signs. Europe expects from us to explain historical events expertly without turning them against ourselves, but rather overcoming them within the context of human experience and the challenges of a dramatic historical heritage. The year 1989, however, was the year of an important breakthrough, a chance that nations very rarely get.

Krzysztof Ruchniewicz, Prof. Dr. phil., born 1967, director of the Willy-Brandt-Center for German and European Studies at the University of Wroclaw, Professorship for Contemporary History