Interview 2

Interview 2, Bauman

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CONVERSATION WITH
JANINA BAUMAN AND
ZYGMUNT BAUMAN
Ulrich Bielefeld
Translated by David Roberts
ZB:
Zygmunt Bauman,
UB:
Ulrich Bielefeld,
JB:
Janina Bauman
UB:
You had to begin life again twice, after the liberation of Warsaw
at the end of the National Socialist terror and after 1968, when you left
Poland. Your experiences of the liberation of Poland were very different.
ZB:
When I was 18 in 1943 I joined the Polish Army which had been
formed in Russia. I had lived since 1939 in Russia and thus had no personal
experience of the occupation of Poland. My parents as Jews were worried
by the arrival of the Nazis and we went to eastern Poland which Russia had
occupied. Then we moved further and further into the country. My parents
stayed in the north of European Russia until they returned. I joined the Army
and returned to Poland with it. That’s how it was. I was in Poland during the
Warsaw uprising, my regiment was on one side of the river, Janina on the
other.
JB:
We didn’t know each other then. All the same I prayed to him:
please take Warsaw. We first met in 1948. We were both studying at the same
university, the Warsaw Academy of Social Sciences. There was no sociology
then. I studied social sciences and journalism.
ZB:
I took my Masters degree at Warsaw University in philosophy, but
my further studies (doctorate and higher doctorate) were in sociology.
UB:
You were both active members of the Communist Party. You had
a concrete utopia, you wanted to build a socialist society.
ZB:
Certainly. Poland was a completely underdeveloped country
before the Second World War. There were eight million unemployed, no
Thesis Eleven
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Copyright © 2002
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Thesis Eleven (Number 70 2002)
hope, an unimaginable social inequality. And we had the idea of creating a
new Poland, with all our energy.
JB:
I joined the Party only in 1951, much later than Zygmunt who
joined in 1946. Before I started studying and before I met Zygmunt I was a
Zionist. I was not brought up as a Jew. Nobody in my family was religious,
nobody was a Zionist. It was the Nazis who made me a Jew in the ghetto. I
wanted to go to Israel and work in the desert. I was ready to go and it was
only by chance that I didn’t. Then I started studying, read Marx and Engels
and began to think. Then I met Zygmunt. He was the first honest commu-
nist that I had come across. I hadn’t given much thought to communism. He
was the first one I really respected.
ZB:
I made some anti-Zionist propaganda and persuaded her to stay.
I was not brought up as a Jew. I had no relation to Jewish life. I hadn’t been
in the ghetto. There I might have learnt to be Jewish. One can say many bad
things about the Soviet Russians of the time but the problem of nationality
was not very important. I was Jewish but nobody took any notice. I joined
the Polish Army, returned to Poland and felt myself to be Polish. I only recog-
nized my Jewishness in 1967. Then there was not only an anti-intellectual
but also an anti-Semitic campaign in Poland.
UB:
You left the Party then – and became as a Polish Jew a stranger
in your own country. What happened to make you leave the country?
ZB:
In the first place we left Poland for a very simple reason. We had
three daughters and we had lost our jobs. We had been thrown out every-
where. In March 1968 the student revolt in Warsaw occurred and six profes-
sors were accused of responsibility for the student protests against the Party.
All six of us heard on the radio on 25 March 1968 that we had been dis-
missed. Nobody had said anything about it before. Leszek Kolakowski was
one of them. Only one stayed in Poland and has now got his professorship
back. He was unemployed for years.
JB:
From 1967 on we were being reminded again that we were Jews
or Zionist, which Zygmunt never was.
ZB:
The communist newspapers of the time read like the Nazi
Stürmer
,
they used the same language. Someone even discovered that an instruction
from leading members of the Communist Party was a literal translation from
the
Stürmer
. I had never changed my name. Others who had earlier changed
their names to Polish ones were ‘unmasked’ in the newspapers. It was a really
terrible atmosphere then. Most Polish Jews had the same experiences. They
did not feel themselves Jewish but Polish. Suddenly they had to realize that
this was not the case. If you ask me how I became a Jew, this was the way
that it happened.
UB:
If I take your earlier writings –
Between Class and Elite
,
Culture as
Praxis
– I can’t read your Polish work – I find in them the classical socio-
logical themes.
ZB:
You are right. I don’t think all this influenced my work. I only
Bielefeld: Conversation with Janina and Zygmunt Bauman
115
became interested in Jewish problems and the role of the Jew in modern
culture – I must admit – through the influence of Janina’s
Winter in the
Morning
. I suddenly realized that I had absolutely no understanding of this
event. Like most sociologists I hadn’t thought about it. It was only a marginal
event then, the exception to the rule. Well, I came to other conclusions. Ambi-
guity and ambivalence, terror and anxiety about ambivalence are in fact the
central theme of modern civilization, not just a marginal phenomenon. But I
didn’t recognize this through direct personal experience but through intel-
lectual influences. I did not experience the process of assimilation, which I
described in
Modernity and Ambivalence
, I was not part of this process. It
was my ancestors who went through that for me, I was already on the other
side and didn’t belong to the assimilating generation.
UB:
To use your image for the assimilating generation: you weren’t
sitting on the slippery barricade, pulled to both sides and pulled apart?
ZB:
Perhaps I thought at that time that there is no barricade. I didn’t
see it. There were problems: as a Pole I was not a Soviet Pole but a foreign
Pole in Russia. But I was a Pole in Russia, not a Jew.
UB:
You went to Israel from Poland in 1968. Was that the only possi-
bility of finding a position or was Israel a goal, your country?
JB:
As far as I’m concerned, my family was in Israel. If I had to leave
my country then I wanted to go to my mother and my sister. I wanted to go
to Israel, Zygmunt never wanted to. On the other hand, we were only
allowed to go to Israel, we were pushed out with this destination. We couldn’t
stay any longer. We had both been dismissed. After 20 years work for Polish
cinema I was dismissed.
ZB:
In order to leave Poland we had to apply for an entry visa. Only
Israel gave such visas. This was the only way to get a one-way exit visa from
the Polish authorities. Nevertheless, we didn’t have to go to Israel. We were
first in a refugee camp in Vienna and I had an invitation from Robert
McKenzie to come to England, also invitations from Montreal and Vienna.
Prague University also offered me a position, it hadn’t yet been taken over
by the Russians. Only from Israel I didn’t have an offer. We went there
without any security, I couldn’t speak Hebrew and thus could only teach in
English. Nobody offered me a job despite my enquiries. But we didn’t go
there for a position but because Janina wanted to go to her mother and sister.
UB:
Why did you leave Israel after three years?
ZB:
I wanted to leave after one year.
JB:
He never wanted to be there.
ZB:
I had another possibility in Australia and I still regret not going
there as I like Australia a lot. But Janina was not willing to go, it was too far.
Then I got a telegram from Leeds University inviting me and I accepted. They
wanted someone for the vacant Chair of Sociology and we moved to Leeds.
UB:
It was then a long time before you began to be interested in the
problem of ambivalence, of the ‘war against ambivalence’ and the Holocaust.
116
Thesis Eleven (Number 70 2002)
The catalyst was Janina’s description of her ghetto experiences. The metaphor
of the ‘state as gardener’, of the state as the one who distinguishes between
plants and weeds, was first used by you in
Legislators and Interpreters
. Or
were there already anticipations in earlier writings?
ZB:
Beginning with the very early book
Culture and Society
– pub-
lished in Poland in the early sixties – my interest switched from social struc-
ture to culture, in which I saw the most powerful historical force.
Legislators
and Interpreters
, the first book of the trilogy of books about modernity, is
the continuation. My interest in the internal contradictions of modern culture
extends over many years, it is difficult to give an exact date. Before
Legis-
lators and Interpreters
I wrote
Memories of Class
. This was my farewell to
reading history as class history. In it I critically examined explanations of
history, of social dynamics in terms of class conflict. Perhaps a little earlier
than most western sociologists. I was thus in a situation comparable to the
present situation in Europe because the disappearance of the conflict
between the communist and western world has left an empty space. But what
takes its place, what the central theme is now, that is what I was searching
for and
Legislators and Interpreters
was the product of my search. The begin-
ning of my interest in this problematic was a book about intellectuals.
UB:
Is it still a long way from intellectuals to strangers?
ZB:
No. You will find in this book a reference to the underdetermined
position of intellectuals themselves. Intellectuals are themselves strangers.
One can’t be an intellectual if one is not also to some extent a stranger. Niklas
Luhmann writes that we are all to some extent ‘displaced’, and Karl
Mannheim only repeated what Shestov had already written. This theme, the
question of the stranger, of alienation, and the inherent critique which is
endemic as it were to the position of the intellectual, continues to interest
me. I wanted to find out what experience lies behind it and how it is
reflected.
UB:
Was the ‘invention’, the production of the ‘conceptual Jew’ as
‘inner enemy’ the result of an intellectual effort, of an intellectual definition?
ZB:
You remember that in
Modernity and the Holocaust
there are two
chapters concerned with anti-Semitism and the comparison of the two very
different forms. The old and the new anti-Semitism are very different
phenomena. The new anti-Semitism is based on quite different conditions to
the old. The new grounds I found in the problem of the ‘slimy’, the ‘liquid’.
The stranger sits on the barricade, he is neither here nor there, he belongs
neither inside nor outside. This thorn in the body of modern society is
directed against the kernel of the modern project; transparency, clarity,
rationality. But this didn’t work.
UB:
The image of the ‘state as gardener’ gives the impression of unity,
of a unified development of the emerging Europe of national states. There
are, however, different gardens and different types of garden such as the
English and the French gardens, there are different forms of the desire for
Bielefeld: Conversation with Janina and Zygmunt Bauman
117
assimilation, and there are also perhaps historical conditions which apply
specifically to Germany and made the developments leading to the Holo-
caust in Germany more probable.
ZB:
Perhaps I overemphasize the non-national grounds for the origins
of the Holocaust, that is, overemphasize that it is not a German question. I
think this is necessary because the whole tendency of argument in sociology
is to do what you did, that is, to relate the event to specifically German ques-
tions. But what I wanted to say and still say at every opportunity: don’t be
self-satisfied, the roots of this event are everywhere, they are only waiting to
be fertilized and to bear fruit. Of course there were particular grounds in
Germany which didn’t exist elsewhere. French anti-Semitism was much
livelier than in Germany before Hitler. The first really anti-Semitic pamphlet,
which strongly influenced the development of modern anti-Semitism, was
Louis Drumont’s
La France Juive
. The first person to write that Jews should
be burnt in ovens and be gassed, was the Frenchman Céline. Nobody in
Germany wrote about incinerating Jews. They did finally incinerate the Jews
but nobody wrote about it. The material, the raw material was there, what
made Germany different? Simply that it became a nation later and this process
is still not completed, because they now have problems with their East
Germans. The nation was very young, very insecure, and in addition the state
was destroyed in 1918 and the national state lost its continuity, its traditional
legitimacy. One had to start again, there was the Bavarian revolt in Munich
as well as others. All this created a specific problem of identity which was
far more virulent than in all the other long-established national states.
UB:
You mean that the state is of great importance for the protection
of minorities or strangers? We need the state but at the same time it is also
responsible as gardener for the atrocities done to strangers and precisely to
the exemplary strangers, the Jews.
ZB:
Contemporary neoliberalism is in part the product of the fact that
the holy trinity of the traditional nation state, economy, political and cultural
sovereignty, is dissolving. Economic sovereignty is dissolving upwards into
the European institutions, into multinational companies, etc. Indeed the state
has only a limited economic sovereignty. At the same time it is losing its
cultural sovereignty as it is no longer very interested in cultural homogene-
ity, in assimilation, in unifying. This is dissolving downwards into the market,
into the groups, the ethnic minorities. What is left is pure political sovereignty
without economic or cultural support. And this is what makes today’s nation
state so weak. There is probably no power which could organize an indus-
trial action like the Holocaust. On the other hand there is plenty of space for
‘tribal’ violence.
This interview originally appeared in
Mittelweg
36 (1993) and is published with
permission.
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