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I guess this MP, judging by his name, has Polish connections..As far as winning votes is concerned, I would have thought that the number of Polish residents in that neck of the woods might be rather low, certainly not large enough to have made much difference anyway.Don't know where your coming from Leon with your latter remarks though. I totally agree with you regarding Public Holidays for various minority contributions. Our Polish Friends have a perfectly good War Memorial at Northolt.On Battle of Britain Day the ceremony there always moves me.I wonder if our Conservative MP knows of its existance? Would have thought so,but maybe not.To suggest that somehow as another contributer to this thread has done,that the Polish Contribution in that Battle was solely motivated by what happened in Poland whilst true, non the less ignores the fact that their blood was shed in our skys, and by inference seems to demean what in fact was a common purpose.I cannot quite equate your remarks lumping The Battle of Britain with the Armada or The Corn Laws Leon, seemed rather snide and politically motivated, but I might be wrong on that.I don't know your age, but for me WW2 still has great relavence, and I get very angry at the flippant way some people refer to it all betraying the sacrifices that were made then. If the BBC is using our Polish Friends as a soft target they are not alone, there are two National Newspapers that are pretty good at it too, when it comes to denegrating certain groups that upset their squeemish PC attitudes. Rant over. I shall now go and enjoy the Sunshine, and reflect that I can do this because  the Battles of the past have made that possible.

Colin Vaughan ● 6647d

From a book review in the New York Times! Not balanced but quite a lot of interesting  and pertinent remarks."Sometime in the late 1950’s, a pair of Jewish newlyweds walked arm-in-arm down the streets of Lodz. Like all surviving Polish Jews of their generation, the two had lived through the Holocaust against enormous odds, making the joy of that moment all the more poignant. “Look at them,” a well-dressed passer-by suddenly sneered, loud enough for them to hear. “It’s like they’re in Tel Aviv.” To them, his message was clear: Jews had no business living in Poland, let alone being happy there.I thought of these two people, who later became friends of mine, as I read Jan T. Gross’s new book, “Fear: Anti-Semitism in Poland After Auschwitz.” The Polish-born Gross, a professor of history at Princeton University, does not recount their story; even had he known it, there’d have been no room, or time. He has too many greater indignities to relate. He has to tell how surviving Polish Jews, having escaped the fate of 90 percent of their community — three million people — returned to their homeland to be vilified, terrorized and, in some 1,500 instances, murdered, sometimes in ways as bestial as anything the Nazis had devised.One might have thought that if anything could have cured Poland of its anti-Semitism, it was World War II. Polish Jews and Christians were bonded, as never before, by unimaginable suffering at the hands of a common foe. One might also have thought there’d have been pity for the Jewish survivors, most of whom had lost nearly everything: their homes, their youth, their hope, their entire families. Besides, there were so few of them left to hate: only 200,000 or so in a population of 20 million.Instead, returning Polish Jews encountered an anti-Semitism of terrible fury and brutality. Small wonder, then, that nearly as soon as they set foot on Polish soil, most fled all over again. Many went westward, to a place that, oddly enough, had suddenly become an oasis of tranquillity and safety by comparison: Germany. Far from being celebrated, those Poles who had sheltered Jews during the war — and there were many — begged them to say nothing, lest their neighbors deride them as “Jew lovers,” or beat them, or break into their homes (searching for the money the Jews had surely left behind) or kill them.Polish attitudes toward the Germans remain understandably bitter. During his trip to Poland this May, when he visited Auschwitz, the German-born Pope Benedict XVI took care to speak mostly in Italian. But as Gross reminds us, in at least one respect many Poles applauded Hitler: just as he offered a final solution to Germany’s Jewish problem, he was taking care of Poland’s, too. Nazi policies toward the Jews, the legendary underground Polish diplomat Jan Karski reported to his government-in-exile in London in 1940, formed “a sort of narrow bridge where the Germans and a large part of Polish society meet in harmony.”It wasn’t only Karski saying so. Eyewitnesses in the Warsaw ghetto saw Poles watching approvingly or even helping out, acting as spotters as German soldiers shot Jews. Polish girls were overheard joking, “Come, look, how cutlets from Jews are frying,” as the ghetto burned. Nazi accounts of Judenjagd, or “Jew hunts,” detailed how Poles pitched in to find any stray Jews the Germans somehow managed to miss. As the deportations proceeded, and practically before the trains had left for Chelmno or Belzec or Treblinka, Poles gathered on the outskirts of towns, waiting to plunder Jewish property or move into Jewish homes. And while the Nazis killed millions of Jews, Poles killed thousands — most famously, as Gross related in “Neighbors” (2001), a book that caused an uproar in Poland, 1,600 of them in the town of Jebwabne in July 1941 — crimes little noted at the time nor since remembered in Polish history books.With the war over, and to tumultuous applause, a thousand delegates of the Polish Peasants Party actually passed a resolution thanking Hitler for annihilating Polish Jewry and urging that those he’d missed be expelled. Indeed, the mopping up soon began. Returning to their villages and towns, Jews were routinely greeted with remarks like “So, ____? You are still alive.” Their efforts to retrieve property were futile — and, sometimes, fatal. Some Jews met their end on trains — not cattle cars this time, but passenger trains, from which they were thrown off. If the trains weren’t moving fast enough, they were beaten to death.This is a book filled with arresting, appalling images. There’s Treblinka, September 1945: a lunar landscape pockmarked with craters, where Poles had dug thousands of holes searching for gold fillings amid the bones and ashes. Or Polish synagogues disassembled for construction projects, and Jewish cemeteries used for landfill. Or Jewish schoolchildren being harassed and Jewish artisans and professionals denied work.With the police and courts looking the other way, Jews were murdered randomly, or in pogroms. Behind these massacres, invariably, was the old canard of Jews killing Christian children for their blood, but with a new twist: Jews now craved gentile blood not just to make matzos, supposedly, but to fortify their own emaciated selves.In the most notorious episode, 60 years ago this month, residents of Kielce, among them policemen, soldiers and boy scouts, murdered 80 Jews. “The immense courtyard was still littered with blood-stained iron pipes, stones and clubs, which had been used to crush the skulls of Jewish men and women,” the Polish-Jewish journalist Saul Shneiderman wrote the following day. It was the largest peacetime pogrom in 20th-century Europe, Gross says. But he maintains that Kielce was nothing special: during this era, it could have taken place anywhere in Poland. Polish intellectuals, Gross notes, were mortified by what was happening in their country. Only a psychopath, one wrote, could have imagined such cruelty.Days before the pogrom, the Polish primate, Cardinal August Hlold, had spurned Jewish entreaties to condemn Roman Catholic anti-Semitism. Afterward, he charged that by leading the effort to impose Communism on Poland — Jews were in fact prominent in the party, though hardly in control — the Jews had only themselves to blame. The point was seconded by the bishop of Kielce, who suggested that Jews had actually orchestrated the unrest to persuade Britain to hand over Palestine. It was a neat trick: being Communists and Zionists simultaneously. Only the bishop of Czestochowa condemned the killings, and was promptly reprimanded by his colleagues. One wonders how Karol Wojtyla, then a young seminarian, later Pope John Paul II, viewed this cesspool of ignorance and intolerance."

Sara Nathan ● 6646d