The speaker suddenly became quiet, interrupting his speech. A dead silence reigned in the hall. The several hundred people, who had come to the International Socialist meeting of the English Labor Party, earnest and moved, were listening to the Jewish representative
The speaker suddenly became quiet, interrupting his speech. A dead silence reigned in the hall. The several hundred people, who had come to the International Socialist meeting of the English Labor Party, earnest and moved, were listening to the Jewish representative of the Polish National Council, the leader of the Bund, Shmuel (Arthur) Zigelboim. He described the gruesome deeds that the Germans were doing in Poland, read reports from the underground in Warsaw, told about the revolts in the ghetto about the heroic struggle and tragic death of the remnant of Jews. He had already been speaking for two hours to the non-Jews about the tragedy of a people who were being murdered systematically. Was he finished? The quiet lasted a minute. Zigelboim heard the quiet. He knew that he must speak further. He had lost the bond with those who were listening to him for only one minute, carried away by thoughts of the way people were living and seeing everything he was talking about and describing. He felt a meaninglessness in his speech, in searching for words, in giving speeches and making appearances in the light of the savage realities. This only lasted for a minute. He immediately brought himself back into the room; this was his duty, the only remedy to speak to them, to make them believe what was happening there, being struck by fear and calling forth a response of protest in the world. He started speaking again: Today, you have heard the frightening news from Poland; these are facts that make blood curdle in the veins. I have in my hand an excerpt from a letter that a Jewish woman in one ghetto wrote to her sister in another ghetto in Poland. The letter is a shocking call to the world. The woman writes:
My hand shakes. I cannot write, our minutes are numbered; only God knows if we will see each other again. I write and I cry; my children lament. They want so much to live We all say goodbye to you. [Zigelboim continues,] Thus is the atmosphere in which the Jews live in the ghetto of Poland. Try to imagine the people who see their nearest being dragged away to their death every day and each one knows that their turn must come. Imagine the thousands of Jewish mothers, the mothers who look at their children and know that their
death is inevitable. Imagine the mothers from whom the children are torn from their hands with one smash into the wall. The little head of the child spatters in small pieces in front of the mothers. Imagine the great crime of methodically massacring an entire people. Each of us who understands the cruelty of the crime must be grabbed by the feeling of shame that we find ourselves among the living, to belong to the human genus, if means are not found to stop the greatest crime in human history. The conscience of everyone must be shaken; the serenity must be exploded for those who ignore the facts, with their self-deception that makes them skeptical. Each of us who does not do everything possible to stop the mass slaughter will take upon themselves moral co-responsibility for [the dead]. In the name of the hopeless innocent people sentenced to death in the ghettos of Poland, whose hands stretched out to the world cannot be seen, I call to all people, to all nations, whose conscience is still weak, wipe off the burning shame that is thrown on the human race, force the Nazi murderers to stop the systematic massacre of a people.
Zigelboim left the hall alone; the people who congratulated him disturbed him, shaking his hand for his beautiful speech. He ran from them. He again had the feeling of despair and helplessness. It was a year's time that he was the representative of Polish Jewry in the Polish Government in Exile. He wrote, spoke, warned, pressed, did not let pass any opportunities to enlighten, to persuade, to call and to beg for help and everything struck a deaf wall of disbelief and indifference. He was the representative of a people that was being killed cold-bloodedly. If only he was seen to save one single soul. Yes, people come to hear him. What he has to say affects the people. However, it is a superficial effect; afterward they return to their daily lives. A few do not believe him. It is said that this is characteristic Jewish hysteria and, if there is a little truth, it is far away and, meanwhile we are alive. Yes, he knows that many of his Jewish and non-Jewish friends have begun to avoid him. He poisons their lives; they feel uncomfortable in his company. He knows what they think: How can such a person always and constantly live only with one thought; he takes this too seriously, this Zigelboim. Well, yes, of course, one can be a representative, give public speeches, send 