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which he borrowed from a nearby library—were his friends. “I had some good classmates, but very few
friends” (p. 77). “The few friends I made were ‘special cases’ like me” (p. 78).
In that classroom, there were five of us (or at least that’s how the rest of the class decided it). One of the five would die
in the Holocaust; one still lives in Warsaw today. The other three, including myself, left their country. At least physically.
[...] And since Berger High School was the only one in the city that did not practice numerus nullus, only two Jewish boys
had entered secondary school that year in all of Poznan. (BAUMAN 2024, p.81)
The highlighted excerpt from the reviewed work reveals, to a certain extent, the extent of prejudice the
young Bauman faced in his early years of schooling. Numerus nullus was one of the forms of discrimination
adopted in Poland during the interwar period and refers to the total exclusion or prohibition of access for a
specific group (historically, Jews) to educational institutions, professions, or public office.
In 3. The Fate of a Refugee and Soldier, the sociologist recounts his memories of World War II beginning
with the German invasion of Poland in September 1939. Since Poznan was only 95 kilometers from the
border and was one of the largest cities in that region, the Bauman family found themselves forced—or rather,
literally “dragged”—eastward in their flight for survival. Zygmunt briefly recounts how he was separated
from his sister—who, along with her daughter and husband, obtained British passports and chose to migrate
to Palestine—while he, his father, and his mother first took refuge in Molodeczno (before passing through
various points between Poland and Soviet territories). There, Bauman experienced a brief acceptance of his
identity, as the language spoken was a mixture of Russian, Polish, Yiddish, and a peasant dialect that some
intellectuals dreamed of elevating to the status of literary Belarusian. The category to which each person
belonged was either accidental or by choice. “I found my Zion in Molodeczno. I joined the local equivalent
of Hashomer Hatzair—the Komsomol” (BAUMAN 2024, pp.103–104). However, the breakdown of the
Hitler-Stalin Pact sent the Baumans even further away: to Gorky (now Nizhny Novgorod, Russia). There, the
sociologist spent his youth enduring immense hardships in unsanitary labor camps.
I was starving. I would live in hunger for the next two and a half years, until my life in the army began. Not hungry from
time to time, but hungry 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I was hungry while waiting for food, and hungry after eating.
[...] To this day, I cannot sleep if there is no bread in the house. And I have never been able to get as excited about any
food—no matter how refined—as I am about bread. Bread, after all, is what matters. (BAUMAN 2024, p.108)
It is worth noting the great difficulties his father faced in finding any job and how much his mother’s
culinary skills (with them, but especially with the soldiers for whom she cooked) ensured the little food they
had during this period. Upon completing high school, Bauman enlisted and anxiously awaited the draft notice,
which came only when he turned eighteen. He was recruited into a rather strange division, initially
responsible for managing traffic in Moscow. “We were, so to speak, thugs recruited to guard the vault. It was
impossible to imagine people like us sympathizing with the Muscovites if there were any trouble...”
(BAUMAN 2024, p.116). Later, on the front lines, he helped liberate Poland from the Germans, but “It took
half a century for me to learn, from the newspapers of my homeland, that everything I was doing with my
comrades-in-arms was done in the name of enslaving the homeland, not its liberation” (BAUMAN 2024,
p.129). In this passage, the sociologist offers a brief, veiled critique of the fact that Poland was “handed over”
to the Soviet regime after the end of World War II.
In Chapter 4, “Maturation,” Bauman briefly examines the diverse experiences of Polish Jews during World
War II and how, subsequently, the return of some (refugees) and the continued presence of others (who had
escaped the massacre by hiding and/or living on the run) once again caused unease among those who believed
themselves to be “pure Poles.” Bauman did not wish to remain in the army, but he eventually willingly
accepted a position assigned to him for the reconstruction of Poland, now under the Soviet socialist regime.
He held a position that allowed him to study, but when he wanted to resume his academic life, his transcripts
from Gorky University, where he had been a physics student, were denied; and so, as he already felt drawn
to studies directly involved in “fixing society,” he enrolled in the Warsaw Academy of Political Sciences,
where he met Janina. “And it was certainly no accident that I never stopped loving her over the next sixty