Dzieci wojny – Children of war

To Kraków for the opening of Children of War, a temporary exhibition at the Schindler's Factory museum. It tells the stories, in words and photographs and artefacts, of 13 children, all under the age of 11 when war broke out, explaining how it affected them and how they survived, Jew and gentile alike. 

Since work began on curating this exhibition, six of the 13 have died, unable to finally witness their testimony on display at the museum. Three were present at the opening, the eldest being 96 years old. 

A small but particularly moving exhibition, looking at the horrors of war through the eyes of children. Interest in the opening was such that it was the museum cinema, venue for the official part, was crammed to overflowing, and seeing the exhibition was a tight squeeze.

A part of the exhibition – and the direct reason for my presence – was a part dedicated to the Szkoła Młodszych Ochotniczek (SMO - in English, the Polish Young Women's Auxiliary Service School), home to my mother for most of the war. Her army suitcase, filled with her exercise books were on display, which for me serve as a testament to the focus and hard work expected of the pupils.

Left: uniform jacket as worn by girls at SMO, and some of the diplomas awarded there.

The most moving part of the exhibition for me were the drawings made by Polish children who'd survived the war of what they'd witnessed. These were counterpointed by those made by Ukrainian children from Kharkiv illustrating what they saw in the early days of the full-scale Russian invasion.

Another poignant moment was the testimony of the daughter of two Jews who had been saved by Oskar Schindler by inclusion on his famous list. Mother and father fell in love in the camp, survived the war and settled in Israel. Their daughter, born there, was forthright in her condemnation of what her government was doing to Palestinian children in Gaza.

I would like to acknowledge the splendid work carried out by Alicja Szkuta in keeping alive the memory of the SMO, which educated over 1,000 Polish girls in Nazareth from 1942 to the end of the war. All three of my Saturday Polish school teachers who taught me Polish language, literature, history and geography in the 1960s and early '70s – Pani Skąpska, Pani Szkoda and Pani Wolańska – were all alumni of the SMO. The knowledge they passed on to the British-born generation of post-war Poles were invaluable in maintaining our Polish heritage in the UK.

I would also like to thank Beata Łabno, curator at the Schindler's Factory museum, not only for putting together such an emotionally compelling exhibition, but also for recommending and reserving for me one of the most memorable night's accommodation I've ever enjoyed – in the guest rooms inside Wawel castle itself. But more on that in the next post... 

There are many things that Poland is good at, and running world-class museums is among them, Children of War runs as a temporary exhibition at the Oscar Schindler Factory museum until 30 August 2026. I highly recommend it, a reminder that the youngest suffer the most when two sides go to war.

This time last year:
Ten grand a year

This time two years ago:
The ephemeral pleasures of materialism

This time three years ago:
W-wa Zachodnia modernisation – a long way to go
(Three years on: still not finished)

This time four years ago:

The Wilderness and the Garden 

This time five years ago:
Back in Aviation Valley

This time six years ago:
My flight to Rzeszów – delayed

This time nine years ago:
English as she is used in Europe

This time ten years ago:
Where asphalt is needed – Nowy Podolszyn to Zgorzala

This time 15 years ago:
I cycle to work along the cyclepath along ul. Rosoła

This time 17 years ago:
First apple 

Prophesy

For a species that communicates instantaneously, that has access to the sum of human knowledge accessible at a few strokes of the keyboard, we continue to be absolutely useless at foretelling the future. 

Why can't we just know when the next global war  or pandemic will break out? Or who'll be the next culturally significant rock'n'roller, head of state or iconic actor to pop their clogs? What will be the value of the dollar at the end of this year? Will we get snow this winter? 

We don't like change, nevertheless, we like it when things improve. Transitioning from a sub-optimal situation to a better state is never easy, but with hindsight, we see that the change had indeed been worth it. And yet the introduction of something good and new often carries with it other changes that are not so good. Think of the end of communism in Poland and its neighbours. 

Because we're so utterly incapable of predicting outcomes, because the systems and systems within systems in which we live are so incredibly complex, unintended consequences of decisions made to improve things go awry. Mathematically, the exponential rise of complexity leads to chaos. Human life was so much less complex at the time of the Oracle of Delphi.

As a species, we're good at history. We remember, we tell each other stories about our shared past and our heritage. We can grasp narratives. With the benefit of hindsight, we know why this war or that war was fought, why this particular economic policy turned out to be a failure, or why some product ended up being a far greater success on the market than anyone had dared predict.

Things seem to get worse quicker than they get better, or so it seems to us. Poland's improving quality of life is something that one sees clearly over the space of decades; it is harder to observe and quantify from one month to the next. New infrastructure takes a long time to roll out; Warsaw West railway station being a good example (the underground passage between platforms was meant to have opened on 1 September, is now meant to open in 'September'. What's a few more days after nearly six years on the job? Still, once complete, it will be massively, wildly, better than the old station.

I started writing this blog yesterday, unaware that this morning, I'd wake to the news that multiple Russian drones have flown across Polish territory, an event that no one predicted last night. Once the news cycle gets cranked up, the pundits start to spout. I've come to learn that the best predictor of whether Poland's really in a bad place or whether this will all blow over is to look at the financial markets. The złoty barely budged against the euro, staying at the lower end of the 4.25-4.30 złoty band, where it's been since April. [For worriers: Putin's forces cannot seize Pokhrovsk, so going full-on against NATO is doomed to fail from the outset.]

If you can't nail down the future empirically, using the tools of logic – deduction and induction – coupled with our recent ability to crunch vast amounts of data, then metaphysics – intuition – is the only way forward. And ward off truly bad things from happening by considering them, and then expressing gratitude when they don't happen. And not getting complacent.

This time seven years ago:
Comfort comes in layers

This time eight years ago:
Preference and familiarity

This time nine years ago:
A long day in wonderful Wrocław

This time 11 years ago:
Putin will not heal Russia's tortured soul

This time 12 years ago:
Opole, little-known town

This time 13 years ago:
Raise a glass to Powiśle 

This time 15 years ago:
Mud, rain and local elections 

This time 17 years ago:
There must be a better way (commuting woes)

Strange storm-crossed sky

Mobile phones across Poland received the alerts from the RCB (government security centre) warning citizens of the possibility of violent storms, strong wind and hail. I checked the online weather radar map, which showed intense downpours to the south-east, heading this way. Shortly before five, it began raining, accompanied by rumbles of thunder.

Below: the storm was brief and the clouds deposited little rain. The light is wonderful. Time for a second walk to catch the klimat.

Below: this scene put in mind of the African savanna, hundred of thousands of years ago.

Below: the trailing edge of the passing storm clouds heads east. Apples are approaching optimal ripeness.

Below: the sun approaches the horizon. Or rather, the horizon approaches the sun.

Left: a massive enlargement of a tiny object in the western sky... this is neither an aeroplane nor a helicopter, but an autogyro, where an unpowered rotor provides lift, the thrust from a pusher propeller powered by a piston engine.

Below: the sun has set, and the Radom-bound Koleje Mazowieckie train is approaching Chynów station.

A time to reflect upon the power of gratitude.

This time five years ago:
God and gratitude
[what a meaningful synchronicity...]

This time six years ago:
Defending one's country is a costly business

This time 13 years ago:
Back to work

This time 14 years ago:
Clinging onto summer – cycling to Powsin

This time 15 years ago:
Composition in blue and yellow

This time 16 years ago:
Z-9

This time 17 years ago:
My favourite aircraft

This time 18 years ago:
Утомлённые солнцем

Letters to an Imaginary Grandson (IX)

Getting into the Flow. So important. Whatever you are going to do, whatever you will eventually excel at, learning to get into the flow is a crucial art to master. What is “being in the flow”? It’s when you’re focusing so deeply on the task in hand that all external concerns evaporate; it’s when you are in the groove, it’s when you are at one with what you're doing, it’s when it absorbs you completely. You may be a musician or an accountant, an architect or motor mechanic, but everyone who has achieved any sort of mastery will be familiar with the notion of being in the flow.

Now, one may posit that being able to get into the flow is a gift, not bestowed on all. That it requires practice, concentration and self-discipline. True, but it is a small-steps process. It finds you, rather than requiring your effort. As a child, I could find myself in the flow while playing, particularly with Lego or assembling a plastic model. The outside world would just fade away. Reading too. Given the right book, the words, and my attention to them, would merge; page after page would fly by, my mother's call to dinner ignored.

A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step, and that step is the most difficult. That first step is latching on the flow. Especially when a task is not immediately as pleasurable as the alternative. But once there, once in the flow, the task seems to get on with itself. Once in that state, beware of one thing. Distractions. These can lead you off on a tangent, especially when the task calls for research (going to an external source to verify a fact, for example). There is the ever-present danger of falling down a rabbit hole, and finding yourself back in the flow... but a different flow, and heading somewhere other than towards your original goal.

Is finding the flow a neurological thing? Is it, for example, easier for someone on the autism spectrum to get into the groove (unkind observers may say 'rut') than for someone with ADHD? 

Or is it a metaphysical thing?

It is well known that musicians who achieve success do so through committing themselves to countless hours of practice. It is easy for a parent to see which child will go on to become a musician and which one wastes their money on music classes – the one that's obsessed with the instrument, obsessed with learning to master it, obsessed by music, will succeed. 

The earlier you notice yourself getting into the flow in a given area, the better. It may be sport, the arts, or academic study. It can be something that seems less useful – trainspotting or stamp collecting for example. But whatever it is, if you're likely to get into the flow, aim to be a producer rather than a mere consumer. Aim to become an authority, a noted researcher, an expert that people go to for answers.

If you can't find something that allows you to get into the flow, keep seeking. It could be basket-weaving or flower-arranging. It could be mediaeval history or astronomy. Passion unlocks the door to the flow.

The flow, once there, comes easily. It does not necessarily require you to maintain focus, the focus draws you in. Maintaining focus is needed on areas that are not your natural attunement. If you find your attention wavering, it’s likely you’re doing something you don’t like. Find the right subject, the right activity, and the flow will come. It’s natural.

This time last year:
To ease the soul

This time two years ago:
Retrocausality and the Goneself

This time three years ago:
Many Machcins

This time six years ago:
The Long Dark Half-Hour of the Consumerist Soul

This time seven years ago:

Early-September travel news

This time eight years ago:
Fields filling up with houses

This time 15 years ago:
Battle of Britain: Poland's contribution

This time 16 years ago:
Sewer under ul. Karczunkowska

Early-September sunset moods

It rained today, at last. Good to see the earth receiving plenty of longed-for moisture. No walk though during the day, lots of work to be getting on with. Yet the online weather forecast predicted some sunshine before sunset, so a walk to catch it was in order. And indeed, the sky began to clear from the west. The heavy blanket of cloud was pushed inexorably eastward, the sun dropping into the slot between the cloud's trailing edge and the horizon. Just what I wanted...

Below: sunset over Wola Pieczyska. The DK50 – the way west.

Below: ulica Działkowa, looking at the western horizon a few minutes after the sun had set. The cloud formed an interesting arc framing the afterglow.

Below: the arrival of the 19:41 at Chynów station. On time. Everything as it should be. The clouds have passed over towards the east, leaving a perfectly clear sky, and after sunset, that crushed-velvet dusk. Gratitude for being in the moment.

This time seven years ago:
Travel news
(Gosh! what an improvement when I look back!)

This time eight years ago:
Fields filling up with houses

This time 15 years ago:
Battle of Britain: Poland's contribution

This time 16 years ago:
Sewer under ul. Karczunkowska

Moral obligation and history

The spectacle of Putin, Xi and Kim Jong Un all chummy in Beijing fills me with revulsion and dread. 'Might is right' has triumphed. The boot stomping down on the human face.

My post-war generation grew up believing that the arc of history tends invariably upward – the 'Whig view of history', the notion that today is better than yesterday, and therefore tomorrow will be better than today. The inhumanity, the barbarism of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan, had both been crushed; steamrollered flat by the Allies. But then both were helped to rebuild and invited into the circle of decent nations; within 30 years of the war's end, West Germany and Japan had overtaken the US and the UK in living standards.

But the seeds of the resurgence of old-style might-is-right can be traced back to the original sin which was treating Stalin's Soviet Union as another democracy. The founding charter of the United Nations from 80 years ago mandated its member states, including the USSR, "to maintain international peace and security, uphold international law, achieve higher standards of living for their citizens, address economic, social, health, and related problems, and promote universal respect for, and observance of, human rights and fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language, or religion." 

If only those words carried some weight. Allowing the USSR in as a founding party, as well as one of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, was clearly a mistake; the original sin. 

As deeply flawed as the Western democracies have shown themselves to have been, at least they are not led by leaders who consider putting human beings to death on an industrial scale as policy. 

Saying to Putin "I want this war to end, so you get to keep what you've stolen; you will not be punished and we can get back to working together" is exactly what the Prisoners' Dilemma tells you not to do. This game-theory thought experiment, played out millions of times, clearly shows that if the other guy defects on you, you hit him and do so repeatedly until he relents. Only then, and instantly, you return to the strategy of cooperation. And do so until the next time he defects. To cooperate with an aggressor is to invite future aggression from him. It is that simple. Look at history.

In 416 BC, the Athenians invaded the island of Melos and demanded that its people surrender and pay tribute to Athens or be annihilation. The Melians refused, so the Athenians laid siege to their city. Melos surrendered; the Athenians then executed its men and enslaved its women and children. In the Melian Dialogue, Thucydides' dramatised negotiations between the Athenians and the Melians, the Athenians offer no moral justification for their invasion. Instead they tell the Melians that Athens wants Melos for itself and that the only thing Melians would gain by submitting was not being slaughtered. The Melian Dialogue is still taught as a case study in political realism; the world is brutal, states are selfish, and that the only rational approach is based on power and advantage. The quote "the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must" is taken as founding statement of political realism.

So another 'life-in-balance' slider can be between utopianism and realism. Is it utopian to want Putin's full-scale invasion of Ukraine to end with the full withdrawal of Russian forces behind Russia's 2014 borders, and to see Russia punished for the murder and destruction it has wreaked upon Ukraine? Is it realistic to expect Ukraine to give up territory and its ambitions to join NATO and the EU in exchange for a ceasefire? 

Utopians have unrealistic expectations. Politically, they are naive and foolish. (That's utopians of the left and the right, by the way; Brexit was built upon utopian expectations.) Realists, on the other hand, are too ready to accept grubby compromises, to accept corruption, injustice and barbarism.

In my mind, there is an optimal path; it is guided by the solution to the Prisoners' Dilemma: always get on with your fellow (or nation), until they do the dirty on you. Retaliate immediately. Fight back with ruthless determination, until they return to the path of righteousness. As soon as they cease their egregious behaviour – flip back to cooperation and continue cooperating (until their next defection). The problem will then be how to define 'defection', and selecting the appropriate level of counter-strike.

Trump is not clever, he is weak, a pathological narcissist with ADHD. He will fall. But will America be able to pick itself back up? Europe has to take up the slack; I'm delighted that Poland at least is pulling its weight in terms of defence spending. That is a moral obligation.

This time last year:
Sunset's Trip Revisited

This time two years ago:
The Unbearable Pleasance of Flashedback Familiarity

This time three years ago:
The imperceptible end of summer

This time four years ago:

Another new bus stop for ul. Karczunkowska

This time five years ago:
Energy, focus and state of mind

This time six years ago:

50 years on – Gunnersbury Grammar school reunion

This time eight years ago:
All things visible and invisible

This time 10 years ago:
Work starts on Warsaw-Radom rail modernisation

This time 11 years ago:
Won't be long 'til summertime is through

This time 13 years ago:
It was a good year for the apples

This time 15 years ago:
Early-September moan about the commuting