INTERVIEW: Yurij Luhovy on the making of a film about Bereza Kartuzka

by Fran Ponomarenko
Special to The Ukrainian Weekly

MONTREAL - The story of the infamous concentration camp, Bereza Kartuzka (1934-1939), where thousands of Ukrainian patriots were incarcerated without due process and in direct violation of the Polish Constitution is little known. Yurij Luhovy, a member of the Academy of Canadian Cinema and Television, is now close to completing a documentary film about this camp, a film based on authentic photographs, documents, archival footage, and eyewitness testimonials from survivors.

Part one of a trilogy dealing with Ukraine under three occupations - Polish, Communist and Nazi - this film will highlight the political situation in which Western Ukrainians found themselves under Polish rule between the first and second world wars. Award-winning Montreal filmmaker, Mr. Luhovy is best known for his work on "Harvest of Despair." He has, however, more recently made another documentary film titled "Freedom Had a Price" about the internment operations in Canada, which led to the detention of over 5,000 Ukrainians in 24 camps across Canada, and led to the designation of a further 88,000 civilians (the majority of whom also were Ukrainian) as "enemy aliens."

In addition to his documentary work, Mr. Luhovy has also worked in the mainstream industry on such films as "Khanehsatake: 250 Years of Resistance," "Show Girls," "Rocks at Whiskey Trench" and "Race for the Bomb."

Q: You are presently close to completing a film about the Bereza Kartuzka concentration camp. What brought you to this subject?

A: Actually, it was my father. He was imprisoned in Bereza. When I was a young boy I often heard him speaking with his friends, who were also incarcerated there, about the abuses they endured in the camp. They used to sit around our dining room table in Montreal and recount their stories for hours. They talked about their lives in western Ukraine in the 1930s. They all knew each other in Ukraine as students, or as former prisoners in Bereza Kartuzka, or from the DP [displaced persons] camps after World War II. In the 1950s some of them found each other again in Montreal.

So, their stories were always in the back of my mind and overtime, I realized we didn't know our history. There were many other immigrants living in Canada and the United States that had spent time in Bereza. What also stayed with me is that such a docile, gentle man like my father could be beaten. His experiences, and those of others like him, were first-hand accounts of an untold story never yet filmed.

Q: What led to the incarceration of your father?

A: It was the political climate at that time. You have to place his story in the context of the tension between Poland and Ukraine in the late 1920s and 1930s. Western Ukraine was under Polish occupation and the Polish government progressively used severe measures to suppress and pacify Ukraine. By 1935 Poland became a completely authoritarian state and attacks against Ukrainian life again increased. My father's arrest was one of many.

We were never certain of the reason. None was ever given. Ukrainians were arrested by the Polish police "bez prava zakhystu," without the right of a defense. This was illegal, of course, even under Polish law, but it was done anyway. My father had just finished law school in Ternopil and had just married my mother. They decided to settle in Brody; the year was 1938. He was supposed to work for two years under a lawyer for no pay. However, to survive they opened a fruit store. Nearby, a Polish man also had one, and he saw his business dwindling. My mother always thought that the reason for the denunciation of my father was this person's jealousy. One day my mother came to the store to bring my father some lunch but he was not there. The neighbors said that my father was arrested and taken to the Bereza Kartuzka concentration camp. This happened in June or July of 1939. That day about 17 other people from Brody alone were arrested and imprisoned.

Q: What kind of people were usually picked up by the Polish police?

A: All persons active in Ukrainian national affairs were under constant surveillance, searched and often arrested. The Polish police especially looked for people that were in the Ukrainian underground, in the OUN [Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists], which, in retaliation, had organized a struggle against the brutality of the Polish occupation. They also targeted intellectuals. But criminals of various nationalities also were imprisoned there. This was done on purpose, to create dissension and conflict. There were also some Poles in Bereza who opposed Pilsudski's authoritarian rule. The Polish police also arrested Communists of Polish, Jewish and Belarusian origin. All these people were thrown together and that created lots of problems in the camp amongst the prisoners. There were even fights.

Q: This concentration camp dates back to the early 1930s, to the time when eastern Ukrainians were in the aftermath of the Famine-Genocide.

A: The 20th century wasn't very kind to Ukraine. Yes, eastern Ukraine was suffering brutal repression under Stalin, and western Ukraine was suffering under Polish control. Bereza Kartuzka began to operate from 1934. In the film, the historians who were interviewed put everything into a historical context. We see that problems began on June 28, 1919, when the Supreme Council of the Paris Peace Conference, just after World War I, allowed Poland to occupy all of Eastern Galicia (or western Ukraine). Poland never adhered to the points of the Treaty of Versailles.

A clear violation of Ukrainian rights was made in July 31, 1924, which excluded the Ukrainian language from use in governmental and in self-governing agencies. In addition, Poland embarked on an intensive process of colonizing Ukrainian territories with Poles from ethnic Poland. In the next 20 years, about 200,000 Poles were moved into Ukrainian villages and about 100,000 into cities of western Ukraine. The Polish regime also began a complete destruction of Ukrainian schools. For example, Ukrainian schools in Galicia dropped from 2,420 in 1911 to 352 in 1937. Polish schools on Ukrainian territories greatly increased. Ukrainian Catholics also were pressured to accept the Latin rite, to become Roman Catholic, which actually meant renouncing their Ukrainian nationality.

Then, in June 1934, the Polish Minister of Internal Affairs, Bronislaw Pieracki, was assassinated in Warsaw by Ukrainians in retaliation for his role in the brutal "pacification" of Ukraine. Three days later Bereza Kartuzka was opened. This means that the camp must have been planned much earlier because everything was in place.

The "pacification" of Ukraine was a reign of terror. People were beaten mercilessly, books were burned, Ukrainian institutions were closed, censorship was enforced. In the Ukrainian newspapers in Canada during the 1930s, you can read many accounts of what occurred. It was natural for Canadian Ukrainians to follow what was happening in their homeland, to their families and friends. Also, when you go through newspapers and archives of the 1930's, you see that the international press was aware of what was happening. The Manchester Guardian, for example, often reported about the terror being inflicted on Ukrainians. And photos depicting this did get out to the West. The West knew what was happening in Western Ukraine but did little.

Q: Who took these photographs?

A: It was local people from different villages who took these pictures secretly. They wanted to inform the League of Nations about the conditions that Ukrainians lived in under Poland in order to persuade the League to intervene. The Polish government, claiming to be democratic, was somewhat sensitive when the West learned about the abuse of minority rights in Poland. Can you imagine? We were living on our own land and were considered a minority!

Q: What purpose was the concentration camp supposed to serve in the eyes of the Polish government?

A: Ukrainians were placed in Bereza to be "re-educated," that is, to learn not to oppose policies of Polonization and not to resist Polish rule. It was a way of terrorizing Ukrainians and trying to get them to stop attaining an independent homeland. Most of them were there for three months, but some for a year and a half. Some died in the camp. The camp commander was Col. Yanush Kostek-Biernacki and his subordinate was B. Grefner, who was later replaced by I. Kamalia.

I might add that in a declaration of September 13, 1934, Poland denounced the treaty on the protection of national minorities at the League of Nations.

Q: You said earlier that various ethnic groups were incarcerated. Which group predominated in the camp?

A: Well, that depends on the year. Towards 1939 the majority were Ukrainians. In 1934 the population of the camp was about 250 people, but by September 1939 there were between 5,000 and 8,000 people, the majority of whom were Ukrainians. Just imagine the conditions, too. They used to sleep about 15 to a room when the camp first opened in 1934 but towards the end it was between 60 and 70 men to a room. Some even slept outside under the elements.

Q: Were you able to learn what the prisoners ate?

A: That also depended on the year. Towards the end, just as the second world war was beginning, the inmates were given buckwheat kasha with sand mixed into it. This was so that sand would lodge in their teeth and cause them pain. They were also given soup, or rather slop, of some sort.

One witness told me that the female inmates were so hungry they would throw themselves into the large food cauldron to scrub out whatever might still be stuck at the bottom. Only their backsides and feet would be left hanging out and visible. And then they would be beaten with sticks and fists.

Q: How did you begin filming?

A: Well, at first I needed to find out if I could actually do a film on this subject. I needed witnesses. Fortunately, here in Montreal I had two people whom I could interview: Jaroslaw Pryszlak, who was imprisoned in 1935, and Adolf Hladylowycz in 1939. Their memories were excellent and their stories unbelievable.

It was crucial to get more survivors of the camp. I found many young people whose fathers were in Bereza. But that's not the same, nor as powerful. So, I started to ask around. In the U.S. I found Demian Korduba but, unfortunately, after interviewing him I decided I couldn't use him in the film. He was elderly and his speech was too difficult to understand. He was half-paralyzed when I met him. It was sad because he, too, had suffered there. But he did give me the names of two other people that I could talk to. Just recently Mr. Korduba passed away and will never see the film completed.

In the film I have five witnesses, and all give compelling accounts. In Belarus I found three more. They were children at the time and saw prisoners getting beaten up. I also met survivors in Florida, among them Bohdan Deychakiwsky. He was excellent, but was not well enough to be filmed.

Fortunately, I started this project when I did. It would have been such a shame not to have recorded their stories. Once I filmed the witnesses, I knew the film could be made, but it was essential to visit the site and go through the archives in Warsaw and Lviv. Arrangements were made and I went to the former Bereza Kartuzka prison last summer.

Q: What was that like? How much of the camp is left standing today?

A: It was very emotional for me to walk where my father once did. I thought of him and all the other prisoners. There were originally two main blocks. But the prisoner's block is still there. However, the police block is almost in ruins. Whole sections of it, the roof and floor have collapsed. It was risky going inside the building because at any moment anything could come down. But I went inside, and at first I thought that was where the prisoners were. But, after seeing the book on Bereza by Wolodymyr Makar, I rechecked the layout of the camp and realized that I had filmed in the wrong building. So, I went back from Miensk to film again.

At the site, they are planning to establish a museum about the Bereza concentration camp. You have to remember that Bereza Kartuzka is now part of Belarusian territory. Today, most of the prisoners' block has been converted to a children's activity center.

Q: What kind of arrangements did you need to make in order to film there?

A: I had to obtain special permission from the Ministry of External Affairs of Belarus. I arranged everything here in Montreal and in Ottawa. Needless to say, once I arrived in Belorus nothing was ready, even though I had faxed them that I was coming and even though all my papers were in order. Fortunately, a Belarus official in Miensk went out of his way to obtain the necessary minister's signature on a Friday at three in the afternoon. Without this, I couldn't film.

That afternoon, I also rented a car and then drove about four hours to Bereza Kartuzka with historian Dr. Roman Wysotsky from Poland. He also had never visited Bereza, although he was familiar with it. We enjoyed doing research together, and we both became united by trying to imagine what the former prisoners of Bereza must have gone through. I was very fortunate that Dr. Wysotsky was able to accompany and help me.

Q: What was the most frightening or the most dangerous moment you experienced?

A: The very worst part was when we were leaving Belarus and were at the Polish border in Berestia. The Belarus guard almost confiscated all my cassettes, regardless of my official press credentials. "I'll decide your fate in the next hour," he said. I was worried for the footage I had with me and for all the planning and effort that was put into this. There was a journalist who had disappeared in the area just the week before. It was very stressful, not knowing what was going to happen next. Eventually, someone higher-up asked me more questions and looked over all my documents again and then let us go.

Q: How much of the film do you have completed at this point?

A: Basically, I am finishing the editing and verifying details. I have a few inserts to shoot, and then the music and the sound effects have to be worked on. You know, I'm doing this film in my spare time, between work on other films from which I earn my living. So, I anticipate that probably sometime in March of this year the film will be ready for screening.

The biggest problem is purchasing the rights to some film archives. This is very expensive, it's $50 for each second plus lab fees.

Q: How is this film being financed?

A: This is one of the most difficult aspects. As you know, making a documentary is very expensive. As with my film "Freedom Had A Price," I began this film on Bereza Kartuzka, financing everything myself and hoping that eventually the project would get some further support. Because witnesses were elderly, passing away, and their stories disappearing with them, I knew this project could not wait any longer. I had to begin filming. No one had yet done a film on this subject, it's another first.

Eventually, several institutions, including the Ukrainian Canadian Foundation of Taras Shevchenko and some private donations, helped offset some costs. But this is far from the cost of the film. I still have hopes the project will get additional donations. Many people, whether in Canada, the U.S. or in Ukraine, have been very supportive of the project, and especially those that were in Bereza and their children. Once again, the story was almost forgotten, silenced forever.

It is difficult to get mainstream financing. So, either we Ukrainians are prepared to find ways to make these projects, or we lose the opportunity to record our history. And how can we not capture these stories?

Q: Could you tell us how your father finally got out of the Bereza Kartuzka concentration camp?

A: Ironically, it was because of the beginning of World War II and another occupation of Ukraine. In September 1939 the Germans attacked Poland. The Nazis and the Red Army met in Brest-Litovsk, or Berestia as it is called in Ukrainian. Berestia is now in Belarus, but it is ethnically Ukrainian territory. When the Poles in Bereza saw that the Germans were advancing, all the police guards fled the camp at night.

On September 18, 1939, the local people opened up the gates and released the prisoners. Believe it or not, that was my father's birthday. It was the best gift he could have ever received. He then began the two-week walk home to Brody, with the other prisoners. He walked without any shoes, with only rags around his bare feet. The moment he arrived home, he collapsed. He had been so weakened by the near starvation conditions in the prison. He was utterly exhausted. Occasionally people would give him a lift on a cart and give him some food. Unfortunately, my father never really wanted to recount his experiences to me. I wanted to know all the details of daily life in the camp, but he wouldn't talk. He just refused. He was one of 250 prisoners who were forced to dig their own graves because they were slated to be shot by the Polish guards due to the German advance. Then, at the last moment, somehow the executions didn't occur. Call it Divine Providence. Maybe it was the German planes in the sky. I don't know.

"Did they hurt you?" I once asked my dad when I was young. "No, they just tickled me," he replied.

* * *

Anyone wishing to support the making of the Bereza Kartuzka documentary, may send donations to: M M Luhovy Inc., 2330 Beaconsfield, Montreal, Quebec, H4A 2G8. Survivors may contact the filmmaker by calling (514) 481-5871 or e-mailing [email protected].

Copyright © The Ukrainian Weekly, February 3, 2002, No. 5, Vol. LXX

| Home Page |