This volume represents a comprehensive history of the Polish city of Łódź from the end of the nineteenth century to the post-communist transition. Łódź, often dubbed the “Polish Manchester”, is an exceptional story amongst Polish towns: it was created during the late but rapid industrialization of the Russian Empire and since then has developed very differently to Polish centres such as Warsaw, Cracow, or Gdańsk. At the same time, it has been a contested place, where nationalism, capitalism, and modernity have been at the centre of contention in both local and national discourses. The authors have made a compelling collective effort to tell the story of Łódź. They focus on four distinct periods of urban development: the decades before 1914, the interwar era, the post-war introduction of Soviet socialism (1945–1949), and the post-communist transition (1989–1994). Thus, they concentrate on times of rapid social and cultural upheaval while backgrounding the period of German occupation during the two world wars (1915–1918; 1939–1945). Methodologically, they use the city as a prism to analyse how urban modernity as well as the rise and the crisis of capitalist production were negotiated in the Polish context.
Łódź's growth started with the rise of the textile industry. Initially, it was more a production hub than a proper city. From the beginning, national minorities – Germans and Jews, but also Russians – were present in Łódź. Many of its large mills were owned by merchants not considered Polish. It faced problems similar to those of other fast-growing industrial cities: Manchester, for example, but one might also think of Chicago or, within the Russian Empire, Moscow. Industry expanded faster than urban infrastructure and housing could be built; a weak and overstretched state could not provide for its citizens. Rather, the city was initially left to develop on its own. Łódź was producing for a vast hinterland: the entire Russian Empire. The authors show how the industrial boom continued despite the political upheaval of 1905. Yet, the rapid growth was stopped by the German occupation and the independence of Poland, which disrupted the economic ties with Russia.
Ethnic strife and nationalism – already present under the old regime – became more visible as a democratic public emerged in the Polish republic. But there were antagonisms not merely between Jews, Germans, and Poles, but also between different visions for the city: national capitalism and municipal socialism competed. Both the Polish socialists and the right-wing Endecja enjoyed strong support in the city. Before the background of economic crisis, different visions of urbanity, capitalism, and Polish nationhood were discussed. The Polish nation state became a new actor and tried to use its limited resources to establish urban infrastructure such as sewers and to improve life for the inhabitants. In the end, however, the city never fully recovered from the loss of the Russian market.
During World War II, Łódź was one of the few Polish cities that suffered only minor damage. The city left physically intact, its population was persecuted under the Nazi occupation of “Litzmannstadt”, as the city was called. The Jewish population was first deported into a ghetto and then murdered in the Shoah while the Volksdeutsche, who had long been a part of the elite, were expelled in 1945. Thus, as a result of war and genocide, Łódź was Polonized. The new Soviet-backed government wanted to make it an example of modern urban planning in order to develop the town for the working class. Wild growth was to be replaced by rational planning that would improve all aspects of urban life. Representative building for the new state and its elite was projected. But Łódź had to compete for resources with Warsaw and Gdańsk, important Polish cities that had been destroyed during the war. Again, the Polish state lacked the means for investment. Still, the social make-up of the city changed considerably because parts of the Polish inteligencja moved into its undestroyed buildings. Łódź became home to a university, attracted students, and in 1948 its famous film school was started. Still, its mainly female workforce in the textile industry was never as privileged as Silesian miners or Baltic-coast shipbuilders had been under communist rule. They remained a second-class working class.
The end of state socialism hit Łódź hard. The industries that had supported the city for 150 years were no longer sustainable. Western hubs of industry such as Manchester or Chicago had experienced similar problems in the second half of the twentieth century. But the post-communist experience was peculiar: it meant that regaining freedom went hand in hand with unprecedented economic downturn. Many workers were laid off and lost their livelihood. Again, strikes and protests were organized, but to little avail. Many people started their own small business to pull through. Once again, the urban public discussed what the future might hold. Frustration with representative democracy resulted in low political mobilization. A post-industrial Łódź was envisioned by those who saw not only despair but also opportunity. Still, the economic decline led to the degradation of large parts of the population and a substantial social crisis. Only with Polish accession to the European Union were new large-scale developments possible.
Often relying on local newspapers, politicians, and activists as sources, the book places the history of Łódź into the larger context of East European modernity as an urban experience. Throughout Eastern Europe, between 1880 and 1960 peasants became city dwellers. This brought a rapid transformation in housing, production, culture, and politics. The example of Łódź serves to illustrate the bumpy road travelled by eastern cities, their development being interrupted by the collapse of empire, war, revolution, genocide, and dictatorship. Still, amazingly, cities like Łódź have begun to bounce back from some of the worst nightmares of the twentieth century. Thirty years after socialism they are – despite many problems – attractive places for business, academics, culture, and tourism. Yet, they are also haunted by problems familiar from the past: loss of population, a weak state, nationalist politics, and a divided urban public. From Cotton and Smoke takes readers on a fascinating journey through Polish urban history. It is recommended not merely for scholars and students of Poland and Eastern Europe, but also for those generally interested in urban studies and the discourse about modernity.
