Despite Poland’s democratic transformation and membership in the European Union, antigypsyism remains embedded in both social attitudes and institutional practice. Attacks in towns such as Limanowa, Wrocław, and Gdańsk in the 2010s and more recently in Opoczno in 2021 show how hate crimes and intimidation persist well into the 21st century. Hate speech and online harassment are common, while many Roma families continue to experience high levels of poverty, unemployment, and restricted access to public services. Progress has been made through EU and national inclusion programmes, yet the gap between policy and lived reality remains stark.
Control, Exclusion, and Resistance
The historical relationship between the Polish state and the Roma has long oscillated between control and exclusion. During the Second World War, existing prejudices were weaponised under German occupation: Roma communities were rounded up, confined to ghettos, and deported to extermination camps such as Auschwitz-Birkenau, where the liquidation of the so-called Zigeunerlager on 2 August 1944 marked one of the war’s most tragic episodes. Executions in places such as Chełmno, and even the murder of Roma by elements of the Polish underground, revealed the extent to which Nazi racial ideology intersected with pre-existing bias.
In the decades that followed, Communist authorities replaced open persecution with coercive assimilation. From the early 1950s onward, directives from the Ministry of Internal Affairs enforced settlement campaigns that stripped Roma of mobility and cultural autonomy. Militia surveillance, “awareness” drives, and social engineering sought to eliminate distinct Roma identity under the banner of modernisation. Despite claims of equality, Roma culture was silenced and their communities remained under suspicion. Periodic unrestsuch as the riots in Konin and the pogrom in Oświęcim in 1981exposed how antigypsyism endured beneath the surface of socialist order.
Confronting the Past to Shape the Future
The fall of communism in 1989 brought new freedoms but also renewed hostility. The pogrom in Mława in 1991, followed by a wave of violent attacks through the 1990s and early 2000s, reflected how quickly social frustrations could turn against Roma minorities. These events, from Poznań to Białystok and Tarnów, revealed deep-seated prejudice that transcended political change. While Roma organisations emerged to advocate for rights, they often faced limited political support and societal indifference.
Today, the legacy of exclusion continues to shape Roma life in Poland. The younger generation increasingly engages in education and civic activism, working alongside NGOs and local governments to challenge discrimination and build visibility. Yet progress remains fragile, and antigypsyism continues to surface in public discourse and online spaces. The history of Roma people in Poland shows that prejudice has survived occupation, communism, and democracy alike. Confronting this continuity is essential to building a society that measures its maturity not only by legal frameworks but by its willingness to face injustice. Addressing antigypsyism is therefore both a moral obligation and a test of Polish democracy’s resilience.



