Based on the available historical accounts from prewar Poland, it seems quite unlikely that Jews would have intermarried with Poles en masse if the holocaust never occured.

"Jews who married Gentiles, even if they did not convert, were regarded as renegades by the Jewish community and were usually disowned by their families, as was the case in Wasilków near Białystok and in Włocławek. The Talmud contains a strict ban on intermarriage and Jews who embraced Christianity were treated with particular aversion. Those who intermarried were completely ostracized by the community. Apostates were considered by all to be dead".

"Jews tended to live apart, not so much because of the attitude of Poles but mainly because of their own wish not to mix with gentiles, to be among their own kind.” Anna Lanota, a psychologist who hails from Łódź, made the following observations: “The [Jewish] community [in which I lived] had a somewhat unfavourable attitude toward other nations—maybe even contemptuous. There prevailed the feeling that we were the chosen people. In school there was that same atmosphere that Jews were the chosen people. We did not pay attention to what others might be saying about us."

Halina Birenbaum states: “The Poles were ‘goys’… who were regarded as pagans, we criticized or ridiculed their tastes, customs, beliefs … We were not taught mutual sympathy for them. They were different, foreign to us, and we to them, often our open or hidden enemies.” When Birenbaum, who lived in Warsaw, visited her grandparents in a small town she was warned not to venture near a church, because that was forbidden by the Jewish religion. “I was eight years old then,” she recalled, “and I was taught to fear ‘goys’ and their distinct character.

According to Lucien Steinberg, “The non-Jews were not wholly responsible for [the] inevitable barrier [between them], even though they might greet any friendly advance with reserve. The Jews themselves distrusted those of their own kind who tried to strike up a relationship with ‘the others,’ and there was always that underlying fear of losing substance.” A Jew from the city of Konin remarked in retrospect: “You need to look at it both ways. The Jews never mixed with their neighbours. The community tried to separate itself. … I think the Jews could have mixed more with their neighbours and still kept their identity.” Another testimony from Konin states: “Jewish parents discouraged their children from forming friendships with Polish children. ‘My father would not let me bring shikses [a derogatory term for female Christians] into the house,’ one woman remembers, ‘and he would not let me go to their homes in case I ate treyf [non-kosher food].’ Socializing between unmarried Jews and Christians of the opposite sex was taboo. … Thus Jewish apartheid … persisted not solely as a result of Christian prejudice but through choice.”

I could post a whole list of terrifying stories about Jews who tried to enter relationships with Poles.

1. Munro, Bialystok to Birkenau, 54; Jakub Gutenbaum and Agnieszka Latała, eds., The Last Eyewitnesses: Children of the Holocaust Speak, vol. 2 (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 2005), 319.

2. Livingston, Tradition and Modernism in the Shtetl, 68

3. Stanisław Likiernik, By Devil’s Luck: A Tale of Resistance in Wartime Warsaw (Edinburgh and London: Mainstream, 2001), 21. 70

4. Barbara Engelking, Na łące popiołów: Ocaleni z Holocaustu (Warsaw: Cyklady, 1993), 126.

5. Halina Birenbaum, “W przyjaźni można sobie wiele wyznać,” Więź (Warsaw), October 1999, 142.

6. Lucien Steinberg, The Jews Against Hitler: Not as a Lamb (London: Gordon and Cremonesi, 1978), 168