Q&A: Confronting Hate and Seeking Forgiveness in That Boy News from the School of Social Sciences

Q&A: Confronting Hate and Seeking Forgiveness in That Boy

Professor Michał Garapich, on what inspired That Boy, the risks involved, and what it reveals about extremism, reconciliation and the possibility of change

Date: 3 June 2025

In the powerful new documentary That Boy, a reformed Polish neo-Nazi meets a Roma man who experienced anti-Roma violence growing up. The film captures a rare and raw dialogue between a former perpetrator and a victim.

A few weeks on from its premiere, at the European Parliament in Brussels on 9 April, we spoke to Professor Michał Garapich to discover how the film came about.

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What inspired you to initiate the dialogue between a reformed neo-Nazi and a Roma attack victim in That Boy?

It’s a complex story, but in short, it came out of our research into the Polish-British transnational far-right. We were exploring different far-right milieus. Many of the people my team – Dr Anna Jochymek, Dr Rafał Soborski, and I – interviewed had been involved in football or music-based skinhead subcultures in Poland during the 1990s. That world often involved a lot of violence, much of it directed at Roma people.

Through my other research interests, I also know many Polish Roma who lived through that period and experienced that violence. So I found myself hearing both sides: from victims and from perpetrators.

Eventually, I met Mirek, a former skinhead. As part of his church work, he visits prisons to speak with inmates. One day, he told me he’d be willing to meet someone he had – even indirectly – hurt, and ask for forgiveness.

That made me think of Toby Górniak, a Roma man from Poland who I met in Plymouth in 2017. We’d been talking for a while about making a film, but many early attempts fell through. Filming former extremists brings complex ethical, political and personal challenges.

Then I thought: why not connect Mirek and Toby – and film it?

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It's rare to see individuals like Toby and Mirek come together. Were they open to the discussion, and how did you ensure they both felt it was a safe space?

It might seem rare, but life is often more surprising than we assume. I met Mirek in a Polish-speaking Pentecostal church in Cambridge. He was already talking to Roma families there, so the idea wasn’t entirely new to him.

I asked if he’d be willing to talk outside a religious framework – with someone who didn’t share the same ideas about conversion or redemption. He said yes.

Toby understood the significance of it straight away. For him, this wasn’t just symbolic – it was personal. He wanted to confront what it meant to be seen as a victim and to challenge that label directly. Speaking with someone who had once hated Roma people offered a way to do that.

They were both willing. My role was to be a gentle – I hope – intermediary and to document the exchange.

In terms of safety, we agreed from the start that both would have final say over what was shown. Nothing would be included without their consent. But emotional safety is another matter. This wasn’t a light conversation – they knew it would be hard from the outset.

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Academics often like to control variables. Was it nerve-wracking to make a film where you couldn’t predict how it would unfold?

Yes, definitely. I’d never made a film before, and this one was unscripted, spontaneous.

That said, I’m an anthropologist – my work often involves dealing with the unplanned and unexpected. I had a general sense of how the conversation might go, but no guarantees.

Toby and his film crew, New Vandal Media, had a loose plan and led the production side. If anyone had control over the set-up, it was them. Even so, editing the film became a collaborative process.

The really nerve-wracking moment came when the film was selected to premiere at Roma Week at the European Parliament. Making a film is one thing. Showing it to an audience emotionally connected to its themes is another entirely.

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Netflix’s Adolescence shows a 13-year-old radicalised online. How does That Boy contrast with or complement fictional portrayals of youth radicalisation?

It’s a good question. On the surface, That Boy seems very different: two adult men, talking about the 1990s in Poland – a very different time and place.

But dig into their conversation and you’ll see familiar themes: broken families, isolation, a need to belong, violence, masculinity. It’s all there.

They’re honest. They open up. And that shows the value of dialogue. At the heart of it all is the vulnerability of youth.

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Do you think political leaders and educators fully understand how young people are being drawn into extremism?

I don’t think political leaders have much understanding at all. The recent riots are a case in point.

Educators, on the other hand, are more in touch. There are strong programmes and committed individuals working on this. Britain has long dealt with extremism and terrorism, and there’s some institutional memory.

But technology moves quickly. Extremism adapts fast, and policymakers often struggle to keep up. The internet makes violent content easily accessible. That makes it dangerously easy for young people to get pulled in.

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How did policymakers and experts respond to the film at the European Parliament?

The screening was part of Roma Week – organised by the European Roma Grassroots Organisations Network. It’s an annual gathering of Roma activists from across Europe.

This year was particularly poignant – it marked 80 years since the end of the Roma Holocaust. Roma communities have fought for decades for proper recognition of their persecution under the Nazis.

So showing a conversation between a Roma man and a former neo-Nazi was confronting for many in the room.

The reactions were powerful. Some people cried. Others asked hard, sceptical questions. There was also genuine praise.

Thanks to Toby, I think people saw the value of it. We collected over 30 detailed pieces of feedback. The response was overwhelmingly positive.

For Roma viewers especially, it was moving to see someone openly acknowledge their past violence and ask for forgiveness.

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What role do you think That Boy can play in raising awareness and fostering dialogue?

Many people assume this kind of conversation could never happen. The film challenges that idea. It shows these moments do happen – and they matter.

This wasn’t staged. These were real people with raw emotions. And it shows that academics can influence the world beyond universities.

We live in diverse, multicultural cities. Everyday encounters across ethnic or religious lines are one of our best defences against hate and extremism. Mirek and Toby could have this conversation partly because they were used to that diversity – they live in England.

There’s also a bigger message here: people can change. Even those who once held hateful, violent views.

I hope this film makes some people stop and think. About what they believe. And about the harm those beliefs may be causing – to others and to themselves.

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Looking at the journeys of Toby and Mirek, what do they teach us about de-radicalisation and personal transformation?

Every story of change is different. But for both of them, parenthood was a turning point.

They’re both fathers. And being a parent “with a past” is hard. You worry your child might make the same mistakes.

That fear can be a powerful motivator. When people begin to care about the next generation, that’s when change becomes possible.

But it needs work. We have to keep talking about the past – and confronting it. Hate doesn’t disappear on its own. It lingers.

Mirek and Toby are trying to lay some of those demons to rest. That’s a good thing. As a society, we should do the same.

Academics, artists, educators and policymakers all have a role in that process. We help people tell their stories – and make sense of them.