Author Archives: Brian Porter-Szucs

Did the Polish Bishops Just Criticize Polish Nationalism?

On Thursday, the Polish bishops released a document entitled “The Christian Form of Patriotism” (Chrześcijański kształt patriotizmu). The text, which I’ve partially translated below, has a number of interesting passages which are already being interpreted as a condemnation of the nationalist excesses of groups affiliated with or supportive of the current government. In fact, that is explicitly what the document does, by drawing a sharp distinction between “patriotism” (good) and “nationalism” (bad).

The bishops condemn what they call “national egoism,” a term which has a long tradition in Poland linked to Roman Dmowski and the early-20^th century National Democratic movement (big heroes of the Polish right). On a few occasions over the past year, a neo-fascist group called the National-Radical Camp (Obóz Narodowo-Radykalny) has met in churches and had masses said in their honor (see here and here for news about the most recent episode, which Church leaders have already apologized for). Today the ONR had a large march in Warsaw (well, a few hundred people—for them that’s large), and their schedule notably did not include a procession to a local church.

A few more aspects of this newest Church document might also raise some eyebrows. The bishops criticize the exploitation of history for political purposes, the staging of historical re-enactments that glorify war, the use of polarizing rhetoric, the propagation of forms of patriotism that are closed to ideological diversity, and most emphatically the expression of any disrespect for people of other faiths or national background. They even cited Islam in this context, albeit only in passing. In fact, the text has a reference to the need to show “hospitality” to people from other nations, though that’s the closest the bishops came to repeating Pope Francis’ message of support for accepting refugees.

The problem with this document, as with many of the bishops’ writings, is that it is pitched at such a high level of abstraction that readers of different ideological orientations will be able to interpret it to their liking. The text included several references to the use of “unjustified historical analogies,” which supporters of the current government will take to refer to the opposition’s charges that Poland is turning into an authoritarian state similar to those imposed upon this country in the past. Calls for toning down divisive rhetoric will be understood by supporters of the government as a demand that the opposition stop complaining about the ways in which the regime is undermining the constitution and violating fundamental norms of democracy and the rule of law. Indeed, these interpretations are probably appropriate, because it is well known that a large majority of the bishops are supporters of Jarosław Kaczyński’s “Law and Justice” Party (Prawo i Sprawiedliwość, or PiS).

So the PiS leadership can rest easy: there’s nothing here that will cause them any short-term headaches. They’ll be able to spin the bishops’ letter for their purposes, and since the drafting committee included many supporters of PiS, this isn’t really even spin. There is a clear warning here to Mr. Kaczyński to stop flirting with the furthest reaches of the far right, which could eventually make it harder to him to follow his long-standing policy of not allowing anyone to outflank him on the right. He wants to ensure that the small parties trying to replicate the success of Jobbik (an undeniably neo-fascist party in Hungary) will not succeed, and in that context the bishops have just set a line that they don’t want him to cross. But in reality, it isn’t going to be hard for almost everyone on the right in Poland to read this document, nod their heads in agreement, and say “clearly I’m a patriot, and only those bad people with whom I would never cooperate are nationalists.”

Having said all this, I still think this text might turn out to be important. So far the Church as an institution – and for that matter nearly all priests – have shown unwavering support for PiS. There have been absolutely no signs that any significant members of the clergy, much less the episcopate, are willing to speak out in support of the democratic opposition. There have been some rumors that a few bishops have lobbied unsuccessfully for Kaczyński to soften his anti-immigrant rhetoric, but other bishops have declared openly their opposition to accepting any refugees. The contrast between the Church in Poland and the Papacy could not be more obvious. As the PiS government has neutralized the judiciary, centralized power by abolishing all separation of powers, turned the state media into a vulgar propaganda mouthpiece, and demonized the opposition as traitors and conspirators who care only for undermining Poland’s genuine national interest – throughout all of this, the Church has said absolutely nothing. Against that dismal backdrop, this week’s statement from the episcopate is a slight shift, a baby-step to place a little bit of daylight between the Church and the PiS State.

Anyone expecting the Church to play a role in fighting today’s authoritarianism similar to the one they had during the communist era will be disappointed. That’s just not going to happen. We are not going to see priests (at least, no more than a few renegades) marching alongside the liberals and feminists who have been challenging the PiS government so far.

But this statement by the episcopate suggests that it is possible that the Church leadership would prefer not to be seen as an appendage of the nationalist right. In PiS’s Poland, the Catholic Church is one of the few institutions that Kaczyński (probably) cannot neutralize, and maybe—just maybe—this might serve as a weak constraint that could keep the very worst elements of the radical right from rising to even more power.

That’s not much of a hope. But these days, it might be all we have.

________

Here are some excerpts of the text from the Episcopate. The complete 4,398 word text can be found here)

The revitalization of patriotic attitudes and feelings of national consciousness, which we have observed in Poland over the past few years, is a very positive phenomenon. Love of the fatherland, affection for the culture and traditions of one’s homeland – these things do not just relate to the past, but are tightly bound to our present capacity for sacrifice and solidarity in the attainment of the common good. They therefore influence the form of our future in a real way.

At the same time, we can see in our country the emergence of attitudes that are contrary to patriotism. Their common ground is egoism. This can be individual egoism, apathy about the fate of the national community, exclusive concern for the wellbeing of the individual and those closest to him. This sort of inattention to the treasure that every one of us receives together with our common language, the history and culture of our homeland, connected to an apathy about the fate of one’s countrymen – this is a non-Christian attitude. Also contrary to patriotism is national egoism, nationalism, the cultivation of a feeling of superiority, being closed off to other national communities as well as the human community. Patriotism, after all, must always be an open attitude. As our great countryman Henryk Sienkiewicz one aptly put it, “the slogan of every patriot should be: “through the fatherland to humanity.”

….

From this same Christian perspective, we want to note today that patriotism, as a form of solidarity and love of one’s neighbor, is not an ideological abstraction, but a moral call to give witness to good here and now, in a concrete place, under concrete conditions, among concrete people. Since it is not an ideology, patriotism does not impose a rigid ideological cultural form, and even less a political form, but in diverse ways implants itself and brings to fruition in the lives of people and diverse communities, which want to further, in solidarity, the common good.

Patriotism differs therefore from the ideology of nationalism, which imposes onto living, everyday relations with concrete people, in the family, in school, at work, or at home, rigid diagnoses and political programs often characterized by an aversion to foreigners. They strive to force cultural, regional, and political diversity into a uniform and simplified ideological schema.

….

We want to underline once again the necessity in our fatherland of a patriotism, well known from our history, that is open to cooperation in solidarity with other nations, based on respect for other cultures and languages. Patriotism without force or contempt. Patriotism attuned to the suffering and injustices that affect other people and other nations.

A patriotism for all citizens. Therefore we emphasize and remind everyone that all Polish citizens contribute to the life and development of our fatherland. The history and identity of our fatherland is particularly closely tied to the Latin tradition of the Catholic Church. Nonetheless, alongside the Catholic majority, our common fatherland has been well served, and continues to be served, by Poles who are Orthodox, Protestant, as well as adherents of Judaism, Islam, and other faiths, as well as those who do not find themselves in any religious tradition. And even though the criminal Holocaust carried out by the German Nazis, as well as other tragic events during the II World War and its aftermath, ensured that many of these communities are no longer among us, their contribution will always be inscribed onto our culture, and their descendants continue to enrich our public life.

Therefore contemporary Polish patriotism, remembering the contribution that Catholicism and Polish tradition has made, should always embody respect and a feeling of community with all those citizens, regardless of their faith or heritage, for whom Polishness and patriotism are a moral and cultural choice.

….

At a time of deep political conflict, such as divides our fatherland today, it is also a patriotic duty to work for social unity by remembering the truth about the dignity of every person, by relaxing excessive political emotions, by identifying and expanding the field of possible (and essential for Poland) cooperation across divides, as well as the defense of public life from unnecessary politicization. And the first step that one should take in patriotic service is to reflect on the language with which we describe our fatherland, our compatriots, and ourselves. Everywhere, therefore, in private conversations, in official speeches, in debates, in the traditional media and in social media, we are obligated by the commandment to love our neighbor. Therefore the measure of Christian and patriotic sensitivity becomes today the expression of one’s opinions and convictions with respect for one’s compatriots, including those who think differently, in a spirit of kindness and responsibility, without oversimplification and unjust comparisons.

….

In light of Christian respect for human dignity and also a Christian political vision, it is necessary to recognize as unacceptable and dangerous the exploitation and instrumentalization of historical memory for ongoing struggles and political rivalries. Wherever conflicts (quite natural in politics) become saturated with hasty political analogies and when historical arguments replace economic, legal, or social reasoning, then it sometimes becomes impossible to reach political compromises that are honorable and essential to a democratic society.

Smolensk (again!)

I’m so tired of writing about this. When a government spends so much time repeating a lie, the rest of us are forced to spend equal time rebutting them. And since the available attention span for news from Poland is so limited in the English speaking world, vital stores get buried because we have to wrestle with the same old canards. Now, on the seventh anniversary of this event, we are at it again.

On April 10, 2010, a tragic airplane crash led to the deaths of 96 Polish dignitaries in Smolensk, Russia. There should be nothing political about that statement – it is a simple fact. This is not one of those issues on which intelligent and honest people can disagree, on which different experts have arrived at different opinions. The belief that the crash was an assassination attempt has been spread by the propaganda apparatus of the current Polish regime, but that should be irrelevant to anyone interested in what actually happened. This story belongs in the ignominious hall of shame alongside claims that Hitler’s 1939 invasion of Poland was provoked by an attack by Polish troops on a radio station in Gliwice; that US ships were attacked by the North Vietnamese in the Gulf of Tonkin in 1964; that Sandam Hussein was compiling weapons of mass destruction and cooperating with Al Qaida in 2001. There is no legitimate debate or doubt here, but because politicians from the governing PiS party in Poland repeat the lies, the international press feels the need to print headlines saying “Poland Says Explosion Behind 2010 Plane Crash in Western Russia” (Bloomberg), “Polish Commission Says President’s Jet Likely Exploded Before 2010 Crash In Russia” (Radio Free Europe) “Polish crash is linked to ‘explosion’” (The Times), “Polands 2010 Smolensk Crash Caused by Explosion” (Daily Beast), “Polish leader’s jet probably exploded just before 2010 crash” (Reuters). All this based on the newest recapitulation of the lie, which came at a major press conference yesterday, on the 7^th anniversary of the crash.

There is a mountain of evidence that the crash was the result of a combination of mistakes by both the pilots and the air traffic controllers, made under unfavorable weather conditions. There is absolutely no legitimate evidence to the contrary, despite what you might find if you wallow in the conspiracy swamps of the internet. Yesterday the government released their most recent “theory” of how it happened: having failed to find any evidence for their wild ideals, they came up with the desperate claim that a thermobaric bomb was the cause of the crash. These are devises which consist almost entirely of explosive material, as opposed (for example) to the mix of 25% fuel and 75% oxidizer in gunpowder. As a result, thermobaric bombs leave few if any traces. It’s perfect: now the lack of any evidence of an explosive device can be presented as proof that there was in fact such a bomb on board.

Experts in aviation disasters have ruled conclusively that the crash was an accident; those who would like to read the complete report of the crash investigation commission can download it here. I prefer to focus on an even simpler argument: there was no conceivable reason for the enemies of Lech Kaczyński to carry out such a risky operation. Let’s assume that Donald Tusk, Vladimir Putin, and perhaps even Angela Merkel wanted Lech Kaczyński to be removed from the presidency of Poland. That desire would have been reasonable: Kaczyński had been seriously undermining (then Prime Minister) Tusk’s foreign policy, the President’s support for Ukraine and Georgia was irritating Putin, and his nationalistic euroskepticism was a problem for Merkel. But let’s return to the early months of 2010: at that time Kaczyński’s favorability rating was at a record low: 23% deemed his performance as president to be “rather good” and a miniscule 3% “very good.” Presidential elections were scheduled for later in 2010, and there seemed little hope that Kaczyński would be re-elected. Meanwhile, PiS’s overall support remained stuck far below PO’s: throughout the period from 2007-2010, the two parties were consistently separated by more than 10%. In other words, in April of 2010 all the indications were that Kaczyński was on his way out, and that the movement he represented was collapsing alongside him. It is likely that the collapse of the Kaczyński brothers after an electoral defeat would have been decisive. The Smolensk crash turned that around by creating a martyr for the movement, and a foundational legend on which to base the party’s reconstruction. I do not doubt for a moment that Jarosław Kaczyński was devastated personally by his twin brother’s death, but as a political matter, he and his fellow members of PiS may well be the only ones who benefited from the catastrophe.

Civil Disobedience

The phrase “civil disobedience” is often bandied about by political activists, but it’s a risky tactic if the goals aren’t clear. Is the purpose to solidify the commitment and solidarity of the protesters? That’s pretty easy to accomplish: being arrested, particularly as part of a group, can be a transformative experience (to say the least). But what if the goal is to actually shift public attitudes? That’s a lot harder, because it requires the sort of act that disinterested observes will understand and respect, so that if the police do intervene, most people end up sympathizing with those being arrested.

Yesterday I received a lesson in how to do this, and I saw how very, very hard it is.

The context was the 7^th anniversary of the airplane crash that killed 96 Polish dignitaries, including then-president Lech Kaczyński, the twin brother of Poland’s current de facto ruler, Jarosław Kaczyński. The current regime in Poland propagates the lie that the crash was an assassination organized by the enemies of the nation both inside Poland and abroad, a legend that Kaczyński uses to justify his assault on the norms of constitutional rule and liberal democracy. (For further background on the mythology of this alleged “assassination,” click here.) His goal, as he has said repeatedly, is to purge Poland of the traitors and enemies, so that national security, strength, and above all unity can be restored.

The anniversary ceremony was unusual even by the standards of Law and Justice (Prawo i Sprawiedliwość, or PiS). Terrified that the event might be unsettled by some sign of protest, they blocked off nearly the entire historical center of town and only allowed those with invitations to enter.

Thousands of PiS supporters had arrived from all over the country to participate in the commemorative mass, and I overheard bitter complaints from them wherever I went yesterday afternoon, as they realized that they wouldn’t be able to get close to their heroes. The pre-screened audience got to watch speeches by various Polish dignitaries in front of the Presidential Palace, and people following the official propaganda channels on TV saw a respectful crowd that responded with unified approval as different speakers repeated the conviction that Lech Kaczyński had been assassinated by Poland’s enemies. The small crowd then marched towards Castle Square, where a select few were admitted into St. John’s national cathedral. The mass was broadcast on a big screen TV in front of the Royal Castle, giving the impression that those who couldn’t fit in the cathedral nonetheless got to participate in the event. Nothing could be further from the truth; the police were carefully screening who was allowed to go where.

About a kilometer away on Piłsudski Square, about a thousand anti-government activists had gathered with the goal of sending a simple message: the Smoleńsk disaster should be remembered as a national tragedy, and not co-opted for the political purposes of one party. After all, among the 96 casualties were representatives of every political perspective. The majority were from PiS, but on board were representatives from all the leading parties, both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox clergy, and above all a large number of people with no political function (including, of course, the flight crew and the attendants). Since they were on their way to commemorate the anniversary of the WWII Katyń massacre, representatives of the families killed in that horrible event made up a significant share of the delegation. But the diversity of the victims (just like every other kind of diversity) is being erased by the current government. Yesterday, when a new monument to those who died in the crash was unveiled at the Council of Ministers building, only those affiliated with PiS were named.

The crowd at Piłsudski Square was organized by a group called “Obywatele RP” (Citizens of the Polish Republic). This is not affiliated with the better known and much larger Committee for the Defense of Democracy [KOD], though the two groups share the same basic goals. The difference is that ORP engages in peaceful civil disobedience with the goal of exposing the regime’s brutality. Paweł Kasprzak, the group’s informal leader, was an anti-communist activist before 1989, and now he’s brushing off his old techniques.

He is rather pessimistic; as he said in his speech yesterday, the defenders of democracy in Poland today are in the minority, and even if PiS is removed from power the social forces behind PiS will still be there. I don’t entirely share his view on this point, but it’s undeniable that there are millions of people in Poland who have lost faith in liberal democracy. And it is also probably true that big marches won’t accomplish much, particularly since the recent ones haven’t really been big enough to create any kind of political challenge.

Obywatele RP are emphatically non-violent, and even their approach to civil disobedience is remarkably polite and respectful. The goal yesterday was to quietly join the crowds watching the Smolensk anniversary ceremony, holding up signs that said “Mourning Unites Us, Political Demonstrations Divide Us,” or “We Remember All The Victims of the Catastrophe” or “I Continue to Believe in Empathy, Not Revenge.”

They were ready to chant “Constitution, Liberty, Democracy” if the moment called for it, but they also practiced going silent on cue. One of the most important things, Kasprzak said, was not to interfere with anyone’s prayers, so during the religious parts of the ceremony they were to be silent and respectful, and only get noisy if the PiS supporters did so first. Kasprzak said that PiS was trying to divide the country into “true Poles” and “traitors,” so the goal of ORP must be to display unity and compassion—even with their opponents.

The police were out in force, surrounding the ORP protest and taking pictures of everyone who was present (though plenty of activists were taking pictures of the police in turn).

Kasprzak told his supporters to treat the police with respect, because they were just following orders. He emphasized, however, that those orders were unconstitutional, and that the police had a duty to disobey such orders. Specifically, he was referring to a new law stating that no demonstrations could be held within half a kilometer of any other event expressing an opposing point of view. The law included mechanisms to ensure that pro-government events would almost always be given first dibs on important times and places, thus relegating opposition events to the margins. The consensus opinion by Polish legal experts was that this law was unconstitutional, but now that the government has seized control of the high court, it was implemented without any problems. Yesterday was the first big test of that law.

Throughout what followed the ORP leaders remained in constant dialogue with the police, who for their part allowed the demonstration to march right up to the edge of Castle Square. At that point, however, they were met by a double-cordon of policemen, blocking every possible entrance to the entire historical district of the city. Waiting to the sides were even more police, who were quickly redeployed to whichever point of access the ORP demonstrators tried to used. The protestors had been instructed to speak to the police with a respectful tone of voice, and try to give them a pamphlet that explained how the new law was a violation of the constitutional right of free assembly. At one point Kasprzak said to the police commander, “do you sincerely think that we are a threat to anyone, or that we are going to disrupt the service?” It was clear from everything they had done so far that they were going to avoid any such disruption. When any sort of prayer was in progress, the ORP activists held up signs reading “silence!,” and to that point there had been no chanting or singing. To Kasprzak’s exasperated question, the police officer replied with startling and revealing honesty that he wasn’t worried about what the ORP people would do, but what the PiS supporters might do to them.

The stand-off lasted for a long time, as Kasprzak and his supports searched for ways to reach Castle Square, while hundreds of police kept the group corralled. Finally Kasprzak told his people to disperse, because nothing more was going to be accomplished that night. The media was there to record the whole episode, so his goals had been (mostly) achieved. As Kasprzak put it, a public event to commemorate a shared national tragedy was being held in a public space, but the government was preventing a peaceful, respectful group of citizens from taking part. I think Kasprzak was hoping that either PiS supporters would attack them, or that the police would try to break up the ORP demonstration by force, but the highly professional tactics employed by the police ensured that it never got to that point.

As I was following one group of demonstrators away from the event, a small confrontation did break out. The police were still there in force, so the two sides were separated by a double-cordon, but volleys of chants were exchanged.

The difference between the two sides was eloquent. The ORP protesters chanted about Democracy, Liberty, and the Constitution, while those on the other side shouted “Traitors” and “Jarosław”. One side had lofty values, the other had invective and devotion to their leader. I don’t want to idealize Obywatele RP, nor do I want to demonize the rank-and-file supporters of PiS. But the contrast really was striking.

Earlier, Kasprzak was telling his supporters about the need to respect everyone, and to maintain dignity and calm even if things got confrontational. Democracy, he said, entailed courageous civil action aimed at persuading fellow citizens, and it was essential not to make the already deep divides even deeper. As he was speaking, two PiS supporters who had been standing next to me stormed off, and one said in disgust, “fucking lefties.” The other replied “yeah—you can see the sort of people we have to deal with.” At that moment, I was proud to be standing with the fucking lefties.

Poland and the EU

Across Europe last Saturday there were ceremonies marking the 60^th anniversary of the Treaty of Rome, which launched the process that eventually grew into today’s European Union. Poland was no exception, though here the events were emphatically not supported by the current government. In this context, the anniversary celebrations became de facto opposition demonstrations, which is a sign of how much Poland has changed over the past few years.

The EU has long been popular here—enormously popular, in fact. The referendum on the accession treaty held in 2003 registered 77.6% approval (with 59% turnout—high by Polish standards). Starting in 2006, the Pew Research center has been running a comparative survey on attitudes towards the EU, and Polish support has declined since then by 11 points: from 83% to 72%. Still, Poland has been at the top of this chart every single year. A recent survey commissioned by Gazeta Wyborcza showed that if a Brexit-style vote were held here, the “remain” side would win easily, but with “only” 61% of the vote. The Poles are still the undefeated champions of Euroenthusiasm, though even here Brussels is losing some of its luster.

Another sign of where things stand was on display during those 60^th anniversary celebrations/protests. One the one hand, there were gatherings all over the country, and in virtually every town square at noon people gathered to sing the European anthem. In Warsaw, this was combined with a march along the city’s emblematic “Royal Way,” leading to Castle Square and the Old Town. Every opposition political party, several of the country’s leading media outlets, and a who’s-who list of activists and cultural figures joined together in sponsoring the march. At first glance it seemed quite impressive.

I spent most of the event watching from an excellent vantage point, atop the bell tower of St. Ann’s Church. This allowed me to capture the entirety of the crowd, which looked up and waved for a “group portrait” taken by the professional cameraman whom I was conveniently standing next to.

Speaking from the stage, the editor of Gazeta Wyborcza, Jarosław Kurski, said that the ten thousand people gathered here were a much better representation of Poland than the current foreign minister. Maybe so, but 10,000 strikes me as a disappointingly small number for such a well-advertised event. This was half the size of the event for Women’s Day on March 8, and less than a tenth the size of the record-setting pro-choice demonstration held on this same site last October.

This reveals, I think, a key aspect of the current political dynamic in Poland. This country has a reputation for big protests, marches, and strikes, and even today the level of public mobilization here is higher than anywhere else in the region. But in keeping with the pattern seen even back in the 1970s and 1980s, that activism really only rises to the fore when people are faced with very concrete challenges to their personal well-being. For the most part, Kaczyński has been smart enough not to push up against those sorts of issues. His strategy has been to focus on dismantling or undermining all the institutions and norms that sustain liberal democracy: the independent judiciary, the public media, the constraints of parliamentary rules, NGO watchdog groups, etc. Acts of opposition to the government’s assertion of control in all these areas have simply been ignored or dismissed as the ravings of “elites” who don’t understand the “real Poland.” The result of this strategy has been that opposition to the state carries very little real danger (there’s little opportunity for anyone here to become a martyr for the cause of democracy), but also very little chance of accomplishing anything. If you want to ignore politics and just get on with your life, it’s been possible to do so. Kaczyński demands active support from those who want to serve in the state sector, but for everyone else he just encourages demobilization and apathy.

This is where the anti-liberal authoritarianism of the 21^st century has learned a great deal from the models from the 20^th century. Nazism and Stalinism demanded a lot more, but the post-Stalinist communism of the 1960s and 1970s allowed people to carry out their private lives without all that much interference. That’s the system that’s being rebuilt now. It’s one in which most people, most of the time, can live their lives without worrying about politics. The government would love to
have your support, but if they can’t get it, they only ask that you go about your business and leave politics to them. This is a system that promotes disengagement rather than active obedience or enthusiasm.

Of course, those in targeted minorities (whether ideological, national, sexual, religious, or whatever) will feel the power of the authoritarian state. Sooner or later even those in the majority will experience the consequences of anti-liberal democracy. By then, however, the institutions and structures that they could have used to protect themselves will be gone. That’s when we will see the really big crowds once again, but they won’t be as polite and celebratory as they were last Saturday. Nor, I fear, will the authorities be as passive.

Poland, Land of Diversity

If I could abolish just one cliché, it would be this one: “Polish society is nearly homogeneous.”

Just pick up any article about Poland from any source on any topic, and you are likely to find this claim. For example, click here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here….OK, you get the point.

Sometimes you will even see the claim that Poland and the other countries of East-Central Europe have no “tradition of diversity.” That’s so obviously incorrect that it hardly merits rebuttal. Prior to the mass murders and ethnic cleansings of the mid-20^th century, there were few places on earth with more heterogeneity than here. But that’s not want I want to write about today.

Nor do I want to remind you about the Kashubians, the Łemkos, the Tatars, the Silesians, the Górals, or the remaining communities of Lithuanians, Belarussians, or Ukrainians that one can find along Poland’s eastern border. The small but vibrant Polish Jewish community reminds us that the Holocaust did not entirely wipe out that legacy, but that’s not my topic for today, either. I’m currently living next door to Warsaw’s Holy Trinity Lutheran Church—but I’m not going to talk about that, or the local Vietnamese community, or the growing expat groups that have settled in Poland’s larger cities.

All those categories are indeed small, and they don’t detract from the fact that 98% of the residents of this country (according to the most recent census) claim Polish as their native language, and 88% claim Roman Catholicism as their religion. A mere 1.8% of the population was born in another country. The Polish census does not include a category that would match the American concept of “race,” but one would have to search very hard to find anyone who does not have the pale skin color typical of northern Europe.

So yeah—Poland is a homogeneous place. As long as the only markers of diversity you care about are language, religion, and skin color.

Our understanding of diversity has been hobbled by the tendency to take the fault-lines of difference from one time or place, and superimpose them to different times and places. In the 1930s, the boundary lines in Poland were drawn around religion and language, and since those lines can’t be found any more, we call the country homogeneous. In America we have to grapple with the enduring legacy of racial classifications and oppression, so if we turn our attention to Poland, we see a stark uniformity.

But diversity and homogeneity are themselves ideological constructions, and it is vital that we take a critical eye to the claim that Poland is a land without significant internal cultural fissures, prejudices, or stereotypes.

When skin-color, religion, or language cannot serve as markers of difference, that doesn’t mean that difference itself disappears. Instead, the vectors of cultural diversity migrate to other categories, ones that we may not be primed to notice. For example, even though nearly everyone is Roman Catholic in Poland, the actual patterns of devotional practices and theological beliefs are almost as divergent here as they are in the denominational grab-bag of the United States. Rates of attendance at religious service are about the same, and the role of “faith” in public life is comparable. In survey questions regarding matters of religious doctrine, Poles show an enormous range of beliefs—an issue that the clergy here has always complained about. According to a recent survey, only 18% believe that the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church provide an adequate guide to moral behavior, and 57% reject part or all of the Church’s moral teachings. Only 14% think that Catholicism should provide the foundation of the “values and norms taught in the public schools,” and only another 11% think that a more general Christianity should serve this purpose. A more detailed survey conducted in 2015 revealed that 56% believe in hell, but a mere 4% (!!) believe that only Christians can be “saved” (with another 8% reserving salvation for all “religious people.”) A startling 30% believe in reincarnation! In the US, those diverse beliefs are expressed by switching from one religion to another. Here in Poland, all these various convictions remain bundled under a notional Catholicism. That singular label matters, of course, but it shouldn’t lead us to assume that Poland is a land of actual religious uniformity.

Even more culturally and socially important is a vector of difference that is hard for outsiders to see. For centuries, nearly all the labor in northeastern Europe was performed by bonded serfs. “Pańszczyzna” (mandatory work for a master) was ended here at about the same time slavery was abolished in the United States, and both systems left an intractable cultural legacy. The descendants of the nobility and the peasantry are all called “Poles,” and they can’t be distinguished by any biological identifiers, but that doesn’t mean that the divide is irrelevant. The nobility constituted around 10% of the population in pre-partition Poland, but they monopolized property ownership and completely dominated culture and politics. The Stalinists tried to change this by adopting a program of hiring and university admission akin to American “affirmative action,” but that didn’t change the overall picture much. Only briefly in the early 1950s did the scions of the nobility constituted fewer than half of the university students. The history of Poland as it is conventionally taught is really the history of the nobility, with the peasantry erased to an even greater degree than African-Americans are erased from US history. Today the vast majority of Poles live in towns and cities, and the traditional peasantry is long gone, but the cultural gap remains very, very deeply entrenched. To be sure, the lack of phenotype differences makes the lines more permeable than racial divisions in the United States, but that doesn’t mean that the lines don’t exist.

A picture of homogeneity requires that we ignore certain differences and prioritize others. It leads us to imagine that a highly-educated Warsaw businessman from a “good family” who goes to church on Christmas and Easter is part of the same national community as a devout smallholder from Podlasie with a primary education.  Meanwhile, we are taught to see a nearly unscalable wall between that peasant and his Belorussian-speaking, Eastern Orthodox neighbor. I’m not dismissing the latter divide, but it is absurd to imagine that the absence of religious, linguistic, or ethnic barriers has led to homogeneity. At most, it has only made the heterogeneity a little bit harder to see.

It could be worse

Without in any way downplaying the current crisis of liberal democracy, I just got a reminder that things could be a lot worse. I came across the following 1986 document from the campus affiliate of the Niezależne Zrzeszenie Studentów (Independent Student Society) at the Szkoła Główna Planowania i Statystyki (Main School for Planning and Statistics). The text is quite mundane: announcements that a new, elected student council is being formed, that some new anti-communist stamps are for sale, that a special mass for NZS is scheduled, etc.  But note the format: paper so thin that it is translucent, blurry printing, and a size smaller than a ballpoint pen. This is what you can produce when you are operating an illegal organization with few resources, and when discovery of your activities might get you expelled.

I’ve made comparisons between today’s increasingly authoritarian Polish government and the communist Polish People’s Republic, and I continue to believe that we can learn a lot by setting the two alongside each other.  But this 1986 document was a useful reality-check for me. Poland has gone much further down the antiliberal path than the US has, but even Poland isn’t close to the oppressiveness of the 1980s, which itself wasn’t remotely as bad as the Stalinist era, which was a vast improvement over the horror of Nazi rule. One might be tempted to evoke a slippery slope metaphor when talking about today’s government, and that’s not entirely unjustified.  But political activism is like putting on snow-tires in order to get some traction on that slope; we need to keep in mind that rolling downhill is not inevitable. Moreover, no matter how much we might wish to stand at the summit, let’s not confuse the hillside with the valley.

Historical perspective teaches us to see potential dangers even when they are only just starting to appear. That’s why so many historians are worried and angry nowadays.  But historical perspective also offers us a useful psychological survival mechanism, a way to avoid the despair that I’ve seen in so many friends and colleagues recently. Less than five years after the above leaflet was produced, the Polish People’s Republic ceased to exist, NZS was legalized, and SGPiS became the Szkoła Główna Handlowa (which they advertise in English as the “Warsaw School of Economics”).  Today, NZS no longer needs to use such surreptitiously produced and distributed leaflets; instead, they communicate about their activities here.