Poland returns to 'normal'

Judy Dempsey

Warsaw

Between 1946 and 1980, two languages and two realities existed in Poland. The official language of the party, hedged in with double truths and hypocrisy, was given a monopoly; the other language, the language and voice of the Polish nation, could find few ways of articulating its feel- ings except through violent outbursts.

Solidarity and the extraordinary explosion of 1980-81 confirmed one important point which is still felt very strongly among all People outside the official structures today that each person knew his neighbour was thinking exactly the same things.

For a Westerner, this is nearly impossible to understand. Solidarity puzzled both the what authorities and foreign observers. what emerged during the last 18 months was the 'Polish reality' — a Polish language which expressed itself in terms of truth, equality, democracy, independent organisa- tions and independent thinking. Above all, it was a language open and accessible to all. One prominent journalist, now sacked, told Me last week: 'Maybe that was one of the Problems with Solidarity, that it was too ?pen.' The point was that Solidarity chose to work outside the official institutions in order to function and exist. Solidarity had argued that the official structures were neither compatible with nor acceptable to the 'other reality' in Poland.

But the officials can relax now. Mr Pawel

Chocholak, an adviser to Mr Ciosek, the trade union minister, told me: 'The name Solidarity doesn't matter. Anyway, we will accept independent trade unions but they must support the basic principles of the state The fact is, however, that the name of Solidarity still represents and sym- bolises the unity of the nation. This, along with the alliance of workers and intellec- tuals, frightened the authorities. It brought them face to face with an independent United voice.

Officials have already adopted a fresh in- terpretation since the imposition of martial la, w. 'Things are getting back to normal,' is the new cliche in Poland. 'Normalisation' Means, as would be expected under condi- tions of martial law, that telephones are tapped, people are watched, individuals are stopped in the streets, flats are searched, Parents are warned to keep their teenage children off the streets, and the cinemas have raided the archives for dull and uninspiring f I1Ths. One Solidarity activist explained: It's not so much fear that people feel, it is absolute and sheer hatred. For the first time society hates the present regime. Hatred is in their hearts and that, in the long term, is There to be a problem for the authorities. here is no trust; there can be no dialogue.'

Normalisation also means a purge of newspapers, radio, television, universities and schools. Poland is now taking on the characteristics of Czechoslovakia after 1968. The Association of Polish Jour- nalists, formerly headed by Stefan Bratkowski who believed passionately in reform and an independent press, has been dissolved. Mr Dariusz Ficus, the former secretary-general of the association, has not been sacked; nothing as crude as that. He is now editing a monthly for the blind invalids of cooperative workers. He is bitter, but as he says, calmly, 'We lived through 1956, 1968, 1970, 1976 and now 1980, except this time it's different. The unity of the nation is wrapped around Solidarity and cannot easi- ly be broken.' Other journalists are less for- tunate. Those in their early twenties, trying to start a professional career, must now either conform, sign loyalty pledges, undergo 'verification' or else go underground, remain unemployed and live in poverty. As for Solidarity members, they have one choice: to renounce their member- ship or lose their jobs. Many have left their jobs and live in virtual poverty.

One noticeable consequence of martial law has been the drop in living standards. While the authorities and Solidarity were in agreement that price reform was a necessary prerequisite to economic reform, the latter, for economic and political reasons, has not been forthcoming. Instead, people cannot buy meat, cheese, vodka, petrol, clothes, shoes — a wide range of essential com- modities — simply because many goods are not available and prices have gone up by 200-400 per cent. If you're lucky, you can still get your one bar of soap every two months on ration, but that depends on the market. Thus a new and humiliating phenomenon has entered the Polish con- sciousness: poverty. This is what it was like after the war, people tell me. Maybe that's what the authorities mean when they say that 'things are getting back to normal'.

Few Poles can take the `Kadarisation' of Poland seriously. Certainly a sharp drop in expectations and aspirations was a feature of Hungary's normalisation. But it took Hungary 12 years to introduce wide-ranging economic reforms. Poland may not be able to wait that long.

What, then, are the options for General Jaruzelski? Few people expect anything from him. The Polish youth, who have ex- perienced neither Stalinism nor the war, willingly discuss the future. One final year student from Warsaw university remarked to me: 'We have no hope. We travelled abroad, but now they have taken away our passports. We save, but we can buy nothing. We cannot have decent clothes or speak freely . . . the whole situation is hopeless. The society has closed in and we have chosen to opt out. We don't hear what they say any more . .

The underlying problem is one of com- munication and dialogue. The old dead language of the Fifties is back: the newspapers churn out redundant phrases and slogans, the official language reigns once more. There are few if any who accept this language and the party daily newspaper Trybuna Ludu is being recycled into lavatory paper.

Martial law has, however, changed the focus of the church, which is still recovering from the shock and has found itself in an almost impossible position. Traditionally the church has played the role of mediator between society and the authorities. But society is demanding much more from the church. It could be argued that for the first time in post-war Poland the church is dependent on society for its support. After all, Solidarity won for the church the right to have live radio broadcasts of mass on Sundays; and 'industrial' Solidarity achiev- ed the legal registration of rural Solidarity, whose two million members are staunch Catholics. As one priest, active in rural Solidarity, told me, 'We are still confused and stunned and trying to guide society . . . it's the youth we worry about . . . they might resort to violence . . . I don't know what will happen.'

Is there a Polish solution? Society is con- fused, and exhausted. The experience of the last 18 months has left an indelible mark on millions of people. People share the same thoughts and feelings — the unity of the na- tion which was manifested in Solidarity is still very much in evidence. The longer mar- tial law continues, the more the underground will flourish.

In Huta Warszawa, the large steel mills in Warsaw, Solidarity is still active. The big red star at the factory gates has been painted black several times. A guard now protects the star at night, but they say the star is unsteady and might easily fall down. Elsewhere, bulletins from the regions are being printed and sent to Gdan- sk and Warsaw. The union structures still survive, albeit in a haphazard fashion.

Many people, from all walks of life, openly admit that there are no prospects for a social contract or any form of consensus. General Jaruzelski can seek legitimacy through coercion, but regimes of this nature don't have to seek legitimacy. The greatest tragedy is that there is no hope of any trust or dialogue. The two languages the official and the unofficial — cannot find a common dictionary.