Remembering Solidarity: Poland’s Identity of Resistance

By Matthew Piasecki

For nearly 230 years, Poland has struggled to be a nation. Ever since the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was dissolved in 1795 in the third and final partition of Poland, the Polish identity has been defined by a history of struggle and resistance. Whether it was the suppression of Polish culture under Tsarist Russia, the brief existence of Piłsudski’s Second Republic, the oppression under Nazi rule during the General Government period, modern Poland has based a large part of its identity off a need to resist a larger foreign threat. In its struggles against oppressive threats, the Polish identity of resistance culminated in its shedding off its imposed communist government through dockworker’s union movement of Solidarity of the 1980s. Through the power of mass protest, social activism, workers’ strikes, and other non-violent methods, the Polish people cried out against the weakened communist government and managed to have the first semi-free elections since the birth of the post war republic. In the 21^st century, Poland finds itself in control its own destiny, unburdened by foreign oppression, and now part of the larger European community. However, the spirit of Polish resistance continues to this day, yet its fight looks inwards towards the divides of its own people, and no longer unites Poles under a common banner.

For Poland and the rest of the world, Solidarity became a powerful symbol of resistance against oppressive systems and regimes. Its logo can still be found everywhere from graffiti on the walls of buildings, satirical renditions on magazines, to merchandise such as lighters, t-shirts, and bottle openers. Solidarity has burned itself onto the minds of modern Poles. However, the system that “dismantled communism” and freed Poland is not a memory of the recent past, but is still active to this day, not to fight against the government, but rather protest for it. In the recent divisive rule of Poland’s PiS party, the Solidarity movement has been protesting supposedly “Marxist” ideas such as the LGBTQ+ movement and pushing for the “traditionalist” ideals of PiS. As someone who was fascinated by and admired the actions of brave Poles protesting for their rights in the 80s, I find the dichotomy – and hostility – between the values of the still existent Solidarity movement and the European Solidarity Centre (ESC), the museum built by EU funding in the former Gdansk shipyard, quite disturbing. The fact these two institutions, opposed in precepts, can claim to be the heir of such an important historical cause is evidence of the rise of a dangerous post-truth society based upon warped historical memory, rather than fact.

In most senses, the original spirit of Solidarity has continued through the ESC and its retelling of the story through its museum. Their story of Solidarity starts off as an independent dockyard worker’s union protesting for better wages and protection from lay-offs. These workers would proceed to strike and write up a list of simple demands, and never intended originally to end the communist regime. The story picks up as more and more people rally to their cause, finding “solidarity” with the dockyard workers and seeing their own struggle for rights in theirs. Suddenly, the whole of Poland started to mobilize around these dockworkers and the union became a symbol of resistance. During the summer of 1980 and up until the end of 1981, more than a fourth of the population joined Solidarity giving rise to one of the largest grassroots movements of the 20th century. Despite the union’s outlaw with the declaration of Martial Law in December 1981, the Solidarity movement continued to be a force for change, ultimately leading to nationwide protests in defiance of the martial law and would be the major contributing factor in toppling the communist regime in 1989.

After the fall of its communist government, Poland would quickly turn around its economy and join NATO in 1999, and the EU in 2004. Now a part of “Western Europe” Poland would soon become a major player in both the EU and NATO, recognised as a bastion of freedom and democracy for the West’s eastern border. In the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Poland’s role as a liberal western democracy is more essential than ever, especially to stand against Russia with its extreme conservative nationalism and imperialism. Despite still being liberal democracy in contrast to its Eastern neighbours in Belarus and Russia, Poland has struggled with its post-communist identity. With the rise of the Law and Justice Party (Also known as PiS in the Polish abbreviation) Poland in recent years has become a breeding ground for ultranationalists, due to the party’s push for “traditional values” and a Poland “for Poles”. The PiS party, while remaining staunchly anti-Kremlin, eerily shares many of the same cultural goals that Putin has enacted in his own country to root out the plague of western influence. Much of this has been done by alluding to the past, propping up the Catholic Church which played a crucial part in aiding Solidarity during the martial law, as a central part of Polish identity, while also using the church to promote their extreme conservative ideology.

In modern Poland, Solidarity has achieved a near mythological place in its history as a national symbol of protest under communism. Unfortunately, what once was an inspiring story of people coming together for a common cause has been turned into a battle over memory. Instead of overthrowing communism, Poland finds herself in a two fronted battle against both the East and the West. From the East, Poland resists Russia and Belarus. Ultranationalist and imperialist, they have tried to spread their boarders into Ukraine and ultimately want to border Poland again, recreating the old divide in Europe during the Cold War. To counter Russian imperialism, Poland has been one of the leading European contributors to Ukraine’s war effort, and with the recent election in the United States, may become a more leading contributor alongside the United Kingdom and Germany. However, Poland is not only just aiding in fighting an actual war, but it is also in the midst of a cultural one. PiS built its foundations on being against liberalism in Poland. When the party came in power in 2015, it created harsh anti-LGBTQ polices, banned abortion, and installed difficult immigration procedures for migrants and refugees  from non-European counties. They have switched the narrative of the Solidarity to prop up their regime. For example, PiS has called those who would bring about liberal changes “communists”. Amongst all the back and forth of this discussion, it all leads to the inevitable question of the memory of

Solidarity in modern Europe, and the world. What should Solidarity’s legacy be? Should it be remembered as the quintessential anti-communist protest that toppled a regime, or should it be remembered as a small grassroots protest of a dockworkers’ union striving for a better life with more rights and freedoms? In an age of post-truth where emotions rule over history, where leaders utilise hate and fear mongering to keep people unquestioning and ignorant, will Solidarity still be a symbol of hope?

References

1. Higgins, Andrew. “Poles Tussle Over an Icon of Their Past, With an Eye on the Future.” New York Times, July 28, 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/28/world/europe/poland-solidarity-lech-walesa.html
2. Unwin, Richard. “Poland’s right-wing government accused of hijacking prize-winning museum.” The Art Newspaper, March 21, 2019, https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2019/03/21/polands-right-wing-go