Abstract
Jerzy Giedroyc—the founder and editor of the journal Kultura—has played an important symbolic role in Polish public debates, especially as an architect of post-communist Poland’s policy toward its Eastern neighbors. At the same time, scholars and experts differ substantially in their assessments as to both the shape and influence of “Giedroyc’s line.” This article argues that in order to solve this puzzle, Giedroyc should be seen as an “intelligentsia totem”—an instrument for the reproduction of Polish intelligentsia hegemony, and a source of legitimization for which various factions within the elite compete.
Taking into account this distinctive role allows for a new assessment of the influence of Giedroyc’s line on Poland’s eastern policy. By integrating the totemic interpretation with an analysis of the changing shape of the Polish field of power and changing interpretations of what Giedroyc’s line entailed, I argue that only some postulates of Giedroyc were implemented after 1989. Despite this, because of Giedroyc’s legitimizing function as Kultura’s editor, his role as an “architect” of the eastern policy was seldom questioned. Only when the reconfiguration of the Polish field of power brought an end to consensus in the foreign policy realm did new diverging interpretations of Giedroyc’s line emerge, legitimizing competing visions for Polish foreign policy. This article delivers a more nuanced view of the role Giedroyc played in post-communist Poland, thus explaining his criticism toward its foreign policy. It also sheds light on the legitimization mechanisms at work within the Polish elite.
Introduction
Jerzy Giedroyc—the founder and editor of the influential émigré journal Kultura—is without a doubt one of the main authorities of the Polish elite, probably standing among figures as revered as Marshal Józef Piłsudski or Pope John Paul II. Particularly after the fall of communism, public declarations about “having been brought up on Kultura” became a ritual. Giedroyc was visited in Paris by the highest-ranking Polish politicians, including presidents and ministers. Perhaps the most striking example of how broadly was Giedroyc’s authority recognized in post-communist Poland is a letter sent to Kultura from the former communist leader General Wojciech Jaruzelski, where he praised Giedroyc’s services to Poland and regretted that he could not follow the journal more closely. 1
The legacy of Giedroyc and Kultura is perhaps most often mentioned in relation to Poland’s eastern policy after 1989, which is often seen as being based on “Giedroyc’s line,” “Kultura’s line,” or alternatively, with recognition of the role played by the most important of Kultura’s writers Juliusz Mieroszewski 2 —“Giedroyc-Mieroszewski’s line.” 3 This influence of Giedroyc and Kultura is commonly acknowledged by scholars. For example, Timothy Snyder argues that the eastern policy “reflected a new Polish grand strategy” prepared by Jerzy Giedroyc and Juliusz Mieroszewski. 4 For his part, Ilya Prizel claims that the “works of intellectuals such as Mieroszewski . . . laid a solid foundation upon which Poland could build a post-communist structure” and “when communism finally collapsed Poland, . . . thus had a well-defined paradigm in place, one that has generally been competently executed by Foreign Affairs Minister Krzysztof Skubiszewski.” 5 Tellingly, when the Polish elite was celebrating then president Aleksander Kwasniewski’s role in the so-called Orange Revolution in Ukraine—commonly seen as one of the most important accomplishments in the eastern policy realm—Gazeta Wyborcza published one of the seminal articles by Mieroszewski, outlining a strategy for Poland concerning relations with its Eastern neighbors. 6
At the same time, other prominent scholars present different assessments of the influence of Giedroyc’s line on Poland’s foreign policy. For example, Sławomir Dębski argues that with the break-up of the Soviet Union “it soon became anachronistic.” 7 Others cast doubts as to whether “Kultura’s line” influenced Poland’s eastern policy after 1989 at all. 8 Moreover, Giedroyc, who witnessed 11 years of post-communist Poland, was himself highly skeptical about the shape of foreign policy after the transformation, 9 as well as about his real influence on the situation in his homeland. 10
In this article, I attempt to explain these diverging assessments regarding the influence of Giedroyc’s line on post-communist Poland’s foreign policy, especially until the so-called reset of its policy with Russia, conducted by the Civic Platform government of Donald Tusk. Inspired by Tomasz Smoczyński’s and Tomasz Zarycki’s reading of Émile Durkheim’s concept of totemism, I argue that in order to understand this puzzle, it is necessary to grasp the extraordinary role Giedroyc has played for Polish elites, which I interpret as an intelligentsia totem. In line with Durkheim’s understanding of totems, as symbolic representations of society to its members, serving the function of creating social cohesion and a group identity, 11 I argue that the figure of Giedroyc has strengthened the hegemony of the intelligentsia and served as a source of its legitimization. At the same time, he was used by different factions within the elite in their struggles to legitimize certain political actions and stances. In the first part of the article I explain Giedroyc’s ascent to a totemic status by the fact that he fitted into and supported the long march of the intelligentsia to power, which started after 1968 and ended with partially free elections of June 1989.
In the second part, keeping in mind Giedroyc’s totemic status, I critically evaluate the extent to which Kultura’s line has been reflected in post-communist Poland’s foreign policy. For this reason the dominant interpretations of Kultura’s line are compared against the changing shape of the Polish field of power 12 after 1989. The latter was followed by the evolution of foreign policy stances of the dominant camps on the Polish political scene.
As to the extent of Giedroyc’s influence on foreign policy, I argue that the democratic opposition, which took power in 1989, adopted only some postulates that could be seen as representing Kultura’s vision of the role of Poland in Central and Eastern Europe. Moreover, after the 1989 transformation, these postulates were fitted into the strategic goals of the state’s foreign policy (which were often summarized as a “return to Europe”), whose priorities were in stark contrast with those formulated by Giedroyc (which could be summarized as the “pivotal actor between the West and East”). At the same time, the fact that some important elements of his program were indeed adopted, as well as his special role as a source of legitimization, hampered open repudiation of Giedroyc’s line. Later on, the reconfiguration of the Polish field of power brought both an end to this foreign policy consensus and the emergence of competing interpretations of Kultura’s line as a part of the struggles over the (de)legitimization of foreign policy.
Overall, this article delivers a more nuanced and critical interpretation of the role that Jerzy Giedroyc and Kultura have played for post-communist Poland’s elites, thus explaining his criticism directed toward post-communist Poland’s foreign policy. More broadly, it also sheds light on mechanisms of legitimization of the authoritative figures among the Polish intelligentsia elites.
Part I: Giedroyc’s Role as a Totemic Figure in the Polish Intelligentsia’s March to Power
Interpretations of the extraordinary position that Jerzy Giedroyc occupies among the contemporary authorities of the Polish elite are best understood when viewed in the context of one of the most important characteristics of Polish society—that is, the hegemony of the intelligentsia. The process of the emergence of the Polish intelligentsia—which consisted mainly of an impoverished gentry—as an influential social group occurred between the second half of the nineteenth century and the end of the First World War, and culminated in the establishment of the Second Polish Republic as the “intelligentsia republic.” 13
Although during the initial phase of communism in Poland (especially during Stalinism when the state apparatus’s strength was at its peak), the influence of the intelligentsia was diminished, its values and way of thinking continued to attract newly advanced members of the elite. Thus, the symbolic hegemony of intelligentsia, as instituted in 1918, remained mostly intact. At the turn of the 1950s and 1960s in particular, intelligentsia groups began to regain significant autonomy from formal institutions and after 1968 one could observe a broader revival of the intelligentsia ethos. 14 The end of communism only reinforced the intelligentsia’s central position—as during the late communist period, its circles almost entirely aligned with the anti-communist opposition and supported the Solidarity movement. 15
An important aspect of the hegemony of intelligentsia, in particular in the context of the reproduction of social structures and legitimization of group identities, is a usage of totemic figures. Rafał Smoczyński and Tomasz Zarycki have argued that the Polish intelligentsia uses totems—in particular aristocratic circles—to legitimize the continuity of its historical leadership (including by serving as a “link” with the First and the Second Polish Republics) as well as its “Europeanness.” 16 Building on their arguments, I would propose that the totemic role has also been assigned to a number of great representatives of the intelligentsia, among them to Jerzy Giedroyc.
Jerzy Giedroyc’s biography may serve as a model of a prominent intelligentsia member’s life trajectory. As I will show, throughout his career Giedroyc and Kultura served several important roles—as patrons for the group of émigré intellectuals, on the one side, and as a “hole in the censorship wall” and supporter for the homeland intelligentsia, on the other. These roles of Giedroyc and Kultura allow me to interpret them in terms of “intelligentsia totems.”
Giedroyc was born in 1906 into a family of impoverished nobles. As with many other members of the intelligentsia, starting with his father, Giedroyc’s family moved to an urban area, where his father acquired a formal education and worked as a professional. 17 Nevertheless, the aristocratic background was not entirely forgotten—among postwar homeland intellectuals, he was often referred to half-jokingly as “the Prince.” In the Second Polish Republic, Giedroyc had already achieved considerable success in his professional career. Despite the fact that he did not hold any major political office, Giedroyc, as an editor of prestigious journals and aide to a government minister, formed the Second Polish Republic’s elite, 18 which Czesław Miłosz characterized as the “bureaucratic intelligentsia.” 19
Giedroyc’s achievements and personal networks built in the Second Polish Republic played an important role in the process of “totemization.” In particular, it allowed future generations of the intelligentsia to treat Giedroyc and the journal he published, Kultura, as a “link” with the interwar period. Giedroyc and Kultura’s role can be exemplified in the words of Adam Michnik: In short, it is largely through Kultura that the Polish intelligentsia has been exposed to a certain continuity of political thought and a nonconforming model of national culture, and independent standard against which to judge our values and attitudes.
20
Even more important though, was his post-war activity, including his role as a “custodian” of the national and European culture that was forbidden in communist Poland, and as a prominent supporter from abroad of the Polish opposition movement. During World War II, Giedroyc served in various state and military structures, including in the propaganda and cultural section of the Polish Army under General Władysław Anders. Like many other Poles serving in the Polish Armed Forces in the West, Giedroyc decided not to return to communist-ruled Poland, and in 1946 was tasked by the London-based Government of the Republic of Poland in exile to create a publishing house, “Instytut Literacki” (Literary Institute), in Rome. Relatively quickly, Giedroyc began to act independently from the government-in-exile, moving the institute to Paris in 1947. The most important activities of this institution included publishing the review Kultura (Culture), 21 the book series Biblioteka Kultury (Kultura’s Library), and Zeszyty Historyczne (Historical Notebooks). 22 In the frame of the series Biblioteka Kultury—which started in 1953—Giedroyc and his collaborators released books that were officially censored in Poland, authored both by prominent émigrés (including Witold Gombrowicz and the Nobel prize laureate Czesław Miłosz) and Poland-based writers, as well as the works of Polish and European historians, philosophers, or political commentators.
Reprints of publications issued by Instytut Literacki were smuggled into post-war Poland by many channels, 23 particularly after the “Polish October” in 1956—when more Poles were receiving passports. The second half of the 1970s with the emergence of the “second circulation” saw publications of Instytut Literacki circulating in the homeland on an even larger scale. 24 The significance of Giedroyc as “the custodian” of Polish culture may be exemplified by the fact that one of the first publications issued by Niezależna Oficyna Wydawnicza NOWA (the first and most important independent publishing house in communist Poland) in the 1970s was a collection of essays from Kultura. 25
Another dimension in which Jerzy Giedroyc related to the homeland elite was the support he showed to opposition-minded dissidents, which should be seen in the context of the overarching aim of gaining political influence in his home country. The interpretation that Giedroyc treated his journal as a tool for political action aimed at changing the political situation in Poland is frequently cited in the literature. 26 That was the case especially after 1956, when the expectation of the outbreak of the next world war was abandoned by Giedroyc and the American elite ceased to be the main “target audience” of the review. 27
Given his scarce material or political resources, in order to be able to exert influence on the homeland elites, Giedroyc gradually adopted a relatively accommodating attitude toward post-war Poland and the Yalta Order. Thus, Kultura’s stance evolved in a direction opposite to the other anti-communist émigré center in London (the government-in-exile), which stood on the position of non-recognition of the Polish People’s Republic, or the eastern border change. 28 Consequently, while the government-in-exile sought to restrict contacts with communist Poland until the second half of the 1970s, Kultura tried to maintain viable relations with the homeland. 29
Thus, I find it important to point out that Giedroyc’s relations with émigré and homeland intellectuals were not limited to the already mentioned fact that Instytut Literacki published their works (which for many of them, living in harsh material conditions, itself represented a significant contribution). These encompassed various forms of support: from sending packages to hosting them in Maisons-Laffitte or mobilizing his network to grant scholarships. 30 One of the most famous cases was the support Kultura showed to Czesław Miłosz after his decision to remain in exile. 31 As Konstanty Jeleński suggests, the Kultura circle was part of the personal (and often family) networks within the Polish elite, linking émigrés with their homeland—which, although strained during Stalinism, were reestablished after 1956. 32 Particularly important from the point of view of Giedroyc’s political activities was the cooperation developed with the post-1968 emigrants, because of their good relations with the homeland dissidents. 33
Evidence that Giedroyc’s support for intellectuals had more than purely altruistic intentions can be found, for example, in Małgorzata Ptasińska-Wójcik’s research, in which she inserted an account of tensions between Kultura’s editor and Witold Gombrowicz. When the latter began negotiations with the Poland-based publishing houses (during the Polish thaw) without Giedroyc’s mediation, the former wrote to him, irritated, “Works published by Kultura . . . cannot be published without my permission as the copyright holder. . . . I do not need to assure you that I will always accommodate myself with your desires, but if one wants to play any game with respect to the country, then things must be carried out uniformly.” 34 Needless to say, Giedroyc saw himself as the coordinator of “the game.”
The first major attempt to use Kultura’s network for political action in the homeland was the development, with the cooperation of a group of students, of a smuggling channel for illegal publications between Poland and the West via the Tatra Mountains. 35 Much more successful was the Kultura circle’s cooperation with the Swedish-based post-1968 emigrants, which resulted in establishing one of the most important clandestine smuggling networks across the Iron Curtain. It was particularly important for the development of underground publishing activities—the so-called second circulation in Poland. 36
Additionally, Kultura served as one of the most important hubs of financial support for the opposition movements. Jessie Labov has documented how the growing political role of Kultura was reflected in dedications attached to financial donations from the journal’s vast network of subscribers—from support to sustain the journal to implicit funding of opposition circles. 37 Giedroyc and Kultura were also involved in the distribution of financial support from the US government. 38 Additionally, as Janusz Korek has described, Kultura in the second half of the 1970s served as the main, multifunctional communications platform for the opposition movements. 39
Finally, Giedroyc and Kultura, at different stages of its history, served as patrons for the group of émigré intellectuals and an intermediary with the homeland, on the one side, and as a “hole in the censorship wall,” the “window to the West,” and patron for the homeland intelligentsia,on the other. These roles of Giedroyc and Kultura allow us to interpret them in terms of “intelligentsia totems.”
Giedroyc as a Totemic Figure
I agree with Smoczyński and Zarycki’s claim that one of the key “properties” of the Polish intelligentsia totems relates to their ability to “redefine symbolic status position” of actors engaged in personal relations with members of the aristocracy, including their family rituals.
40
This perspective helps to understand the almost mystical value that has been assigned to both Giedroyc and Kultura by Polish intellectuals. For example, visits at the Paris-based Kultura’s headquarters had particular value and were often associated with extraordinary levels of emotion as exemplified in many accounts. As the former chief of Polish diplomacy Grzegorz Schetyna recalls: I remember the trembling of my legs, when I walked from the suburban railway station to avenue de Poissy 91 in Maisons-Laffitte, where the Paris Kultura headquarters was located. I will never forget opening of the gates and doors of the house, which became a legend.
41
These kinds of “pilgrimages” continued after the 1989 transformation. Perhaps the most high-profile and controversial meeting was the one between Giedroyc and then president Aleksander Kwaśniewski from the post-communist camp. The latter visited Maisons-Laffitte just after the elections and several times publicly declared that it was Kultura that had shaped his “leftwing worldview.” 42 The meeting, widely seen as a sign of support shown by Giedroyc to a politician from the post-communist camp, caused serious controversies and pushed one of Kultura’s longest-standing collaborators, Gustaw Herling-Grudziński, to end his personal relationship with Giedroyc.
Those who were not lucky enough to visit France could signify their proximity to Kultura by declaring their long-lasting affinity to the journal (hence the above-mentioned declaration about “being brought up on Kultura”). The symbolic value was assigned also to books issued by Instytut Literacki in the frame of the Biblioteka Kultury series, the “distinctive covers” of which became part of Kultura’s legend. Finally, a former Polish ambassador to France describes extraordinary struggles related to Jerzy Giedroyc’s funeral. Despite the deceased’s will to keep the ceremony private, numerous officials made tremendous efforts to attend the funeral—putting the ambassador in an awkward position. On top of that, attempts to underline closeness of relations with Giedroyc caused severe tensions among the participants. 43 Thus, Andrzej Paczkowski is correct to write about “giedroyciomania” in Polish society during the post-communist period. 44
According to Durkheim, totems represent an “anonymous and impersonal force,” 45 which consists of the shared, apostatized characteristics of a given society. In this context, I’d argue that Giedroyc’s role as an intelligentsia totem is also evident, when we take into account how some of the core elements of the intelligentsia’s identity have been projected onto him. In particular, the Kultura editor’s devotion to Polish affairs is frequently stressed in accounts of his professional career. As Adam Michnik put it, in an article under the telling title “My wszyscy z Giedroycia” [ “We all come from Giedroyc”], Giedroyc “dedicated his entire self to Poland.” 46 These appreciations often go as far as to include a quasi-religious element, comparing Kultura to a monastery or phalanstery. Let me just remind the reader that as has been indicated by a number of scholars, a moral obligation or a mission to the people occupies a central place in the intelligentsia’s self-identity. 47
Last but not least, Giedroyc’s totemic status is also visible in the vast embrace of his authority by intellectuals from many parts of the political spectrum, both during the communist period 48 and after the transformation. Thus, although Adam Michnik and Rafał Ziemkiewicz (popular columnist and right-wing activist) meet fairly regularly in court for defamation trials, when it comes to underlying Giedroyc’s extraordinary merits, they speak with a single voice. At the same time, recognition of the totemic position of Giedroyc does not exclude struggles over the interpretation of his legacy, which I would argue are also struggles to legitimize particular political choices and programs with a totemic authority. Thus, Michnik writes that “Giedroyc, this ‘cosmopole’ from the East, detested ethnic nationalism, chauvinism, xenophobia. He believed that Poland needs to be taken away from the ghetto of its provincialism and tied to Europe, that Polish thinking needs to be moved on new tracks.” 49 In contrast, Ziemkiewicz argues that a “merciless assessment of contemporary people and events, from today’s perspective often looking a little exaggerated, originating from the hierarchy of values in which Giedroyc firmly believed and on top of which was Polish statehood, Polish national interest and service to Polishness.” 50
Kultura’s Line on Foreign Policy: Changing Geopolitical Constellations
As it has already been mentioned, Jerzy Giedroyc treated Kultura as a tool for political aims, the most important of which was the independence of Poland and Central and Eastern Europe from the Soviet Union. Despite significant material support for the opposition, his primary means of influence consisted of political ideas presented in the review, which he tried to implant in the minds of dissidents in the homeland. To make this possible they had to resonate, to a certain degree at least, both with the political circumstances and with the moods and political aspirations of the target audience. Thus, over a few dozen years, the review has published many different and sometimes contradictory programs or political stances.
Additionally, any attempt to reconstruct “Kultura’s” or “Giedroyc’s” or “Giedroyc-Mieroszewski’s” line on foreign policy must deal with the fact that Giedroyc himself seldom published his own articles. Only after the transformation did he introduce a new section to Kultura called the “Editor’s notes,” where he placed his short comments about various current issues. 51 Thus, Kultura’s line is most often interpreted by analyzing articles published by authors regarded as his closest collaborators, among whom the most important was Juliusz Mieroszewski. 52 This means that a reconstruction of “Kultura’s or Giedroyc’s line” is inevitably, and to a high degree, a matter of interpretation or prioritizing political ideas from certain periods, thus allowing a considerable space for interpretation.
In this context, one could divide publications on this issue into two main groups—contingent on the interpretation of Kultura’s line in the foreign policy realm. The first one would trace the evolution of “federalist” ideas for Central Europe promoted by Kultura throughout its existence. 53 The term “federation” was contingent on the changing political realities, related to different organizational forms, including both formal institutional structures (especially immediately after the end of the Second World War) and looser forms of coordination. As Janusz Korek argues, the federalist element in the Kultura program concerned the creation “of respected potential in this part of Europe,” rather than any precisely defined political structure. 54
Giedroyc and his collaborators were aware of suspicions shared by representatives of the other nations expected to build the “federation” that the Polish elite, despite declarations, had not freed itself from plans for regional hegemony. In this context, it is important to note that one version of the federalist program, the famous “ULB concept” (which I will explain later on), was perceived by Giedroyc as a necessary sacrifice on the part of the Polish elite, aimed at soothing historical quarrels and mistrust between Poland and its neighbors. 55 In this context, one should also see Giedroyc’s opposition to associating the Kultura program with the “Jagiellonian tradition,” which, referring to the times of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, argued for the creation of a federalist state. 56 Nevertheless, while Kultura indeed argued for a partnership among Central and Eastern European independent states, it saw Poland as the pivotal actor. 57
The other interpretation of Kultura’s line often places most of the focus on Mieroszewski’s political writings from the first the half of the 1970s, including his seminal essays “Rosyjski ‘kompleks polski’ i obszar ULB [Russia’s ‘Polish complex’ and the ULB area]” and “Polska Ostpolitik [Polish Ostpolitik].” 58 In the articles from this period, Mieroszewski formulated the “ULB concept,” which argued that it was in Poland’s national interest to put an end to many centuries of rivalry between Warsaw and Moscow over Eastern Europe. Renunciation of imperial claims by Poland meant recognition of the post-war changes concerning the eastern border and the loss of the so-called Kresy (Borderlands). This postulate was directly linked with a call for support for the independence of Ukraine, Lithuania, and Belarus (described by the acronym ULB). Finally, Mieroszewski called for seeking an agreement with a section of the Russian elite who would be ready to reject the imperial legacy and recognize the independence of the ULB countries.
The two models of interpretation of Kultura’s line differ also in terms of their perception of Poland’s geopolitical location. The first one highlights Giedroyc’s and Mieroszewski’s perception of Poland’s geopolitical position not only as a Soviet satellite but also as a state “between Germany and Russia” or “between East and West.” 59 From this assumption, they derived a deep conviction that Poland should be able to balance its relations not only with Russia but also Germany (not excluding rapprochement with both neighbors). As Jan Skórzyński put it, the federalist concept “in more or less detailed form, recurs in the Polish opposition thinking about the future of the [CEE] region, as a solution to the security deficit related to Russia and Germany.” 60
The second model sees Kultura’s line mainly in the context of Polish–Russian/Soviet relations. In terms of historical inspiration, it is often linked with the Promethean tradition, which postulated disintegration of the Moscow-centered empire along ethnic or national borders. 61 To sum up, one could argue that the interpretation of Kultura’s line is linked with interpretation of Poland’s geopolitical position—either as “between Germany and Russia” or “as a Soviet satellite.”
Thus, an important difference in these two models of interpretation of the Kultura program concerns not only relations among states in Central and Eastern Europe (some form of alliance versus “mere” recognition and support for their independence) but also (if not mainly) the attitude toward the West. In particular, the first model of interpretation would highlight Giedroyc’s and other Kultura associates’ reservations and ambivalence in this regard, 62 which were formed by the traumatic experience of “Western betrayal” in Yalta as well as by personal experiences of émigrés in Paris coming under attack from political forces - then sympathizing with the Stalinist regime in the Soviet Union. Emigrants were also exposed to the attitude of Westerners toward people from Eastern Europe, based on the conviction of the “civilizational superiority” of the West. 63
At the same time, it must be noted that the above-mentioned factors did not result in an anti-Western stance on the part of Giedroyc or Kultura. In fact, their “Western credentials” (including the Paris-based headquarters or their networks of contact with Western intellectuals) could be seen as another element of their totemic status, which legitimized Polish inteligentsia’s belonging to the West. Nevertheless, the above-mentioned experiences can be seen as influencing Giedroyc’s perception of Poland and Central and Eastern Europe as situated “between the West and the East.” 64 As I will show in the next section, this attitude did not fit perfectly with the strongly pro-Western orientation of the majority of the Polish elite, following the transformation of 1989.
Part II: Giedroyc’s Line after the Transformation: From the “Lowest Common Denominator” to New, Competing Interpretations
In the second part of the article, I show that interpretations of Giedroyc’s line were contingent on both the foreign policy stance of the dominant fractions of the Polish elite and the totemic status of Giedroyc as Kultura’s editor. On the one hand, immediately after the transformation, the “federalist element,” related to Giedroyc’s skepticism toward the West, was not supported by any influential camp on the political scene. 65 On the other—Giedroyc’s totemic status made it hard for the Polish intellectuals to openly repudiate the Kultura editor’s political ideas. Instead they interpreted Giedroyc’s line as entailing only those elements that fitted the unequivocally pro-Western foreign policy course.
Only when the political scene had transformed—as a result of a reconfiguration of the field of power—and a more skeptical view of the West gained political support from the conservative fraction of the post-Solidarity camp did the “federalist element” of Kultura’s line begin to be voiced. In response, the most euro-enthusiast part of the elite also began to stress the presence of the “federalist element” in Giedroyc’s line, but presented it as its flaw. In order to explain the logic of the changing interpretations of Giedroyc’s line, I will relate them to the evolution of Poland’s field of power (as well as the political field) after 1989, which in turn influenced the foreign policy stances of the major factions within the Polish elite. For the sake of clarity, I will limit the time frame of my analysis to the Civic Platform government and its reset policy toward Russia. 66
As Tomasz Zarycki has argued, the field of power in Poland has evolved from being structured by the cleavage defined by attitudes toward the legacy of Soviet domination, to being structured by the cleavage defined by attitudes toward Western hegemony. 67 From this point of view, one could talk about two stages of post-communist Poland’s history, contingent on the shape of the dominant cleavage. In the first stage, the Polish political scene was divided into post-communist and post-Solidarity camps. In the foreign policy realm, this structure was reflected in the division between forces supporting cutting off links with Moscow and pursuing an unequivocally Western-oriented foreign policy, and post-communist forces, which in the initial period after 1989 argued for sustaining close ties with Moscow. However, although in relation to internal issues (such as lustration) the post-communist camp maintained its stance for several years after 1989, in the foreign policy realm, the Euro-Atlantic policy of the post-Solidarity camp was accepted much sooner.
Since then, the consensus of both post-Solidarity and post-communist forces on the basic outlines of Poland’s foreign policy was established. It also included an understanding that Poland’s policy toward the East was to be complementary to its Western one. 68 This process was accompanied by discourses questioning traditional geopolitical readings of Poland’s location “between Germany and Russia” and instead stressing a Polish–German “community of interests.” 69
The differences between Giedroyc’s and the dominating line on foreign policy are visible when we compare the attitude of the first foreign minister (1989–1993) of post-communist Poland, Krzysztof Skubiszewski, and that of the editor of Kultura. Apart from securing Poland’s newly regained independence, Skubiszewski’s priority was rapprochement and then integration with Western Europe, which was generally seen as a “return to Europe.” 70 Thus, with regard to the East, Skubiszewski’s main interest was to ensure “that problems with eastern neighbors [do] not hinder Poland’s integration with the West.” 71 In terms of diplomatic actions, his priorities included the signing of state treaties (thus confirming mutual borders) as well as regulating the legal status of minorities according to “European standards.” 72 As Skubiszewski said, “Essentially the so-called eastern policy is an important part of our [Western] European orientation.” 73 He also allegedly stated that “the chances of the Polish eastern policy are a function of the Polish policy towards the West.” 74 Consequently, Polish diplomacy did not support Ukraine’s efforts to join the Visegrad Triangle nor President Kravchuk’s plan of a “security and stability zone” in Central and Eastern Europe, fearing that it could have negative consequences on Poland’s integration with Western institutions, including NATO. 75
As already stated, Giedroyc was critical of post-communist Poland’s foreign policy. He criticized in particular the alleged disregard for the Eastern neighborhood, and what he saw as too much attention given to the Western vector of foreign policy. Giedroyc saw the development of good relations with Ukraine and support for its independence as more important for Poland’s security than accession to NATO.
76
Also, at least in the first half of the 1990s, he advocated for close regional cooperation within Central and Eastern Europe, arguing for Ukraine’s admission to the Visegrad Group, in which Poland could play the role of a “spokesperson.”
77
This position was in line with his belief that Poland’s position in Europe, including in relations with the West, was contingent on its position in Eastern Europe: It is often stressed that our desire is to unite with Europe. However, Poland is in Europe. Our position in Europe will be strong, if we become the representative of the East. Whereas, sitting in the waiting rooms of various Western institutions as a petitioner or a beggar, does not make sense.
78
Despite such serious discrepancies between Giedroyc’s ideas and the foreign policy course, the consensus that Poland’s eastern policy was based on Kultura’s line was seldom questioned. 79 Instead, one could argue, the interpretation of Kultura’s line was adjusted to the “lowest common denominator” between the two visions. It most commonly entailed a recognition and strengthening of the eastern neighbors’ independence and borders, as well as developing good neighborly relations with these countries, and later also on supporting their integration with Western institutions. 80 This interpretation was often summarized by the motto attributed, among others, to Giedroyc—“there can be no free Poland without free Ukraine”—which Presidents Lech Wałęsa and Aleksander Kwaśniewski declared to be their foreign policy motto. It is important to note that in some of these interpretations one would also find an open acknowledgment that adherence to Giedroyc’s line facilitated Poland’s integration with the West. 81
Thus, when President Kwaśniewski engaged in developing close relations with Ukrainian leader Leonid Kuchma, it was widely perceived as following Giedroyc’s line. One can risk a claim that President Kwaśniewski was in fact able to fit part of Kultura’s line (recognition and support for the independence of the Eastern neighbors) to the dominant foreign policy aim of the “return to Europe.” To a high degree, this was possible because just before Kwaśniewski took up his office, Ukraine withdrew its previous reservations concerning Poland’s NATO membership. 82 Some authors even saw this rapprochement in Polish–Ukrainian relations as the result of a “Western emphasis on the need for sub-regional cooperation as a supplement and precondition for European integration.” 83
The Second Phase of Transformation
Increased awareness of the relative weakness of Poland (and the region of Central and Eastern Europe) in relation to the Western core, along with several internal factors, caused the reconstruction of the Polish field of power. This process was described by Zarycki as “coming to terms with the newly rediscovered, persistent peripheral position in relations with the West.” 84 In the foreign policy sphere, one can also point to a certain disillusionment concerning the nature of European integration, previously perceived in rather idealistic terms. 85 Among the factors that exposed Poland’s peripheral status were EU accession negotiations and conditions for accession, including the necessity of introducing a visa regime with Ukraine. 86 Afterward, it was mainly the inability to realize the Polish elite’s ambitions to shape EU policy in the post-Soviet area and, in particular, to grant a membership perspective to Ukraine. 87
Transformation of the field of power and the political scene brought an end to the consensus on the basic aims of foreign policy. The two main political camps significantly differed in their attitude toward the European Union and its major member states (though membership in the EU itself was never questioned). Around this new cleavage, two camps were formed: the locally oriented, conservative “anti-core,” represented by Law and Justice (PiS), and the externally oriented, liberal, “pro-core,” represented on the political scene by Civic Platform (PO). On the one hand, Jarosław Kaczyński’s PiS argued for a more assertive or “tough” foreign policy toward the EU and Germany, and criticized previous governments for a “lack of assertiveness,” as exemplified by the discourse about a foreign policy conducted “on the knees.” 88 On the other, PO gradually moved to a relatively euro-enthusiast position in foreign policy debates. Its stance could be illustrated with the then PO MP Bronisław Komorowski’s words, that “the deeper we bury ourselves in European integration, the safer we will be.” 89
In the eastern dimension, the main project of the anti-core camp, and especially President Lech Kaczyński, was the building of a coalition of Eastern European and South Caucasian states based on common energy projects, which would reduce dependence on Russia and integrate the region with the West. 90 The most important partners for these projects were the Central and Eastern European elites that President Kaczyński intended to tie to Poland. 91 One of the most spectacular displays of this project was his visit in Tbilisi, together with the leaders of Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Ukraine, where they declared solidarity with Georgia during the 2008 war with Russia.
Importantly, actions taken in the Eastern dimension were thought to improve the Polish position, not only in relations with Russia but also within the European Union. 92 Interestingly President Kaczyński would recall Giedroyc’s forgotten motto, saying “the more friends we have in the East, the stronger our position will be in the West.” In the statements of the conservative camp’s representatives, we could again find a diagnosis regarding Poland’s geopolitical location “between Germany and Russia.” 93
The pro-core camp, represented on the political scene by the PO, presented an alternative foreign policy after winning the 2007 elections. In particular, the new government argued that Poland did not possess sufficient potential to conduct an assertive policy toward Western European states (as illustrated by the famous words of Władysław Bartoszewski about Poland—“If the bride is neither beautiful nor having a large dowry, she should be at least likable and not huffy” 94 ) or an independent policy in the Eastern neighborhood. Thus, the pro-core authorities declared that Poland’s aims and actions in its eastern policy should be a function of its EU membership. 95 Consequently, the new government attempted to channel Poland’s actions through the EU. 96 As one of the MFA officials described this tactic for dealing with Russia, “We can operate more effectively from the middle, rather than from the margins.” 97 The most important project in the eastern policy was the Eastern Partnership (initiated by Polish and Swedish officials) as well as joint initiatives in relations with Eastern neighborhood states by the Polish foreign minister along with his western European colleagues. 98
In order to gain credibility for its proposals for the eastern policy, the pro-core camp saw it necessary to chip away at its image as Russophobic among some EU member states. 99 Despite grave concerns about Polish security after the Russo-Georgian War, the PO government decided to seek an improvement in relations with Russia or as the then foreign affairs minister put it, “adjusting them to the ‘European standards.’” 100 The Polish–Russian rapprochement was further strengthened by the pressure stemming from the developments in relations between major Western powers and Russia, including the US–Russian reset as well as the German–Russian and EU–Russian partnership for modernization. 101 In the symbolic sphere, the high moment of the Polish–Russian “reset” was the commemoration of the seventieth anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War, which was attended by both Angela Merkel and Vladimir Putin.
This process of embedding of Polish foreign policy in the EU was accompanied by debates concerning the question of the accuracy of Giedroyc’s and Kultura’s line. Interestingly, the (changed) structure of the Polish field of power and the disputes about foreign policy plans were again reflected in the dominant interpretations of “Giedroyc’s legacy” (or those that were earlier on the sidelines of the public debate). Thus, the common trait of these discourses was that they placed Giedroyc’s line in the context of Polish EU membership. Moreover, some representatives of both camps presented Kultura’s line as entailing the previously missing “federalist element” that prescribes a special role for Poland to play in regional politics. 102
At the same time, they differed in their assessments of this concept, which were contingent on their broader foreign policy proposals, and in particular the EU policy. Thus, the most radical pro-core camp’s representatives argued that taking into account both Poland’s limited capabilities and political realities in Europe, Giedroyc’s line was obsolete. In order to back up their argument, some of them claimed that European integration was marginal or completely beyond the scope of Kultura’s interests. 103 On the other pole, the anti-core camp’s representatives urged upholding Giedroyc’s line, which, they argued, had guided Polish foreign policy since the transformation and determined the distinctiveness of Polish political thinking in the foreign policy realm. Not only did they reject claims that EU membership made the Kultura’s line obsolete but would argue that adherence to it was a necessary condition for Poland’s success in the EU.
It should be noted that as well as these two camps, one could also identify a third one, whose members—authors regularly publishing in Gazeta Wyborcza—presented previous interpretations of Giedroyc’s line entailing support for the independence of Poland’s eastern neighbors and their integration with the Western institutions. 104 They criticized members of the pro-core camp for what they argued was acquiescing to Russia’s sphere of influence in the shared neighborhood. But in contrast to the anti-core camp they did not argue that the eastern policy should be seen as a tool in struggles with major Western European countries for a stronger position within the EU.
***
This debate was followed by great changes both in Poland’s internal politics (just to mention the Smolensk airplane catastrophe and Law and Justice’s double electoral victory in 2015) and in the geopolitical situation (e.g., the Euromaidan and the annexation of Crimea). While these developments exceed the scope of the analysis conducted in this article, two things need to be signaled.
On the one hand, the Polish eastern policy witnessed a new phenomenon of serious tensions in relations with Ukraine over policies of historical memory, centered on an assessment of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army and the massacres of Poles in Volhynia and Eastern Galicia during World War II. The breakdown in relations between Warsaw and Kiev was (partially) caused by, and has strengthened, the voices of a nationalist faction within the Polish elite and the society as a whole that argues for a confrontational stance in relations with Ukraine. This internally complex movement can be characterized by the frequent references to the memory of the Kresy—the former eastern borderlands of Poland that are a part of present-day Belarus, Lithuania, Ukraine, and Western Russia. It also has an unofficial “spokesman” in the person of Tadeusz Isakowicz-Zaleski—a charismatic Roman Catholic and Armenian Catholic priest. 105
On the other hand, what remained unchanged was the fact that the new situation was reflected in debates concerning Giedroyc’s legacy, with familiar statements about “departing” from Kultura’s line 106 or about its inadequacy to the current, drastically transformed political reality. 107 Although this time, one could hear stronger than ever the discourse—promoted by, for example, Isakowicz-Zaleski— rejecting Kultura’s line legacy altogether, 108 Giedroyc remained one of the main points of reference in the symbolic struggles of the Polish elites.
Conclusion
Jerzy Giedroyc has played an important role in Polish and European culture and politics in the twentieth century, and he should be seen as one of the leading representatives of the “dissident intellectuals” from Eastern Europe who, with limited material capacities, struggled for a new geopolitical order in Europe throughout the Cold War. 109 In this article, I have shown that the diverging assessments of Giedroyc’s influence on post-communist Poland’s foreign policy can be best understood when seen through the prism of his role as an “intelligentsia totem”—an important source of legitimization—for which elite members from different sectors of the Polish field of power compete.
By integrating this interpretation with an analysis of the changing shape of the Polish field of power and changing interpretations of Giedroyc’s line, I showed that after the transformation only some of the postulates in the foreign policy realm that Kultura’s editor promoted were actually implemented, but due to his totemic status, his role as “an architect” of eastern policy was seldom questioned. Only when the reconfiguration of the Polish field of power brought an end to the consensus in the foreign policy realm did new diverging interpretations of Kultura’s line emerge, legitimizing competing visions for Polish foreign policy.
In relation to these findings, I was also able to shed some new light on the formation of the structural foundations of post-communist Poland’s foreign policy up to the Polish-Russian reset during Civic Platform’s rule. The analysis revealed that the Eastern dimension of Poland’s foreign policy has been generally subordinated to the Western vector, that is, to the strategic goals of integration with Euro-Atlantic institutions. By deconstructing the popular belief that post-communist Poland’s foreign policy was based on Giedroyc’s political ideas, I also explained his criticism directed toward post-communist Poland’s foreign policy, including the first foreign affairs minister Krzysztof Skubiszewski.
The article also makes a wider contribution to understanding the mechanisms of legitimization among Polish elites. In particular, it shows that the legacies of great authorities, such as Jerzy Giedroyc, play an important role in their symbolic struggles and so by studying the attitudes toward these figures one can get a valuable insight into the structural divisions within the elites and the society at large. The totemic interpretation also underlines the fact that the process of legitimization within the intelligentsia elite is a two-way street. This phenomenon is most visible in the example of then president Aleksander Kwaśniewski’s visit to Paris, which should be seen not only in the context of his efforts to became a full-fledged political actor (with help from Kultura’s editor) but also as a development strengthening Giedroyc’s prestige and authority—as it was he whom the newly elected president praised and chose to meet during one of his first visits abroad. Overall, the totemic interpretation seems to be a promising path of research into intelligentsia elites both in terms of developing the concept of “intelligentsia totem” and applying it to other important figures.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to International Visegrad Fund and to Weiser Center for Europe and Eurasia for supporting my research stays at the Central European University and University of Michigan (where I was hosted by Copernicus Program in Polish Studies) during which I was able to conduct my research and prepare a revised version of this article. I would also like to express my gratitude to all of the people who helped me at different stages of preparation of this paper, especially to Borbála Faragó, Tomasz Zarycki and Geneviève Zubrzycki. The article was prepared in frame of the grant from The Polish National Science Centre (NCN) nr 2015/17/B/HS6/04181.