Hanna Kozlowska
Anti-Russian sentiment goes back beyond the Cold War.
By Hanna Kozlowska
On November 11, 1918, the end of World War I, Poland regained its place on the map of Europe, after having been wiped off for 123 years. On Poland’s Independence Day, the capital’s sky gives off a red glow and its streets are enveloped in smoke. That’s not because there’s been an elaborate fireworks show. It’s from the bright flares held by violent nationalist protesters. This November, young men set fire to two significant elements of the Warsaw landscape: a huge rainbow in the city centre, seen by many as a symbol of tolerance and openness — or gay rights — and the guard post at the Russian embassy, reflecting age-old tensions between the two countries.
The capital has regularly spun into mayhem on Independence Day. On a supposedly joyous national holiday, in a stable country that has been called Europe’s “green island” during the financial crisis, having never descended into red while the rest of Europe was hurting, cars are trashed, Molotov cocktails fly in the air and parents warn their children to stay at home. This year, on the 95th anniversary of Polish statehood, the violence was particularly pronounced.
The fourth annual ‘Independence March,’ organised by right-wing circles, attracted tens of thousands of marchers. Most of them were peaceful; many were families with children. But members of far-right extremist groups disrupted the event, clashing violently with the police and vandalising the city.
Pavements were destroyed, cars demolished, trees rooted. The police used pepper gas and rubber bullets to disperse the protesters, though their strategy was largely to avoid confrontation. Seventy-two people were detained, 19 injured, according to the TVN 24 news channel. The march was called off by city authorities before its scheduled conclusion. The rainbow structure in the city centre is perhaps the most pertinent symbol of the divisions in Polish society, of a gradual and painful transformation. The sculpture, intended as a unifying force by the artist, has been the most divisive element of the city landscape. Though celebrated by many, it was burned down for the fifth time on November 11 by nationalist protesters, this time to the ground.
Another visceral target for Polish nationalists was the Russian embassy. Protesters threw flares and firecrackers at the monumental building located by a prestigious Warsaw boulevard, setting the embassy’s sentry box on fire. The attack sparked outrage in Russia, and prompted quick apologies from the Polish government. “In recent years there was only one attack on a Russian diplomatic post, and that was in Libya,” said the Russian ambassador to Poland. Russian authorities firmly demanded an apology and compensation. Prime Minister Donald Tusk, who came out decisively against the incident, called the acts of aggression “unacceptable.”
Anti-Russian sentiment has deep-seated roots in Poland, going back centuries — well beyond the Soviet dominance of the Cold War. Russia is blamed for many Polish woes, with conspiracy theorists.
While the nationalist hooligans make up a fringe group, their actions reflect a larger shift in Polish society. With the once vigorous economic growth falling from 4.5 percent in 2011 to 1.8 in 2012, the unemployment rate high at 13 percent, Poles are increasingly dissatisfied with their government, the EU and their lives. Polls indicate that the main conservative party, Law and Justice, which has been out of power since 2007, is now gaining support over the centrist, pro-European Civic Platform, idle and incompetent in the eyes of many. The economic differences between the urban, cosmopolitan class that is reaping the benefits from the country’s transformation and those who were left behind in the process, combined with the tension between progressive Western ideas of civil society and traditional, Catholic Polish values creates fertile ground for resentment.
Warsaw residents started pushing back against the haters the day after the fire, putting fresh flowers in the scorched structure making for a sad, but hopeful image. WP-BLOOMBERG
Anti-Russian sentiment goes back beyond the Cold War.
By Hanna Kozlowska
On November 11, 1918, the end of World War I, Poland regained its place on the map of Europe, after having been wiped off for 123 years. On Poland’s Independence Day, the capital’s sky gives off a red glow and its streets are enveloped in smoke. That’s not because there’s been an elaborate fireworks show. It’s from the bright flares held by violent nationalist protesters. This November, young men set fire to two significant elements of the Warsaw landscape: a huge rainbow in the city centre, seen by many as a symbol of tolerance and openness — or gay rights — and the guard post at the Russian embassy, reflecting age-old tensions between the two countries.
The capital has regularly spun into mayhem on Independence Day. On a supposedly joyous national holiday, in a stable country that has been called Europe’s “green island” during the financial crisis, having never descended into red while the rest of Europe was hurting, cars are trashed, Molotov cocktails fly in the air and parents warn their children to stay at home. This year, on the 95th anniversary of Polish statehood, the violence was particularly pronounced.
The fourth annual ‘Independence March,’ organised by right-wing circles, attracted tens of thousands of marchers. Most of them were peaceful; many were families with children. But members of far-right extremist groups disrupted the event, clashing violently with the police and vandalising the city.
Pavements were destroyed, cars demolished, trees rooted. The police used pepper gas and rubber bullets to disperse the protesters, though their strategy was largely to avoid confrontation. Seventy-two people were detained, 19 injured, according to the TVN 24 news channel. The march was called off by city authorities before its scheduled conclusion. The rainbow structure in the city centre is perhaps the most pertinent symbol of the divisions in Polish society, of a gradual and painful transformation. The sculpture, intended as a unifying force by the artist, has been the most divisive element of the city landscape. Though celebrated by many, it was burned down for the fifth time on November 11 by nationalist protesters, this time to the ground.
Another visceral target for Polish nationalists was the Russian embassy. Protesters threw flares and firecrackers at the monumental building located by a prestigious Warsaw boulevard, setting the embassy’s sentry box on fire. The attack sparked outrage in Russia, and prompted quick apologies from the Polish government. “In recent years there was only one attack on a Russian diplomatic post, and that was in Libya,” said the Russian ambassador to Poland. Russian authorities firmly demanded an apology and compensation. Prime Minister Donald Tusk, who came out decisively against the incident, called the acts of aggression “unacceptable.”
Anti-Russian sentiment has deep-seated roots in Poland, going back centuries — well beyond the Soviet dominance of the Cold War. Russia is blamed for many Polish woes, with conspiracy theorists.
While the nationalist hooligans make up a fringe group, their actions reflect a larger shift in Polish society. With the once vigorous economic growth falling from 4.5 percent in 2011 to 1.8 in 2012, the unemployment rate high at 13 percent, Poles are increasingly dissatisfied with their government, the EU and their lives. Polls indicate that the main conservative party, Law and Justice, which has been out of power since 2007, is now gaining support over the centrist, pro-European Civic Platform, idle and incompetent in the eyes of many. The economic differences between the urban, cosmopolitan class that is reaping the benefits from the country’s transformation and those who were left behind in the process, combined with the tension between progressive Western ideas of civil society and traditional, Catholic Polish values creates fertile ground for resentment.
Warsaw residents started pushing back against the haters the day after the fire, putting fresh flowers in the scorched structure making for a sad, but hopeful image. WP-BLOOMBERG
