The Polish Writers' Union in Gomułka's Polish People's

Home , Anna Kowalska, Carl Tighe, Czytelnik, Jerzy Andrzejewski, Jerzy Borejsza, Jerzy Putrament

Republic, 1956-1970

A thesis submitted to The University of Manchester for the degree of Doctor of

Philosophy in the Faculty of Humanities

2019

Iwona Skorbilowicz

School of Arts, Languages and Cultures

Table of Contents

Main Abbreviations 3

Abstract 4

Declaration 6

Acknowledgments 7

Introduction 9

Chapter 1: The Institutional Profile of the Union of Polish Writers 31

Chapter 2: The Polish Writers’ Union: The System of Benefits and Privileges 65

Chapter 3: Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz at the Helm: Two Presidencies compared 107

Chapter 4: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship 152

Chapter 5: Primary Party Organisation as a Mechanism of Control over the Polish Writers’ Union 209

Conclusions 254

Bibliography 270

Word Count: 79, 152

Abbreviations

GUKPPiW -- Główny Urząd Kontroli Prasy, Publikacji i Widowisk (The Main Office for the Control of the Press, Publications and Performances)

KCZZ -- Komisja Centralna Związków Zawodowych (The Central Commission of the Trade Unions)

POP -- Podstawowa Organizacja Partyjna (Primary Party Organisation)

PZPR -- Polska Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza (The Polish United Workers’ Party)

ZLP -- Związek Literatów Polskich (The Union of Polish Writers)

Abstract

This study aims to analyse the specific context of changing cultural policies under

Władysław Gomułka’s rule, providing a detailed analysis of the specificity and fluctuating nature of the relationship between literati and the Party-state from 1956 to

1970. This important period, is, in fact, underrsearched in existing scholarship. On the basis of a wide-range of previously unstudied archival sources, the thesis provides new evidence to demonstrate that the relationship between the regime and literary circles was, at least to some extent, symbiotic and, at times, mutually accommodating. It highlights and analyses various aspects of the relations between power and culture, offering new evidence to highlight their multifaceted nature and complexity in the aftermath of the Kremlin-initiated de-Stalinisation campaign across the Soviet bloc.

Using the situation within the Polish Writers’ Union as its case study, the thesis demonstrates that, despite the repressive political system and the Party-state’s aim of exerting complete control over literary production, some writers and the Union of which they were members had agency and were able to affect the existing situation, obtain greater benefits, and, at times, even expand their agency and directly or indirectly contribute to political change. The thesis attempt to ascertain the degree of agency cultural figures had under the communist rule and analyse the ways they could exert it is the most original part of the thesis. The study further evaluates the levels of control over the Union and concludes that the Party-state often struggled fully to control not only the Union but even its own main tool of control, the Primary Party

Organisation. The reduction in the regime’s control, following Stalin’s death, and the increasing levels of the writers’ agency had considerable repercussions in post-

Gomułka Poland. Finally, the dissertation provides evidence that continued protests, the emergence of an oppositional faction and demands for free speech in the 1960s, however indirectly, influenced later changes in the censorship system, the emergence of the Solidarność movement and political change in Poland.

Declaration

No portion of the work referred to in the thesis has been submitted in support of an application for another degree or qualification of this or any other university or other institute of learning.

The author of this thesis (including any appendices and/or schedules to this thesis) owns certain copyright or related rights in it (the “Copyright”) and s/he has given The University of Manchester certain rights to use such Copyright, including for administrative purposes. Copies of this thesis, either in full or in extracts and whether in hard or electronic copy, may be made only in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (as amended) and regulations issued under it or, where appropriate, in accordance with licensing agreements which the University has from time to time. This page must form part of any such copies made. The ownership of certain Copyright, patents, designs, trademarks and other intellectual property (the “Intellectual Property”) and any reproductions of copyright works in the thesis, for example graphs and tables (“Reproductions”), which may be described in this thesis, may not be owned by the author and may be owned by third parties. Such Intellectual Property and Reproductions cannot and must not be made available for use without the prior written permission of the owner(s) of the relevant Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions. Further information on the conditions under which disclosure, publication and commercialisation of this thesis, the Copyright and any Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions described in it may take place is available in the University IP Policy (see http://documents.manchester.ac.uk/DocuInfo.aspx?DocID=2442 0), in any relevant Thesis restriction declarations deposited in the University Library, The University Library’s regulations (see http://www.library.manchester.ac.uk/about/regulations/) and in The University’s policy on Presentation of Thesis.

Acknowledgments

If you can’t fly, then run If you can’t run, then walk If you can’t walk, then crawl, But by all means, keep moving (Martin Luther King Jr.)

Admittedly, this PhD project was impacted by life drama and I often crawled forward very slowly. I kept moving though and there are a lot of people who helped me move forward. First of all, I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to my main Supervisor, Prof. Vera Tolz for inspiring me, already during my undergraduate degree, to embark on a PhD adventure. A full-hearted thank you goes to Dr Ewa Ochman for inspiring me not to quit when I was so close to giving up. I am grateful to both of my fantastic Supervisors for their constant support, endless meetings, time and energy they put in to supervising my PhD project. Most importantly, however, I thank you for being there for me in some of the hardest times of my life, for advice, kind words and emotional support without which I would not have been able to get to the end of this long obstacle course of a PhD. Thank you to both of you for being far more than my Supervisors, for going beyond and above your job description which made many of my fellow PhD students jealous.

I would like to thank the ESRC North West Social Sciences Doctoral Training Partnership and CEELBAS AHRC Centre for Doctoral Training for providing funding for my research project. I would also like express my gratitude to the Postgraduate Research Office at the School of Arts, Languages and Cultures at Manchester University for making my life as easy as possible regarding the administrative side of doing a PhD and being so patient with my multiple inquiries.

Many thanks to Dr Konrad Rokicki for sharing his knowledge and vast resources which he so generously has been lending me for years, thus allowing me to build my own private library at home. It is much appreciated.

To Stephen for never-ending listening about the Polish Writers’ Union and my two fascinating men, Iwaszkiewicz and Słonimski, most of the time not even knowing which one was which.

To Auntie for believing in me when I did not believe in myself, and thank you for giving me unconditional love and support, for the hours of phone conversations, for helping me get through the hard times and sharing happiness in the good times. Most importantly, thank you for being proud of me for no particular reason, just because I am me.

To my friends who never judged, to whom my value as a human being was never connected to my achievements or the lack thereof. A special thank you to Justyna for being in my life, for being the family I never had and for always being there for me.

Lastly, I want to thank myself for the perseverance, determination and stubbornness to get to the end despite life getting in the way of my research project. Well done for proving to myself that I can do anything I put my mind to and realising that I am definitely a person who never gives up.

Introduction: The Polish Writers' Union in Gomułka's Polish People's Republic,

1956-1970

This thesis explores the nature of the relationship between power and culture under the communist regime in Poland between 1956 and 1970, focusing particularly on the interactions between the governing structures of the Polish United Workers’ Party

(Polska Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza – PZPR) and the Union of Polish Writers

(Związek Literatów Polskich – ZLP). Two of those years, 1956 and 1970, that initiated spells of loosened political restrictions in cultural production and diminished levels of control over Union’s activities. However, the period in between was characterised by fluctuating cultural policies, with the regime from the late 1950s taking steps to tighten control over literary production. As Gomułka was the longest serving First

Secretary, coming to power on the wave of the so-called post-Stalin Thaw that began in the USSR and affected the entire Soviet bloc the period of investigation is particularly notable due to the complexities of the relationship between the authorities and literary circles. The 1960s witnessed fluctuating levels of control and the emergence of open protest against the Party-state politics. Yet this period has attracted less scholarly attention than both the earlier and later stages of communist rule. This thesis aims to contribute to a better understanding of the period and its importance.

In order to address the broader issue of the specific relationship between culture and power in Gomułka’s Poland, the thesis analyses the actions both of the Party-state and of the ZLP and from two perspectives. Firstly, it acknowledges that decisions regarding

9 the politics of culture were part of a political strategy which was to shape social behaviour and help legitimise the regime. However, it also argues that the actions of individuals responsible for creating and implementing cultural directives, as well as the responses of literary circles, were influenced not only by the political context of that time, but also by subjective experiences of individual personalities.

In order to shed new light on the complex ways in which the Writers’ Union functioned under the communist regime, the thesis poses a series of questions which focus on two main areas - the actual status of the Union on the one hand, and the agency (if any) of its members on the other, while at the same time making clear that the levels of Party-state control in this period were in a state of fluctuation.

For the purpose of this analysis, ‘agency’ is understood as the ability of individual writers and their organisation as a whole to further their goals or express discontent with the politics of culture under a restrictive regime, and especially against clear top- down directives. Thus, agency is the ability to manoeuvre within and to manipulate the existing system of fluctuating cultural policies in order to advance the organisation’s and individual agendas through official and unofficial channels.1

Presenting agency as one of its most problematised notions, the thesis asks the following questions. To what extent could individual members openly criticise the regime? What were the consequences, both for the Union and the Party-state? What

1 I distinguish agency from autonomy, defining the latter as an ability of an organisation to make independent decisions on policy-related issues of major significance. In the context of the communist regime, the concept of autonomy is not appropriate for understanding the position of an organisation such as the Writers’ Union.

10 do the possibility of open protests and the existence of an oppositional faction within the ZLP tell us about the nature of the relationship between power and culture under communist rule?

One of the most salient issues in this thesis is the regime’s diminished level of control at times of political upheaval. Why was the regime, at times, unable or unwilling to exert greater control over the disobedient Union, or the individual members of the

Union who were involved in protests? How was it possible that the supposedly all- controlling Party-state sometimes struggled to control its own tool for controlling the

ZLP, namely the Primary Party Organisation?

This thesis demonstrates that interactions between the regime and literary circles depended on the political context of the time, which was influenced by events in the

Soviet bloc as well as by the national political approach to cultural issues. Furthermore, it argues that this relationship was based on action and reaction rather than being one- sided or fully arbitrary. It contends that there was an intersection between open opposition, work within the system to advance the Union’s agenda, adaptation to the environment, and the use of certain aspects of the regime by the literary circles for their own benefit. This project posits that tensions between the authorities and the

Union were a type of a chain reaction. Thus, the actions of both sides resulted in a change in the relationship between the actors, which implies that power and culture struggled against each other to gain control over the state of literary production.

Indeed, actions on the part of the Union and its individual members to a large extent depended on the regime’s position and actions. However, the thesis also demonstrates that the Party-state depended on writers to advance its own agenda and help

11 legitimise the regime, using the Union and its prominent members as a propaganda tool. Accordingly the regime sometimes permitted significant levels of disobedience, opposition and expression of dissatisfaction, especially by the most renowned writers.

The main argument of this thesis is that at times, and especially at times of political upheaval, the regime was not only unwilling to use extreme measures in order to exert greater control over literary circles, but was simply unable to do so.

As this thesis focuses on the interplay between power and culture, as analysed through the narrow lens of literati versus the Party-state, it is vital to provide the definitions of power and culture which are used in this project.

Literature Review

This thesis adheres to the definitions of power and culture put forward by Sheila

Fitzpatrick in her research on the politics of culture in the Soviet Union. Accordingly, power is understood to be embodied in the leading decision-making state and party organisations, and in the Party-state leaders and officials who attempted to influence the form, content and meaning of literary production.2 This definition of power includes official top-down directives and repressions, as well as indirect ways of putting pressure on literary circles, such as through financial means. This definition can be applied to Gomułka’s Poland.

2 Fitzpatrick, Sheila (1992) The Cultural Front: Power and culture in revolutionary Russia, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, pp: 1-2.

Culture in the Soviet context is defined by Fitzpatrick as ‘high culture’ or cultural traditions cultivated by members of intelligentsia.3 This is the type of culture that the

Polish Writers' Union generally promoted. The cultural values transmitted by members of the intelligentsia in Poland were vital for both the writers themselves, and the Party- state, which aimed to use literature, and the country’s most prominent writers, for the purpose of legitimising the regime. Accordingly, the thesis concurs with Fitzpatrick’s notion that despite the existence of ‘the cultural front’, where two forces of power and culture intersected and struggled against each other, there was also a mutual interdependency between them. Indeed, in Gomułka’s Poland, the regime did aim to use writers to advance the Party-state agenda. However, as the Union was dependant on state funding as well as access to the state-controlled publishing sector, it needed the regime to advance its own demands. Furthermore, it is notable that the individual actors who were the most prominent writers could use their positions to aid the Union and/or its individual members, as well as enjoying a level of privilege and leniency from the Party-state due to their value as a tool of state propaganda.

A significant body of scholarly literature produced in English analyses the complex interdependence between power and culture with regards to the Soviet Union, and examination of these secondary sources will inform my analysis.4 In the 1970s and

1980s, Fitzpatrick began to challenge simplistic representations of the Soviet politics of culture, which portrayed it as a one-way system of influence and control by the communist power over the entire cultural sphere. Instead, she put forward a complex

3 Ibid. 4 Fitzpatrick (1992); Leighton, Lauren G. (1991) Two Worlds, One Art: Literary translation in Russia and America, DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press; Peteri, Gyorgy (ed.) (2010) Imagining the West in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press.

13 understanding of an intertwined two-way relationship, going back to the pre- revolutionary period, in which, alongside the regime's imposition of new communist values, the party elite was also influenced by the cultural values of the Russian intelligentsia.5 Following Fitzpatrick's lead, other scholars have produced specific case studies which demonstrate that Soviet cultural figures, including those who did not fully share the communist regime's objectives, were not entirely deprived of agency.

This has been shown, for example, by Nely Safiullina and Rachel Platonov in relation to the translation of foreign literature in the Soviet Union.6 In turn, Nikolai Krementsov has investigated the growing authority of top Soviet academics in the post-war period.7

Vera Tolz has analysed the level of control that the writers, musicians and artists, who constituted the leadership of the USSR's creative unions, exercised over rank-and-file members in the late Stalin and early post-Stalin periods.8 Kiril Tomoff's work has focused on the agency of the leaders and members of the USSR's Union of

Composers.9 Their approaches have influenced my own analysis of the Polish sources.

John and Carol Garrards’ monograph examines the functioning of the Soviet Writers’

Union from the Stalin period up until the systemic changes in the politics of culture which occurred in the USSR in the late 1980s.10 I have used this work as a basis for

5 Fitzpatrick (1992); Fitzpatrick, Sheila (1970) The Commissariat of Enlightenment: Soviet organisation of education and the arts under Lunacharsky October 1917-1921, London: Cambridge University Press. 6 Safiullina, Nely and Rachel Platonov (2012) 'Literary Translation and Soviet Cultural Politics in the 1930s: the role of the journal Internacional'naja literatura', Russian Literature 72(2): 239-269. 7 Krementsov, Nikolai (1997) Stalinist Science, Princeton: Princeton University Press. 8 Tolz, Vera (2002) ‘‘Cultural Bosses’ as Patrons and Clients: the Functioning of the Soviet Creative Unions in the Post-war Period', Contemporary European History 11(1): 87-105. 9 Tomoff, Kiril (2006) Creative Union: The professional organisation of Soviet composers 1939-1953, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 10 Garrard, John and Carol Garrard (1990) Inside the Soviet Writers’ Union, London and New York: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd.

14 comparison between the Soviet Writers’ Union and the Polish Writers’ Union, which has made it possible for me to demonstrate the specificity of the Polish politics of culture. This, accordingly, will enrich our knowledge of the functioning of communist regimes in different parts of the Soviet bloc.

Another important body of scholarship has focused on the agency of cultural figures in promoting nationalist ideologies during the communist era. Starting from the 1960s, the communist governments’ embrace of nationalism, which arguably allowed communist regimes to survive longer than they otherwise would have, was evident across the entire Soviet bloc. Katherine Verdery's book on Romania pioneered the study of this trend, while the most detailed account in relation to the Soviet Union is that of Yitzhak Brudny.11 Both books foreground the role of cultural figures, particularly writers.12 These sources are relevant to this project as the nationalist discourse articulated in Poland was used by the regime to divert the attention of the general public away from the system's failings. The use of nationalist rhetoric resulted in the escalation of the anti-Semitic campaign in 1968, which allowed the regime to suppress protests which were demanding changes, especially to the system of censorship.

In comparison, research explicitly focused on the politics of culture in Poland is quite limited. Patryk Babiracki discusses the use of soft power, which is defined as the Soviet state's ability to influence foreign actors through its culture and values rather than through force and coercion, in the early stages of building the Socialist regime in

11 Verdery, Katherine (1991) National Ideology Under Socialism: Identity and cultural politics in Ceauşescu’s Romania, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press; Brudny, Yitzhak (2000) Reinventing Russia: Russian Nationalism and the Soviet State, 1953-1990, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press;

Poland.13 Babiracki’s work points to the vital issue of the expectations and needs of individuals responsible for implementing top-down directives, and examines their agency, however limited, in running institutions and organisations. Although my project focuses on a different time period, it investigates some of the same aspects of the relationship between power and culture. It argues that the use of cultural diplomacy -- one of the key soft-power tools -- continued to be a vital component of the legitimisation of the communist regime in Poland. This use of culture both for soft- power purposes abroad, and to improve the regime's image at home, resulted in the

Party-state encouraging writers to cooperate with the governing institutions and to help advance the political agenda. This project discusses the regime’s plan in the

Gomułka era to entice writers into participating in its cause by examining its use of the system of privileges and benefits.

Scholarly literature regarding the relationship between the authorities and the Union of Polish Writers is rather thin, and there are virtually no publications on the topic available in English. Carl Tighe does focus on this subject, but in his research the decade following WWII attracts predominant attention.14 He also does not refer to the relationship between the Party-state and the Writers’ Union. He focuses mainly on the stories of some individual writers and the role of the ‘lay Left’ in bringing communist rule to an end, and provides a somewhat simplified account. The introductions to prominent writers’ stories are useful as a basis for the further research presented in

13 Babiracki, Patryk (2015) Soviet Soft Power: Culture and the making of Stalin’s new empire, 1943-1957, Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press; Babiracki, Patryk (2009) ‘Between Compromise and Distrust’, Cultural and Social History (6):3, pp: 345-367. 14 Tighe, Carl (1996), ‘The Polish Writing Profession: 1944-1956’, Contemporary European History (5): 1, pp: 71-101; Tighe, Carl (1999) The Politics of Literature: Poland 1945-1989, Cardiff: University of Wales Press.

16 my project, but my thesis aims to provide a more complex understanding of the role of the writers in shaping the relationship with the Party-state, with even oppositional writers functioning within the system and to a greater or lesser extent cooperating with the regime through the sheer fact of belonging to the Union structures.

Scholarly publications in Poland focus mainly on the initial post-war decade and the

1980s, the latter constituting the final decade of the communist regime in Poland.

There are two explanations for this focus on the first and final decades of communism in Poland. After the collapse of the regime, archival materials were made available to the public in chronological order; hence the documents concerning the initial-post war years were available first. Furthermore, the regime was at its most brutal in this period, and so particularly striking examples of repression could be revealed.

Previously, literature pertaining to the pre-Thaw period tended to focus on just one aspect of the regime’s control over the literary sphere, which was the most visible, i.e. censorship.15

The 1980s are a popular research period because of the ‘Solidarność’ movement and its involvement in political changes in the country. Many of the Polish researchers lived through the systemic changes, and so were themselves actors within the social, cultural and political contexts of the 1980s. Moreover, as the 1970s witnessed a loosening of restrictions and, towards the end of the decade, the emergence of an independent publishing sector, the censorship system and artistic production outside of its influence became the main focus of research. Andrzej Krajewski’s work pertains

15 Budrowska, Kamila (2012) Literatura i pisarze wobec cenzury PRL 1945-1958 [Literature and Writers towards Censorship in Polish People’s Republic 1945-1958], Białystok: Białystok University Press; Czarnik, Oskar Stanisław (2001) ‘Control of Literary Communication in the 1945–1956 Period in Poland’ in Libraries and Cultures 36(1): 104-115.

17 to all creative Unions and their functioning within the regime in the context of less restrictive censorship rules.16 Other sources provide a rather general overview of all types of artistic production towards the end of the communist regime, or focus on systemic changes pertaining to the collapse of communism and the abolishment of the censorship system.17

Many researchers, journalists and writers witnessed themselves the collapse of the communist regime, which may explain the tendency of some Polish sources to provide a somewhat one-sided analysis of culture and power relations, writers’ attitudes and decisions, and the levels of control exerted by the government over cultural production. Some authors appear to see the relationship between the Party and writers as a purely top-down relationship, and detect only a culture of disempowerment.18 This tendency highlights how contentious the subject of the relationship between the literati and the regime is in Polish literature. Many authors of scholarly and popular works are partisan in their analysis, which is especially noticeable in the works produced for a lay audience.

The controversial aspect of the topic is also demonstrated by a small body of literature which offers a very limited perspective on the issue of the creative professions under

16 Krajewski, Andrzej (2004) Między współpracą a oporem. Twórcy kultury wobec systemu politycznego PRL 1975-1980 [Between Cooperation and Resistance. Creators of culture towards political system of PRL 1975-1980], Warszawa: TRIO; 17 Kandziora, Jerzy, Szymańska, Zyta and Krystyna Tokarzówna (1999) Bez cenzury 1976-1989 [Without Censorship 1976-1989], Warszawa: IBL; Nasiłkowska, Anna (2006) Literatura okresu przejściowego 1975- 1996 [Literature of the Transitional Period 1975-1996], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN. 18 Stanisław Murzański (1993) Między kompromisem a zdradą. Intelektualiści wobec przemocy 1945- 1956 [Between a Compromise and Betrayal. Intellectuals’ attitudes towards violence 1945-1956], Warsaw: Volumen; Gogol, Bogusław (2012) Fabryka fałszywych tekstów [The Factory of Falsified Texts], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Neriton; Błażejewska, Justyna and Cecylia Kuta (2013) Od uległości do niezależności. Literaci i literatura 1944-1989 [From the Subjugation to Independence. Writers and literature 1944-1989], Kraków: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej/Komisja Scigania Zbrodni Przeciwko Narodowi Polskiemu.

18 the communist regime, presenting writers either as collaborators or as oppositionists to the regime. The most evident example of exploring the subject through the prism of traitors and heroes can be found in Jacek Trznadel’s work, which presents writers’ stories without considering the political and historical contexts which influenced their decisions.19 By stating that any form of cooperation with the regime rested on a

‘tendency to conformism’, the author fails to address the complexity of personal decisions, the reality of living and working under the communist regime and the fact that many of the ‘privileged’ writers used their position to aid less famous members of the Union. Journalist Joanna Siedlecka presents this binary view on the actions of literary circles without addressing the intricacies of the professional and personal lives people experienced under the regime. The author also fails to analyse other possible reasons for cooperation with the regime, apart from material remuneration.20

Notwithstanding the fact that the books referred to above are popular works and so cannot be judged by the same standards as academic studies, they still highlight the fact that the topic of literary circles and the Party-state is contentious. This thesis aims to provide a more complex analysis of the nature of the politics of culture under communism.

Two works by Krzysztof Woźniakowski which focus on the initial post-war years are a reliable source concerning historical and political contexts, and provide a set of documents regarding financial and personnel-related issues in the Union between

19 Trznadel, Jacek (1990) Hańba domowa [Domestic Disgrace], Lublin: Test. 20 Siedlecka, Joanna (2005) Obława. Losy pisarzy represjonowanych [Round-up. The fate of victimised writers], Warszawa: Pruszyński i Spółka; Siedlecka, Joanna (2015) Biografie odtajnione. Z archiwów literackich bezpieki [Declassified Biographies. From the literary archives of the Security Services], Poznań: Zysk i Spółka.

1949 and 1959.21 Woźniakowski also offers a detailed analysis of the politics of culture in relation to the Writers’ Union. The author’s conclusions are analogous to the arguments put forward by Fitzpatrick in relation to the Soviet Union. The Polish government adopted many systemic solutions which were first implemented in the

Soviet Union. It delegated some elements of the control and regulation of the creative professions to selected representatives of these professions, and by doing so, attempted to create a channel for the downward transmission of cultural directives.22

Moreover, Woźniakowski offers a detailed analysis of the political context, which includes the examination of political fractions which were dividing the Union itself. The author draws the conclusion that members of the Union missed several opportunities to gain more agency, because the divisions within the ranks prohibited them from reaching a consensus.

A similarly detailed analysis of the literary circles in Poland is provided by Anna Bikont and Joanna Szczęsna, making much use of freely available archival sources. The authors examine the politics of culture by analysing the key ideological, moral and aesthetic challenges facing the most prominent literary figures.23 They discuss the entire communist period in Poland, which means they are unable to look at specific periods in detail. This thesis aims at a narrower scope and period, which will ensure more in-depth analysis; it will highlight the specificities of the Polish case, and go

21 Woźniakowski, Krzysztof (1986) ‘Na ostrym zakręcie’ [The Sharp Turn], Rocznik Komisji Historycznoliterackiej [Annual Volume of Historical and Literary Committee], XXIII; Woźniakowski, Krzysztof (1990) Między ubezwłasnowolnieniem a opozycją. Związek Literatów Polskich w latach 1949- 1959 [Between the Subjugation and Opposition. The Polish Writers’ Union 1949-1959], Kraków: Uniwersytet Jagielloński. 22 Fitzpatrick (1992), pp: 14-15. Please see also pp: 245-248. Woźniakowski (1990), pp: 139-143. 23 Bikont, Anna and Joanna Szczęsna (2006) Lawina i kamienie.Pisarze wobec komunizmu [Avalanche and Stones. Writers and communism], Warszawa: Prószyński i Spółka.

20 beyond observations which would be applicable to most of the countries in the Soviet bloc.

The only research specifically regarding the relationship between the literary circles and the Party-state between 1956 and 1970 was carried out by Konrad Rokicki, whose monograph was published in 2011.24 Rokicki’s in-depth analysis of various aspects of this relationship has been a major inspiration for this thesis. He examines the mechanisms of control exerted over the cultural sphere, investigates changes of attitudes among writers and their correlation with top-down cultural directives, and explains how the oppositional faction within the Union came into being. Rather than passing moral judgement, Rokicki acknowledges the specific political context within which these events unfolded and actions took place. This thesis builds on Rokicki’s findings in that it attempts to demonstrate the complexity of life and work under the communist regime, but also provides new evidence regarding the multifaceted nature of the relationship between power and culture in the Gomułka era. In contrast to

Rokicki, however, this thesis foregrounds the perspective of the Writers’ Union, putting new historical evidence from the Writers’ Union’s institutional archive, which is not the focus of Rokicki’s monograph, at the centre of the analysis. This makes it possible to focus on the issue of agency on the part of the literati, which has not been explored to the same degree by any other scholar.

24 Rokicki, Konrad (2011) Literaci. Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956-1970 [Writers. Relations between the writers and the authorities of the People's Republic of Poland 1956- 1970], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej.

Primary sources

This work is based on a wide range of primary sources, some of which have never previously been studied by scholars. These sources can be divided into three categories. The most important for this thesis is the Polish Writers’ Union Archives in

Warsaw. These contain documents detailing the inner workings of the Union and its relationship with the Party and government institutions, including reports on the

Writers’ Union Congresses, meetings of the Executive Board, and Union statutes.

These archival holdings shed light on the Union’s day-to-day activities, financial issues and debates pertaining to critical points during the period of the Union’s protests.

I also closely examined published volumes of documents pertaining to the Polish

Workers’ Party, the Primary Party Organization within the Union, the Ministry of

Internal Affairs, and the Security Services.25 These documents allow for a comparative analysis of top-down directives and official reports produced for the use of the Party- state institutions, and reports and minutes produced by the Union. This provides

25 Dudek, Antoni, Aleksander Kochański and Krzysztof Persak (2000) (eds) Centrum władzy: Protokoły Posiedzeń Kierownictwa PZPR z lat 1949-1970 [The Centre of Power: Minutes from the Meetings of the Executive Board of the Polish Workers’ Party 1949-1970], Warsaw: Wydawnicza Typografika; Jarosz, Dariusz (1999) ‘Działalność Podstawowej Organizacji Partyjnej PZPR przy Zarządzie Głównym Związku Literatów Polskich 1949-1953 (w świetle akt własnych)’ [Activities of the Basic Party Organisation Working along the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union (in accordance with their own archival sources)], Mazowieckie Studia Humanistyczne 5(1): 5-45; (2008) Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I Niepokorni [March 1968 in Documents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Vol I The Unruly], Franciszek Dąbrowski, Piotr Gontarczyk and Paweł Tomasik (eds), Warszawa:Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2009) Tom II Część I Kronika wydarzeń [Vol II Part I Chronicle of Events], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2015)Tom III Część II Kronika wydarzeń [Vol III Part II Chronicle of Events], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2009) Twórczość obca nam klasowo: Aparat represji wobec środowiska literackiego 1956-1970 [The Alien Class Works: The apparatus of repression and the literary circles 1956-1970], Andrzej Chojnowski and Sebastian Ligarski (eds), Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (1996) Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959], Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia.

22 insight into the levels of control exerted over the Union, and the bottom-up response to official directives.

Lastly, this project makes use of a vast body of diaries and memoirs. These were produced by writers belonging to the Writers’ Union, as well as some political figures, for the most part at the actual time of the events. These highlight the attitudes and opinions of the most important actors shaping the relationship between the Union and the Party-state, and provide insight into the atmosphere in the Union, and the views of rank-and-file members. They also provide an alternative view of events which can be juxtaposed against the official documents prepared for the Party-controlled organisations. This vast body of diaries and memoirs aid the investigation of the decision making processes of the individuals involved in the implementation of cultural directives in Poland and, specifically, the cultural directives relating to the Writers’

Union.26

The diaries of Maria Dąbrowska constitute one of the most vital sources used in this study. She was the most renowned author in the ZLP, was universally respected and admired by writers who held very different views, and is considered to be one of the foremost observers of Polish cultural and political life of the time.27 Dąbrowska’s

26 Synoradzka, Anna (1997) Andrzejewski [Andrzejewski], Kraków: Iskry; Kisielewski, Stefan (2001) Dzienniki [Diaries], Warszawa: Iskry; Tejchma, Józef (1991) Kulisy dymisji: Z dzienników ministra kultury 1974-1977 [Behind the Scenes of the Resignation: From the diaries of the minister of culture 1974- 1977], Kraków: Oficyna Cracovia; Mycielski, Zygmunt (2001) Dziennik 1960-1969 [The Diary 1960-1969], Warszawa: Iskry; Prorok, Leszek (1998) Dziennik 1949-1984 [A Diary 1949-1984], Łódź: Wydawnictwo Baran i Suszczyński; Jastrun, Mieczysław (2002) Dziennik 1955-1981 [A Diary 1955-1981], Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie; Putrament, Jerzy (1980) Pół wieku: Poślizg [Half a Century: A skid], Warszawa: Czytelnik; Rakowski, Mieczysław (1999) Dzienniki polityczne 1958-1990 [Political Diaries 1958-1990], Warszawa: Iskry. 27 Dąbrowska Maria (1996) Dzienniki powojenne 1945-1965 [Post-war Diaries 1945-1965], Warszawa: Czytelnik (This is a IV-volume diary).

23 diaries are an unprecedented source of information regarding her personal opinions, the views represented by other writers, the atmosphere amongst literary circles during the times of upheaval, and her personal experiences as an author under the communist regime.

The diaries and memoirs of Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz, consecutive presidents of the Union who held their posts between 1956 and 1970, are also of great importance for this thesis.28 The diaries of these prominent writers shed light on their respective presidencies and highlight the complexities of the decision-making processes within the Union. This thesis demonstrates how these actors attempted to aid rank-and-file members through unofficial channels as well as how and why they prioritised different agendas, taking into account the different political contexts of their respective presidencies.

I am, of course, fully aware of the potentially problematic nature of memoirs as a historical source. Any historical document reflects the position and potential biases of its author and the political, social and cultural context within which it is produced. As retrospective personal accounts, memoirs in particular suffer from their authors’ memory flaws and their desire for a particular self-representation and self-justification.

However, if they are read critically, memoirs offer an indispensable source for a scholar interested in social history and the motivations behind the actions of people on the receiving end of state policies under a highly repressive regime.29 They are a

28 Iwaszkiewicz, Jarosław (2010) Dzienniki 1911-1980 [Diaries 1911-1980], Warszawa: Czytelnik (III volumes: 1911-1955, 1956-1963, 1964-1980); Słonimski, Antoni (1987) Wspomnienia warszawskie [Memories of Warsaw], Warszawa: Czytelnik. 29 For an insightful discussion of memoirs as a historical source, see, for example, Fass, Paula S. (2006) ‘The Memoir Problem,’ Reviews in American History 34:(1), pp: 107-123.

24 particularly important source for investigating individual agency, as they can shed light on how this agency is understood by the memoirist.

Similarly, diaries are an indispensable source of insider accounts of events and actions.

The fact that they are written at the time of events reduces the risk of retrospective memory flaws, but their use can still be problematic. Some writers, especially the most renowned, anticipated the publication of their diaries either in their lifetime or posthumously. This could influence the way they portrayed events or themselves and their actions. Additionally, what is supposed to be private, sincere and personal can be affected by the existing reality, by the authors’ political views, and by their attempt to influence their own self-representation.30 Especially under the restrictive communist regime, self-censorship could have played a part in personal writings. However, diaries provide a vital source of alternative representations of events and actions when compared to other sources, especially those produced for the use of regime-controlled institutions.

The wide range of materials used in this thesis - secondary sources, memoirs and diaries, official documents pertaining to the Union’s functioning, and top-down cultural directives - make it possible to draw conclusions regarding levels of agency within the Union and levels of control exerted over its works, with the nuanced acknowledgment of the complex interdependencies between the Party-state agenda and the aims of Union members.

30 Please see, for example, Hellbeck, Jochen (2004) ‘The Diary between the Literature and History: A historian’s critical response’, The Russian Review (63), pp: 621-629.

Aims of the Study

This study is original as it focuses on the least researched period of the relationship between the communist authorities and the Polish Writers’ Union. It aims to fill the gap in existing research relating to the politics of culture between 1956 and 1970 and to contribute to the general understanding of the politics of culture in the specific context of changing cultural policies under Gomułka.

The project provides a detailed analysis of the specificity and fluctuating relationship between literati and the Party-state during the Gomułka period. Furthermore, it demonstrates that the relationship between the regime and literary circles was, at least to some extent, symbiotic and, at times, mutually accommodating. It highlights and analyses various aspects of the relations between power and culture, demonstrating how multifaceted, complex and intertwined it was between 1956 and

1970. Additionally, the thesis demonstrates that despite the restrictive political system and the Party-state’s aim of exerting complete control over literary production, the

Union and its individual members had some level of agency and were able to affect the existing situation, obtain greater benefits, expand their agency and directly or indirectly contribute to political change. The thesis also evaluates the levels of control over the Union and concludes that the Party-state often struggled to exert greater levels of control not only over the Union but even over its own tool of control, the

Primary Party Organisation. The reduction in the regime’s control and the increasing level of the writers’ agency had considerable repercussions in post-Gomułka Poland.

Continued protests, the emergence of an oppositional faction and demands for free

26 speech in the 1960s, however indirectly, influenced later changes in the censorship system, the emergence of the Solidarność movement and political change in Poland.

This thesis also provides an English-language study which has to date been virtually absent from scholarly literature on the subject, and offers an alternative to some

Polish-language studies which offer only a one-dimensional view on the functioning of the communist regime. Lastly, this thesis indicates possible new areas for analysis concerning the complex issue of communist rule, as discussion in the Conclusions.

Structure of the Thesis

The thesis has the following structure. Chapter One offers the history and the overall profile of the Polish Writers’ Union, focusing on the legal framework affecting the

Union’s activities, and the formal influence of the Party-state on its day-to-day functioning at different stages of Party-state hegemony over the cultural sphere. It begins with an examination of the role of high-ranking Union officials with close ties to the governing structures in the decision-making processes within the Union, especially the functioning of the Executive Board of the ZLP. This chapter then offers a comparative analysis of Union statutes, tracing any changes to these documents and analysing the political context in which each statute was ratified. By examining the formal means by which the regime attempted to exercise control in the pre and post-

Thaw periods, this chapter demonstrates alterations to the extent of the authorities’ implementation of top-down directives. It thus demonstrates the importance of statutes for the Union and the regime, as well as drawing conclusions regarding the level of Union agency, as reflected in the extent to which ZLP members were able to shape the content of these crucial documents.

While the first chapter analyses direct, formal chains of command between the authorities and the Union and within the Union itself, Chapter Two shifts the focus to indirect ways in which the authorities attempted to control writers, and how the writers could use these indirect control mechanisms to their own advantage.

Specifically, Chapter Two investigates the ways in which the Party-state used the system of benefits and privileges to exert control over the Union and its members. It then evaluates the extent to which rank-and-file members of the ZLP could express their discontent with the existing system of benefits. First, benefits and privileges were used to entice writers to support the Party-state agenda. Indeed, available documents reveal how ZLP’s financial demands were used by the authorities as bargaining chips during times of upheavals. Secondly, the chapter also demonstrates that access to privileges and benefits among writers was highly unequal, which led to a considerable discontent among lower-echelon Union members, and the Union attempted to address these feelings of inequality. Most importantly, this chapter examines official and unofficial channels used by the most prominent writers to manipulate the system of benefits and privileges for their own advantage as well as aiding rank-and-file members of the Union.

Chapter Three explores the issue of agency amongst prominent cultural figures under communist rule by offering a comparative analysis of the two Union presidencies during the Gumułka period. It evaluates the ability of the two Presidents to achieve the goals they formulated as priorities at the beginning of their terms. While acknowledging the different political contexts of their respective presidential terms, the chapter focuses on the influence the Presidents’ individual approaches had on the

28 atmosphere in the Union, the prioritisation of certain Union demands, and the relationship between the ZLP and the authorities.

As censorship was the key tool the communist regime used to control the literary sphere, and was hence the most contentious issue for writers; Chapter Four is devoted to this topic. Studying the interaction between the Union and its individual members on the subject of censorship on the one hand, and the relevant Party-state institutions on the other, reveals the limits of agency amongst the Polish literati. This chapter argues that despite the restrictive political system and the Party-state’s monopoly over the publishing sector, the regime at times struggled to exert control over both the literary output and Union members. It concludes that the most prominent literary figures could count on a degree of leniency from the authorities, even during times of protest against the regime’s politics of culture. However, it has to be acknowledged that the regime used repression and punishment as a means of bringing writers back in line. Thus the relationship between power and culture was fluctuating and was based on mutual interdependence and reactions to actions on both sides of the conflict. This chapter contends that, at times, especially during major protests, the Party-state was not willing or was simply unable to exert greater control over literary circles. This indicates that the ZLP enjoyed a notable level of agency.

Chapter Five builds on the analysis provided in the previous chapter, examining the level of control exerted by the authorities over its own tool for controlling the Writers’

Union, namely the Primary Party Organisation. Firstly, this chapter evaluates the extent to which the Primary Party Organisation was a useful tool of control over the

Union and the way it functioned. It then explores the extent to which the Party-state

29 could fully rely on the Primary Party Organisation to advance its agenda and follow its directives, especially in times of protest against the regime’s politics of censorship. The chapter argues that, in theory, the Primary Party Organisation was a useful tool of control, particularly during the Stalin period, when additional repressive mechanisms were in place. However, post-1956, when there was no longer a direct threat to people’s lives, the Primary Party Organisation started to behave more like a creative union itself rather than part of the vertical structure designed to exert the Party-state's control over the Union. This diminished level of control over the Primary Party

Organisation was especially visible during times of protest.

Chapter 1: The Institutional Profile of the Union of Polish Writers

Introduction

This chapter offers an overview of the history of the Union of Polish Writers (Związek

Literatów Polskich - ZLP). It considers how the communist regime envisaged the role of writers within the new political system that was established in Poland in the aftermath of the Second World War. It analyses the setting within which the various actions of the Union and individual writers, to be discussed in more detail in subsequent chapters, took place. It also offers a general discussion of the main mechanisms used by the Party-state to exert control over the Union, which are also analysed in more detail throughout the thesis. Particular attention is paid to the

Union’s Statutes, which outlined specific legal arrangements for ‘managing’ writers as a professional group after the communist takeover. The Statutes outlined the organisation of the governing structures of the Writers’ Union under the new regime, thus setting out the legal framework for the functioning of the Union. As well as analysing the formal arrangements, the chapter also explores unofficial means of exerting control over the Union through political influence over the Congress proceedings. This will be carried out by means of an analysis of Congress debates regarding Statute changes, as well as an investigation of changes to the membership of the highest decision-making Union structures. In any political system there are differences between laws and regulations on the one hand, and actual practices on the other. This is particularly true in authoritarian systems such as those which existed in

Eastern Europe in the communist era. These differences will be examined throughout the thesis. At the same time, legal arrangements, even if they are not always closely

31 followed, highlight the broad framework within which people and institutions function.

Accordingly, any analysis of actual practices has to start with a consideration of these arrangements.

Historical Setting

Towards the end of the Second World War, the Soviet Union began a systematic takeover of the governing structures of Poland. Between 1944 and 1947 the

Sovietisation of Poland was accomplished by political terror and by the presence of

Soviet military and security forces.31 At the same time, steps were taken to assure

Soviet influence in the army, politics, education and the cultural sphere. This ‘soft power’, or non-violent means of persuasion, was used to entice Poles into cooperating with the Soviet authorities and joining newly created institutions and organisations. In this way the Soviet leadership aimed to ensure a wide level of support for Poland’s new political regime. Before any analysis can take place, it is necessary to remark on the basic differences between the Russian and Polish experiences of communism with regards to the politics of culture and to explain how Soviet solutions were implemented in Poland. What separates these experiences is the time and the way communists came to power in respective countries. These differences influenced the way the politics of culture developed and the way it affected cultural production. The

Russian revolution of 1917 resulted in communists rule in Russia. However, it was in the late 1930s when the politics of culture and strict regulations regarding cultural production, domestic and foreign, were firmly established. The first Soviet Writers’

31 Babiracki, Patryk (2015) Soviet Soft Power in Poland: Culture and the making of Stalin’s new empire, 1943-1957, Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, p: 52.

Congress in 1934 laid foundations for the strict control of literature and imposed

Socialist Realism as the permitted direction in arts.32 At this congress, Maxim Gorky, a prominent Russian writer, outlined directives of the new literary method. Henceforth,

‘writers were to become ‘the engineers of the souls’ who would construct ‘a new life’, in the process of ‘changing the world’’.33 During post-revolutionary period of the 1920s and 1930s, until 1937, there ‘was little regulation of foreign literary imports and little consistency in their censorship’.34 In Poland, historically and politically, the situation was different. The communist party seized power in Poland in 1944 and imposed the system of strict censorship in 1946. One of the most important and influential events was the creation of the Main Office for Control of Press, Publications and

Performances (Główny Urząd Kontroli Prasy, Publikacji i Widowisk-GUKPPiW) which had control over all cultural production in the country, thus ensuring that cultural production did not oppose communist rhetoric. This institution of censorship, which had been unofficially functioning since 1945, was established by the National Council of the Homeland (Krajowa Rada Narodowa-KRN) in a decree from 1946 and retained its function throughout the existence of the Polish People’s Republic.35 The importance of putting in place a system of censorship cannot be underestimated. This very short document gave censorship an almost unlimited power to control any type of cultural production, domestic or foreign. Censorship, therefore, affected many spheres of cultural life in Poland.

32 Jansen, Sue Curry (1988) Censorship: The knot that binds power and knowledge, Oxford: Oxford University Press, p: 109. 33 Ibid. 34 Safiullina, Nely and Rachel Platonov (2012) 'Literary Translation and Soviet Cultural Politics in the 1930s: the role of the journal Internacional'naja literatura', Russian Literature 72(2): 245. 35 KRN’s 1946 Decree creating Główny Urząd Kontroli Prasy, Publikacji i Widowisk [the Main Office for Control of Press, Publications and Performances], in Dziennik Ustaw [Collection of Legal Acts], No. 34; position 210.

Due to the fact that the Soviet Union had already prepared political, cultural and social strategies of politics, it was possible to implement them in Poland almost immediately.

Control over cultural production was established very early after consolidation of power by the communists, thus depriving Polish cultural circles of the chance to undergo a process similar to the one in Russia, where different fractions struggled for dominance. This difference in historical and political contexts meant that, in the initial years of the functioning of the regime, there was some plurality of opinion and style in

Russia. However, in Poland, Socialist Realism became the only allowed artistic method as early as 1950.

The year 1944 is an important turning point as it marks the seizure of power by the

Communists in Poland. By 1947 the Polish Workers’ Party (Polska Partia Robotnicza-

PPR) has won a parliamentary election and started to work on the permanent constitution.36 Temporarily, Poland was functioning under an act called the Little

Constitution. The Little Constitution contained a Declaration of Citizenship Rights which proclaimed such rights as the freedom of press, the spoken word and manifestations and gatherings.37 The text of the Declaration suggests that the political system in Poland in 1947 was similar to the pre-war system. The facade of seemingly democratic system aided legitimisation of the new order. There were, however, many

36 Zaremba, Marcin (2001) Komunizm, legitymizacja, nacjonalizm [Communism, Legitimisation, Nationalism], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo TRIO. 37 Deklaracja Sejmu Ustawodawczego z dnia 22 lutego 1947 r. w przedmiocie realizacji praw i wolności obywatelskich [Declaration of Citizens’ Rights and Freedoms from 22 February 1947], https://bs.sejm.gov.pl/F?func=find-b&request=000027375&find_code=SYS&local_base=ARS01 [last accessed 04 October 2015].

34 institutions and organisation which indicated that political and social life of Polish society is about to change.

In the early years of Soviet influence, Polish organisations and press outlets were created which, in theory, demonstrated Soviet respect for Polish history, traditions and culture, and so helped to legitimise the new regime as well as serving as a tool of communist propaganda.38 By the time of the autumn elections of 1947, the takeover was well established. This marked the official beginning of the oppressive Stalinist period in Polish politics and cultural life.

After Stalin’s death in 1953, the situation in the Soviet bloc gradually began to change.

As early as 1954, Soviet writer Ilya Ehrenburg published his book The Thaw which lent its name to the period of relaxation of political control across the bloc, including

Poland. However, the real turning point was the speech given by the new Soviet Party leader, Nikita Khrushchev, in early 1956, On the Cult of Personality and Its

Consequences [О Kульте Личности и его Последствиях].39 This speech, which revealed many of Stalin’s atrocities, constituted a significant critique of political developments in the Soviet Union in the 1930s and the 1940s, and served as the spark which lit up Polish society during the course of that year. Soon after the content of this speech was disseminated around the world, the long-term Polish leader, Bolesław

Bierut, who was a symbol of Stalinism in Poland, died in Moscow. Khrushchev’s critical stance on the cult of personality made it possible to publicly criticise the terror of the

38Ibid, p: 18. 39 Rokicki, Konrad (2011), Literaci: Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956-1970 [Writers: Relations between writers and communist authorities in the years 1956-1970], Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Badawczy, p: 98.

Stalin period. Yet since the regime retained its monopoly over the publishing sector, there were limits to the extent of criticism which could be expressed. Nonetheless, the relaxation of restrictions, and the removal of the direct threat to critics’ lives across the whole Soviet bloc, had significant repercussions for Poland.

The autumn of the year 1956 became known as the Polish October. This was when

Władysław Gomułka came to power as the First Secretary of the Polish United

Workers’ Party (Polska Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza - PZPR).40 Gomułka was able to gain mass public support by holding political views which were often unacceptable to

Moscow. As early as 1944, he became known to communist officials as an opponent of the line established by the Stalinist regime. He spoke out against repression and for the need to gain public support for the new political system. He argued that establishing a new political system within the Soviet bloc, under these different historical conditions, required different tactics to gain public support for the new regime. What was known in Poland as ‘the Polish road to socialism’ was perceived by some Party officials as ‘oppositional (to the Moscow-line of politics) and generally negated any road to socialism’.41 Accordingly, Gomułka was perceived as a

‘reformist’, which was unacceptable to the then communist regime, and he was arrested and jailed in 1951. His release in 1954 was a consequence of the changing political situation in the Soviet bloc which began after Stalin’s death. In the wake of his release, Gomułka’s position was strong enough to enable him to insist on certain conditions during negotiations with the regime regarding his return to the political

40 PZPR was created in 1948 by merging the Polish Workers’ Party and the Polish Socialist Party. 41 Morawski, Jerzy (1956) ‘Nauki XX zjazdu’ [The Teachings of the XX Congress], Nowe Drogi [New Roads], (3): p 30.

36 scene.42 While the Thaw was definitely felt and embraced by the intelligentsia, the new political situation had mass repercussions among other strata of society. The events of

June 1956 strengthened Gomułka’s position even further. Workers in Poznań’s factories, dissatisfied with their financial and working conditions, and after negotiations with the regime to advance their livelihood demands failed, initiated protests.43 The situation quickly escalated when the regime resorted to military force to disperse the protesters. The numbers are not confirmed, but according to Party- state documents, at least 74 people were killed and hundreds were wounded.44 The regime’s actions, combined with the manipulation of press coverage of the events in

Poznań for propaganda purposes, resulted in growing support for the ‘reformist’

Gomułka and his approach to the political future of Poland, thus contributing to his success in taking the post of First Secretary.

As Gomułka came to power on the promise of the ‘Polish road to Socialism’, he became the face of the political changes instigated by the Khrushchev’s speech and gained mass support from various parts of Polish society. Possibly, afraid of destabilising the system, already in 1957, Gomułka started to retract on his electoral promises and the Party-state took a stricter approach to censorship, literature and, especially, the press. It has to be acknowledged that as Gomułka was being elected on the wave of the Thaw to become the new leader of the PZPR, in autumn of 1956,

Europe witnessed crushing of the Hungarian revolt against the Soviet imposed policies.

42 Rokicki (2011), p: 106. 43 Makowski, Edmund (2001) Poznański czerwiec 1956 - pierwszy bunt społeczeństwa w PRL [Poznań’s June 1956 – the first social revolt in the People’s Republic of Poland], Poznań: Wydawnictwo Poznańskie, pp: 20-43. Please see also Machcewicz, Paweł (1993) Poznański czerwiec 1956 [Poznań’s June 1956], Warszawa: Oficyna Wydawnicza Mówią Wieki. 44 Ibid, pp: 165-171.

That was a clear sign that the Thaw was coming to an end and that liberalisation of the rules in no way meant abolishment of the existing political regime. No country of the

Soviet bloc was an exemption.

The Thaw, therefore, was short-lived as the regime was taking steps to regain its former level of control. The Gomułka period witnessed fluctuating cultural policies, the first ever open protest against the regime’s politics of culture, open expression of dissatisfaction in the public forum, and ‘rebellion’ on the part of the Primary Party

Organisation, which was the Party-state tool for controlling the Union.45 The regime’s continued attempts to exert greater levels of control over the cultural sphere directly influenced the relationship between the authorities and the literati. The actions of

Union members and the ZLP’s day-to-day functioning were inextricably linked to the relationship between power and culture at any given time, a situation dating back to the Union’s origins in the 1920s.

The Origins of the Writers’ Union

From the time of its establishment, the Writers’ Union was influenced by changing political and historical settings which shaped its functioning and changed both its statutory aims, and the legal framework of the organisation. The Union was established in May 1920 by a renowned Polish writer, Stefan Żeromski, at the Polish

Writers’ Plenary Congress which took place in Warsaw. The Union’s original name was the Professional Union of Polish Writers (Związek Zawodowy Literatów Polskich – ZZLP) and it focused mainly on professional issues pertaining to the writing vocation. One

45 For details of the first open protest of literati, please see Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [The Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN. Please see also Chapter: Censorship...

38 example of the Union’s activities was the advancement of professional agendas such as the creation of the Authors’ Convention, ratified by the Polish Parliament in 1926, which aimed to protect the rights of creators of all types of art, music and literature.46

The Union ceased its activities during the Second World War due to the Nazi occupation.

In 1944, the gradual communist takeover of the cultural sphere in Poland began. A new centre of cultural life was set up in Lublin, and in the same year the Union was formally reinstated. However, the Union in reality was based on the model of creative unions established in the Soviet Union in the 1930s, including the Union of Soviet

Writers. The first major difference between the pre-war and post-war Polish Writers’

Unions was their governing structures. In the 1920s and 1930s the Union was entirely in the hands of writers, but from the mid-1940s it came under the control of the Polish

Workers’ Party (Polska Partia Robotnicza – PPR) and the communist government. In

1949 the Union’s Statute was ratified under the new political regime, with the structure and organisation of the newly created union mirroring that of the creative unions in the USSR. The new Statute legalised some major changes to the Union’s functioning, including its name and status, which had significant repercussions for the

ZLP.

Initially, after its reactivation in the mid-1940s the Union functioned as a professional union, and for a while it kept its pre-war name. However, from 1949 it was renamed

46 Ustawa z dnia 29 marca 1926 r. o prawie autorskim [An act from 29 March 1926 regarding the authors’ law] in Dziennik Ustaw [Collection of Legal Acts], No. 48; position 286 available on http://dziennikustaw.gov.pl/

39 the Union of Polish Writers (Związek Literatów Polskich-ZLP).47 This name change reflected a change in the organisation’s nature. With the removal of the word

‘professional’, the union became a ‘creative union’. As trade unions were now under strict governmental control, ‘creative unions, in theory, were supposed to retain a certain level of autonomy, commensurate with a freedom usually associated with creative activities. The regime expected this seemingly ‘liberal’ attitude towards creative unions to attract members.

This apparently ‘liberal’ approach was also reiterated in the first section of the 1949

Statute, in which the Union’s aims were outlined as follows: ‘The ZLP unites writers with democratic attitudes, defends the moral, financial and professional interests of its members, and carries responsibility for the tutelage of the literary youth while ensuring the appropriate state and level of modern Polish literature’.48 At first glance, this seems to indicate respect for the democratic values on the regime’s part; this functioned as a tool with which to entice writers to cooperate, and this, in turn, would help to legitimise the regime. However, a reference to morality in this context is not commensurate with the promotion of democratic values. It would seem, instead, to reflect the Soviet regime’s attempt to interfere with people’s ‘moral conduct’, to an extent which would not be usual in democratic societies. It also reflects the tendency of communist governments to consider any manifestations of political dissent to be

‘immoral’, thus justifying a greater level of regime control. This clearly contradicts the promise of creative freedom which members of a creative union could expect. The

47 Rokicki (2011), p: 75. 48 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section I, article 3.

1949 Statute also clearly indicates that, henceforth, the union and its members would have the assigned task of raising new generations of writers according to the top-down directives of what was considered to be ‘appropriate’ literature. Hence the limits on freedom of speech were clearly emphasised. Like all other aspects of Poland’s public life under the new communist order, literature was supposed to contribute to the achievement of the goals of the Party-state, such as fulfilling the six-year plan which had just been adopted.49

During the 1949 Writers’ Congress in Szczecin, the ZLP underwent another major change. One of the most important resolutions of this Congress was the regulation of the legal status of the ZLP. Leon Kruczkowski, a prominent writer with very close ties to the Party-state structures, who was elected President of the Board of the ZLP during the 1949 Congress, finalised this Statute change by registering the new version on 12

August 1949. Hitherto, section I, article 1, stated that ‘this association’s name is the

Professional Union of Polish Writers and it is a member of the Central Commission of the Trade Unions’ (Komisja Centralna Związków Zawodowych-KCZZ).50 The same article asserted that ‘the association’s name is the Union of Polish Writers; the Union is a legal entity’.51

The Union’s new creative status and the fact that it was a legal entity could suggest a significant level of agency and self-rule on behalf of the Union. However, the regime controlled the allocation of funds to the Union as well as the publishing sector, and during Stalin’s Terror, the Union’s governing structures were dominated by loyal Party

49 Tighe, Carl (1999), The Politics of Literature: Poland 1945-1989, Cardiff: University of Wales Press, p: 80. 50 Stenogram, IV Zjazd Literatów Polskich (1949) [Minutes from IV Writers’ Congress], p: 11. 51 Ibid, p: 12.

41 supporters. Accordingly, the level of ZLP agency was very limited, despite the supposedly ‘liberal’ references to creativity and the freedoms associated with it.

It can be argued that the regulation of the legal status of the creative union, and its registration as a legal entity, created a situation whereby

the new writers' union was now tied to the pion (plumb line) of social

organisation, the downward transmission of ideas and directives from the Party

(…). While in theory the ZLP remained apolitical, in practice the Party hoped

that the union could now do no other than interpret the directives of the

Central Committee's Department of Culture, as they were transmitted by the

Ministry of Arts and Culture.52

Despite the regime’s systematic attempts to limit the ZLP’s agency by placing it under the supervision of the appropriate department of the Central Committee which made decisions regarding the politics of culture, it has to be acknowledged that the ZLP as a whole, and its individual members, were not just marionettes of the Party-state. Writers always had some level of agency, through unofficial if not official means. Furthermore, even during the Stalin era, at least some plurality of opinion existed; this, as we will see below, is revealed by examination of the Minutes of Writers’ Congresses. Nonetheless, the authorities’ attempts to control the output of members of the ZLP indicate that in reality the regime saw the ZLP as a channel through which writers would contribute to the advancement of the Party-state agenda. In order to help the authorities achieve this goal, the structure of the ZLP’s administrative control copied the vertical

52 Tighe, Carl (1996), ‘The Polish Writing Profession: 1944-1956’, Contemporary European History (5): 1, p: 87.

42 organisation of the Party structures and those of other creative unions. Thus the union was organised in such a way as to give an impression of self-rule, while in reality it worked to the regime’s advantage.

Governing Structures of the Writers’ Union

The organisation of administrative control within the Union was also outlined in the

1949 Statute. Despite minor statutory changes, this same structure of governing the

ZLP remained unchanged throughout the Gomułka period.

According to the Statute, the highest decision-making body was the Annual Writers’

Congress.53 While giving an impression of self-rule, in practice this arrangement copied the organisation within the ruling Party itself. The Party Congress was also supposed to be the highest decision-making body, but in reality it was the Politburo rather than the Congress which acted as the decision-making centre. In relation to the

Writers’ Union, while the façade of a democratic arrangement appeared on paper, the

Party-state envisaged that the Executive Board (Zarząd Główny Związku Literatów

Polskich- ZG ZLP) of the Union would hold the dominant position. However, the arrangements in relation to the Party, which marginalised Party Congresses and invested decision-making power in the Politburo, were easier to maintain than arrangements in relation to the Writers’ Union. This is because Party members were explicitly subjected to party discipline, the rules of which were well developed. Writers were not subject to the same explicit set of disciplinary regulations and so it was more

53 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section IV, article 12.

43 possible to turn Writers’ Congress into forums for the kind of discussions that would be impossible at Party Congresses.

The Writers’ Congress usually voted for resolutions supporting Party-line policies, especially with regards to international politics, such as the USA’s war in Vietnam. Thus it could be assumed that it had a purely symbolic role. However, even during the Stalin era there was some plurality of opinion and post-1956, the Union became the main forum for an exchange of different views. The regime was inconsistent with its rules and regulations, at times allowing prominent writers, as well as rank-and-file members, to speak publicly against cultural policies such as censorship without any, or any serious, consequences. Accordingly, the congresses were often scenes of heated political debate. These debates shaped the attitudes of Union members and were a channel for the radicalisation of oppositional writers.

This complexity notwithstanding, the Party-state systematically attempted to invest decision-making power in the Union’s Executive Board. The Statute outlined that in between Congresses the Union’s functioning was to be managed by other governing bodies. The Executive Board, which was to meet regularly, was held responsible for the

Union’s day-to-day functioning, such as managing funds, dispensing social aid to members, and organising Congresses.54 The Admissions Committee (Komisja

Kwalifikacyjna) dealt with prospective Union members and ensured that they fulfilled the statutory conditions of Union membership.55 The Review Committee (Komisja

Rewizyjna) oversaw the Union’s expenditure, ensured that Union actions complied

54 Ibid, section IV, articles 17-18. 55 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1966) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section VI, article 26.

44 with the Statute and oversaw the stepping down of members of the previous Executive

Board before new elections took place.56 The task of the Peer Tribunal (Sąd Koleżeński) was to resolve issues between writers, be they professional or personal, and provide a ruling in the case of writers who were considered to have disgraced the Union or the writing profession. These included those who had expressed political dissent.57

Regional Branches copied governing structures from the Union’s hierarchical system of functioning. Union’s expansion was stipulated in the 1949 Statute. In towns with at least 10 Union members it was possible to establish a Regional Branch of the Union. If the number of writers in the region was smaller, the Union could create a Literary Club

(Klub Literacki) which could be visited by writers who were not members of the Union or still waiting for their membership to be approved by the Admissions Committee of the Union.58

Duties of the Executive Board of the Regional Branch were similar to the ones of the

Union’s Executive Board and were stipulated in the Statute. The Board was responsible for establishing Literary Clubs, publishing (with the approval of the Union’s Executive

Board), dispensing financial help for Branch members as well as presenting reports from the Branch’s functioning at Annual Congresses. Another vital role of Regional

Branches was cooperation with artistic, cultural and educational regional institutions in order to disseminate literary output.59

56 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section VII, article 23. 57 Ibid, article 26, subsections a)-c). 58 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section VI, article 21. 59 Ibid, section VI, article 20, subsections a)-g).

As the Union structure was based on the Soviet model, the Party-state expected the

Executive Board to hold the real decision-making power within the Union.60 This was supposed to help the regime to influence the work of the ZLP. The Board had seven to nine members, each serving for an initial term of one year, but this could be renewed without any time restrictions.61 The Union’s legal framework was set up during the Stalin era when the Party-state had almost unlimited power to place its own people in important posts. Thus Party loyalists held the majority of seats in the Union structures despite the fact that Party members constituted a small fraction of the overall Union membership.62

In order to ensure successful control over the Union and its Board, the authorities relied on the Primary Party Organisation (Podstawowa Organizacja Partyjna-POP). The role of the Primary Party Organisation was not mentioned in the Statute as it was a

Party-state-controlled organisation whose main aim was to exert influence over the

Union’s functioning and to help the regime advance its agenda. The POP membership

60 To briefly summarise the Union’s governing structures: According to the first post-war Union Statute from 1949 ratified under the new political system the structure of the Union was based on Soviet solutions to governing creative unions. The main governing body, at least in theory, was the Annual Writers’ Congress making decisions and voting through resolutions which then applied to all regional branches. The next in stratified hierarchy was the Executive Board responsible for Union’s day-to-day functioning and contacts with the representatives of the Party-state. Directly under the Executive Board there were three equal to each other in hierarchy parts of the Union structure: the Review Committee, the Peer Tribunal and the Admissions Committee. The governing structures of Regional Branches copied the system of governing the Union with the exception of the Admissions Committee whose role was centralised as the Committee was responsible for admitting members to all Regional Branches. All of the above described governing bodies existed from the beginning of Union’s post-war functioning and remained the same throughout the existence of the regime. 61 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], article 15. 62 Party-members made up 30% of membership in the biggest Warsaw Branch in 1953. The numbers in the Gomułka period were significantly lower and had a tendency to decline. In 1958 there were 130 Party members and almost 800 ZLP members. In 1960, for 826 ZLP members only 112 belong to the Party structures.

46 was exclusively reserved for Party-members who were also writers with ZLP membership.

The regime’s tactical approach was successful when the additional highly repressive system was in place. The POP and the Union were under a high level of control and were generally obedient during the Stalin era. However, in the changing political context of the Thaw, the Board and its membership were of vital importance not only to the authorities but also to the writers, as power shifted from loyal Party supporters to writers with high public profiles who could, if only occasionally, speak out publicly against the regime’s politics of culture.

This was possible due not only to the more liberal political context, but also to the election process within the Union. The fact that elections took place under the communist regime is not surprising; nor is it surprising that the Party-state would always aim to ensure that its approved candidates would win. However, the situation which existed within the Writers’ Union was rare, and pertained only to a few cultural and academic bodies such as the creative unions and the Academy of Sciences.

Delegates to the Congress were chosen from all Regional Branches in a genuinely secret ballot, with multiple candidates.63 Under the communist regime, this voting arrangement only took place in the above-mentioned organisations. Despite this apparently lenient approach to the control of Union members, members of small

Regional Branches were under much greater political pressure than members of the

Warsaw branch, which constituted more than a half of all Union membership. It might

63 Stenogram, XVII Zjazd Literatów Polskich (1969) [Minutes from XVII Writers’ Congress], p: 287.

47 be expected that delegates from Regional Branches were more inclined to vote at the

Congress according to Party-state directives. This was due to the fact that even a suspicion of disobedience could cause serious consequences, as Presidents of Regional

Branches were often closely connected to the Party structures. They would also be placed in charge of regional journals and publishing houses, thus being in a position to limit other writers’ earning opportunities as a form of punishment for stepping out of line. In addition, the list of candidates for delegates from each Regional Branch was prepared by the Regional Branch’s Board and its POP. Thus, despite voting in a secret ballot, it was difficult for members to vote against Party-state directives in a small branch which sometimes had as few as 10 members. The fear of their handwriting being recognised or having to face a kind of interrogation after the vote was often enough to persuade them to submit to the authorities’ goal of achieving obedience to top-down directives. Notwithstanding this unofficial pressure, members of Regional

Branches often expressed their dissatisfaction with the regime’s politics of culture at congresses.64 After delegates had been chosen, it was still more difficult to control them when they participated in Congress elections, particularly on those occasions when voting was by secret ballot rather than by show of hands. This gave writers unusual power within the communist system to occasionally rebel and defeat candidates on whose election the party-state insisted.

The first type of voting pertained to the role of delegates at the Plenary Writers’

Congress in permitting the stepping down of members of the old Executive Board by a show of hands. Similarly, resolutions and Statute changes were voted through in an

64 For more details please see Chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship

48 open vote in which everyone could see who voted and how. However, voting against

Party-state wishes on such matters did not usually have serious consequences for writers, as they did not have to fear losing their livelihoods. The most important role of the Congress, both for the regime and Union members, was the election of all Union governing bodies, i.e. the Peer Tribunal, Admissions Committee, Review Committee and Executive Board, as well as the Union’s President. The Board had the power to accept and remove members, and the responsibility for dispensing Union funds, making other Union administrative structures less vital for the functioning of the

Union. Accordingly, attention was paid primarily to the choice of the Board members and the President, who were elected through secret ballot.

In 1952, the terms of the Board and Presidency were extended to three years.65 The

Plenary Congress, however, was to be organised annually, as, according to statutory rules, the Board had to report on its activities and delegates had to set out the agenda for the periods between Congresses. It also gave Union members the opportunity to participate in public debate, exchange opinions, and be part of the professional and social events which took place during the Congresses.

The authorities used ZLP’s legal framework to tighten control over the Congresses in

1969. The 1960s had witnessed a somewhat volatile relationship between cultural figures and the authorities, when oppositional writers as well as POP members protested against the regime’s politics of culture. Accordingly, the regime took steps to limit public debate by enshrining in the Statute that the Congress was to take place

65 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1952) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section IV, article 12.

49 every three years.66 A Statute change of such magnitude was only possible because the literary circles were decimated and defeated by an anti-Semitic campaign initiated by the regime, which crushed protests against censorship in 1968.67

Despite the regime’s attempts to tighten control over the Union through changes to its legal framework, the Polish Writers’ Union Statute allowed for an unusual level of agency on behalf of its members. This is due to two factors. Firstly, there was a multi- candidate election process to the governing organs of the ZLP. Secondly, Union members voted for the President and Board members in a secret ballot. 68 The list of candidates was usually created through cooperation between the Board and the POP, and so consisted of names approved by the Party-state structures. However, this approved list could be expanded by adding names on the day of the elections.69

Furthermore, the secret ballot allowed Union members to vote freely, thus encouraging the Board and POP to find candidates who were likely to be acceptable to the majority of Union members.

Notwithstanding the regime’s attempts to ensure that Party-approved people occupied the highest positions within the Union, the authorities permitted the Union’s

Statute to allow a certain level of ZLP agency with regards to the elections. The vertical structure of power based on the Soviet model of creative unions, the ZLP’s financial dependency on state’s funding and the existence of the POP, could, at least in theory,

66 Rokicki, p: 495. 67 For more details please see Chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship. 68 The number of elected Board members varied in each Statute due to the growing overall numbers in the Union. As membership expanded, the Board’s responsibilities demanded larger number of members. In 1949, the Board consisted of seven to nine elected members. In 1966, it was 20 elected members and five elected deputies as well as Presidents of Regional Branches. 69 Every delegate at the ZLP Congress had the right to propose another candidate.

50 allow for the regime to exert complete control over the Union. This approach was most successful when combined with the repressive system of the Stalin era. However, in the post-Thaw reality, when the authorities’ approach to the literati was, to say the least, inconsistent, writers could exercise their statutory rights and attempt to push the boundaries of what was permitted in an unwritten set of rules of behaviour. Thus the regime’s goal of exerting ever greater levels of control was not as successful as could have been expected under the communist regime.

However, even in the Gomułka period, the authorities were not limited to controlling the Union through its legal framework and official channels. Since the state controlled the publishing sector and thus writers’ earning opportunities, it could influence the

Union’s functioning through the unofficial means of putting pressure on the ZLP members.

Political Influence on the ZLP

The success of unofficial means of control over the Union’s functioning was inextricably linked to the political context of the time. Between 1949 and 1970 the

Union had three Presidents, each of whom held the post in very different political circumstances. Thus the election of Presidents, as well as the choice of members of the

Executive Board, largely depended on the fluctuating state of the politics of culture.

This, in turn, means that the regime’s success in controlling the Union through unofficial channels fluctuated in accordance with political developments at the time.

As culture was a tool both for social engineering and for legitimising power, it was inevitably subject to systematic ideological intervention by the communist authorities.

Furthermore, a special role was assigned to cultural figures, especially writers, in shaping people’s worldview, and in this way contributing to the building of a new socialist society. This explains why the authorities applied as much control as possible over the functioning of the ZLP. Stefan Kisielewski, a prominent writer, observed in his memoirs: ‘people of all professions could work normally, apart from writers - this profession was considered to be equivalent to state politics’.70 This is an indication of how writers themselves understood the pressure of their ‘special position and role’.

The claim that all other professions were able to ‘work normally’ within the communist regime is, of course, questionable. Yet it is undeniable that the literati did have a special role. The importance of the writers’ profession for the Party-state agenda was enshrined in the Statute and reflected in the fact that the authorities attempted to control elections for the highest post in the Union. Between 1949 and 1970, the authorities attempted to use their hegemonic position to influence the ZLP’s framework by ensuring that writers with close ties to the Party governing structures held the majority of positions in the ZLP’s governing structures.

The first of the Union leaders, Leon Kruczkowski, was elected during the Writers’

Congress in Szczecin in 1949.71 Kruczkowski had joined the Party during the war.72 By

1949 he was a well-established writer, while at the same time enjoying close ties to the governing Party structures. During his presidency he simultaneously held prominent political posts, including Minister of Culture and Arts, and President of the

Committee which regulated cultural cooperation with foreign countries (Komitet

70 Kisielewski, Stefan (2001) Dzienniki [Diaries], Warszawa: ISKRY, p: 152. 71 For details please see: Stenogram, IV Zjazd Literatów Polskich (1949) [Minutes from IV Writers’ Congress], pp: 14-15. 72 Ibid, p: 67.

Współpracy Kulturalnej z Zagranicą). He held his presidential post until 1956 and unsurprisingly, during this period the Board was dominated by writers loyal to the

Party-state. The assumption is that the more prominent the figure (be it in a literary sense, or because he held important positions within the Party structures, or both), the more pressure he/she could exert over the proceedings of the ZG’s plenary meetings, as well as during Congresses of the Writers’ Union.

Between 1949 and 1956, the Executive Board included such names as Kazimierz Wyka

(member of Parliament and president of the Polish-Soviet Friendship Society -

Towarzystwo Przyjaźni Polsko-Radzieckiej), Jerzy Putrament (member of Parliament,

NKVD agent and diplomat) and Stefan Żółkiewski (member of Parliament and of the

State National Council - Krajowa Rada Narodowa).73 These Board members were all affiliated with the Polish United Workers’ Party cell. During Kruczkowski’s presidency, the Board also included prominent left-wing writers such as Tadeusz Borowski, Julian

Tuwim, Mieczysław Jastrun, Adam Ważyk and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz.74 Borowski had joined the Party immediately following the war, while Tuwim and Iwaszkiewicz, a future ZLP President, made it clear that although they would not become Party members, they were prepared to cooperate with the regime.75

The most loyal and highly placed writers such as Kruczkowski, Putrament and

Żółkiewski were supported by left-wing writers and could influence the decision- making process through their speeches or even just their presence. Moreover, as

73 Woźniakowski, Krzysztof (1986) ‘Na ostrym zakręcie’ [The Sharp Turn], Rocznik Komisji Historycznoliterackiej [Annual Volume of Historical and Literary Committee], XXIII, p: 188. The NKVD was the Soviet Union’s Secret Police. For details of Putrament’s rise to power within the governing structures of the Party, including his ties to the NKVD, see Babiracki, pp: 48-49. 74 Tighe, (1999), p: 67. 75 Ibid.

53 outlined by the Statutes, the ZG of the ZLP held decision-making power and had a wide range of responsibilities, making it the most vital body in the functioning of the Union.

Thus, from the start, writers who held important posts within the Party-state structures were involved in policy making in the Writers’ Union.

The impact which writers within the ZG of the ZLP, who had political ties to the Party- state, had on the outcome of the ZLP’s work is revealed through an examination of the

Minutes from the VI Writers’ Congress which took place in June 1954. The debate regarding Statute changes during the proceedings of the Congress revolved around one main issue. The plenum debated the remit of the Admissions Committee, which was to provide advice to the Board with regards to the quality of candidates’ literary works and, if necessary, block the Board’s decision.76 Putrament’s was the most audible voice in the room, attempting to limit any interference in or supervision of the

Board’s functioning. The Congress took place soon after Stalin’s death, and so

Putrament’s speech was a sufficiently powerful tool with which to make the majority of voting delegates comply with the position preferred by the regime and to allow the

Admissions Committee a purely advisory role. Yet, significantly, there were still occasional oppositional voices. For example, Stanisław Ryszard Dobrowolski, a member of the ZLP, stated that it looked as if ‘from now on, the Board of the Union will not be supervised at all’.77 This episode clearly exemplifies the influence of high ranking figures with close ties to the Party-state governing structures on the functioning of the

Union. Such regime-endorsed official and unofficial means of exerting control over the

Union’s day-to-day activities seems to have been successful in the pre-Thaw period.

76 Stenogram, VI Zjazd Literatów Polskich (1954) [Minutes from VI Writers’ Congress], p: 81. 77 Ibid, p: 83.

However in 1956, the situation changed significantly, especially, with regard to the

Board’s membership.

Kruczkowski’s presidency of the ZLP came to an end during the VII Writers’ Congress which took place between 29 November and 2 December 1956. The ZLP elected a new leader, Antoni Słonimski, who was an eager supporter of liberal changes. Słonimski’s election was possible due to the considerably relaxed political constraints in Poland at that time. In order to analyse political interference within the ZLP during Słonimski’s presidency, it is necessary to consider the political backdrop which made possible the election of a writer with liberal credentials to the presidency, as well as events in the

Soviet bloc which were debated at the 1956 Congress.

Notwithstanding the fact that this was one of the most liberal periods during communist rule in Poland, it is important to note that the first Writers’ Congress after

Gomułka came to power took place soon after the Soviet Army invaded Hungary on 4

November 1956. This was Moscow’s response to the developments in Hungary, where mass popular demonstrations, instigated by students, led to calls demanding freedom of speech, liberalisation of politics, and even for Hungary to leave the Warsaw Pact.

These tragic events are echoed in the debates which took place at the 1956 Polish

Writers’ Congress. An examination of the minutes from the Congress suggests three main topics of debate, namely the Hungarian revolution, censorship and Statute changes. As this chapter focuses on official and unofficial means of control, the Statute debate is the best example with which to demonstrate the interference of the authorities in the work of the ZLP.

The third day of the Congress’s proceedings was almost completely dedicated to discussion of the Statute. The changes which were debated included the removal of the Introduction from the Statute ratified in 1955, which was considered by many

Union members to be a document which did little but ‘spout communist slogans’, as some Union members put it.78 Many other sections of the Statute were also altered.

The plenum discussed the publishing rights of the ZLP, and cultural cooperation with foreign countries.79 Structural and organisational changes were also voted through.

This would have been a perfect example of the liberalisation of rules; however, the

Statute of 1956 was never officially registered, which rendered the day-long debate meaningless. Despite the plurality of opinion and the more liberal political framework in the country, the ZLP’s initiative was blocked before it could be implemented. My research has not shed light on which parties were responsible for blocking the Statute registration,80 but it can be proposed, pending confirmation from appropriate sources, that the Polish authorities rejected the new Statute.

Yet despite continuing limitations on what was and was not permitted in the new more liberal political context, the 1956 Congress witnessed an unprecedented shift of power in the governing structures of the ZLP as the Board of the Union became dominated by non-Party members and openly oppositional writers. Minutes from the Congress reveal that in the first elections occurring during the Thaw, the usual rules governing

78 Stenogram, VII Zjazd Literatów Polskich, Dzień III (1956) [Minutes from VII Writers’ Congress, Day III], p: 558. 79 Ibid, pp: 560-567. 80 Most likely, the organ which had the power to block the registration of the Statute was Urząd Spraw Wewnętrzych Stołecznej Rady Narodowej (Internal Affairs Office of the National Council). This, however, is a mere assumption, as this organ was responsible for cooperation with the committee which was preparing Statute changes for the Plenum of Writers’ Congress. Please see: Stenogram XV Zjazd Literatów Polskich (1965) [Minutes from XV Writers’ Congress], p: 64.

56 elections were not followed by the Union. On this one occasion, the list of candidates was not prepared in advance of the Congress. The Congress’s Presiding Officer announced that there would be no suggestions about candidates for the post of the

ZLP’s President, and writers were instructed to confer among themselves and make their own proposals.81 Similarly, the committee responsible for the election process during the Congress did not have a prepared list of candidates for the Board and took suggestions from all interested members to create a list during the proceedings. Thus the final list consisted of 62 names and each delegate had to vote for 22 Board members.82 People with the highest number of votes were to become new Board members. The extraordinary freedom of speech at the 1956 Congress, and an election process free of any obvious interference on the part of the Party-state structures, gave rise to a new type of leadership of the Union. Between 1956 and 1959 the Union’s governing bodies were dominated by writers openly opposing censorship and demanding freedom of speech for the creative professions.

Notwithstanding the more liberal political atmosphere at the time of these Union elections, it soon became obvious that the demands of free speech, liberal politics and the democratisation of life would not be met. Słonimski soon proved to be too liberal for the Party-state governing structures. His demand that there be fundamental change to the very basis of the political system seems to have disturbed the regime, and steps were taken to change the President. In 1959 the authorities took a stricter

81 Stenogram, VII Zjazd Literatów Polskich, Dzień III (1956) [Minutes from VII Writers’ Congress, Day III], p: 425. 82 For the full list of candidates please see: Ibid, pp: 550-552.

57 approach and manoeuvred their trusted supporters into the highest posts in the ZLP.83

Słonimski had no chance of being re-elected, mainly due to growing disapproval on the part of the authorities, but also to the lack of progress on livelihood issues which were a cause of dissatisfaction among Union members.84 After three years of exile from leadership positions in the ZLP, Kruczkowski and Putrament returned to the ZLP’s highest echelons and supported the replacement of Słonimski with another prominent literary figure, Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz.85 Iwaszkiewicz’s ability to strike a compromise, and above all continue negotiations with the authorities, meant that he remained the

ZLP’s President until his death in 1980. This situation seemed to be mutually beneficial for both the authorities and the majority of Union members.86 Despite the regime’s attempts to regain levels of control lost post-1956, the Union still had more agency than many other organisations in Poland, whose leaders would simply be appointed to their posts by the authorities.

The atmosphere and freedom surrounding the elections at the 1956 Congress was a one-time event and the 1960s brought what could be called, a ‘power balance’, with the authorities and literary circles each struggling to achieve dominance in Union structures. The Party-state continued its attempts to influence the functioning of the

Union and gain the upper hand. During the Writers’ Congress in 1965, the debate around the Statute which was ratified in 1966 focused mainly on organisational and structural issues regarding the ZLP. As in 1954, Putrament had a decisive voice on

83 Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia, pp: 74-75. 84 This issue will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 3: Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz at the Helm: Two Presidencies Compared. 85 Tighe (1999), p: 146. 86 Iwaszkiewicz’s presidency is also analysed in more detail in Chapter 3.

58 several matters. To give one example, we will focus on the debate relating to the duties of the Board.

The state-approved proposal presented by a POP member was that ‘the Board should have the right to add new members to its ranks, if the number of its members is not sufficient to perform all statutory duties’.87 Putrament voiced his opinion on this matter several times. Indeed, the main contributors to the debate were Putrament and former President Słonimski. Słonimski made an attempt to convince the audience that ‘the members of the ZLP who were to be added to the ZG, in order to help with the proceedings of various committees, should be trustworthy and approved by the whole of the literary circle’ rather than just by the existing Board members.88

Putrament declared that Słonimski’s proposal was ‘risky and completely pointless’.89

Thus Słonimski’s concern that the Board of the ZLP should include people the Board deemed appropriate, who would aid in the advancement of governmental directives, was ignored. The majority voted for Putrament’s proposal, further strengthening the

Board’s position within the ZLP.

The impact of writers closely connected to the Party-state and holding high posts within the Union structures on the works of the ZLP was clearly evident during

Congress debates. Indeed, the presence of highly placed loyal Party supporters had an influence on the decision-making processes within the Union (which has been outlined in detail in this section).

87 Stenogram, XV Zjazd Literatów Polskich, Dzień II (1965) [Minutes from XV Writers’ Congress, Day II], p: 85. 88 Ibid, p: 86. 89 Ibid, p: 87.

It is particularly interesting that despite restrictions placed on the levels of writers’ agency, there were also unwritten rules pertaining to how far the regime could push cultural figures in a certain direction. The writers found a way to work and live within the regime, which they did not necessary support in the privacy of their homes. As

Polish PEN Chairman Juliusz Żuławski said:

It was complicated. I believe that many Polish communists were afraid of Russia

and some acted in a double way: they wanted to be seen as very good

communists, but at the same time they were also Poles, and they also tried to

preserve what they could of Polish identity. Many Polish communists acted this

way. Double thinking, double acting. Of course they mouthed communist

propaganda, but behind that they tried not to spoil everything.90

Some parts of Żuławski’s comment are debatable, as similar behaviour could be witnessed across the entire Soviet bloc, including the USSR in the 1960s, where some influential cultural figures began to publicly assert their identity as Russians, an identity which was not identical with the dominant Soviet identity and at times overtly contradicted it.91 However, even under these new conditions, most writers worked, lived and created within the existing regime while attempting to improve livelihood and professional conditions through the means available to them. One of the means to improve the financial situation of Union members was to repeatedly elect Iwaszkiewicz as Union leader for over two decades. As discussed in Chapter Three, it seems that his approach satisfied the authorities as he avoided conflicts, and at the same time

90 Tighe (1996), p: 76. 91 On this development, see for example, Brudny, Yitzhak (2000) Reinventing Russia: Russian Nationalism and the Soviet State, 1953-1991, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

60 generally fulfilled Union members’ expectations with regards to advancing the ZLP’s financial agendas.

Despite the Party-state’s continued attempts to control the Union, it also aimed to encourage writers, even those who were non-Party or oppositional, to become part of the ZLP in order to elevate the Union’s status and help to legitimise the regime.92 Thus writers had a special role to play and were offered benefits which were not available to the majority of citizens. Hence just as the authorities attempted to influence the

Union’s functioning through official and unofficial channels, the writers also adopted various means of using the system to their advantage.

Conclusion

The structural changes in the Polish Writers’ Union, and the regime’s promise that cultural and literary life would be revived, were both intended to entice writers into joining the Union and thus cooperating with the regime. The regime’s promise about renewing cultural and literary life was enhanced by its pretence that it respected Polish traditions, history and culture. Prominent Polish writers who joined the Union elevated its status, and this could act as a means of attracting other writers; this, in turn, helped the regime to legitimise the new power. What initially seemed like a ‘liberal’ approach allowed the Party-state to restructure the ZLP so that it resembled other creative

92 The Party-state used various means to legitimise the regime. One of them was the overt use of the ZLP and individual famous writers to give regime credence among wider society. Elevating the Union status is defined here as regime’s attempts to entice writers to join the Union in order to raise its status. Having famous literati in the Union served as a tool of propaganda and was suppose to send a message that the Party-state is supported by wide strata of society, including intelligentsia. With regards to elevating individual writers’ statuses, the regime had all the means necessary as it had monopoly over the publishing. Thus in order to promote a writer the regime would up the volume of their publications and place it in state-owned bookstores as well as give them posts in journals and organisations, give them additional earning and promoting opportunities by organising literary evenings in various work places, among others.

61 unions in the Soviet bloc. Therefore, it can be said that the authorities aimed to exert complete control over the functioning of the Union and to make it a channel for transmitting top-down directives. The legal framework in which the Union functioned, set out in its Statute, created a vertical power structure within the Union. The statutory arrangements for the Union’s organisation, combined with the repressive nature of the Stalin era, allowed the Party-state to gain hegemony. As the Party-state was able to influence the election process and ensure that people approved by the

Party structures held the highest posts within the ZLP, the regime could expect a high level of obedience towards top-down directives. In addition, political pressure applied during ZLP proceedings by high ranking Union officials who had close ties to the governing structures of the Party-state meant that the regime was successful in controlling the Union as long as Stalin was in power in Moscow.

As the situation within the Soviet bloc began to change after Stalin’s death, the situation in the ZLP became less restrictive. The Thaw brought about an unprecedented freedom of expression during the 1956 Congress of the Polish Writers’

Union, and a new approach to elections for the governing bodies of the Union. Even though the statutory regulations were followed, the unwritten rules of conduct pertaining to the preparation of a state-approved list of candidates for Union elections were broken, resulting in a shift of power in the Executive Board of the Union, allowing for a liberal and vocal oppositional writer to take over the presidency. Thus the highest positions within the Union’s governing structures were in the hands of people not approved by the Party-state. The regime’s ability to exert control over the Union’s day- to-day functioning was greatly diminished. Furthermore, since there was no longer a

62 threat to people’s lives if they publicly expressed views critical of the regime, the success of the Party-state’s means of exerting control through unofficial channels was further eroded.

This situation was a cause of dissatisfaction to the regime, and soon steps were taken to regain the lost levels of control. However, a return to the situation which existed before the Thaw was impossible. Now, the regime’s attempts to expand levels of control over the Union and literary production could result in protest against the Party- state cultural policies. The 1960s witnessed the first ever open protest organised by some of the Union members, and such protest continued to the end of the communist period in Poland. The regime’s aim to maintain strict control, and the Union’s attempts to expand its level of agency, shaped the relationship between power and culture in the Gomułka period.

It is worth noting that at least in theory, the regime had the tools to exert far greater control over the Union and its members than it actually did. The structure of creative unions copied from the Soviet model, combined with the existence of the POP and the ability to apply political pressure through unofficial channels, at first glance should have resulted in successful subordination of literary circles to the will of the authorities. However, the reality was more complex. As the Statute debates at the

Congresses demonstrated, the regime was able to influence the functioning of the

Union and extend the power of the Executive Board if it deemed this to be necessary.

Simultaneously, the Party-state struggled to control other aspects of the functioning of the Union, and to curb freedom of expression at Congresses. What sets the Writers’

Union apart from most other organisations under the communist regime was the unusual way in which it conducted elections to the governing structures of the ZLP.

Since the regime had the ability to influence Statute debates, why did it never attempt to change the statutory election process? Why did it continuously allow voting through a secret ballot, multi-candidate elections and the adding of names to the list of candidates already approved by the Party structures? It is possible, especially in the post-Thaw reality, that such interference with the functioning of the Union would have serious consequences. It could have further united Union members in their opposition to the regime’s policies. As literary circles demonstrated their ability to oppose the regime, it is likely that changing the last remnants of ‘democratic elections’ would be unacceptable to Union members. On the other hand, retaining these remnants might have been a way to entice writers into continued cooperation with the regime by remaining in the ZLP. Whatever the reason, Union members attempted to exercise their rights and use whatever level of agency they had to their advantage. As the regime needed writers to advance its own agenda, some level of leniency towards the literary circles was in place, and the writers’ special role was rewarded by statutory access to privileges and benefits system. Just as writers attempted to gain as much as possible within the existing restrictive regime, they also manipulated the system of benefits and privileges whenever possible. This is the issue which will constitute the subject of the next chapter.

Chapter 2: The Polish Writers’ Union: The System of Benefits and Privileges

Introduction

Following a brief outline of the nature of the relationship between the party-state and the Union in the previous chapter, I will now further analyse informal ways in which writers attempted to use the system of benefits and privileges to their own advantage.

My aim is to provide an analysis of the system by which benefits and privileges were dispensed within the structures of the Writers’ Union (Związek Literatów Polskich-ZLP) during the Gomułka era. The chapter will address two vital issues. Firstly, it will investigate the ways in which the system of benefits and privileges was used by the

Party-state to exert control over the Union and its members. Secondly, it will evaluate the extent to which rank-and-file members could voice their discontent with the existing system of benefits and privileges and the privileged position of some Union leaders. Furthermore, it will analyse the level of writers’ agency with regards to manipulating the existing system of benefits and privileges within the restrictive regime, thus shedding more light on the nature of power and culture under the communist regime and challenging the supposed dichotomy between the passive intelligentsia and the repressive regime. This chapter thus traces the informal means of exerting control over the Union, as well as writers’ ability to use these informal means to their own advantage.

Definitions of benefits and privileges depend on such things as the area of research, specific groups of actors, and historical, social and cultural contexts. Within the context of the Polish Writers’ Union as it operated under the communist regime, benefits comprised both non-material and material advantages available only to Union

65 members, such as greater publishing opportunities, promoting a writer, and access to

Writers’ Union retreats, restaurants and other facilities. In turn, privileges are understood to include access to special advantages for those in the higher echelons of the Writers’ Union, such as the President of the Union, members of the Board, and high ranking members with close connections to the Party-state. However, this chapter argues that privileges were also available to renowned authors who had no close ties to the Party and/or put forward views which were in opposition to the politics of the

Party-state.93

Some scholars have a tendency to analyse the relationship between the writers and the Party-state in terms of a simplistic dichotomy.94 Any type of collaboration on the part of writers with the regime is seen as an indication of conformism and a betrayal of their values for financial gain. Arguing against this simplification, Marta Fik offers a more nuanced analysis of writers' attitudes towards the regime, indicating that they ranged from conviction through adaptation, to a belief that there was no possibility of achieving any victory over the Party-state. She argues against the importance of financial gain in decision making processes. Following Fik's argument, this chapter aims to demonstrate that adaptation to the existing reality was not always a sign of conformism or betrayal, and that there were complex reasons for cooperation with the

93 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section III, article 5. Statute stipulates that membership can be obtained by Polish writers such as poets, novelists, short story writers, play-writers, literary critics and translators. It is unsurprising that within a wide range of literary professions, some Union members had differentiating views. These divisions are analysed in more detail in Chapter Five: Primary Party Organisation… 94 Trznadel, Jacek (1990) Hańba domowa [Domestic Disgrace], Lublin: Wydawnictwo Antyk; Stanisław Murzański (1993) Między kompromisem a zdradą. Intelektualiści wobec przemocy [Between a Compromise and Betrayal. Intellectuals’ attitudes towards violence], Warsaw: Volumen; Wiesław Szymański (2007) Uroki dworu. Rzecz o zniewalaniu [Charms of the court. A thing about enslaving], Kraków: Arcana.

66 regime. Furthermore, adaptation to reality did not exclude opposition.95 At times, an ability to adapt to life within the existing system included use of this system to one’s own benefit.

There are very limited sources focusing purely on the issues of benefits and privileges, or taking a wider approach to livelihood issues amongst literary circles in the 1950s and 1960s. Andrzej Siciński offers a unique comparative analysis of survey results from

1929, 1959 and 1964.96 These surveys, conducted amongst Writers’ Union members, provide us with insights about financial and daily life issues pertaining to literary circles at that time. They provide vital data regarding publishing, additional income opportunities, and travel. Oskar Stanisław Czarnik uses Siciński’s data to demonstrate the complexity of the system of benefits and privileges by investigating various reasons for their use by the Party-state.97 Whereas Czarnik focuses mainly on the institutional and organisational side of the system of benefits and its value for the regime, this chapter also aims to demonstrate the complexity of human decisions about who was to receive those benefits. At the same time, this chapter demonstrates different levels of access to benefits and privileges in accordance with the writers’ status and his or her connections to governing structures.

The chapter argues that while the Party-state did aim to exert complete control over the Union, it also made some concessions and, on occasions, demonstrated respect for

95 Fik, Marta (1997) Autorytecie wróć? Szkice o postawach polskich intelektualistów po październiku 1956 [Authority Return? Sketches about the attitudes of Polish intellectuals after the October 1956], Warszawa: Oficyna Wydawnicza Errata. 96 Siciński, Andrzej (1971) Literaci polscy. Przemiany zawodu na tle przemian kultury współczesnej [Polish Writers. Changes of the profession in the context of changes in the contemporary culture], Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy Imienia Ossolińskich. 97 Czarnik, Stanisław Oskar (1993) Między dwoma sierpniami. Polska kultura literacka w latach 1944- 1980 [Between two Augusts. Polish literary culture 1944-1980], Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna.

Polish literary values. This approach to the topic allows us to more fully grasp the relationship between the state’s dispensing of benefits and privileges, the complexity of the attitudes of members of literary circles toward the regime, and the response of rank-and file members to the privileged position of prominent figures.

In order to analyse the various issues pertaining to the use of benefits and privileges, the chapter draws on minutes from the meetings of the Warsaw Branch of the Union, and the debates which took place during ZLP congresses. It also makes use of the dairies of the most prominent figures, personal correspondence, the above-mentioned survey results and the Union’s Bulletin, a periodical published by the Union. The research conducted in the Archive of the Polish Writers’ Union found a lack of vital reports from the Housing and Social Committees, which did not keep minutes of their meetings. Due to the nature of its source base, the chapter does not offer a comprehensive discussion of the system of benefits and privileges which the Polish cultural elites enjoyed, but addresses only those issues which were dealt with in the available material.

The system of benefits and privileges

The Union’s Statute set out writers’ rights to additional income opportunities, travel, social aid and much else. Membership in the ZLP therefore guaranteed access to benefits unavailable to non-members.98 The most important of these advantages were better opportunities to publish, and a higher social status. Given the systemic shortages of goods and services, material benefits were also important. Restaurants

98 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1949) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section II, article 4, points: c, e, g, h, ł, m.

68 and cafes which were available only to Union members offered better food than was available to the general public. Members of the Union also had access to special retreats which were much more comfortable than those available to other people.

Benefits also extended to stipends for travel and research trips. Union members were also able to participate in literary competitions organized by the state or specific journals and publishing houses, during which prizes, which often included a monetary component, were awarded.99

However, within the Union structures, a privileged group was created which enjoyed further concessions and advantages unavailable to rank-and-file members. This group incorporated writers from the governing organs of the Union and those with close ties to the Party-state. It also included renowned writers who were celebrated by the state despite their oppositional political views and their lack of ties to Party-state structures.

Sheila Fitzpatrick analysed this aspect of the politics of culture in relation to the Soviet

Union in the 1930s. She argued that despite the communist regime’s aim to build an egalitarian society, in reality it created highly hierarchical and stratified interrelations.

This was a result of the severe deficit of goods and services. The Soviet government insisted that, in time, better services and supplies of goods would be available to all, but in the initial stages of building communism, they could only be given to those who contributed the most. Fitzpatrick drew attention to the fact that in addition to politicians and certain categories of workers (Stakhanovites), the privileged group also included cultural elites, even if they did not always fully share the Bolsheviks’ views

99 Information regarding literary prizes is detailed in Czarnik, pp: 155-161.

69 and goals.100 When the communist regime was introduced in Poland after the Second

World War, many Soviet systemic solutions were transferred to Poland. Just as the

Union’s legal framework was copied from Soviet creative unions, the politics of benefits and privileges also resembled Soviet solutions to the shortages of goods.

In Poland, as in the Soviet Union, the dispensing of benefits and privileges was thus used to court well-known writers and persuade them to join the Union, hence underscoring the importance the Party-state attributed to the intelligentsia in legitimising the regime. It is not surprising that the Party would reward writers who held high posts in the Union’s governing organs and those with close ties to the Party- state, since such positions suggest some level of obedience or cooperation with the regime. However, the allocation of significant privileges to famous writers who did not overtly support the regime requires further explanation. Assessing the Soviet Union’s approach, Fitzpatrick argued that the Soviet regime, despite its repressive nature and the fact that in theory it prioritised the interests of the proletariat, valued ‘high culture’ and believed that it resided with the ‘old intelligentsia’.101 In addition, in order to use the Writers' Union as a channel for top-down directives, it was necessary for the

Party-state to raise the Union’s status. This was the case in Poland as well as the Soviet

Union. Thus the communist regime in Poland celebrated and courted some renowned

Polish writers who were also well-known abroad, such as Maria Dąbrowska and

Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz.

100 Fitzpatrick, Sheila (1992) The Cultural Front: Power and culture in revolutionary Russia, Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press, pp: 227-228. 101 Ibid, pp: 8-10.

Overall, it appears that the system of dispensing benefits and privileges was used by the Party-state in two ways. Firstly, the Party-state courted literary circles so that they would cooperate and support Party-state politics in an attempt to turn the Union into an efficient channel for transmitting top-down directives. Secondly, the threat of losing benefits and privileges could be used to ensure obedience and punish those who stepped out of line. Most often, the regime would diminish a writer’s access to publishing opportunities as a form of punishment.

Publishing

The main benefit of belonging to the ZLP was access to publishing opportunities. As was the case with all of the advantages of Union membership, those in the higher echelons of the Union tended to see their works published more frequently. In the centrally planned economy, where publishing houses were all state-owned, belonging to the Union meant that a writer could publish and, in the case of problems, could lobby a special Union committee responsible for intervening on writers’ behalf.102

With the nationalisation of publishing houses, the state could promote any writer by allowing the publication of their new works or regularly reprinting previous publications. On the other hand, if a writer stepped out of line, the ban on publishing their works could mean a loss of the income on which they depended. State control of the publishing sector allowed it to promote writers who openly supported the regime.

Jerzy Putrament is one such example. He was in charge of the Primary Party

Organisation of the ZLP as well as a long-term member of the ZLP’s Executive Board,

102 For details of nationalisation of the publishing sector, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 5-6.

71 and had such influence within the Union that Iwaszkiewicz, the ZLP’s President and a famous writer in his own right, wrote in his diary: ‘They made me president of the

Union, where everything is run by Putrament’.103

Putrament was perceived by his contemporaries not as a talented writer but as a skilled politician representing the Party-line. A renowned oppositional émigré writer,

Czesław Miłosz, went to school with Putrament and they started their literary careers around the same time.104 In one of his best known works, Miłosz based a character called Gamma on Putrament: Gamma’s ‘limited talent could not exist on its own, without the support of the Party doctrine’.105 Putrament published close to 20 books during his career, including his 10-volume diaries. His works were regularly reprinted and always available in bookstores. Hence Putrament was one of Poland’s most published authors, though he owed his writing career to his close ties to the Party-

103 Iwaszkiewicz, Jarosław (2010) Dzienniki 1956-1963 [Diaries 1956-1963], Warszawa: Czytelnik, p: 564. 104 The value of Miłosz’s work, The Captive Mind, is unprecedented. His analysis was one of the first extensive discussions regarding the collaboration of intellectuals with totalitarian regimes. Miłosz, to a great extent, discussed the relationship between the Polish writers and the Party-state through the prism of an allegory. Most importantly, Miłosz acknowledged and analysed various reasons for cooperating with totalitarian systems thus enriching our understanding of possible reasons behind some writers’ decisions and actions. By creating various forms of Ketman, i.e. the ways and means of escaping from complete mind captivity and blind following of the new power, Miłosz demonstrated different reasons for cooperating with or simply not officially opposing the existing political system. Indeed, coercion played a vital role in instilling obedience. This was especially valid in the Stalin era. Miłosz, however, thoroughly analysed various reasons for intelligentsia working, at least to some extent, with the regime. He presented a multifaceted look at the issue and demonstrated how multidimensional the topic really is. As this thesis also demonstrated, the reasons behind cooperating with the authorities range from conformism for one’s gain through a belief that the regime is unbeatable to attempts to work within the system in order to change it for the better, among many others. It is also clear that many of Miłosz’s arguments apply to writers discussed in this thesis. One the Union’s Presidents, Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz seemed to represent more than one form of Ketman, attempting to advance the Union’s agenda, preserve the state of Polish literature through official work with the regime in some of the most important posts available to members of intelligentsia. This was paired up with his belief that resistance against the regime was futile and continuous attempts to aid his fellow writers in individual cases. Thus Miłosz’s analysis was complex and thorough as well as clearly representing views of an insider (please see Chapter: Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz at the Helm: The two Presidencies compared). 105 Miłosz, Czesław (2004) Zniewolony umysł [The Captive Mind], Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, p: 180.

72 state and his position as a Vice-President of the Union which he held between 1959 and 1980, rather than to public demand for his works. Putrament’s political career started towards the end of the war. In the immediate post-war years he served as the

Polish ambassador to France. By 1949 he was a member of the Committee for

Cultural Cooperation with Foreign Countries (Komitet Współpracy Kulturalnej z

Zagranicą – KWKZ), alongside high ranking figures such as Edward Ochab, who would later become First Secretary of the Party for a short while.106 He was only just beginning to create ties to the governing structures of the ruling Party, yet he was already an important figure among the ruling elites. Putrament was aware that the literary circles thought he had a limited talent for writing. His view of his own talent can be found in the memoirs of Józef Tejchma, who was a Secretary in the Central

Committee of the Polish United Workers’ Party (Komitet Centralny Polskiej

Zjednoczonej Partii Robotniczej-KC PZPR) and a member of Politburo. Tejchma recalled a situation when Putrament was worried about the results of a vote for members of the KC PZPR as he was concerned about losing his position. As Tejchma recalled,

Putrament admitted that ‘without politics, I do not exist as a writer’.107 It seems that

Putrament’s complex of a mediocre writer could have influenced his relations with other Union members, especially talented writers with oppositional views. It could also

106 Babiracki, Patryk (2015) Soviet Soft Power in Poland: Culture and the making of Stalin’s new empire, 1943-1957, Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, pp: 48-49. Please also see: David G. Tompkins ‘Red China in Central Europe: Creating and Deploying Representations of an Ally in Poland and the GDR’ in Patryk Babiracki and Austin Jersild, eds. Socialist Internationalism in the Cold War: Exploring the Second World (New York: Palgrave, 2017), pp: 280-284. 107 Tejchma, Józef (1991) Kulisy dymisji: Z dzienników ministra kultury 1974-1977 [Behind the Scenes of the Resignation: From the diaries of the minister of culture 1974-1977], Kraków: Oficyna Cracovia, p: 139.

73 be said that it left him with only one role to play in the governing structures of the

Union, that of a Party representative.

On the other side of the privilege spectrum was Dąbrowska, whose literary talent was appreciated by a wide range of readers in Poland and abroad. Notably, it also appears to have been acknowledged by the communist regime. It was clear to her contemporaries that she never supported the regime. Dąbrowska was not a Party member and the examination of minutes from congresses and special meetings of the

Warsaw Branch demonstrates her unbending integrity and refusal to conform to the

Party line. During the protests against censorship in 1964, she was chosen by fellow literati to address writers and Party officials at a meeting in Warsaw. Her speech was tactful but clearly supportive of the protesting writers and thus critical of the Party’s response to the protest. During her entire career she was celebrated and respected, both by the regime and the public.108 The regime used Dąbrowska’s privileged position as a propaganda tool, indicating that Polish literary traditions were respected under communist rule. 109 The authorities, aware of Dąbrowska’s status among both Polish and foreign audiences, continued to court the writer while at the same time granting her a certain level of autonomy. To mark half-a-century of Dąbrowska’s work, an international conference was organised in her honour. As Dąbrowska was born in a small town near Kalisz, the authorities organised the celebrations in her home region

108 Drewnowski, Tadeusz (2006) Wyprowadzka z czyśćca: burzliwe życie pośmiertne Marii Dąbrowskiej [Moving Out of the Purgatory: A turbulent afterlife of Maria Dąbrowska], Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, p: 106; (1987) Rzecz russowska: o pisarstwie Marii Dąbrowskiej [The Russow Case: About Maria Dąbrowska’s writing], Warszawa: Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, p: 319. 109 Similar actions on the part of the communist regime are described by Patryk Babiracki as early attempts to legitimise itself among the wider social strata through the use of an educated elite. Notwithstanding the fact that those attempts were most intensive in the early years, the use of famous writers in order to gain and maintain wider support continued throughout the existence of the communist regime in Poland. Babiracki, p: 69.

74 as well as Warsaw, where she lived permanently after 1917.110 There were four days of celebrations in the two cities. Extending national celebrations to Kalisz could indicate further attempts on the part of the regime to legitimise the system by remembering

Dąbrowska’s roots and pre-war literary output, hence showing respect for Polish history and literary traditions. Furthermore, it allowed the regime to underscore the importance of other regions in Poland which might otherwise feel inferior to Warsaw, the capital city and the privileged cultural centre.

Dąbrowska never experienced any publishing problems. In the 1960s the government officially acknowledged a severe paper shortage, but as many as 29 of Dąbrowska's works were printed between 1960 and 1963. Huge print-runs naturally meant high material rewards, which could come in the form of money and other material benefits such as superior housing. In contrast, rank-and-file members often had to struggle to get their work published and their material rewards could not be compared to those of eminent writers.

Earnings

As access to publishing opportunities depended on the writer’s public status and/or connections to Party structures, the honorariums for publications depended on similar factors. Additionally, different rates applied to different types of works. Siciński has analysed survey results conducted among Union members in 1959 and 1964, and on their basis has calculated the average earnings of each ZLP member. In the 1959 survey, the average monthly wage of a writer was 4,400 zlotys, when the average

110 Dąbrowska, Maria (1997) Dzienniki powojenne tom IV [Post-war Diaries vol IV], Warszawa: Czytelnik, p: 177.

75 wage in Polish industry was around 1,700 zlotys.111 The results of the 1964 survey were used by the ZLP to try to change the rates for publications and gain further benefits from the state. Thus in 1965 the Union acted on a memorandum written by Igor

Newerly, which stressed the poor financial situation of the majority of writers.112

Newerly was President of the Warsaw branch of the Union at the time. The Union estimated average monthly earnings of 2,000 zlotys.113 The discrepancy in the data stems from the fact that respondents to the 1959 survey included honorariums obtained from additional income sources, while in the 1965 memorandum the ZLP calculated monthly earnings based purely on the publishing of literary work, specifically prose, which was the most popular.

Notwithstanding the fact that average earnings of Union members were higher than the national average, and would be higher still if additional income was included in the

ZLP’s estimate, the earnings of the higher echelons of the Union were far superior. A researcher called Dariusz Jarosz analysed a study from 1959 which was prepared for the Department of Propaganda in the KC PZPR. This provided the estimated earnings for 1958 of several prominent Polish writers, derived from data from the Supreme

Audit Office. It was stated that the Union’s President, Iwaszkiewicz, earned over

35,000 zlotys a month; writers Janusz Messner and Jerzy Jurandot, over 25,000 zlotys;

Roman Bratny, 13,000 zlotys; and descendants of the renowned writer Tuwim, around

53,000 zlotys.114 Tuwim was a vocal supporter of the new communist regime from the

111 Siciński, p: 90. 112 Minutes from the Executive Board Meeting 11/10/1965, pp: 11-12. 113 Siciński, p: 88. 114 Jarosz, Dariusz (2000) Polacy a stalinizm 1948-1956 [Poles vs Stalinism 1948-1956] , Warszawa : Instytut Historii PAN, p: 183.

76 beginning. He was celebrated both in Poland and abroad and his name had drawn many writers into the Union in the initial post-war years.115 Tuwim was a poet and satirist and his works had huge print-runs. His poems for children were important texts for school pupils and were translated into Russian, among other languages, which brought additional honorariums.116 Despite the fact that he died in 1953, which meant that the Party-state did not need to secure his cooperation any longer, it continuously and overtly used his fame and political inclinations to achieve its aim of further legitimising the regime. This explains the huge re-prints of his works and, simultaneously, the extremely high earnings of his descendants. Dąbrowska never complained about her financial situation; taking into account the huge print-runs of her works and her regular publication in journals, it can be assumed that her earnings were also high.

Jarosz indicates that the estimates prepared for the Department of Propaganda did not include income from publications in journals, nor from steady employment outside of the sphere of literature, such as full-time work at universities. Hence it can be assumed that, in some instances, the earnings were higher than those calculated. It is important to note that the writers named above had different political sympathies. For example,

Bratny was a Party member; Tuwim was not a Party member but was an official supporter of the regime; and Iwaszkiewicz was not a supporter of the regime but did attempt to work within its structures by avoiding conflict with the communist

115 Babiracki, pp: 68-69, and 73. 116 Urbanek, Mariusz (2004) Tuwim [Tuwim], Poznań: Wydawnictwo Dolnośląskie, p: 115; Jedlicka, Wanda and Marian Toporowski (1963) Wspomnienia o Tuwimie [Memories of Tuwim], Warszawa: Czytelnik, p: 143.

77 authorities. This demonstrates that the Party rewarded not only its supporters, but also famous authors who could help to advance the state’s agenda.

Additional income opportunities

Survey results from 1964 demonstrate that 56% of respondents had additional income, and 10% were in receipt of financial aid provided by the ZLP to help struggling writers.117 Therefore, the data suggests that only about a third of Union members lived purely on the proceeds from their literary work.

Significantly, additional work opportunities depended on the status of the writers and their connections, if not to the Party-state, then to other influential members of the

ZLP. Getting their own work published was only one side of the publishing benefits.

Prominent figures were also placed in charge of periodicals and publishing outlets.

Writers were paid for writing regular columns for journals, giving interviews and participating in literary meetings with the public. However, the best additional income opportunities came with a secure position in media and publishing.

Prominent figures were placed in high positions in publishing houses and journals, a phenomenon described by Sheila Fitzpatrick and Vera Tolz as the delegation to selected members of relevant professions of some control over the cultural sphere.118

This, however, involved a certain risk. Notably, writers in those privileged positions did not always conform to the Party’s expectations. The publishing house Czytelnik, which

117 Siciński, Table 44, p: 174. 118 Fitzpatrick, pp: 242-245. Tolz, Vera (2002) ‘’Cultural Bosses’ as Patrons and Clients: The functioning of the Soviet Creative Unions in the post-war period’, Contemporary European History 11(1), p: 88.

78 was the biggest publisher at the time, provides a good example of such complex dynamics, as well as demonstrating a clear hierarchy regarding access to privileges.

Czytelnik was a cooperative in which its members chose both the Board of Directors and members. Iwaszkiewicz was Chairman between 1952 and 1980. Dąbrowska and

Iwaszkiewicz were never Party members and they came from the pre-war intelligentsia.

However, considering the complexity of the relationship between the communist authorities and the intelligentsia, as well as the regime’s aim of making high culture available to the masses, which necessitated cooperation with representatives of the intelligentsia, it was inevitable that prominent writers were respected, celebrated and obtained great privileges over the years.

Dąbrowska recalls one of the meetings of the Board of Directors in Czytelnik, which took place ‘as usual’. The Board was chosen, with only one member being replaced; this was due to the resignation of one of the former directors. According to

Dąbrowska, this was a typical situation; the Board rarely changed its members.

However, she remembered the justification given by Iwaszkiewicz at this board meeting: he claimed that ‘thanks to this fiction (elections) Czytelnik can remain a cooperative’.119 This, in turn, allowed the publishing house to gain concessions, since it had a separate budget, its own bank account and independence from the Ministry of

Finance. Thus, it could guarantee its writers the timely payment of honorariums and less interference in the publishing process. This, however, was not the case with other publishing houses in Poland. Thus the special case of Czytelnik suggests that prominent figures would guard their positions and earning opportunities. This is clearly visible

119 Dąbrowska, vol II, p: 455.

79 from the way the Board of Directors was chosen. On the other hand, influential writers would also use their privileged position to aid rank-and-file members who were struggling financially to obtain fair and timely payments.

Writers also had opportunities to obtain additional income by participating in authors’ evenings with the public, by lobbying ZLP’s Stipend and Loan Committee for financial aid, and by participating in various literary competitions. Support for these competitions ranged from state and ministerial funding, to sponsorship by journals and cultural institutions. There were different prize levels, especially with regards to state and ministerial prizes. First degree awards were given for entire literary achievements.

Second and third degrees were assigned to writers for individual works. The prizes provided significant financial aid; in some instances they consisted of the equivalent of two years average income.120

Literary prizes played an important role in the regime’s politics of culture since they promoted the writer and made possible the creation of a literary pantheon, which in turn elevated the status of the Writers’ Union. Through these actions, the regime created a certain hierarchy in the evaluation of artistic achievements. While it cannot be denied that the choice of winners was sometimes politically motivated, or depended at least on the writer’s attitude towards the state and his/her lack of involvement in oppositional actions, genuinely acclaimed works and writers did receive awards. Between 1950 and 1970, the first degree prizes of the State Literary

Competition were allocated to Tuwim (1951), Dąbrowska (1955), Iwaszkiewicz (1952,

1955, 1970), the poet Leopold Staff (1951, 1955), and Antoni Słonimski (1955), a writer

120 Czarnik, p: 151.

80 who was clearly and vocally oppositional.121 In contrast, Putrament received the first degree award only once, in 1964.122 This was most likely due to the literary circles’ protest against censorship that occurred around that time, which had resulted in the regime bringing writers back in line and sending a clear signal to oppositional groups about the limits of artistic and political expression. Despite some political motivation in the allocation of awards, it is clear that the Party-state also felt obliged to publicly demonstrate its respect for Polish literary traditions and to reward writers with genuine national and international prestige. As demonstrated by the data, an appreciation of famous writers and the simultaneous use of their status for the regime’s purposes was a long-term trend which lasted throughout the communist era in Poland and was not just a characteristic of the Gomułka period and the post-1956 politics of culture.123

The regime’s attempts to create a privileged elite of writers allowed those writers to obtain more concessions and some level of immunity. One writer, Zygmunt Mycielski, recalls a conversation with Iwaszkiewicz which took place in 1964 following a famous protest against censorship. Iwaszkiewicz was worried about their situation and asked

Mycielski to be careful when he wrote letters to him, as Iwaszkiewicz’s mail was being read by the Security Services. Mycielski replied: ‘There’s nothing they can do to you, nor even to me’.124 This statement clearly demonstrates that in the post-Stalin context, when systematic terror was no longer the main means of governing society, some

121 Czarnik, Table 12, pp: 157-161. It is important to note that, between 1955 and 1964, the competition was suspended thus explaining the void in data presented here. 122 Ibid. 123 A similar trend can be observed in the Soviet Union, even under Stalin, when the Stalin’s prize was given to the most internationally famous musicians. For further details, please see: Frolova-Walker, Marina (2016) Stalin’s Music Prize: Soviet culture and politics, New Haven: Yale University Press. 124 Mycielski, Zygmunt (2001) Dziennik 1960-1969 [The Diary 1960-1969], Warszawa: Iskry, p: 180.

81 famous writers could feel safe from the regime’s repression. However, while Mycielski was confident nothing would happen to Iwaszkiewicz, he occupied a somewhat lower position in the Union’s hierarchy himself and so he was not as certain of his own safety.125

As Iwaszkiewicz was inclined not to antagonise the authorities, the security of his position is not surprising. However, the regime’s ability to turn a blind eye to some of the behaviour of the most celebrated writers, despite their clearly oppositional views, is particularly interesting. Dąbrowska did not experience problems with Party officials, despite her open contacts with oppositional émigré writers like Miłosz, and the publisher of the émigré journal Kultura, Jerzy Giedroyc. However, following the protest against censorship in 1964, when 34 prominent members of the intelligentsia, including Dąbrowska, signed a protest letter, she no longer felt so secure.126 The protest resulted in repression against some of the signatories, but also in support from intellectuals around the world. About a month after the protest letter was delivered to the authorities, the General Secretary of the European Community of Writers (ECW) wrote to Iwaszkiewicz asking him to explain the sanctions imposed on six members of the ECW, including Dąbrowska. Iwaszkiewicz was abroad at the time, waiting for the situation to calm down. Reportedly, Putrament assured the General Secretary that the issue would be taken care of with the utmost respect and care.127

Interestingly, in the early days after the protest, when the letter from the ECW was still being discussed, Dąbrowska did not experience any sanctions. During her speech at

125 Ibid. 126 For details regarding the ‘letter of 34’, please see chapter The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 26-27. 127 Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, pp: 66-67.

82 the Warsaw branch meeting, when she defended the letter and its signatories, she stated that some of the signatories who did not experience repression were put in an awkward position because of this special treatment. She implied she was among those who had not had sanctions imposed on them.128 However, it seems that her speech, which received a standing ovation, might have been a step too far from the Party’s perspective. In a document submitted to the Security Services by a secret informant in the ZLP, there is a note pertaining to Dąbrowska and her situation following her speech. The informant reported that Dąbrowska felt that she was being harassed. One example was a visit from an official who had questions regarding the legality of an arrangement by which the flat assigned to Dąbrowska was being occupied by

Dąbrowska’s partner, a writer called Anna Kowalska. Dąbrowska’s second grievance related to a possible tax audit. The writer was never a subject to a tax audit before and she considered attepts to impose an audit on her to be a regime’s response to her speech.129 My research suggests that none of those cases had any further consequences. However, Dąbrowska’s diaries demonstrate that the fear of repression was taking its toll. She put it very bluntly: ‘I am afraid, terribly afraid, like an animal. (…)

I am afraid of the house search, even of arrest’.130 Yet despite her fear she remained committed to her views and never retracted any of her opinions. Taking into consideration international support and interest in the events surrounding the protests, as well as possible outrage among writers and the general public in cases

128 Full text of Dąbrowska’s speech is available in: Minutes from the Warsaw Branch Meeting 12/06/1964, pp: 29-51. 129 Rokicki, Konrad (2009) ‘Początek walki. Lata 1956-1970, dokumenty’ [The Beginning of the Fight. Years 1956-1970, Documents] in Andrzej Chojnowski and Sebastian Ligarski (eds) Twórczość obca nam klasowo: Aparat represji wobec środowiska literackiego 1956-1970 [The Alien Class Works: The apparatus of repression and the literary circles 1956-1970, Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej, p: 185. 130 Dąbrowska, vol IV, p: 345.

83 such as the repression of Dąbrowska, it seems that the Party issued a warning to the effect that no one would be safe if they stepped out of line. This example demonstrates the Party’s ability to exert necessary pressure to obtain a certain level of obedience, and that non-conformism as represented by Dąbrowska, was rare, given the fact that a writer’s livelihood depended almost entirely on the state.

Dąbrowska was not the only writer who could step out of line, at least to a certain point. In 1965, Iwaszkiewicz’s attempt to lobby Party officials on behalf of the Union was refused, and the Union’s President was accused of siding with the writers.

Iwaszkiewicz, as the person responsible for the needs of Union members, felt he was simply doing his job. Iwaszkiewicz had a conversation on this subject with Zenon

Kliszko, a long-term member of the KC PZPR; annoyed by Kliszko’s attitude, he shouted at him that he ‘just received a very warm letter from Miłosz’.131 He justified this on the grounds that the Party considered Miłosz to be ‘the greatest enemy’. This obvious gesture of disobedience in relation to unwritten rules of conduct was ignored by the regime. However, it is clear that Iwaszkiewicz’s ability to stand up to the authorities was not on the same level as that of Dąbrowska. One reason could be that as the

Union’s President, Iwaszkiewicz had to represent all Union members, and his actions could have repercussions affecting the Union’s position and the livelihood of its members. The fact that he left the country during the first major conflict between the protesters and the authorities and avoided any involvement in it tells us a lot about his attitude. Iwaszkiewicz used the tactic of avoiding conflict at any cost throughout his presidency, in the hope of advancing the Union’s demands.

131 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, p: 86.

At the same time, Iwaszkiewicz was worried about his most valued treasure, his house and land near Warsaw, called Stawisko. It was widely believed in the literary circles that the preservation of this estate was very important to him. Miłosz claimed that

‘Jarosław will do anything to save Stawisko’.132 Iwaszkiewicz’s diaries confirm his love for the place and his constant fear of losing it.133 Neither Iwaszkiewicz’s cautious politics as President, nor the fact that the Party-state would occasionally invite prominent foreign dignitaries to Stawisko to demonstrate how well a writer in communist Poland could live, did not guarantee the safety of Stawisko.134 In April

1964, the regime started to build a road in the region and confiscated part of Stawisko for that purpose.135 Yet it seems that the decision was made far ahead of the protest against censorship and its repercussions, and it was not a sign of repression. All the same, it could, to some extent, explain Iwaszkiewicz’s stance on the matter, his trip abroad to avoid a difficult situation, and, upon his return, his lack of support for the protesters. Furthermore, he was responsible for the livelihood of Union members. The

ZLP had been attempting to obtain greater benefits for all of its members, focusing mainly on the Authors’ Convention which would guarantee better rates for publishing; he knew that antagonising the authorities might result in a refusal to meet Union demands.

The Party-state’s unofficial means of exerting control by using the system of benefits as a bargaining chip and a threat seems to have been successful. Even the most

132 Miłosz, Czesław (1991) Rok myśliwego [The Year of the Hunter], Kraków: Wydawnictwo Znak, p: 190. 133 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, p: 21. 134 Rokicki, Konrad (2011) Literaci. Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956-1970 [Writers. Relations between the writers and the authorities of the People's Republic of Poland 1956- 1970], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej, p: 22. 135 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, p: 53.

85 prominent writers, those who could count on privileged treatment, still feared losing their privileges, which in some instances were just basic conditions for human life and creative work, such as having an apartment.

The case of Union member Leszek Prorok demonstrates how complex the writers’ situation was when they had to decide between their moral values and their livelihood. This was especially the case with members in the lower echelons of the

Union. In his diaries, Prorok recalls his internal struggle about what position he should take in the protest of 1964. He was supposed to move to Warsaw that year, and had been allocated a flat by the ZLP. This was also the time when the regime instigated a list of signatures condemning the protest of the 34. The writer was worried that if he did not sign he would lose his Warsaw flat and possibly never get another opportunity to move to Warsaw, which would jeopardise his career.136 This example demonstrates the importance of flat allocation, especially in Warsaw, for the development of a writer’s career, and that it cannot be underestimated. The security of having a place to live and create was one of the main benefits of membership in the Union, which provided help with obtaining this limited resource.

Housing

As with other benefits and privileges, the system for allocating accommodation was hierarchical and stratified. In the immediate post-war years, the Party-state began rebuilding Warsaw and new neighbourhoods started to emerge. In a situation where all goods were scarce, flats were the most sought after commodity. The allocation of

136 Prorok, Leszek (1998) Dziennik 1949-1984 [A Diary 1949-1984], Łódź: Wydawnictwo Baran i Suszczyński, p: 125.

86 apartments was linked to privileged access to the governing elites in Poland.137 It was the same within the Writers’ Union. The best apartments and neighbourhoods were reserved for the most famous and privileged writers. However, it also has to be acknowledged that the political elite had the best accommodation possible. That means that within the higher echelons of society, a hierarchical system concerning the assignment of goods was also stratified. The privileged group in the Writers’ Union was assigned accommodation in the city centre and Old Town, with Rose Alley Street reserved for the most celebrated writers such as Antoni Słonimski, Adam Ważyk, and

Jan Kott.138

The ZLP’s members had several ways of obtaining a flat, which included applying to the

Accommodation Office (Urząd Kwaterunkowy), or to Housing Associations

(Spółdzielnie Mieszkaniowe), or putting requests forward to the ZLP’s Housing

Committee. These means were mostly used by rank-and-file members. The most privileged writers would put their requests directly to Party officials or were offered flats by individual Party leaders who acted as patrons to well-known cultural figures in an attempt to court them.

Dąbrowska’s diaries, again, provide us with a good example. As early as 1950, a co- creator of Czytelnik, Jerzy Borejsza, who was also a member of the Committee of

Culture and Arts at the Council of Ministers, approached Dąbrowska at one of the events organised by the ZLP. He told her he could influence the process of allocating

137 Jarosz, Dariusz (2010) Mieszkanie się należy: Studium z peerelowskich praktyk społecznych [I deserve an apartment: A study of social practices under communism], Warszawa: ASPRA-JR, p: 332. 138 Trznadel, p: 189. Please see also: Łopieńska, Barbara (1997) Sposób życia: Z Pawłem Hertzem rozmawia Barbara Łopieńska [A Way of Life: Barbara Łopieńska’s conversation with Paweł Hertz], Warszawa: Iskry, p: 107.

87 apartments and had put a few aside for special purposes. He then said that he had heard Dąbrowska’s current flat was dark and small. The writer denied that this was the case; indeed, she had a large flat in the city centre, and the only offer she would accept would be a house in the Warsaw suburbs.139 This demonstrates how unequally members of the ZLP were treated with regards to benefits and privileges, and that the most famous writers could count on the regime’s best privileges. Despite the great shortages in post-war Poland, the most privileged people were given extensive options to improve their lives. They could refuse some offers, and even demand more advantages. This level of privilege was available only to a narrow group of Writers’

Union members.

Those who were in the higher echelons of the Union but did not have Dąbrowska’s fame could still access similar privileges if they approached Party officials directly. As

Jarosz argues, this was a recognised way of obtaining additional goods, and writers' diaries and personal correspondence suggest that this was indeed the case. A renowned poet, Mieczysław Jastrun, has described his attempts to obtain an apartment in Warsaw in 1957. At the time he lived on Lwicka Street, where apartments were assigned to members of the publishing house Czytelnik. His apartment was small and dark, and he wanted to move to a bigger place in a better part of town. Accordingly, he visited Minister Janusz Wieczorek, who was a long-term

Chief of the Cabinet Office (1956-1980). With the minister’s help he wrote an application which was then sent to the Cabinet Office.140 It is clear from Jastrun’s

139 Dąbrowska (1997), vol II, p: 20. 140 Jastrun, Mieczysław (2002) Dziennik 1955-1981 [A Diary 1955-1981], Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, p: 99.

88 diaries that there was no personal connection between him and the minister. This indicates that lobbying the authorities through letter-writing was an unofficially approved way of accelerating the process of obtaining goods.

Having close connections to governing structures within the PZPR was also an acceptable way of advancing one’s position and could result in a greater chance of success. The correspondence between poet Zbigniew Herbert and actor and writer

Jerzy Zawieyski, who was also a member of the Council of State (Rada Państwa 1957-

1968), demonstrates how close connections to Party officials could help in obtaining benefits and privileges.

It is important to note that both Zawieyski and Herbert lived in poor conditions during the Stalinist era due to their refusal to accept the regime’s politics, especially with regards to the politics of culture.141 Herbert withdrew his candidacy to the ZLP in 1951 and did not join the Union until the Thaw, in 1955. He enjoyed his first literary success only in 1956. Herbert was one of many writers who decided to become active and publish only in the relaxed atmosphere of the Thaw. The system of dispensing benefits and privileges, however, survived throughout the communist era. The complex system of institutions and organisations allocating housing and travel stipends or granting literary prizes remained the same. As argued by Fik, the changing political atmosphere along with the hopes of less restricted freedoms caused a new wave of writers to start publishing their work.142 Notwithstanding the fact that the Thaw did not achieve the long-term results which had been hoped for, it did end the era of terror, thus allowing

141 Rokicki (2011), p: 83. 142 Fik, Marta (1995) Marcowa kultura [The Culture of March], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Wodnika, p: 107.

89 some level of safety and certainty as well as hope that one could influence the existing situation for the better without the fear of losing one’s life. There was also a belief that if a change such as the Thaw could take place, there was a possibility that one could help bring about further changes to the existing political system while working within its structures. Hence an adaptation to ‘normal’ life became possible for many writers without them having to compromise their most important values. Herbert joined the

ZLP during the membership influx which took place at this time.

In 1957, with Zawieyski’s help, Herbert received an apartment from the ZLP. He also received a four-year stipend from the ZLP.143 This allowed the poet to travel extensively, write about his experiences, and advance his career, which led to him teaching abroad and living for long periods in several European countries. Herbert’s experience is an important example as his comments on apartment allocation, given in an interview with Trznadel, strongly indicate that literary elites at times co-operated with the regime for financial gain.144 Herbert was never a loyal supporter of the Party- state, but he did function within the system and enjoyed the benefits of being a writer, to some extent thanks to his close connections to Zawieyski.145 On the other hand,

Herbert was continuously corresponding with Miłosz, exchanging literature and working on projects which included publishing Polish works abroad. Thus the regime demonstrated if not appreciation, then at least tolerance for many writers who were talented and had public acclaim. It becomes evident, then, that the motives for cooperation were complex. The extent of the regime’s leniency and courtship, which

143 Łukasiewicz, Jacek and Paweł Kądziela (2002) Zbigniew Herbert, Jerzy Zawieyski: Korespondencja 1949-1967 [Zbigniew Herbert, Jerzy Zawieyski: Correspondence 1949-1967], Warszawa: Więzi, p: 13. 144 Trznadel, p: 189. 145 Łukasiewicz and Kądziela, p: 13.

90 at times were surprisingly high towards the most eminent literary figures, did not fully extend to rank-and-file members, who sometimes had to struggle to get their needs met.

As the Housing Committee of the Union did not keep reports or minutes of its meetings, how the less privileged members of the Union obtained apartments has to be deduced by other means. The example of Janusz Głowacki, whose work first appeared in the early 1960s, can help us here. The writer recalls his attempts to obtain his own apartment so that he could move out of his parents' flat. These included joining the waiting list in a Housing Association, writing several applications in an attempt to fast track his request, and even claiming his mother was mentally ill and his father an alcoholic. This was followed by a house visit from the Housing Association, but as Głowacki explains, his father was not convincing enough and his case was not accelerated.146 Głowacki’s book was anecdotal and somewhat prone to exaggeration, and so his story should be read with caution. All the same, it does indicate the general hardship of obtaining apartments in 1950s-1960s communist Poland by writers who did not belong to the higher echelons of the Union.

As the examples demonstrate, apartments were among the most important benefits for literary circles as they allowed writers to continue their creative work in reasonable conditions. However, in the context of limited access to any goods, another advantage of belonging to the Union, which was a necessity for the writing profession, comes to light. In the opinion of most writers, travelling abroad was the second most important benefit. They justified the need for foreign travel on the grounds that they had to

146 Głowacki, Janusz (2004) Z głowy [Get it over with], Warszawa: Świat Książki, p: 196.

91 experience different cultures in order to be able to write about other countries convincingly. Membership in the Union provided them with greater access to foreign travel than that enjoyed by the general public. Furthermore, the ZLP, at least in theory, offered travel stipends to all of its members.

Travelling abroad

Access to foreign travel was also based on a stratified hierarchy, both within the country as a whole, and the Union. Ordinary citizens had less access to travel opportunities than members of the Writers’ Union, trade unions and, especially, the

Party and state organs. In contrast to the virtual ban on foreign travel in the Stalin era, the Gomułka period imposed fewer restrictions. Before the Thaw, obtaining a foreign passport was almost impossible; only a few dozen applications were approved annually,147 and only official visits to other countries were permitted. With the changing political situation, the relaxation of the rules imposed by the Soviet Union started to appear in Poland. However, after an initial torrent of applications to obtain a travel permit, which proved hard to process due to an extremely complicated procedure of approval or rejection, there was a restructuring of the application process, and the institutions which dealt with them. This entailed simplifying the application process as well as minimising the number of institutions involved and thus the level of control over the process.

147 Stola, Dariusz (2015) ‘Opening a Non-exit State: The passport policy of communist Poland, 1949– 1980’, East European Politics and Societies and Cultures 29(1), p: 98.

Passport policies were among the systemic solutions transferred from the Soviet Union at the end of the war and, consequently, the liberalisation of the rules about foreign travel depended on the situation in the Soviet Union. Yet there were some important differences which had long-term significant consequences for Polish culture and politics. Citizens of Gomułka’s Poland enjoyed greater freedom of travel than their

Soviet counterparts in the late 1950s and 1960s. Dariusz Stola’s research on passport policy in Poland provides figures which demonstrate a steady rise in applications as well as approvals for foreign travel. The increase in travel permits in the post-Thaw period did drop to some extent in the late 1950s, due to the reorganisation of the institutions responsible for passport control; yet by the late 1960s the number of Poles allowed to travel individually or on organised trips rose to over 600,000 a year.148 By present day standards, this is not a large number. However, in the same period in the

Soviet Union there was a similar number of travel permits but for a population that was almost ten times as big.149 The opportunity to travel allowed for the influence of different opinions, life-styles and ideas in Poland, which had an impact on society at large. 150 The ease of travel between Poland and its neighbouring satellite countries in the 1960s is particularly significant and led to improved relations between those countries. These international contacts resulted in agreements signed in the early

1970s with Czechoslovakia, East Germany and West Germany which increased the

148 Stola, p: 107. 149 Matthews, Mervyn (1978) Privilege in the Soviet Union: A Study of Elite Life-Styles Under Communism, London and Boston: George Allen and Unwin, p: 51. 150 Interestingly, in 1956 and 1981, during major social upheavals in Poland, the Soviet Union stopped the Polish-Soviet border traffic in order to limit the transmission of Western ideas to the Soviet Union, thus marking Poland as a threat to the existing political system. This, in turn, underlines the specific context of communist rule in Poland. Please see: Cold War Crossings: International travel and exchange across the Soviet bloc, 1940s-1960s, Patryk Babiracki and Kenyon Zimmer (eds.) (Texas: Texas A&M University Press, 2014), p: 6.

93 number of Polish travel permits to the countries of the Soviet bloc and the West to several million a year.151

In comparison, in the Stalinist period, dissatisfaction with the regime could not be expressed publicly, and leaving the country was virtually impossible. This seems to be the basis of the regime’s hegemony, and belief on a large part of the population that this could not be overturned; this, in turn, resulted in the need to adapt to the existing situation. Such adaptation involved either genuinely following the rules, or simply appearing to do so. An awareness of the restrictions pertaining to every-day life within the communist regime allows us to better understand the choices made by writers who lived in the Stalinist and, later, post-Thaw reality. At the same time, the liberalisation of the travel rules in Poland, which resulted in relatively large numbers of

Poles being allowed to visit other countries and even to emigrate, resulted in a vast influx of ideas, music, books and fashion, and had significant cultural and political consequences which could not be reversed. It is most likely that opening the borders was one reason for the political protests of the 1970s, the emergence of the

Solidarność (Solidarity) movement in the 1980s and, consequently, the collapse of the communist regime in Poland.152 Opening boarders allowed for greater contacts of

Polish citizens with Western values, lifestyles and influenced thinking and needs of

151 Stola, p: 112. 152 As this theisis argues, Poland witnessed specific conditions and, at times, experienced more liberal approach. Being so close to the West, Poland was often considered a threat and a source of a further spread of Western ideas to the East and other countries of the Soviet bloc. Less strict approach to Polish citizens travelling to the West at the beginning of the 1970s resulted in an influx of democratic ideas, music, literature, and even clothing from the West. Thus by 1981, when Polish boarders were closed due to political upheavals in order to stop the spread of oppositional views, Poland was considered the source of oppositional values with the emergence of Solidarity movement and mass support it gained. For more details please see: Cold War Crossings: International travel and exchange across the Soviet bloc, 1940s-1960s, Patryk Babiracki and Kenyon Zimmer (eds.) (Texas: Texas A&M University Press, 2014), p: 6.

Polish people. Thus greater travel opportunities had direct impact on radicalising the opposition. With regards to the Writers’ Union, greater access to travel, contacts with foreign cultures, and the influx of Western ideas, could have led to the increase and faster spread of oppositional ideas. It can be argued that those influences played a part in the radicalisation of anti-regime attitudes.

Yet these welcome changes to travel procedures did not mean that ordinary citizens were free to travel whenever and wherever they wanted, although it did allow vast numbers of Poles to experience other cultures, engage in small trade activities or even to emigrate. In comparison to regular citizens, members of the Writers’ Union enjoyed far greater opportunities to visit other countries as this was one of the main benefits of the writing profession and Union membership. However, as with housing and publishing benefits, travel opportunities depended on the writer’s position within the

Union. Most prominent writers and those in high positions experienced far greater opportunities to visit foreign countries than their rank-and-file counterparts.

In the December 31 entry in his diary, Iwaszkiewicz gave a summary of the year 1964.

Due to the controversies surrounding the ‘letter of 34’ he had had a difficult year, but his travel experiences had made him feel much better. That year he travelled to

Milan, Kiev, Geneva, Rome, Venice, and Sicily.153 He owed such glamorous travel to his literary fame as well as his position as the Union’s President and the head of the

Polish Committee for the Defence of Peace.154

153 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III p: 81. 154 Biuletyn ZLP [Writers’ Union Bulletin] (2008) ‘Rozmowa z Joanną Siedlecką’ [An Interview with Joanna Siedlecka], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej, p: 9.

Similarly, Dąbrowska had many invitations to events and conferences taking place abroad, and even when she was abroad on holiday she would be treated as if she was on an official trip. A good example is her holiday in Belgrade, when she and Kowalska were taken straight to the neighbourhood assigned for members of the government, where they were accommodated in a villa intended for important and highly positioned guests.155 The extraordinary treatment experienced by Dąbrowska, or the multiple travel opportunities enjoyed by Iwaszkiewicz, were only available to a very small group of writers.

Writers in the lower echelons of the Union could still count on a certain level of privileged treatment and easier access to travel. Jastrun described his experience in

1959 of waiting in the queue to obtain a permit to travel to Bulgaria. He ruminated on the privileged position of a writer in communist Poland compared with that of

‘mortals’, as he described members of the general public. He explained: ‘when we got to the window, the official automatically softened and let us know that she knew who

Jastrun was’.156

Such opportunities and privileges were not as readily available to rank-and-file members. Obvious discrepancies in treatment of famous and high positioned writers did not go unnoticed and caused constant tension among rank-and-file members who expressed their discontent with the existing situation quite regularly and in public.

155 Dąbrowska, vol IV p: 92. 156 Jastrun, p: 204.

Discontent of rank-and-file members

This section will address the extent to which rank-and-file Union members could express their dissatisfaction with the existing system of benefits and privileges and the privileged position of some Union leaders. Members expressed this dissatisfaction mainly at plenary congresses, since they had little opportunity to discuss the issues in public. As Tolz explains with respect to the Soviet Union, the main channel for expressing discontent was writing letters to the authorities.157 Jarosz holds that the situation in Poland was not dissimilar.158 However, the resources available to this researcher relate to the debates within the ZLP, so my analysis will focus on debates which took place in congresses and the public expression of dissatisfaction.

Between 1956 and 1970, the issue of daily life and livelihood were regularly discussed at congresses, which indicates their vital importance to Union members. The main accusation was ‘Warsaw-centrism’ with regards to publishing, housing and travel. In

1956 one of the rank-and-file members, Zofia Woźnicka, openly criticised the fact that the majority of members did not have the same access to travel opportunities as those in the upper echelons.159 Anger about the unequal dispensation of benefits was expressed regularly on different occasions, and the governing organs of the Union did attempt to deal with this by providing travel stipends for members of Regional

Branches.

157 Tolz, p: 95. 158 Jarosz (2010), p: 332. 159 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1956 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1956], p: 385.

According to survey data, between 1952 and 1963, two thirds (66.4 %) of surveyed writers travelled abroad.160 This data demonstrates that ZLP members enjoyed privileged access to travel opportunities compared with regular citizens. Within the

Union, the discrepancies relating to travel opportunities seem quite obvious when one looks at the privileged positions of top writers such as Iwaszkiewicz or Dąbrowska. Yet in reality, the Executive Board’s politics of dispensing benefits favoured members of

Regional Branches. Despite the fact that over half of all ZLP members were in the

Warsaw branch, the governing organs of the Union assigned more social funding to local branches than to Warsaw.161 However, it has to be acknowledged that members of those branches had fewer publishing opportunities than their Warsaw-based colleagues, and so they did actually need more financial aid.

Yet the situation was more nuanced than it may seem. Because of the travel opportunities enjoyed by the most famous writers, the rank-and-file’s sense of inequality seems understandable, and despite evidence provided by the Board of funding favouring local branches, discontent amongst the rank-and-file members seems to have remained the same over the years. In any case, the Board’s calculations treated official visits separately, as ‘travel for professional conferences’, which meant that these expenses – which generally went to the more famous writers – were not taken from the Union’s social funds.162 The Executive Board could not do much to improve the situation, as official visits to foreign countries had to be carried out by the most prominent writers or by writers in the governing structures of the Union.

160 Siciński, p: 103. 161 Rokicki (2011), p: 26. 162 Protokół Nr 18 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 24/01/1969 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 18 24/01/1969], p: 80.

Accordingly, regular members had less attractive travel opportunities, such as exchange programmes offered by the Union.163 Notwithstanding the Board’s attempts to limit the divisions between Union members, the situation of writers outside of

Warsaw was worse, and the help they received from the Union’s social funds did not match the opportunities available to members of the Warsaw branch. Yet despite their grievances, it seems that that inequality between rank and file members and the

Union elite was largely accepted by rank-and-file members, possibly because the whole of societal life was structured on a hierarchical basis. This makes it easier to understand the fact that the main cause of discontent was the divisions between rank- and-file members in Regional Branches and in the capital city.

In fact, privileged writers could help to advance the interests of regular members.

Branches had less access to unofficial channels through which to advance their demands, including the demand for improved housing. Accordingly, a rank-and-file member, Monika Warneńska, called for prominent writers to take action and lobby the authorities about existing housing policies, as their names ‘carry importance’ and they could influence the decision-making processes.164 She was, then, acknowledging the usefulness of unofficial means of advancing members’ interests, and calling on the help of privileged Union members to make use of such means.

As this chapter has demonstrated, access to accommodation was based on a writer’s position and fame. However, the survey from 1959 informs us that 92% of respondents were the main tenants in their accommodation, meaning they did not live in shared

163 Rokicki (2011), p: 27. 164 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1956 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1956], p: 409.

99 accommodation. Furthermore, most of them lived in flats provided either by the ZLP or the state (from the pool of flats available to the creative professions).165 This does not mean that the percentage was as high among all members, but it indicates that there were serious attempts to provide writers with accommodation during the housing shortage of the communist era, thus underscoring the advantaged position of writers within the communist regime.

The majority of famous writers lived in Warsaw and they could count on privileged access to flats. However, Rokicki argues that regional authorities took care of local writers and provided help in obtaining flats. For example, ‘in Szczecin, the City Council would inquire about the accommodation needs of writers and the local ZLP branch would present the situation of those in need of flat allocation’.166 This indicates that the criticisms and demands of rank-and-file members were being considered, and that some level of aid was provided for Regional Branches. All the same, regular members still had a feeling of inferiority regarding access to goods, especially in comparison with what was considered to be the glamorous life of the Warsaw elite. If Warsaw-centrism was a cause for grievance with regards to travel and housing, such discontent was also expressed with regards to publishing opportunities, which provided the main income for writers.

In comparison with the highest echelons of the Union, publishing benefits available to rank-and-file members seemed incomparably inferior. At the same time, members of

Regional Branches had less access to publishing opportunities than their colleagues in

165 Siciński, p: 81. 166 Rokicki (2011), p: 29.

100

Warsaw. Additional earning opportunities were also harder for members of Regional

Branches to access. Accusations that certain groups of writers were favoured are understandable in the light of Warsaw’s position as the cultural centre of Poland.

Putrament acknowledged the concerns of members of the Regional Branches and admitted that living and working in ‘the capital provides a whole range of privileges’.167

Growing tensions and dissatisfactions were also addressed by Iwaszkiewicz during the

1960 Congress, when he attempted to soften the discussion by persuading delegates that ‘whatever is happening in Warsaw could not be possible without the work and effort of members of the regional branches’.168 It can be said, then, that the Union leadership demonstrated a level of care about the welfare of rank-and-file members and attempted to minimise divisions within the Union not only by giving financial aid to the general members, but also by providing them with emotional support. Union officials were also aware of the financial difficulties within literary circles and continued to attempt to improve the lives and livelihoods of all its members.

Curiously, despite the fact that rank-and-file members regularly expressed grievances regarding the inequalities in dispensing benefits and privileges, they never called for changes to Union structures, nor in the way it functioned. Furthermore, even though elections to the Union’s Board were to an extent controlled by the Primary Party

Organisation, the Union voted and provided its own candidates (outside of the approved list of names). Most Union members voted for the same group of people who were neither openly supportive of the regime, nor overtly oppositional.

Iwaszkiewicz was continuously voted in as President, and held this post between 1959

167 Taken from Rokicki (2011), p: 25. 168 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1960 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1960], pp: 39-40.

101 and 1980. This suggests that the Union accepted and supported the policies of Union officials towards the Party-state agenda which, in turn, demonstrates that issues concerning daily life were paramount for the majority of rank-and-file members. They were clearly aware that membership in the Union was the only possible way of gaining access to benefits, and so they never attempted to change the existing system.

However, from the way the Union voted, it is also clear that rank-and-file members attempted to gain further benefits by not antagonising the communist authorities which seemed to be accepted by the majority of Union members.

The Party-state was also aware of the importance of issues concerning daily life for ZLP members. However, the authorities responsible for establishing the system of benefits and privileges used them to try to exert greater control over the Union and its members. The Party-state developed a tactical approach to these issues based on promises that they would be fulfilled in exchange for ‘appropriate’ behaviour. Certain demands on the part of literary circles such as the value of stipends and social aid, pensions, and the rates for publishing, were used as bargaining chips. Putrament admitted in his diaries that he used this tactic not only at Executive Board meetings and congresses, but also in the day-to-day functioning of the Union. This included smaller personal requests as well as demands by the whole of the ZLP.169

The Party-state also used the threat of losing benefits to keep Union members in line.

An example of this occurred in 1969, following protests against censorship in March

1968.170 During preparations for the 1969 Congress, which included voting for the

169 Putrament, Jerzy (1980) Pół wieku: Zmierzch tom VII [Half a Century: Dusk vol VII], Warszawa: Czytelnik, p: 124. 170 For details of the March events please see chapter The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 36-37.

102 congress delegates, KC PZPR implied that the Union might be dissolved because of the behaviour of the writers.171 As each writer’s livelihood and career was inextricably connected to membership in the Union, the voting process was carried out according to Party-state directions. The ‘opposition’ had virtually no representatives at the congress, which took place in a solemn atmosphere. Furthermore, during the congress a change to the Statute was introduced, allowing for the removal of a ZLP member because of ‘activities which are damaging to socialist culture’, which further strengthened the regime’s control.172 However, it has to be acknowledged that the relationship between the authorities and the Union was a vicious circle. The protests of

Union members caused the regime to attempt to tighten control which, in turn, caused further opposition against the level of control. Thus the Party-state never fully achieved its goal of exerting complete control over the Union. Even the 1969 Congress, which seemed like a defeat for oppositional writers, was only a prelude to the protests of the 1970s.

Conclusion

This chapter has provided an analysis of the system of dispensing benefits and privileges within the structures of the Polish Writers’ Union. It has analysed the ways in which benefits and privileges could be obtained. It has demonstrated that privileged access to material and non-material goods was based on a hierarchy which was inextricably linked to the fame of each writer, their position within governing Union structures or their connections to Party-state officials.

171 Fik, p: 80. 172 Ibid, p: 79.

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This analysis has led to an investigation of the ways in which the regime attempted to exert control over the ZLP through its dual use of the system of benefits and privileges.

As has been demonstrated, the Party-state strove to tighten control over the Union, mainly at times of protest. The manipulation of the voting process in 1969, involving the threat of dissolving the Union, suggests that the use of the benefits system as a tool to ensure obedience was successful, but only to a certain extent.

As the regime also used the system of benefits to court prominent writers and get them to help with its own legitimisation process, this permitted them a certain level of autonomy. Dąbrowska not only acquired great privileges over the years but also enjoyed a degree of immunity with regards to state repression, despite her oppositional views. Furthermore, granting privileges to renowned writers and putting them in charge of periodicals and publishing houses made it possible for those prominent members to provide unofficial support to their rank-and-file counterparts, a point which is illustrated by the example of the publishing house Czytelnik. This chapter, then, has demonstrated that the state policy of overtly using the most renowned writers for the purposes of propaganda carried risks. It was used on the one hand by the writers to gain a wider range of privileges and secure their positions, and on the other hand to help writers in the lower echelons of the Union.

Thus the possibility of protests, the public expression of views which opposed the

Party-line, and the manipulation of the system of benefits, makes it possible to challenge the view that the Party-state exerted total control over the Union and its members, and points instead to some level of Union agency. Indeed, the Party-state attempted to make the Union a channel for top-down directives, but the level of

104 opposition suggests that it was not completely successful. The regime was forced to provide greater concessions, so creating a highly privileged group within the ZLP.

Firstly, members of the higher echelons of the Union felt secure enough in their positions to support and participate in protest actions. If a writer was subject to state repression, his or her public status would be elevated, and often there would be increased support both from literary circles and from the general public. Secondly, the discrepancies in access to benefits among different strata of the ZLP caused constant tensions and accusations on the part of rank-and-file members.

Despite the limited possibilities of voicing these accusations on a day-to-day basis, grievances regarding ‘Warsaw-centrism’ with regards to travel, publishing and housing were regularly discussed at congresses, where open criticism was expressed. The

Union officials, although they were the privileged group, made serious attempts to rectify the feelings of inferiority amongst members in the lower echelons of the Union and its Regional Branches. Notably, the rank-and-file members did not attempt to change the system by which benefits and privileges were dispensed; they just tried to gain wider access to them.

This could suggest that the majority of Union members prioritised material rewards in their decision-making processes and functioned within the regime to gain financial security. However, as this chapter has demonstrated, the motivations of writers were far more complex, and adaptation to the existing situation did not exclude protests and opposition. Rather, adaptation was a means to gain further agency within the existing system. Financial security added to the levels of agency, as someone who is

105 financially secure is, at least to some extent, more likely to participate in an oppositional action despite the risk of repression and temporarily diminished earnings.

Thus, most importantly, by analysing the informal means of exerting control over the

Union, this chapter has challenged the notion of a dichotomy, put forward by some scholars, between a passive intelligentsia and a repressive regime. It has also demonstrated the interdependencies between the Party-state and representatives of the creative professions. It has evaluated the regime’s attitude towards the intelligentsia as a whole and its individual members, arguing that their relations were based on reciprocal need. The Party-state needed writers to legitimise the communist regime and elevate the status of the Writers’ Union, and the writers needed the security of Union membership in order to live and create in civilised conditions.

Creative conditions were also inextricably linked to the censorship issue. Thus, apart from the issues of daily life and livelihood, the censorship system was one of the most contentious aspects of living and working under the communist regime. The next chapter will analyse this aspect of the writing profession, demonstrating that even in a restrictive political system, writers were able to retain some level of agency and could also count on some level of regime leniency.

106

Chapter 3: Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz at the Helm: Two

Presidencies Compared

Introduction

This chapter provides an analysis of two distinct presidencies of the Polish Writers’

Union during the Gomułka era. It will address two questions. Firstly, which of these men was more effective in achieving his presidential goals and gaining more agency for the Polish Writers’ Union? Secondly, what approaches did the two presidents take in order to achieve their goals, and which proved to be the more effective?

‘Effectiveness’ is understood here to mean the Presidents’ ability to achieve the goals which they explicitly set for themselves while they were leading the Union. The chapter’s focus on individuals offers a specific perspective on the issue of agency which is central to this thesis. The two writers who led the Union in the Gomułka period were

Antoni Słonimski and Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz. The chapter focuses on how these individuals mediated between the state and Union members and thereby influenced the dynamics of the power-culture relationship under communist rule.

This study makes use of two types of primary source. Firstly, it examines personal material: the memoirs of Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz,173 the diaries of other members of the Union, and personal correspondence between literary figures.174 Secondly, it

173 Słonimski, Antoni (1989) Alfabet wspomnień [Alphabet of Memories], Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy; Iwaszkiewicz, Jarosław (2007) Dzienniki 1911-1955 [Diaries 1911-1955], Warszawa: Czytelnik; (2010) Dzienniki 1956-1963 [Diaries 1956-1963], Warszawa: Czytelnik; (2011) Dzienniki 1964- 1980 [Diaries 1964-1980], Warszawa: Czytelnik. 174 Putrament, Jerzy (1980) Pół wieku: Poślizg [Half a Century: A skid], Warszawa: Czytelnik; Dąbrowska, Maria (1997) Dzienniki powojenne tom III [Post-war Diaries vol III], Warszawa: Czytelnik; Kowalska, Anna (2008) Dzienniki 1927-1969 [Diaries 1927-1969], Warszawa: Iskry; Kisielewski, Stefan (2001) Dzienniki [Diaries], Warszawa: Iskry; Rakowski, Mieczysław (1999) Dzienniki polityczne 1963-1966 [Political Diaries 1963-1966], Warszawa: Iskry; Synoradzka, Anna (1997) Andrzejewski [Andrzejewski ], Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie; Habielski, Rafał (1990) Z listów do Mieczysława Grydzewskiego 1946-1966

107 draws on documents from the Polish Writers’ Union’s Archives relating to plenary congresses and meetings of the Executive Board during the Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz presidencies.

Diaries kept by Union members provide an insight into the atmosphere behind the scenes. As the political context at the time did not encourage freedom of expression and there was the threat of some level of repression against those who publicly voiced opinions critical of the regime, keeping a personal diary became a way of expressing personal convictions and opinions for some literary figures. The diaries of rank-and-file members were not available to this author, as diaries of this kind have not been published. When the publication of personal diaries from the communist period became possible, commercial publishers understandably preferred to print those by well-known cultural figures. The diaries of 'ordinary' citizens are of great interest to scholars, but it is difficult to procure such documents. Occasionally they have been discovered in archival holdings, and have proved to be an important source for the study of subjectivity amongst citizens of communist states.175 However, the scope of this particular study, combined with time constraints, have not allowed this author to engage in such research. Instead, the study makes use of the available published diaries as a source of insiders' accounts of how, in a certain political context, each of the Presidents was chosen for the post. Furthermore, these diaries reveal personal

[From the Letters to Mieczysław Grydzewski 1946-1966], Londyn: Polonia; Toruńczyk, Barbara (2011) Czesław Miłosz/Konstanty Jeleński „Korespondencja” [Czesław Miłosz/Konstanty Jeleński „Correspondance”], Warszawa: Zeszyty Literackie; Toruńczyk, Barbara and Robert Papieski (2011) Czesław Miłosz/Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz „Portret Podwójny” [Czesław Miłosz/Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz „Double Portreit”], Warszawa: Zeszyty Literackie. 175 See, for example, Hellbeck, Jochen (2006) Revolution on my Mind: Writing a Diary under Stalin, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

108 opinions about the two Union leaders which are vital for this analysis. This researcher is alert to the fact that the use of memoirs is not without its problems; memory is fallible and, at times, authors articulate narratives which justify their own actions. This is accounted for in how this source is utilized.

This chapter also draws on secondary sources, such as biographies of the two Union

Presidents,176 monographs about the literary output of both Presidents, and monographs relating to the Polish Writers’ Union and the Union of Soviet Writers.177 I also refer to the Polish press of the time, in order to demonstrate the opinions of the regime regarding the two Union leaders, as well as the Presidents’ own statements about themselves which appeared in press interviews. These primary and secondary sources shed light on the historical and political contexts which influenced changes in the cultural sphere. The chapter investigates the ways in which the presidents’ approaches impacted on the decision-making processes within the Union, while taking into account the changing political and historical contexts of the time. The Polish press is used with caution, since it was under state control and often used as a tool of

176 Kuciel-Frydryszak, Joanna (2012) Słonimski: Heretyk na ambonie [Słonimski: Heretic on a pulpit], Warszawa: W.A.B; Kumaniecka, Janina (2003) Saga rodu Słonimskich [Słonimski Family Saga], Warszawa: Iskry; Radziwon, Marek (2010) Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz: Pisarz po katastrofie [Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz: Post- catastrophy writer], Warszawa: W.A.B.; Zawada, Andrzej (1994) Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz [Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz], Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna; 177 Sandauer, Artur (1955) Poeci trzech pokoleń [Three Generations of Poets], Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy; Rokicki, Konrad (2011) Literaci. Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956-1970 [Writers. Relations between the writers and the authorities of the People's Republic of Poland 1956-1970], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; Wojtczak, Mieczysław (2014) Wielką i mniejszą literą: Literatura i polityka w pierwszym ćwierćwieczu PRL [With Big and Smaller Letter: Literature and politics in the first 25 years of the Polish People's Republic], Warszawa: EMKA; Czarnik, Stanisław Oskar (1993) Między dwoma sierpniami. Polska kultura literacka w latach 1944-1980 [Between two Augusts. Polish literary culture 1944-1980], Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna; Garrard, John and Carol Garrard (1990) Inside the Soviet Writers’ Union, London and New York: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd.

109 propaganda. However, this work uses factual information obtained from the press after comparing it with information available from other sources.

The analysis of both Słonimski’s and Iwaszkiewicz’s presidencies makes it possible to demonstrate the specificity of the Polish context by drawing attention to specific differences between the Union of Soviet Writers and the Polish Writers’ Union. The more liberal situation in Poland allowed for the election of Presidents who were more willing to deviate from the established Party line, thus reinforcing the specific Polish context and further influencing culture and power relations.

In order to analyse the effectiveness of Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz, this chapter outlines the goals of the respective Presidents, as it is against these goals that their effectiveness will be evaluated. It also investigates their common beginnings as writers, and the political views which influenced their work in the Polish Writers’

Union. While taking into account the political context during the respective presidential terms, as well as the expectations of rank-and-file members of the Union, the chapter also acknowledges the role which individual personalities played in advancing the Union’s demands and influencing the actions of Union members.

Słonimski was in charge of the ZLP between 1956 and 1959, which means that he was elected to the presidency on the wave of the Thaw.178 In the less restrictive atmosphere following Nikita Khrushchev’s ‘Secret Speech’ in February 1956, it was inevitable that there would be personnel changes in many important cultural and political posts. Władysław Gomułka, who was released from jail under the new

178 For details of the cultural and political situation in Poland at the time, please see chapter The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship.

110 political liberalisation, became the First Secretary of the Communist Party. Similarly, major changes within the ZLP were approaching. Furthermore, the political atmosphere and general social unrest caused the Party-state to loosen restrictions and allow some political concessions.

When Słonimski was elected to the presidency, his goals were in keeping with the atmosphere of hope that the Thaw would bring permanent changes to the functioning of the regime. Słonimski aimed to resurrect the professional role the Union had enjoyed before the war, with its focus on the livelihoods of writers, while reducing its ideological role.179 This was reflected in the Union’s demand that the state should no longer exert direct or indirect interference in the creative process and literary output.

Słonimski set out the Union’s goals: ‘the role of the Union should focus on defending moral and financial issues. By moral issues, I mean freedom of speech’.180 Issues concerning writers’ livelihoods focused mainly on securing pensions for writers and increasing payments for publications.181

Słonimski was the Union’s leader for only three years. The political context in Poland changed quite quickly and by 1959 it had become obvious that the Thaw did not bring about significant long-term reform. In fact, from 1957 onwards, restrictions started increasing and the Party-state leadership started to regain control. By the time

Iwaszkiewicz became President, it was clear that focusing on censorship and freedom

179 Woźniakowski, Krzysztof (1990) Między ubezwłasnowolnieniem a opozycją. ZLP w latach 1949–1959 [Between Incapacitation and Opposition. The Polish Writers’ Union 1949-1959], Kraków: Uniwersytet Jagielloński, p: 102. 180 Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 226. 181 Fik, Marta (1989) Kultura polska po Jałcie 1944-1981 [Polish Culture Post-Yalta 1944-1981], London: Polonia, p: 264-265.

111 of speech would antagonise the authorities still further and diminish the chances of advancing the Union's demands with regards to financial issues.

As Iwaszkiewicz was elected to the post during the 1959 Congress, the main goals put forward by the Union were reflected in the conclusions reached by the Congress.182

These goals pertained only to financial issues. Iwaszkiewicz was to focus on a new

Authors’ Convention which was to raise writers’ pay for new publications and re-prints.

Another vital goal was to obtain legal status for the writing profession, because, if this was secured, it would be possible to negotiate pensions for all Union members. This goal was very important as only members of legally recognised professions were entitled to pensions, which left the majority of writers worried about their futures.

When in 1949 the ZLP became a ‘creative union’, thus losing its trade union status, writers no longer had the same access to state-provided benefits, such as pensions and social aid, as members of legally recognised professions.183 Another financial issue which the Union and its new president took up was the push for social insurance for all

Union members, which would allow them to obtain social aid in the case of illness which rendered them unable to write.

Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz faced different political contexts when they began their respective presidencies. Relaxation of political restrictions during the Thaw encouraged the articulation of goals which could be construed as political, especially from the regime’s point of view. By 1959, the revival of restrictions did not allow for such far-reaching goals. However, it has to be acknowledged that the goals of both

182 Wnioski X Zjazdu Delegatów ZLP, 1959 [Conclusions of the X Congress of the Polish Writers’ Union, 1959], pp: 7-8. 183 For more details on the change in the Union’s status, please see chapter: Comparative Analysis of the Union of Polish Writers’ Statutes, p: 2.

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Presidents were not only a response to broader political circumstances, but also to pressure from rank-and-file members. The personality of the prospective President, which impacted on the ways they chose to mediate between the Union and the Party- state, also played a role in the election process. The level of control over the ZLP would change in accordance with the political context, and the needs of rank-and-file members would change accordingly. Thus, top-down and bottom-up expectations influenced the election process and resulted in the choice of a person who could possibly meet the expectations of both sides. The approaches of both Słonimski and

Iwaszkiewicz to running the Union were influenced by the political conditions at the time and, to an extent, had their roots in the men’s past experiences.

Common beginnings

Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz were both born at the turn of the twentieth century. They witnessed Poland regain independence in 1918, they survived the Second World War, and they lived through the post-war changes implemented under Soviet control. By the time each of them was elected to presidency in the 1950s, they were famous writers in their own right and their attitudes were already formed. However, just as their childhoods and experiences were very different, so were their views on the world. They began their Warsaw literary friendship and rivalry in the literary group

Skamander. Słonimski’s early works, such as the novel Teatr w Więzieniu (Theatre in

Prison), which was published in the early 1920s, were pessimistic and raised questions about the meaning of human existence, of loss and of being lost. However, since both writers lived long lives and experienced tragic and world changing events, their views and attitudes changed over time. Some of the influences on Słonimski’s life also had a

113 major impact on his personality and convictions. One of them was a British writer,

Herbert George Wells, whom Słonimski finally met in 1934.184 Another was his father, a well-known Warsaw doctor.185

Słonimski’s rationalist approach to life and his belief that science and reason would prevail were the result of his upbringing and his fascination with Wells’ works.

Słonimski, writing within the context of growing fascism, believed that the equality between people which was espoused by socialism could create the kind of world he imagined, with no borders, no wars and no dominant ideology. In 1937, Słonimski gave a speech at the PEN Club congress in Paris in which he strongly criticised the state of literature in Germany and the Soviet Union. His conclusion was bold and uncompromising, just like Słonimski himself: he finished his speech with the declaration that ‘there is no poetry in totalitarian states’.186 This statement was clearly an expression of his opposition to the regimes’ use of literature for the purpose of propaganda.

His opposition to the politicization of literature – that is, the political authorities’ attempt to use literature as a direct tool to achieve their own goals - remained unchanged throughout his life. Despite the fact that his attitudes were formed during the 1920s and 1930s, some of his opinions never changed. These were the most important of his views, as they shaped his literary output and social behaviour as a

Union member and leader. Feuilletons written by Słonimski for the literary journal

Wiadomości Literackie [Literary News], published during the inter-war years, touch

184 Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 66. 185 Kumaniecka, p: 219. 186 Słonimski, Antoni (2004) Kroniki tygodniowe 1936-1939 [Weekly Chronicles 1936-1939], Łomianki: LTW, p: 181.

114 upon various issues regarding the relationship between culture and power. One of the main topics of his writing was government interference in the sphere of culture, and the use of the arts as the government’s ideological and political tool.187 He was always a merciless literary critic and loved the attention his literary criticism received;188 he acknowledged that public opinion was very important to him.

Słonimski, had another vital characteristic which was perhaps the thing most representative of his public position. He once gave an interview in which he said:

‘Everything I do is a fight. I fight for the control of thought over passion. I believe in an image of the world which is possible to achieve. Through my work I attempt to make it possible’.189 The vital point in this statement is that Słonimski was a fighter: for the cause, for change, and to get attention. It was his main trait both in his later career and in his role in the ZLP. His uncompromising stance and his readiness for a verbal battle led not only to mounting conflict with the authorities, resulting in a lack of progress on

Union demands, but also with other members of the Union. Słonimski’s role was thus very different from that which Iwaszkiewicz was to play in the Writers’ Union.

Iwaszkiewicz was on the other side of the spectrum: he appeared to be composed in a public setting and carefully calculating the consequences of his actions. His views were reportedly influenced by his family history. His father, Bolesław Iwaszkiewicz, was arrested during the uprising of 1863 against Imperial Russia.190 As a consequence, he was not allowed to complete his university education. This changed the family’s

187 Szpakowska, Małgorzata (2012) Wiadomości Literackie prawie dla wszystkich [Literary News Almost for Everyone], Warszawa: W.A.B., p: 46. 188 Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 74. 189 Galis, Adam (1935) ‘Oko w oko z Antonim Słonimskim’ [Face to Face with Antoni Słonimski], Wiadomości Literackie [Literary News], p: 28. 190 Radziwon, p: 19.

115 prospects, and they struggled financially throughout the future writer’s childhood. The myth of martyrdom which hung over the family, especially the belief that other members of the family suffered far greater consequences than the father himself for his participation in the uprising, changed the author’s attitude to big romantic sacrifices for the cause. To Iwaszkiewicz, the possibility of changing history by means of individual actions and fighting against a more powerful force was not feasible. One of the reviews of his historical novel tried to distil his message as follows: ‘all human effort is pointless, the wheels of history will turn regardless of what we do’.191

Iwaszkiewicz’s lack of belief in the possibility of changing history through the sacrifice of lives remained unchanged. It appears to have been further strengthened by his experiences of the failed defence of September 1939 and the atrocities of the war.

Kazimierz Wyka, a Union member, commented on Iwaszkiewicz’s literary output in the

1940s: ‘I do not know, in our literature and among foreign works, a work in which doubting the sense of history took such a tragic and alarming expression’.192

Witnessing the deaths of his friends during the war and in the Warsaw uprising in 1944 only contributed to the convictions he had already formed. It can be argued that his later actions as President of the Union, when he attempted to manoeuvre between the demands of the authorities and Union members in order to gain as much as possible within the existing political system, were, at least in some respect, influenced by his past experiences.

191 Wasilewski, Andrzej (1948) ‘Poemat historiozoficzny’ [Historiosophical Poem], Twórczość [Creativity], 28: 101. 192 Taken from: Zawada, p: 206.

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Meanwhile, Słonimski spent the war years abroad, mainly in London. He returned to

Poland in 1951. To an extent, he was forced to come back by circumstances. His limited command of English was an obstacle to continuing his professional activities as a writer, an issue of importance for him. Słonimski worked for UNESCO, which isolated him from his émigré friends since his candidacy to the post of Head of the Literature

Department was approved by the Warsaw government.193 Furthermore, at the end of the 1940s he worked for the Polish Institute of Culture in London which had been established by the Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs to promote Polish culture abroad.

However, following accusations that he was not complying with the ideological demands of his post, he lost his position in 1950.194 A year later he returned to

Warsaw, where Iwaszkiewicz was now a well-established writer, had already held the post of the Union President twice, from 1945-1946 to 1947-1949, and was surrounded by friends from literary circles.195

As Iwaszkiewicz had remained in Poland during the war, he was a part of the changing political, cultural and historical contexts. Under occupation, he was in charge of the group responsible for members of the writing profession. This gave him responsibility for dispensing the funds provided by the Polish Underground State (Polskie Państwo

Podziemne-PPP) to writers who were most in need.196 Furthermore, he and his wife turned their home in Stawisko, near Warsaw, into a place of refuge. Throughout the war, Stawisko provided a hiding place for Jewish people who could count on shelter

193 Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 190. 194 Ibid, pp: 197-198. 195 Radziwon, p: 198. 196 Synoradzka, p: 53.

117 and Iwaszkiewicz’s help with obtaining fake documents and financial aid.197 Thus

Iwaszkiewicz became a ‘writer-institution’ for many who knew him.

When Słonimski returned to Poland in 1951, he was faced with a reversal of roles between his old friend and himself. In 1918, Iwaszkiewicz had come to Warsaw and met Słonimski, who was then a rising star in literary circles in Poland. Słonimski introduced him to his friends and involved him in the literary scene while retaining his own superior position. After the war, Iwaszkiewicz was the centre of attention and was held in high esteem by his fellow writers. Słonimski must have found this hard to accept. He felt defeated, as he had not been able to achieve success during his time abroad and, upon his return, he realised that he had lost his former status of a literary leader in Poland. However, Słonimski slowly started to find his feet in the new situation, regained his confidence, and became leader of the Warsaw Branch of the

Union between 1953 and 1955.198

In the early 1950s, both writers attempted to assert their positions within the literary circles. Due to the repressive atmosphere of the Stalinist period they cooperated with the regime, while attempting to minimise this cooperation as much as possible.

Iwaszkiewicz was more connected to the governing structures because he held posts in various state organisations, being, for example, a long-term non-Party Member of

Parliament. However, both writers attempted to protect their literary output by not engaging in servile writing for the purposes of the regime’s propaganda. This was one of the reasons why their election to the presidency was possible, since Union members

197 Radziwon, pp: 159-163. 198 Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 215.

118 could, on balance, positively view their previous behaviour and held both writers in esteem. Since the elections were influenced by the political context of the time,

Słonimski’s uncompromising style made him a perfect candidate for the Presidency during the Thaw.

Słonimski – a rebel with a cause?

Słonimski’s effectiveness in achieving Union goals is inextricably connected both to his attitudes and to the political context at the time of his election and his term as

President. Since Stalin’s death in 1953, the political situation in the Soviet Union began to change, and this had repercussions for the entire Soviet bloc.199 Already in the spring of 1956, Jerzy Putrament, a loyal supporter of the regime who had held several important posts within the governing structures of the Union and the Primary Party

Organisation (POP), believed that Słonimski would become the new Union

President.200 Putrament, who had very close ties with the political establishment, had a good grasp of political issues. He was aware that in this changing political situation,

Słonimski would be backed by the majority of Union members because of his well- known support for the independence of the arts from the dominant ideology, because he was recognised as a talented writer, and because of his position as leader of the

Warsaw branch.

199 For events leading to the Polish October, please see chapter The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 4-6. 200 Putrament, p: 69.

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It also seems likely that during the turmoil of the 1956 political changes, the Party- state simply could not retain the same level of control over the Union, and that this made Słonimski’s election possible. Arguably, it put Putrament in charge of the POP in order to influence the outcome of the elections. However, due to the authorities’ diminished level of control and the more liberal atmosphere within society, they failed to stop the election of a prominent liberal to the post. It also seems likely that the authorities could not have foreseen that Słonimski, who had spent the early 1950s away from the political scene, would become so vocal in his expression of dissatisfaction with censorship, and so challenging of the regime.

After Słonimski’s election, the famous writer Maria Dąbrowska discussed in her diary the profile of the new President, and said she was ‘not sure if he will be a suitable president, but he will be brave and will not agree to any shady deals’.201 An examination of Słonimski’s presidency echoes the reservations expressed by

Dąbrowska, while confirming that Słonimski was not inclined to make significant compromises. He started his three-year term with regular visits to the Minister of

Culture and Arts and spent the first year attempting to discuss censorship issues. There were also attempts to advance the Union’s demands concerning its members’ livelihoods. However, the report from the Executive Board which was presented at the

Congress in 1958 clearly demonstrates that the authorities were not willing to meet the needs of Union members. In his own statement, Słonimski reported on meetings he had held with representatives of government organs and on the unsuccessful negotiations which had ensued, as the authorities kept deferring talks or simply

201 Dąbrowska, vol III, p: 194.

120 refused to attend further meetings.202 It can be assumed that the lack of cooperation on the part of the regime was, at least in part, a response to Słonimski’s actions as the

Union leader, particularly his vocal stance against the regime’s publishing policies.

Słonimski soon realised that if he did not play according to the rules, he would be unable to achieve anything. His vocal criticism of censorship antagonised the authorities and resulted in a lack of dialogue between politicians and the Executive

Board of the ZLP.203 Słonimski also expressed his unwillingness to follow the expected rules of conduct on the international stage, and this was even harder for the regime to accept. For example, in 1958 he officially congratulated the famous Russian writer

Boris Pasternak on receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, despite the official Soviet campaign against Pasternak which resulted in Pasternak renouncing the award.

Słonimski then took part in a television interview in the United States in which he declared that he had congratulated Pasternak in his role as Union official, not as an individual. He added that he saw it as ‘our (the Union’s) duty to congratulate the winner’.204 This was a bold move, as it explicitly challenged Moscow’s position. The actions of the leadership of the Soviet Writers’ Union underscores the significance of

Słonimski’s position. His Soviet counterpart, Aleksei Surkov, not only condemned

Pasternak, but reportedly actively encouraged the Soviet government’s campaign against Pasternak.205

During his presidency, Słonimski defended Polish dissident writers, such as Marek

Hłasko, who were threatened with repressions, as well as making determined attempts

202 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], pp: 37-38. 203 Rokicki, pp: 173-174. 204 Taken from Kuciel-Frydryszak, p: 236. 205 Garrard and Garrard, pp: 139-140.

121 to publish previously forbidden works.206 Despite growing restrictions, it seems that the political situation in Poland was more liberal than in the USSR, or at least had a more tolerant attitude about the expression of discontent with the regime than was the case in the Soviet Union. In the Polish political context, it was possible to elect a liberal writer as leader of the Union who was clearly opposed to Party-line politics.

The repression of those who stepped out of line was less drastic than in the Soviet

Union, and not always immediate. Słonimski was subjected to some repression himself, as censors forced the removal of one of his works from bookstores, and the authorities took steps to influence the elections of 1959. As these repressions were implemented towards the end of 1959, just before the upcoming Congress and the presidential elections, it seems that they were not the response to a single action such as congratulating Pasternak. More likely, it was part of the regime’s tactical plan to change the approach to the presidency. Repression, attempts to influence the upcoming elections, and the continued refusal to advance any of the Union’s issues concerning members’ financial situations, created an atmosphere in which changing the Union’s leader became inevitable. Nonetheless, it seems that the level of control over the ZLP was smaller than that exerted over the Union of Soviet Writers at the same time. Furthermore, the elections held at the 1956 Congress were not really under Party control; this made it possible to elect Słonimski to the post of President since the lack of control made it possible to vote for people who were not on the

Party’s approved list of candidates.207

206 Rokicki, p: 128 207 Wojtczak, p: 458.

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Despite the more relaxed atmosphere and some leniency towards the Union and its

President, Słonimski’s fate was pre-determined. An anonymous note in the report from the proceedings of the January 1959 meeting of the Political Bureau of the

Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party (Komitet Centralny Polskiej

Zjednoczonej Partii Robotniczej-KC PZPR), stated that the POP should ensure

Słonimski’s removal from the post.208 This suggests that his behaviour was no longer acceptable to the regime. Słonimski’s vocal stand against censorship, which he described as ‘damaging’ and ‘incongruent with our conscience and impossible to accept’, attracted some support from Union members and, at the same time, created a conflict between the intelligentsia and the authorities.209 Słonimski’s presidency was short-lived, and he failed to achieve any of his original goals. His inability to mediate between the expectations of rank-and-file members on the one hand and the authorities on the other, and to successfully promote the financial needs of the institution he was running, seems to suggest that Słonimski’s effectiveness was minimal.

The question of Słonimski’s agency in changing the cultural landscape and influencing the actions of Union members is multifaceted and directly connected to his clearly oppositional views which he expressed vocally as President and, later, as a Union member. The effects of his actions on addressing Union members’ immediate needs were minimal, and the Union did not have much influence on cultural policies during

208 Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia, p: 74. 209 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], p: 158. For details of censorship issues between 1956 and 1959 please see chapter The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 7-15.

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Słonimski’s term. Yet, the influence of Słonimski on the Union’s agency in shaping the cultural field should also be examined with regards to long-term effects. Already during his term as President, he had become the centre of the oppositional group.

After losing his post, he continued in the informal role of opposition leader and a vocal opponent of the regime’s cultural policies. Słonimski instigated and led major intelligentsia protests in 1964 and 1968.210 The protest against censorship which he organized in 1964 started a new form of open opposition. Słonimski’s role in creating the opposition faction in the late 1950s and 1960s cannot be underestimated. It could be argued that, to some extent, it gave rise to protests and opposition in the 1970s which, combined with the emergence of underground printing projects, had serious repercussions in the 1980s. The repercussions were twofold. Firstly, the Union was suspended in 1981 and disbanded two years later. It was brought back into being later that same year, but the terms of membership were changed so that only those writers whose views were acceptable to the authorities would be admitted.

At the same time, because of the growing underground printing opportunities, major national protests by various social and professional groups, and the drastically changing political context during the 1980s, the Union was no longer such a vital stage for the expression of dissenting views. The continuation of protests against censorship which began in the 1960s resulted in the creation of a Press Law in 1981, which had been one of the resolutions of the 1956 Congress and hence one of Słonimski’s aims as

President: he had called for the introduction of a Press Law which would set out the

210 For details, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship. Please also see: Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN; Eisler, Jerzy (1991) Marzec 1968 [March 1968], Warszawa: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe.

124 legal responsibility of writers and editors.211 Although the Press Law came into being after his death, and more than two decades after his term as President, Słonimski’s actions and stance contributed to bringing it about eventually.

However, Union members generally expect more rapid results from a newly elected leader. During his term in office, Słonimski did not fulfil any of the Union’s professed goals. Through his constant criticism of the regime’s policies and his focus on the abolition of censorship, he and his supporters antagonised the authorities, to the extent that soon after his election they tightened control over the Union. Party officials sent clear signals that as long as Słonimski and his circle kept on using the Union as a forum for the expression of controversial political views against censorship and publishing policies, none of the financial demands would be considered.212 Słonimski remained a vocal opponent of Party policies and, therefore, in 1959 the Union lost control over the Literature Fund.213 This meant that the Union had less agency over its financial situation, and lost the opportunity to publish the Union’s self-funded journal. Overseeing the Literature Fund had been one of the achievements of the

Thaw, as the Union only managed to gain control over the Fund in 1956. It is understandable that to Słonimski and some other writers, freedom of speech and the abolition of censorship were core professional issues. Indeed, writers need to be able to express themselves freely if they want to create long-lasting works. However, as censorship was one of the foundations of the regime, it was inevitable that the Party- state would treat attempts to abolish it as an attack on the political system.

211 Kryński, Magnus (1957) ‘A Postscript to "Poland's Literary Thaw’, The Polish Review 2(1), p: 97. 212 Rokicki, p: 173. 213 Rokicki, p: 169.

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An examination of Słonimski’s protests demonstrates that the oppositional group who supported him consisted mostly of well-established writers with access to various earning opportunities and to whom a ban on publication of their works would not result in the loss of their means to survive. This is not to say that the regime was unable or unwilling to restrict their earning opportunities. However, most prominent literary figures could count on privileged treatment and some leniency with regards to repression, since the authorities made use of renowned writers to provide legitimacy for the regime.214

As President of the Union, Słonimski was the helmsman for a large number of writers, the majority of whom depended on financial aid provided by the government through the Union’s funding schemes. It can be assumed that his protest actions would bring him respect and moral support from the group of Union members who participated in the protests with him; but the majority of Union members were critical judges of his presidency and effectiveness. For example, according to writer Anna Kowalska, who had voted for Słonimski a year earlier, he was considered by some to be ‘conceited, smug, proud, a snob and a useless president whom no one wants to defend’. 215

Kowalska was the partner of Dąbrowska, and both of them had views which were similar to those of Słonimski. Yet, this was not enough for Kowalska to support

Słonimski‘s approach to performing his presidential role. Stefan Kisielewski, a fellow protester from 1968 and himself a famous writer, also accused Słonimski of failing as

President due to his ‘lack of discernment’ and his ‘minding only his own interests’.216

214 For more details, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union: The system of benefits and privileges. 215 Kowalska, p: 310. 216 Kisielewski, p: 872.

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Słonimski, however, claimed in 1958 that he saw himself as a ‘rioter’, and that ‘now it pays off and is useful for something’.217

Słonimski, then, seems to have believed in the politics of confrontation. Did he really think that such far-reaching changes as the abolition of censorship were possible at that time? His focus as the Union leader marginalised the needs of rank-and-file members as well as writers from Regional Branches, where governmental financial support was most needed. Because of his inflammatory approach to dealing with the authorities, he did not achieve the goal of democratising publishing policies, and also squandered any possibility of improving the financial situations of all Union members.

It would seem that some Union members thought that in order to advance their financial demands they needed a leader who would negotiate with the authorities.

The authorities were aware that if they were to remove Słonimski from his post, they would have to ensure that a suitable alternative candidate would be put forward. This candidate had to be approved by the Party but also had to appeal to Union members with oppositional views. When Słonimski lost the trust both of many former supporters and of the authorities, the 1959 Congress brought Iwaszkiewicz to power.

Iwaszkiewicz – the voice of reason?

Before the Congress and elections for the new Union President took place, in

December 1959, the authorities, members of the Union and Słonimski knew that change was coming. Since Iwaszkiewicz was on a long trip abroad both before and during the Congress, the elections took place in his absence. Despite his non-

217 Habielski, p: 83.

127 attendance, Iwaszkiewicz’s reputation as an author, his actions during the war, and the fact that he had already been Union President twice before, made him a suitable candidate to Union members. The Party-state leadership was also ready to accept his candidacy because of his ties to governing structures and the fact that he was willing to compromise with the authorities in order to improve the situation for literary circles.218 His ability to compromise also appealed to Union members, who had witnessed the deterioration of their work and financial conditions during Słonimski’s term.

Negotiations regarding the elections took place before the Congress. As Iwaszkiewicz was away, Putrament took on the role of mediator between the new candidate and the authorities. Putrament reported on a telephone conversation between himself and

Iwaszkiewicz in which the details of the nomination were agreed on.219 Iwaszkiewicz apparently only agreed to be put forward if this would be supported by the current

Executive Board and Słonimski himself. Putrament’s interest in becoming the mediator was partly prompted by his desire to become Vice-President of the ZLP.220 It is clear, then, that attempts to create a new Board which would consist of members representing different political views started long before the elections. In behind-the- scenes negotiations, Słonimski and the Executive Board agreed to promote

Iwaszkiewicz’s candidacy.221 Outside of the official realm of work, Słonimski and ‘his group’ of like-minded writers also agreed to accept Iwaszkiewicz as their candidate.222

218 Nasiłkowska, Anna (1994) Sporne postaci polskiej literatury współczesnej [Contentious Characters of Polish Contemporary Literature], Warszawa: Instytut Badań Literackich, p: 163. 219 Rokicki, p: 177. 220 Radziwon, p: 370. 221 Protokół Nr 14 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 25/11/1959 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 14 25/11/1959], p: 57. 222 Kowalska, p: 342.

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It seems that all sides were aware that the political situation had changed and that there was no chance of repeating the outcome of 1956, when predominantly

‘oppositional’ writers dominated the Board. In December 1959, the forces in the newly elected Board were split fairly evenly.223 Thus began the long reign of Iwaszkiewicz, which lasted until his death in 1980.

At the beginning of 1960, the Secretariat of the Central Committee of the PZPR returned to the Union control of the Literature Fund, which it had lost following the controversial Congress of 1958. This was the first symbolic, as well as practical, success of Iwaszkiewicz’s presidency. The ability to dispense the funds without the authorities overseeing the process was very important for the ZLP, as it gave the Union a certain level of agency. Union goals regarding the adoption of a New Authors’ Convention, and the securing of legal status and pensions for Union members, also seemed to be slowly progressing. In 1960, Iwaszkiewicz met with Edward Ochab, the member of the

Politburo responsible for the sphere of culture, to discuss the possibility of a pay increase for published works, which was the most pressing issue of the Authors’

Convention. Iwaszkiewicz reported the results of this meeting to the Executive Board.

The Union did not expect the new Convention to be adopted in 1960 or even the next year.224 The authorities made promises on some of the points which Iwaszkiewicz was negotiating, but postponed the adoption of the new Convention. Putrament, as a member of the KC PZPR, had inside knowledge about the authorities’ position. Four months before the scheduled meeting with Ochab, Putrament warned the Board that

223 The Board consisted of five Union members who were also Party members, six non-Party Union members and three ‘oppositional’ writers, including Słonimski. 224 Protokół Nr 10 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 03/06/1960 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 10 03/06/1960], p: 37.

129 the Convention would not be adopted due to the state of the country’s economy. At the ZG meeting, he stated that: ‘Firstly, the people responsible (for decisions about the

Convention) do not want to have a meeting (with the Board), as they risk a sharp exchange of opinions. Secondly, the state of the economy is such that they cannot make any promises.”225 To some extent, the country’s economy could have been a valid reason for postponing the adoption of the Convention; the beginning of the

1960s was marked by paper shortages. However, it could be argued, as Putrament insinuated, that the authorities wanted to see how the relationship between the new

Board and themselves would evolve before granting any further concessions to the

Union and its members. This seems to be most plausible explanation, as the early

1960s witnessed growing restrictions on the cultural sphere and on publishing policies.226

Tension between the Union and the authorities grew when the latter placed Increasing constraints on the cultural sphere, limited the paper available for books and journals, imposed ever stricter censorship, and postponed the adoption of the new Convention.

The paper shortage triggered a yearly fall in the number of publications, the number of pages in journals, and the number of re-prints. This caused a loss of income for the majority of Union members. The tension escalated towards the end of 1963. The Board decided to cancel the annual Congress that year and proposed a special plenary meeting to take place in January 1964 instead.227 The meeting was to focus on

225 Stenogram z przebiegu obrad plenum Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 20/02/1960 [Stenographic record from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union 20/02/1960], p: 42. 226 For details on restrictions on the cultural sphere and issues regarding paper shortages, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship. 227 Protokół Nr 9 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 04/10/1963 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 9 04/10/1963], p: 101.

130 planning the 1964 Congress, which would celebrate the 20th anniversary of the creation of the Polish People’s Republic. Some Union members, under the leadership of Słonimski, contested this decision, as cancelling the Congress was against the Union

Statute.

It is possible that Iwaszkiewicz and members of the Board were playing for time.

Taking into account the atmosphere in the Union, there was a risk that the Congress could become a forum for exchanging views which were critical of the regime, as was the case during the Congress of 1958. As the long negotiations regarding writers’ pay were coming to an end, it is possible that Iwaszkiewicz was growing weary of antagonising the authorities. Furthermore, the Board was also finalising negotiations to secure financial aid from the Central Commission of the Trade Unions (CCTU).228

This would be beneficial, especially to members of Regional Branches, as the CCTU would provide earning opportunities for regional writers by introducing a scheme of literary meetings in factories. At the same time, the CCTU was to provide stipends to writers who were struggling financially. It is likely that if the Congress became a forum for criticism of the regime’s publishing policies, the Union would not be able to secure an increase in writers’ pay and a contract with the CCTU. The Board and Iwaszkiewicz would have to face delegates with no successes to report after four years of running the Union.

At the two-day special plenary meeting which took place on 17-18 January 1964, the

Board reported on four major issues. Iwaszkiewicz opened the meeting by saying that

228 Protokół Nr 12 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 13/12/1963 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 12 13/12/1963], p: 121.

131 the contract with CCTU was finalised, that the authorities had approved the conditions of the new Convention and that talks were taking place about the creation of an

Authors’ Fund.229 This Fund was to be financed from the sales of publications to which no one owned authors’ rights. This meant that the proceeds could be used by the

Union rather than publishing houses, thus extending the Union’s agency. Another of

Iwaszkiewicz’s successes was to ensure huge reprints of classics, despite the paper shortage.230 Already in 1961, the POP had presented a resolution to the Department of

Culture of the Central Committee of the PZPR asking for consideration of the consequences which would result from the lack of paper, and in particular, the limitations it placed on the volume of publications. The POP suggested that paper could be obtained by making savings in the administrative sector. The result was that the paper allowance was even more closely monitored by the authorities, without actually being changed.231 The paper shortage was discussed regularly at meetings of the Union’s Executive Board. The ZLP’s Publishing Committee worked out a plan for a nationwide action to engage school children in obtaining paper, encouraging them to collect paper for recycling with the purpose of making more paper available for the printing of literary works. According to the minutes of the ZG meetings, this proposition was rejected both by the authorities, and by the minister of Culture and

229 Stenogram z zebrania plenarnego Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 17-18/01/1964 [Stenographic record from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union 17- 18/01/1964], pp: 2-3. 230 Sprawozdanie za działalność Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 1963-1964 [Report from the functioning of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union 1963-1964]. 231 Rokicki, Konrad (2012) ‘„Język polski jest tak bogaty, giętka jest nasza mowa!” Podstawowa Organizacja Partyjna Oddziału Warszawskiego Związku Literatów Polskich i jej stosunek do polityki kierownictwa partyjnego w latach 1956–1970’ [„Polish is such a rich language, flexible is our talk!” Primary Party Organisation of the Polish Writers’ Union and its attitude towards the Party politics between 1956 and 1970], Pamięć i Sprawiedliwość [Remembrance and Justice] 11/1 (19), p: 145.

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Arts, Tadeusz Galiński.232 The same report mentions a discussion between the ZG members about the next step to be taken with regards to the paper issue. The plenum decided that the Union would start a large-scale action ‘in all available newspapers and journals which was to be aimed at defending the paper allowance for contemporary and classical literature, putting pressure on the public (…), so the issue of paper would be discussed in meetings of various departments’.233 The Party-state’s refusal to negotiate with the Union suggests that the regime used the contentious paper issue as a bargaining chip to keep writers in line, while at the same time limiting their earnings, since the Union was also demanding paper for the printing of contemporary literature.

Iwaszkiewicz’s ability to gain any concessions from the Party-state was something positive to report to Union members and made him seem more effective. As the communist regime valued classical literature and was keen to see classics published in large print runs, the Party-state attempted to ease growing tensions by allowing concessions which were already in their plan, which meant it would not lose out in negotiations. In addition, the issue of securing pensions, which also meant securing a legal status for writers, was still under consideration by the authorities. The achievement of another financial goal which would benefit all Union members seemed to be on track.

However, at the 1964 meeting, which was attended by a few hundred writers, the most vocal speakers did not focus on financial issues. Słonimski personally attacked

Iwaszkiewicz, refused to believe that the Convention would be officially adopted,

232 Protokół Nr 4 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 06/09/1963 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 4 06/09/1963], p: 30. 233 Ibid, p: 30.

133 accused him and the Board of illicit behaviour regarding the cancellation of the

Congress, and insisted that he had broken the rules of the Statute concerning its aim

‘to protect freedom of speech and freedom of creativity as well as defending the moral and financial interests of writers’.234 Słonimski was the most ferocious critic of

Iwaszkiewicz’s politics; most of the other speeches were more critical of the regime’s interventions within the cultural sphere, rather than of the incumbent Union president.

Iwaszkiewicz’s politics of compromise seemed to bring attainable results with regards to financial issues. The eight-year wait for the new Convention, patient mediations, and possibly even the cancellation of the Congress at the critical point of the negotiation process, resulted in success. On the other hand, Iwaszkiewicz’s readiness to compromise against a background of growing restrictions, censorship and control of literary circles by the Security Services, reactivated the ‘oppositional group’ within the

Union. The attitudes of ZLP members and their priorities with regards to Union goals were outlined by Dąbrowska in her diaries. The actions of the group, which was very displeased about the Congress cancellation and very vocal in criticising Iwaszkiewicz, were described as the ‘“rebellion of old people” not supported by the young writers’.235 Examination of the minutes from the meeting confirms that writers with long careers, who were well-established within literary circles and belonged to the more privileged pantheon of the Union, were generally the most critical of cultural policies, censorship and Iwaszkiewicz. For many rank-and-file members, especially

234 Stenogram z zebrania plenarnego Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 17-18/01/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union 17-18/01/1964], pp: 14- 16. 235 Dąbrowska, vol IV, p: 260.

134 those at the beginning of their writing careers, the Convention and conditions of work seem to have been the priorities. Thus, it can be argued that Iwaszkiewicz not only successfully fulfilled some of the Union goals, but considered the wellbeing of all Union members to be his priority.

‘The rebellion’, however, was on its way. In March 1964, despite concessions granted to the Union by the authorities, Słonimski and his circle of like-minded writers decided to engage in an open protest by sending a letter to the authorities. The ‘Letter of 34’ became famous as the first protest of this kind, as well as due to the national and international publicity it received. 34 famous literary figures protested against the shortage of paper and censorship.236 The authorities reacted strongly to the protest due to the publicity it gained abroad through Radio Free Europe, and imposed sanctions on some signatories.

Iwaszkiewicz attempted to defend protesters through unofficial channels. He wrote to the Minister of Culture and Arts, Tadeusz Galiński, and attempted to take the blame for the protest by claiming that it was aimed at him personally and at his politics, rather than the regime.237 Iwaszkiewicz even attempted to ‘blackmail’ the authorities by threatening to resign from his post, which would alarm the authorities in case it brought the ‘oppositional group’ back into the forefront of the Union. At the meeting with the First Secretary on 4 May 1964, Iwaszkiewicz pleaded on behalf of the repressed writers for a lifting of the sanctions against them. The meeting was attended by Gomułka, ‘second in command’ Zenon Kliszko, and head of the Department of

236 For details regarding the ‘Letter of 34’, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship. Please also see: Rokicki, pp: 245-316. 237 Rokicki, p: 270.

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Culture of the Central Committee, Wincenty Kraśko.238 The Union was represented by

Iwaszkiewicz, Vice-Presidents Putrament, Czesław Centkiewicz and Aleksander

Maliszewski, and the Union’s Secretary and Treasurer. During this meeting

Iwaszkiewicz attempted to defend the Union and emphasised that a small group of writers had engaged in an act which was not supported by the Board, and that ‘the whole of the literary community should not have to take the blame for the actions of a particular part of this community’. Nonetheless, he saw it as ‘the Board’s duty to defend the rights of Union members’, and attempted to gain some favours from the

Party officials.239 Hence Iwaszkiewicz spoke out against a small group of Union members in an attempt to protect the majority of membership and the interests of the

Union as a whole. However, he also defended the protesters since they were part of the Union and, therefore, were the responsibility of Iwaszkiewicz and the Board. He refused to take any action against the protesters and stressed that the ZLP would not subject them to any negative consequences. This suggests that the ZLP did enjoy a level of agency. By refusing to take action against protesters, Iwaszkiewicz asserted the

Union’s right to determine its own actions in relation to members. Despite the top- down pressure, the Union stood by its writers. Some of the authorities’ sanctions were removed immediately, with others following soon after, and none of the signatories lost their membership in the Union. It seems that Iwaszkiewicz’s position as a writer

238 Zenon Kliszko was the Secretary of the Central Committee of the PZPR and a member of the Politburo. He was often regarded as Gomułka’s ‘right hand’ and ‘second in command’. 239 Fijałkowska, Barbara (1985) Sumienie narodu? Sprawy i ludzie kultury w Polsce Ludowej [The Conscience of the Nation? Issues and people of culture in People's Poland], Wrocław: Krajowa Agencja Wydawnicza, pp: 125-127.

136 and the Union’s President was strong, and the ZLP managed to expand, or at least reassert, some level of agency.

However, the authorities were not ready to relinquish much control. As the negotiations regarding writers’ legal status and pensions were still on-going, they had a significant leverage. Towards the end of 1964, during a speech at the plenary Congress,

Gomułka clearly suggested what constituted acceptable limits of expression from the

Party’s point of view. The writer should be useful in relation to the state’s agenda, but the only type of creativity not acceptable to the authorities was that which ‘is damaging to socialism through its ideological message’.240 This broad description, however, left the decision of what was ‘damaging to socialism’ in the hands of the authorities, and clearly underlined the fact that openly criticising the regime was not acceptable. The First Secretary also talked about the legal status of the writer, which the Union had been attempting to obtain for several years. Gomułka asked: ‘How do we define who is a writer? Membership in the Union might be enough for you, but we cannot be sure.’241 In view of the controversial protest and Gomułka’s assertion about what constituted acceptable limits of expression, it can be argued that he was suggesting that because of the oppositional group within the Union, he would not grant the legal status of writer to all Union members. As legal status would entail a writer’s right to the state pension, sick leave and other material benefits, the regime was not prepared to grant it at a time of literary protest, when the public conduct of some members was violating the expectations and regulations of the Party-state. The message was that while the Union or some of its members continued to engage in

240 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1964], p: 58. 241 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1964], p: 66.

137 vocal criticism of the regime, no further concessions would be granted. In this way the authorities reasserted a certain level of control over the Union.

Notwithstanding Gomułka’s attempt to tighten control over literary circles, the level of control over the ZLP was less than that exerted over its Soviet counterpart. In the aftermath of the 1964 protest, two of the protest instigators, Słonimski, and literary historian and critic Jan Józef Lipski, were accused of disseminating the ‘Letter of 34’ to

Radio Free Europe. The Polish authorities arrested Lipski, but released him two days later. As noted above, although he did not officially support the protest, Iwaszkiewicz, made several attempts to remove the sanctions which had been placed on some of the protesters. Most importantly, he refused to take any action against them on behalf of the Union.242

Here, comparison with the situation in the USSR is revealing. In 1965, the leader of the

Union of Soviet Writers (USW), Konstantin Fedin, refused to deal with similar ‘offences’ by the USW members Andrei Syniavsky and Yuli Daniel. This meant there was only one other option - a court trial. The writers were sentenced to seven and five years respectively in strict-regime camps.243 Fedin made no attempt to defend these members of the Soviet Writers’ Union when it came to light that Synavsky and Daniel had published their work in the West. However, one of the reasons for Fedin’s behaviour was that restrictions imposed by the Party-state on the Chair of the Soviet

Writers’ Union were far greater than those imposed on his Polish counterpart. The political atmosphere in Poland was less strict, despite Gomułka turning against his

242 Fijałkowska, pp: 125-127. 243 Garrard and Garrard, p: 141.

138 electoral promises and attempting to tighten control over the Union and Poland’s public sphere during the early 1960s. Iwaszkiewicz could not support the protesters officially but his continuous attempts to defend them through unofficial channels resulted in the removal of some of the sanctions. Most importantly, his opinion was acknowledged and his position allowed him to refuse to fulfil Gomułka’s top-down directive regarding punishments of oppositional writers. Smaller punishments for stepping out of line, such as a year-long ban on travel abroad or a ban on publishing for a maximum of two years, also indicate that the ZLP had more agency than its Soviet counterpart. Notwithstanding censorship, restrictions on the cultural sphere and surveillance by the Secret Security, Polish writers could express their discontent in a public forum without fear of imprisonment.

All the same, any sign of political liberalisation still had to be sanctioned by the Soviet

Union, just as it had been in 1956. Iwaszkiewicz was fully aware of the political intricacies of his time. Following the protest in 1964, he asked: ‘What kind of freedom of speech do they want? They want to criticise Russia, but this is practically impossible’.244 As the Union leader, he was convinced that patiently following the rules of conduct in political forums could help meet Union demands. Yet he clearly felt that

Słonimski’s circle failed to understand his policies. Despite the fact that the Thaw was long over, that the authorities had tightened control and that censorship had become more active again, speaking against the regime was not only possible, but repercussions, especially for the well-established literary figures, were not as severe as they were in the USW.

244 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, 21/04/1964.

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All the same, Iwaszkiewicz was aware that stepping out of line, even by the most famous writers, had its limits, and that the consequences might be drastic for the

Union. One of the major factors which stopped Iwaszkiewicz from showing open support for the protesters was his fear that the Union would be disbanded.245 Was this possible in 1964? Would the Party-state leadership decide to go that far, especially with Europe and the world watching? Or was the possibility of protesters gaining public support, which could turn into mass protests, too risky at that time? Disbanding the Union would have very serious consequences for most writers as their livelihoods depended on membership in the ZLP. Thus Iwaszkiewicz adjusted his politics to fit reality. In order to preserve the Union and maintain the possibility of advancing financial demands, he would not openly act against the regime. However, it seems that he would not allow drastic repressions and would defend ‘his’ writers despite their differences of opinions, as he was responsible for all members. By mediating between the authorities’ expectations, the needs of rank-and-file members and his duty to protect Union members, he attempted to maintain and, when possible, expand the level of agency the Union had already managed to gain.

Iwaszkiewicz’s ability to defend fellow writers and reassert a certain level of self-rule on the part of the ZLP was evident again in 1968. Following protests against censorship prompted by a ban on a play by Adam Mickiewicz, rumours were reported about the possibility of the Union being dissolved.246 The play was banned because of what was perceived by the authorities to be anti-Russian content. At the same time, an anti-

245 Rakowski, Mieczysław (2001) Dzienniki polityczne 1963-1966 [Political Diaries 1963-1966], Warszawa: Iskry, p: 145. 246 Kowalska, p: 519. For details regarding the 1968 protests, please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship.

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Semitic campaign, instigated by the authorities, took over the country. There were also reports of the possibility that Union membership was to be reconsidered, ‘based on the quality of publications, their moral and patriotic level’.247 This would mean that the regime would be able to decide who could belong to the Union and who was to be expelled, thus rooting out opposition in the ranks of the main organisation of literati.

Iwaszkiewicz was adamant that ‘verification [of membership] cannot happen while I am running the Union. But by leaving, I am killing Twórczość, and risking the livelihoods of my friends (…)’.248 If he left, verification of membership might happen anyway, and the journal Twórczość [Creativeness] would be closed down or taken over by loyal

Party supporters, thus jeopardising the financial wellbeing of members of the Union and the editorial team. Iwaszkiewicz wanted to do everything in his power to stop verification, and especially the chance that racial and political criteria would be applied in order to get rid of the most vocal opponents of the regime. Furthermore, as the situation was escalating, the POP called for the removal of three Union members involved in the protests: publicist January Grzędziński, historian and essayist Paweł

Jasienica, and Kisielewski. Iwaszkiewicz publicly announced that he was ‘against removing Union members for any reason’, attempted to gain more time, and referred the case to the Union’s Peer Tribunal.249 The Tribunal also played for time and eventually found no reason for expulsion, so all three members remained in the ZLP.250

247 Kisielewski, p: 28. 248 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, 12/05/1968. 249 The Peer Tribunal was responsible for resolving personal and professional writers’ issues. For more detailed description of the Peer Tribunal’s task please see Chapter 1: The Institutional Profile of the Union of Polish Writers, pp: 41-42. 250 Protokół Nr 9 z zebrania Zarządu Głównego Związku Literatów Polskich 09/04/1968 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 9 09/04/1968], p: 37.

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This solidarity amongst the literary circles infuriated the authorities, and so, under the government’s pressure, a statute change was adopted at the 1969 Congress, which allowed for expulsion from the Union on the basis of ‘political activity, at home or abroad, contradicting the ideological foundations of the Union or harmful to the Polish

People’s Republic’.251

These developments testify to both some levels of the Union’s agency and its limitations, also suggesting that the Union leader could achieve the best results for the membership through unofficial channels. During the Gomułka period, Iwaszkiewicz managed to advance some of the financial demands of the Union. He also returned the

Literature Fund to ZLP’s control, thus increasing the latter’s agency. His politics of compromise seem to have been working as a way of achieving the Union’s goals.

Iwaszkiewicz also demonstrated his own agency in influencing the sphere of culture and writers’ actions. This was achieved through skilful mediation between the different aspects and demands of his roles as Union leader, chief editor, and politically connected renowned writer. Due to his well-established position and his ability to compromise and manoeuvre within the political system, he was granted some concessions. Between 1955 and 1980, he was chief editor of the journal Twórczość.

Sometimes he would write a complimentary article about the regime’s politics and in return he could publish authors and works which were not fully supportive of the

Party-line.252 His biographer, Marek Radziwon, found a report which was requested by

Security Services in 1970 and was written by one of the directors of Arts and Film

251 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1969 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1969], p: 299. 252 Radziwon, p: 322.

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Publisher.253 In this report, the journal’s team was described as ‘the last bastion of opposition’. In fact, the journal abstained from commenting on current political events as far as possible, while its contributors also avoided endorsing state-approved ideological messages. Iwaszkiewicz described what he saw as the role of the journal in

1960, when Twórczość was celebrating 15 years of publication: ‘I would like it

(Twórczość) to be a bridge between the literature of the East and West”.254 He evoked inter-war literary traditions which pertained to the success of the poetry group

Skamander and the literary journal Wiadomości Literackie [Literary News]. Thus

Iwaszkiewicz’s stance as chief editor was not remotely close to expressing a servile attitude and bowing to the expectations of the authorities. Furthermore, he was visited regularly by Adam Ważyk, one of the main members of the opposition and a former editor who lost his position following a scandal relating to his anti-regime poem. Many other opposition writers were published in the journal. It is not surprising that Iwaszkiewicz’s journal was described as oppositional, even though Iwaszkiewicz attempted to avoid antagonising the authorities. It is important to remember, that in the context of the communist regime, just the avoidance of endorsing the sanctioned ideological messages could be perceived as ‘opposition’.

In this difficult context, Iwaszkiewicz was able to apply his calculated politics of compromise to his roles as Union leader and chief editor. In the first role, he was effective in achieving some of the most important Union goals pertaining to financial matters. In his role as journal editor he influenced the state of Polish literature. So how did he manage to not antagonise the authorities and to advance Union demands while

253 Ibid, p: 444. 254 Iwaszkiewicz, Jarosław (1960) ‘Cudów nie ma’ [There Are No Miracles], Twórczość (9), p: 145.

143 remaining the editor of the ‘last bastion of opposition’? Despite some criticism of his attitude towards the regime, with his most vocal critic being his former friend

Słonimski, Iwaszkiewicz managed to win the vast majority of delegates’ votes in every election. How was this possible? Why was he not ostracised by Polish and émigré literary circles for his cooperation with the regime?

The answer is quite complex. It seems that many Union members trusted him to advance their financial demands as he negotiated a pay rise for writers, stipends from the CCTU, and more paper for printing literature, and was still negotiating pensions and social security for all Union members. Thus as President of the Union, he prioritised the financial issues which were most vital for rank-and-file members.

Outside of the Union he prioritised the state of Polish literature, and this was respected by fellow writers, even those who were oppositional.

Furthermore, considering the historical and ever-changing political context of the

Gomułka period, it is possible that many writers realised that the politics of compromise and working within the system instead of against it could bring results.

Already in 1945 the Vice-President of the State National Council, Stanisław Grabski, was calling for involvement in politics. Admitting that Soviet control would not disappear straightaway, he stated that the only way to achieve it at some point was

‘for all good patriots to join all possible regional, social, cultural and administrative state organisations’.255 Iwaszkiewicz’s actions as President seemed to fit this proposal.

The famous émigré writer Czesław Miłosz said of his work within the system: ‘he

255 Kersten, Krystyna (1988) Narodziny systemu władzy 1943-1948 [The Birth of the System of Power 1943-1948], Warszawa: POMOST, p: 149.

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(Iwaszkiewicz) and Kazimierz Wyka are the best examples of a practical philosophy of life (…): achieve as much as you can in the given conditions’.256 It seems plausible that the majority of Union members were aware that compromise, manoeuvring within and manipulation of the system were the only ways of achieving Union goals in the existing reality. Moreover, Iwaszkiewicz’s past actions during the war and his literary work were held in esteem, especially since his writing was respected for not fulfilling the regime’s expectations. Even writers who disliked him personally, and the members of political structures, described his literary output as free from serving the purposes of the regime.

Mieczysław Rakowski, a member of the political structures who became Prime

Minister between 1988 and 1989, commented on the fact that Iwaszkiewicz received the highest state decoration, Order of the Builders of People’s Poland, in the early

1960s. Rakowski implied that Iwaszkiewicz could not even bring himself to say the words socialism, party and people’s power.257 To some extent, Rakowski might have been exaggerating as, in the political context of the time, Iwaszkiewicz and virtually all members of the Union had to embellish their public statements with appropriate vocabulary. However, it suggests that members of the political structures were fully aware of Iwaszkiewicz’s attitude towards the regime and the fact that he was not serving propaganda purposes either in his literary output, or in his position as Union leader. Kisielewski, who was saved by Iwaszkiewicz from expulsion from the ZLP, did

256 Miłosz, Czesław (1998) Zaraz po wojnie: Korespondencja z pisarzami 1945-1950 [Right after the War: Correspondence with writers 1945-1950], Kraków: Znak, p: 126. 257 Rakowski, p: 122.

145 not consider him to be the most suitable Union President and expressed some criticism towards him on a personal level. In 1969, he wrote in his diary:

It is funny with this Iwaszkiewicz: flatterer, courtier, careerist, but his writing -

not even a bit socialist. Pessimism, fear of death, fatalistic love, and

melancholia for old Poland (…). This conman does it very skilfully but the price

he pays is also high. And they (the authorities) either did not figure it out or

they think that it is worth having such a ‘bourgeois’ writer as a decoration.258

Notwithstanding Kisielewski’s negative opinion about Iwaszkiewicz’s personality, he could not accuse him of being a ‘state writer’ who owed his career to his willingness to write for the regime. Thus Iwaszkiewicz was respected by literary circles for his long writing career and his literary output. As analysis of his actions as Union President suggests, his mediating skills and ability to compromise were beneficial and were approved of by many Union members. This is demonstrated by the fact that

Iwaszkiewicz managed to retain his post for over two decades, winning the vast majority of votes most of the time. He paid a high price for this, as Kisielewski suggested, on a personal level. The Union leader felt abandoned in his struggle to improve the writing and living conditions of Union members. Examination of his diaries paints a picture of an often disheartened and misunderstood person. His attempts to satisfy and mediate between various factions in the Union and the authorities seems at times to have been daunting. Following the events of the 1964 protest, he stated that ‘I cannot fight on three fronts: Masons (Gieysztor, Dąbrowska) on one side,

Central Committee on the other, Słonimski and Europe on the third. Especially, since I

258 Kisielewski, p: 187.

146 have no sound support from any of them’.259 Despite these feelings, his politics seemed to be bringing results. It seems unlikely that the authorities, as Kisielewski suggested, did not realise the extent of concessions granted to Iwaszkiewicz, both in his literary and editorial work and as Union President. It is more likely that the authorities needed Iwaszkiewicz, as famous figures who cooperated or at least did not attack the regime openly were used to legitimise the regime and its power.

Iwaszkiewicz thus demonstrated an ability to utilise this to his and the Union’s advantage during the Gomułka period.

Iwaszkiewicz continued to use his influence and position to advance Union demands in the changing political context when in 1970 Poland witnessed the end of Gomułka’s power and the election of Edward Gierek to the post of the First Secretary. With the change of Party leader, the situation in Poland started to evolve rapidly. As Gierek was able to secure foreign loans to boost the Polish economy, the early 1970s allowed

Iwaszkiewicz to negotiate financial stability for Union members and fulfil the final goals he set for himself as the Union leader at the start of his presidency, including securing pensions and social insurance for writers. However, it soon became apparent that the loans had gone and the economy was failing. For the first time since his election in

1959, in 1978 Iwaszkiewicz took part in and openly supported a protest against the regime’s censorship policies.260 Had several years of struggle and disappointment reached their limit? Did he consider that the politics of compromise did not bring results quickly enough? Did the changing political atmosphere, or his age, make him

259 Iwaszkiewicz, vol III, 12/04/1964. By saying Europe, Iwaszkiewicz meant a former editorial team of the literary journal Europa [Europe], whose closure in 1957 caused scandal among literary circles. Please see chapter: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship, pp: 10-12. 260 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1978 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1978], p: 72.

147 feel that there was not much to lose if he joined the protesters? Whatever the reason,

Iwaszkiewicz openly supported protesters and kept the Union’s wellbeing in mind when making decisions up until the end. On his deathbed, in 1980, he wrote to Paweł

Hertz, who was a well-known oppositional writer, asking him to take over the ZLP in order to retain the Union’s agency and protect it from being run by loyal regime supporters. In 1981, soon after his death, the Union was suspended; the oppositional faction had become the majority, and the Union as a whole was seen as a threat by the authorities.261 Verification of membership was carried out and a new, obedient Union was created.

During his long presidency, Iwaszkiewicz managed to achieve all of the Union goals pertaining to financial matters, retain and expand the level of Union agency, and made attempts to protect and improve the state of Polish literature. Konstanty Jeleński, an

émigré writer and friend of Iwaszkiewicz, wrote in the Parisian journal Kultura after

261 The year 1980 was marked by continuous workers’ protests which started in Gdańsk’s shipyard, a ‘home’ to the Solidarity (Solidarność) movement. The protests, sparked by rising meat prices, spread to other working professions including miners and various specialisations of factory workers. This mass movement was the first organised opposition against the regime and these workers’ protests were of pivotal importance to the political future of Poland. The regime witnessed the extent of protests and realised possible consequences if the whole of production comes to a halt and all workers take to the streets. Therefore, the Party-state negotiated with Solidarity’s movement leader, the future Nobel Peace Prize (1983) winner and Polish President, Lech Wałęsa and agreed to registration of Solidarity Trade Union. As the opposition and criticism towards the regime were growing, the authorities attempted to regain control through limiting forums for expressing differentiating opinions and curbing possibilities of organising further protests. Thus the martial law was introduced in December 1981 and lasted until July 1983. The Polish Writers’ Union was an important forum for expressing discontent with the Party-state politics by members of intelligentsia. The Union gradually became more radicalised and the regime considered it to be overtaken by oppositional writers. As literati supported various protests in the past, the authorities could be concerned about workers and intelligentsia joining forces in the 1980s. Therefore, the martial law was implemented to curb the growth of Solidarity opposition (already ten million members strong) at the same time stopping the Union from joining the protests. The carefully prepared introduction of the martial law gave the regime unprecedented control over society. The Polish Writers’ Union was suspended in its functioning for the duration of the martial law. Once it was lifted, the ZLP was dissolved by the authorities as it was overtaken by the oppositional faction and more and more difficult to exert control over. Thus the Party-state used the martial law to suppress not only opposition of workers but also to deal with the disobedient Writers’ Union.

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Iwaszkiewicz’s death: ‘with regards to literature, someone in Poland had to take on the official role of ‘partner’ to the party and government; (…) if Iwaszkiewicz had not done it, the fate of this literature would probably be a lot worse’.262

Conclusion

Through his calculated politics of compromise, Iwaszkiewicz was effective in achieving all of the Union goals outlined at the beginning of his presidency. He negotiated the

New Authors’ Convention, which increased pay for publications and re-prints. He managed to secure pensions and social insurance for all Union members. He secured stipends and financial aid from the Central Commission of the Trade Unions, obtained more paper for literature during the period of paper shortage, and returned control of the Literature Fund to the ZLP. By doing this, he managed to not only retain but also expand the Union’s agency. His ability to mediate between the needs of rank-and-file members, different factions within the Union and the political leadership also made possible some concessions with regards to the literary output of the prominent journal

Twórczość, and his own works, which influenced the state of Polish literature at that time. Most importantly, events following his death suggest that Iwaszkiewicz was correct in assuming that in order for the Union to survive and retain some agency, it was necessary to seek compromise and avoid antagonising the Party-state leadership.

At the same time he made sure that writers’ livelihoods and professional conditions gradually improved. Iwaszkiewicz’s actions secured a greater level of financial stability for all Union members. Negotiations regarding Union demands stretched over two decades. This, however, was due to the political reality of the time and not to any

262 Jeleński, Konstanty (1980) Kultura [Culture] (5), p: 108.

149 inability on Iwaszkiewicz’s part to strike a deal with the authorities. The regime aimed to exert control over the Union using financial demands as leverage. Therefore, the negotiations were prolonged and required a patient approach. Iwaszkiewicz’s mediating skills resulted in the ultimate fulfilment of the Union’s financial goals and secured financial stability for Union members. It can be argued that this stability, especially given the changing political atmosphere of the 1970s, allowed writers to speak more freely on issues regarding publishing policies, censorship and dissatisfaction with the regime. This, combined with the new earning opportunities which came from the emergence of underground publishing, was partially what led to the oppositional stance of the Union in the early 1980s.

In turn, Słonimski’s effectiveness in achieving the Union goals set at the beginning of his presidency had been minimal. During his term, none of the financial demands were met. Additionally, the Union lost control of the Literature Fund and, therefore, a certain level of agency. However, as this chapter has demonstrated, negotiations with the authorities were a very long process and depended to a large extent on the political situation of the time, as well as the relationship between the authorities and the Union leaders. Through his vocal stance against the regime’s publishing policies and censorship, Słonimski was pushing things towards a political change which was not acceptable to the regime. Furthermore, his presidency lasted only three years, making it virtually impossible to finalise any talks with Party officials. All the same, Słonimski had the ability to mobilise people and influence their expectations and actions. This was partly due to the first ever open protest and the continuation of this phenomenon into the 1960s and 1970s. It could be argued that as a ‘leader of the opposition’ which

150 formed in the 1950s and 1960s, he influenced the political and professional expectations of Union members for whom freedom of speech was a vital part of being a writer. On the other hand, if Iwaszkiewicz had not attempted to achieve compromise with the authorities, Słonimski’s protests against the regime’s policies could have resulted in the disbanding of the ZLP much earlier. This could have had severe consequences for all Union members, especially rank-and-file. Disbanding the Union in the 1980s was not as damaging to writers’ livelihoods since the emergence of underground publishing options made it possible for writers to disseminate their work without the regime’s patronage. Słonimski’s actions had a direct effect on the Union’s financial situation and the level of its agency, such as the loss of control over the

Literature Fund and the postponing of negotiations regarding the new Authors’

Convention. They also had a more indirect effect on the political and cultural situation in Poland for a few decades, with the opposition growing stronger, and especially with the rise of the Solidarność movement.

It seems that the Union needed both Słonimski and Iwaszkiewicz, in exactly the roles they took on. Both of them brought about vital and long-term effects on the Union and its members, creating a situation whereby the general public held the Union in esteem, the financial and professional conditions of writers’ work were gradually improving, and the oppositional group partly influenced, however slowly, political and cultural changes in Poland. These changes will be further analysed in the following chapter, which discusses one of the most contentious issues for the literary circles: censorship.

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Chapter 4: The Polish Writers’ Union and the Issue of Censorship

Introduction

This chapter will examine the reactions of Polish writers to censorship control over cultural production in Poland between 1956 and 1970. The main question it addresses is the role of the Union of Polish Writers and/or its individual members in influencing the politics of censorship. For example, how far could writers express their attitudes towards political censorship in the changing political climate post-1956? Answering this question will help us to understand the level and the nature of the Union’s agency and how this fits in with the Party-state’s aim of complete control over cultural production in the Polish People’s Republic.

Scholarly literature on censorship in Poland remains limited, especially for the Gomułka period. Most of the relevant publications are in Polish and there is little scholarly work on the topic in English. Furthermore, most existing publications have focused on the legal framework and mechanisms of censorship. Censorship has been examined extensively at the institutional and organisational levels as an institutionalised form of control which aimed to legitimise the political system and as a channel for top-down directives. Most of these works discuss the role of the Main Office for the Control of the

Press, Publications and Performances [Główny Urząd Kontroli Prasy, Publikacji i

Widowisk-GUKPPiW].263 By contrast, Zbigniew Romek's monograph is a rare example of

263 The list is in no way exhaustive: Degen, Dorota and Jacek Gzella (2010) (eds) Niewygodne dla władzy: Ograniczanie wolności słowa na ziemiach polskich w XIX i XX wieku [Uncomfortable for the Authorities: Restricting free speech on Polish territories in XIX and XX centuries], Toruń: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Uniwersytetu Mikołaja Kopernika; Gzella, Grażyna and Gzella Jacek (2013) „Nie należy dopuszczać do

152 a sophisticated analysis of how the complex system of censorship allows for the dispersion of functions between a large network of bodies and individuals, such as the representatives of creative professions.264 However, there is a lack of secondary sources relating to the attitudes of literary circles towards censorship. Only a few publications have dealt with the impact of censorship on individuals. Romek’s monograph deals with the impact of censorship on individuals, but his focus is on historians. Anna Bikont’s and

Joanna Szczęsna’s monograph Avalanche and Stones does to some extent portray individual writers’ experiences of censorship during their careers.265 While Konrad

Rokicki analyses the attitudes of literary circles toward cultural politics by means of archival sources from the Security Police.266

This chapter takes a significant step towards broadening our understanding of this under-researched issue, using the example of the Writers’ Unions. I have made vast use of primary sources. The archival sources of the ZLP, obtained during field research, have provided me with the minutes of ZLP Congresses, Executive Board and Presidium meetings, statutes and resolutions, all of which provide insight into writers’ attitudes

publikacji”. Cenzura w PRL [“Not Allowed to be Published”. Censorship in PRL], Toruń: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Uniwersytetu Mikołaja Kopernika; Gogol, Bogusław (2012) Fabryka fałszywych tekstów [The Factory of Falsified Texts], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Neriton; Łętowski, Maciej (2010), Gdy lżyliśmy ustrój i odziliśmy w sojusze: Cenzura prasowa w PRL na przykładzie katolickiego tygodnika społecznego „Ład” [When We Reviled the System and Disregarded Alliances: Press censorship in PRL on the example of the Catholic journal „Ład”’], Lublin: Wydawnictwo KUL; Zaremba, Marcin (2005) Komunizm, legitymizacja, nacjonalizm. Nacjonalistyczna legitymizacja władzy komunistycznej w Polsce [Communism, Legitimacy, Nationalism. The nationalist legitimacy of the communist rule in Poland], Warszawa: TRIO Institute of Political Studies of the Polish Academy of Science. 264 Romek, Zbigniew (2000) Cenzura w PRL. Relacje historyków [Censorship in PRL. Historians’ accounts], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo NERITON History Institute of the Polish Academy of Sciences. 265 Bikont, Anna and Joanna Szczęsna (2006) Lawina i kamienie. Pisarze wobec komunizmu [Avalanche and Stones. Writers and communism], Warszawa: Prószyński i Spółka. 266 Rokicki, Konrad (2011) Literaci: Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956-1970 [Writers: Relations between writers and communist authorities in the years 1956-1970], Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Badawczy.

153 towards censorship. I have also drawn on a selection of documents available on the government website ‘Collection of Legal Acts’, which include the legal acts establishing censorship as an institution in Poland, regulating the centrally planned economy, and ensuring a state monopoly over the publishing sector.267 In addition, I have analysed collections of documents compiled by researchers. One unique publication of the communist era is The Black Book of Polish Censorship, which contains documents specifying the rules for censors.268 I have also made use of another important collection of documents produced by the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish

Workers’ Party.269

I start by providing the historical background to the events leading to the liberalisation of cultural politics – Gomułka’s Thaw – and investigating the censorship system in Poland at that time. Afterwards I analyse stenographic reports from plenary congresses of the

Writers’ Union, placing them in the political and cultural context of Gomułka’s Thaw. I also assess events pertaining to individual Union members and their struggles with the censorship system. I argue that the Polish Writers’ Union was controlled by the authorities, and that attempts were made to use it as a channel for transmitting top- down directives. However, I also contend that the Union had some level of agency and was able to transmit bottom-up initiatives. To provide a context for this analysis, it is necessary to briefly present the background situation in the country and the Union at that time.

267 Collection of Legal Acts [Dziennik Ustaw] is available on http://dziennikustaw.gov.pl/ 268 Czarna księga cenzury [The Black Book of Polish Censorship] (1977), London: Aneks. 269 Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia.

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1956 – 1959: The Thaw Ends Twice

Stalin’s death triggered a series of events which led to relative liberalisation across the

Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. This led to actions by certain groups within the Party who supported ‘slight’ liberalisation. It also caused a loosening of censorship’s tight grip and the publication of content which criticised the state of affairs in the political and cultural spheres.270

The first spark of liberalisation in the Polish cultural sphere, which appeared before the

1956 revolution, was the publication of Adam Ważyk’s Poemat dla Dorosłych [Poem for

Adults] in the journal Nowa Kultura [New Culture] in 1955.271 This work caused lively debate in literary circles, not because of the poem’s artistic value but because of its content, which criticised the existing reality. Yet Ważyk supported the regime and he was a major and eager proponent of social realism in literature. Furthermore, Nowa

Kultura was an official journal of the Writers’ Union and normally represented the

Party’s viewpoint. Hence when editor-in-chief Paweł Hoffman decided to publish this controversial poem, it was a clear sign of change in Nowa Kultura’s editorial line.

Although Hoffman was removed from his post almost immediately, the Party never regained full control over the journal’s output, resulting in its closure in 1963.272 Ważyk’s volte-face on the politics of the Party made him a principal character in the writers’ subsequent struggle against censorship.

270 Eisler, Jerzy (2006) 'Jakim państwem była PRL w latach 1956-1976?' [The Nature of the PRL State from 1956-1976], Remembrance and Justice 2(10), p: 18. 271 Rokicki (2011), p: 94. 272 Ibid, p: 97.

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While the importance of Ważyk’s poem for cultural circles was unparalleled, the most important event all over the Soviet bloc was Soviet Party leader Nikita Khrushchev’s speech On the Cult of Personality and Its Consequences [О Kульте Личности и его

Последствиях], delivered at the 20th Soviet Communist Party Congress in February

1956.273 This was a milestone in political change, as his critical stance toward the ‘cult of personality’ led to partial criticism of Stalin’s excesses.

As argued by John and Carol Garrards, the post-Stalin period witnessed the replacement of terror by the Communist Party with bureaucracy. This allowed conflict between literary circle representatives and the communist authorities to come to the surface.274

As the threat of the GULAG receded, writers spoke out against censorship. I define censorship as an official, usually governmental, control of publishing, performances, and radio, entailing severe restrictions on the part of multiple institutions, and of the people who ensure that control.275 The communist party seized power in Poland in 1944, and because the Soviet Union had prepared political, cultural and social control strategies, it was possible to implement them quickly in Poland.

The institution of censorship, which had unofficially functioned since 1945, was officially established by the National Council of the Homeland in a 1946 decree, and retained its

273 Ibid, p: 98. 274 Garrard, John and Carol Garrard (1990) Inside the Soviet Writers’ Union, London and New York: I.B. Tauris & Co Ltd, p: 78. 275 Czarna księga cenzury [The Black Book of Polish Censorship] (1977), London: Aneks.

156 function throughout the existence of the PRL.276 In the same year, an act regarding the nationalisation of all branches of the economy was passed.277 As the government aimed for complete control over the publishing sector, large state-owned publishing outlets were created. The three big publishing houses, ‘Wiedza’, ‘Życie’, and ‘Prasa’, were merged in 1948 to create a conglomerate called ‘Książka i Wiedza’ [Book and

Knowledge],278 which by the early 1950s was responsible for 25% of national production.279 The monopoly on the publishing market was achieved by creating a few massive publishing houses such as ‘Czytelnik’, ‘Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe’, and ‘Wiedza Powszechna’. Bookselling was subject to the same monopoly. The state took over independent and privately-owned bookstores and, in January 1950, created a centralised outlet called ‘Dom Książki’, which had exclusive rights to wholesale and retail book sales.280

Many independent publishing houses and bookstores suffered the same fate because, on 2 June 1947, a legislative act regarding the suppression of high prices and excessive profits in trade was passed.281 This line was in agreement with the USSR’s economic policies, resulting in Polish publishing houses and bookstores being nationalised. With these actions the state took control of the printed word.

276 KRN’s Decree creating GUKPPiW [the Main Office for the Control of the Press, Publications, and Public Performances], Dziennik Ustaw (1946), No. 34; position 210. 277 An act from 3 January 1946 regarding taking over by the state the main branches of national economy. [Ustawa z dnia 3 stycznia 1946 r. o przejęciu na własność Państwa podstawowych gałęzi gospodarki narodowej], Collection of Legal Acts No. 3, position 17 [Dziennik Ustaw Nr 3, poz. 17] 278 Nowak, Piotr (2010),’Poznańskie księgarstwo asortymentowo-wydawnicze w „Bitwie o handel” 1946- 1950’ [The Poznań Selected-Publishing Bookselling in „The Fight for Trade”: 1946-1950 Summary] in Dorota Degen and Gzella Jacek (eds) Niewygodne dla władzy..., p:293. 279 Ibid, p: 278. 280 Ibid, p: 279. 281 An act from 2 June 1947 regarding the suppression of high prices and excessive profits in trade [Ustawa o zwalczaniu drożyzny i nadmiernych zysków w obrocie handlowym], Collection of Legal Acts No. 43, position 218 [Dziennik Ustaw Nr 43, poz. 218].

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Strict control of cultural production, the imposition of a single style in all artistic output, and censorship of artistic work at every stage of creation, resulted in growing dissatisfaction and tension amongst writers. After ten years of official state control of the writers’ profession, the 1956 Writers’ Union Congress became a stage for the expression of feelings amongst writers, who were aware of literature’s role in shaping public attitudes.

1956 Congress

Writers viewed the Stalinist period as a time when their profession was reduced to a mere instrument in the hands of the authorities. In the new political situation, they came close to demanding freedom from political constraints. As argued by Włodzimierz

Bolecki, literature has two main functions under a hegemonic regime. It can be an object and a victim of censorship, or a tool of propaganda.282 However, I would argue that this dichotomy simplifies the picture. Instead I see literature, in the context of an authoritarian regime, as an object of censorship for the purposes of reinforcing state propaganda. Indeed, in 1956, conflict between writers and the authorities stemmed from the fact that literary works were censored and used for propaganda purposes. The

1956 ZLP’s Congress became a forum for writers to quite openly criticise this state of affairs. Archival sources highlight the fact that censorship and freedom of speech were the most pressing issues for literary circles at this time.

282 Bolecki, Włodzimierz (1997) ‘The Totalitarian Urge vs. Literature: The origins and achievements of the Polish independent publishing movement’, Canadian Slavonic Papers 39(1/2), p: 51.

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The VII Writers’ Congress of 1956 took place in Warsaw between 29 November and 2

December. The first and second days of the congress were completely dedicated to removing all references in the statute to the educational role of the Union, and all terminology connected to the communist regime.283 This was the writers’ attempt to stop the regime’s explicit use of literature for political purposes and to gain independence for their creativity. It could be deduced that literary circles felt that in the new political atmosphere, a clear break with the Stalinist past would result in a new, restructured Union with no place for crude directives from the Party-state regarding the writer’s role and how a writer should create his or her works. This was highlighted further on the third day when Union members demanded greater transparency in the functioning of the Executive Board and the various Union Committees, which had been perceived as transmission organs for top-down directives.284

Renowned poet and novelist Anatol Stern talked about his experience of censorship in the inter-war period, something of which other Union members were already likely to have some understanding. During the Polish Sanacja period in the late 1920s and 1930s,

Stern, who was influenced by the avant-garde movement, was repressed for the alleged seditious content of his writing; the repressions ranged from arrest to the confiscation of his works.285 Therefore, his insistence that ‘the criminal practice of burying innovative art movements will be no more as they will now come to the surface; this is how the rebellious creation of our youth will aid our present and future work’, needed no further

283 For details please see Chapter 1. 284 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1956 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1956], pp: 384-385. 285 Shore, Marci (2006) Caviar and Ashes - A Warsaw generation’s life and death in Marxism 1918- 1968, New Haven and London: Yale University Press, pp: 186-187.

159 explanation.286 His stance toward censorship in Sanacja Poland and in the PRL was clear to the other delegates. Stern demanded creative freedom and the delegation of control to the writers themselves over their literary output, rather than to publishing houses and the Party-state.287

As debates at this Congress focused on breaking with the past and changing the way the

Union operated, writers voiced their dissatisfaction with the practice of putting people who had been approved by the regime on the editorial boards of journals and in senior positions in publishing houses, hence ensuring that the regime was in control of the country’s cultural production. Monika Warneńska, a press correspondent and the author of books for young people, was the first to draw attention to this practice. She argued that these privileged people were appointed not for their talent but for their

‘servile attitude’,288 and that they ‘will do anything to keep their privileges’.289 The minutes from this congress clearly show that the majority of speakers supported

Warneńska’s position and demanded that the practice be changed.

The demands outlined above were inextricably linked to the writers’ struggle for freedom of speech. During the heated debates which took place during the 1956

Congress, the majority of writers demanded changes to the censorship system - in some cases its almost total abolition - and freedom to write what they wished. However, as

286 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1956 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1956], p: 435. 287 Ibid, p: 435. 288Ibid, pp: 398-399. Between 1951 and 1976, Monika Warneńska was an editor of Trybuna Ludu [People’s Tribune] which was a press outlet of the Polish United Workers’ Party. 289 Ibid, p: 409.

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Jack F. Matlock has argued in relation to the Soviet Writers’ Union after Stalin, there was a striking irony: ‘at times when writers feel most free to criticize the Union's leadership

(…) they advance proposals which would practically abolish the Union of Writers’.290 The same can be said of the ZLP. In addition, the proposals for abolishing censorship which were put forward by the Polish writers were interpreted by the authorities as attacks on the whole political system. This is an important point, especially since congressional resolutions which were made at the VII Writers’ Union Congress were published in the

Union’s official publication, the weekly periodical Nowa Kultura, on 9 December 1956.291

The first resolution clearly outlined the goal of Union members regarding censorship:

The General Congress of the Union of Polish Writers declares itself in favour of

the abolition of all forms of preventative censorship and in favour of introducing

a Press Law which would provide for the legal responsibility of writers and

editors.292

The call to abolish preventive censorship, which was made public by being printed in the press, was considered by the Party-state to be an attack on its politics. Such a demand would inevitably result in a rapid response from the Party, but this was compounded by the fact that the Hungarian revolution had been crushed by Soviet forces just a month before the Congress was held. The Polish government, possibly fearing a Hungarian-

290 Matlock, F. Jack (1956) ‘The "Governing Organs" of the Union of Soviet Writers Author(s)’, The American Slavic and East European Review 15(3), p: 398. 291 Kryński, Magnus (1957) ‘A Postscript to "Poland's Literary Thaw"’, The Polish Review 2(1), p: 97. 292 Ibid, p: 98.

161 type scenario and a punitive reaction from Moscow, responded with coercion on the press and literary circles alike.

The Beginning of the End of the Polish Thaw: The case of Po Prostu and Europa

Gomułka, who had come to power with the promise of a ‘Polish road to socialism’ and with support from the intelligentsia, now placed the Party’s interests first. The writers responded with anger at the fact that the radical changes they had anticipated had been overturned. This resulted in conflict between the writers and the Party-state, which continued to escalate as time went by. One factor in this escalation was the controversial case of the journal Po Prostu, which was banned by the authorities. Founded in 1947,

Po Prostu was originally a news outlet supporting the authorities. In 1955 its content underwent a drastic change, however, and since the Gomułka government claimed to be fighting both dogmatists and ‘revisionists’, the newspaper’s new editorial line was unacceptable.293 The paper’s closure resulted in demonstrations, which took place at the same time as the First Secretary’s speech regarding the writer’s role on 5 October of

1957.294 Gomułka reminded literary circles that they were not an independent force and that their role was to support the Party line, whatever it was at any given time.

The situation in the Union of Polish Writers is not good. (…) Despite our (Party’s)

understanding of literary circles and the individual views of Party members

293 Rokicki (2011), p: 127. Revisionists, in Gomułka’s terms, were members of intelligentsia pushing for the continuation of Polish October. 294 Po Prostu was closed just three days earlier, on 2 October 1957.

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working within this sphere, there are some boundaries which cannot be crossed

by the Union. There cannot be an autonomous organisation which usurps the

role of the political organisation and represents views drastically different to the

politics of the government and the Party. Writers who are Party members should

appropriately understand and appropriately feel the existing reality. They should

be a part of the solution to towering problems instead of explaining that the past

was bad so they have no choice but to behave the way they are doing. 295

Gomułka’s message was unambiguous. He clearly stated that opinions opposing the

Party-state line would not be tolerated. It is therefore not surprising that the journal

Europa, which was about to publish its first issue, was closed down in November 1957.

As members of the editorial board were seen by the Party as potential enemies of the state, the authorities were concerned about the journal’s possible output. It was run by writers who had been born at the beginning of the twentieth century who had joined the Party in the initial post-war years, and Ważyk was on the journal’s editorial board.

The Thaw had allowed them to express their disappointment with the existing reality, and this made them untrustworthy from the Party-state’s perspective. The editorial board was composed of very prominent writers who could indeed have a big influence on literary circles, as was the case with Ważyk in 1955. The poets Mieczysław Jastrun and Paweł Hertz, the critic and theoretician of Polish drama, Jan Kott, and the famous novelist Jerzy Andrzejewski, had received approval to create the journal at the time of the literary Thaw. The editorial board also included a representative of the younger

295 Gomułka, Władysław (1959) Przemówienia wrzesień 1957 – grudzień 1958 [Speeches September 1957 – December 1958], Warszawa: Książka i Wiedza, p: 88.

163 generation in the form of novelist and screenplay writer Marek Hłasko, who struggled with censorship for most of his career.296

The atmosphere created by the government’s attacks on the press was not conducive to creative work. 1957 saw the controversial case of Po Prostu, the withdrawal of permission to create Europa, and the repression of Europa’s editorial team.297 Gomułka appeared to be personally annoyed with the attitude of the literary circles, since he expected full support for his new approach to cultural politics. By retracting permission for the journal, and by punishing writers for expressing views which were now considered to be ‘revisionist’ and to oppose the Party line, Gomułka showed himself to be quite similar to Khrushchev. As Garrard and Garrard have argued, Khrushchev may have brought the Terror to an end, but he was as unpredictable in his decisions as Stalin.

Indeed, during Khrushchev’s Thaw, in the Soviet Union permission to publish and criticise could be granted and then be withdrawn.298 In the same vein, Gomułka quickly backtracked on his electoral promises.299

The Thaw was over, or at least the version which was anticipated by many writers.

However, not all of its achievements were overturned. In Poland, a new situation developed. Between 1956 and 1959, the Executive Board of the Writers’ Union was dominated by writers with liberal views, some of whom had even been seen in the past

296 Czarnik, Stanisław (1993) Między dwoma sierpniami. Polska kultura literacka w latach 1944-1980 [Between two Augusts. Polish literary culture 1944-1980], Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, p: 117. 297 Bikont and Szczęsna (2006), pp: 297-300. 298 Garrard and Garrard (1990), p: 78. 299 Partia i literaci… (1996), p: 22. Please see also Bikont and Szczęsna (2006), p: 299.

164 as enemies of the state. The editorial team of the Europa journal left the Party following the closure of Europa, and remained on the Executive Board of the ZLP. Furthermore, in the chaos of the 1956 events censorship became weaker, particularly when compared to that of the Stalin period, and more Western literature was imported. The Union, under Antoni Słonimski’s leadership, pressed for the publication of foreign titles by hitherto forbidden authors like Jean-Paul Sartre and Ernest Hemingway. Słonimski also facilitated the publication of works by Polish writers such as Marek Hłasko, Leopold

Tyrmand and Melchior Wańkowicz, who had previously been subject to censorship.300

However, Gomułka and the Party leadership were not finished with bringing writers back into line. The government’s next move was to dismiss Karol Kuryluk, the Minister of

Culture and Arts, who had, in cooperation with Słonimski, been working towards limiting political censorship. Most importantly, by the end of 1957, 60 press outlets were closed down on the grounds that their content was inappropriate. This was followed by the opening of a state-owned publishing house, ‘Prasa’ which, over time, came to monopolise the press industry.301

To some extent, the events which followed the Polish October marked the beginning of an open struggle of the Writers’ Union, or at least some of its members, against censorship, which lasted until the collapse of communism. The Gomułka government‘s actions during 1957 and 1958 caused a reaction on the part of literary circles which

300 Rokicki (2011), p: 128. For the list of authors whose works were banned from publishing or circulation in the period of 1957-1958 please see also: Partia i literaci… (1996), pp: 87-90. 301 Łętowski (2010), p: 29.

165 turned the 1958 congress into an expression of writers’ dissatisfaction with the growing restrictions on their profession.

1958 Congress

In 1958, the congress’ debate focused predominantly on censorship. As in 1956, calls for the abolition of censorship and a return to freedom of speech were reflected in a resolution proposed by a prominent writer and a well-known critic of the communist regime’s cultural politics, Stefan Kisielewski. His speech clearly conveyed his disapproval of the continuing practice of putting loyal Party individuals in charge of publishing houses and on editorial boards, despite the fact that writers had already been complaining about this for 2 years.302 The congress opened with Kisielewski’s speech, which stated that he wanted to direct the discussion to ‘matters vital to the Union and the congress proceedings’.303 He listed 30 books that had been banned in the past few years, and demanded that the Union intervene in the censorship process on behalf of writers.304 The list included 28 works by domestic writers and two books by Czesław

Miłosz, one of the best known Polish émigré writers. Kisielewski put his request regarding the publication of banned books to the Executive Board in 1957; this was passed on to the committee responsible for interventions on behalf of writers (Komisja

Interwencyjna) but the committee refused to take action as the case was considered

‘too general’.

302 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], pp: 28-37. 303 Ibid, p: 28. 304 Ibid, pp: 32-33.

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Kisielewski went on to express disapproval for the inaction of the organs responsible for running the Union. He argued that the Union’s Board did not try to change the existing politics of publishing, and that all decisions were made by publishing houses and the

Central Committee of the Party.305 He put forward an official resolution which included a demand for ‘the Union’s Executive Board to hold a conference with the Main Office for the Control of the Press, Publications and Performances regarding banned books and general aspects of the politics of censorship and publishing’.306 His proposal called for the ‘transparency of censorship and publishing procedures, including providing a clear argumentation of censors’ decisions regarding every work to be banned from publishing or pulled from circulation’.307 Lastly, he demanded that the Union use its position to intervene and that ‘such interventions must be carried out repeatedly and the author’s rights must be defended’.308 According to the congress’ stenographic report,

Kisielewski’s speech met with loud applause from the room, which suggests that there was broad support for his position. In response, Słonimski argued that since 1956, restrictions had only been placed on the writers’ profession in the past two to three months.309 However, in light of the events of 1957 and the growth in censorship restrictions, it is debatable whether the majority of delegates agreed with the

President’s position. Słonimski suggested that the demands regarding censorship and freedom of speech which had been put forward by the delegates were impossible to

305 Ibid, p: 31. 306 Ibid, point 1, p: 36. 307 Ibid, point 2, p: 36. 308 Ibid, point 3, p: 36. 309 Ibid, p: 37.

167 implement because the Union had the inferior position when negotiating with the authorities. To support his argument, he referred to a meeting between the Union’s

Executive Board and the Presidium of the Council of Culture. Two members of the

Party’s Central Committee, Tadeusz Daniłowicz and Leon Kruczkowski, were present when Kruczkowski denied the existence of censorship and held publishers responsible for what he claimed were their shortcomings.310 As Słonimski pointed out, ‘Kruczkowski declared that there is no censorship in Poland whatsoever, and that publishing houses implement restrictions themselves’.311 This amounted to the end of discussion on the subject. Słonimski implied that the Board was powerless when he declared that some issues could not be resolved not because of ‘the Board’s inactivity or ill will, but because of our weakness in this fight’.312 He did, however, agree with Kisielewski’s main points and argued that the Board should do everything in its power to help in the case of individual writers.

Most delegates speaking at the congress supported Kisielewski’s views. The atmosphere appeared to be sufficiently open for them to voice their discontent with censorship and its procedures and even joke about censors. It provided a forum in which lesser known writers could voice their opinions and concerns. The Congress finished by voting through an official resolution which was enthusiastically accepted. One main point of this resolution was that ‘the current politics of censorship which resulted in the banning of

310 Both Tadeusz Daniłowicz and Leon Kruczkowski were closely connected to the Party structures. They were both members of the Central Committee. Daniłowicz was the Secretary of the Culture Committee of the Central Committee of the PZPR. Kruczkowski was the former Writers’ Union President 1949-1956 and a Vice-Minister of the Ministry of Culture and Arts. 311 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], p: 37. 312 Ibid, p: 38.

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30 books by outstanding writers is a threat to cultural production (…); The Plenary

Congress obliges the Board to take all possible measures to defend freedom of speech’.313

Kisielewski and other writers were aware that ‘the most eminent writers had an enormous influence upon public life’ and hoped that the Union could use its position to advance writers’ demands regarding censorship. 314 However, the authorities were also aware of the role writers could play in legitimising a political system; there had been attempts to use literature for this purpose since the establishment of communist rule.

Thus the authorities were not prepared to meet the writers’ demands. Their dissatisfaction with the position expressed by the literary circles soon became obvious, when a Central Committee meeting was quickly convened on 19 January 1959, just weeks after the Congress had taken place in mid-December 1958.

The Authorities End the Thaw

The proceedings of the January 1959 meeting of the PZPR’s Political Bureau of the

Central Committee make it clear that its main aim was to ensure the regaining of Party control over the Writers’ Union.315 The meeting was to begin with a report, prepared by literary critic and Minister of Higher Education, Stefan Żółkiewski, on the state of Polish literature.316 However, strikingly, a handwritten note was attached to the report, stating

313 Ibid, Appendix to Minutes from the Plenary Congress 1958, pp: 1-2. 314 Bolecki (1997), p: 53. 315 From now on referred to as the Politburo. 316 Partia i literaci… (1996), pp: 33-64.

169 that it should not be accepted as part of the meeting’s proceedings. An analysis of the report suggests that it was considered too liberal for the Politburo meeting, at which

Gomułka was present.317 Furthermore, Żółkiewski’s name was omitted from further documentation regarding groups of trusted writers who would help the Party regain control over literary circles.318 Party officials were clearly showing little leniency, even towards writers who were loyal Party members. Moreover, cutting the report out of the meeting’s plan indicates that the Party controlled its members perhaps even more thoroughly than it did non-members. Regarding the Soviet Writers’ Union, Matlock argued that official reports were screened by the Presidium ahead of meetings, allowing for control both over the subjects to be discussed, and the ways in which they could be discussed.319 The same situation clearly existed in Poland; the rejection of a report was a clear sign that the authorities were determined to control the meeting’s agenda. The aim to exert control is also evident in the fact that the note outlined the major measures to be taken in relation to the Writers’ Union.320 The note lacked a signature, and its authorship cannot be determined.321

The anonymous note held that the POP did not sufficiently support the Party’s aims, and so outlined a number of directives to the Primary Party Organisation [Podstawowa

Organizacja Partyjna-POP]. Following the closure of Europa in 1957, the Party and the

317 Notwithstanding Żółkiewski’s support for the system as a member of the State National Council and of the Parliament, he was a political realist who was continuously making attempts to advance Polish literature and higher education. He held the post of Minister of Higher Education between 1956 and 1959. 318 Partia i literaci… (1996), p: 102. 319 Matlock (1956), p: 389. 320 Partia i literaci… (1996), pp: 75-76. 321 The note was most likely written by a member of the Party’s Central Committee, possibly within the Central Committee’s Department of Culture.

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POP had lost prominent literary members like Ważyk, Jastrun, Hertz, Kott, and

Andrzejewski. In 1958, the famous poet Julian Przyboś left the PZPR and POP in protest against the arrest and execution of Imre Nagy, the leader of the 1956 Hungarian revolution. The loss of such prominent figures, who rejected the country’s dominant ideology, seriously undermined the POP’s position and its influence on Union members.

The authorities were also concerned about the fact that members of the POP did not actively support the Party’s aims and even expressed anti-Party views at POP meetings.

This accusation was personally directed at Jan Wyka, a writer and long-term Party supporter. As the Party attempted to regain control over literary circles, the new leadership of POP was chosen. Jerzy Putrament, who was a party loyalist and more of a political figure than a writer, won the election. Kruczkowski, former Union President and a loyal Party member, helped Putrament implement changes in POP activities.322

However, the voting process which resulted in the new leadership of POP had to take place several times in order to achieve a result which satisfied the authorities, indicating that the Party struggled to control the POP, even though it consisted only of Party members.

The directives pertaining to the POP were mostly concerned with re-organisational issues and excluding members ‘lacking organisational discipline’.323 This indicates that the regaining of control was approached strategically and started as a top-down initiative. For the Union, several measures were proposed. One of the directives was aimed at replacing Słonimski as Union President because he ‘does not guarantee [the

322 Partia i literaci… (1996), p: 70. 323 Ibid, p: 74.

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Union’s] loyal attitude toward the Party’.324 Yet the directives also stated that making any replacements in the Union should be treated with caution and should be postponed to a later date. This indicates that Party officials feared the reaction it could cause amongst literary circles.

The note also states that ‘the Executive Board of the Union must be informed that the views expressed during the [1958] congress will not be tolerated because they are in opposition to the Party line’.325 It was suggested that the Europa editorial team, whose members were on the Executive Board, should be repressed, which would include removing them from editorial boards, limiting their work in publishing houses, banning travel abroad and stricter censoring of their works.326 The situation was the same for those writers who had first faced coercion in 1957. The note added that the repression was temporary, especially regarding permission to travel abroad.327 As in 1957, writers expected that after a few months the authorities would forget about repression, lift the restrictions, and the situation would stabilise again.328

The main measure required trusted writers-Party members to actively participate in POP meetings, which meant ‘assisting with ideological development among literary circles’.329 As argued by Matlock, people who demonstrated explicit loyalty to the goals

324 Ibid, point 2, p: 75. 325 Ibid, point 3, p: 75. 326 Ibid, point 5, p: 75-76. 327 Ibid, point 5, p: 75. 328 Bikont and Szczęsna (2006), p: 309. Please see also Hass, Ludwik (2000) ‘Cenzura i inne mechanizmy sterowania historykami w latach PRL’ [Censorship and other Methods of Controlling Historians during PRL], in Romek, Zbigniew (2000) Cenzura w PRL. Relacje historyków [Censorship in PRL. Historians’ accounts], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo NERITON History Institute of the Polish Academy of Sciences, p: 87. 329 Partia i literaci… (1996), p: 74.

172 of the Party-state had dominated in various committee meetings since the creation of the Soviet Writers’ Union.330 Despite the fact that the period analysed by Matlock precedes this study, there is an undeniable analogy; an examination of the minutes from the 1956 Congress provide evidence that this practice was also used in Poland in the

1940s and early 1950s.331 In 1959, the Party decided to return to this practice by means of organisational changes, with the POP implementing the requirement that its members should attend all meetings.

Early 1960s - the Quiet before the Storm

Following the Politburo meeting in January 1959 which resulted in broad action aimed at the Party regaining control over literary circles, there was a brief period of stabilisation of relations between the Party and writers. However, the authorities did not stop their attempts to place the literary circles under ever stricter control. The

Crooked Wheel Club [Klub Krzywego Koła], created during the thaw in 1955, was closed in 1962. The membership of this discussion club was varied, and included prominent figures from numerous creative professions. It also included people closely connected to the Party, as well as its opponents, with membership based on mutual respect. Well- known literary figures such as Leszek Kołakowski, Hertz, Paweł Jasienica, Przyboś,

Kisielewski, and Słonimski were members of the club, which offered space for the expression of different opinions, even those critical of the political system. It was

330 Matlock (1956), p: 383. 331 For a more detailed description of this practice during Stalinist period in Poland please see also: Woźniakowski (1990), pp: 54-55.

173 informal, which was possibly a reason for its long survival. It was, however, under constant Party supervision, with members of the Central Committee of the PZPR present at its meetings.332 The closure of the Crooked Wheel made the ZLP the only official forum criticising the authorities.333

The examination of reports from Executive Board meetings between 1963 and 1964 clearly demonstrate that the intensifying restrictions on freedom of speech became a significant issue for the Union. Censorship was linked to the shortage of paper made available for contemporary and classic literature. From the 1940s the authorities had control over the dispensing of paper. The needs of readers were not taken into consideration; the authorities decided what was published and which periodicals were allowed to exist. Furthermore, the authorities decided on the size of editions by stipulating the amount of paper available for the printing of each book, poetry volume or periodical. It is interesting to note that the first branch to protest about paper shortages was the POP Warsaw Branch of the Union.334

The paper shortage was discussed regularly at meetings of the Union’s Executive Board.

The ZLP’s Publishing Committee worked out a plan for nationwide action to obtain paper from schools, with pupils encouraged to collect recycled paper which could be used for printing literary works. According to minutes from the ZG meetings, this proposition was rejected by the authorities at a meeting of members of the Executive Board which was

332 Rokicki, Konrad (2006) ‘Służba Bezpieczeństwa wobec inteligencji twórczej od października ’56 do marca ’68’ [Security Service and creative intelligentsia from October 1956 to March 1968], Pamięć i Sprawiedliwość 2(10), p: 171. 333 Ibid, p: 171. 334 Rokicki, Konrad (2012) ‘„Język polski jest tak bogaty, giętka jest nasza mowa!” POP OW ZLP i jej stosunek do polityki kierownictwa partyjnego w latach 1956–1970’ [„Polish is such a rich language, flexible is our talk!” Primary Party Organisation of the Polish Writers’ Union and its attitude towards the Party politics between 1956 and 1970], Pamięć i Sprawiedliwość 11/1 (19), p: 145.

174 attended by the minister of Culture and Arts, Tadeusz Galiński.335 The same report mentions a discussion between ZG members about the next step to be taken regarding the paper issue. The plenum decided that the Union would start an action ‘in all available newspapers and journals which was to be aimed at defending the paper allowance for contemporary and classical literature, creating pressure on the public (…), so the issue of paper will be discussed in the meetings of various departments’.336 However, taking into account the Party’s monopoly on the press industry, it is not surprising that neither the minutes of subsequent Board meetings, nor the secondary literature, mention the

ZLP’s press action.

The paper shortage and its use for censorship purposes could not have been positively received by writers. The Union’s repeated attempts at negotiations resulted in the following response on the part of the authorities. The Union’s president, Jarosław

Iwaszkiewicz reported to the Plenum that according to the Parliamentary Committee, the main cause of the paper shortage was the high cost of paper-making machines, which resulted in a shortage in the country’s paper production. He added that ‘due to the worldwide demand for paper, export will not be stopped or limited’.337 The official statement confirmed that paper allowance for literary works would remain the same.

Union Executives responded with a letter to the government insisting that ‘restrictions on paper will have drastic effects on the state of Polish culture and literature’.338 The

335 Protokół Nr 4 z zebrania ZG ZLP 06/09/1963 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 4 06/09/1963], p: 30. 336 Ibid, p: 30. 337 Protokół Nr 9 z zebrania ZG ZLP 04/10/1963 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 9 04/10/1963], p: 104. 338 Ibid, p: 105.

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Executive Board did not give up its attempts to negotiate with the authorities, but as the minutes from a meeting of February 1964 demonstrate, they did not bring about positive results: ‘the issue of paper has been continuously negotiated with the authorities; however, despite signs of goodwill, there are no effects so far’.339

The state monopoly over paper production was used firstly to control literary output by limiting the paper available for contemporary and classical literature, and secondly, to punish writers expressing views which opposed the Party-line and to reward loyal supporters of the Party-state. This became evident when the authorities used the paper shortage as an excuse for ‘merging’ two major periodicals, Nowa Kultura and Przegląd

Kulturalny, which were perceived as problematic, and replacing them with Kultura.340

The minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board clearly demonstrate that this was vitally important to the Union as many Union members were on the editorial boards or were publishing their work in these journals. Iwaszkiewicz proposed an official resolution, which was approved by the Board, that ‘the Board decides to document the negative attitude of the literary circles towards the closure of Przegląd Kulturalny, and to send a letter to the Minister of Culture and Arts; the letter is to be hand-delivered to the Minister’.341

339 Protokół Nr 14 z zebrania ZG ZLP 07/02/1964 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 14 07/02/1964], p: 130. 340 Rokicki (2012), p: 147. 341 Protokół Nr 7 z zebrania ZG ZLP 03/06/1963 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 7 03/06/1963], p: 87.

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While the closure of both periodicals was negatively received by the writers, Przegląd

Kulturalny caused more concern because it was a specialised periodical which required of readers a certain level of knowledge about politics, literary theory and arts. This periodical was described by Gomułka’s personal secretary as ‘definitely harmful’ but

‘justifying (this claim) will not be easy (…) as the periodical is run very skilfully with regards to politics’.342 In a note written by Gomułka’s secretary, it was also stated that opinions were expressed in a very subtle way and the periodical was based on an objective and liberal approach.343 Despite the subtlety of the views expressed in

Przegląd Kulturalny, the editorial line was not acceptable to the Party-state. Nowa

Kultura, the Union’s official journal which had been created in 1950, and Przegląd

Kulturalny, the official journal of the Ministry of Culture and Arts which was created in

1952, were closed down as neither the writers nor the editorial teams were fulfilling the duties assigned to them by the authorities. On 16 May 1963, the official decision of the

PZPR’s Department of Culture of the Central Committee regarding the closure of Nowa

Kultura and Przegląd Kulturalny was announced in the press.

The newly created Kultura was to reduce publishing opportunities for writers who were discontented with cultural politics. The editorial team of the new periodical consisted of loyal Party supporters, which ensured that the Party could exert more control over its output. Furthermore, the paper shortage was used to diminish the Union’s agency since it was the official reason for the ‘merger’. Union appeals did not bring results, so literary

342 Rokicki, Konrad (2008) ‘Nie wygracie z partią. Sprawa warszawskiej ‘Kultury’ 1963’ [You will not win with the Party. The case of Warsaw ‘Culture’ 1963], Biuletyn Instytutu Pamięci Narodowej 8/9 (91-92), p: 28. 343 Ibid.

177 circles boycotted Kultura and demanded the government’s permission to create another press outlet which would be the Union’s organ. Regarding the possibility of creating a second journal which would create balance and allow for literary debate, Gomułka’s stance was clear: ‘this is not open for debate’, he stated. ‘If anyone thought there would be a discussion debating the existence of one or two journals, they were wrong: there will be no discussion’.344

Restrictions on the paper allowance and the government’s refusal to create another press outlet led to a growth in dissatisfaction amongst Union members. Before the end of the year, another event took place which stirred up the tension. At the Executive

Board meeting held on 16 September, ‘The Presidium decided to propose a motion at the plenary meeting of the Board to not hold a Plenary Congress (in 1963) and to hold a congress in Lublin (in 1964)’.345 The Presidium’s proposal to cancel the 1963 Congress went against statutory rules. The official reason was that in 1964 the PRL would have existed for 20 years, and Lublin was the city in which the Provisional Government of the

Republic of Poland had been created in 1944. Thus ‘the congress would discuss the literature of the past 20 years and debate the literary problems of this period’.346 The executives of the Board also stated that in place of the 1963 Congress, ‘the Board and the POP propose to hold an extended meeting of the Board and leaders of regional branches devoted to ideological matters’.347 At the next meeting, the Board passed a motion ‘to postpone the XIV Congress to the year 1964, while this year a plenary

344 Rokicki (2011), p: 232. 345 Protokół Nr 8 z zebrania ZG ZLP 16/09/1963 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 8 16/09/1963], p: 96. 346 Ibid. 347 Ibid, p: 97.

178 meeting of the Union devoted to debating the XIII meeting of the Central Committee will take place’.348 This plenary meeting was to include ‘reports from the delegates from the Central Committee, and an ideological debate’.349

There are two possible reasons for the cancellation of the 1963 congress. Firstly, the

Party had taken a stricter approach to cultural politics, and tensions between the authorities and the writers had grown accordingly. However, this new direction was set by the Soviet leader. In March 1963, Khrushchev gave a speech ‘High Idealism and

Artistic Mastery are the Great Power of Soviet Literature and Arts’,350 which set out the new course for literature. Ideology, as understood by the Party, became the main feature of the creative arts once again, and Khrushchev rejected the notion that the

Western arts had any positive influence on creativity in the Soviet bloc. After a brief relaxation of the rules, then, cultural directives now resembled those of the Stalinist period. This was soon reflected in Gomułka’s speech at the XIII Plenary meeting of the

Central Committee of the PZPR, which took place from the 4th to the 6th July 1963. He insisted that ‘the party does not want to interfere with professional matters (…), but at the same time, the party supports the production of socialist realist art.’ This clearly indicated that Poland would follow Moscow’s cultural directives and tighten control over literary output.351 As Rokicki argued, the effects of the change on the ‘cultural front’ were felt immediately, with publishing companies becoming cautious and returning

348 Protokół Nr 9 z zebrania ZG ZLP 04/10/1963 [Minutes...Executive Board of the Union No 9 04/10/1963], p: 101. 349 Ibid. 350 Rokicki (2011), p: 226. 351 Fik, Marta (1991) Kultura polska po Jałcie. Kronika lat 1944-1981 [Polish Culture after Yalta. Chronicle of the years 1944-1981], London: Polonia, p: 353.

179 many books to their authors for corrections, despite the fact that contracts had already been signed and printing had begun.352

Another reason for postponing the 1963 congress was that the new Executive Board and the new Union president had yet to be chosen. Despite attempts by the Board and

Iwaszkiewicz to improve the professional lives of writers by going through the official channels, there were no tangible effects. The resolution of issues such as the Authors’

Convention, pensions, the Literary Fund, the new literary periodical, and paper allowances were constantly postponed by the government organs. Both the Board and

Iwaszkiewicz, then, failed during their term to meet the Union’s demands. Indeed, if the cancellation of the congress was a top-down directive from Party officials, as was probably the case, Iwaszkiewicz and the Board’s executives appear to have been willing to comply with this directive. The probable reason for this was that the new Author’s

Convention was promised to the Union in early 1964, and that Iwaszkiewicz hoped that by the 1964 Congress he would be able to report at least partial success as the Union’s

President.

The Review Committee353 of Union did attempt to stop the cancellation of the Congress by pointing out that ‘the Executive Board did not comply with the regulations (Union

Members were not consulted on the decisions), therefore breaking statutory laws’.354 In response, Putrament acknowledged that ‘the Review Committee is correct; nonetheless, breaking the statutory laws (…) did not harm the Union’s activities and can

352 Rokicki (2011), p: 226. 353 The Review Committee’s main task was ensuring that Union’s actions comply with the statutory regulations. Additional tasks and the role of the Committee is explained in more detail in Chapter 1: The Institutional Profile of the Union of Polish Writers, p: 41. 354 Protokół Nr 14 z zebrania ZG ZLP 07/02/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 14 07/02/1964], p: 129.

180 be judged positively’.355 Putrament was considered to be expressing the official Party- line, and it was evident that this was a top-down directive.

This decision, which ignored the opinions of most of the regular ZLP members, did not have positive repercussions. The illegal cancellation of the Congress, Gomułka’s speech setting a new direction in literature, the paper shortage and the delay in addressing

Union members’ financial issues, added to an already tense atmosphere. Some members of literary circles were not prepared to accept the Party’s tactics, and voiced their opposition in a letter to the Minister of Culture which became known as the most famous intelligentsia protest against censorship and cultural politics: the ‘Letter of the

34’.

The storm came – the 34 write a letter

The ‘Letter of the 34’ caused a strong reaction from Party officials, with Gomułka expressing his dissatisfaction in a speech to the IV PZPR Plenum on 15 June 1964, three months after the letter’s delivery to the Department of Culture and Arts:

In cultural circles, there are people at odds with our political system. Under the

pretext of a fight for the freedom of creativity, they demand freedom for anti-

socialist propaganda. Sometimes they go further and consciously ask for support

from reactionary, hostile foreign organisations.356

355 Ibid. 356 Gomułka’s speech regarding the directives for the development of education, science and culture at IV Plenum of the Polish United Workers’ Party published in Nowe Drogi (1964) 7, p: 83.

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From Gomułka’s speech, it is obvious that the cause of the Party’s strong reaction was that the content of the letter was leaked abroad and was broadcast by Radio Free

Europe and other press outlets. The liberal former Union president Słonimski played a large role in the genesis of the letter in March 1964. Słonimski, together with the renowned publicist, critic and historian Jan Józef Lipski, collected signatures from prominent writers and professors. The action was kept quiet and was limited to 34 signatures, as the initiators planned this to be a protest on the part only of prominent cultural figures. The signatories represented different political views, from Catholic circles, conservatives, and liberals like Słonimski, including PZPR members, and the authorities were concerned that oppositional intelligentsia members were uniting against the regime. On 14 March a letter addressed to Prime Minister, Józef

Cyrankiewicz, was hand-delivered by Słonimski to the offices of the Council of Ministers.

The letter consisted of two sentences:

Restrictions on the allocation of paper for printing books and magazines and the

tightening of press censorship create a situation threatening the development of

national culture. The undersigned, recognising the existence of the public, the

right to criticize, open debate and reliable information as necessary elements of

progress, and motivated by citizens’ concern, demand changes in cultural politics

in the spirit of rights guaranteed by the constitution and in accordance with the

good of the nation.357

357 Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, p: 48.

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The contents of the letter appear to be non-antagonistic and to leave room for discussion with the authorities. However, the issue of censorship was a cause for concern both for writers and the government. The initial reaction on the part of the government was to ignore the letter and attempt to prevent it from being reported abroad.358 As Rokicki suggested, the authorities were possibly surprised by this new form of protest and initially did not know how to proceed.359 However, on 26 March, the letter’s content was broadcast by Radio Free Europe.360 This escalated the situation, and some signatories were forced to have meetings with Party officials, were no longer able to publish their work, and were banned from traveling abroad. The Party was assuming that repressing the signatories would not lead to an increase in support from other members of the intelligentsia. However, it was the strong government reaction to the letter that made it so famous and led to national and international debates regarding freedom of speech in Poland.

In response, the POP, following Party instructions, started gathering signatures for a letter asserting that the ‘Letter of the 34’ was being used for the purpose of hostile

358 Rokicki, Konrad (2006) ‘Sprawa „listu 34” w materiałach MSW’ [The case of the „Letter of 34” in the materials of the Ministry of Internal Affairs], Polska 1944-1989: Materiały i studia 7, pp: 202-203. Neither Cyrankiewicz nor any of the Party leadership responded to the letter in an official manner. However, as soon as the Ministry of Internal Affairs (Ministerstwo Spraw Wewnętrznych-MSW) established that the letter was being circulated among members of the Polish intelligentsia, Lipski was arrested and interrogations of people involved with disseminating the letter began, including Słonimski who made a copy of the letter available to his friend. Lipski remained in custody for a few days only, as Kisielewski (a member of the parliament) along with the lawyer Aniela Steinberg professor Maria Ossowska and Słonimski intervened in his case. An interesting fact here is that apart from the lawyer all of the intervening people were signatories of the letter and still they managed to mediate with the authorities. 359 Rokicki (2006), p: 203. 360 Eisler (1993), p: 54.

183 propaganda. As a result of pressure on Union members, 600 people signed. This could be interpreted as a win for the Party and a demonstration of the level of obedience in literary circles. However, there is a strong possibility that some signatures were falsified, especially those of Union members in provincial towns.361 Moreover, the version of the letter presented to Union members was not the version which was later published in the media. Thus, several writers later attempted to officially withdraw their signatures.362 Furthermore, representatives of the Regional Branches of Gdańsk, Kraków and Wrocław ‘accused the Board of hasty and misguided actions’, and ‘expressed regret that the presidents of the regional branches were not informed of the intended action’

(that is, producing a letter opposing the 34), which they did not support.363 Hence the action initiated by Party officials in order to consolidate support for the Party line did not have the intended result, which was to bring opposition writers back into line.

Iwaszkiewicz was put in a difficult situation since as head of the Union he had to take a stand on the matter. His initial reaction, according to his diaries, was one of defeat and despair:

I must assume that my way of politics (running the Union) failed despite the fact

that I did it with deep conviction. Thirty-four serious people inflicted a major

blow, which I will not be able to overcome, even in the eyes of history.364

361 Rokicki (2011), p: 288. 362 Protokół Nr 17 z zebrania ZG ZLP 07/05/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 17 07/05/1964], p: 160. 363 Protokół Nr 19 z zebrania ZG ZLP 19/06/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 19 19/06/1964], p: 165. 364 Iwaszkiewicz, Jarosław (2010) Dzienniki 1964-1980 tom III [Diaries 1911-1980 volume III], Warszawa: Czytelnik, note from 11/04/1964.

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Notwithstanding his personal annoyance with ‘the 34’, at a meeting with Gomułka on 4

May 1964, he pleaded on behalf of the repressed writers for the sanctions to be lifted.365

He put forward the concerns of the Union, which for years had been postponed by Party officials, such as the paper restrictions and the desire to create a new literary journal to balance the newly created and controversial Kultura.366 In his report to the Executive

Board meeting on 7 May 1964, Iwaszkiewicz reiterated his opinion on the ‘Letter of the

34’ and contended that the only possible direction now was to try to smooth things over with the authorities. The minutes from the Board meeting demonstrate that

Iwaszkiewicz ‘twice touched upon the matter of sanctions, asking among other things for a passport to be issued for Kott; and that while revoking the sanctions was not possible, they should be slowly lifted’367. Complementing Iwaszkiewicz’s report,

Putrament said that the ‘Board will intervene in individual cases (…); however, taking into consideration the indomitable stance of the organisers, an intervention to lift all the sanctions at once seems impossible.’ A further comment on the Party’s behaviour noted that ‘government organs are irritated and they result in chaotic directives’.368

It is likely that this was how the situation was perceived by most Union members. The

‘anti-letter’ was considered to be a bad idea both by the majority of Board members and the POP, including Putrament, even though most of them had signed it.369 During the

Board meeting, members expressed their dissatisfaction with the on-going action of the

365 Please see Chapter Three for details of the meeting. 366 Fik (1991), p: 361. 367 Protokół Nr 17 z zebrania ZG ZLP 07/05/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 17 07/05/1964], p: 157. 368 Ibid. 369 Rokicki (2011), p: 289.

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‘anti-letter’. Ryszard Matuszewski, literary critic and essayist, agreed with Iwaszkiewicz, who had earlier opposed ‘providing any declarations and signatures which can only exacerbate the atmosphere and cause unpredictable consequences’, and added that

‘any collective statements are undesirable and cause a chain reaction’.370 Wojciech

Żukrowski, a poet and playwright, demanded to know ‘who initiated the anti-letter’, and argued that this ‘misguided action is causing an avalanche of grievances and creates the impression of a humiliating poll’.371 Igor Newerly, leader of the Warsaw branch, went further; he argued that ‘publishing the resolution (“anti-letter”) is ill advised, and that the public should be informed about the situation regarding Iwaszkiewicz’s meeting with

Gomułka in a press interview.

However, the response of government organs regarding sanctions against signatories was chaotic; for example, the restrictions on travel abroad placed on Kott were lifted the following year, and despite the supposed ban on publications, his book Shakespeare

Our Contemporary was published by the Polish Scientific Publishers (PWN) in 1964.

Furthermore, at the end of 1964, the director of PWN commissioned an English translation, which was fully financed by the Polish Ministry of Culture and Arts.372 This resulted in Kott receiving an international award and an offer to teach at Yale University.

Having received his passport in 1965, he left for America in 1966 and never returned.

370 Protokół Nr 17 z zebrania ZG ZLP 07/05/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 17 07/05/1964], pp: 156-157. 371 Ibid. 372 Tighe (1999), p: 150.

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One of the most telling results of Iwaszkiewicz’s meeting with Gomułka was that

Gomułka was ‘invited’ to the next ZLP Congress. In fact it is likely that Gomułka and

Kliszko invited themselves, as they were both to attend the 1964 Congress. This was an unprecedented situation as it was the first time ever that a PZPR First Secretary took part in a Congress debate.

1964 Congress

The XIV Plenary Congress of the Writers’ Union took place in Lublin from 18 to 21

September 1964. Six of the signatories of the ‘Letter of the 34’ were chosen as delegates to the Congress; their names had been on the list of delegates proposed by the POP.373

There were other signatories on the list, but they refused to take part in the congress.374

All the same, the Party considered that having six representatives who were open oppositionists was proof that the POP was not functioning properly, and that its approval of these representatives demonstrated a level of support for the protesters within Party structures. The ‘34’ were aware that the congress would not be a forum for the expression of views at variance with the Party-line, since Gomułka’s opening speech was to set the tone for the debate, with the topics already having been decided in 1963.

The only vocal oppositional voice at the congress was that of Kisielewski.

373 Rokicki (2011), p: 296. 374 Writers who refused to be delegates to the 1964 Congress: Maria Dąbrowska, Słonimski, Anna Kowalska, Jerzy Andrzejewski, Mieczysław Jastrun, Kott, Ważyk, and Artur Sandauer.

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It is not surprising that there was no opposition, since Gomułka’s opening speech left little room for debate. He stated that the direction of ‘cultural politics was set at the XIII

Plenary meeting of the Central Committee’, and then contradicted himself by stating that ‘we (the Party) will not dictate how to write or what to write’.375 He briefly referred to the most controversial event of the year, ‘the letter of the 34’, as a topic which would not be debated at the congress. He noted that ‘there exists a situation filled with conflict between the Party and some literary circles, and mutual misunderstandings’, but followed this with a clear statement that ‘the Party will not abandon its position and its arguments, and it cannot do so’.376 In light of the new cultural direction set by

Khrushchev, and taking into consideration the Polish government’s attitude toward literary circles at that time, this statement demonstrates that the Party was unwilling to meet the writers’ demands.377

Regarding the pressing issue of the limited paper allowance, which constricted publishing at all levels, Iwaszkiewicz reported that due to successful attempts by the

Executive Board to fulfil the resolutions of the previous congress, the Board was granting an increase in the paper allowance, and that this had been approved in the wake of the

‘Letter of 34’. It is hard to establish, however, if it was really the controversial protest that forced this decision, or the patient politics of Iwaszkiewicz combined with continuous Union attempts. Yet Iwaszkiewicz insisted that he was ‘against assigning

375 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1964], pp: 62 and 57. (respectively) 376 Ibid, p: 63. 377 Polish political context, especially exerted level of control, was a direct response to the situation in the Soviet block and policies implemented by Soviet leaders. Just as Khrushchev’s speech initiated the Polish Thaw and the revolution in Hungary, his stricter approach and attempts to regain control changed the situation in Poland as Gomułka followed the suit with regards to cultural policies.

188 achievements of the Board, whose prolonged attempts are improving the profession and life of writers, to the “34”’.378

The writers’ demand that a new literary journal be created was refused. Furthermore, their hope for the lifting of paper restrictions ended when Gomułka announced that

‘when it comes to the paper situation (…) the state loses on import and export about 5 million zlotys a year. It can be said - look for it somewhere else’.379 Any ideas the Union had about how to obtain paper from other sources (such as getting recycled paper from schools) were rejected by the authorities. Even though the congress did not demonstrate open opposition, and only a few voices mentioned the fact that the Union was still waiting for its own press outlet, the congress was not an unmitigated success for the Party. Kisielewski’s bold question at the end of his speech was one which many writers had been thinking:

Will there, in the next 20 years in the Polish Republic, be greater freedom of

literary genres and unconstrained debate, with differing opinions in press, radio

or TV, which at the end of the first 20 years were destroyed in such a humiliating

way?380

378 Protokół Nr 19 z zebrania ZG ZLP 19/06/1964 [Minutes from the meeting of the Executive Board of the Polish Writers’ Union No 19 19/06/1964], p: 165. 379 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1964], p: 67. 380 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1964], p: 106.

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The fact that the congress of 1964 was largely quiet did not mean opposition was crushed. The relatively open debates at Board and POP meetings simply moved to different forums. The Executive Board’s meeting, Board meetings which were open to the public, and POP meetings became forums for the exchange of different views.

Although the authorities had held a congress in which there were no real controversies, they did not gain control over literary circles. The division between Party and non-Party writers was no longer significant. POP members were divided, and their loyalty could not be assured. With the Party unable to control even its own organs and members, it struggled even more to control other Union members. Lack of consistency regarding sanctions and temporary repression against the signatories of the ‘Letter of the 34’ often amounted to little more than a slap on the wrist, especially for prominent, financially stable writers. By pursuing the matter relentlessly in the media and by unleashing the

‘anti-letter’ the authorities actually worked against themselves, raising the status and position of the protesters.

Słonimski, who was banned from publishing in the Szpilki [Needles] journal, sarcastically stated that he ‘would not want to write for Szpilki anyway because the case of “the 34” morally elevated my status in society to such an extent that it would now be beneath me to do so’.381 His comment related to the government press organ Kultura, which had been boycotted by prominent literary figures; Słonimski listed 51 writers who refused to write for it, including the Union’s president.382 This debate took place at the 1965

Congress, indicating that the unprecedented presence of Gomułka at the previous

381 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1965, Dzień II [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1965, Day II], p: 34. 382 Ibid, pp: 34-35.

190 congress was the reason for the lack of different opinions expressed at that one. Post-

1964, the relative stability of the relationship between the authorities and writers resulted in another quiet period before the storm. However, tension continued to escalate until 1968, when the Union initiated another protest against censorship as a reaction to the government ban on performances of Adam Mickiewicz’s play The

Forefathers.

The Dark End of the 1960s

March 1968 marked both the culmination of censorship issues, and the height of the government-initiated anti-Semitic campaign, which was used against the intelligentsia whose members was protesting against ever stricter censorship. From 1964, the publishing situation had been deteriorating, and state control over cultural production had grown since from the early 1960s Gomułka’s government had increased the use of the Security Service (SB). It was common knowledge that literary circles were under surveillance, and writers took precautions when discussing political issues.383 Since

1956, infrequent political trials had been the Party’s way of dealing with writers who stepped out of line. Słonimski commented on this at the Special Meeting of the ZLP’s

Warsaw Branch on 29 February 1968: ‘(…) the Small Penal Code [Mały Kodeks Karny] has returned with full force. People no longer vanish without trial but the severity and vindictiveness of court judgments have resumed.’384 Słonimski’s comment referred to

383 The level of surveillance and the Party’s interest in the literary circles is best exemplified by the extreme example of a poet called Jasienica, whose second wife was an SB employee. She wrote reports on him and his fellow writers almost daily. 384 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 29/02/1968 [Minutes from a Special Plenary Meeting of the Warsaw Branch], p: 43.

191 the recent trial of a former Warsaw University student, Nina Karsov, and her former professor, Szymon Szechter, whose crime had been to collect information on several political trials. During searches of their apartments, an ‘opera’ by Janusz Szpotański was discovered. Szpotański, a poet and satirist, wrote a satirical ‘opera’ entitled Cisi i

Gęgacze [The Quiet and Loquacious Ones] which was considered offensive towards the government and the state police. Szechter was released for health reasons and continued to try to help Karsov, but Karsov and Szpotański were each sentenced to three years in prison.385 These trials exemplify the growing restrictions and stricter censorship after Szpotański was sentenced to three years for the crime of singing his ‘opera’ in the privacy of his friends’ home.386

From the famous protest of ‘the 34’, until the events of 1968, the tension between cultural circles and the authorities continued to grow. The political trials of intelligentsia members, the government’s monopoly on the publishing industry, stricter censorship, the constant surveillance of writers, the unresolved issue of the paper allowance, and the continued ignoring of the finances of Union members, were bound to escalate the tension. All these events were a backdrop to the nation-wide anti-Semitic campaign initiated by the government as part of the power struggle between different factions in the PZPR. This campaign started after the 1967 Arab-Israeli War which began on 5 June and lasted for six days. The Polish government condemned Israeli aggression and began an ‘anti-Zionist campaign’ which soon got out of hand as the anti-Semitic mood grew.

Poles of Jewish descent lost their jobs and many decided to leave the country.

385 Rokicki (2011), p: 401. 386 Karsov was named ‘prisoner of the year 1968’ by Amnesty International, what resulted in her realise from prison the same year.

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This is not surprising because as early as 19 June 1967, Gomułka, in a speech at the

Congress of Professional Unions, stated that ‘we do not want a fifth column in our country (applause). We cannot be indifferent toward those people who in the face of the endangerment of world peace, and therefore the security of Poland (…), are supporting the aggressor’.387 He further stated that ‘every Polish citizen should have only one homeland – the Polish People’s Republic’, and insisted that the government had never impeded emigration to Israel for people with Jewish roots. In this way

Gomułka gave permission for anti-Semitic behaviour, such as denouncing people at work simply because of their Jewish origin.

This campaign was hurtful to the intelligentsia as, traditionally, it included many members of Jewish origin. Furthermore, many Polish citizens of Jewish descent worked in Party and Security organs, and the campaign allowed certain political figures to secure their positions or get promoted as Jewish people were pushed aside.388 It is hard to determine the extent to which Polish society believed the government slogans and supported the campaign, as there is a lack of social surveys from this period; accordingly, it is only possible to generalise about the extent of support. However, mass emigration, anti-Semitic demonstrations on the part of industrial workers and the number of denunciations by co-workers suggest that even if Polish society did not fully support the state campaign, it allowed many people to advance their careers and gain various

387 Stola, Dariusz (2000) Kampania antysyjonistyczna w Polsce 1967-1968 [Anti-Zionist Campaign in Poland between 1967-1968], Warszawa: Instytut Studiów Politycznych PAN, p: 274. 388 Eisler (1991), p: 125-127.

193 privileges. Vocal support of the campaign or silent opportunism on the part of most

Poles made the end of the 1960s a dark period in Polish history.

Growing tension between writers and the authorities, combined with bubbling pressure within the country, were bound to escalate ‘at the most unpredictable point; where even the most innocent circumstances lose their neutrality and become dangerous ignition points’.389 This culminated in student protests and the organisation of a Special

Meeting of the Warsaw branch following rumours throughout 1967 about the ban on performances of the Forefathers.

According to the statute, a special/emergency meeting could be held by a branch, if over a third of members signs a petition. Therefore, the collection of signatures in the

Warsaw Branch which had 626 members began.390 An interesting fact here is that the collection was organised not only by the non-party members of the ZLP but also by members of the POP, mainly Alicja Lisiecka. The result was such that 42 members (this number has not yet been verified) of the POP (including Anna Bukowska- wife of

Gomułka’s personal secretary) signed the petition to call a Special Meeting of the

Warsaw Branch in order to debate the case of the ban on The Forefathers.391

The Warsaw meeting took place on 29 February 1968. Calling such a meeting was unprecedented, and it caused alarm in the Party. At the beginning of the meeting, the

Presiding Committee was chosen, with Wanda Żółkiewska, the Warsaw Branch leader,

389 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania OW 29/02/1968, p: 65. 390 Rokicki (2011), p: 404. 391 Ibid.

194 becoming the Chair, and editor of the Poezja [Poetry] journal, Artur Międzyrzecki and

Newerly elected as assessors.392 The meeting started with a report from the Party representative, the Director General of the Ministry of Culture and Arts, Stanisław

Witold Balicki. He was to provide official reasons for the ban on performances of The

Forefathers in the National Theatre. Balicki’s report was to be followed by a debate and a vote on the resolution banning the play. It was decided that the voting would be anonymous.

Balicki’s speech made an already tense situation worse by presenting a government stance on the issue which, at times, was blatantly untrue. Balicki was interrupted by

‘bursts of laughter in the room’.393 The main issues debated at the meeting revolved around censorship, and student protests about the ban on the play. According to

Balicki’s speech the main reason for the Party’s action was the fact that ‘performances of The Forefathers became a pretext for opposition demonstrations of irresponsible people; it was decided to remove The Forefathers [from the theatre’s program] to protect, mainly, the greatness of Mickiewicz’.394 This statement was problematic to most delegates because Balicki claimed that demonstrations were the reason to prohibit further performances. In fact it was rumours of the Party’s decision to ban the play which had caused the protest.395

392 Apart from Newerly, who left PZPR in 1966 following removal of Kołakowski, the rest were members of the POP of the ZLP. 393 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania OW 29/02/1968, p: 32. 394 Ibid., p: 32 395 Eisler, Jerzy (1991) Marzec 1968 [March 1968], Warszawa: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, p: 171.

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Writers who took part in the debate reminded the forum that the sequence of events was not as reported by Balicki, and defended the students as they were experiencing repression because of their protest. In response to accusations against the demonstrating students, Słonimski, who spoke first, stated that ‘to avoid responsibility for this disastrous and hasty decision the leadership blamed the youth’.396 Jasienica, who was closely connected to the protesting students, was more straightforward, claiming that ‘these young people are good; they are concerned with something more than their careers’.397 The room applauded his statement, the validity of which was clear to everyone present. The protesting students faced expulsion from the university, court trials, and subsequent trouble finding jobs, a particular problem in a nationally planned economy where obtaining a post was dependant on personal connections and Party loyalty. Most speakers showed solidarity with the students and the speakers who had preceded them. Jastrun defended the protesters by explaining that ‘youth always ignites quickly, because youth always reacts intensely’.398 Jerzy Andrzejewski, a renowned novelist and screen-play writer, and co-initiator of the ‘Letter of the 34’, argued that

‘student protests are not a result of hostility, and the reason behind them is care about this country and its people who live, work and create here’.399

Międzyrzecki contested Balicki’s report and stated that ‘the protests were caused by that fact (the ban) which frightened and disturbed all of us’.400 From the minutes of this special meeting it is clear that most of the writers did not agree with the state-approved

396 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania OW 29/02/1968, p: 43. 397 Ibid, p: 48. 398 Ibid, p: 58. 399 Ibid, p: 87. 400 Ibid, p: 97.

196 interpretation of events. There was a raucous atmosphere, with constant interruptions, applause at the speeches of Słonimski, Jasienica, Międzyrzecki and Andrzejewski, and outbreaks of laughter during the speeches of Balicki and the executive of the POP,

Henryk Gaworski. This expression of feelings was most noticeable during the discussion about the extent of censorship and the ban on the play.

The authorities accused The Forefathers, directed by the famous Polish theatre director

Kazimierz Dejmek, of containing an anti-Soviet message and causing opposition demonstrations. The writers at the meeting expressed dissatisfaction with restrictions on the performances, and the government’s politics as a whole. Due to the closed nature of the meeting, people were able to give their personal views. However, everyone was aware that reports on everything that was said would be delivered to the governing officials. All the same, writers expressed their discontent freely. The biggest controversy was caused by the official governmental report. In addition to blaming protesting students for the ban on Mickiewicz’s play, Balicki announced that blame should also be attributed ‘to this part of the audience, who, even after seeing the performance a few times, expressed their opinions and their oppositional stand against our reality in an irresponsible way’.401 Balicki accused the audience of interpreting parts of the play in

‘the wrong way’, making connections between partitioned Poland and 1960s Poland.

Censoring individual interpretations of an artistic production was not acceptable to many writers. In response to Balicki’s accusations about those who had seen the play,

401 Ibid, p: 32.

197

Jastrun posed the question: ‘can we even talk about the correct interpretation of Pan

Tadeusz [Mr Tadeusz], Dziady [The Forefathers], or Potop [The Deluge]? This is completely absurd’.402 Kołakowski stated that ‘we arrived at an embarrassing situation whereby world dramaturgy – from Aeschylus through Shakespeare to Ionesco – became one big collection of allusions to the Polish People’s Republic’.403 He made a bold point regarding the resolution proposed by the POP regarding The Forefathers:

I am against the resolution proposed by Dobrowolski. (…) if we adopt this

resolution, I am convinced that the day after tomorrow we will read a huge

headline saying ‘Polish writers are protesting against anti-state

demonstrations.’ Nothing more will be said (applause).404

Kołakowski then commented on the state of censorship in Poland, omitting parts of the resolution and rephrasing it in a way which was acceptable to the Party-state. He opposed the motion proposed by Stanisław Ryszard Dobrowolski, a POP member and loyal Party-supporter, for being too mild. This is not surprising as this resolution was put forward by the POP and the United People’s Party (Zjednoczone Stronnictwo Ludowe-

ZSL), and so it was state-approved.405 The resolution was long, filled with safe statements that would not be antagonistic to the authorities. Dobrowolski read out the officially approved resolution which, after praising the cultural achievements of the PRL, stated that ‘(we) deplore the fact that the ban on performances of The Forefathers took

402 Ibid, p: 54. 403 Ibid, p: 68. 404 Ibid, p: 63. 405 Since 1949 the ZSL was a satellite party of the PZPR representing the PZPR’s interests in the rural areas.

198 place (applause)’.406 This was the only ‘protest’ statement in the resolution, which also criticised demonstrators and insisted that ‘the case of The Forefathers (…) became the reason for irresponsible demonstrations and was a pretext for actions (…) aimed at the politics of the Party and the government’.407

This passage explains why Kołakowski was worried about the public repercussions of voting through the POP proposal; it categorically criticised student protests and could be used against them in media reports. It is not surprising that the POP and ZSL position was similar to that which emerges from Balicki’s report. However, this was unacceptable to members of the unofficial opposition, who preferred a different version of the resolution which had been introduced by the literary critic Andrzej Kijowski. This was more concise and direct. It addressed the most important issues troubling literary circles, such as censorship interference, which ‘for a long time now has been increasing and intensifying; interference is not limited to the content of works but also includes their dissemination and public reception’.408 The resolution also stated that ‘the system of censorship and directives regarding cultural politics is arbitrary and classified; the powers of its organs and the ways to appeal are unregulated’.409 Kijowski’s resolution expressed concern about the deteriorating state of culture and drew writers’ attention to the fact that ‘writers’ demands (…) which were officially presented by the powers of the Union or renowned representatives of the writing community have not yet been taken into account’. Kijowski also demanded the reinstatement of The Forefathers;

406 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 29/02/1968, p: 34. 407 Ibid. 408 Ibid, p: 36. 409 Ibid.

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‘motivated by citizens’ concern, we call on the authorities to restore our age-long traditions of tolerance and creative freedom’.410

Again, cultural politics and, especially, censorship became the most pressing issues in the heated debate. The harshest criticism towards the government came in a speech by

Kisielewski. A vocal opponent of existing cultural politics, he expressed anger at the fact that several writers had disappeared from Polish culture due to censorship, which he described as ‘a clandestine institution, a country within a country which is functioning on unknown principles’.411 Kisielewski ended his speech by supporting Kijowski’s resolution ‘which puts the matter holistically against a backdrop of this scandalous dictatorship of ignoramuses in the cultural life of Poland’.412 Calling Party officials a

‘dictatorship of ignoramuses’ achieved legendary status when the authorities attempted to discredit protesting writers and diminish the social and political meaning of the

Warsaw meeting by instigating a nation-wide media campaign. On 11 March, in the midst of escalating police violence toward protesting students and the propaganda campaign against literary circles, Kisielewski was badly beaten.413 The identity of the perpetrators is not known, but their professionalism and organised behaviour led to the conjecture that this was punishment for insulting the authorities, especially as MSW reports drew attention to the negative repercussions of Kisielewski’s remark and of the

Special Meeting as a whole.414

410 Ibid. 411 Ibid, p: 83. 412 Ibid, p: 85. 413 Rokicki (2011), p: 442. 414 Ibid.

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Kisielewski had not been the only one to insult the ruling class in the debate, nor was his invective the most offensive.415 Słonimski had asked if ‘immanent evil is intrinsic to the very foundations of communism’,416 while POP member Andrzej Tchórzewski noted that the decision-maker in the case of The Forefathers was ‘blind and stupid’.417 It has to be acknowledged that the POP seemed organised and attempted to follow the directives.

Despite the meeting’s atmosphere, which was not supportive of speeches by loyal Party supporters, some of the most active POP members attempted to defend Dobrowolski’s resolution. Henryk Gaworski refused to ‘fight his Party’, not because ‘the Party would hit harder’ if he did so, but because it was ‘his’. He finished his speech with a strong statement: ‘back off from us, back off from our concerns’, which caused loud protests from the floor.418 Notwithstanding the actions of POP members, it was obvious that their resolution might not get a majority of votes, especially given that the vote was anonymous (a successful opposition initiative). Accordingly, Putrament took a risk and tried to convince writers, with any means necessary, to accept the POP resolution.

Putrament was aware that Party officials were not pleased with the meeting and were worried about its outcome. He and the POP members might be held responsible for the proceedings and their outcome. The Vice-President of the Union commented on this fact, and attempted to convince the audience that he would discuss the writers’ views with Gomułka personally. He was interrupted and sarcastically advised not to expose himself to repercussions. Putrament replied that if he failed in these discussions, ‘they

415 Ibid, p: 113. 416 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 29/02/1968, p: 44. 417 Ibid, p: 113. 418 Ibid, pp: 71 and 73, respectively.

201 would not see him again; I carry the biggest responsibility for this meeting’.419 He knew that his career depended on loyalty, and he had proven over the years that he had this.

Yet seeing that the meeting might not achieve the desired result, he took a risk and told the writers that Gomułka ‘is hard to talk to, he does not like writers, and he has several other bad character traits, but he is the person who, at an extremely important time

[1956], could have done most for Poland in terms of Soviet-Polish relations’.

Putrament did not only apologise and explain the reasons to the writers for his comments about Gomułka in the report he sent to Kliszko.420 He also reminded them that their views concerning October 1956 were yet to be addressed, and asked them for a ‘vote of confidence’, promising that if he was given another month, he would conduct negotiations regarding The Forefathers.421 It seems that most writers were tired of waiting for the government to acknowledge their views, especially regarding censorship and freedom of speech. Słonimski expressed scepticism about Putrament’s promise, pointing out that ‘for 20 years now, they have kept promising that if we behave they will talk to us’.422 Putrament did not manage to convince the majority. In the anonymous vote, Kijowski’s resolution got 221 votes and Dobrowolski’s 124. 10 people returned blank voting cards, and one vote was invalid.

Despite the fact that this was the largest protest organised by ZLP members, it is clear that the politics of the Party regarding the POP, and its tightening control over literary

419 Ibid, p: 148. 420 Rokicki (2011), p: 436. 421 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania OW 29/02/1968, p: 146. 422 Ibid, p: 148.

202 circles, did bring results. The resolution proposed by the POP got 124 votes in an anonymous voting process. Despite an unfavourable atmosphere, loyal POP members defended the state-approved resolution. Divisions amongst writers were deep. Since

1956, it had been almost the same group of famous writers from Warsaw who initiated protest actions within the ZLP. As prominent figures were financially stable and their positions were established, they could risk being out of favour with the Party.

Government sanctions were often temporary, and the well-established writers were able to support themselves financially. A good example is that of Słonimski, who, after

1964, was banned from public writing in media outlets but continued to regularly publish his poetry. Moreover, persecuted writers were still able to do translations or even publish their own work under pseudonyms. Sometimes, friends would publish the work of censored writers under their own names and then pass the payment onto the real writers.423

Regional Branches of the Union had a different level of government control and their members were expected to show greater obedience. Most of them had far fewer than

100 members, in comparison with the Warsaw branch which had more than 600 and was also the most financially stable of the branches. In the regional organisations, both of the ZLP and the Party, power was in the hands of a small number of people. The presidents of Regional Branches of the Union also for the most part held posts within the regional Party structures. Hence the level of government control over the regional

Union bodies and their members was greater than in Warsaw. It was also harder for a

423 A conversation with Dr Konrad Rokicki from the Institute of National Remembrance (20/03/2017).

203 writer on ‘the index’ to find a job anywhere but Warsaw. Thus it is not surprising that some regional writers expressed a level of caution and conformism in relation to the protests of some ZLP members.424

Jan Stoberski, a member of the Translators Committee, stressed the importance of financial issues. Translators were in a difficult position compared to writers, as they were paid less for their work. He argued that ‘every time we had an appointment with the Central Committee to put forward several proposals, still hopeful (that they would be met), a collection of signatures would start; and then, later, all proposals would be refused’.425 Stoberski was not alone in this interpretation of events. It seems that the

Party intentionally and repeatedly postponed negotiations with the ZLP regarding censorship, financial affairs, the legal status of writers, cultural cooperation abroad, and travel. This could be seen as a reason for the protests by ZLP members.

The Special Meeting of the Warsaw Branch did result in some success for opposition writers. However, the long meeting ended abruptly when Żółkiewska asked everyone to leave as quickly as possible, explaining that ‘there are very serious reasons to finish this

424 Regional Branches, especially those with long literary traditions, often placed in large cities like Poznań, Szczecin or Kraków had a lot to offer in terms of support for the oppositional actions of the revisionist faction of the Union. Indeed, the smaller the Branch the greater state control over its members. Branches from big cities, however, had more members thus making members more anonymous and less susceptible to control and repression. Most importantly, Regional Branches in big cities included some very famous members who could count on more leniency from the Party-state than rank-and-file members thus allowing for more free expression of dissatisfaction with the regime (Please see the Kołakowski’s case and, for example, a famous poet Wisława Szymborska who resigned from the Party membership in a sign of solidarity with repressions against a professor and a writer Kołakowski. Szymborska was a member of the Kraków Branch. Kraków’s Branch was one of the oldest as it was established in 1920, the same year as the Union was created and, at one point, housed some of the most famous writers and some of the most vocal opponents of the regime. Kazimierz Brandys, Szymborska, Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński, Sławomir Mrożek, Jerzy Andrzejewski, Stefan Kisielewski, just to name a few. 425 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania OW 29/02/1968, pp: 88-89.

204 meeting immediately. Please trust me my friends. I adjourn this meeting’.426 The meeting finished in the middle of the night. A Czech journalist who was in Warsaw at the time reported that from 23:00 groups of people were being brought in by truck and there were rumours that ‘workers’ representatives’ were arriving to express ‘their indignation about the meeting’s proceedings’.427 He doubted they were really members of the working class. Whoever they were, Putrament persuaded them to leave the building, and this deescalated the situation.

This was just the beginning of events which silenced opposition writers for a few more years. Following the Special Warsaw Meeting, the government reacted violently against protesting students, increased the number of police across Warsaw and began a propaganda campaign against writers in the media.428 The Party named those it saw as oppositional Zionists, singled them out and ensured low mass support for their cause.

The students were quickly pacified. Anti-Semitism was at its height, and March 1968 was a dark time for the Polish intelligentsia. The Party also decided to discipline POP

426 Ibid, p: 164. 427 Rokicki (2011), p: 432. 428 It has to be noted that during 1968 Poland was not the only country of the Soviet block were protests were taking place. The neighbouring Czechoslovakia witnessed the events of Prague Spring where protests took place and attempts were made to democratise an existing political system and grant more right to the country’s citizens. The movement taking over Czechoslovakia influenced attitudes in Poland where ever stricter approach to freedom of speech was creating growing tension between the authorities and literary circles. Polish students supported by intelligentsia took to the streets in 1968 in an attempt to change the censorship system. However, the anti-Semitic campaign instigated by the Soviet Union in 1967 gave Polish authorities tools to supress the growing opposition of 1968. This anti- Jewish campaign was also a part of a power struggle within the Polish United Workers’ Party. General Mieczysław Moczar and his hard-line fraction led the offensive against the protesters, with Gomułka’s approval. The authorities had all the tools and all the resources on their side and used state media in a massive propaganda campaign against potesters. Moczar became powerful enough to threaten Gomułka’s position. He used the anti-Semitic campaign to remove thousands of Polish citizens with Jewish roots from many work places, including the Secret Services, police and Party structures. Despite Moczar’s attempts to consolidate power, Gomułka was re-elected to the Post of the First Secretary in 1968. It took two more years for Gomułka to lose his position, as protests of 1970 which were sparked by rising food prices resulted in several protesters being shot by the police. This is when Gomułka was replaced by Edward Gierek and Poland experienced another period of liberalisation of rules.

205 members who had stepped out of line during the Warsaw meeting, such as Tchórzewski, who had called the authorities ‘blind and stupid’.429 The Party-state increased its level of control over literary circles. However, the change in the First Secretary which took place in the 1970s, would result in new literary protests.

Conclusion

This chapter has analysed writers’ attitudes towards changing levels of censorship control under Gomułka, and challenges the myth that the Party enjoyed absolute control over every sphere of life in communist Poland, including cultural production. It holds that claims such as that made by historian Tadeusz Kisielewski, based on documents he compiled relating to the Politburo from 1959, that ‘the Communist Party’s rule was absolute and detailed’ and that ‘back then Poland was entirely its property’, are simplistic.430

The Party did have a monopoly over the publishing sector, and this was used as a system of rewards and punishments. The authorities used the complex system of censorship and repression to try to exercise hegemony and control over literary circles. Writers were dependant on the state for creative and financial matters. However, as this chapter has demonstrated, writers managed to publish and survive despite the sanctions placed on them because of their open protests against the Party-state’s cultural politics.

Writers found alternative means of supplementing their income. In addition, the oscillations in the imposition of sanctions against opposition writers worked against the

429 Ibid, p: 434. 430 Partia i literaci…(1996), p: 16.

206

Party, since the writers could count on the eventual stabilisation of the situation, and this encouraged them to continue with their actions.

This chapter has discussed the Party’s inability to exert total control over literary output, and even over its own members. Stenographic reports from plenary congresses of the

Writers Union show the constant struggle of the Union and its members against censorship. Despite the fact that the Union proved unable to change the legal frameworks of censorship politics during the period, it initiated a new kind of open and public protest which would become important during the 1970s. The development of a tradition of protest against censorship was complemented by the emergence of underground publishing projects which led to the creation of the 1981 Press Law.

The reports discussed in the chapter demonstrate that the Party struggled to control the

ZLP’s Primary Party Organisation, which was supposed to help implement top-down directives. The 1964 crisis, which divided the POP to the point that it could not operate to the state’s satisfaction, nearly caused its disbandment. The Special Meeting of the

Warsaw Branch, co-organised by POP members, demonstrated that the opposition was strong and was able to exercise its power. The Party’s directives aimed at regaining its control over literary circles suggest that the Union did enjoy some level of agency; or at the very least, that the Party perceived the opposition to have agency and to be a threat.

Most importantly, this chapter has demonstrated the extensive differences in the views of members of literary circles in Gomułka’s Poland. Reports from the congresses,

Executive Board meetings and, especially, the Special Warsaw meeting demonstrate

207 that freedom of expression was extensive. Despite the fact that many ZLP members spoke in praise of the Party and its achievements, the voice of opposition was heard.

The expression of views which were critical of the Party-state politics was surprisingly large, especially when one includes the critical speeches by POP members. The POP’s role will be investigated further in the next chapter.

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Chapter 5: Primary Party Organisation as a Mechanism of Control over the Polish

Writers’ Union

Introduction

This chapter will examine the Primary Party Organisation (Podstawowa Organizacja

Partyjna – POP) as one of the mechanisms of control over the Polish Writers’ Union

(Związek Literatów Polskich – ZLP). It will address two questions. Firstly, to what extent was the POP a useful tool of control over the Writers’ Union? Secondly, was the

Party-state able to fully rely on the POP in times of crisis? Answering these closely related questions will provide further insight into the levels and effectiveness of control exerted over the Writers’ Union between 1956 and 1970.

This chapter makes use of two types of primary sources. Firstly, I use collections of documents regarding literary circles which were produced for the Ministry of Internal

Affairs (Ministerstwo Spraw Wewnętrznych – MSW), the Security Services (Służba

Bezpieczeństwa – SB) and the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the Polish

United Workers’ Party (Politburo).431 In addition, I have used material from documents obtained from the Writers’ Union Archives relating to Plenary Congresses and special meetings which were called during the protests in 1964 and 1968.432 The second type of primary source consists of memoirs and diaries of writers and political figures,

431 (2008) Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I Niepokorni [March 1968 in Documents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Vol I The Unruly], Franciszek Dąbrowski, Piotr Gontarczyk and Paweł Tomasik (eds), Warszawa:Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2009) Tom II Część I Kronika wydarzeń [Vol II Part I Chronicle of Events], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2015)Tom III Część II Kronika wydarzeń [Vol III Part II Chronicle of Events], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia. 432 Stenogram Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 12/06/1964 [Minutes from a Plenary Meeting of the Warsaw Branch]; Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 29/02/1968 [Minutes from a Special Plenary Meeting of the Warsaw Branch].

209 including the diaries of POP members Jerzy Putrament and Alicja Lisiecka, and those of some Union members who were not members of the Party.433 I have also made use of the diaries of political figures such as Mieczysław Rakowski, who was the last Prime

Minister of the Polish People’s Republic.434

The secondary sources which this chapter draws on concern literary circles and the writing profession.435 The chapter builds on and takes further research by Konrad

Rokicki pertaining to the functioning of the ZLP. Rokicki examines the role of the POP within the Polish Writers’ Union and asserts that the POP, at times, expressed a lack of involvement in the political agenda of the Party, and even blunt disobedience towards its directives. All the same, Rokicki argues that the POP played an important role in

433 Putrament, Jerzy (1980) Pół wieku: Poślizg [Half a Century: A skid], Warszawa: Czytelnik; Lisiecka, Alicja (1973) Mandaryni i gryzipiórki [Mandarins and Pen-Pushers], London: Polonia Book Fund LTD. 434 Tejchma, Józef (1991) Kulisy dymisji: Z dzienników ministra kultury. [Behind the Scenes: From the diaries of the minister of culture.], Kraków: Oficyna Cracovia; Rakowski, Mieczysław (1999) Dzienniki polityczne 1963-1966 [Political Diaries 1963-1966], Warszawa: Iskry. 435 Woźniakowski, Krzysztof (1990) Między ubezwłasnowolnieniem a opozycją. ZLP w latach 1949–1959 [Between Incapacitation and Opposition. The Polish Writers’ Union 1949-1959], Kraków: Uniwersytet Jagielloński; Rokicki, Konrad (2011) Literaci. Relacje między literatami a władzami PRL w latach 1956- 1970 [Writers. Relations between the writers and the authorities of the People's Republic of Poland 1956-1970], Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2011) Władza w PRL: Ludzie i mechanizmy[Power in the People's Republic of Poland: People and mechanisms] Konrad Rokicki and Robert Spałka (eds), Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; (2009) Twórczość obca nam klasowo: Aparat represji wobec środowiska literackiego 1956-1970 [The Alien Class Works: The apparatus of repression and the literary circles 1956-1970], Andrzej Chojnowski and Sebastian Ligarski (eds), Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej; Rokicki, Konrad (2012) ‘„Język polski jest tak bogaty, giętka jest nasza mowa!” Podstawowa Organizacja Partyjna Oddziału Warszawskiego Związku Literatów Polskich i jej stosunek do polityki kierownictwa partyjnego w latach 1956–1970’ [„Polish is such a rich language, flexible is our talk!” Primary Party Organisation of the Polish Writers’ Union and its attitude towards the Party politics between 1956 and 1970], Pamięć i Sprawiedliwość [Remembrance and Justice] 11/1 (19): 135-181; Machcewicz, Paweł (1997) ‘Intellectuals and Mass Movements. The study of political dissent in Poland in 1956’, Contemporary European History 6(3): 361-382; Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN; Eisler, Jerzy (1991) Marzec 1968 [March 1968], Warszawa: Państwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe; Wojtczak, Mieczysław (2014) Wielką i mniejszą literą: Literatura i polityka w pierwszym ćwierćwieczu PRL [With Big and Smaller Letter: Literature and politics in the first 25 years of the Polish People's Republic], Warszawa: EMKA; Czarnik, Stanisław Oskar (1993) Między dwoma sierpniami. Polska kultura literacka w latach 1944-1980 [Between two Augusts. Polish literary culture 1944-1980], Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna; Bikont, Anna and Joanna Szczęsna (2006) Lawina i kamienie. Pisarze wobec komunizmu [Avalanche and Stones. Writers and communism], Warszawa: Prószyński i Spółka.

210 influencing the functioning of the Union through its input into election processes and its feeding of information to higher governing structures.436 The chapter’s original contribution lies in the fact that it examines the POP from a different angle than secondary sources relating to the POP and the Union’s functioning have done. My aim is to expand the existing research and draw additional conclusions about the extent of the POP’s usefulness to the Party-state, as well as introducing a new approach to analysing the role of the POP by drawing parallels between this entity and the Writers’

Union as a whole. The chapter’s main argument is that, in fact, the POP was involved in the same conflicts with the authorities as the Union. It would seem that instead of always being a useful tool of control which was to implement top-down directives and bring Union members back into line at times of protest, it sometimes followed the same patterns of disobedience along the same lines as the whole of the Union.

Accordingly, in contrast to Rokicki, who sees the examples of the POP's disobedience as uncharacteristic, I would suggest that they are an integral part of the POP's position, and argue that the POP behaved more like the creative union itself rather than an administrative organ of control on behalf of the Party. Furthermore, the POP’s actions, just like those of Union members, were inextricably linked to the changing political situation.

This chapter briefly demonstrates the administrative role and functioning of the POP within the Union. It goes on to analyse three major themes of the POP’s involvement in protests against the regime. Firstly, it analyses the closure of vital press outlets in the early 1960s, which was intended to limit writers’ involvement in public debate.

436 Rokicki (2011), p: 48.

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Secondly, it focuses on censorship issues at the time of the 1964 protest, and the subsequent limitations placed on writers’ expression of opinion. Lastly, it analyses the pivotal moment of protests against the ban on the nationally important play The

Forefathers, alongside a regime-instigated anti-Semitic campaign in the late 1960s, towards the end of the Gomułka era.

Janusz Wrona, a historian who examined the functioning of political organisations during the communist period, argues that broad decisions relating to all aspects of political, economic and cultural life took place in the Politburo and the Central

Committee (Komitet Centralny – KC) of the PZPR.437 With regards to cultural matters, similarly important were the organs which were subordinate to them – the Ministry of

Culture and Arts, the Ministry’s Department of Publishing, and the Main Office of the

Control of Press, Publications and Shows (Główny Urząd Kontroli Prasy, Publikacji i

Widowisk - GUKPPiW), the censorship organ which was particularly powerful in relation to decision-making processes. Notwithstanding the role of these high level

Party and state organisations, responsibility for the overall political direction was largely in the hands of the First Secretary of the Polish United Workers’ Party (Polska

Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza – PZPR). As some sources suggest, Gomułka was difficult to work with due to his temperament. It seems that his main focus was on economic issues, but due to his inability to delegate work to appropriate agencies and his refusal to accept the opinions of officials responsible for specific areas of government, his decisions tended to be reactions to particular situations (as during the

437 Wrona, p: 53.

212 protest of 1964), rushed, and unchallengeable.438 In the vertical structure of power, the POP was the lowest organ of control which was expected to implement top-down directives and influence the functioning of the ZLP.

The POP was expected to unanimously support directives, influence debates within the

Union and mobilise writers to vote for the regime’s plans by promoting the regime’s stance.439 Members of the POP had influence on various aspects of the ZLP’s work by holding positions in the Union’s departments and committees, such as the

International Committee responsible for literary contacts with the West. As the

Committee had to closely cooperate with the authorities and, ideally, follow their directives to the letter, POP members were placed in positions which would enable them to help with this task.440 In addition, as former Union President Jan Józef

Szczepański asserts in his book Kadencja [Term], ‘the specificity of the Union’s democracy’, which pertained to its role of choosing representatives to the Plenary

Congresses, worked in favour of the regime.441 Representatives were chosen in elections which took place in all regional branches. Hence each branch had a delegate who would have a representative vote at the congress where the elections to the

Executive Board of the Union were taking place. In such a situation, a delegate from a small branch with less than 20 members had the same vote as a representative of bigger branches such as Kraków, Gdańsk or Warsaw. In addition, the regime could

438 Rokicki, Konrad (2011) ‘Apodyktyczny szef. Władysław Gomułka i podwładni’ [Overbearing Boss. Władysław Gomułka and Subordinates], in Władza w PRL: Ludzie i mechanizmy[Power in the People's Republic of Poland: People and mechanisms] Konrad Rokicki and Robert Spałka (eds), Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej, pp: 235-247; Tejchma, p: 82 and 89. 439 Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia, p: 62. 440 Szczepański, Jan Józef (1989) Kadencja [Term], Kraków: ZNAK, p: 16. 441 Ibid.

213 benefit from the fact that members and leaders of small regional branches were far more dependent on the state than members, for example, of the Warsaw branch. In provincial areas, earning opportunities were limited and more closely connected to political structures in the region. The consequences of disobedience were far greater and hence the possibility of opposing top-down directives more limited.442 In reality, this system for the election of representatives within the Union ensured that people loyal to the Party-state participated in congresses and had a vote in the governing structures of the ZLP. Additionally, the POP had direct influence on the list of candidates for top posts within the Union, as the regime ensured that the Union’s governing structures consisted of a sufficient number of Party supporters who could be relied on.

These structured mechanisms of control, at least theoretically, provide the perfect means to implement directives. Indeed, during the Stalin era the POP was very successful in doing this. However, such a level of control and obedience could only be achieved with the help of a system of systematic repression and coercion. The hegemony of the POP over the decision-making process was undeniable and the POP was obedient to all top-down directives. All the same, the POP’s actions were inextricably connected to the political and cultural contexts of the times. Accordingly, the POP was not immune to the changing political situation in the country and in the

Writers’ Union.

442 For more details, please see chapter: Benefits and Privileges.

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Closure of journals – limiting public debate

The regime’s actions post-1956, aimed at limiting the extent of public debate, caused immediate reactions on the part of the Union and the POP. Particularly important is the fact that despite the authorities’ attempts to regain control over literary circles and

POP members, they seemed to be unwilling or unable to successfully fulfil this task in the post-Thaw political context. The Thaw brought about the loosening of restrictions across the entire Eastern bloc. In Poland, literary contacts with the West were expanded, some previously forbidden works were published, and to some extent a plurality of opinions became possible. However, the Thaw was short-lived as

Gomułka’s leadership retracted on its promises and started to tighten control over literary circles. Yet the Polish October had its repercussions, since the imposition of greater levels of control was met with dissatisfaction and opposition. Tensions started to grow, especially following the closure of two journals, Po Prostu [Simply] and Europa

[Europe] in 1957. Po Prostu was important to literary circles as after the Thaw it had become a ‘brave, opinion-making weekly journal’.443 Some researchers have described it as an ‘important social institution’.444 The closure of Po Prostu resulted in student protests, and the POP ZLP protested both against the closure and the ‘brutal repression of student protests’.445 The authorities withdrew their permission for the publication of a newly created journal Europa before its first issue had even

443 Rafalska, Dominika (2008) Między marzeniami a rzeczywistością. Tygodnik „Po Prostu” wobec głównych problemów społecznych i politycznych Polski w latach 1955–1957 [Between Dreams and Reality. Weekly "Simply" against major social and political problems in Poland in 1955-1957], Warszawa: Neriton, p: 11. 444 Rogaczewska, Marta (2016) ‘Nadzieje i rozczarowania w środowisku literackim po przełomie październikowym’ [Hopes and Disappointments in the Literary Milieu after the Polish October], Białostockie Teki Historyczne 14: 211. 445 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 301.

215 appeared.446 Going back on electoral promises, tightening control and closing down journals caused a strong reaction in literary circles. Given the importance of these two journals for the literary milieu, which expected them to provide a place for political, social and cultural debates, the closure of Europa was followed by several resignations from Party membership. Most importantly, members of the former editorial board of

Europa returned their membership cards. As a result, the Party lost 10 of some of its most prominent ZLP members. These included Mieczysław Jastrun, who was the first to resign; Paweł Hertz; Jerzy Andrzejewski; Adam Ważyk; and Jan Kott.447 With the growth of both the restrictions and the opposition to them, the authorities responded with an official approach which was to tighten censorship rules and curb expressions of opinion which disagreed with the Party line. On 2 April 1958, the Secretariat of the CC condemned the publication of works which had emerged during the Thaw and dealt with the Stalin period, and criticised the Publishing Committee of the CC PZPR for allowing the publication of works considered to be liberal or even ‘revisionist’.448 At around the same time the Minister of Culture and Arts, Karol Kuryluk, was dismissed from his post and the journal Nowa Kultura [New Culture] came under attack for inappropriate content and for not following the Party line. This resulted in the resignation of many members of the editorial team.449

446 For more details on Po Prostu and Europa, please the chapter: Censorship. Please also see: Mielczarek, Tomasz (2003) Od „Nowej Kultury” do „Polityki”. Tygodniki społeczno-kulturalne PRL [From „New Culture” to „Politics”. Socio-cultural weekly journals in People’s Republic of Poland], Kielce: Wydawnictwo Akademii Świętokrzyskiej. 447 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 301. 448 Rogaczewska, p: 213. 449 Mielczarek, pp: 130-132.

216

As the situation escalated and the authorities took an ever stricter approach to publishing, censorship and the press, the IX Plenary Writers’ Congress took place, and proved to be one of the most controversial.450 The newly elected Minister of Culture and Arts, Tadeusz Galiński, attempted to present the authorities as tolerant to all writers’ works, but at the same time took it on himself to define the role of a writer and his or her obligations.451 The debate which followed was focused on the writers’ expression of dissatisfaction with censorship and demands for free speech; the loudest oppositional voices belonged to Antoni Słonimski and Stefan Kisielewski.452

The congress debate clearly antagonised the authorities, and only a month after it, the regime set out a plan for taking control of the escalating situation. On 19 January 1959, a meeting of the Politburo of the CC PZPR took place, and one of the issues under discussion was the situation with regard to literary circles and the POP itself. The stenographic report of the meeting indicates that the situation within the POP was unacceptable to Party officials. The minutes clearly demonstrate the regime’s opinion on the POP: ‘the situation is bad (among Union members), revisionist views are dominant and a vast proportion of Party members is giving in to these trends’.453 The authorities were also displeased with the attitudes of Union members as a whole.

However, it seems that the main problem was that the POP was taking a similar stance and not fulfilling its obligations as an organisation which should be helping to exert control over the Union. The Politburo meeting’s minutes suggest that the authorities

450 For details please see chapter 4. 451 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], p: 12. 452 Stenogram Zjazdu Delegatów 1958 [Minutes from a Plenary Congress 1958], pp: 15-17, and 28-37. 453 Protocol no 217 from the Political Bureau meeting 19/01/1959 in Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959 [Party and Writers. Documents of the Political Office of the Central Committee of the Polish Workers’ Party 1959] Tadeusz Kisielewski (ed) (1996), Łowicz: Higher Education Centre of Masovia, p: 102.

217 were critical of the POP for not actively supporting the Party’s political line, and not following directives.454 Accordingly, the regime began to take steps to address the problem.

Firstly, all Warsaw-based Union members who belonged to the Party were to be moved to one POP by the ZLP.455 Before this directive, Union members could belong to various POPs, and they were often members of the POP at their place of work, such as a journal or a publishing house. Placing all writers who were Party members in a single POP allowed for the centralisation of control. At first glance easing the regime’s task; for example, passing information up governing structures was much easier now since informers had only one organisation to watch over. It was also easier to apply pressure on a single organisation than on individuals who were members of various

POPs. On the other hand, and probably contrary to the expectations of the Party-state, the new arrangement allowed for writers who were Party members to become a single group within the Union and increase their interaction with each other, and, paradoxically, this could be a partial reason for the later escalation of oppositional behaviour within the POP itself.

Secondly, the minutes stated that a group of active Party members had to be created in order to help the POP carry out its tasks. This group was to take part in POP meetings, give lectures, provide information and engage in debates with writers, both those who belonged to the Party, and those who did not.456 In practice, this directive

454 Partia i literaci..., p: 69. 455 Ibid, p: 103. 456 Ibid.

218 served to tighten control over the POP, as the group of active Party supporters seems to have been created t to oversee all aspects of POP’s work.

Lastly, the proceedings of the Politburo resulted in a directive concerning the continuation of the verification process to expel all members expressing ‘revisionist’ views, as well as members who were not helpful in fighting opposition within the

Union.457 The verification process started after the X Plenary Congress of the Central

Committee in October 1957. Gomułka described it thus: ‘We are removing corrupt and demoralised individuals from the Party’.458 The action was widespread and not limited to writers. It resulted in the expulsion of 200,000 Party members (16% of the entire membership) countrywide, during the course of six months.459 However, Gomułka’s aim to put an end to the plurality of opinions and to remove the oppositional faction among cultural figures that was labelled as ‘revisionists’ does not seem to have been completely successful, especially with regards to Union members. As demonstrated by the controversial Plenary Congress of the Writers Union in 1958, the opposition was vocal about their discontent and the POP was either inactive, i.e. it did not defend the regime’s position on censorship and publishing issues, or it was supportive of oppositional views.460

Taking into account the fact that some oppositional writers left the Party in protest after the closure of Europa, and that others were removed during the earlier stage of

457 Ibid. 458 Gomułka, Władysław (1957) Sytuacja w partii i w kraju: Referat wygłoszony na x plenum KC PZPR 24/10/1957. Uchwała X plenum KC PZPR o weryfikacji członków partii [The situation in the Party and in the Country: A paper presented at the plenum of the Central Committee of PZPR 24/10/1957. Resolution of the X plenary congress of the Central Committee of the PZPR on the verification of party members], Warszawa: Książka I Wiedza, p: 22. 459 Partia i literaci. Dokumenty Biura Politycznego KC PZPR 1959, p: 9. 460 Ibid, pp: 68-69.

219 the verification process, one wonders why the authorities still felt the need to continue verification within the POP. Did the authorities believe that the situation had not improved and 'revisionist' views continued to persist among POP members? Whatever the case, it appeared that this further verification did not produce significant results.

According to the POP leader, Jerzy Putrament’s diary, this additional stage of the verification process turned into a charade. The Verification Committee, he claimed, asked if anyone disagreed with the Party’s political line, and as no one answered, the action was finalised without any further expulsions.461 It is difficult to say why the action took such a turn. In her analysis of the verification process, Barbara Fijałkowska argued that, at some point, the Party leadership became concerned that expulsions might further alienate writers from the regime and its ideology.462 Also, as the 1957

‘exodus’ of writers demonstrated, the POP lost some of its most talented writers, who had been raising the POP’s status and helping to legitimise the regime. So one might suggest that the authorities eventually came to conclusion that it would be more advantageous to keep the writers in the POP, even if they did not actively support the regime’s politics. Otherwise, there was a real possibly that they would strengthen the opposition. Accordingly, the regime did not want to lose any more famous or even rank-and-file writers as they were useful for Party-state purposes. Hence the POP did not lose any more members, but this did not solve the problem of the various oppositional views within the organisation.463

461 Putrament, 169-170. 462 Fijałkowska, Barbara (1985) Sumienie narodu? Sprawy i ludzie kultury w Polsce Ludowej, Wrocław: Krajowa Agencja Wydawnicza, pp: 96-97. 463 Machcewicz, p: 361.

220

It can be argued that steps taken by the Party-state to bring writers back in line resulted in open conflict between the authorities and writers coming to an end. It did not, however, mean that the Party-state regained full control over the POP, or the

Union as a whole. An anonymous memorandum prepared for the Security Services evaluated the mood in the Union before and after the 1959 Congress, and asserted that ‘the atmosphere of the Warsaw Congress (1959), as compared to Poznań (1957) and Wrocław (1958), demonstrated care, especially on the part of writers who are

Party members, about ensuring the further development of literature, while at the same time understanding the writers’ obligations towards the nation”.464

Indeed, the POP as well as the Union became less vocal in expressing discontent with

Party-line politics. However, this does not mean that the opposition was silenced altogether or for long; and in any case, the memorandum’s conclusions regarding the atmosphere within literary circles could have been twisted in order to satisfy the authorities’ expectations about the level of progress. Accordingly, it is impossible to state with certainty that the expressions of 'care and concern' were in any way genuine. During the early 1960s, the period of what is sometimes called a ‘small stabilisation’ took place. Tightening control seems, on the surface, to have brought the expected results. In order to retain and expand the level of control, there was intensified surveillance of literary circles by the Security Services, the Ministry of

464 ‘1959 grudzień 28, Warszawa –Notatka służbowa dotycząca przygotowań do Walnego Zjazdu ZLP w Warszawie, jego przebiegu I komentarzy w środowisku literackim po wyborze nowego Zarządu Głównego, ściśle tajne’ [1959/12/28 - Memo regarding the organisation of the Plenary Congress in Warsaw, its proceedings and writers’ comments about the newly elected Executive Board, top secret], in (2009) Twórczość obca nam klasowo: Aparat represji wobec środowiska literackiego 1956-1970 [The Alien Class Works: The apparatus of repression and the literary circles 1956-1970], Andrzej Chojnowski and Sebastian Ligarski (eds), Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci Narodowej, p: 119.

221

Internal Affairs, and some of the writers’ own colleagues, who worked as informers for these institutions. In 1958, Putrament, a leading Party loyalist, was put back in charge.

It is impossible to disagree with Rokicki, who argues that this move was clearly aimed at regaining control over the revisionist views of the POP.465 Yet, there is evidence to conclude that the authorities’ aim was not fully achieved. As suggested by the directives from the Politburo meeting in 1959, the Party-state aimed to revive the POP and get its members involved in debates and active support of the Party line. Yet the result of the regime’s interference did not recreate the politically engaged, obedient organisation which the POP had been during the Stalin era. One member of the POP,

Alicja Lisiecka, who was considered an unofficial leader of the oppositional faction within the organisation, described Putrament’s leadership post-1958 as ‘treatment by sleep’ [leczenie snem].466 She suggested that his tactic was to refrain from engaging in the antagonistic situation between the POP and Party officials by simply avoiding political debates; he considered apathy on the part of POP members to be better than disobedience, which could further antagonise the authorities. Yet the Ministry of

Internal Affairs saw this as a problem, actually using the expression ‘treatment by sleep’ too. It summarised Putrament’s efforts:

The Party (Primary) Organisation for a long time has not been a place which

forged opinions. (…) after the exodus of the 10 (in 1957), Putrament

propagated ‘treatment by sleep’. He consciously avoided any topics which

could further divide the (POP literary) circles, due to his fear that it could lead

465 Rokicki (2012), p: 143. 466 Lisiecka, p: 119.

222

to more chaos in the POP, removal of its members or voluntary

resignations.467

The document acknowledged that Putrament’s tactic saved the organisation by retaining its members and admitted that serious debates could ‘shake this organisation to the point that more writers could return their membership cards’ as a result.468

Despite this possibility, the authorities seemed unable to accept further ‘stagnation’ in the functioning of the POP and the document argued that attempts should be made to revive it, to unify it as an active tool of the regime and to rid it of pluralistic opinions.469

The authorities were clearly concerned about the possibility of losing more prominent and even rank-and-file members. However, the POP, which was now seen as apathetic, silent and uninvolved, was no longer able to help the regime to control the Union, and so now created the same problems for them as the Union itself.

It was not only the Party-state which was dissatisfied with the situation within the POP.

According to Lisiecka’s diaries, its members were also fed up with its continuing stagnation.470 This was especially the case given the continued tightening of control and surveillance of literary circles, and the closing down of journals, discussion groups and literary clubs. The Wonky Wheel Club [Klub Krzywego Koła], for example, which had been created on the wave of the Thaw, was closed down in 1962. The club was

467 ‘1962 październik 2, Warszawa – Notatka służbowa wicedyrektora Departamentu III MSW płk. Stanisława Filipiaka z załączonym opracowaniem sporządzonym przez kontakt operacyjny ‘O’ na temat sytuacji w Związku Literatów Polskich i Podstawowej Organizacji Partyjnej Oddziału Warszawskiego ZLP’ [1962/10/2 Warsaw - A memo of the Deputy Director of III Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs Col. Stanisław Filipiak with the attached note from the informer ‘O’ about the situation in the Polish Writers’ Union and the Primary Party Organisation of the Warsaw Branch of the Union], in (2009) Twórczość obca nam klasowo...p: 139. 468 Ibid, p: 142. 469 Ibid, pp: 141-143. 470 Lisiecka, p: 119.

223 considered to be last bastion of plurality of opinions and one of the few remaining forums in which members of the intelligentsia could exchange different views. The shortage of paper and fewer press outlets had also resulted in diminished earnings for

Union members. Due to these and other factors, the tension between writers and the authorities continued to grow. Despite the seemingly stable situation, some changes brought about by the Thaw seemed to be irreversible and a return to the status quo which existed before the Polish October was impossible. The peaceful coexistence between the authorities and writers was only temporary and was challenged when the regime decided to merge two journals which it considered damaging to the Party line.

In 1963, Nowa Kultura [New Culture] and Przegląd Kulturalny [Culture Review] were replaced by a new Party-controlled journal, Kultura [Culture].

The authorities’ move was criticised by writers representing a range of different views within the Union. The new journal was boycotted before its first issue had even appeared, by oppositional writers within the ZLP as well as members of the POP.471

The authorities were clearly dissatisfied with the Union’s action, which was carried out by prominent members. However, the refusal of members of the POP to work with the new editorial team was a bigger problem. Considering that Kultura was intended to propagate the Party-line and the editorial team consisted of people supposedly loyal to the Party-structures, the fact that writers who were also Party members were boycotting the journal was highly problematic. The authorities were also concerned with the reception of the new journal and the possibility that it would struggle to find readers. A document produced by a member of the Voivodship Headquarters of the

471 Wojtczak, p: 652.

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Citizens’ Militia, which was part of the Security Services, makes it clear that the POP’s participation in the boycott did not go unnoticed. Lisiecka was named as the leader of a group within the POP which consisted mainly of former employees of Nowa Kultura.

She was described as ‘an advocate for artistic freedom’, and was accused of using ‘her group’ of supporters to sabotage the POP while still being a member.472 The former editorial team of the magazine Europa also boycotted Kultura.

A different document, from August 1963, prepared by an anonymous member of the

IV Division of the Ministry of Internal Affairs which was responsible for overseeing literary circles, stated that Kultura ‘was very badly received’.473 Writers did not want to work with the new editor-in-chief, Janusz Wilhelmi, who ‘arouses great negative passions’; there was, the document continued, ‘hardly anyone in the literary circles who is disliked so much’.474 The authorities were clearly aware of the negative attitudes toward their newly created journal. While they saw it as a publication which was supposed to support the regime and its aims, writers treated it as another way of limiting their forms and means of expression. Their reaction to Kultura was so negative that the authorities struggled to find writers, especially talented and prominent ones,

472 ‘1963 marzec, Warszawa – Informacja na temat sytuacji w tygodniku Nowa Kultura, opracowana przez starszego oficera operacyjnego Wydziału III KW MO w Warszawie kpt. Edwarda Gurtata, confidential’ [1963 March, Warsaw - Information regarding the situation in the weekly Nowa Kultura, created by a senior operational officer of the III Department of the Warsaw Voivodship of Citizen’s Militia, Capt. Edward Gurtat, confidential], in Twórczość obca nam klasowo…p: 150. 473 ‘1963 sierpień 16, Warszawa – Analiza sytuacji w środowisku literackim po powstaniu warszawskiej Kultury oraz nastrojów po XIII Plenum KC PZPR, sporządzona przez konsultanta „33”, przyjęta przez kpt. Stanisława Borowczaka z Wydziału IV Departamentu III MSW’ [1963/08/16, Warsaw – An analysis of the situation in literary circles after creating of the Warsaw Culture and atmosphere after the XIII Plenum of KC PZPR, created by consultant “33”, received by Capt. Stanisłąw Borowczak from IV Division of the III Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs], in Twórczość obca nam klasowo…p: 154. 474 Ibid, p: 155.

225 who would cooperate with the journal. Indeed, according to Lisiecka’s diary, there were attempts to blackmail some writers into cooperation.475

The period of the so-called ‘small stabilisation’ was far from uneventful, then; control was stricter, forums for debate and exchange of opinions were increasingly limited, surveillance of the literary milieu was intensified, the shortage of paper and closures of press outlets meant fewer earning opportunities, and the Party-state took a stricter course of action in relation to the cultural sphere. At the same time, the dissatisfaction with the existing situation on the part of both writers and the authorities was apparently growing at a similar rate. Towards the end of 1962, a report by another anonymous informer was produced for the III Department of the Ministry of Internal

Affairs which was responsible for counteracting anti-state activities; one of its main points was the situation among POP members. The document provided a categorisation of attitudes among writers who were Party-members, suggesting that the POP was divided into three ‘factions’: 25% could be considered oppositional, around 50% indifferent, though they would support the opposition if the situation changed, and 25% slightly disappointed but still loyal to the Party.476 The informer summarised the situation: ‘The Party organisation (POP) still has not put an end to

‘revisionism’ (…). Writers who are firmly supporting the Party are a minority.’477

The report could have exaggerated the growing tensions between the Party-state and the writers, but all the same, the anonymous informer’s assessment of the situation is

475 Lisiecka, pp: 113-114. 476 5/12/1962 - Analiza postaw politycznych pisarzy sporządzona przez kontakt obywatelski „O”, przyjęta przez wicedyrektora Departamentu III MSW płk. Stanisława Filipiaka [5/12/1962 – An analysis of writers’ attitudes created by a civilian informer, received by a Deputy Director of the III Department of the MSW Col. Stanisław Filipiak], in Twórczość obca nam klasowo…p: 148. 477 Ibid.

226 suggestive. It is, then, not surprising that the regime, which had already lost a level of control over the rest of the Union compared to the pre-1956 period, attempted to regain it at least over its Primary Party Organisation. The authorities were dissatisfied with the apathy of the POP, from whom they expected an active engagement in advancing the Party-state's cultural policies. It seems that membership of the POP was just a formality for some of its members, and the regime was aware of this. It attempted to change the situation by putting pressure and demands on the POP.

However, these attempts did not bring the expected results. The regime did not use all available measures to put pressure on the POP, or to repress members for their disobedience. The verification process was conducted by the POP itself, and despite the authorities’ dissatisfaction with the way it was concluded, no additional steps were taken at the time. Was the risk of aggravating the situation and losing already diminished control over a disobedient organisation too great for it to use harsher measures towards remaining POP members? Might more severe actions have resulted in a ‘rebellion’ on the part of the POP, which would have placed at risk the Party’s ability to exert control over other organisations? The expression of so-called

‘revisionist’ opinions among POP members indicates that the split among writers into

Party and non-Party members had become blurred and less relevant to the functioning of the Union. This became even clearer during an escalation of the protest against censorship in 1964 and the POP’s protest in 1966, which showed particularly clearly the limitations of the authorities’ ability to exert control over the POP.

227

Limiting freedom of speech-defiant POP

The diminished level of the regime’s control over its Party Organisation became particularly visible during one of the most famous protests of the 1960s. In March

1964, a group of famous writers wrote an open letter to the Prime Minister, Józef

Cyrankiewicz, which protested against ever stricter censorship and the paper shortage.

What is commonly known as the ‘Letter of the 34’ caused an immediate reaction on the part of the Party-state, which was especially concerned that information about the letter had reached Western countries. This protest has been well researched by scholars, and previously discussed in this work.478 This chapter focuses on the authorities’ reaction to the letter, which, apart from repressions directed at the signatories, resulted in a ‘kontrlist’ [counter-letter] which was supposedly the work of the Union as a whole. This letter was a declaration condemning the 34 signatories and was supposed to demonstrate unilateral support for the Party-state position. It was not known who initiated the action of the ‘kontrlist’ but ‘it is confirmed that details were established in the CC PZPR’.479 The authorities instigated a mass collection of signatures, from all Union members, condemning the protest and stating that its direct aim was to harm the regime. In theory, all Union members were expected to sign the declaration. The POP was instructed to collect signatures and this action was presented to the Union as the POP’s initiative. However, a note by Józef Kępa, who at the time was the Secretary of the Warsaw Committee of the PZPR, which was

478 Please see: Eisler, Jerzy (1993) List 34 [Letter of 34], Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN; Rokicki, Konrad (2006) ‘Sprawa „Listu 34” w materiałach MSW’ [The case of the „Letter of 34” in the materials of the Ministry of Internal Affairs], Polska 1944-1989: Materiały i studia 7: 197-223. Also see chapter: Censorship… 479 Rokicki (2011), p: 280.

228 published by Marta Fik, strongly suggests that some members of the POP’s Executive

Board, including its leader, Putrament, were opposed to the counter-letter.480

It seems that the Board and the whole of the POP had little choice but to help with the collection of signatures; documents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs confirm that on

9 May 1964, ‘express letters were sent out’ to all Union members from all regional branches ‘with the request to sign the public protest of Polish writers’.481 Within two days, a staggering 157 signatures were published in the press.482 However, the fact that it was made public that around 150 signatures were collected in such a short time should be regarded as an attempt to influence other Union members to sign, by publicly putting pressure on those who had not yet done so.483 In a few weeks, around

600 signatures were secured. 484 The general public, which was not given details about the original protest and the counter-protest, could interpret it as confirmation of sweeping support for the ZLP and the Party-state agenda.

However, the situation appears to be far more complicated. Some writers subsequently complained that the declaration which was later presented in the press was not the one they actually signed.485 Furthermore, literary circles soon realised that the number of signatures was questionable. As Tomasz Jastrun recalls, some writers claimed that their signatures were placed on the list without their knowledge; this was

480 Fik, Marta (1994) ‘My, niżej podpisani’ [We, undersigned], Res Publica Nowa (5): 21-25. 481 1964, wrzesień 29, Warszawa – Kronika sprawy ‘Listu 34’ [29/09/1964, Warsaw – Chronicle of the issue of the ‘Letter of 34’], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW Tom I (2008) [March 1968 in Documents for the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Vol I (2008)], p: 186. 482 Rokicki (2011), p: 287. 483 Eisler (1993), pp: 86-87. 484 Rokicki (2011), p: 287. 485 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 332.

229 particularly the case with writers belonging to small regional branches.486 Some signatures of deceased writers were also found on the list.487 In addition, as Fik rightly argues, the fact of signing the declaration did not, in reality, mean that the signatory was supporting the Party line, or condemning the protesters.488 Writers, especially in regional branches and the lower echelons of the Union hierarchy, often considered it safer to sign a declaration than to risk the consequences of antagonising the authorities. Letters sent to the Executive Board of the POP confirm a general feeling that the action was ‘forced’, and that it only seemed to represent vast support for the regime among Union members.489 In any case, even if over 600 signatures were collected from members of the ZLP, this added up to just over 60% of Union membership since the Union had 949 members at the end of 1964.490

Since the number of signatures is questionable and not all signatures indicate actual support for the Party-state, it seems that the regime failed to demonstrate unilateral support for its agenda. Furthermore, none of the 34 original protesters signed this

‘Letter of the 600’.491 More importantly, 57 Party members refused to sign the counter-letter. 30 of them were members of the Warsaw Branch of the Union.492

Considering that there were around 120 Party members in the Union at the time, this means that almost half of the POP refused to obey the top-down directive. What is

486 Jastrun, Tomasz (1994) ‘Mysz, która ryknęła’ [The mouse that roared], Res Publica Nowa (4): 18. 487 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 327. 488 Fik, Marta (1995) Kultura marcowa: wokół ‘Dziadów’, literaci i władza, kampania marcowa [March Culture: around the ‘Forefathers’, writers and authorities, March campaign], Warszawa: Wodnik, p: 110. 489 Rakowski, p: 161. 490 Siciński, Andrzej (1971) Literaci polscy. Przemiany zawodu na tle przemian kultury współczesnej [Polish Writers. Changes of the profession in the context of changes in the contemporary culture], Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy Imienia Ossolińskich, p: 155 (table no 1). 491 1964, czerwiec 25, Warszawa – Projekt notatki dotyczącej sprawy ‘listu 34’ [25/06/1964, Warsaw – Project of a memo regarding the issue of the ‘Letter of 34’], March 1968 in Documents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs Vol I (2008), p: 157. 492 Wojtczak, p: 715.

230 even more interesting is that although the majority of Union members signed the declaration, the Party Organisation showed what could be considered a complete disregard for top-down directives. What was supposed to be a sweeping declaration of support and loyalty toward the Party-state politics actually demonstrated what a limited control the authorities had even over their own tool for controlling the Union.

Most of the POP members who refused to sign the counter-letter were called for talks to the Warsaw Provincial Committee of the Polish United Workers’ Party (PZPR), despite providing written explanations for their decisions.493

These explanations varied from the long and cautious to the short and brave. Some of the better-known POP members provided particularly interesting explanations for their refusal to join the regime-instigated action. Kazimierz Brandys explained that he

‘personally knows most of the writers who signed under the letter to the Prime

Minister (‘Letter of the 34’) and (…) I could not cause a situation resulting in their isolation among literary circles as co-operators of the Radio Free Europe’.494 Wiktor

Woroszylski wrote that he ‘considers it impossible to join the wide action of the

‘protest of the 600’ (…) because it did not have the character of a real manifestation of convictions and (signing it) could be construed either as a fear of consequences or an attempt to gain some personal benefits’.495 What emerges from such explanations is that POP members were more concerned about their position within the Union than they were about the possibility of repression. Even top members of the POP, especially after the 1957 ‘exodus’ of renowned writers, were not the most prominent writers.

493 Ibid, p: 717. 494 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 333. 495 Wojtczak, p: 716.

231

After the ‘Letter of the 34’, the contradictions in the functioning of the regime became more evident. Members of the highest echelons of the Union, despite their open protest, gained further respect among Union members, repressions were temporary, and surprisingly, even the most oppositional renowned writers could count on wider access to benefits than any POP members. The latter were part of the literary circles and the hierarchy among Union members was well known to everyone. It is possible that some POP members aspired to move up this hierarchy and gain the respect of fellow writers. Hence siding with the most renowned figures could possibly bring more benefits than siding with the Party-state. This argument seems to be supported by

Woroszylski’s comment, that ‘our unruly absence among the ones who let themselves be pressured, more than ever meant that we were present somewhere else. It was probably the moment when seniors (the most renowned ZLP members) finally accepted our maturity.’496

It would seem, then, that the POP, just like the Union, was in need of being controlled itself, rather than providing a useful mechanism for bringing writers back into line. The counter-letter demonstrates that the level of control exerted over the POP in times of crisis was limited. The organisation responsible for implementing official directives not only expressed ‘liberal’ views unacceptable to the Party-state, but also demonstrated a high level of defiance towards explicit top-down directives. Almost half of POP members refused to follow orders regarding the counter-letter which were clear and repeated continuously by Party officials at special POP meetings. The authorities were dealing with a rebellious Writers Union and, in a way, an even more defiant POP.

496 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 332. Woroszylski belonged to the younger generation who looked up to older writers like Dąbrowska, Słonimski or Kisielewski.

232

Understandably, protests on the part of oppositional writers within the Union caused dissatisfaction on the part of the regime, but they were part of the political game and were not unexpected. However, the POP was supposed to support the authorities in fighting such protests, challenging the opposition and demonstrating active support for the regime’s policies.

The POP followed the same patterns of behaviour as the Union. The divisions within the organisation were similar to those among writers as a whole. An oppositional group appeared within the POP and grew larger even as the regime was attempting to reduce its influence. It seems that once the terror of the Stalin era was removed from the vertical structure of power, it was more difficult to exert control over the POP.

Furthermore, some POP members were unhappy both with the regime’s actions towards the original 34 protesters, and its response of the counter-letter, which gave the impression of a ‘loyalty contest’.497 Some of the writers who had signed the counter-letter later sent additional letters to the Executive Board of the POP voicing their concerns about the state of literature, censorship, publishing policies, and the regime’s response to the protest of the 34.498 This discontent, along with the need for

Party-member writers to be acknowledged by their most highly regarded peers, could be the reason for the next stage of the conflict between the authorities and the POP.

This time the Party Organisation started its own protest in defence of one of its own, a prominent writer-philosopher, historian and professor called, Leszek Kołakowski.

497 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 332. 498 Rakowski, p: 159-161.

233

POP fights for freedom of speech-Kołakowski’s case

The case of Kołakowski is closely related to the regime’s continual placing of further limits on forms of expression which began soon after the Thaw. On 21 October 1966, the 10th anniversary of the Polish October, Kołakowski gave a lecture at the History

Department of Warsaw University entitled ‘The Development of Polish Culture in the

Last Decade’, which discussed Polish culture since the Thaw. The regime was very displeased with the ‘anti-socialist’ content of the lecture. In a transcript of

Kołakowski’s speech, which was created for the use of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and based on a recording which was made without the professor’s knowledge,

Kołakowski was quoted to be critical of the ‘absurdities of the existing economy’,

‘disregard for the law’ and manipulation of the political system by the authorities.499

He was also propagating the right to ‘express criticism, freedom of association and creative freedom’.500 The Central Committee of Party Control [Centralna Komisja

Kontroli Partyjnej-CKKP] made a quick decision and expelled Kołakowski from the Party on 27 October 1966.501 The authorities made this executive decision without involving the POP or the Union. According to the MSW documents, POP members were dissatisfied with the fact that a special POP meeting to discuss Kołakowski’s expulsion was cancelled and the content of his speech was not made available to the POP and

Union members.502 The debate around the ‘Letter of the 34’ also took place without a

499 1966 październik 21, Warszawa - Stenogram z nagrania dźwiekowego wytąpienia prof. Leszka Kołakowskiego na otwartym zebraniu ZMS na Wydziale Historycznym Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego [21/10/1966, Warsaw - Transcript from the recording of the prof. Leszek Kołakowski’s speech at the plenary meeting of the Union of Socialist Youth at the History Department of the Warsaw University], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW Tom I, p: 688-690. 500 Ibid, p: 688. 501 Rokicki (2011), p: 360. 502 1966 grudzień 2, Warszawa - Informacja źródła ‘K’ dotycząca sytuacji w środowisku literatów po ogłoszeniu listu w obronie Leszka Kołakowskiego [02/12/1966 Warsaw-Information from the informer

234 full text being made available for public information. In addition, the POP’s leader,

Putrament, left for India in the midst of the escalating situation, most likely to avoid participating in the debate.503 Such behaviour was symptomatic of his tactical

‘treatment by sleep’. It seems, however, that POP members became ever more dissatisfied with the avoidance of any potentially controversial debates at POP meetings.

Kołakowski wrote a letter asking for his reinstatement, which was followed by another letter, signed by 15 members of the POP on 19 November 1966, supporting him. This became known as the ‘Letter of the 15’. On the surface it focused on the professor’s reinstatement. However, it also clearly defended his right to freely express his opinions and argued that his expulsion, due to criticism on the part of the Party-state, was ‘a serious and alarming public matter’.504 The letter asserted that Kołakowski was, ‘in

Poland and abroad, one of the most talented thinkers’, who ‘identify socialism with full creative freedom’; it also insisted that even the sharpest ‘public criticism of existing reality should be part of daily life, not just an extraordinary event causing the critic to suffer repressions either of a Party or administrative nature’. 505 This was followed by the assertion that his ‘vision of socialism is shared by communist intellectuals in Poland and other socialist and capitalist countries’.506 Almost immediately, another five

‘K’ regarding situation among literary circles after the letter in defence of Leszek Kołakowski], Marzec w dokumentach MSW Tom I, p: 394. W 503 Ibid. 504 1966 listopad 19, Warszawa-List protestacyjny literatów, członków POP PZPR ZLP, do Biura Politycznego KC PZPR w sprawie usunięcia z partii Leszka Kołakowskiego [19/11/1966, Warsaw-Protest letter of writers, members of the POP PZPR ZLP, to Politburo of the CC PZPR regarding Leszek Kołakowski’s expulsion], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, p: 286. 505 Ibid. 506 Ibid.

235 members of the POP, including some members of the Executive Board, joined the protest.

The protest letter makes it clear that some POP members shared Kołakowski’s opinions and believed in the right to express opinions freely. Since the POP was an administrative organ of the PZPR, whose role was to assist the authorities, the regime’s reaction was swift. 10 out of the 20 signatories to the protest had their Party membership suspended, and all of them were called for interview by a specially created committee to deal with Kołakowski’s case. The fact that not all protesters were treated the same was a repetition of the different levels of repression carried out against protesters from 1964 onwards. It seems that the regime was attempting to use the tactic ‘divide and conquer’ in order to bring the POP back into line. Members of the special committee were selected from among the highest Party officials, which indicates the importance of this issue to the Party-state. 507 Despite the talks which were conducted in the CC PZPR with individual writers, none of them withdrew their signatures. These interviews were stretched out in time possibly so the signatories would not be able to create a ‘unified front’ and would feel more intimidated. MSW documents suggest that the regime was very concerned about the repercussions of this protest. A document from 1 December states that ‘if this case becomes known to the masses, it might engage them and lead to serious consequences, to calls for the

‘“democratisation of the country”’, which could become ‘a second phase of

October’.508 This was indeed a possibility, especially since the protest became a point

507 Rokicki (2011), p:361. 508 1966 grudzień 1, Warszawa-Notatka dotycząca protest literatów po usunięciu z PZPR Leszka Kołakowskiego oraz reakcji na to wydarzenie w środowisku literackim [01/12/1966, Warsaw-Memo

236 of debate among students, academics and literary circles alike, and ‘currently in the

ZLP café the issue of the Party writers’ protest is discussed at almost every table’.509

These extracts from the memo provided for the MSW are a further indication that the protest had become a serious issue for the Party-state. If the regime’s own organisation was carrying out a protest against the Party-state, what would stop people further removed from the Party structures from following suit?

Another serious concern for the regime was POP membership, and in particular the possibility of losing the most prominent members as a result of Kołakowski’s expulsion.

Literary circles were themselves divided in their opinion about the possible consequences. A note regarding the atmosphere among literary circles suggests two possible scenarios: the first would be a mass return of Party membership cards ‘as a gesture of solidarity’ if the authorities expelled some of the protesters.510 The second was that ‘the authorities will finally fulfil their threat and dissolve the POP’.511 Indeed, both options were a possibility. Even before a special closed POP meeting was called on 9 December 1966, one of the most famous POP writers, Igor Newerly, had already returned his PZPR membership card on 3 December. This triggered further concerns, and the special meeting now had to focus not only on Kołakowski’s case and on the call

regarding a writers’ protest after expulsion of Leszek Kołakowski from PZPR and reaction to this event among literary circles], Marzec 1968 w Dokumentach MSW Tom I, p: 290. 509 Ibid. 510 1966 grudzień 2, Warszawa...[02/12/1966, Warsaw...], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, p: 293. 511 Ibid.

237

‘for freedom of expression of opinions’, but also on the case of Newerly, ‘whose authority is great and he is very well liked’.512

As predicted by MSW informers, the debate which took place at the closed POP meeting of the Warsaw Branch of the ZLP was heated. Among Party representatives present at the meeting were Artur Starewicz (member of the CC PZPR), Wincenty

Kraśko (Director of the CC’s Department of Culture), and Aleksander Syczewski (Deputy

Director of the CC’s Department of Culture).513 The participation of the highest Party officials speaks to the fact that the regime was attempting to exert control over the course of the meeting. The debate focused on the unequal treatment of protesters, as only some of them were suspended, although all of them had signed the protest letter.

The fact that the suspended members were not allowed to participate in the meeting was also criticised. Criticism was expressed about ‘the flawed politics of culture’, which had led to the ‘closure of journals and the creation of (the journal) Kultura’ against the will of literary circles in the early 1960s.514 Most importantly, the ‘Party’s infallibility’ was challenged by members of its own organisation, and it was not only the signatories of the protest who were critical of the regime’ politics. When a Party representative, Starewicz, gave a speech accusing the POP of being an oppositional organisation since 1956, and threatening to dissolve it,515 Jadwiga Siekierska, a POP member who had not signed the protest, responded by ‘shouting that Party leadership

512 1966 grudzień 5, Warszawa- Doniesienie źródła ‘K’ dotyczące nastrojów w środowisku literackim [05/12/1966, Warsaw-Report by informer ‘K’ regarding atmosphere among literary circles], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, pp: 296-297. 513 1966, bm-Informacja na temat zebrania POP PZPR przy OW ZLP [1966 current month (Dec)- Information regarding a meeting of POP PZPR by the Warsaw Branch of ZLP], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, p: 301. 514 Ibid, pp: 302-303. 515 Ibid.

238 is not infallible and that we are all the Party - its members, not only its leaders’.516

Only three people attempted to defend the Party-state agenda. Accordingly, it would seem that the authorities’ level of control over the Primary Party Organisation was very limited at this time. Starewicz’s threat to dissolve the POP was not implemented, possibly due to concerns about the consequences. How would the rest of the Union have reacted? Could this have led to more protests and reinforced the already strong oppositional faction? Could an escalation of the situation have led to members of society at large supporting the writers, and led to mass protests on the 10th anniversary of the Thaw? Having to resort to dissolving the POP could also indicate that the Party-state had completely lost the ability to control this organisation, which would send out a signal that the Party was weak.

It is also possible that the authorities’ tactic of ‘expelling everyone who creates resistance’ was considered an easier and more manageable option.517 Yet this option was also not implemented, since the protesters began returning their membership cards themselves, one by one. Within three months of the protest, 16 of the most prominent POP members had left the PZPR. Four of them had been expelled, but the other 12 returned their membership cards as an act of solidarity.518 The action did not become more widespread since the smaller branches of the Union and their POPs were far easier to control. All the same, the importance of this protest cannot be

516 Ibid, p: 303. 517 Rakowski, p: 454. 518 Rokicki (2011), p: 386. Rokicki asserts that four expelled writers were: Paweł Beylin, Jacek Bocheński, Tadeusz Konwicki and Wacław Zawadzki. Out of 12 „who resigned-nine were signees of the protest in defence of Kołakowski: Igor Newerly, Roman Karst, Marian Brandys, Julian Stryjkowski, Andrzej Piwowarczyk, Seweryn Pollak, Wiktor Woroszylski, Arnold Słucki, Flora Bieńkowska and individually resigned: Kazimierz Brandys, Marcelina Grabowska and Wisława Szymborska” (from the Kraków Branch- I.S.).

239 underestimated, since the Warsaw Branch was by far the largest in terms of membership. In addition, the Executive Board of the POP was in Warsaw, which made the POP in the Warsaw Branch the most influential and vital for the regime’s agenda.

Surprisingly, however, the POP did not help to advance it. In reality, Kołakowski’s case was not even an example of the POP’s disobedience during a period of crisis during which it should have been helping to bring writers back into line. This protest was a crisis instigated by the Party Organisation, and was a protest against its politics and for freedom of speech. It resulted in several prominent writers leaving the Party structures, and at the same time strengthened the opposition.

Regarding Kołakowski’s case, the regime was displeased about the mythology which was emerging around him, and what was called the ‘false greatness’ attributed to him.

As Fik explains, ‘false greatness’, in the regime’s understanding, ‘is usually assigned to a “revisionist” with a surname famous enough that repressions towards him gains publicity among literary circles and beyond’.519 Through its actions, during the 1964 protest and during Kołakowski’s case, the regime inadvertently helped to create a mythology around the protesters. The repressions during the 1964 protest gained respect for the protesters, even if some writers disagreed with their actions.

Furthermore, leaving the Party was not an easy decision in the reality of a one-Party political state. So resigning from PZPR membership in 1966 added to the moral status of the former POP members and brought them more respect from renowned oppositional Union members. The fact that POP members had personal and

519 Fik, Marta (1997) Autorytecie wróć? Szkice o postawach polskich intelektualistów po październiku 1956 [Authority Return? Sketches about the attitudes of Polish intellectuals after the October 1956], Warszawa: Oficyna Wydawnicza Errata, p: 57.

240 professional ambitions and wanted to be part of the higher echelons of the Union hierarchy has significance. Even the title of their protest letter, sent to the Politburo in defence of Kołakowski, described them first and foremost as writers and only then as

POP members. It could be that writers who belonged to the POP considered their relationship to the literary circles and the creative union to be more important than their membership of Party structures.

Taking into account the ‘exodus’ from the POP, firstly in the late 1950s and then in

1966, it can be assumed that the POP was left with a majority of either loyal Party supporters or writers who owed their careers purely to their Party membership. This, in turn, had a negative impact on the POP’s status, as well as the morale among remaining members. However, the fact that it had lost its most prominent oppositional members meant that the POP should now be easier to control. Indeed, a period of stabilisation of relations between the authorities, the Union and its POP did ensue.

However, this was not the same as the regime regaining the level of control which had been reduced by the two major protests of the 1960s. During the process of choosing delegates for the next plenary congress, both old and new oppositionists refused to attend, which resulted in a congress which could not engage in controversial debates.

Furthermore, the authorities were disappointed with the results of elections to the

Executive Board of the Union, since the remaining POP members did not all vote according to the regime’s expectations.520 It is clear, then, that the authorities’ ability to exert control over their own organisation, which, having lost many ‘revisionist’

520 1967, Warszawa - Analiza sytuacji ideowo-politycznej w OW ZLP dokonana przez źródło ps. ‘KK’ [1967, Warsaw - An analysis of the ideological and political situation in Warsaw Branch of the ZLP created by the informer pseudonym ‘KK’], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, pp: 336-337.

241 writers, should have been easier to control, was put into question. Nonetheless, a relative balance did prevail once more. After the 1964 conflict, this balance had lasted just over a year. This time, however, it lasted only for a few months, due to international and domestic events.

The Forefathers and the 1968 protest

Tensions between the authorities and literary circles started to grow quickly after the

1966/1967 events. Despite many oppositional writers leaving the Party, the POP still had a ‘revisionist’ faction, and so its usefulness to the regime remains questionable.

According to an undated anonymous note analysing the situation in the Union following the Kołakowski case, ‘the departure of a considerable, respected group of

Party writers did not change anything in the POP (…), apart from the fact that now the dominant group is the middle one which is striving for peaceful, stable cooperation with the Party. Generally, the situation is identical in the whole of the Union’.521 There is a possibility that the writer of this note was attempting to demonstrate that Party- state efforts had brought the situation under control. As this chapter has demonstrated, every protest caused a reaction of the part of the regime, which created a temporary situation of relatively stable coexistence between the regime and the Union. What is most telling is the comparison between the POP and the Union. The

POP was going through the same motions as the Union and, in a way, the two were behaving like a single entity. As previous protests and their consequences

521 1967, Warszawa - Analiza sytuacji ideowo-politycznej w OW ZLP dokonana przez źródło ps. ‘KK’ [1967, Warsaw - An analysis of the ideological and political situation in Warsaw Branch of the ZLP created by the informer pseudonym ‘KK’], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom I, p: 337.

242 demonstrated, the period of stabilisation was in reality a period of growing tensions, which would inevitably escalate. The intensified surveillance of literary circles, the lack of progress on financial matters and the lack of political debate were domestic issues bubbling under the surface. In addition, there was growing tension in the Middle East between Israel and Egypt which resulted in the Six-day War in June 1968. In the context of the unfolding Middle Eastern crisis, an anti-Semitic campaign was instigated in Poland, whose beginning was signalled in Gomułka in a speech delivered in 1967.522

It was in the midst of this campaign that another protest against censorship took place, and, this time, anti-Semitic propaganda was used to discredit protesters.

In January 1968, the staging of a play called The Forefathers by Poland’s foremost national poet and writer Adam Mickiewicz was suddenly banned. The ban sparked student protests, which were violently broken up by the regime; this caused representatives of the intelligentsia to join the protesting students. The regime’s violent reaction to the student protests, the continued surveillance of student and literary circles, personal searches of students, the confiscation of lists of signatures on letters protesting against the ban, as well as arrests of students organising and taking part in demonstrations, could be explained by the fact that the regime was worried about the possible consequences of prolonged unrest. Documents created for the

MSW during February 1968 suggest that the protest was no longer concerned solely with the ban on The Forefathers and was increasingly ‘about limiting democratic freedoms’.523 Furthermore, ‘according to public opinion, Gomułka had lost the ability

522 Stola, Dariusz (2000) Kampania antysyjonistyczna w Polsce 1967-1968 [Anti-Zionist Campaign in Poland between 1967-1968], Warszawa: Instytut Studiów Politycznych PAN, p: 274. 523 1968 luty 9, Warszawa - Notatka naczelnika Wydziału IV Departamentu III MSW mjr. Henryka Walczyńskiego z doniesienia TW ps ‘Wacław’ dotycząca rozmów na temat sytuacji politycznej z Antonim

243 to retain an optimal modus vivendi with the USSR’ and in such a situation ‘the protest can spread to other social groups’.524 A report by the Director of the III Department of the MSW dealing with anti-state activities suggests that the student action of collecting signatures under a protest letter was taking place not only in Warsaw but also in other major cities such as Wrocław and Łódź.525 This demonstrated the students’ ability to mobilise large numbers of supporters, which could possibly result in mass demonstrations against the regime. In addition, the MSW reported that students made attempts to mobilise workers’ support. This meant there was a real threat that the regime would lose control over the situation, and explains its violent reaction to the protest of 1968 in comparison with the milder reactions to previous protests against censorship.526 Literary circles were also cooperating with students in an attempt to synchronise street demonstrations with an upcoming Special Meeting of the Warsaw

Branch regarding the ban on the play.527 In an attempt to avert widespread protest actions, the authorities tried to discredit student, literary and academic protesters by

Zambrowskim oraz Joanną i Stanisławem Gomułkami [09/02/1968, Warsaw - Note by the Director of IV Division of the III Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs Major Henryk Walczyński based on a report from a secret informer pseudonym ‘Wacław’ regarding talk about politcal situation with Antoni Zambrowski and Joanna and Stanisław Gomułka], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom 2, Część I, p: 59. 524 Ibid. 525 1968 luty 17, Warszawa - Kronika wydarzeń opracowana w Departamencie III MSW [17/02/1968, Warsaw - Chronicle of events compiled in the III Department of MSW], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 71. 526 1968 luty 6, Warszawa - Doniesienie TW ps. ‘X’ dotyczące opinii na temat demonstracji pod Teatrem Narodowym, opinii Waldemara Kuczyńskiego przygotowywanej petycji do władz PRL przeciwko działalności aparatu bezpieczeństwa [06/02/1968, Warsaw - Secret informer’s report, pseudonym ‘X’, regarding opinions about demonstration at the National Theatre, opinion of Waldemar Kuczyński and continued action of petition to the authorities against the activities of security services], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 42. 527 1968 luty 6, Warszawa - Doniesienie TW ps. ‘X’ dotyczące opinii na temat demonstracji pod Teatrem Narodowym, opinii Waldemara Kuczyńskiego przygotowywanej petycji do władz PRL przeciwko działalności aparatu bezpieczeństwa [06/02/1968, Warsaw - Secret informer’s report, pseudonym ‘X’, regarding opinions about demonstration at the National Theatre, opinion of Waldemar Kuczyński and continued action of petition to the authorities against the activities of security services], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 40.

244 portraying them as ‘Zionist conspirators’.528 The authorities also tried to prevent the special meeting from taking place, and took a strict course of action when faced with the fact that they had failed to do this.

While the students began their demonstration immediately after the last performance of the play, the Union and POP members started a collection of signatures calling for a special plenary meeting about the censors’ decision to ban The Forefathers. There were actually two different collections of signatures among Union members. The first was instigated and conducted by well-known oppositional writers such as Zygmunt

Mycielski, Paweł Jasienica, Jerzy Andrzejewski and Paweł Hertz.529 These signatories were primarily representatives of cultural and academic circles; the letter was seen as a protest against the ban on The Forefathers, and was addressed to the Polish Council of State [Rada Państwa]. However, this action was suspended after a conversation between Mycielski and the ZLP leader, Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz, who was waiting for a meeting with the Council of Culture [Rada Kultury].530 The second collection of signatures, and the most controversial from the regime’s perspective, called for a special plenary meeting of the Warsaw Branch of the Union to discuss censorship and the events following the ban of The Forefathers. This collection was supported by prominent oppositional Union members.531 As the MSW reports suggest, this second collection was of most concern to the authorities. The group behind the collection, and the instigators of the call for a special meeting, included Alicja Lisiecka, Krzysztof

528 Ibid, p: 39. 529 1968 luty 6, Warszawa - Kronika wydarzeń opracowana w Departamencie III MSW [06/02/1968, Warsaw - Chronicle of events compiled in the III Department of MSW], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 32. 530 Ibid. Please also see: Rokicki (2011), pp: 403-404. 531 Rokicki (2011), pp: 404-406.

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Mętrak, Arnold Słucki and Seweryn Pollak.532 Słucki and Pollak were former Party members who resigned their membership during the 1966 protest in defence of

Kołakowski, while Lisiecka and Mętrak were still members. Hence the signature collection involved old and new opposition as well as POP members. As Rokicki argued, the active involvement of Lisiecka and Mętrak helped to secure signatures from other writers who were Party members.533 The signature collection brought very quick results, with writers of various convictions and opinions agreeing on the need to oppose the suspension of Mickiewicz’s play, and to organise a special meeting. Within a few days more than 220 signatures were collected.534 The Warsaw Branch consisted of 626 writers, and not all of them could be reached in such a short period of time.

However, even if they had been contacted, it cannot be assumed that all Warsaw

Branch members would have agreed to sign. Yet such mobilisation and cooperation within the ZLP of members holding such different opinions was unprecedented.

According to the Union Statute, the Executive Board of the Regional Branch was obliged ‘to call a Special/Emergency Plenary Meeting of the Branch if a third of its members demand it in writing’.535 This was achieved within a few days.

532 1968 luty 7, Warszawa - Notatka inspectora Wydziału VII Departamentu II MSW por. Ireneusza Sikory dotycząca sytuacji w środowiskach literackich w związku z zawieszeniem spektaklu ‘Dziady’ [07/02/1968, Warsaw - Note of the inspector of the VII Division of II Department, Lt Ireneusz Sikora regarding the situation among literary circles with regards to the ban of the ‘Forefathers’, Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 47. 533 Rokicki (2011), p: 406. 534 1968 luty 7, Warszawa - Notatka inspectora Wydziału VII Departamentu II MSW por. Ireneusza Sikory dotycząca sytuacji w środowiskach literackich w związku z zawieszeniem spektaklu ‘Dziady’ [07/02/1968, Warsaw - Note of the inspector of the VII Division of II Department, Lt Ireneusz Sikora regarding the situation among literary circles with regards to the ban of the ‘Forefathers’, Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 46. 535 Statut Związku Literatów Polskich (1966) [The Statute of the Union of Polish Writers], section IX, article 39.

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The authorities attempted to rectify the situation by trying to either postpone or prevent this meeting, which was scheduled to take place on 29 February. Still more alarming to them was the fact that due to the volume of signatures, Iwaszkiewicz began to consider signing the petition himself.536 Immediately, a meeting with the POP leader was called by the CC PZPR.537 In turn, Putrament called a meeting of the POP’s

Executive Board for the next day, most likely in accordance with the CC’s directive.538 It was one of several meetings regarding the course of action and what directives to pass to POP members.539 The authorities’ swift reaction put pressure on the POP and the whole of the Warsaw Branch by means of POP Board meetings aimed at setting the direction of action and demanding obedience from members, as the ‘Regional

Committee of the Party takes a firm stance demanding that Party members who signed the petition in favour of the special meeting withdraw their signatures. It (the Regional

Committee) intends to be severe in this matter, even if they (the signatories) returned their Party membership cards’.540 Furthermore, talks took place between Putrament and the most active signature collectors from the POP in order to bring them back into

536 Iwaszkiewicz signed the petition on 06/02/1968, a week since the last performance of The Forefathers. 537 1968 luty 7, Warszawa - Notatka inspectora Wydziału VII Departamentu II MSW por. Ireneusza Sikory dotycząca sytuacji w środowiskach literackich w związku z zawieszeniem spektaklu ‘Dziady’ [07/02/1968, Warsaw - Note of the inspector of the VII Division of II Department, Lt Ireneusz Sikora regarding the situation among literary circles with regards to the ban of the ‘Forefathers’, Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 46. 538 Ibid. 539 1968 luty 15, Warszawa - Notatka służbowa dotycząca sytuacji w Oddziale Warszawskim ZLP, sporządzona prze Ireneusza Sikorę, tajne [15/02/1968, Warsaw-Memo regarding situation in the Warsaw Branch of the ZLP, created by Ireneusz Sikora, confidential], in Twórczość obca nam klasowo, p: 270. 540 1968 luty 16, Warszawa - Notatka inspektora Wydziału III Komendy MO m.st. Warszawy plut. Jana Pawłowskiego z rozmowy z KP ps. ‘Grześ’ w dniu 15 lutego 1968 r. dotyczącą przebiegu zebrania Zarządu Oddziału Warszawskiego ZLP [16/02/1969, Warsaw - Note by the inpector of the III Division of the Citizen Militia Headquaters city of Warsaw Sgt Jan Pawłowski from the conversation with a confidential informer pseudonym ‘Grześ’ on 15/02/1968 regarding the Executive Board meeting of the Warsaw Branch], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 67.

247 line.541 In addition, the leadership of the Ministry of Culture and Arts attempted to influence the agenda of the special meeting by insisting that it become a ‘report’ meeting.542 Report meetings usually focused on financial and organisational issues, which would make it possible to divert the discussion away from censorship and onto less controversial topics.

None of the regime’s efforts brought satisfactory results. The Special Meeting took place as scheduled on 29 February, Party-members did not withdraw their signatures and the meeting focused on the issues of censorship and the ban on the play. The biggest issue was the number of POP members who signed the petition in favour of the meeting. A memo created by the inspector working for the II Department of the

MSW, responsible for counterespionage, stated that the tactical approach ‘is mostly hindered by the signatures of 42 members of the PZPR. The whole of the POP consists of 114 members and many of them are old and weak’.543 The number of 42 is quite surprising as it makes up over a third of the POP. Some POP members who were described as ‘old and weak’ indicated that they could not be relied on to attend the meeting and/or support the Party agenda through active participation. The 42 signatories comprised the majority of POP members who actually attended meetings and had some involvement with the functioning of the Union, which was a striking blow to the Party-state.

541 1968 luty 15, Warszawa - Notatka służbowa dotycząca sytuacji w Oddziale Warszawskim ZLP, sporządzona prze Ireneusza Sikorę, tajne [15/02/1968, Warsaw - Memo regarding situation in the Warsaw Branch of the ZLP, created by Ireneusz Sikora, confidential], in Twórczość obca nam klasowo, p: 270. 542 1968 luty 17, Warszawa - Kronika wydarzeń opracowana w Departamencie III MSW [17/02/1968, Warsaw - Chronicle of events compiled in the III Department of MSW], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, p: 70. 543 1968 luty 15, Warszawa..., in Twórczość obca nam klasowo, p: 270.

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The regime’s limited ability to exert control over the POP and Union members resulted in the Special Meeting taking place. Its last action was the preparation of an operational security plan for the upcoming meeting of the Warsaw Branch. As students and writers were in contact during the ongoing protest, there was a possibility of student unrest during the Warsaw Branch meeting which could result in them taking to the streets again. Accordingly, the authorities developed a plan which included close observation of writers and students, with informers placed at the meeting and amongst students who had already gathered outside the building where it was due to take place.544 This would make it possible to control the course of the meeting and access to information, as well as helping to identify and ‘flush out’ known student protesters and ‘neutralise their participation’ before more students gathered in support of the protest.545 In Addition, the Citizens’ Militia was to create observation points around the building and have a militia car with a radio stationed outside in order to provide information about unfolding events to the Headquarters.546

These measures proved to be useful. During the meeting concerned with the ban on

The Forefathers, ever stricter censorship, limits on freedom, intensified surveillance of literary circles and what was seen as the flawed politics of culture, the Chairwoman of the meeting, a POP member called Wanda Żółkiewska, interrupted the meeting to make an announcement: ‘there are very serious reasons for immediately closing this

544 1968 luty 26, Warszawa - Plan działań Komendy MO m.st. Warszawy w związku z nadwyczajnym zebraniem Oddziału Warszawskiego ZLP w dniu 29 lutego 1968 r. [26/02/1968, Warsaw - Action plan for the Citizens’ Militia Headquaters in Warsaw regarding a special meeting of Warsaw Branch of the ZLP on 29 February 1968], Marzec 1968 w dokumentach MSW, Tom II, Część I, pp: 88-89. 545 Ibid, p: 90. 546 Ibid, p: 91.

249 meeting. Please trust me, my friends’.547 There was a very real threat of violent dispersal, she explained since ‘workers’ representatives’ were gathering outside the building and were threatening to enter the building. In fact the worker credentials of these activists are questionable; in reality they were ‘party activist militias’, and they might well have resorted to violence.548 The meeting was called to a close and everyone was asked to leave to avoid confrontation with these ‘worker activists’. The events which unfolded in the following months were aimed at the regime regaining control. Increased surveillance, further arrests, a physical assault on the renowned author Stefan Kisielewski, the anti-Semitic smear campaign in the media against protesters, seemed to be effective. The anti-Semitic campaign resulted in the intelligentsia losing many valuable and prominent figures who were forced to leave the country. The strong response to the protests seemed to bring writers back into line.

The opposition within the POP and the whole Union became inactive, and the level of control over the Union was tightened. It would seem as though the regime achieved victory over the opposition in literary and academic circles.

Yet the 1968 protest demonstrates that despite the ‘exodus’ of writers from the POP, the oppositional faction within the POP remained strong. Almost half of POP members disregarded the top-down directives. POP members and the Union’s oppositional writers worked together in their protest action, and they managed to pose, at least a perceived, threat to the regime. It became apparent that the authorities could exert very limited control over the Union and the POP in times of crisis. In fact, the

547 Stenogram Nadzwyczajnego Walnego Zebrania Oddziału Warszawskiego 29/02/1968 [Minutes from a Plenary Meeting of the Warsaw Branch], p: 164. 548 Rokicki (2011), p: 440.

250 administrative organ of the regime’s control was, at times, the instigator of crisis situations and behaved exactly the same way as the rest of the ZLP.

The consequences of the 1960s protests had long-term repercussions. Woroszylski had a point when he stated in the 1990s that ‘without March 1968 the opposition of the

1970s would look different and without this opposition there would be no August of

1980’.549 In 1970, Gomułka was replaced by Edward Gierek and the level of control exerted over the Union and its POP started to fluctuate again. The financial situation and security of the writing profession improved, and there were increased contacts with the West and foreign literature. The emergence of underground publishing opportunities diminished writers’ dependence on Party-state support, and the growth in worker organisations, which gave rise to the Solidarność movement, allowed for political opposition to exist on different platforms. This, in turn, changed the situation within the Union, which gradually started to lose relevance as the main centre of political opposition.

Conclusion

The POP as part of the structure of administrative control, at least in theory, was a very useful organ. The vertical organisation of Party organs, which implemented top-down directives from the leader of the PZPR, through the highest Party organs, and down to the lowest organisations such as the POPs, was a well-constructed mechanism.

Theoretically, it should have functioned perfectly due to the pressure applied on members of the POP from the higher-ranking organisations and political figures. As

549 Bikont and Szczęsna, p: 358.

251 demonstrated by the situation in the Stalin era, the POP was most successful in fulfilling the regime’s aims when additional repressive mechanisms were in play. At that time, until there was a threat of physical harm to oneself or one’s loved ones, the vertical system of administrative pressure functioned as the authorities expected it to.

However, the POP, like the Writers’ Union, was inextricably connected to the surrounding social atmosphere and, especially, the changing political context. Thus post-1956, changes in the political atmosphere, the loosening of restrictions and, most importantly, the removal of the threat to members’ lives, had a vital influence on both the Union and the POP. Divisions amongst members became visible as ‘liberal’ opposition became vocal and started to express discontent with the Party line of politics. The POP turned from being an obedient organisation set up to implement directives, into an organisation with political factions and a strong opposition which took part in protests. Accordingly, the regime lost confidence in its usefulness for political purposes. It seems that once the threats of the Stalin era were removed, the

POP practically became a union within the Writers’ Union.

The pressure put on the POP was stronger than that put on the Union, because the

POP was more closely connected to the governing structures. Thus it could be expected that the POP would demonstrate a greater level of obedience than the rest of the ZLP. However, most of the time and, especially, in times of crisis, the POP behaved more like a creative union itself than an organ subordinate to the Party leadership. Notwithstanding the fact that some POP members owed their livelihoods less to their own talents than to their involvement in the Party structures, they were part of a particular environment, and of literary circles. It can be argued that writers

252 who were POP members wanted to feel part of the literary milieu and be respected by the higher echelons of the Union. It seems that over time, most POP members started to feel that they were writers first and Party members second. The POP did not exist in a vacuum and, like the Union, was influenced by political events. To some,

(increasingly fewer), membership in the POP was a means to an end, a formality which would advance their individual ambitions and/or their financial needs rather than expressing real conviction about the regime’s superiority and infallibility. Therefore, the POP during the Gomułka period was not an efficient tool in the hands of the regime. It seems that the POP had more in common with the Writers’ Union than the governing structures of the PZPR. This, however, could result from the fact that the

POP was the lowest administrative tool of control, and so the directives it received in this top-down manner were ‘diluted’ by the time they reached its members. At the same time, since it was so close to the Writers’ Union - indeed, it was a part of it, rather than an organ placed above the ZLP in a vertical structure of power - there was a sense of belonging, and divisions between its members and the rest of the Union were blurred.

This sense of belonging to the writers’ community, combined with dissatisfaction at certain aspects of the regime’s politics, resulted in the POP joining in the protests.

Some POP members did follow directives and passed information to the higher organs.

This, however, could be said about the ZLP as a whole, as after each protest both the

Union and the POP were brought back into line. However, as I have argued in this chapter, the times of coexistence with the authorities were also times of growing tension, which was bound to escalate. Thus post-1956, the level of control exerted

253 over the POP by the regime diminished. This was especially clear in times of crisis when the regime’s ability to exert control over its own administrative tool of control was very limited. During the times of protest, the POP was meant to aid the authorities in advancing the Party-state agenda and bringing writers back into line. Instead, the

Primary Party Organisation defied directives, joined oppositional Union members in protest and, in 1966, instigated a protest against the regime by itself. Thus it seems that the POP was not a very useful tool of control over the ZLP and could not be relied on in times of crisis.

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Conclusions

The main aim of this thesis was to discuss the nature of the relationship between culture and power under the communist regime in Poland, using the example of the

Polish Writers’ Union. The research focused on the Gomułka period since this is the least researched period regarding the politics of culture. Most existing research has investigated the Stalin era, since the archival resources pertaining to this period became available first. The 1980s and the rise of the Solidarność movement was also a focus of research, since it was the most recent period in the history of communist rule, and one which many scholars had witnessed personally. This thesis aimed to enhance knowledge of a period in between these two eras, in order to improve our understanding of the specificities of post-Thaw Poland. The Gomułka period is also distinct in that he came to power on the wave of the Thaw in 1956 and was the longest serving First Secretary of the Polish United Workers’ Party.

The 14 years of Gomułka‘s leadership were marked by fluctuating tensions and the regime’s attempts to regain pre-Thaw levels of control over the Writers’ Union. The period began with a liberalisation of rules and the promise of a ‘Polish road to

Socialism’. It ended with the violent dispersal of protests in an attempt to exert further control over cultural circles. Gomułka’s successor, Edward Gierek, became the face of another period of political change and greater freedoms, the events of which were, in some respects, similar to those which brought Gomułka to power. It is important, then, to analyse the relationship between the Union and the authorities over the course of a decade, and demonstrate the complexity of the Gomułka period. It is also important because the Writers’ Union was a vital forum for expressing different opinions.

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Continued protests, demands for freedom of speech and the existence of an oppositional faction had serious repercussions in the changing political context of the

1970s and 1980s. Gomułka’s rule gave rise to open protest against the regime’s politics, thus challenging the view that the regime enjoyed unlimited power.

Through its analysis of the relationship between power and culture, this thesis enhances our overall understanding of the functioning of the communist regime. It brings to the English-language reader research which has been almost entirely absent in scholarly literature, and points to other aspects of the complex issues of communist rule which would be appropriate for further analysis. English sources concerning the

Writers’ Union, especially between 1956 and 1970, are scarce and usually focus on the stories of individual writers and their personal lives under communist rule. In Poland, sources about the Writers’ Union are also limited, and often provide a simplistic analysis based on a dichotomy of passive intelligentsia and repressive regime. This thesis has challenged that dichotomy, as well as the dominant view that the communist regime exerted absolute control over all spheres of life. The research has confirmed that there was a complex relationship between culture and power, filled with interdependencies, and that it allowed for some level of agency on the part of the

Union and its individual members.

The thesis is based on research conducted in the Archives of the Polish Writers’ Union as well as archival documents produced by the Ministry of Internal Affairs. It also makes use of stenographic reports from the Writers’ Union, writers’ personal correspondence, and several writers’ memoirs, and juxtaposes these with the documents produced by the Ministry. It provides a nuanced approach to the

256 relationship between the literary circles and the regime, and offers alternative views of events to those outlined in the reports of the Party-state, which are likely to have been manipulated. The thesis demonstrates various aspects of the nature of the relationship between power and culture, including the legal aspects of the Union’s activity, the influence of the individual personalities of Union leaders on the Union’s relationship with the regime, and the agency of individual figures who, in formal or informal ways, were able to influence the existing situation. The analysis provided here indicates areas which would benefit from further research in this, the least analysed period of communist rule in Poland. For example, it would be extremely interesting to consider the expressions of dissatisfaction with the regime by rank-and-file Union members. As this research has demonstrated, even within the restrictive political system there was some scope for action which would influence the regime, obtain greater agency for the

Union, secure benefits for its members, and directly or indirectly bring about political change. As I was not able to conduct archival research in the Party Archives due to time constraints, this could be carried out in a postdoctoral setting. The study of personal letters to Party officials and unpublished notes by the highest ranking political figures who attempted to influence the Union’s activities through covert channels would also prove interesting.

The Party-state aimed to exert control over the Union’s functioning by various means: these include influencing the legal framework, exercising hegemony over the publishing sector, and controlling the funds on which the Union depended. The regime’s attempts to influence the legal framework of the Union were discussed in

Chapter One, which provided a comprehensive comparative analysis of Union statutes.

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This chapter analysed the Party-state’s interference in the contents of statutes, and its repercussions for Union activity. As comparative analysis of the statutes demonstrated, from 1949 the regime aimed to tighten control over the Union and its members. The vertical structure of power, combined with the repressions and coercion of the Stalin era, allowed for a great level of control over the Union, publishing policies and literary output in Poland. This was exemplified by the 1949 change in the statute content and most importantly by the change in the Union’s legal status. The new statute underlined the special role assigned to writers and literature by the Party-state. Henceforth, the Union, at least in theory, was part of the vertical structure of power, and the regime aimed to make it a channel for transmitting top- down directives and advancing the regime’s agenda. As the only permitted style of arts was Socialist Realism, Union members were required to assist in the building of a socialist society and praise the achievements of the Party-state. Most importantly, the

Union’s legal professional status was amended and the ZLP became a ‘creative union’ rather than a ‘trade union’. On the surface, this change was beneficial to writers, as trade unions were under stricter Party-state control. Thus the change to creative status aimed at making an impression of allowing greater freedoms usually associated with creative activities.

This particular tactic on the part of the regime was used from the beginning to the end of communist rule in Poland. The Party-state used the approach in two ways. The supposed autonomy of the creative unions was used to encourage cooperation with the authorities, especially from the most renowned writers. At the same time, the regime strove to exert ever greater control over the literary milieu and cultural

258 production. This was aimed at legitimising the regime, elevating the Union’s status, and using it for the purposes of propaganda.

The ‘autonomy’ enshrined in the Union’s statute was largely tokenistic, as the Union was strictly dependent on funding by the regime. Indeed, since the Union’s funds could be withdrawn at any moment, the Union’s agency with regard to policy making was minimal. This, however, did not entirely preclude the agency of the Union and its individual members in other areas. As is clear in the Gomułka period, the political changes in the Soviet bloc and the removal of the repression and coercion of the Stalin era resulted in greater agency on the part of the Union and its members. The Union’s agency in influencing its financial situation, despite the regime’s control over its funds, was analysed in Chapter Two, which discussed the ways in which the regime used the system of dispensing benefits and privileges to exert control over the Union.

In an attempt to advance levels of control over literary circles, the system of benefits and privileges was used by the Party-state in two ways. Firstly, it was used to encourage cooperation from the most talented and well known writers in order to help legitimise the communist system; the status of the Union was also raised for the purpose of using it to advance the state agenda. Secondly, the threat of removing access to material goods, writers’ retreats, additional earning opportunities and housing was used in an attempt to ensure that writers stayed in line. Yet this tactic, however promising in theory, proved in practice not to be completely successful.

Chapter Two demonstrates how writers, both renowned and rank-and-file, learned to work within the system and even manipulate it for their own benefit. Attempts by the regime to use benefits to advance the state agenda provided a certain level of

259 immunity for the more renowned writers, even when they showed clear disobedience towards the rules of conduct prescribed by communist rule. Furthermore, members of the higher echelons of the Union could use their positions, influence and connections to help rank-and-file members to obtain more benefits, as well as additional earning and publishing opportunities. This chapter also demonstrated that the most renowned writers, as well as, to some extent, rank-and-file members, were able to obtain certain material goods through informal requests directed at high-up Party officials or local authorities. Thus the system aimed at exerting greater control over writers resulted in

Union members finding alternative means of securing access to benefits.

The regime used Union demands about the financial needs of its members to put pressure on literary circles, and this also yielded questionable results. Some of the best examples of the level of the Union’s agency in this respect can be found in

Chapter Three, which compares the two different presidencies of the Gomułka period.

The analysis provided in this chapter focuses on the influence of renowned writers on the relationship between the authorities and the Union, as well as on the advancement of the Union’s demands concerning its members’ livelihoods. Chapter

Three also demonstrates that successful negotiation of financial demands largely depended on the approach of the Union President and his relationship with the authorities. The progressive, liberal presidency of Słonimski was short-lived and failed to secure greater financial security for Union members. Iwaszkiewicz’s approach, to exert influence on the Party-state with regards to securing the advancement of the financial needs of the Union members, proved to be more successful. Iwaszkiewicz’s

260 position as a renowned writer with pre-war fame and many connections to the governing structures was vital to his ability to negotiate with the authorities.

Due to his capability of striking a compromise, Iwaszkiewicz was an acceptable presidential candidate from the regime’s perspective. For the same reason, he was continuously elected by Union members for whom access to financial support and benefits were vital professional goals. This was particularly the case with regards to rank-and file members who had a less privileged status and narrower access to earning opportunities. Securing pay rises, pensions and social insurance in case of illness were the main goals of Iwaszkiewicz’s two-decade leadership. The regime attempted to use financial issues as a bargaining chip in a power game, which meant that the negotiations were stretched over several years. However, persistence and patience resulted in Iwaszkiewicz securing greater financial stability for the Union and its individual members. As the most vocal members of the opposition were usually renowned writers who were financially secure and could count on a certain level of leniency from the authorities, financial stability was also important in a non-material sense. The improvement of living and working conditions created a sense of security, especially for rank-and-file members. Yet this stability indirectly led to more vocal criticism of the Party-state agenda. As the threat to people’s lives was removed during the Thaw, financial security created a growth in confidence, and this led to the mobilisation of previously inactive writers in protests against the Party-state and its politics.

It was not only financial stability which led to growing opposition on the part of writers. Union members also engaged in protests against the Party-state politics of

261 culture. Słonimski’s role as Union President and, later, as informal leader of the opposition was vital to the creation of an oppositional atmosphere within literary circles, and served to influence the relationship between the Union and the authorities. Słonimski was elected to the Union presidency in the more liberal political context introduced by the USSR during the Thaw, and at a time of diminished control on the part of the authorities due to social unrest. This enabled his election to the post. However, his goals regarding the abolition of censorship were construed to be political by the regime. Indeed, abolishing censorship could threaten the foundations of the regime. Accordingly, as early as 1957, the authorities took a stricter approach aimed at regaining its former level of control. This meant that Słonimski’s presidential goals remained unfulfilled and he was removed from his post in 1959. As I have demonstrated, however, his personality and actions had an influence on non-financial aspects of the relationship between the regime and the Union.

Słonimski’s agency was especially clear during times of protest, as he was a vocal opponent of the Party-state politics and an instigator of the first open protest against the regime’s politics in 1964. This introduced a wave of Union protests throughout the

1960s. Słonimski’s ability to mobilise support for the opposition’s campaigns was unprecedented, although they did not match the numbers involved in the mass protests of the Polish October. Of course, in 1956 Poland had witnessed the crushing of the Hungarian revolt. In 1968, when protests against censorship escalated and turned into large student-led street demonstrations, the regime used violence to disperse the protesters. The Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia might have prevented the spread of protests in Poland out of fear of a similar fate. Hence the relationship

262 between the authorities and the Union was clearly influenced by the political context in the country and in other parts of the Soviet bloc. All the same, Słonimski’s role as an oppositional leader cannot be underestimated, and the agency of individual actors, especially prominent writers, was undeniable.

The agency of individual actors was not only pertinent to the Union’s aims. The regime also made use of its high ranking Party members. The Party-state attempted to exert greater levels of control over writers by getting Party officials to attend Congresses and special meetings of the Union which were called during the protests of 1964 and 1968 in order to influence debates and put pressure on Union members. The regime expected that the presence of highest ranking political figures would dissuade Union members from expressing harsh criticism of the regime’s politics due to the fear of consequences. At times this tactic was partially successful. However, most of the time it simply resulted in Union members carefully choosing their words to convey their message. Hence criticism against the regime was veiled by expressions of concern about the development of socialist literature. This did not mean that speakers supported the regime and its publishing policies. Rather, they aimed at not antagonising the Party-state any further. However, at times of crisis, the presence of

Party officials at special meetings seems to have had no effect at all on the debates.

For example, at the 1968 special Plenary Warsaw Branch meeting there was harsh criticism of the speech given by a top official at the Ministry of Culture and Arts,

Stanisław Witold Balicki. He was interrupted by boos from the audience and was later criticised not only by oppositional writers but also by writers who were Party members. Hence the pressure placed by the Party-state on the proceedings of Union

263

Congresses and meetings did not always achieve the expected result. It is also clear that the extent of dissatisfaction with the regime and its agenda was rather large.

The extent to which critical views could be expressed about Party-state politics is best demonstrated in Chapter Four, which analysed the Union’s influence on the politics of censorship and the extent to which writers could express negative attitudes towards censorship. This chapter demonstrated the regime’s diminished ability to use the

Union as a channel for transmitting top-down directives. However small the Union’s agency in influencing censorship policies at the time, its continued attempts to abolish the restrictive system of control over literary production clearly indicates the Union’s ability to express dissenting views. The analysis of protests and congress debates yielded interesting results, showing that there was considerable scope for expressing discontent with censorship, despite the fact that the regime had a monopoly over publishing. As writers’ livelihoods depended on the state, we would expect that criticism of the regime would be minimal or non-existent. Yet as the content of

Congress’ debates has demonstrated, Party-state politics, especially at times of upheaval, were openly criticised at plenary congresses as well as Executive Board meetings. In the post-Thaw situation, the, Congresses of 1956, 1957 and 1958 witnessed heated debates and calls for the abolition or at least the reforming of the censorship system.

Many writers saw freedom of speech as an inextricable part of their profession, and it was one of the most vital issues throughout the 1950s and 1960s. In order to regain control over literary circles, Gomułka retracted his electoral promises and as early as

1957, the Party-state took a stricter approach to cultural issues. In 1956, the Union’s

264

Executive Board was dominated by writers with liberal views, which diminished the

Party’s influence over the Union and its actions. The regime made attempts to rectify the situation, including the placement of loyal Party members into the governing structures of the Union. In addition, the regime continuously attempted to curb the possibilities for writers to express views which did not accord with the Party-state agenda.

Accordingly, journals with ‘inappropriate’ content and which did not support the state’s politics were subject to closure; so too were debating clubs which allowed for the expression of different opinions. Yet in attempting to silence oppositional and progressive opinions, the regime inadvertently caused a growth in the opposition. The closure of the journals Po Prostu and Europa resulted in several prominent writers returning their PZPR membership cards and at the same time joining an opposition group within the Union. Thus the opposition gained in numbers and its status was elevated because of the support it received from the most renowned Polish writers.

This first exodus of writers from the Party created the basis for future protests. The

Europa group became a big concern to the Party-state and the regime took steps to diminish its influence on the Union. However, the plan of action set by the Politburo in

1959 was not fully successful. It is true that for a while oppositional writers became less vocal and congress debates were less focused on controversial issues; however, this was partially due to the fact that the Union was negotiating pay rises which would be obtained if it adopted a new Writers’ Convention. The negotiations were continually held up by the regime, and this, combined with a shortage of paper, translated into diminished earnings for writers, along with dissatisfaction with the

265 state of literary production in the country. Thus the regime’s attempts to exert control by means of financial ‘blackmail’ and the silencing of oppositional views resulted in growing tensions which inevitably reached a head in the 1960s.

In 1964, former members of the Party, led by Słonimski, instigated the first ever open protest, which other countries became aware of because of the repressions placed on some of the protesters. Yet the repressions placed on renowned writers resulted in them having higher status amongst Union members and caused growing dissatisfaction with the regime’s actions. The Party-state tried to demonstrate that most writers supported the regime’s politics by instigating a collection of signatures under a letter condemning the protesters. Yet it is clear that signing this letter was a formality for most writers rather than a sign of true conviction and support for the authorities. Most importantly, it demonstrated the diminished level of Party-state control not only over literary circles, but over its own tool of control over the Union: the Primary Party Organisation (the POP).

The regime had been dissatisfied with the POP since the Thaw, because of its members’ inactivity and lack of engagement in advancing the authorities’ agenda. The

POP’s role and usefulness as a mechanism of control over the Union was analysed in

Chapter Five. That chapter also investigated the closely related issue of the extent to which the regime was able to rely on the POP during times of crisis. As the 1964 protest demonstrated, the POP was at times even more disobedient than the Union itself. Almost half of the POP members refused to sign the letter required by the authorities. Despite the regime’s attempt to bring the POP back in line through the verification of Party membership which followed the exodus of 10 renowned writers

266 from the Party in 1957, the opposition faction within the POP remained strong. Since the POP was meant to help the authorities exert control over the rest of the Union, this level of disobedience towards clear top-down directives is an indication of the widespread negative attitude amongst writers towards the regime.

1964 can be described as a turning point, since at this time the difference between

Party and non-Party writers became blurred or even irrelevant. Thereafter the POP’s usefulness in the advancement of the Party-state agenda was even more questionable than it had been in the initial post-Thaw period. The protest of 1964 also resulted in the POP and the rest of the Union behaving in the same way and taking part in the same protests against the regime and its politics. Indeed, I have argued that the POP became more of a creative union itself than a useful tool of control on behalf of the regime. The opposition faction within the POP actually instigated a protest of Party writers in 1966. The authorities’ reaction to this open opposition on the part of POP members resulted in another exodus from the Party of the most talented writers, further strengthening the oppositional faction in the Union. The fact that this protest could take place are a clear indication of the regime’s diminished control over the

Union and its members. The extent of the rebellion against the regime’s politics is unexpectedly large given the possible repressions and loss of earnings; the writers clearly accepted the risks and continued to fight for freedom of speech.

This does not mean that the Party-state was unable to exert control over the Union.

Censorship, the system of benefits and privileges, the Security Services and the surveillance of literary circles, combined with state hegemony over the publishing sector, allowed, at least in theory, for maximal control. However, as this thesis has

267 demonstrated, the greater the control, the stricter the approach, and the stronger the threat of repression, the greater was the level of opposition. Growing tensions regularly took the form of protests on the part of the Union; hence the relationship between the authorities and the Union was not a one-way street but was based on action and reaction. At times, the authorities were unwilling to use harsher measures to bring writers back in line. This research has suggested that when the regime imposed harsher repressions on protesters, this actually elevated their status among literary circles and attracted further support for the opposition. It is possible that the regime was weary of the situation and feared the possibility that writers’ protests would gain the support of other social groups. This, in turn, might have led to upheavals similar to those of October 1956.

The Union and its leaders were also aware of possible negative consequences. The regime could dissolve the Union, which would result in financial hardship for many of its members; and it could prevent them from continuing in their profession by removing their access to publishers. Yet despite the control which the regime did exert over the Union, writers were able to manipulate the system from within. They could also count on a certain level of leniency, since renowned names were useful to the regime for propaganda purposes. This, in turn, enabled further protests and the growth of opposition. As this thesis has demonstrated, at times Polish writers enjoyed a more liberal approach from the authorities than that experienced by their Soviet counterparts. This was particularly the case regarding the expression of open criticism towards the Party-state agenda, the possibility of organising protests and, at times, the experience of a more lenient attitude towards protesters.

268

Thus the relationship between the authorities and the Union depended on various factors. It was influenced by the political context of the time, by the actions and protests of oppositional writers, by the personality and actions of Union presidents, by the demands of rank-and-file members, and by top-down directives and a bottom-up movement. The usual view of communist rule is that it exerted great, if not near absolute, control. If this was really the case, how would it have been possible for the oppositional faction within the writers’ Union to exist at all? Despite the regime’s attempts to eradicate it, the opposition continued to grow. Furthermore, however unwelcome, open criticism of the Party-state agenda was possible, despite the regime’s continuous attempts to bring writers back into line. This makes it clear that there was a certain level of agency on behalf of the Union, and demonstrates that the

Party-state often struggled to maintain its grip over the Union and its members.

However limited the Union’s agency in influencing publishing and censorship policies during the Gomułka period, the long term effects of intellectual opposition cannot be underestimated. The existence of the oppositional faction and the frequent opposition protests of the 1960s made possible the development of a tradition of opposition which continued throughout the 1970s. When Gierek replaced Gomułka and a new period of liberalisation took place, the Union was no longer the main forum for expressing dissatisfaction with the regime. Social discontent grew and other groups within society became politically active in demonstrating their disapproval with the regime. It can be argued that the writers’ protest actions of the 1960s made possible the spread of opposition to other strata of Polish society during the next two decades.

269

This, at least indirectly, led to the emergence of the Solidarność movement in the

1980s.

270

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