April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
prison, protestors mowed down by water cannon
and beaten by riot police. A long black night had
fallen on Poland after sixteen months of
unheard-of freedom in a communist country,
freedom brought about by a unique movement
allying workers, students, intellectuals, farmers,
and artists. It was a movement born from years
of human rights work by, among others,
Zbigniew Romaszewski and his wife and
partner, Zofia.
Zbigniew Romaszewski
(1940-2014)
A Life in Human Rights
Eric Chenoweth
I
first came to know about Zbigniew
Romaszewski while working for the
Committee in Support of Solidarity, based in
New York. The Committee was established by
Polish opposition veterans Irena Lasota, Jakub
Karpinski and several others who were in the
United States, either as exiles or by
circumstance, on December 13, 1981. In the
early morning hours of that day General
Wojciech Jaruzelski imposed a martial law
regime on Poland. In fact, Jaruzelski invoked the
constitution’s provision for stan wojenny, a state
of war, a provision intended to rebuff external
invasion. At the time, however, the provision
was employed to destroy the threat to
communist rule posed by Solidarność (or
Solidarity), which had arisen in August 1980 to
unite Polish society in an independent trade
union and social movement. Not having any
clear constitutional justification, Jaruzelski
effectively declared war on the Polish people,
unleashing tanks, soldiers, truncheon-wielding
riot police, water cannons, and all other weapons
in the police state’s arsenal to destroy Solidarity.
Unlike Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in
1968, where the Soviet Union had to invade to
brutally quell rebellions, in Poland Jaruzelski
acted as a Soviet satrap, using Poland’s own
military and police forces to reimpose firm
communist rule.
––––––
In August 1980 in Poland, millions of
workers joined together in the largest and
most consequential national strike in the
annals of international trade unionism.
––––––
The Committee’s other job was to shine light not
just on the regime’s repression but also on
Solidarity’s organized resistance to martial law.
The Romaszewskis were among hundreds of
activists and leaders who had escaped arrest and
were busy putting into place the plans the
Solidarity movement had made for such a
circumstance. Workers and others were actively
resisting
martial
law
through
strikes,
demonstrations, wearing outward manifestations
of support for Solidarity such as pins––an act
subject to three years’ imprisonment, recreating
underground union structures at all levels,
distributing clandestine publications, and
organizing other acts of opposition to the
regime. Zbigniew Romaszewski was an initial
member of the Regional Coordinating
Commission of the Mazowsze (greater Warsaw)
region, one of the temporary underground
structures of Solidarity organized according to
its territorial structure.
Zbigniew and Zofia Romaszewski were also
behind one of the more daring acts of early
opposition to martial law, Radio Solidarność, a
series of renegade broadcasts that used
temporary transmitters set up on rooftops to
override the main state broadcasts with fifteen to
thirty-minute
programs
that
included
announcements by national and regional
Solidarity leaders in hiding, information about
worker resistance and the fate of those arrested
and detained in internment camps, and other
The Committee in Support of Solidarity was
created the next day and I, a young Americanborn trade union activist and lone non-Pole,
became the director. One key part of the
Committee’s mission was to chronicle the vast
human rights violations being perpetrated by the
government of Poland: tens of thousands
rounded up in internment camps, tanks rolling
over resisting workers (we documented more
than 100 killed), soldiers occupying factories,
police closing universities, students taken to
1911
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
of the trial proceedings. What struck me most at
the time were the statements of the two main
defendants and their colleagues. They all
displayed an easy defiance and assurance. They
were not backing down in the face of impending
imprisonment. In his speech, Zbigniew
Romaszewski told the court of the moral
bankruptcy of communism, asserted that the
judges lacked legitimacy, and promised further
resistance by a society “that had taken a step
forward in August 1980 and [was] not stepping
back.” The Radio Solidarność trial added to the
Romaszewskis’ growing legend.
independent news in a period when state
propaganda was trying to convince the Polish
nation that it had been utterly defeated and that it
was hopeless to resist. Radio Solidarność,
broadcast in every major region of Poland,
offered tangible proof of the lie that martial law
had destroyed the workers’ movement. Indeed,
the broadcasts helped to organize important
national protests (such as lighting candles in
windows at a specified time on the thirteenth of
each month, Italian strikes and work slowdowns,
and other actions that helped reinforce for Poles
the social bonds they had recreated through
years of political opposition had survived. The
Committee in Support of Solidarity’s busy
documenters, translators, and editors who
published reports of all the dramatic events
taking place in Poland discovered that even
more than demonstrations and clandestine union
structures, Radio Solidarność was one of the
more important proofs for American politicians
and opinion leaders that the union movement
was not destroyed.
––––––
Today, we view everything as inevitable:
Solidarity, 1989, the fall of the Soviet Union.
In August 1980, nothing was inevitable. Each
worker acted without knowing what the
consequences would be.
––––––
After a life engaged in struggles for human and
worker rights, including twenty-two years as the
longest- serving elected senator in Polish
history,
Zbigniew
Romaszewski
died
unexpectedly of a stroke in February 2014 at the
age of seventy-four. His life spanned the twin
totalitarian occupations of Poland of the
twentieth century and Poland’s reemergence as
an independent, democratic country after 1989.
He and his wife Zofia, who survives him, did
much to make that happen and their efforts are
worth recounting as a major contribution to
anticommunist opposition and democratic
activism.
Aside from the technical challenge of acquiring
transmitter equipment and recording the
programs, the broadcasts required semiguerilla
tactics, with close calculations for the activists
who set up the transmitters on rooftops in order
to escape the immediate police dragnet deployed
to find and disarm them. Unfortunately, the
police grew increasingly adept not only in
catching the activists who set up the transmitters
but also in closing in on the organizers. Zofia
Romaszewski and several activists were arrested
in early July 1982, and Zbigniew Romaszewski
later that month. They were charged with
“continuing union activities after December 13,
1981, and disseminating false information
through the broadcast of Radio Solidarność
about the political situation in Poland that could
incite unrest and riot.” At the conclusion of their
famous trial held in February 1983, Zofia
received a sentence of three years’ imprisonment
and Zbigniew a term of four and a half years,
while eight other defendants received sentences
of one to three years. Despite this setback, Radio
Solidarność continued to broadcast, although
with less frequency, and an even-more
audacious TV Solidarność was launched. The
Committee in Support of Solidarity reported all
Both were born in 1940 and survived the Nazi
occupation: Zbigniew in a concentration camp
where his father was killed; Zofia in hiding as
her parents, one Jewish, participated in the
Home Army resistance. They grew up during the
dark postwar Stalinist era in which Polish
communists, backed by their Soviet overlords,
entrenched totalitarian rule in the newly created
Polish People’s Republic. At the time,
communism appeared unchangeable and, as
recounted by Czesław Miłosz in The Captive
Mind, most intellectuals succumbed to its
dictates. Zbigniew and Zofia never did. They
both grew up with a deep understanding of
1912
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
that you yourself would go to prison for another—
that is very important.
human rights and of the heritage of Polish
freedom, learned in the privacy of their homes
from families who had lived in independent
Poland between the world wars and who had
survived the terrible conflagration of World War
II.
The June strikes and repressive aftermath
sparked the creation of a unique group, the
Workers Defense Committee or KOR, that
would help end the pattern of failed worker
rebellions in communist Poland and other
communist bloc countries by helping to bring
together intellectuals and workers in united
opposition to communist rule. Initially
composed of thirteen veteran opposition
intellectuals, KOR openly set out to overcome
the regime’s (up to then successful) ruling
strategy of atomizing society and keeping
different groups not only apart but at odds. It
was this strategy that had set workers against
students and intellectuals during the 1968
student protests and that had kept intellectuals
and students from joining workers in the 1970
strikes on the Baltic coast that were brutally
suppressed by police. KOR, which grew to
thirty-three
members
including
the
Romaszewskis, became a key instrument for
building the future Solidarity movement.
In the mid-1960s they both chose to study
physics at Warsaw University—science was one
way to escape and transcend political ideology.
There they fell in love and formed a lifelong
partnership to advance human rights and
freedom—a love story and partnership that
mirrors those of Andrei Sakharov and Yelena
Bonner in the Soviet Union, and Vaclav and
Olga Havel in Czechoslovakia.
By the summer of 1976 they had already been
active for several years in Poland’s opposition
movement, taking part in the 1968 student
protests, signing letters and the petition to
change the constitution of the Polish People’s
Republic, forming opposition study circles and
publishing samizdat. It was in 1976, however,
that they began to make a distinctive mark by
organizing support for workers brutally
repressed for spontaneous strikes in Radom and
Ursus. The Romaszewskis traveled forty-three
times to Radom that summer to get legal
assistance for arrested workers, monitor the
court proceedings of those charged, and raise
material aid for the repressed workers and their
families. Zofia described the thinking behind
their actions in an interview for the Bush
Center’s “Freedom Collection:”
––––––
During the heady events of 1989 to 1991,
what was clear was that the fall of
communism was the result of millions of
people rising up to determine their fates.
––––––
Some in KOR were elder statesmen of Polish
opposition whose role was to craft and endorse
proclamations, denounce the government for
violating the Helsinki Accords, or develop
manifestos and resistance strategy. Others
organized underground publishing houses that
aimed at putting out banned literary and
scholarly books. Others, like the Romaszewskis
and Jacek Kuron, joined by his wife, Danuta, to
name a few, undertook the organizing and active
defense of workers who were fed up with
government-imposed price increases and wage
controls, the tyranny of enterprise directors, and
the social and workplace manipulation
engineered by communist-controlled trade
unions.
These were mostly people who never had any runins with the courts, with any criminal past, they
knew nothing about these things, and they were
completely helpless in the face of the machinery of
coercion in Poland. So, they did not know such
things, as what is a defense attorney, where you get
one, how do you apply for a food parcel, for mail
[privileges of prisoners to send and receive mail],
for a jailhouse visit—they were entirely helpless in
this whole context. . . .
You know, any movement can become organized
and be effective when it has some form of
protection. What I mean is, when people are able to
organize in such a way, where there is a component
of empathetic solidarity, protection, and where
people know that it is one for all and all for one—
The experiences in Radom led the
Romaszewskis to create the Intervention Bureau
1913
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
of KOR, a not legal but more formal means for
defending citizens’ rights. In taking on this large
task, the Romaszewskis and others built a broad
network of helpers who educated workers in
international labor rights, documented human
rights violations, found lawyers to defend
workers arrested or fired from their jobs,
traveled around the country to monitor judicial
proceedings and bring assistance to families of
imprisoned workers, advised families on how to
ensure that prison authorities honored the rules
for family visits, and generally made sure that
workers knew they were not alone in their
struggle against the communist Leviathan.
Based
on
the
Intervention
Bureau’s
documentation, Zbigniew and Zofia launched
the Polish Helsinki Commission, which
produced a famous comprehensive report to the
1980 Madrid Review Conference of the Helsinki
Final Act.
experience, they knew the possible risks: prison,
dismissal from work, police harassment,
retribution against family members, or, worse,
targeted violence or “liquidation.” Polish
workers stood up to demand basic rights and
freedoms knowing the real possibility of the
ultimate retribution: a Soviet invasion. They did
so because they had taken what Romaszewski
called “that major first step towards freedom”––
the belief that it “was one for all, and all for
one.”
––––––
In the end, Polish society used the 1989
elections to register an overwhelming
referendum against communism, electing
Solidarity candidates by 90 percent of votes
in all but one of the contested elections and
refusing to vote for most communist party
candidates.
––––––
The work of the Romaszewskis, KOR, and other
colleagues was history in the making. Their
efforts helped convince more and more people
that they were not alone and that they possibly
had power by joining together. This sense was
made even more palpable by John Paul II, the
first Polish Pope, who during his inaugural trip
to Poland in 1979 told the millions of people
who gathered to hear him “to live in truth” and
“not to fear.” The true impact was seen soon
thereafter, in August 1980 when millions of
workers joined together in the largest and most
consequential national strike in the annals of
international trade unionism. As the nationwide
strikes grew in strength and gained international
support, the Polish authorities were forced to
sign the Gdańsk Accords, whose first provision
recognized the right of workers to create and
join independent trade unions of their own
choosing—a fundamental admission that the
communist government did not represent the
working class.
During the first period of Solidarity’s legal or
aboveground existence (August 1980 to
December 1981), most of the intellectuals in
KOR were key advisors helping to devise
strategy. Zbigniew Romaszewski had earned
enough of the workers’ trust to be elected to the
union’s National Commission and its acting
body, the presidium. The Romaszewskis also
organized Solidarity’s “Intervention and
Lawfulness
Commission,”
a
way
of
institutionalizing their human rights protection
mechanism within the trade union. The sixteenmonth period of Solidarity’s first legal existence
was often called “the carnival.” The term
reflected the Poles’ joyfulness about their
newfound ability to express themselves and
organize in a relatively free atmosphere. In fact,
however, this period was fraught with constant
tension. The communist hierarchy, still fully in
control of the state, tried at all points to protect
as much of its power as possible and constantly
tested Solidarity’s and Polish society’s mettle
through police attacks, harassment, dismissals,
targeted enterprise closures, engineered food
shortages, and military and police maneuvers.
Suddenly, all of Polish society had achieved a
fundamental understanding of social solidarity
and willingly took on the power of the
communist state. Today we view everything as
inevitable: Solidarity, 1989, the fall of the Soviet
Union. In August 1980 nothing was inevitable.
Each worker acted without knowing what the
consequences would be. From previous
The Romaszewskis documented everything
and organized a defense system for all acts of
repression—legal help, a public spotlight,
1914
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
The authorities released Zofia and Zbigniew
Romaszewski early, about a year apart in 1984
and 1985, as part of “amnesties”—an annual
ritual in which the authorities would release
some political prisoners in order to get relief
from sanctions imposed by the United States
and, to a lesser extent, Western Europe. The
Romaszewskis were in no way broken; indeed,
they remained resolute. But like other released
political prisoners, they found themselves in an
odd situation. They were no longer in prison, but
they could not go back into hiding or reenter
clandestine Solidarity structures—this would be
too dangerous for their still-underground
colleagues. They now had to figure out how to
continue organizing resistance for Solidarity.
financial aid, material assistance—all while
building a network that could survive a major
crackdown. Behind all of the Romaszewskis’
efforts was an understanding that opposing
dictatorship was not an abstract idea: everything
taking place in Poland involved real people,
whose lives were often harmed by the risks they
took to speak up and act on their beliefs. Every
day they encountered the true impact that the
communist system, in all of its repressive and
bureaucratic apparatus, had on ordinary people.
They made sure that Solidarity lived up to its
name as a moral creed and never forgot those
who took risks and suffered the consequences.
––––––
The transitions in Eastern Europe and the
former Soviet Union have turned out to be
much less than what human rights activists
and leaders hoped for. The revolutionary
chorus of “one for all, all for one” changed to
a cackle of political ambitions and selfinterest, not the least of which were the
functionaries from the old regime protecting
themselves and their associates.
Upon their release, the Romaszewskis did what
came naturally. They recreated the Intervention
and Lawfulness Commission in 1985 so as to
organize protection and material assistance for
repressed Solidarity members and their families.
The structure was neither legal nor underground,
and its activities were both public and
clandestine. Despite the informal nature of the
structure, the Romaszewskis retained their initial
authority to act from Solidarity’s legal existence.
This authority was reinforced by statements by
Solidarity’s underground structures and the
union’s chairman, Lech Wałęsa, who was also
outside prison. Despite the formal lifting of
martial law and the supposed general nature of
the amnesties, the scale was now even greater,
involving thousands of repressed workers who
were still frequently detained, sentenced by
administration to large fines, sentenced to
imprisonment by penal courts, constantly under
police surveillance, dismissed from work and
unemployable, their children harassed and
prevented from studying at university, and
otherwise repressed by the regime.
––––––
Internally, within the leadership of the union,
indeed within all of Polish society, there was a
constant debate over how far to go and what
would provoke the authorities beyond a breaking
point that would result in a crackdown or Soviet
invasion. The historical evidence shows that the
regime began preparing a crackdown even as it
signed the Gdańsk Accords in August 1980 and
that General Jaruzelski carefully directed the
plans as they evolved. The Soviet leadership was
regularly informed of these plans, and Soviet
threats to invade were meant to prod Jaruzelski
to take action earlier. In the end, the crackdown
engineered by Jaruzelski was thorough and
complete, but ultimately, as Romaszewski
predicted, it failed to break Solidarity and the
Polish people’s resistance. Most Poles had
indeed taken “the first major step toward
freedom.” As the Romaszewskis proved after
martial law, with enough preparation to resist a
crackdown, Polish society would not take a step
back.
Surprisingly, the Polish authorities allowed
Zofia to travel to the United States as part of the
effort to show “liberalization” in exchange for
sanctions relief. It was then that the Committee
in Support of Solidarity’s president, Irena
Lasota, herself a prison veteran from the 1968
student protests, met Zofia for the first time. The
two women were of a similar age and had
similar orientations: they were people of both
action and compassion, with common strategies
1915
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
June 1989. From the evidence, it appears that the
Polish authorities believed they could neuter
Solidarity by forcing the movement in a
subordinate position in parliament. In the end,
Polish society used the elections to register an
overwhelming referendum against communism,
electing Solidarity candidates by 90 percent
votes in all but one of the contested elections
and refusing to vote for most communist party
candidates, denying many a quorum to be
elected (required by the regime’s own electoral
law) and thereby denying the regime legitimacy
to rule. Ultimately, as satellite parties defected,
the communist government was too weakened to
survive. The first noncommunist government
was formed in September 1989. The “springtime
of nations” revolt by Eastern European countries
soon followed.
for opposing communism through peaceful
means and with similar understandings of the
necessity for helping people who suffered the
consequences of standing up for human rights.
Lasota and the Committee had raised money for
underground Solidarity and directed some of this
money to support the Romaszewskis’ network,
first in the broadcasting of Radio Solidarność
but also for human rights documentation and
social assistance.
What was needed now, Zofia argued, was social
protection on a vast scale. Tens of thousands of
workers had been dismissed from their jobs for
union activities. Hundreds were still in prison.
They and their families needed assistance, which
the underground Solidarity structures had
difficulty organizing. Without such assistance
there was a danger that the extended period of
repression by the communist state would again
break the social bonds of solidarity that had been
so important to the union’s existence. The
Romaszewskis argued that the recreated
Intervention Bureau could act more effectively
while operating semiopenly since they and their
network of human rights workers were now able
to travel within Poland with relative ease, no
longer fearing being caught and, given the
delicate diplomatic dance of the Polish
authorities with Western governments, unlikely
to be arrested again. The Committee raised a
substantial amount of money in the next several
years for this purpose. Other organizations, like
Joan Baez’s Aurora Foundation, also provided
grants totaling more than $100,000 over three
years. Irena Lasota organized channels for the
delivery
of
this
assistance
and
the
Romaszewskis developed means for receiving
and distributing the assistance with none of it
being seized.
––––––
Before 1989, nearly everyone thought that
getting rid of communism and bringing
democracy to Eastern Europe was impossible.
Afterwards, the same “experts” who had
thought such a change impossible declared it
“inevitable”: communism fell because the
system failed.
––––––
In the June elections Zbigniew Romaszewski ran
as a candidate in a working-class district of
Warsaw for a seat in the Senate, a newly created
upper chamber of parliament that initially had
limited powers with 100 contested seats. With
his wife running the campaign, Romaszewski
won one of the largest percentages of any
Solidarity candidate. In the years that followed,
he won re-election six times, serving a total of
twenty-two years, the longest-serving member
of parliament after June 1989.
Rebuilding these networks of social solidarity
helped bolster worker resistance. When workers
in Nowa Huta, Silesia, and the Baltic Coast
again organized well-targeted strikes in summer
1988, demanding the legal reinstatement of
Solidarity, the Polish authorities, fearing that the
strikes would again spread nationwide, agreed to
new negotiations that resulted in the Roundtable
Accords six months later. Not only did the
government agree to Solidarity’s legal
reinstatement, it agreed to semifree elections in
During the spring of 1988 the Romaszewskis
launched another, perhaps even more significant
initiative. They had long built networks not just
in Poland but throughout Eastern Europe,
understanding the struggle in Poland to be part
of a broader struggle against Soviet-imposed
communist regimes throughout the region.
Although there were still constant acts of
harassment and arrests of activists in their
network, by this time they had been acting for
1916
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
several years without arrest or serious
retribution. They believed it was now possible to
be even more bold: to hold an international
conference involving human rights activists
from throughout the communist bloc countries
as well as others, with the aim of fostering a
regionwide human rights movement. They
invited hundreds of people from throughout the
Soviet bloc, Western Europe, and the United
States to come to Nowa Huta, a communistcreated city built around a steelworks outside
Kraków, to discuss how to bring about
fundamental change with respect to human
rights in the region. While there had been crossborder meetings of KOR and Charter 77 of
Czechoslovakia, among others, this was the first
time that anyone had attempted to organize an
open forum for human rights activists from
communist countries.
got under way, the first strikes in Silesia began.
Vandervecken left immediately after his speech
to join the miners. It is hard to know the direct
impact the first International Human Rights
Conference in Nowa Huta had in spurring events
in Eastern Europe, nor the direct impact of the
second conference the Romaszewskis organized
in Leningrad in 1990 in spurring the downfall of
the Soviet Union. Certainly many of the
participants
went
on
to
become
parliamentarians, civil society leaders, and even
prime ministers and presidents of newly free
countries. What we do know, however, is that
this may have been the first time that many
human rights and democracy activists, all with a
similar purpose, had had an opportunity to meet,
talk, craft strategy, and declare for their
countries a common future dedicated to the
respect of human and worker rights.
The Romaszewskis got approval from local
Catholic Church officials to hold the conference
in a newly built church in Nowa Huta created at
the behest of and dedicated to John Paul II, who
had been bishop and cardinal of the Kraków
diocese and had long sought to build a church in
what the communists originally conceived as a
centerpiece to the atheist regime. (The director
Andrzej Wajda depicts the creation and socialist
culture of Nowa Huta in the film “Man of
Marble.”) The Romaszewskis believed that the
Polish authorities would not directly intervene to
prevent the conference from being held in this
church building, called Mistrzejewice; despite
the presence of battalions of black-coated secret
policemen outside, they were correct. In the end,
several hundred activists walked right past the
battalions to attend the conference. They
represented the by-now significant democratic
opposition movements in Czechoslovakia,
Hungary, and the Baltic states; human rights
activists from Russia, Romania, and Bulgaria;
and an array of representatives from other
repressed nations and ethnic groups within the
Soviet Union. The general secretary of the
International Confederation of Free Trade
Unions,
John
Vandervecken,
and
a
representative of the AFL-CIO, teacher and
union leader Albert Shanker, attended along
with human rights activists from Western
Europe and the United States. As the conference
––––––
The outmigration of more than 5 percent of
the total population––nearly a quarter of
Poles aged eighteen to forty––is a unique
phenomenon in a developed democratic
country and likely to create enormous
burdens on future governments.
––––––
Before 1989 nearly everyone thought that
getting rid of communism and bringing
democracy to Eastern Europe was impossible.
Afterward the same “experts” who had thought
such a change impossible declared it
“inevitable”: communism fell because the
system failed. During the heady events of 1989
to 1991, however, what was clear was that the
fall of communism was the result of millions of
people rising up to determine their fates. They
chose to bring about an end to communist
dictatorship and to craft a democratic future,
oriented to Europe and the West, for their
countries. Those who organized internal
opposition to communist regimes knew that any
change, any transformation, depended on
individuals standing up to and resisting the
state’s power and challenging communist
ideology. Without anyone to challenge the
system, it could have continued much longer.
There were many heroes who stood up and
resisted. Some are well known internationally,
1917
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
social crises, with political establishments
unable to present satisfactory solutions to the
electorate. In Poland, which supposedly has the
strongest economy of all post-Soviet bloc
countries, 2 million mostly young people have
left their homeland in the last ten years, most
never to return. The outmigration of more than 5
percent of the total population––nearly a quarter
of Poles aged eighteen to forty––is a unique
phenomenon in a developed democratic country
and likely to create enormous burdens on future
governments.
like Andrei Sakharov and Vaclav Havel; others,
like Zbigniew and Zofia Romaszewski, are
known in their own countries and even
regionally, but not more widely. Then there are
those who are wholly unknown but, as the
Romaszewskis could attest, whose actions were
the basis of the remarkable change and
transformation that took place. These were the
ordinary workers and members of society who
finally decided to stand up and be counted, to
create a new nation based on social solidarity,
joining in the chorus “one for all and all for
one.”
While many Eastern European countries are now
in the EU and NATO, and tied to the West,
nevertheless the transitions in Eastern Europe
and the former Soviet Union have turned out to
be much less than what human rights activists
and leaders had hoped for. The revolutionary
chorus of “one for all, all for one” changed to a
cackle of political ambitions and self-interest,
especially regarding the functionaries from the
old regime protecting themselves and their
associates. In the former Soviet Union, most
countries simply switched from communist
dictatorship to authoritarian rule by KGB
veterans—Putinism and its variations, rule
protected by a new oligarchic elite of former
communists that controlled most of the
economic assets. In Eastern European countries
there was more development of basic democratic
institutions, but in fact a great deal of political
life has been stunted and warped by the
continuing influence of former communist elites
in public and economic life.
Many revolutionaries from 1989–91 were either
incapable of confronting the new challenges of
democratic politics or, worse, were seduced by
power and money and simply forsook their
principles and the people they once led. There
were a few, however, who never stopped trying
to fulfill the hopes of 1989. As a senator,
Zbigniew Romaszewski was among those few.
He set about trying to institutionalize human
rights into legislation, called for accountability
for the human rights violations of the communist
regime, and challenged the new economic
orthodoxy of free markets, which seemed to
benefit mostly old communist officials. Many
Solidarity leaders cashed in on the new free
market in Poland and some became antiunion
zealots, but Romaszewski stayed true to his
roots, defending workers against forced closings,
massive unemployment, and lack of social
services. He sponsored legislation to support
Solidarity activists who had permanently lost
jobs and ended up in dire poverty as a result of
their courage under communism.
Twenty-five years after World War II most
Western European countries were well
developed democracies with stable politics and
economies. Twenty-five years after 1989,
Eastern European countries are facing different
degrees of political turmoil and economic
distress. No country, not even the most
successful Baltic States, has stable political
parties that reflect basic historical and social
interests in the manner of the Netherlands,
France, the United Kingdom, or even post-Nazi
West Germany in 1970, twenty-five years after
the cataclysmic World War II. Today, the Czech
Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Bulgaria, Poland
and Romania all face serious economic and
Romaszewski also stayed true to his
internationalism and his belief in the universal
struggle for human rights and dignity. He
remained a champion for freedom throughout
the former Soviet bloc and worldwide. In 1998
he and Zofia organized a third International
Human Rights Conference, this time hosted in
the Polish Sejm, or parliament, building to
highlight the unfinished business of human
rights implementation in postcommunist and
still-communist countries including the People’s
Republics of China and Korea and the last
unchanged Soviet satellite country, Cuba.
Among many other actions, he led international
efforts to defend helpless Chechens from
1918
April 2015
THE SARMATIAN REVIEW
makers of history. The Romaszewskis’
contributions to the struggle for Poland’s and
Eastern Europe’s freedom are immense, but
what struck me most about both of them was
how their sympathy for and commitment to
others mirrored their personal devotion to and
love for each other. It is rare to know individuals
whose private and public actions are a consistent
reflection of principled values and human
morals. The Romaszewskis were such
individuals.
Russian invasion, including organizing a special
Senate investigative commission on Chechnya
that took him to the war-torn region; advocated
for Crimean Tatars who were fighting Russian
chauvinism in their homeland in Ukraine after
returning from Soviet exile after forty-five
years; carried out human rights investigations of
crimes in former Yugoslavia; stood up to the
new authoritarian regimes in the Caucasus and
Central Asia; joined with his human rights
brethren in Russia against the rise of Putinism
and Putin’s reassertion of Russian domination of
the former Soviet empire; sponsored and
supported the creation of Belsat to offer
Belarusans independent news under the
dictatorship of Aleksander Lukashenka; and
traveled with Zofia to Cuba in 2006 to share
with dissidents the experience of Solidarity. In
retirement from the Senate, he and Zofia
undertook new human rights campaigns, among
them helping the Institute for Democracy in
Eastern Europe, the successor organization to
the Committee in Support of Solidarity, to
monitor elections in Georgia in 2012 that led to
the first peaceful and democratic transfer of
power in that country. A month before his death,
he traveled to Ukraine to register his personal
support for the civic Euromaidan movement.
In 2014 Zofia Romaszewska lost her partner of
more than forty-five years; their daughter
Agnieszka, who continued in her parents’
footsteps and currently directs Belsat, has lost a
devoted father and teacher. Poland has lost a
great hero. I, along with many others in dozens
of countries, have lost a true friend, someone
whose values and commitment helped guide us
for thirty years. Zbigniew Romaszewski never
viewed any issue as complicated and was never
tied up by any ideology. He always stood on the
right side, the side of human rights and freedom,
wherever and whenever it was needed. I hope
his legacy continues to guide me and others as
well.
Editor’s Note: In 2014, Zofia Romaszewska was
awarded the Lech Kaczyński Medal for her lifetime
work on behalf of human rights.
I first came to know the Romaszewskis by
editing accounts of Radio Solidarność and
informing the American public of their daring
resistance to martial law. After their arrest, I
reported on Zbigniew Romaszewski’s calm and
certain declaration of future victory in court—
even as he, Zofia, and his colleagues faced
several years’ imprisonment. Despite not sharing
a common language––I never learned Polish
well enough to converse––I came to know both
Zosia and Zbyszek closely after their release
from prison. After Zofia’s trip to the United
States I raised funds from trade unions, human
rights groups, individuals, and the NED to
support their campaigns of social solidarity and
lawfulness. I also assisted their organization of
the Nowa Huta and Leningrad International
Human Rights Conferences and several of their
post-1989 efforts, including the third conference
in Warsaw to keep the spirit of Solidarity and
human and worker rights alive in the region.
Throughout, I knew I was in the presence of true
Between clichés and
erasure
Eastern and Central non-Germanic
Europe as an “empty syntagm” in
contemporary public discourse
Dariusz Skórczewski
ABSTRACT
Drawing on the ancient rhetoric tradition, this paper
employs the notions of “figure of thought’” and
“figure of speech” to address the issue of the
ambivalent “soft” status of Eastern and Central nonGermanic Europe in various contemporary public
discourses in the Western world, such as discourses
1919