A Moment in Warsaw

by Roman Goerss

As the elevator doors clicked shut, it finally hit me. Since arriving in Warsaw a week earlier, something had been nagging at the edge of my thoughts, something different about the city I couldn't put my finger on, and as the elevator lurched upward, I realized what it was: no one smiles here. I was in a building called the Palace of Culture and Science in the center of Warsaw. A large central tower flanked by two smaller buildings, at 757 feet it remains the city's tallest structure, as its creator likely intended. The building was a "gift" from the mass-murderer Joseph Stalin to the Polish people during the mid-1950s, and I struggled to believe that the structure being shaped like a giant middle finger was a coincidence. Literally dwelling in the shadow of a symbol of Soviet-era oppression was characteristic of the mood I'd found in many parts of Poland, a country that had been invaded so many times it was difficult to keep track of the wars its people had endured. When I asked students at our camp whether they believed Poland would be invaded again in their lifetime, I always received one of two replies: "Yes," or "I don't like to think about such things." When I later asked why so many people in the city frowned or remained tight-lipped, my hosts would explain that it was customary in central Europe to be more reserved in one's facial expressions, yet I couldn't help but feel it symbolized a melancholy I sensed in the city's architecture. Having worked briefly in U.S. politics, I was accustomed to dealing with groups who framed their objectives in apocalyptic, life or death terms. Now, after walking the grounds of Auschwitz and the other Nazi death camps in Poland, it is difficult to summon the same intense anger at unfair zoning regulations and inefficient health policy I'd once felt. Politics seems more real here, more serious, and I feel ashamed to have ever used words like "inhumanity" or "evil" thinking I knew their meaning. Promoting freedom abroad feels different, like I am playing for keeps in a much larger and more dangerous game, and I worry about how few people seem to be on the side of freedom. Still, there is cause for hope. I was deeply impressed with the knowledge and enthusiasm of the attendees at our recent camp, the local Poles and other young people who'd journeyed from Albania, Belarus, southern Russia, and Italy. Our local partners, the Polish American Foundation for Economic Research and Education (PAFERE), were incredible, and we anticipate further ventures together. My musing was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, and I stepped out into the observation floor of the Palace, far above the streets of Warsaw. The view was quite impressive. "Would you like to buy something?" Startled, I turned from the window to see a young Polish woman surrounded by statuettes of the Palace and other tourist trinkets. "Wait a minute," I said "you mean to tell me that the former symbol of communist domination in Warsaw, built on the orders of Stalin himself, has a gift shop??" "Pretty much," she said, and for the first time in a long while, I saw a smile. The statuettes were overpriced, but I have to say I've never been a prouder participant in capitalism.