Post on 25-Apr-2023
Our roots are in Communism, our dreams are in heaven,
and there is no connection. The problem is finding a middle road.
You can find this struggle in the Polish press.
--A. Jonas, Warsaw Voice
December 1991
I. Introduction
II. Press Freedom in Poland, 1945-1989
A. The Cold War Era: 1945-1980
B. Solidarity and the Seeds of Media Reform: 1980-1981
C. Martial Law: 1981-1983
D. The First Polish Press Law: 1984-1989
E. Press Law and the 1989 Roundtable Agreement
III. The Theoretical Foundations for Polish Press Freedom
IV. Quest for Post-Communist Models of Press Freedom
V. The Politics of the New Broadcast Act
VI. Conclusion
Acknowledgements
The author thanks Dr. Tomasz Plonkowski and Dr. Michal Gajlewicz, both of the
University of Warsaw, for their valuable assistance on this research project between
October 1991 and January 1992.
2
I. Introduction
The dissolution of the socialist order since 1989 has forced a radical reconstruction of
press freedom in the "new" Eastern Europe. Poland, as one of the first nations to
disengage itself formally from the Soviet sphere of influence, offers an important
example of the conceptual and structural difficulties journalists and policy makers face in
reconstructing freedom of expression in the post-Communist era.
Poles quickly recognized that the theoretical vacuum left by the collapse of the
socialist system cannot be filled so easily by Western models of communicative
democracy. The dominant Western models pose particular problems for Poland: the
American view of "free press" fails to resonate with the Polish political and
communicative culture; the European models are themselves in a state of flux, as
evidenced by the EEC's negotiations on telecommunications. For Poland, the dissolution
of the socialist media order has not meant the triumph of the Western press theories.
Ironically, the end of the Cold War exposed the limitations and weaknesses of
Western models of free expression more effectively and substantively than did almost 50
years of socialist propaganda. Eastern European nations, looking anew to the West for
guidance on democratization of their media systems, found the West still embracing an
oversimplified, Cold War view of their own models. They found, too, what scholars had
observed even before the end of the Cold War: "the United States and the European
nations were presumed to be operating under the libertarian and social responsibility
approaches," but these simplified models fail "to provide answers to the problems posed
by increasing economic and elite control of the marketplace for ideas, or to take account
of the responses made to such problems by a number of European nations . . ." (Picard,
1985b: 66). The Cold War thus encouraged Western nations to gloss over the variety of
perspectives on state-press relations found inside and outside NATO borders. The end of
the Cold War, however, exposed the substantive differences--and the glaring weaknesses
3
and contradictions--in media Western models to the watching world of former Warsaw
Pact countries.
This paper assesses the Polish search for a new model of press freedom that can,
to paraphrase Warsaw Voice editor, Andrzej Jonas, take Poland from its Communist
roots to its heavenly dream without getting lost on the way. The study considers first the
historical and theoretical contexts to the Polish quest for a new model of free expression.
Drawing on intensive interview with more than a dozen Polish journalists--from Poland's
largest circulation newspaper, Gazeta Wyborcza, to Trybuna, one the Polish Communist
Party's official newspaper, Trybuna Ludu (Tribune of the People)--this study then
examines the distinctive features of the Polish media and their need for a distinctive
Polish model. The final section analyzes Poland's first substantive revision of media
policy, the new Broadcast Act, and its implication for an emerging press model. Inherent
in this discussion will be consideration of the relative utility of Western models of
democratic communication for post-Communist nations.
II. Press Freedom in Poland, 1945-1989
The development of free press models after the socialist era can only be understood in
the historical and cultural contexts which shaped post-Communist nations like Poland
and their media. The history of press freedom in Poland highlights dramatically the
inherent dangers of transplanting wholesale models of free expression across national and
cutural boundaries.
A. The Cold War Era: 1945-1980
The information policy of the Polish Communist Party was the informal policy of the
Polish state, and both were under the authority of Soviet leadership for 40 years. Under
this arrangement, Polish media policy equated public information with party propaganda.
4
The media served Poland as instruments for state propaganda according to the Soviet-
Leninist press theory embraced by successive Polish party congresses (Pisarek, 1991a:
208).
Media policy was informal insofar as no comprehensive Polish press law existed
during this period. But unlike other socialist countries, Poland had explicit, formal
regulations limiting censorship. The state censored the press anyway, of course, albeit
quietly. Other socialist countries had few such formal prohibitions and they exercised
authoritarian control over media content with impunity. By contrast, the image of Polish
state-sanctioned censorship accepted beyond the nation's borders was therefore one of
relative communicative openness and freedom. "Even UNESCO bought into this false
notion of censorship in Poland" (Pisarek, interview, December, 1991). But Poles--media
professionals and citizens alike--understood the contradiction between state rhetoric and
state action: the party exercised censorship, yet denied it.
The government maintained a special office for the control and censorship of the
press. Censorship involved a two-step process: (1) review of content at the manuscript
level and then (2) confirmation of acceptability prior to distribution. Censors monitored
newspapers, lectures, stage performances, illustrations, photographs and almost every
other form of public communication. Journalists and professional communicators were
state employees, and the state maintained overall control of their work. Employment in
the media and public communication industries depended, in large measure, on one's
explicit commitment to or implicit acceptance of party interests and socialist goals.
Western criticism of these policies and practices neither undermined Poland's
underlying Soviet-Leninist assumptions nor offered an attractive "democratic" alternative.
From the beginning of the Cold War and the Polish Communist era, Poles recognized that
the American view of press freedom (and its Western post-war progeny) depended on a
very limited definition of "democratic communication:" the absence of government
5
control. Witold Konopka, a Polish delegate to the U.N.'s 1948 Geneva Conference on
Freedom of Information, observed that the American view of freedom as the absence of
governmental restraint left the nation's citizens vulnerable to economic control by a few
media proprietors. Citing the findings of the Hutchins Commission on Freedom of the
Press (1947), Konopka observed that the American model of a free press left the
determination of "facts, versions of facts and opinions" in the hands of fewer and fewer
media entrepreneurs. Capitalism was no guarantor of free expression; to the contrary, it
was, in the Polish view, antithetical to truly democratic communication. Even the
American delegation's chair, William Benton, acknowledged "that the United States press
was not free from defects, which it was hoped would be remedied eventually" (Blanchard,
1986: 190).
Poland thus rejected an American-Western understanding of freedom of the press,
with its distrust of government power and its faith in the "invisible hand" of capitalism,
on both ideological and pragmatic grounds. Poland embraced a Soviet-Leninist view of
the press in large part because the Soviet leadership would not tolerate alternatives. At
the same time, the available Western alternatives were not intrinsically more democratic
than the existing Polish system. Both the Hutchins Commission and Polish media
professionals recognized that corporate control of expression could be just as repressive
and undemocratic as governmental control. The American-Western press model did not
offer, therefore, a more democratic alternative to the Soviet-Leninist model, but only a
different (and sometimes larger) set of problems and limitations.
B. Solidarity and the Seeds of Media Reform: 1980-81
Nevertheless, the Polish government's inability to address the problems and limitations
of its economy initiated the dramatic unraveling of Poland's socialist system and planted
the seeds of media reform. By the end of the 1970s, Poland's economy was a disaster:
6
massive debt halted the nation's industry and frightened international investors away.
Goods and services became increasingly scarce as the standard of living plummeted. The
severity of Poland's economic crisis and its clear political ramifications soon
overshadowed all of the nation's other pressing problems.
The first seeds for a national agenda of reform were planted by the visit of Pope
John Paul II, formerly Archbishop of Krakow, to Poland in 1979. His message explicitly
tied human rights and national identity to the historic struggle of Polish Catholics against
invaders and oppressors (John Paul II, 1979). The pope's message "transformed peaceful
religious celebrations into object lessons on reappropriating the public sphere from the
Communists" (Hauser, 1992: 181-182). The following summer labor unrest erupted in
Poland's shipyards and Solidarity was born (Bialecki, 1982).
From its beginning, Solidarity struggled to articulate a concept of democracy and
to clarify the goals on its reform agenda. Solidarity offered the rhetoric of a "democratic
society," but failed to explain it in unambiguous terms or in concrete political action
(Krol, 1981; cited in Jakubowicz, 1990b: 336-37). Consequently, Solidarity's public
program was a muddle of emotionally charged, but nebulously defined concepts like
"freedom of speech," and a curious--often contradictory--mix of socialist, capitalist and
religious rhetoric. That language invested the movement with the discourse of moral
authority, but absolved it of detailed responsibilities (Baughman & Kozminski, 1992: 36-
42).
"Democratic communication" was central to Solidarity's political vision for a
"new" Poland from the start. The union's leaders and the journalists within the
organization were divided, however, over just how "free" the press should be within
Solidarity itself. Journalists attending the Second Congress of the Solidarity Press in May
1981 called for full editorial independence, including the right to criticize the movement's
leadership, and for the right of newsworkers to elect and to recall editors. Invoking
7
distinctively Western terminology, they argued that "an independent press constitutes one
of the major guarantees of internal democracy and a watchdog over the officers" (cited in
Jakubowicz, 1990b: 347; emphasis added). The Congress, however, approved a policy
that elevated the views and interests of the organization over those of the individual
journalists working within the labor movement.
At the Solidarity Congress in September 1981, the union adopted the policy that
members had "the right to untrammelled expression of opinions" and that union officials
could not interfere with the editorial freedom of newsworkers, except in times of conflict.
But the Congress also gave union leaders broad discretionary powers over the
organization's various publications. Many union officials quickly used that power to
censor Solidarity newspapers, limit access to information, and fire journalists they
disliked. Some union leaders even went so far as to shut down "troublesome"
newspapers. In response, entire editorial staffs staged protests against their union leaders
(Jakubowicz, 1990b: 347-348). The union was at war with itself over press policy.
Despite these internal policy conflicts, the Interfactory Strike Committee of the
Gdansk Shipyard initiated national media policy reform in its negotiations with the
government. In August 1980, the government accepted some of the committee's press
policy demands and forwarded them to the Sejm, Poland's parliament. Solidarity and
other reform groups were invited to give direct input on an anti-censorship bill. The
resulting Law on Censorship of Publications and Performances, adopted in July and
enacted October 1, 1981, established the principles of diversity in media content and of
public accountability: (1) the law permitted the Catholic Church to broadcast religious
services over the radio, and (2) it allowed professional communicators to identify acts of
state censorship and to appeal such acts to the Supreme Administrative Tribunal (Pisarek,
1991a: 209; Jakubowicz, 1990b: 344). This liberalized policy on censorship would last
only 11 weeks, however.
8
C. Martial Law: 1981-1983
Solidarity's efforts to dismantle the party's domination of communication policy ended
on December 13, 1981 with General Jaruzelski's imposition of martial law. The
crackdown was total and traumatic. The military arrested Solidarity members and used
force to suppress dissident workers. The government terminated freedom of speech,
assembly, and press; it prohibited the distribution of all publications; it subjected all mail,
telephone conversations and other means of communication to censorship; it reduced
radio and television broadcasts to one station controlled directly by the military; and it
closed the nation's schools and universities indefinitely. Though some of these
restrictions were gradually relaxed over time, martial law remained in effect from
December 1981 to July 1983.
Despite the severity of the crackdown, the government found it difficult to
maintain comprehensive control over communication and to sustain its suppression of
Solidarity and the reform movement over time. In August 1980 journalists tied to
Solidarity had formed the Association of Polish Journalists (APJ) in opposition to the
authorities. After martial law was imposed, the government arrested and/or fired many of
the APJ journalists; others, who escaped arrest or firing, quit in protest against the
government's action. Almost overnight, more than one thousand experienced journalists
stopped working for the state-controlled media. The government quickly replaced them
with new people who often were not qualified, but had the approved party affiliations and
ideological commitments.
Some of the experienced journalists who were terminated or quit, and even some
who remained, moved underground and established an active, albeit eradict, dissident
press. Younger and less experienced journalists guided the underground press, and they
attracted politically active amateurs to work on their clandestine publications, including
9
posters, flyers, magazines and newspapers. Despite their widespread support, the harsh
realities of daily living under Jaruzelski's restrictive policies seriously undermined the
incentives for overt opposition. The public's enthusiasm for confrontation and protest
gradually declined into passive resistance. Even a majority of journalists who had
boycotted the government's dissolution of the the APJ, reluctantly returned to the legal
media and joined the state-authorized Association of Journalsts of the Polish People's
Republic (Pisarek, 1990b: 210).
Martial law not only succeeded in stalling the reform process, but it throttled
Solidarity's efforts to develop a detailed or consistent media policy of its own
(Jakubowicz, 1990b: 344-348). From the imposition of martial law in 1981 to the
Roundtable discussions in 1989, Solidarity was in a fight for its own political survival.
Its communication policy concerns thus diminished as a priority as the union's political
oppression continued and the nation's economic crisis intensified.
D. The First Polish Press Law: 1984-1989
The declaration of martial law stopped the "counterrevolutionary schemes" of Solidarity,
but it did nothing to stablize the nation's crumbling economy. As conditions worsened
and the nation slipped closer to bankruptcy, the Communist regime became desparate to
regain the support of the country's work force. General Jaruzelski ended martial law in
July 1983, unveiled Poland's first general press law and made a series of concessions on
(relatively marginal) issues designed to win popular support for his programs.
The Press Law, submitted to Parliament in 1983 and adopted in 1984, embodied
the government's strategy of deception: it offered the rhetoric of "freedom of the press"
while maintaining a system of licensing, censorship and economic controls designed to
thwart non-socialist visions of freedom or democracy. It was "a particular mixture of two
contradictory tendencies: discipline and liberalism" (Pisarek, 1990b: 209). On one hand,
10
the law allowed the freedom to establish newspapers and to address a wide variety of
subjects journalistically. It instituted controls on secrecy, permitted opportunities for
corrections and replies, and established a Press Council. On the other hand, the law
required that all journalists have a license (issued by the censorship office) to publish any
periodical or to receive supplies of newsprint. The Press Law also amended the
censorship laws negotiated with Solidarity in 1981 to give authorities broad powers in
defining and regulating any information which might threaten "national security." The
law thereby erected significant barriers to obtain "real" permissions and scarce supplies
needed to publish. The 1984 Press Law thus "closed the way to journalism for the whole
antisocialist opposition" (Pisarek, 1990b: 209).
At the same time, the law's liberalizing elements only encouraged greater daring
among opposition activists and increased the resolve of the underground press. By 1989
the dissident press was operating with abandone and almost complete disregard for the
authorities. The advent of Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika policies in the Soviet
Union that same year isolated the Polish Communist Party from its Soviet mentors and
undermined what little remained of its coercive power and authority.
E. Press Law and the 1989 Roundtable Agreement
A dying economy and rapidly declining political power forced the Polish government of
General Jaruzelski to make concesssions to the opposition and to initiate the transition to
a new political-economic system. The government brought Solidarity and other dissident
groups together at the 1989 "Roundtable" conference to discuss how the nation might be
restructured. The meetings not only ended Poland's socialist experiment, but abandoned
the Soviet-Leninist model of public communication. The Roundtable sessions formally
terminated state-sponsored censorship and freed underground publishers to operate above
11
ground. They established an economic framework for linking Poland's free market
reforms to its communication industries, particularly the print media.
Poles greeted the "end of censorship" with much fanfare, but some noted
ironically that the "censorship office was just about the only Communist institution that
worked--it was actually a tremendously efficient operation . . ." (quoted in Weschler,
1989: 70; emphasis original). But the euphoria over the Roundtable "success" obscured
the fact that at least two specters of state control over the media still lurked in the "new"
Poland.
First, the Roundtable talks did not end all elements of direct state control over
Poland's circulation-distribution monopoly (RUCH). Under the new political regime, the
monopoly silenced "unwanted" or "critical" voices by refusing or deliberately delaying
delivery of offending publications, by under-reporting circulation to short-change the
publisher's revenues, and so on. Control at the point of distribution, as most Polish
journalists knew from experience, was just as effective in censoring expression as
expunging words from a manuscript at the production end of the communication process.
By controlling the distribution system, the state was able to (1) influence content, (2)
limit access to and by the public, and (3) control media revenues earned from circulation.
The new government's monopoly distribution system, like the old, was proactive
in influencing print media content throughout Poland. The deputy editor of the popular
weekly Polityka accused RUCH of "imposing conditions on publishers." Not only did
they withhold revenues ("they keep our money"), but they threatened to stop distribution
if publishers complained. "When we tried to push [to get our money and circulation
figures], they said, 'Watch out,' because we knew they could remove us from the kiosks."
When the post-Communist government appointed a new director to head the distribution
monopoly, he sent a letter to kiosk operators "telling them which titles to display and
12
support; they needed to support the new minority parties" (Baczynski, interview,
December, 1991).
Not surprisingly, accusations of de facto censorship and political intimidation
were voiced frequently by former Communist journalists. Stanislaw Cwik, assistant
editor of the Party's successor newspaper, Trybuna, accused the government of overt
complicity in using RUCH to stop or to limit distribution of the paper and to withhold
their sales earnings. "Trybuna is discriminated against by this monopoly," he charged.
This monopoly made up of "conservatives of Solidarity and Christian extremists,"
according to Cwik, treated "the left wing as a scapegoat" in their "right wing propaganda"
(Cwik, interview, December, 1991).
Second, the Roundtable talks did not acknowledge the potential for indirect
control by the state and other political and economic forces. By weaning the media from
direct state oversight and funding, the new leaders left the press vulnerable to outside
influences and pressure tactics with which it had no previous experience (Stasienski,
1991). In a media environment where freedom bordered on anarchy, the opportunities for
powerful individuals and special interests to intimidate, coerce or co-opt the media
increased dramatically.
Few policy makers or media professionals were prepared, moreover, for the
widespread collapse of the new, economically independent newspapers and magazines
that followed (Bratkowski, 1989). Most journalists and advocates of privatization
expected an economically independent press to flourish in the fledgling free market
economy (Jakubowicz, 1992). Instead, almost 90 percent failed, mostly from inadequate
financing, poor readership and/or an inability to attract advertisers or investors. None of
the many local Solidarity press initiatives survived (Baczynski, interview, December
1991). Few Poles understood the complexities of market reform or recognized the
13
dangers inherent in commercializing the press (Jakubowicz, 1990b; Hollifield, 1993;
Woycicki, 1991).
Changes in the economic foundations of the Polish media also produced some
wrenching changes in media content. Inexperienced journalists whose "opposition" style
had been arguably effective with the small-scale underground press often appeared shrill,
amateurish or sophomoric in the large-scale above-ground press. Poles, historically
repulsed by stories that expose the personal lives of public figures, found entire
publications devoted to private scandals and sleaze. Publishers quickly discovered,
however, that economic survival in a competitive marketplace often encourages grabbing
attention by breaking rules (Kowalski, 1988). Sex and sensationalism sold well at the
kiosks and publishers exploited them early and often.
III. The Theoretical Foundation for Polish Press Freedom
The press initiatives stemming from the 1989 Roundtable Agreement clearly marked
Poland's departure from the old Communist press model, but conceptual frames of
reference and structural elements of the old system did not suddenly disappear en masse.
The domestic imperatives to distance the "New Poland" from the old were sufficient for
Polish leaders to tilt media policy in a distinctively Westward direction. Powerful
external political and economic pressures also gave Poland few alternatives but to
accelerate its press reforms toward the West. The United States, the European
Community and other Western nations tied vital economic assistance (such as direct
foreign aid, Western investment, debt restructuring, loan guarantees, affiliation with the
EEC, etc.) and pressing security questions (membership in NATO, military aid, arms
agreements, etc.) to Polish progress on democratic and economic reforms of virtually all
institutional spheres, including the press.
14
Contrary to American Cold War rhetoric, no single, universally valid model of
democratic communication existed as the "natural" successor to Poland's former
Communist model. Confronted by a multiplicity of Western democratic views on the
media's purpose, rights, regulations, ownership, Poland has charted an uncertain course
somewhere between its old system of state control, and a new system of limited
privatization and democratic guarantees. The resulting middle course on press freedom
was set, in part, by Poland's recognition that least three different kinds of democratic
communication were possible (cf. Jakubowicz, 1990b: 335).
Permitting every citizen to be a communicator and to have direct access to the
media establishes, at least in principle, direct democratic communication. In Western
nations, the idea of direct democratic communication has been promoted, for example, in
"electronic town meetings," in "public access" television and radio channels, and in
"common carrier" telephone and electronic information networks, as means of involving
all citizens in "the democratic process."
The imperative for universal access to the media of communication exposes,
however, several conflicting notions of democratic communication commonly accepted
in the West. First, even under the best circumstances, the general population ordinarily
has little desire to take advantage of opportunities for access to the media. Few citizens
feel "qualified" or feel the need to express their ideas beyond their immediate circle of
friends. Even fewer citizens are interested (if ratings and revunes are any indicator) in
receiving or responding to the information conveyed through these "open" media. Direct
democratic communication has had minimal success outside small-scale socio-political
units.
Second, direct democratic communication systems are generally costly and not
financially self-supporting. Nations pursuing this form of communicative democracy
have typically made enormous state investments or offered generous subsidies to
15
establish and maintain such "democratic" media. On this point, however, Western
democracies are deeply divided. Without direct state support (as generally experienced in
the United States), economic forces inevitably drive poorer individuals out of the
communication system and out of the democratic process. With direct state support (as
provided in many Western European nations, especially Scandanavia), political
independence and economic competition are sacrificed for greater public access.
Representative democratic communication permits a nation's media to
communicate on behalf of its citizens and to bear primary responsibility for conveying
information vital to democratic action. This transfers expressive responsibility to media
professionals and streamlines the production and distribution of public information for
more efficient use.
Representative democratic communication, as found in many "social
responsibility" model media systems, exchanges de facto the individual's right of
expression for a right of reception, a "right to know." Communicative rights in this sense
transfer from the individual citizen to media professionals who have the legal and/or
moral responsibility to represent the informational interests of their publics.
Pluralistic communicative democracy enables individuals and publics within a
democratic structure to participate in the determination of goals and policies, even if few
are actually communicators themselves. This form of communicative democracy
recognizes the individual's relationship to groups with similar interests and affords
opportunity for the plurality of interests to be expressed through the media.
Communicative interests are not transfered to anonymous journalists, but to
representative groups empowered to affect policy decisions and/or to communicate
directly through public or private media.
This form of communicative democracy, exemplified to some degree by the
Canadian and Dutch media systems, typically requires greater state financing than a
16
representative democratic system. It also demands greater public direction and
participation than a representative system. And unlike representative communication
democracy, pluralism holds the various publics--not just independent professional
communicators--accountable for media content.
These varieties of communicative democracy have been poorly distinguished in
Western models of free expression. The lack of definition of "democracy" or "freedom,"
especially within the generalized Libertarian and Social Responsibility press models, has
endowed these dominant "theories" with moral legitimacy more than conceptual clarity.
The Democratic Socialist press theory, embracing a pluralistic perspective, has generally
expanded democratic concepts to include not only the media and political spheres, but
also the economic and social spheres as well. In each instance, the type of democracy
promoted has tended to dictate the nature of the press model applied (Picard, 1985b;
James, 1981). For Poland, the problem has been a desire to develop all three forms of
democratic communication without the inherent structural limits dictated by the existing
models.
IV. Quest for a Post-Communist Model of Press Freedom
Although the Polish press has generally positioned itself within the mainstream of the
three dominant media theories (Libertarian, Social Responsibility and Democratic
Socialist), it has been reluctant to pledge its troth to only one Western model. Poles have
instead expressed hope for the development of their own distinctive model of free
expression. The goal has been to reflect Poland's unique cultural characteristics and to
accommodate the full range of democratic possibilities. The goal has definitely not been
to mimic the American media system.
"We're looking for a new model . . . definitely not an American model"
(Holzer, interview, December, 1991); and
17
"People are not ready to accept an American-type press. It is too distant
from our historical circumstances" (Baczynski, interview, December,
1991).
Polish media professionals and policy makers alike have been inclined, instead, to
weave their way (more or less diplomatically) between an American model of free
expression and the democratic socialist models of the Western European press during this
phase of Poland's post-Communist transition. At least four factors have encouraged
Poland to take this independent course: (1) the nation's distinctive cultural expectations
and historical conditions; (2) Poland's pressing economic needs; (3) its unsettled political
state; and (4) its distinctive religious and moral environment.
First, Poland's distinctive cultural tradition and history have defined the public's
understanding of and expectations for journalistic "independence" and professional goals.
American demands for "objectivity" and editorial independence from political
partisanship, for example, run directly counter to Poland's long-standing tradition
(predating the Communist era) of partisan journalism. "The press is part of the governing
structure, not a fourth estate. In Poland, the profession has always been seen as a purely
political profession. You can't be a journalist and not be politically involved" (Baczynski,
interview, December, 1991). Polish journalists can have "no non-involvement" in
political affairs (Aleksandrowicz, interview, December, 1991) still command respect as
journalists in the Polish tradition.
That tradition also regards columnists and pundits more favorably than reporters.
"Becoming a columnist is the goal of every journalist . . . to show their own opinion.
Only these people are regarded as top professionals. Most journalists don't know how to
write simple information without expressing their opinion" (Jonas, interview,
December,1991). At the same time, Poles expect the press to be, according to Baczynski,
a "guide" and to "provide perspective." Even after the political upheaval, publishers
18
found that readers "still expected commentary and analysis" (Baczynski, interview,
December, 1991).
Any new Polish press model must not only contend with tradition, but with the
living legacies of the Communist era. According to Holzer, "Ninety percent of the
journalists in the old Communist system are still working, and their attitude is still the
same. . . . Older journalists were skilled in a different journalism. Their contacts are now
irrelevant."
We have a primitive form of press freedom. We don't have well-skilled
journalists or journalism ethics. We don't know how journalists should
behave. We're not sure what are the really important questions, or how we
should write or not write. . . . To be honest we are probably too cautious.
We behave like bad politicians, rather than good journalists (Holzer,
interview, December, 1991).
As a result, efforts to implement even the best model, in theory, will encounter
professional inertia, in practice. Tradition, professional aspirations, training and ideology
all conspire to thwart conceptual and structural change based on non-Polish frames of
reference.
Second, horrendous economic conditions have threatened the very institutional
survival of the put the Polish press and placed the media in a unique situation. Under the
old system, the media were financially backed by the state/party. Under the new system,
newspapers and magazines were "freed" to operate in the new free market economy. But
the free market economy was a wholly alien arena with which managers and publishers
had no experience. New publishers and business owners knew nothing about advertising,
marketing, competition and consumer behavior. The end of the socialist economy
suddenly thrust the problems of raising capital, paying salaries, negotiating contracts,
handling consumer complaints and a host of other demands upon an inexperienced few.
Even with all these problems, Poles recognized that Western models, developed
slowly within their own historical and cultural contexts, had no experience in post-
19
Communist economies. Existing models could be applied to Poland's experience only on
an experimental basis, at best; Polish-generated models of free expression would be no
more "experimental" or untested. In fact, from the Roundtable Agreement on, policy
makers approached the privatization of state media properties in a piecemeal, ad hoc
fashion, keeping some elements of the old system intact, such as RUCH and the state-run
broadcasting network, selling some properties to select "insiders," and opening the print
media to minority foreign ownership. Poland's uncharted economic waters, thus, called
for creative, but careful maneuvering by media policy makers.
Third, Poland's post-Communist political system has hardly been the model of
stability or unanimity. As early as the October 1991 parliamentary (Sejm) elections,
political power had splintered among more than 200 political parties (including "The
Friends of Beer" Party). Subsequent coalition governments struggled (and failed) to
garner sufficient support for the comprehensive reorganization of the political landscape
or to affect substantive policy change. The return of the former Communist "Social
Democrats" to power in the 1993 parliamentary elections represented a significant
challenge to many assumptions about the "triumph" of Western models of democracy vis-
a-vis the former socialist agenda. For the press, this unsettled political climate clearly has
made the wholesale adoption of Western models highly unlikely and provided additional
incentives for the development of a hybrid media policy capable of placating the
bewildering number of political interests in Poland.
And fourth, post-Communist Poland witnessed the reemergence of a distinctive
religious and moral environment. With the country's Catholic majority embodying the
antithesis to the previously atheistic state system, the media were compelled to redefine
their relationship to Catholic moral values and social ethics, while also negotiating the
moral minefields of a new multiparty political sytem and free market economy. The
20
media in Poland encountered these new problems particularly in the areas of
sensationalism and privacy.
"The American model is too brutal, too aggressive. Attacks on public
persons are seen as too aggressive. They make people feel dirty. . . . The
private/public line is drawn more clearly here. . . . Everyone
knowspoliticians have lovers, but that's their private affairs. " (Holzer,
interview, December, 1991); and
"In the Polish press tradition, there are no private pursuits of public
figures. People are angered by it. But the problem is that [publishers]
discovered it sells, and try to exploit this" (Baczynski, interview,
December 1991).
At the same time, the Church also exploits its moral authority and political capital
to influence thinking about stories in which the Church has a vested interest. All the
media professionals interviewed for this study reported having some first-hand
experience with Church-initiated self-censorship. For example, the managing editor of
the English-language Warsaw Voice claimed: "The Church institutes self-censorship. The
biggest threat is that you're cut off from information and sources. Journalists write around
issues because of perceived problems or difficulties . . . we avoid these problems"
(Bartoszek, interview, December, 1991).
A reporter for the daily Gazeta Krakowska noted that "in Poland many people go
to church on Sunday and sometimes the priest will say that you can see certain journalists
don't love God. When journalists write about church problems, the bishop or others will
write and say these people are enemies of the Church. It is something like a sin. This is a
small item, but our censorship experience is self-censorship. 'The Blacks' [black-robed
priests] are severely criticized, but not publicly. It's a bigger problem outside the larger
cities like Warsaw and Krakow" (Bochenek, interview, December, 1991).
21
The quest for post-Communist models of a free press are thus grounded in the
conditions Poland alone faces. Recognition of the genuine merits of models alien to the
Polish landscape has not, to date, tempted policymakers to adopted them wholesale.
While many journalists generally agree on what they dislike in other systems, they are not
agreed on what they do like.
"We're looking for a new model . . . definitely not an American model. In a few
years, Poland's press model will be closer to the German one" (Holzer, interview,
December, 1991).
"The best press model is Germany . . . very interesting papers . . . a press for the
people. The French situation is not good for Poland" (Bochenek, interview, December,
1991).
"People are not ready to accept an American-type press. It is too distant from our
historical circumstances. . . . We'll develop slowly our own model, which will be a
combination of the French model with the Polish tradition of commentary and analyses,
and a literary form of writing" (Baczynski, interview, December, 1991).
Not surprisingly, the models now emerging from Poland have little American
influence. But little of the French or German systems are discernible either. Perhaps
nowhere is Poland's policy direction clearer--and more unique--than in its new Broadcast
Act.
V. The Politics of the New Broadcast Act
In a television interview during the Roundtable negotiations, Jerzy Urban, a much
maligned technocrat then in charge of Poland's broadcasting system and later the editor of
the tabloid, NIE, said, "There is free speech in Poland. You can say anything you want in
Poland--just not on TV" (quoted in Weschler, 1989: 70; emphasis original). In fact,
Urban announced in 1989 that the government would "resolutely defend the political
22
cohesiveness of broadcasting" (Urban, 1989; quoted in Jakubowicz, 1990b: 346).
Solidarity, in turn, demanded the establishment of independent radio and TV channels,
control of broadcast news operations, and a restructuring of the primary administrative
agency responsible for broadcasting. The Roundtable opened Poland to limited private
broadcasting: Eastern Europe's first private television station, Echo, went on the air in
Poland in February 1990 from the windowless janitor's room of a student dormitory. But
the conference concluded with the government retaining clear and substantive control
over broadcasting. Industry and policy reform would have to wait for a later date
(Mrozowski, 1990: 216-220; Jakubowicz & Jedrzejewski, 1988).
Several post-Communist governments battled over drafts of different broadcast
bills designed to open the industry to greater private ownership and to disengage the state
from primary control, but each draft failed to garner sufficient legislative support or met a
presidential veto. Between 1990 and 1992, television reform was "a hostage to three
competing power centers:" the president, the government and parliament. The
government blamed negative media coverage for its repeated political failures and
canceled programs it disliked. It fired key network executives and replaced them with
"partisan zealots" (Nagorski, 1993: 223-224).
In March 1992 then Prime Minister Olszewski appointed Robert Terentiew to
head the broadcast news division. Terentiew proceeded to totally politicize television.
He announced that "this television will certainly not be antigovernment" and that young
reporters were not to ask "aggressive" questions. He also began to "clean out the people
tied to the old establishment" (Nagorski, 1993: 223).
For the rest of 1992, Polish broadcasting was in chaos with a revolving door
employment plan for administrators and political appointees. Gradually, after a series of
embarrassing political debacles, a "consensus grew that a broader solution, not successive
firings by whatever political camp was stronger at any given moment, was needed"
23
(Nagorski, 1993: 224). In December 1992 the parliament finally passed and the president
signed a new broadcasting law (Ustawa, 1993).
The act, which took effect at the beginning of 1993, restructured the national
broadcasting board (Title 2), opened access to public broadcasting by all political parties
"in matters of public importance" (Title 4, Article 23), licensed program distribution
(Title 5), regulated the distribution of programs on cable networks (Title 6), oversaw
broadcast subscription fees (Title 7), and established broadcaster's legal responsibilities
(Title 8). At its core, the new law opened the way for licensing private stations and set
new guidelines for state broadcasting operations.
The most distinctive and remarkable element of the nation's first post-Communist
broadcasting act was its explicit religious-moral regulations of content. Conservative
parliamentarians with close ties to the Church succeeded in inserting a controversial
clause into the law which required all broadcasting and cable programming to "respect"
unspecified "Christian values." The act required, for example, that the content of all
television and radio programs must "respect religious teachings and especially the
Christian system of values" (Title 3, Article 18.2). Public broadcasting must also "respect
the Christian system of values based on the universal principles of ethics" (Title 4, Article
21.2.6). The act provided no explanatory details or definitions as to how these "Christian
values and principles" were to be applied, what qualified as "respect" or what penalties
were to be meted out for broadcasting with "disrespect."
Critics in the Polish press charged that the new act was designed not so much as to
encourage Christian morality in the media as much as to censor stinging criticism of the
Catholic clergy. In fact, the broadcast law passed parliament amid a rash of increasingly
strident TV attacks on the clergy. One of Poland's most highly rated TV programs, "Olga
Lipinska's Cabaret," for example, regularly ridiculed the Catholic clergy as "the Black
Ruling Power" in its theme song. "The Blacks" have publicly rebuked such attacks on
24
their authority and sought to limit their exposure. For many Poles, however, the key
elements of the broadcast act that were designed to limit programming which failed to
reflect "Christian values" was parliament's concession to clerical outrage and the Church's
intensive lobbying.
Regardless of the motives behind the new broadcast act, it clearly constituted a
religious-moral intervention to manage media activity and attitudes ("respect") through
policy change. The policy had the power of legal force to make all broadcast
programming conform to and support, at least indirectly, the interests of the Church.
Overall, the state retained primary control of broadcasting through licensing,
content regulation and administrative oversight. Concessions to free market demands,
however, opened the industry to private broadcast operations. At the same time, the
Church closed the industry to programming which runs contrary to its religious and moral
standards. The new broadcast act thus embodies a model of free expression that mimicks
Western models on significant issues, but that also charts its own course with policy
elements distinctive to the Polish context.
VI. Conclusion
Media scholar, Beverly James, argued in her early work on economic democracy and
restructuring the press that "the task of devising a model press for a democracy must
begin with a reconsideration of the concept of democracy itself" (James, 1981:126). The
dissolution of the socialist order has given Poland's media and policymakers a window of
opportunity to reappropriate the public sphere and to reconstruct freedom of expression
conceptually and structurally on new democratic terms.
The political and economic realities of Poland's situation, however, have limited
that opportunity considerably. From the state's print distribution monopoly to the
Church's influence over broadcasting, the media are caught is a system of contradictory
25
ends and means. In this historic transition period, journalists seem anxious to move
toward a hybrid of representative and pluralistic democracy, a combination of Social
Responsiblity and Democratic Socialist press models. The nation's difficult economic
condition, however, limit how far the media can go in approximating the Western,
private-enterprise understanding of social responsibility. At the same time, the faithful
remnant of Soviet-Leninist journalists and technocrats helps elements of the old system to
endure in the face of overwhelming conceptual and structural change. What remains to
be seen is how the reemergence of the former Communist "Social Democrats" in
October's parliamentarhy elections will shift the nature of the debate on democracy and or
change media policy away from the steps of privatization and religious-moral
responsibility taken in the new Broadcast Act.
"When you enter a new field, you need new goals and targets, and for this
reason the Polish press has oriented to the West. But we will develop our
own ways with strong influences from the West. . . . We're in an
earthquake zone now. Developments will come when we're no longer in
an earthquake zone" (Jonas, interview, December, 1991).
26
Interviews
Aleksandrowicz, P. (1991, December). [Interview with Piotr Aleksandrowicz, deputy
editor-in-chief, Rzeczpospolita, Warsaw, Poland].
Baczynski, J. (1991, December). [Interview with Jerzy Baczynski, deputy editor-in-chief,
Polityka, Warsaw, Poland].
Bartoszek, B. (1991, December). [Interview with Bartlomiej Bartoszek, managing editor,
The Warsaw Voice, Warsaw, Poland].
Bochenek, M. (1991, December). [Interview with Marcin Bochenek, reporter, Gazeta
Krakowska, Krakow, Poland].
Cwik, S. (1991, December). [Interview with Stanislaw Cwik, second editor-in-chief,
Trybuna, Warsaw, Poland].
Holzer, R. (1991, December). [Interview with Ryszard Holzer, news editor, Zycie
Warszawy, Warsaw, Poland].
Irrgang, H. (1992, January). [Interview with Harry Irrgang, news translator, The Warsaw
Voice, Warsaw, Poland].
Jonas, A. (1991, December). [Interview with Andrzej Jonas, editor-in-chief, The Warsaw
Voice, Warsaw, Poland].
Makosa-Stepkowska, B. (1992, January). [Interview with Barbara Makosa-Stepkowska,
Institute of Journalism, Warsaw University, Warsaw, Poland].
Pisarek, W. (1991, December) [Interview with Walery Pisarek, Director, Press Research
Centre, Krakow, Poland].
Skalski, E. (1991, December). [Interview with Ernest Skalski, deputy editor-in-chief,
Gazeta Wyborcza, Warsaw, Poland].
Slomkowski, Z. (1991, December). [Interview with Zygmunt Slomkowski, foreign
correspondent, Trybuna, Warsaw, Poland].
27
References
Baughman, R. & Kozminski, A. (1992). The Rhetoric of Circumstance: The Case of
Poland, 1980-1990. In S. King and D. Cushman (Eds.), Political Communication:
Engineering Visions of Order in the Socialist World, (pp. 33-57). Albany, New
York: State University of New York Press.
Bialecki, I. (1982). Solidarity--The Roots of the Movement. Sisyphus, 3: 116-125.
Bratkowski, S. (1989). Poland, Solidarity, and the Press: The Difficulties of Returning
from the Moon. Washington, D.C.: The World Press Freedom Committee and
The Center for Strategic and International Studies.
Curry, J. (1981). Polish Journalists in the Policy-Making Process. In M. Simeon & R.
Kanet (Eds.), Background to Crisis: Polity and Politics in Gierek's Poland.
Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press.
Cushman, D. & King, S. (1992). Visions of Order in Poland, Yugoslavia, Armenia, and
China. In S. King & D. Cushman (Eds.), Political Communication: Engineering
Visions of Order in the Socialist World, (pp. 33-57). Albany, New York: State
University of New York Press.
Dennis, E. (1990). The Search for Freedom of the Press in the United States and Eastern
Europe. Gannett Center for Media Studies.
Dennis, E. & Vanden Heuvel, J. (1990). Emerging Voices: East European Media in
Transition. New York: Gannett Foundation Media Center.
Goban-Klas, T. (1990). Making Media Policy in Poland. Journal of Communication,
40(1), 50-54.
28
Hauser, G. (1992). The Communication of Cultural Memory and the Reconstitution of
Society," In S. King & D. Cushman (Eds.), Political Communication:
Engineering Visions of Order in the Socialist World, (pp. 163-186). Albany, New
York: State University of New York Press.
Hollifield, A. (1993, August). The Globalization of Eastern Europe's Print Media:
German Investment During the Post-Revolution Era. Paper presented at the
meeting of the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass
Communication, Kansas City, Kansas.
Hollstein, M. (1990, Fall). Free Press Struggles to be Born in Eastern Europe.
International Communication Bulletin, 25(3-4), 4-6.
Horvat, J. (1991). The Press in Eastern Europe. New York: The Institute for East West
Security Studies Lecture Series.
Horvat, J. (1991, March). Journalists and Mass Communication in Eastern Europe.
1991 Annual Address. Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan.
Jakubowicz, K. (1992). From Party Propaganda to Corporate Speech? Polish
Journalism in Search of a New Identity. Journal of Communication, 42(3), 64-73.
Jakubowicz, K. (1990a). Musical Chairs? The Three Public Spheres of Poland. Media,
Culture & Society, 12(2), 195-212.
Jakubowicz, K. (1990b). "Solidarity" and Media Reform in Poland. European Journal
of Communication, 5, 333-353.
Jakubowicz, J. & Jedrzejewski, S. (1988). Polish Broadcasting: The Choices Ahead.
European Journal of Communication, 3(1), 91-111.
James, B. (1991). Economic Democracy and Restructuring the Press. The Journal of
Communication Inquiry, 6(2), 119-129.
John Paul II. (1979). Return to Poland: The Collected Speeches of John Paul II. New
York: Collins.
29
King, S. & Cushman, D. (1992). The Role of Communication in Engineering Political,
Economic, and Social Institutions. In S. King and D. Cushman (Eds.), Political
Communication: Engineering Visions of Order in the Socialist World, (pp. 3-32).
Albany, New York: State University of New York Press.
Korbonski, A. (1983). Dissent in Poland, 1956-76. In J. Curry (Ed.), Dissent in Eastern
Europe, (pp. 25-47). New York: Praeger.
Kowalski, T. (1988). Evolution After Revolution: The Polish Press System in
Transition. Media, Culture and Society, 10(2), 183-196.
Krol, M. (1981). O 'Tezach' kilka uwag krytycznych. Tygodnik Solidarnosc, 11: 11.
Mrozowski, M. (1990). Television in Poland. Media, Culture and Society, 12, 213-229.
Nagorski, Andrew. (1993). The Birth of Freedom: Shaping Lives and Societies in the
New Eastern Europe. New York: Simon and Schuster
Oniszczuk, Z. (1990). Elements of the local information system of a metropolitan area in
Poland: An attempt at typology. Publizistik, 35(2), 205-208.
Picard, R. (1985a). Patterns of State Intervention in the Western Press. Journalism
Quarterly, 62 (Spring): 3-9.
Picard, R. (1985b). The Press and the Decline of Democracy: The Democratic Socialist
Response in Public Policy. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press.
Pisarek, W. (1991a). Mass Communication in Poland in the Eighties. Zeszyty
Prasoznawcze, 32(1-2), 206-214.
Pisarek, W. (Ed.). (1991b). Komunikowanie masowe w Polsce: lata osiemdziesiate."
[Mass communication in Poland in the Eighties]. Zeszyty Prasoznawcze, 32(1-2),
7-197.
Poland Moves. (1981). Economist (January 13), p. 31.
Smith, A. (1978). State Intervention and the Management of the Press. In J. Curran
(Ed.), The British Press: A Manifesto, (pp. 53-72). London: Macmillan.
30
Staniszkis, J. (1983). "Solidarnosc" jako zwiazek zawodowy i ruch spoleczny. In W.
Morawski (Ed.), Demokracja i gospodarka, (pp. 331-71). Warszawa:
Uniwersytet Warszawski.
Stasienski, P. (1991, February). The Role of the Journalist in Poland. University
Seminars on Communications and Society. New York: The Freedom Forum
Media Studies Center.
Szpocinski, A. (1987). Changes in Systems of Values in Polish Radio Programmes on
Historical Subjects. European Journal of Communication, 2(1), 33-52.
Urban, J. (1989). Glowne dzwignie swiadomosci. Antena, 19: 1-2.
Veronis, C. (1990, January). A free press in Poland needs help to mature. Presstime, p.
49.
Ustawa: O Radiofonii i Telewizji [Broadcasting Act] (Ustawa 34, Nr. 7). (1993).
Dziennik Ustaw Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej. Warszawa: Urzad Rady Ministrow.
Weschler, L. (1989, November 13). A Reporter at Large: A Grand Experiment. The
New Yorker, pp. 59-104.
Woycicki, K. (1991, August). Polish Publishers Pull Together to Meet Free-Press
Challenges. Presstime, p. 31.