We tell ourselves that there is nothing more Polish than freedom of speech. It's a beautiful myth and nothing else. The tradition of freedom of expression is zero in Poland.
Censorship in our country has as long a history as printing. King Zygmunt the Old - otherwise known as a patron of culture and a promoter of the Renaissance - had illegitimate books burned at the stake. His son, Zygmunt August, ruthlessly fought with anyone who dared in writing criticize him or the royal wife, Barbara Radziwiłłówna. You could even lose your life for spreading information that is inconsistent with the ruling line.
Successive monarchs by no means loosened the bolt. During the time of Stanisław August Poniatowski, piles of books were burning on the market square in Warsaw. The last one in 1785.
A role model for Democrats
During the partitions, censorship only grew stronger, taking its toll on freedom fighters. The blotting paper, i.e. the secret press, was produced by both the future head of state, Józef Piłsudski, and the president - Stanisław Wojciechowski. For this practice, it was easy to go to prison or even to Siberia. However, the distribution of tissue paper was considered a form of resistance to authority. And the highest expression of patriotism.
Burning books on piles happened not only in Germany. They were also practiced in Poland for centuries.
This was the case, at least, until 1918. It was enough that the former libertarians seized power, and instead of dismantling the censorship - they took over its tools for their own needs.
Between theory and practice
The theory was fine. Article 105 of the 1921 constitution ensured freedom of expression for citizens and excluded the use of preventive censorship by the authorities. Every citizen of the country had the right to write whatever he liked, as long as he was ready to defend his words to the court. However, the daily practice has developed quite differently.
In theory, the constitution of March 17, 1921 ensured freedom of speech for Poles. The reality, however, was not all that rosy (source:public domain).
Private press publishers were required to submit a control copy to the appropriate office before the issue of the journal was released. On this basis, the staroste or the prosecutor could apply for "temporary confiscation" of the effort. The independent court agreed to this or rejected the application. According to a specialist in the history of censorship, prof. Andrzej Paczkowski, "the legal mechanism complied with democratic standards" .
There was only one problem. The police never waited for a formal settlement. Printed copies were confiscated immediately. For publishers, especially daily magazines, it meant huge financial losses. Even if the court allowed the reimbursement of the print run after a few weeks, the editors could only grind it. No one compensated her for the cost of printing, lost sales profits, and damaged readers' trust. Some magazines have been confiscated dozens or even hundreds of times . Faced with the threat of bankruptcy, the publishers changed their tactics.
The art of survival… and conformism
They voluntarily began to submit copies of letters for approval. If a specific paragraph or article was rejected by censors, a blank spot would appear in its place, and the entire issue went to print anyway. In the course of high-profile lawsuits or political scandals, columns and pages could disappear from the mainstream magazines. Sometimes even the headlines appeared in the form of a white spot, and the readers were left to guess what was the reason for the increased caution of the authorities.
Most often it was about party games, but the spicy details of the life of a famous person could also irritate the censors. Above all, however, the entire control system was a hellishly effective lesson in conformism for the Polish journalistic milieu. For the sake of peace, high-circulation magazines imposed self-censorship on themselves. The effects falsify the pre-war reality to this day.
White spot in place of a confiscated article in one of the issues of the socialist "Robotnik".
Looking through the issues of "Ilustrowany Kuryer Codzienny", "Dziennik Poznański" or even tabloids like "Express Poranny", one gets the impression that Poland was a country in ruins, which was saved at the last moment by the only right party. And it is, of course, a party composed of flawlessly honest statesmen.
In return for presenting such a vision, the heads of media corporations received state advertisements, jobs, and even places on the election lists. They quickly realized that free media simply did not pay off.
Source:
The article was based on the materials collected by the author while working on the books "Ladies of the Golden Age" (Znak Horyzont 2014), "Epoka hypocrisy. Sex and erotica in pre-war Poland ”(CiekawostkiHistoryczne.pl 2015) and“ Fallen ladies of the Second Republic of Poland ”(Znak 2013). Andrzej Paczkowski's quote comes from the work "Knots of memory of independent Poland" (Znak 2014).
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The above column also appeared in the latest issue of the "Focus Historia" magazine (2/2016).