Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 3, 1990 TAG: 9006060026
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: D-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: O. ALAN WELTZIEN
DATELINE: GDANSK, POLAND LENGTH: Long
On May Day, Poles honor workers of the world. National flags festooned street lamps and facades. In the Vistula river town of Gniew, we gathered in the square with all the locals, listening to the very amateur town band play.
But as Poland ceremoniously observes the workers' holiday, many of its workers, even by slipping U.S. standards, hardly deserve the tribute.
How soon, we foreigners wonder, will most Poles with a job understand that disciplined work pays off all around?
A friend recently told me a story about the Gdansk shipyards, where her father works. The shipyards, famous in recent Polish history, have been floundering financially for some time. A wealthy Polish-American was supposed to have bought an approximately 50 percent interest, but negotiations have stalled. Now there's talk that the government wants to create a joint-stock company. Skilled shipyard workers receive higher pay than professors, but they may loaf more than labor.
This friend's father, the first to arrive in his particular work area, punches in many time cards soon after 6 a.m. But most co-workers drift in at 7, 7:30 or later. They split up morning tea breaks with serious newspaper reading. After the lunch hour, they may investigate one problem or draft one model. Petty theft remains a constant; apparently a complete hull can be stripped clean, small pieces at a time, in a matter of several months. Sounds pretty loose inside the famous shipyards.
If this scenario is at all accurate, we can better understand the shipyards' current plight. We can be reasonably certain that its most famous employee has not held a pair of wire strippers or a soldering iron in his hands for some time. A couple of months ago, in fact, Lech Walesa held an honorary doctorate in his hands; his hometown university, celebrating its 20th anniversary, went all out to honor Dr. Walesa.
This electrician has come a long way. The famous mustache grows in gray now, and the double chin hangs more conspicuously. Walesa looks prosperous. He has turned himself into a professional politician.
There's reason to wonder if the former electrician, that manual laborer who discovered such leadership capabilities within himself, will ever again enjoy the intense national acclaim that was his in 1980 or 1983.
Not too long ago Solidarity held its second national congress in Gdansk. Hundreds of delegates met over six exhausting days in a hall under a soccer stadium about a block from my university building. For a change, many milicja (police) were conspicuous, and tight security prevented any casually interested souls from straying close.
At the end of each day, television would review Solidarity's struggle to chart its future.
Should it try to continue to function both as trade union and primary sponsor of the government of Prime Minister Tadeusz Mazowiecki, for example? During the final, 23-hour marathon session, consensus apparently emerged. Earlier, however, some dispute arose concerning the absence of certain individuals who have broken with Walesa. Delegate Walesa proved himself, unsurprisingly, an adroit tactician, and re-emerged as national chairman, obtaining about 75 percent of the vote.
As crucial a question as any for Solidarity is its degree of submergence into what some over here call "Walesa-ism." In 10 years Solidarity's membership has plunged from 10 million to 2 million.
Most Poles I talk to, colleagues and students alike, distrust if not dislike Walesa. It's no secret that Gen. Wojciech Jaruzelski will probably step down as president before his term expires, and Walesa, despite his disclaimers, has had his eye on the presidency for some time.
Many feel that the next likely president of Poland will try to exercise much more power than does the current one. If that were the case, the Walesa-Mazowiecki alliance might be endangered.
These days polls report Mazowiecki more popular than Walesa. People talk unfavorably of Walesa's consolidating power within Solidarity and squelching possible rivals. Undoubtedly he has lost some of his lustre.
The next national elections will probably not occur until sometime in 1991.
Meanwhile, the sprit of free enterprise flourishes in Gdansk. Vendors line the streets and underground pedestrian passages, and consumers crowd around them. In the warm spring, Poles buy ice cream, fill public benches, play along the beach Sopot, again line up at gas stations.
Sometimes it's hard to measure more than a 10 percent drop in real earning power during the past three months.
Recently, students at the Gdansk Polytechnic Institute went on strike for a few days to protest the possible imposition of tuition fees starting, I believe, next year.
Unemployment is on the rise, and maybe university study will no longer be a free ride for students. If they start having to pay fees, their expectations about professors and curricula may rise, too. And that might change the balance of power a bit.
Poles respect professors, even though the government does not pay them highly. Professors, at least in my experience, don't respect students much. Rather, students appear a necessary burden, an obstacle between the professor and his research.
Over here, it's still assumed the student knows little and has little of value to say. The professor, in contrast, knows all and imparts his sagacity in bits. So those empty vessels sit, usually quietly, and fill up, eventually pouring a little out in final, usually oral exams.
Students have little choice in their course of study once they've entered an institute. They take all courses. Some of my students are in class 36 hours a week - practically a full-time job apart from study hours. Books are often hard to come by and syllabi, a rarity.
Often the only form of evaluation is one exam, where the student sinks or swims in 30 minutes. It all adds up to a loose operation, a little like the Gdansk shipyards.
On the side, most students give private English lessons, as do many professors. It pays well, the going rate being 10,000 zlotych, or slightly over $1.00, an hour. In fact it's hard to moonlight and do better. Some students claim they earn more giving lessons than they will after graduation.
But to really make money, a young adult might look elsewhere. One of my favorite students recently told me she'd been granted a British visa, so like many, she might live there a while and work illegally to save for an apartment on her own.
At the moment, housing in the Gdansk area costs $300 per square meter. And there's no such thing as a down payment and payment by installments.
Imagine what it would be like to buy appliances or cars or apartments at full price, cash only. Perhaps the introduction of credit will further strain an already intensely strained housing market.
After months of study and travel, I have come to believe in my optimistic moments that Poland will gradually master its problems once its telecommunications system enters the late 20th century. If the country had enough working telephones, all things might be possible.
by CNB