At least God can cope
Acting Prime Minister Marek Belka won plaudits from Jacek Piechota, his former colleague in Leszek Miller's cabinet, as "a brilliant macroeconomist, but somewhat less of a skillful politician." If Piechota's evaluation is right, then the opposition may have a fairly good point when it comes to the country's negotiating position at the Brussels summit of European leaders, which approved the new constitutional treaty on Saturday, June 18.
As expected, the government was forced to compromise on all the points it had insisted were non-negotiable. Indeed, the compromise looked suspiciously like a surrender. But this is hardly surprising. All the saber rattling over the majority voting system approved in Nice was bound to end in a retreat, especially after the Spanish government of Jose Maria Aznar, the country's staunchest ally on the issue, was replaced with a pro-French socialist cabinet.
Still, the fact that the country was represented in Brussels by a stand-in prime minister, thought unlikely to pass the final test of a parliamentary vote scheduled within a week of the summit, did not bode well for the government's negotiating position. For the previous round of constitutional talks, the country sent an ailing prime minister who had just left hospital after a serious spine injury sustained in a helicopter crash. For this round, the opposition said, our representative was even more crippled, lacking political support in parliament, popular approval and legal legitimacy. On top of that, Piechota's remark would seem to suggest, he also lacked the diplomatic skills necessary for the country to save face in tough negotiations.
Sadly, Belka appeared to confirm these fears after the outcome of the talks had been announced. Grilled by the press about the exclusion of any mention of God or Christianity in the constitution's preamble, supposedly the country's condition sine qua non, Belka seemed rather relaxed about the whole thing.
"You know what," he said at a televised press conference, "I just think that Christianity can cope with it. God can cope with it. What's the big deal?" There is a lot to what he said. That secularist France would agree to the religious reference in the constitution was unlikely from the start and, anyway, most European nations were dead set against it. And, at a time of growing tensions between the developed world and the billion or so Muslims who feel excluded from the unprecedented prosperity that the mostly Christian rich countries enjoy, the French were almost certainly right on this particular point.
It is touching, though, to see that a ruling party politician is such a staunch believer in the strength of the Catholic faith. So humble of him to think that his actions cannot hurt the Almighty. Perhaps his words were really a tribute to the 'one true faith'? After all, his boss, President Aleksander Kwaśniewski, once memorably said in response to the question of whether he was Catholic: "I have not been graced with the gift of faith." So touching. So clever. What's the big deal, indeed?
Well, the big deal is that the government and all the politicians had been so insistent on the God and/or Christianity mention in the con-stitution. Marek Belka failed to realize that millions of voters would be somewhat upset by the government's backtracking on its supposedly firm stance. Moreover, he was speaking just minutes after the Pope himself had released a statement expressing his sadness at the shape of the preamble. To sadden John Paul II is a big deal in Polish politics. Offending the electorate just days before your government comes up for a vote of confidence is never a good idea, either. The prime minister-in-waiting, it seems, should have been a little more tactful.
That he has proven otherwise is in itself understandable. Having grown up as a politician among the Democratic Left Alliance (SLD) leadership, he may have come to realize that the electorate can be lied to and insulted at will: the alternative is no better and they will vote for 'us and the boys' anyway. But by now, with Samoobrona (Self-Defense) and the League of Polish Families (LPR) rising to unprecedented heights in the polls, the SLD should have caught on to the new realities. Obviously, they have not.
Belka is widely seen as a man of the left and has even been accused of working for the secret services under communism. Most people think the accusations are false, but his words give pause for thought. Perhaps, after all, he is an agent, only not for the communist secret service but for the religious right. Roman Giertych, the leader of the LPR, could barely contain his joy at Belka's remark. Coming as it did just a week after the LPR's unexpected success in the European parliamentary elections, and only two weeks after the party called for impeachment proceedings against the president, Belka has now handed the LPR another propaganda coup on a golden plate.
Giertych was visibly pleased as he accused Belka and the SLD of betraying the national interest. Weighty historical comparisons were flying all over the place, and even John Kerry's "Benedict Arnold CEOs" suddenly looked tame when set by the side of Giertych's diatribes.
As expected, the government was forced to compromise on all the points it had insisted were non-negotiable. Indeed, the compromise looked suspiciously like a surrender. But this is hardly surprising. All the saber rattling over the majority voting system approved in Nice was bound to end in a retreat, especially after the Spanish government of Jose Maria Aznar, the country's staunchest ally on the issue, was replaced with a pro-French socialist cabinet.
Still, the fact that the country was represented in Brussels by a stand-in prime minister, thought unlikely to pass the final test of a parliamentary vote scheduled within a week of the summit, did not bode well for the government's negotiating position. For the previous round of constitutional talks, the country sent an ailing prime minister who had just left hospital after a serious spine injury sustained in a helicopter crash. For this round, the opposition said, our representative was even more crippled, lacking political support in parliament, popular approval and legal legitimacy. On top of that, Piechota's remark would seem to suggest, he also lacked the diplomatic skills necessary for the country to save face in tough negotiations.
Sadly, Belka appeared to confirm these fears after the outcome of the talks had been announced. Grilled by the press about the exclusion of any mention of God or Christianity in the constitution's preamble, supposedly the country's condition sine qua non, Belka seemed rather relaxed about the whole thing.
"You know what," he said at a televised press conference, "I just think that Christianity can cope with it. God can cope with it. What's the big deal?" There is a lot to what he said. That secularist France would agree to the religious reference in the constitution was unlikely from the start and, anyway, most European nations were dead set against it. And, at a time of growing tensions between the developed world and the billion or so Muslims who feel excluded from the unprecedented prosperity that the mostly Christian rich countries enjoy, the French were almost certainly right on this particular point.
It is touching, though, to see that a ruling party politician is such a staunch believer in the strength of the Catholic faith. So humble of him to think that his actions cannot hurt the Almighty. Perhaps his words were really a tribute to the 'one true faith'? After all, his boss, President Aleksander Kwaśniewski, once memorably said in response to the question of whether he was Catholic: "I have not been graced with the gift of faith." So touching. So clever. What's the big deal, indeed?
Well, the big deal is that the government and all the politicians had been so insistent on the God and/or Christianity mention in the con-stitution. Marek Belka failed to realize that millions of voters would be somewhat upset by the government's backtracking on its supposedly firm stance. Moreover, he was speaking just minutes after the Pope himself had released a statement expressing his sadness at the shape of the preamble. To sadden John Paul II is a big deal in Polish politics. Offending the electorate just days before your government comes up for a vote of confidence is never a good idea, either. The prime minister-in-waiting, it seems, should have been a little more tactful.
That he has proven otherwise is in itself understandable. Having grown up as a politician among the Democratic Left Alliance (SLD) leadership, he may have come to realize that the electorate can be lied to and insulted at will: the alternative is no better and they will vote for 'us and the boys' anyway. But by now, with Samoobrona (Self-Defense) and the League of Polish Families (LPR) rising to unprecedented heights in the polls, the SLD should have caught on to the new realities. Obviously, they have not.
Belka is widely seen as a man of the left and has even been accused of working for the secret services under communism. Most people think the accusations are false, but his words give pause for thought. Perhaps, after all, he is an agent, only not for the communist secret service but for the religious right. Roman Giertych, the leader of the LPR, could barely contain his joy at Belka's remark. Coming as it did just a week after the LPR's unexpected success in the European parliamentary elections, and only two weeks after the party called for impeachment proceedings against the president, Belka has now handed the LPR another propaganda coup on a golden plate.
Giertych was visibly pleased as he accused Belka and the SLD of betraying the national interest. Weighty historical comparisons were flying all over the place, and even John Kerry's "Benedict Arnold CEOs" suddenly looked tame when set by the side of Giertych's diatribes.
