Compromised
After charging at the enemy, these Iranian nomads would suddenly turn back and ride away at full speed, while shooting arrows over their shoulders. This earned them admiration in antiquity for their horse riding skills, but also the, probably unfair, reputation of cowards.
Interestingly, Leszek Miller, who is still the prime minister of this country, seems to have learnt a lesson or two from ancient history. Just a day before promising to step down on May 2, the day after the country's accession to the European Union, he fired a Parthian shot, by saying that the country was "ready to accept a compromise based on the double majority voting" system. After all those fiery speeches, after a parliamentary debate that provided the Civic Platform (PO) leader Jan Rokita with a platform to make his famous "Nice or death" statement, the outgoing prime minister quietly agreed to a compromise that envisages the country completely accepting the Franco-German position it had vowed to fight against tooth and nail.
A compromise was, as Miller had rightly put it, "not only necessary, but also possible." Maybe, but was it necessary for the compromise to be indistinguishable from unconditional surrender? Ah, but that is what life in Brussels is all about, we are told, just look at the Spaniards who have mastered to perfection the art of insisting and then giving in at an opportune moment in return for concessions elsewhere. But what are we getting in return? Perhaps there is something, perhaps life in Brussels requires not just skilful retreats, but also a certain amount of secrecy about the real price of those retreats. Perhaps, but a nasty suspicion persists that, once again, Leszek Miller had promised something, namely that he would not give in on voting rights, but didn't actually even try to deliver.
That is what politicians everywhere do, or so goes the conventional wisdom. True again, probably, though they are perhaps not always so shameless about it. Moreover, there is further suspicion that Miller has sought to deliver a blow to his successor even before that successor has been named. It will be the next cabinet's job to announce the actual terms of the compromise to the outraged parliament, and to the nation.
But what is the point of discussing Leszek Miller? Just a month ago, he seemed immortal, holding on to the leadership of his party and the government after surviving a serious air crash and a slump in his party's support from 40 percent to less than 10 percent. His political career is now over. He joins his former deputy and former finance minister, Grzegorz Kołodko, and former health minister, Mariusz Łapiński, in the cabinet of has-beens that the SLD's three years in power have created. But, if Kołodko can still hope to revive his career with the help of Andrzej Lepper, who has long been an admirer of the most irresponsible finance minister in the country's democratic history, not even the Self-defense (Samoobrona) leader is likely to extend a helpful hand to Miller. There is no way back for the man; the best he can hope for is a cosy position within the ranks of the SLD. A party aparatchik he was born and a party aparatchik he will die.
"The king is dead, long live the king," joked Lew Rywin, the defendant in the corruption trial that is nearing its conclusion, referring to his former chum and alleged instigator in the corruptive conspiracy that he mentioned in making his proposition to Agora.
The identity of the king is now probably known. President Aleksander Kwaśniewski, whose constitutional prerogative it is to nominate the next prime minister, has named Marek Belka, the first finance minister in Leszek Miller's cabinet, as "the best candidate." He later said that, should Belka not obtain parliament's support on May 2, early elections would be inevitable.
Of course, that threat never fails to work. There are enough deputies, many of them with criminal records, who have either been thrown out of their parties, or have such abysmal records that their re-election is not even a remote possibility. Some of them have even formed their own party, the Federated Parliamentary Caucus (FKP), which has already come out in support of Belka's candidacy. These deputies are so scared of the prospect of joblessness (for how do you find a job when you are no good at anything, including politics?) that early elections always make them vote with the government.
A clever ploy has, however, been devised to remove this powerful instrument of control over the unruly parliament. Those former deputies who cannot find a job after the end of their parliamentary career will get a pension. Not everyone is enthusiastic about the idea of paying people till the end of their lives for doing their jobs badly, but if this is the only way of getting them out of parliament, then this writer at least gives his wholehearted support for the motion.
Interestingly, Leszek Miller, who is still the prime minister of this country, seems to have learnt a lesson or two from ancient history. Just a day before promising to step down on May 2, the day after the country's accession to the European Union, he fired a Parthian shot, by saying that the country was "ready to accept a compromise based on the double majority voting" system. After all those fiery speeches, after a parliamentary debate that provided the Civic Platform (PO) leader Jan Rokita with a platform to make his famous "Nice or death" statement, the outgoing prime minister quietly agreed to a compromise that envisages the country completely accepting the Franco-German position it had vowed to fight against tooth and nail.
A compromise was, as Miller had rightly put it, "not only necessary, but also possible." Maybe, but was it necessary for the compromise to be indistinguishable from unconditional surrender? Ah, but that is what life in Brussels is all about, we are told, just look at the Spaniards who have mastered to perfection the art of insisting and then giving in at an opportune moment in return for concessions elsewhere. But what are we getting in return? Perhaps there is something, perhaps life in Brussels requires not just skilful retreats, but also a certain amount of secrecy about the real price of those retreats. Perhaps, but a nasty suspicion persists that, once again, Leszek Miller had promised something, namely that he would not give in on voting rights, but didn't actually even try to deliver.
That is what politicians everywhere do, or so goes the conventional wisdom. True again, probably, though they are perhaps not always so shameless about it. Moreover, there is further suspicion that Miller has sought to deliver a blow to his successor even before that successor has been named. It will be the next cabinet's job to announce the actual terms of the compromise to the outraged parliament, and to the nation.
But what is the point of discussing Leszek Miller? Just a month ago, he seemed immortal, holding on to the leadership of his party and the government after surviving a serious air crash and a slump in his party's support from 40 percent to less than 10 percent. His political career is now over. He joins his former deputy and former finance minister, Grzegorz Kołodko, and former health minister, Mariusz Łapiński, in the cabinet of has-beens that the SLD's three years in power have created. But, if Kołodko can still hope to revive his career with the help of Andrzej Lepper, who has long been an admirer of the most irresponsible finance minister in the country's democratic history, not even the Self-defense (Samoobrona) leader is likely to extend a helpful hand to Miller. There is no way back for the man; the best he can hope for is a cosy position within the ranks of the SLD. A party aparatchik he was born and a party aparatchik he will die.
"The king is dead, long live the king," joked Lew Rywin, the defendant in the corruption trial that is nearing its conclusion, referring to his former chum and alleged instigator in the corruptive conspiracy that he mentioned in making his proposition to Agora.
The identity of the king is now probably known. President Aleksander Kwaśniewski, whose constitutional prerogative it is to nominate the next prime minister, has named Marek Belka, the first finance minister in Leszek Miller's cabinet, as "the best candidate." He later said that, should Belka not obtain parliament's support on May 2, early elections would be inevitable.
Of course, that threat never fails to work. There are enough deputies, many of them with criminal records, who have either been thrown out of their parties, or have such abysmal records that their re-election is not even a remote possibility. Some of them have even formed their own party, the Federated Parliamentary Caucus (FKP), which has already come out in support of Belka's candidacy. These deputies are so scared of the prospect of joblessness (for how do you find a job when you are no good at anything, including politics?) that early elections always make them vote with the government.
A clever ploy has, however, been devised to remove this powerful instrument of control over the unruly parliament. Those former deputies who cannot find a job after the end of their parliamentary career will get a pension. Not everyone is enthusiastic about the idea of paying people till the end of their lives for doing their jobs badly, but if this is the only way of getting them out of parliament, then this writer at least gives his wholehearted support for the motion.
