Polarization Paradox: The Deepening Political Divide Threatening Unity in Poland

Every week, as Karolina gears up to step across the entrance of the Martynowska residence, she braces herself for what lies ahead. "At times, it's exhilarating," she shares. "It challenges my thinking to the core. However, I must always arm myself with patience."

The Martynowskas, consisting of Stella (69) and her two children Patrycja and Karolina (both in their 40s), represent the typical Polish family. They come together every week to enjoy pierogi or chicken soup. Patrycja resides in the same building as her mother, while Karolina lives just a few doors away. Presently, the matriarch, Stella's 97-year-old mother Stanisława, has joined them. She quietly oversees her family from the corner of the room, occasionally expressing her approval or disagreement with a soft murmur.

When generations come together nowadays, the discussion becomes bitter, vibrant, and full of emotions, and it doesn't take much time. "Politics is always what we end up talking about," Karolina remarks wearily. "Mom is ready to leave the conversation in seconds."

"She deliberately provokes us," Patrycja interjects sarcastically, while the family Yorkshire terrier jumps around at her feet. "She is determined to change our views," Karolina states. The atmosphere can become noisy, and emotions may be wounded.

The tensions within the Martynowska family mirror the tensions within Poland as a whole. Just like countless other families, they find themselves divided by different generations, caught on opposite ends of the country's deep societal divide.

Karolina, Stanisława, Patrycja and Stella Martynowska (left to right).

Rob Picheta

Poland is becoming divided as toxic politics infiltrates households across all regions of the country. Poles now inhabit distinct realities, shaped by their preferred news sources, leading to a fragmented society.

Moreover, an aggressive election campaign, possibly ending without a conclusive outcome this Sunday, has escalated public discussions to the level of outright political confrontation.

A patriotic souvenir in Stella's hallway. She says her core values are "God, honor, and motherland" -- concepts of which PiS has declared itself the defenders.

The recent regression of the Polish government on civil rights for women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and minorities, as well as the significant changes made to the judicial system and public media, has shocked Western nations. Poland, which was previously regarded as a prime example of a free market democracy among the countries that emerged from the Soviet bloc, is now seen in a different light.

But conservative Poles who vigorously oppose the acceptance of Western European social and cultural values, which PiS regards as a challenge to the nation's long-standing Catholic traditions, have found great pleasure in them. "She was once very broad-minded," Karolina says about her mother, who sits just a few feet away, divided by the opposing sides of the dining table. However, the constant exposure to the country's divisive political climate, with incessant arguments repeated every hour on state television, has gradually taken its toll on her, she explains.

"I didnt hear what you said," Stella quips in response. "But I disagree."

Karolina, positioned second from the left, mentions that her mother was previously a highly tolerant individual. However, due to the incessant presence of television and its excessive display of aggression and violence, it becomes extremely challenging to abstain from engaging in confrontations.

A nation transformed

Over the past eight years, PiS (Law and Justice) has managed to mobilize large portions of the populace by tapping into a strong sense of Polish national identity, prioritizing national security, and implementing an expansive social welfare initiative tailored to support both parents and pensioners.

Stella, speaking to CNN at her home on the outskirts of Warsaw, emphasizes the utmost significance of her values: God, honor, and motherland. She believes these values are also crucial to the PiS. However, she expresses her concern that these values are currently facing threats.

Nonetheless, the party has significantly reshaped the Polish state by gaining control over the judiciary, public media, and cultural institutions. These actions have not only sparked numerous legal battles, protests, and international disputes but have also deeply divided the Polish public. Nowadays, if you ask a Polish citizen about their stance on the government, there is little room for ambiguity; they are either in support or against it.

Poland was once looked on as the exemplar free-market democracy to have emerged from behind the Iron Curtain. Now, its democratic institutions are under siege.

Stella asserts that Law and Justice is dependable, to which Karolina insists that her statement is accurately translated. Patrycja expresses her frustration by muttering a disapproving comment.

But there is one thing, maybe just one, that the Martynowskas unanimously agree on: It was never this dreadful before.

"In the past, we never discussed politics in this manner," Stella remarks. When questioned if Polish politics is more polarized than they recall, three generations of this family burst into agreement. "Yes, without a doubt," Karolina exclaims.

Public television, which Stella acknowledges is constantly playing in her household, is a significant perpetrator. State-controlled broadcasters have, in recent years, essentially transformed into a conduit for government propaganda; their resemblance to those in Hungary and even Russia is striking, as anchors tirelessly promote the accomplishments of the ruling party. "It's like entering a different world," Karolina asserts. "It's a fairy tale! There's no inflation, no problems—only incessant success."

A defaced poster promoting a PiS candidate billows in the wind on the outskirts of Warsaw.

Rob Picheta

"This is how illiberal democracies are formed," declares Piotr Buras, the chief of the Warsaw-based European Council on Foreign Relations, as he discusses PiS divisive reforms with CNN. "Despite the democratic façade, numerous constitutional transgressions are taking place."

Donald Tusk, the leader of the Civic Coalition, delivers a speech during the March of a Million Hearts in Warsaw, Poland on October 1, 2023. The Civic Platform, led by former Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, aims to challenge the ruling Law and Justice (PiS) party in the upcoming October 15 election.

Poland's pivotal election on Sunday will have far-reaching consequences in Europe, Ukraine, and the US. Unfortunately, women and LGBTQ+ rights have been significantly curtailed. Accessing abortions in Poland has become more challenging than in most of Western Europe. Additionally, many regions have declared themselves "LGBT-free zones," which has drawn criticism from Brussels. While Stella supports these changes, aligning with the Catholic teachings that should shape the country's laws, they are creating a deeper divide between the government and younger citizens. Some young individuals even contemplate leaving the country if PiS secures another term. Patrycja voices her concern, stating that PiS is against women.

Throughout all these transformations, there has been a profound polarization that has taken firm hold. Presently, the ongoing election has pushed the country to the edge of collapse. PiS officials and state television have portrayed Donald Tusk, the opposition leader and former prime minister, as a puppet of Brussels and Berlin. In response, Tusk and his allies in the Civic Coalition (KO) have depicted PiS governance in deeply alarming terms. Lech Walesa, Poland's first democratically elected president who is supporting Tusk, recently remarked that if the ruling party loses in Sunday's vote, PiS chairman Jarosław Kaczyński should be imprisoned.

Kaczyński, Poland's de facto leader, declared in an August rally that Tusk was the "embodiment of pure evil" and should be "morally eradicated."

"It's truly an apocalyptic rhetoric," remarked Jacek Kucharczyk, president of the executive board at the Warsaw Institute of Public Affairs, when discussing the election language with CNN.

According to polls, PiS is slightly ahead of Tusk's Civic Coalition, indicating that it is unlikely for any party to secure a majority in the Sejm, Poland's lower house. Consequently, this would initiate a series of negotiations following the election, as the leading party endeavors to form a coalition in order to govern.

The country's upcoming election is described by the opposition coalition's supporters as a last chance to save Polish democracy.

Rob Picheta

Parallel universes

Regardless of the outcome of Sunday's election, it appears that the familiar elements of arguments, exaggerations, and pessimistic predictions that have become synonymous with Polish politics are likely to persist.

Expressing her unwavering support for PiS, Ewa Majewska, a 70-year-old resident of Lublin in eastern Poland, asserts, "If PiS loses, it would be catastrophic. I remain steadfast in my decision to vote for PiS since the other parties are perceived as communists aiming to subject Poland to German governance."

"Young people don't understand what real democracy is," says Ewa Majewska, a 70-year-old PiS voter. If the opposition gain power, she says, it would be "the end of the world."

In the heart of the city, just a few miles away, Igor Konior is actively working to change people's opinions. At 21 years old, he is distributing leaflets for the opposition coalition led by Tusk in a bustling square. Despite receiving dismissive glances, he remains determined and takes advantage of any opportunity when someone slows down to listen.

Changing minds in Poland is a challenging task, as Konior realizes every time he returns home. "My grandparents pose a problem," he shares. "They watch public television and parrot the same ideas propagated by the channel."

He further states that he and his grandparents lead separate lives in completely contrasting environments. "If PiS wins again, my friends are considering leaving Poland. They desire to reside in a more conventional European Union, rather than the radical one."

However, Konior is fully committed to staying here for the foreseeable future. "Having been born in this country, I am determined to remain and vigorously advocate for a return to normalcy."

According to Igor Konior, he engages in constant arguments with his grandparents on a wide array of topics. He mentions that his grandparents tend to express a significant amount of animosity, particularly towards the opposition and its leader. On the other hand, they hold a high regard for the ruling party.

In recent times, Polish politics has resembled a battle rather than a constructive discussion. Finding a way to address the profound overhaul of the country's institutions and unite Poland's stark divisions seems challenging and uncertain.

"I've never had faith in Tusk," claims Wanda, a 75-year-old resident of Lublin who supports PiS. "I struggle to even cast my gaze upon him... I try my best to avoid the screen or switch off the television when he appears," she adds. "I simply don't wish to hear him."

Lucyna Botin, an 82-year-old who intends to vote for the removal of PiS from power in Lublin on Sunday, perceives herself as an exception. "Among people in my age group, my viewpoints are not shared. Therefore, I am unable to engage in discussion with them," she explains.

A looming exodus

Aleksandra Lukasiewicz, 30, felt her country changing softly, and slowly - and then, all at once.

She described the initial years of PiS rule, highlighting the frequent modifications in laws governing permissible actions, occurring either on a weekly basis or sometimes every other day.

During a visit to central Warsaw in 2020, Lukasiewicz witnessed a distressing sight—an extensively decorated truck parading homophobia through the city streets. The truck featured a prominent billboard equating homosexuality with child sexual abuse, displaying the slogan "Stop Pedophilia" above a Pride flag that had been crossed out.

For Lukasiewicz, the campaign marked the pinnacle of years of increasing anti-LGBT discourse originating from and supported by the country's government, orchestrated by an ultra-conservative organization. Government officials have labeled LGBTQ+ individuals as abnormal and expressed concerns about the perils posed by the LGBT "ideology," which they consider a threat to the Polish state.

After several months, Lukasiewicz made the decision to leave the country. She vividly remembers telling her girlfriend, "This is our moment. We must leave now."

Aleksandra Lukasiewicz voting in the 2020 Presidential election, which was narrowly won by the PiS candidate. Lukasiewicz left the country months later.

Aleksandra Lukasiewicz

Currently residing in Rotterdam, the couple is happily engaged, a significant milestone that would not have been attainable in their homeland. Lukasiewicz, speaking to CNN over the phone from Rotterdam, aspires to return to Poland someday. However, she expresses concerns about the direction of the country's public discourse since PiS came into power, stating, "If they win again, Poland will be left with nothing."

There has been a significant increase in the number of Polish citizens emigrating due to their dissatisfaction with the current direction of their country. If PiS wins a third term, this exodus is expected to further escalate. Discussions about leaving the country are prevalent, and when speaking to an opposition supporter, the topic often quickly shifts to a list of European countries they have considered moving to.

Michal, a 68-year-old resident of outer Warsaw, shares his thoughts, "Many people, including myself, would choose to emigrate. Poland used to be part of Western Europe eight years ago, and I do not want to see it aligning towards the East."

"It's the accumulation of all these small factors that is becoming overwhelming," notes Jędrzej Kasprzyk, a student who is currently formulating his relocation strategies to Western Europe from Łódź, a city situated in central Poland. "I'm uncertain about how I will be able to persevere in Poland in the coming years."

The Martynowskas' dog, Bonita, has a ring-side seat to the family's heated arguments.

Rob Picheta

The Martynowskas are unwavering in their determination to remain in the country that has been home to their family for more than a hundred years. However, they find themselves deeply conflicted about its history, its current state, and what lies ahead.

Pointing to her children, Stella expresses, "They were fortunate to be born in prosperous times. As for me, I came into this world after the war, living with six individuals in a single room, without access to a toilet."

Various contentious PiS policies are discussed, raising concerns and anxieties about the future of Poland after the election. Patrycja expresses her mother's intense emotions on the matter.

However, there is a momentary pause in the conversation as Karolina surprisingly acknowledges that the world will continue to move forward regardless of the election outcome, showing unusual pragmatism.

But for her, and for millions of Poles, something has changed since Polands first decades of freedom. "Being European, being part of a bigger society, was lost," she says.