THE SOLIDARITY DECADE 499Jaruzelski, who had earlier introduced a State Tribunal for investigating former
Party leaders, posed as the improbable champion of justice. Even so, a major
shift had now occurred. The system was visibly cracking. The Communists'
posture of infallibility had been abandoned. Henceforth, no servant of the
regime could be sure that the Party's shield of immunity was intact. A criminal
regime had admitted to a crime, and not just to errors or to 'socially inappro-
priate measures'. What is more, Western governments grew less timid. A visit-
ing British minister laid a wreath on Father Popieluszko's grave, thereby
signalling where the sympathies of the outside world lay. When Mrs Thatcher
eventually visited Gdansk in 1988, she was mobbed.
The Popieluszko affair in Warsaw coincided with the emergence of Gorbachev
in Moscow. Over the following months and years, the two developments
interacted. As the Cold War was gradually eased abroad, the justification for
Communist dictatorship dissolved at home. As the Soviet General Secretary
increasingly encouraged glasnost, the old practice of stifling discussion could no
longer be upheld. First in the ranks of the ruling party and then in society at large,
the inevitability of far-reaching reform became more and more apparent.
In the 1980s, the Roman Catholic Church in Poland attained a status of
unparalleled respect. It was truly the shepherd of the nation, protecting all man-
ner of people, including non-Catholics, and resisting all official attempts to curb
its influence. It gained enormously in stature from the Pope's two visits in 1979
and 1983 and from the readiness of the Solidarity priests to suffer for the cause.
A network of parishes led by indomitable clerics offered refuge to all and
sundry, patronized cultural events that could not be staged in official places, and
resolutely preached the doctrines of non-violence and 'spiritual mastery'. The
heroes were legion, but, apart from Father Popieluszko, it would not be amiss
to pick out the parishes of Podkowa Lesna near Warsaw, of Stalowa Wola, and
of Mistrzejowice near Cracow. The programme of modern church-building
begun in the 1970s was continued in times of the greatest economic distress,
thereby giving physical witness in almost every town and village to the Church's
contemporary vigour.
It would not be unfair to point out that the Church hierarchy was less resolute
than the grass roots. The new Polish Primate, Archbishop Glemp, was fearful of
losing the partnership established by his predecessor with the ruling Party, and
often appeared to vacillate. Something less than wholehearted support was
extended to some of the junior priests in political trouble. Even so, as an institution,
the Church remained rock solid in its determination to propagate an alternative
vision of the nation's future. And the Primate's Council of mixed clerical and lay-
composition consistently acted as the most powerful forum of mediation.
Polish literature of the 1980s saw few new works of substance. The most
respected names, such as those of the poet Zbigniew Herbert or Tadeusz
Konwicki, had made their reputations earlier. Konwicki's searing novel Mala
Apokalipsa (The Little Apocalypse, 1979) was the last major publication
to appear before martial law. By describing a fictional scenario of social and