Social resistance to communism persisted in Poland – manifesting in various forms – throughout almost the entire half-century of the Polish People’s Republic (PRL). Guerrilla warfare in the immediate post-war years, workers’ strikes and demonstrations, peasant resistance against collectivization, the defense of Catholic rights and the Church’s independence, as well as student and intellectual protests – all these factors blunted the totalitarian edge of the system, preventing the Polish United Workers’ Party (PZPR) from fully subordinating social life. However, this resistance remained fragmented and did not constitute a coherent political alternative. The communist authorities systematically eradicated such alternatives at their inception, relying on the principle of a triple monopoly – over organization, information, and political representation. The establishment of the Workers’ Defense Committee (Komitet Obrony Robotników – KOR) in 1976, an openly anti-regime group, disrupted this monopoly. The movement that emerged around KOR challenged the PZPR’s claim to represent national interests, countered the omnipotence of the single-party state with the concept of self-organization, and undermined state-controlled mass propaganda through independent publishing beyond the reach of censorship.
KOR’s brief yet eventful and programmatically significant history remains relatively unknown, both in Poland and abroad. The story of a handful of rebellious intellectuals who dared to live as free people in an enslaved country offers a compelling lesson in civic engagement, prioritizing public affairs over personal comfort and uniting diverse ideological backgrounds in pursuit of fundamental values and objectives. The members of KOR were divided by historical experiences, political leanings, and visions for the future. However, they were united by the conviction that the most effective means of resisting dictatorship was social solidarity and the establishment of independent institutions: self-defense committees, underground magazines and publishing houses, free self-education, and free trade unions. At the time, their contemporaries often regarded them as impractical dreamers and political romantics. However, their assertion that communism could be resisted using nothing more than a primitive mimeograph and the Declaration of Human Rights proved to be correct.
The natural chronological scope of this book spans the years 1976–1981, during which the Workers’ Defense Committee, later renamed the Committee for Social Self-Defense KOR (KSS KOR), was active. I precede this historical account with an analysis of the independent circles and events that constituted the genesis of the Committee. The introductory chapters also explore the evolution of democratic opposition thought, culminating in the strategic approach implemented in 1976. The principles of this strategy, the dilemmas arising from its execution, and the broader consequences of developing the Polish model of social resistance to communism are examined in subsequent chapters.
I treat KOR and KSS KOR as a single institution, in which continuity of personnel and program is evident. Despite internal conflicts and disputes that grew as KOR evolved – from a committee coordinating aid for workers into a center of opposition activities – the fundamental goals remained shared among its participants. The aspiration for an independent and democratic Poland defined the movement’s long-term objectives. In the realm of everyday opposition activity, this translated into the arduous task of constructing enclaves of freedom. In the monocentric order of real socialism, these enclaves sowed the seeds of pluralism. The history of KOR is, fundamentally, the history of the struggle to sustain these islands of independence within a PRL dominated by the ruling party.
The critical questions – whether it was possible to instill widespread civic solidarity in opposition to state power, whether the seeds of political nonconformism could disrupt a state-dominated society, and whether a mass movement for democratic reform could emerge under communism – were definitively answered in 1980, when Solidarity Union was born.
Although other opposition factions played a similar role, this book focuses specifically on the history of the KOR movement. Other groups are discussed only in the context of their interactions with KSS KOR. The KOR movement itself functioned as a federation of many initiatives. In addition to the Committee itself, it encompassed separate institutions such as Biuletyn Informacyjny, Robotnik, Głos, Krytyka, and other underground magazines; the Independent Publishing House (NOWA) and other independent publishers; the Student Solidarity Committees (SKS); the Society for Scholarly Courses (TKN); and the Free Trade Unions (WZZ). Each of these institutions warrants a dedicated monograph. My work examines their activities insofar as they contributed to the realization of KSS KOR’s program and involved members of the KOR movement.
The subject of this book – like its historical focus – is the opposition movement. The actions undertaken against opposition members by the communist secret political police, the Security Service (SB), are treated as secondary. I primarily use SB documents as supplementary sources of information about the opposition’s activities. Details of police operations, the role of SB informants, and the actions of the prosecutor’s office, among others, do not constitute the core of my research. Contrary to some hypotheses, the communist security apparatus had little influence on the direction and strategies of KOR. Despite possessing extensive intelligence on regime opponents, the police generally acted reactively and played a minimal role in shaping major events or decisions. The same, with certain caveats, can be said about the PZPR leadership’s policies toward independent circles and initiatives, which I address in broad terms.
I personally witnessed the era covered by this book. As a student of history at the University of Warsaw in the late 1970s, I participated – albeit modestly – in some opposition activities. My encounters with KOR members remain among the most formative experiences of my life. Consequently, I do not claim neutrality, nor do I maintain the same distance from figures such as Adam Michnik, Jacek Kuroń, or Jan Józef Lipski as I do from representatives of the ruling camp. The truth does not lie “somewhere in the middle” – as a historian Władysław Bartoszewski said, the truth lies where it lies. At that time, truth and justice stood with those who opposed the dictatorship of the Polish United Workers’ Party, not with those who actively or passively sustained it.
In accordance with the principles of historical scholarship, I seek to recount the story of this group of individuals who defied communism – despite the warnings of realists and the calculations of opportunists. The seemingly Sisyphean labor of KOR was driven more by moral instinct than by political pragmatism. Bohdan Cywiński, author of The Genealogies of the Rebellious, a foundational book for the younger generation of KOR activists, and himself a participant in the democratic opposition, recalls those years:
Politics always seemed repugnant to us, and the world appeared increasingly surreal. The system was supposedly totalitarian, yet successive opposition initiatives were successful, and the authorities’ attempts to suppress them were clumsy and ineffective. The balance of power between the authorities and society, though still overwhelmingly unfavorable, was slowly shifting in an optimistic direction. […] In a few years, we would witness a pinnacle of surrealism when Wojtyła, a Pole, became the new pope. By then, almost everyone had understood that political realism did not exist. Improbable things happen. The Polish opposition of the 1970s had embraced this idea earlier. We believed that history could be nudged forward – against politics. Even if only a little, even if only by a few steps. Perhaps we were right.1
The conviction that one could oppose communism solely through civil courage and solidarity – foundational principles of the democratic opposition – was far removed from political realism. It was rooted in the Polish romantic tradition, which rejected political procrastination and demanded active defense of imponderables. Three years before the establishment of the Workers’ Defense Committee, Adam Michnik wrote:
A nation living in captivity cannot consist exclusively of heroic conspirators. It must have its ‘organizers’ – builders of factories and bridges, school teachers, doctors, and even administrators who are conciliatory toward the invader. However, woe to such a nation that regards its conspirators as naïve youths or denationalized demagogues, that sees foreign inspiration or foreign funding in the best of its people, that surrenders the governance of souls to these reasonable conformists who claim that their personal cause is identical to the Polish cause – such a nation is bound to self-destruction. […] A nation without imponderables, a nation that renounces the defense of what is sometimes elusive and difficult to name, ultimately forfeits its culture and descends to the level of a mere tribe. Realism and compromise are virtues in politicians, but these virtues must be scrutinized. They embody the spirit of Wallenrodism – pretending to be something one is not, concealing one’s true identity and aspirations.2
The strategy of feigning belief in the officially proclaimed goals of the system and passively complying with the regime’s directives – adopted by the silent majority – was countered by the democratic opposition with the principle of “living in truth.” Václav Havel, a leading Czechoslovak dissident, described this stance in his renowned essay The Power of the Powerless, published in Krytyka, an underground journal edited by KOR members:
It can be anything through which an individual or a group rebel against manipulation: from a letter by intellectuals to a workers’ strike, from a rock concert to a student demonstration, from refusing to participate in an electoral farce to delivering an open speech at an official congress, or even a hunger strike.
The rejection of ideological falsities and everyday opportunism had revolutionary consequences. Just as the cry “The emperor has no clothes!” exposed the theatrical rituals of communist propaganda, it also unveiled the deception and violence concealed behind the facade of “people’s democracies.” The attitude of “living in truth,” though initially embraced by only a few, had a contagious effect because it resonated with the moral potential latent in society at large.
The power of this approach cannot be measured by the number of its adherents, voters, or soldiers, for its battleground is the “fifth column” of social consciousness – the suppressed yearning for dignity, the realization of fundamental rights, and genuine social and political interests. This force does not engage in direct struggles for power; rather, it operates within the nebulous domain of human subordination. However, the subtle shifts it induces can – though it is impossible to predict when, where, or to what extent – manifest as tangible political acts or events, social movements, spontaneous expressions of public discontent, sharp internal conflicts within an ostensibly monolithic power structure, or an irreversible transformation of the social and psychological climate.3
The vision articulated by the Czech writer and moralist – from whom I borrow the title of this book – became a reality in Poland. From the perspective of political realism, openly opposing the communist dictatorship was sheer madness. Yet, it succeeded. This story, improbable as it may seem, is true. And that is why it is worth telling.