Solidarity

Solidarity. The name itself inspires hope. Hope is certainly the best word to describe the feelings of many as we have watched, over these many months, the growth of a people's movement in Poland. Solidarity is a union. It is ironic but not surprising that a union should present this communist state with its most serious challenge. The best unions, like the best churches, are always a challenge to their governments. In fact, when unions and churches no longer pose threats to illegitimate power, or begin to wield that power themselves, something is wrong.

But something was right in Poland, and it sent shock waves of inspiration around the world. Who would dare oppose the Polish state with its rigid bureaucracy, huge military, and strict party line in the shadow of the Russian giant towering at the border?

But Goliath met David, and his name was Solidarity. Starting with ordinary people, the urban workers first and then the farmers, the union grew as fast as the aspirations of the Polish people for human dignity, a better life, and the right to participate in the decisions that affected them.

It's an old story. Try as they might, governments can never quite keep down the spirit of freedom, at least not forever. Poland's time had come.

The Roman Catholic Church in Poland had been the most independent force in the country powerful influence in the lives of the people. It stood as a buffer between the state and the people, serving as their advocate and defender.

Then came Solidarity, and the people were organized. Deep grievances, new hopes, and shrewd tactics became a powerful mix that ignited and swept through the country like a prairie fire. In a Marxist state, millions joined a union and, with the support of the church, stood against the government. Solidarity grew to a nonviolent mass movement employing the time-tested tactics of popular organization, political education, massive refusal, work stoppage, collective bargaining, and general strike. The Warsaw government was confused and indecisive; the party stumbled and faltered. The Russians frowned, likewise perplexed. How do you stop a grassroots movement? Could Soviet tanks run a country if the people refused to cooperate?

Almost every week, Solidarity had new successes: demands met, settlements achieved, government decisions effectively resisted or reversed, local officials and party leaders toppled, patterns of decision-making opened. The direction of it all became increasingly clear. Finally, Solidarity went all the way by calling for a national referendum on the possibility of a non-communist government and questioning Poland's relationship to the Soviet Union. These things the powers could not abide.

On Saturday, December 12, the military took control. Martial law was imposed, and within days the entire infrastructure of Solidarity's leadership was arrested. Some reports say that 40,000 people have been imprisoned. Tanks and soldiers are on every street corner, and great shows of force have occurred at the shipyards, steel works, and factories where the union has been the strongest.

Information is still hard to come by. I find myself turning on the radio each morning, waiting to hear more, waiting for some hopeful sign. Throughout the first week of martial law, one question turned over and over in my mind. Where was Walesa? Where was the mustached plumber with the piercing eyes, easy smile, and clear voice who led Solidarity? First, the news was that the government forces had him and were trying to negotiate with him. Apparently they wanted his cooperation. They didn't get it. For days there was no word. Then a report came one morning in a simple sentence: "The military authorities say that Lech Walesa is broken and weeping." Broken and weeping. How they must have taken pleasure in announcing it.

The situation remains unclear. The pope has sent two envoys to the Polish church to find out what is happening. New word today is of a letter from Walesa, under arrest and hidden away, calling for passive resistance from the Polish people and asking for the church's help. Every day more are arrested; all overt opposition is quickly crushed. Some have been killed in clashes with the military, and the government claims total control. General Wojciech Jaruzelski sent a birthday greeting to Leonid Brezhnev and assured him of Poland's complete loyalty to the Soviet Union.

The pain of Poland's agony was only worsened by the self-righteous pronouncements of our own government. Reagan and Haig indignantly assail the Polish government and its Russian supporters for imposing martial law, suppressing unions, crushing freedom, flagrantly disregarding due process of law, and denying human rights. The Soviets, behind it all, are angrily accused of intervening in the affairs of another country. How dare they impose their will on another people through the brutality of a client regime that couldn't exist without their support?

The gospel says, "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye" (Luke 6:41-42).

The people of El Salvador weep with the people of Poland, as do the poor of Guatemala, South Korea, the Philippines, Chile, Argentina, and every other place where military rule has been imposed, human rights trampled, people imprisoned, tortured, and killed, all with the support of the United States government--first cousin to the Soviet Union.

The Soviet Union's loyal regime in Warsaw is our military junta in San Salvador. Their General Jaruzelski is our General Garcia. The Soviets are responsible for crushed freedom in Poland, but we are responsible for murdered peasants and priests in El Salvador.

The Soviets have blamed their Polish troubles on the American CIA, which makes about as much sense as U.S. charges of Soviet intervention in Central America. And they are mightily indignant about American imperialism while they preside over the destruction of freedom in Poland and Afghanistan.

I have a hard time believing that the U.S. government really cares any more for the Poles than it does for the Salvadorans, or that the Soviet regime is any more seriously concerned about Central American campesinos than about Polish farmers or Afghan villagers. But Christians must care about them all.

We can expect the superpowers to slaughter the innocents then attack each other for doing so. But we must refuse to take sides in this horrible and deadly hypocrisy. The innocents cry out in Polish, Spanish, and every other language. The Herods never hear. But we do, and we must listen with our whole hearts.

Jim Wallis was editor-in-chief of Sojourners when this article appeared.