"Good literature is neither right-wing nor left-wing. It's simply supposed to be good, and it should be under the protection of the state like the army, the police or the family." This is what Dr Józef Maria Ruszar, recently appointed by the Minister of Culture Piotr Gliński as director of the Institute of Literature said on air in January 2019 on WNET, a radio station associated with the Polish right-wing. In this way Ruszar fended off the charges made by "Gazeta Wyborcza" – the leading Polish left-liberal daily newspaper – that the newly created institution will primarily promote writers with conservative views.
And certainly opinions that the basic criterion for evaluating art should be its quality, and not its ideological or political affiliation, appear from time to time, here and there. The point is, I don't think anyone believes in them anymore. Stephen King, who discovered this unequivocally, recently shared a reflection in the context of the Oscars. His tweet caused a tsunami wave of criticism, sometimes indistinguishable from hate, which the author of the cultic "The Shining" – a self-declared supporter of the Democratic Party and enemy of Donald Trump himself – probably won't forget for a long time. In Poland, keeping in mind the relative proportions, the situation is quite similar, and the dispute over the Institute of Literature is it’s the best expression.
Although it is true that the left is most likely to make demands for the programmatic politicization of literature – this is where "Krytyka Polityczna", which is the left's intellectual forge, leads the way – recent years have shown that the whirlpool of politics is particularly intense in the camp of the broadly defined conservatives. This is probably because, after years of total domination of the liberal discourse, they finally have a chance to react and shout out loudly what has been in their hearts for the past thirty years, that is, since the transformation. Now the conservatives can have their say. And the proliferation of the internet helps them. Apart from that they have their own publishing houses and prizes.
One can even go so far as to say that they are engaged in literature, permeated with ideas close to their hearts, and they are completely open about it. While for years the progressive camp – and not only in Poland – infected culture with its "soft" message, simply saturating books or films with content promoting that worldview, shown to be the normal one, right-wing artists do not hide that they want to promote a specific agenda. And this, of course, is bound to have some specific consequences for what and how they create.
Rymkiewicz and Wencel, or the Smolensk baptism
But before that, let us first try to examine to what extent it is possible to speak of right-wing literature as a separate phenomenon with some specific features. In order to establish this, it is necessary to trace how that literature emancipated itself from the Polish literary landscape in general. And one can point to three most important stages here – the milestones that led to the situation we are dealing with today. It is symptomatic of today's times, as conservative art, although vibrant and unable to complain about the lack of audiences, is essentially developing in a niche.
It started as early as in the 1990s, and specifically in 1994. It was then that two young authors identifying themselves as conservatives - Grzegorz Górny and Rafał Smoczyński – created the "Fronda" magazine. It was the first attempt to make an intellectual and artistic breakthrough in the then dominant left-liberal current in Poland, which many right-wingers today mockingly call The Saloon. This put the wind in the wings of many writers, especially journalists protesting about the round-table order. They successfully entered the media structures of the Third Republic of Poland, trying to enrich them with a conservative message. They quickly earned their nickname: The Pampers. Some of them discovered a literary vain within themselves.
Then came 2008, and with it Bronisław Wildstein's novel "A Valley of Nothingness", which received a really wide media coverage. It is hardly surprising – Wildstein, using the convention of the so-called "story with a key", uncompromisingly dealt with dozens of Polish elites from "Gazeta Wyborcza" and showed the turn of 1989 as a true Judas' betrayal of Solidarity ideals. It was then that the first time – and in fact probably the last time – a right-wing voice resounded so strongly in the mainstream. And although an avalanche of criticism fell on Wildstein, his book has long become a reference point for other authors who share conservative values.
The culminating point, of course, was the Smolensk disaster. This was followed by the final division – in political and media circles, as well as in society and culture. Most of the so-called "rebellious journalists", who questioned the official line of the PO government about the causes of the crash as simply an airplane accident, were thrown out of the mainstream media where they worked thus far. This resulted in the creation of an independent media circulation called the Free Word Zone, and within its framework such projects as Telewizja Republika and the "Uważam Rze" weekly. Writers, you have to understand, were not idle either.
And since the spirit of such landmark moments as the 10th of April in Poland was always best expressed in the language of poetry, it is appropriate to recognise two names. Just a few days after the catastrophe, the "Rzeczpospolita" daily newspaper published a poem-appeal by Jarosław Marek Rymkiewicz, entitled "To Jarosław Kaczynski". Not only did Rymkiewicz call upon the President of Law and Justice (PiS) to act courageously and immediately, but he also diagnosed the essence of the fundamental division that is being born, which unfortunately still continues and is destroying Polish public life day in day out. The poem itself - which is not difficult to guess – also become a bone of contention.
Smoleńsk also turned out to be a moment of triumph for Wojciech Wencel – thus far known as a subtle metaphysical-religious poet. After 10 April, Wencel's works reached the deepest layers of national mysticism, richly soaked in Catholic messianism. It was a de facto revival of Polish Romantic traditions, which in the 19th century crystallized at the meeting point of Catholicism and repressions by the invaders – especially tsarist Russia. Wencel undoubtedly committed a kind of "thought crime" here, as many "progressive" critics had already buried Polish Romanticism for good years before.
From this cursory sketch we can draw a basic conclusion: above all, right-wing literature, regardless of internal divisions within the environment itself, is literature of protest. It is not about aesthetics or entertainment, but about rebellion against the status quo and the hegemony of liberalism prevailing in Western civilization. And it's this feature that seems to tie it together and define it much more than anything else. Occasionally even going against the creators themselves.
Wildstein and Lisicki, between literature and journalism
A good illustration of this is the event that took place in 2012 in Traffic Club bookstore in Warsaw during the promotion of Bronisław Wildstein's book "Hidden". It was hosted by Jacek Karnowski, a publicist and head of the "Sieci" weekly – at one point, to the surprise of both the author and the audience, he gave away the criminal punch line of the novel. When the bewildered author pointed out that such things should not be done, Karnowski, a little taken aback, replied that it was only a crime novel convention, because from the very beginning it was obvious that it was something else. And this basically shows us a close up image of Polish right-wing literature.
And this basically shows us a close up image of Polish right-wing literature. Other important right-wing writers – such as Rafał A. Ziemkiewicz, Paweł Lisicki or Waldemar Łysiak – probably don't even try to pretend that their primary goal is to create readable fiction. When one juxtaposes their journalism with the literary works they create, it is clear that the latter are simply a transcription of the fictional conclusions and theses they publish in their columns and essays.
An example is Paweł Lisicki's "Epoch of the Antichrist", published in 2018. As a writer, Lisicki is known primarily for his essays on the borderline between religious studies and civilization issues. His publications such as "Luther. The dark side of the revolution" (2017), 'Jihad and the self-destruction of the West'. (2015) and "The Secret of Mary Magdalene" (2014) did not go unnoticed in the right-wing circles. The titles themselves say a lot about the content, and when juxtaposed with Lisicki's media journalism they complete the picture of his subjects. When we hols "The Antichrist's Age", we immediately realize that we are getting basically the same thing, but dressed in a quasi-fictional context.
Using the sf convention, Lisicki draws a vision of the final fall of the Church dominated by modernism, feminism and LGBTQ ideology. The plot is, however, calculative, not to say pretextual, and the characters presented, in which the reader gets lost very quickly, are in fact only stamps of the theses formulated by the author. The pure reading pleasure of following the action or worrying about the fate of the characters is unlikely to be enjoyed, but that is not what this – as Lisicki himself calls it – story is about.
And the same is true for the works of many other right-wing aka conservative writers - Marcin Wolski and his supposed novel "The Last Conclave", Piotr Goćek and his pretend sf "Democrator", and finally Ziemkiewicz, a celebrity of the literary status, who seems to have given up on prose for good. In any case, all this shows the trait of Polish right-wing literature that is visible at first glance: it is impossible to separate the purely artistic element from the strictly journalistic criticism of the reality controlled by the left-wing discourse. And even the latter is generally superior to the former.
This rule is also reflected in the CVs of most right-wing writers. They are either journalists who at some point decided to express themselves in a literary way or writers who started to work in the media. Lisicki is currently the head of the "Do Rzeczy" weekly, which competes for the attention of conservative viewers with "Scieci", Wildstein during the previous reign of the Law and Justice party was for some time the president of TVP, and Ziemkiewicz – still in the 90s known mainly in the circles of fantasy enthusiasts - has been functioning for a long time as a political commentator. The same goes for Marcin Wolski and others - Piotr Zaremba, Andrzej Horubala etc.
Witold Gadowski is an interesting case. Although he has worked for most of his professional life as a journalist, as well as an excellent reporter, today he fiercely fights for the presence of literature on the right, with a truly romantic enthusiasm. He is the author of the sensational and spy novels "The Tower of Communists" and "Gone to the dogs". Some time ago he started an independent publishing business. He promotes writers who are overlooked by the mainstream – sometimes also the conservative one – and recently announced a competition for a Polish contemporary novel. With an emphasis on original novels.
Gadowski and Nowakowski, or between politics and romanticism
And since we have evoked romanticism, let's try to think what Polish right-wing literature is really talking about and whether its fuel is only one-dimensional politics. This romantic diction has certainly been the most glaring in the above mentioned work of Wojciech Wencel, but, contrary to appearances, it is no exception. Let’s go back to Gadowski. Both he and the protagonist of his novel, a naughty and uncooperative journalist Andrzej Brenner, is a classic figure of a lone fighter for truth and principles, well known from the pages of Polish history and literature.
Radek from Rafał Ziemkiewicz's novel "Żywin", which tries to unravel the mystery of the death of an MP of Self-Defence party, turns out to be very similar. And exactly the same romantic archetype can be found in Zbigniew Herbert, who for the last ten years of his life strongly orbited the right wing, and today is considered by the right wing to be "his" poet. The echoes of this archetype resonate in the short stories by Marek Nowakowski, populated by inferior tricksters and outcasts guided by a specific code of honour. It can finally be seen simply in the biographies of many conservative authors.
It seems, therefore, that politics, politics, or whatever else you call it, is for a Polish right-wing writer not so much an end in itself as a tool - not always so obvious again - to shout out: non possumus! The Polish right-wing man, like his great romantic predecessors Adam Mickiewicz, Juliusz Słowacki and Cyprian Kamil Norwid, claims his virtues. And that even if his heroes have had a hard life and not always as holy as they would like to be. The Polish right-wing man opposes the axiological atrophy of the modern, modernist world.
Recently, it has been increasingly warning against ideologies that threaten us all. And he has quite an ambivalent attitude to the strictly artistic layer of what comes out of his keyboard. On the other hand, he is well aware that his readers do not expect this from him. At least most do not. He leaves playing with form and waffling to armchair authors. He doesn't count on their applause anymore. And he doesn't, because I think he has finally overcome that has been troubling him most since 1989 – an inferiority complex.
Nobel for Tokarczuk, or a bucket of cold water for right-wingers
The Saloon reciprocates with what it is best at: tactical blind eye mixed with mockery, if the opportunity arises, and occasional analyses, which generally point out that right-wing writers have an unhealthy fixation with sex. From time to time, the left-wing press publishes texts like the one by Justyna Sobolewska in the March 2019 "Polityka" weekly. Sobolewska stated, among other things, that in right-wing literature women serve as trophies at most, while brave men fight the terror of homosexuality and resist the attacks of feminists trying to turn them into jelly.
Although there are exceptions in this aspect too. After awarding the literary Nobel Prize to Olga Tokarczuk – which the right accepted with tactful chill – Kinga Dunin – critic and writer associated with "Krytyka Polityczna", aroused quite a stir. She stated in an interview with Robert Mazurek in "Gazeta Prawna" that although none of the right-wing writers can count on the Nobel Prize, there is no doubt that Jarosław Marek Rymkiewicz is an excellent writer. It is interesting to add that in 2003 Rymkiewicz received the Nike Literary Award granted by the "Wyborcza" Literary Award. Which of course would be impossible today.
In the same interview, Dunin admitted openly that the literary establishment has its own worldview and that it is generally liberal. She explained it by the fact that without the ambiguity that liberalism provides, there is no real literature. Right-wingers, according to her, are not in the price, because unlike left-wing and liberals, they evaluate and judge everything and everyone, without giving them the opportunity to manoeuvre. This is not the time and place to argue with this view or to show that those on the opposite side are not free from prejudice, although it is worth considering whether Dunin is right.
Stępniak and Lubelski, that is, whether the heart of the novel also beats on the right side
The Saloon's unwavering conviction that "true literature" is their domain is most clearly demonstrated by the statement of last year's Nobel Prize winner from 2016. During Nike's final gala, which she got for her novel "James' Books", she said – enough, I must admit, authoritatively – that today the heart of the novel beats on the left. And this is because, as she argued, it is necessary to open up to the otherness of man, to understand his motivations and identify with him. Unfortunately, as much as it indicates, this declaration does not translate into action in the Salon when it comes to conservative writers. And in the meantime, the old ones are trampling on the heels of the old ones.
1986 for example and Anna Stępniak, a blogger and sociologist, who is not hiding behind her conservatism and recently debuted with the novel "Very unpleasant". Stępniak is a talented artist who paints in it a picture of contemporary Warsaw and the people lost in it, and even more so in his own interiors. Her book asks the reader a fundamental and disturbing question, especially for many young right-wing people, why we are not able to communicate – among other things on a political level – and why what seems obvious to us, no longer necessarily has to be so even for our close friends.
Stępniak, just like Gadowski, has put a hundred percent bet on self-publishing, which - as we read on her website - is an ideal solution for all those who value true freedom of speech, especially in the era of widespread dependence on grants, subsidies and ideological orders. I guess, as you can guess, with an emphasis on the latter. Which – as we have tried to demonstrate – is also a key determinant of today's right-wingness, focused largely on fighting the tyranny of left-wing political correctness. Meanwhile, Stępniak proves that not only is she not afraid of it, but also that she has mastered modern tools to reach readers directly.
Another example, which can inflict a lie on the bumpy Tokarczuk's manifesto, is the 1984 yearbook, behind which Jakub Lubelski and his very warmly received "Boiduda" are hidden. Lubelski – a columnist associated with the conservative-catholic "Political Theology", where he writes about the interface between art and sacrum – serves us in "Boiduda" a generational novel with captivatingly written elements of bildungsroman. It's not a subject abundantly represented on the right. Writers presenting this sensitivity generally seem too busy fighting for the principle and facing leftism to bend over something as subtle as adolescence and the formation of a young man with all the baggage of this process of unobviousness.
Mateusz Matyszkowicz, who praised this book on the portal of the already mentioned "Political Theology", pointed out that in order for conservatism to get back on its feet in today's post-Christian world and regain its sovereign voice, it should first of all start from its own home. And for this he needs not only manifestos, rallies or demonstrations, but also - and perhaps most importantly - literature that would tell us anew about the intricacies of the human spirit.. And in Matyszkowicz's opinion, such a proposal is "Boiduda". - a moving story of a boy raised without a father.
These examples show that in fact the spectrum of what we consider to be right-wing or conservative in Poland today is wide. Reading Stępniak and Lubelski, one can have an impression that calling something right-wing can sometimes be a trap. Because perhaps, in fact, it is not at all about which drawer we put a given work or its author into, but about an attempt to fulfil the postulate of Józef Mackiewicz - a writer considered to be the spiritual father of the right - that only the truth is interesting. Once the pursuit of truth and belief that it exists was the norm, today it gets a "right-wing" label.
Such are the times. Just our luck. In the meantime, more books and more publications are being written, and the Mackiewicz award – currently the most prestigious one on the right – is appropriating more names.
Marcin Królik - born in 1979, writer, publicist and blogger. He studied Polish philology at the University of Warsaw. He made his debut in 2013 with the "Drzewo różane" ["Rose Tree"] novel He also writes essays and reports, where he focuses on broadly defined spiritual and civilisational issues.
Sources:
"Literatura i polityka po 1989 roku" oprac. zbiorowe, wyd. Ośrodek Myśli Politycznej 2017
https://teologiapolityczna.pl/mateusz-matyszkowicz-szukanie-konserwatywnej-literatury