New Europe Old Economy

The war in Iraq may have raised temperatures in Europe and America and opened a dangerous new rift in the transatlantic alliance, but in Poland there was never much question about which side to be on. President Aleksander Kwaśniewski, the man in charge of foreign policy, watched the antiwar movement in Western Europe with a mixture of incomprehension and disgust. When France, Germany and Belgium forced NATO (which Poland recently joined) to reject Turkey's request for antimissile defenses, Kwaśniewski wondered what solidarity among allies really meant to them. And when Jacques Chirac suggested that Eastern Europe's leaders "missed a good opportunity to stay quiet" after they failed to back his antiwar policy, Kwaśniewski was furious. In the end, it was like choosing a spouse: a gut feeling about who would make a loyal partner for life. "We had a chance to change the brotherhood of words to the brotherhood of blood," says Marek Siwiec, Kwaśniewski's National Security Adviser. "And we took it." So Poland cast its lot with the superpower across the sea. It's no coincidence that George W. Bush's first stop on his first foreign trip since the fall of Baghdad, later this week, will be Krakow. The American President doesn't forget people who stand by him in the clutch. The last time Bush came to Poland, in 2001, he arrived after a stony reception in Western Europe. But in Warsaw, the crowds were so rapturous that one diplomat described him emerging, as in The Wizard of Oz, from a black-and-white world into living Technicolor.

For Poland too, the colors are suddenly vivid, and a risky but exhilarating journey lies ahead. This is starting to look like a good century for the Poles. After the genocidal depredations of World War II were followed by a brutal succession of communist dictators, things could hardly get worse. But then came Solidarity, and freedom — and today, against all the odds, the country is one of the three occupying powers in Iraq, at the same time as it's getting ready to consummate a decade-long courtship with the European Union. On June 7 and 8, Poles will cast their ballots in a referendum on joining the union, clearing — if it passes, which is likely but no sure thing — the final hurdle before gaining entry next year. When Bush rallies the crowd in Krakow this week, he will share the stage with a riot of pro-European banners urging Poles to take the plunge.

This emerging star on the international stage isn't managing to shine so brightly at home. Once the go-go economy of post-communist Eastern Europe, the place is mired in a three-year slump: unemployment is over 18%, growth last year was an anemic 1.3% and the left-wing ruling party of Prime Minister Leszek Miller, the point man on the economy, is the least popular of any since the communist era. If the E.U. referendum fails, early elections could bring to power a zealot and populist, Andrzej Lepper, whose platform today is equal parts contempt for the E.U. and enthusiasm for high pork prices. The current leadership sees a yes vote as the only way out of Poland's economic mess, and their own unpopularity. "The E.U. is not a taxicab that you can call up anytime," Miller warned two weeks ago. "It's a train. If you don't get on board you get left behind."

One locomotive has already left the station, and Poles were as surprised as anyone to find themselves on board. When U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld announced in London on May 2 that Poland was to be one of three countries controlling territory in postwar Iraq, it caught even some senior officials by surprise. Foreign Minister Wlodzimierz Cimoszewicz was at an E.U. meeting on the Greek island of Rhodes when the news broke. He visibly blanched, according to one E.U. diplomat who was nearby. "He had no mandate coming from the Polish President; he had no decision from his parliament," said the diplomat. Given Poland's lack of experience in commanding peacekeeping efforts, the decision struck many diplomats as odd. "It's not serious," said one Brussels-based diplomat who wants Europe to assert itself more in the world. "It's a political proposal." A U.S. official does not really disagree, explaining that the Bush Administration, intent on rewarding Poland's support over Iraq, decided to "throw her in at the deep end and let her swim." If it works, Poland could emerge as the equivalent of, say, "a Spain or an Italy," he said. Sink or swim, "it will be an education." Poles recognize the risk of drowning. "We are in the same boat as the U.S.," said a senior Foreign Ministry official. "If Iraq is a catastrophe it will be bad for all of us. We will have to rethink our foreign policy."

Poland has some peacekeeping experience, but not much cash or equipment: no humvees, no boats to move soldiers on the Tigris and Euphrates, not even a military cargo plane. The military effort got off to a rocky start when Poland suggested Germany might contribute troops too, which the German press dismissed as insolent. But last week, NATO, excluded from a larger role of its own in Iraq, agreed to organize headquarters, communications and other logistics for the Polish-led force, while several countries, including Bulgaria, Ukraine, South Korea and the Philippines, pledged to serve under Polish command. The force is expected to reach 7,000 soldiers before deploying in mid-July, according to a senior Polish defense official.

Poland's other battle is raging closer to home. The country's E.U. advocates got a nasty surprise in April when Hungary, arguably the E.U.'s most enthusiastic candidate, managed a measly 46% turnout in its referendum (pre-vote polls had predicted 70%). In Poland, 50% of voters must cast ballots to validate the result. As a result, the clamor to vote tak (Polish for yes) has reached fever pitch. Kwaśniewski, who remains popular, ski-jumping sensation Adam Malysz and even some Dutch and Greek diplomats are barnstorming the countryside, touting the virtues of E.U. subsidies and the greater European family. In TV ads, children are shown dreaming of playing for Real Madrid, jobs are plentiful and every Pole is vacationing on the French Riviera. "It's their first time!" whispers one spot, showing young lovers on a date. "First time to vote.

The former dissident Adam Michnik, who was jailed for six years under communism and now edits the country's biggest newspaper, Gazeta Wyborcza, says Poland's accession to the E.U. will seal its transformation from communist satellite to full partner in the Western world. Puffing on a Gitanes cigarette at his top-floor office in a leafy Warsaw suburb, Michnik says a yes vote is his dream, a no his nightmare. "I am not an enthusiast of Chirac or [German Chancellor Gerhard] Schröder," he says. "But I prefer them to [Belarusian President Alexander] Lukashenko."

Not all Poles are convinced. Some may abstain to register their anger at the capitalist system, pollsters say. Poland's several million small and medium-sized farmers fear they'll be swamped by foreign competition and are expected mostly to vote no. Their loudest voice is Lepper, leader of the populist Samoobrona Party, which is now at 14% in the polls and just last week announced it backed a no vote. In an interview at his downtown Warsaw office, surrounded by a collection of sticklike modern sculptures depicting his party as the spiritual savior of Poland, Lepper warned darkly that the E.U. would be bad for 80% of Poles and that the government's real motive was to get its hands on "3,000 jobs in Brussels." At the European Parliament in Strasbourg in May, Lepper scoffed, fewer than one in six Members turned out to hear President Kwaśniewski. "That is how Europeans view the Polish state," he fumed.