During the stormy days of July 2017 in Warsaw I remember marching in a crowd of over 50,000 angry citizens shouting "Constitution!" "Free the Courts!" "We want veto power!"
Sometimes the chants subsided and the mass crowds grew silent and we held candles symbolizing the funeral for the rule of law in Poland – meant as cautionary warning of what could be if we did not fight back.
There was a strong feeling of unity among those of us concerned about the specter of a collapsing Polish democracy. Despite our fears, we were absolutely confident that even if it was derailed, Polish democracy would soon return to its tracks.
I also remember a conversation with a Hungarian colleague at the time. He was not encouraging. “We had the same events here six years ago, when the ruling Fidesz- party controlled parliament introduced the constitution of Hungary. Thousands of people were on the streets. Nothing happened. Today? Nobody protests,” he warned. I was incredulous. I could not imagine that could be Poland’s fate too.
Polish judiciary protests in 2017 were a reaction to three rapidly adopted pieces of legislation that severely threatened the rule of law in Poland. The Polish parliament, dominated by the far-right Law and Justice party (PiS) passed three bills that put judicial independence under severe threat. Those bills gave the minister of justice the authority to appoint and retire Supreme Court judges, as well as control over the selection of judges in lower courts. They also established the Disciplinary Chamber at the Supreme Court that could punish judges accused of “engaging in political activity”.
The street protests in 250 cities and towns across Poland were accompanied by international pressure, from the U.S. State Department and, more importantly for Poland, from the European Commission.
Finally, on July 24th, the president of Poland, Andrzej Duda, formally nonpartisan, but in fact associated with PiS, decided to veto this new legislation and promised to propose a new set of judicial reforms.
In his statement he mentioned national unity and the core values of Polish democracy. “A state that is torn by unrest, a state that is torn by political war, is not a state that can develop as it could if it were a peaceful state. That is why I am appealing for this calmness and prudence - both to those who make the law in Poland, to those who today have a parliamentary majority, and to opposition politicians”. The president mentioned Zofia Romaszewska, a broadly respected communism-era dissident, as inspiration for his decision.
The presidential veto and strong statement silenced the protests. However, four months later the president came back with almost identical legislation. The ramifications of these bills did not differ from the reforms proposed earlier. It also established the Disciplinary Chamber to censor judges, gave politicians control over courts and could force the retirement of Supreme Court judges.
The presidential reform was passed rapidly, with only relatively small protests. The anti-governmental movement had clearly lost its momentum. In the November rain only 2,000 people crowded in front of the Presidential Palace. Many grumbled that the marches did not attract younger people. It was nothing like the spirit of summer protests.
I thought about those experiences from 2017 when two days ago Polish deputy foreign affairs minister, Paweł Jabłoński, boasted on the radio that he was advising Netahyahu’s cabinet about effective ways to perform a judicial power grab.
Just the night before, on Sunday, massive protests of hundreds of thousands gathered across Israel. Universities announced strikes and local council leaders announced hunger protests. “Of course, [when] speaking with Israel, we shared our experiences in this area to some extent,” said Jabłoński to RMF Radio, “The Israeli side themselves asked us about it.”
Later the same day, in the evening, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu announced the delay of judicial legislation for a month. His television statement reminded me of Duda’s speech when he announced his veto. Netanyahu spoke of his desire “to prevent the rift in the nation” and to “avoid civil war”.
Many Israelis, (and the international travelers stuck at Ben-Gurion airport because of the general strike) felt relief. But the way I see it, Likud clearly learned from the 2017 Polish judicial power grab. Pause now – act later. Will this mean the end of the protest movement in Israel?
Although there are many similarities between both countries, any direct comparisons have to be made with extreme caution.
Yes, both societies are polarized, and populist politicians from PiS and Likud view the judiciary as an obstacle to their authority. In both countries, the ruling party intermingles with right-wing extremists. In Israel, Otzma Yehudit is part of the government, and nationalist minister Itamar Ben-Gvir was even just granted permission to establish his own armed militia.
In Poland, the leader of All-Polish Youth, a movement known for committing anti-Semitic riots in the 1930s, was appointed a deputy minister of digital affairs, while other successors of pre-war pogromist movements received large financial support from state-related agencies. The more right-wing populist parties derail from the rule of law, the more they will depend on extremist support.
The key difference between Poland and Israel is the international constraint on governmental power grabs. After the 2017 reforms, the European Commission launched an infringement procedure to protect judges in Poland from political control. As a consequence, the commission denied access to €36 billion recovery funds for Poland after the COVID-19 pandemic. The European Court of Human Rights ruled that the rights of the suspended judges were violated, as the disciplinary chamber was “not a tribunal established by law”. As a member state of the European Union and the Council of Europe, Poland is obligated to uphold rule of law standards, or else it will face financial penalties. In contrast, the judiciary in Israel does not have such a safety net.
On the other hand, Israeli protests seem much more powerful than the Polish ones. In both countries, intellectuals, academics, and white-collar workers were overrepresented in these protests, while the populist government presented itself as a representative of the “everyday people”. Even if highly educated people are still a numerical minority, their economic impact is essential for the country’s development. This is especially true for the “Start-up Nation” of Israel and to a lesser extent in Poland, a cheap labor hub of European manufacturing. Therefore, judiciary protests in Israel can potentially be much more threatening to the country's everyday functioning.
Considering all these differences, it seems obvious that Netanyahu and Duda used the same strategy to silence the protests.
This strategy is well-known to researchers, who call it the "irony of harmony," a term coined by Israeli psychologist Tamar Saguy. According to Saguy, the appeasing messages, peaceful interactions and focus on commonalities reduce the attention of the disadvantaged group members in society to the inequalities and power abuses. We observed something similar among the LGBTQ people in Poland: when they were asked to think about what they have in common with other Polish people, their motivation to protest against discrimination was diminished. This is why populist politicians often call for national unity and harmony when trying to silence the protesters.
The potential of the protest movement depends on maintaining a strong identity among participants rather than its ability to achieve its initial goals. When authorities create an illusion of achieving the protest goals by vetoing or postponing the decision, they destroy the core of the movement's identity - which is, in a way its superpower.
The commonly accepted values of peace, harmony, and reconciliation can effectively be used to silence protests. Such demobilization could open the door to further attacks on the judiciary and, ultimately, other violations of human rights by a populist government. This is, at least, the lesson from Poland.
Michał Bilewicz is associate professor of social psychology and the director of the Center for Research on Prejudice at the University of Warsaw. Twitter: @Michal_Bilewicz
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