The old lamp radio emitted crackling sounds. The voice of Free Europe’s speaker reached us, accompanied by static and disturbances—some allegedly intentionally generated by the PRL authorities.
On the upside, the old farmhouse in rural Poland where I spent my summers was so far removed from neighbors that we didn’t need to lower the volume. This radio provided one of the few streams of independent thought, alongside poorly edited unofficial newspapers and illegal books from the black market (including our collection of Witold Gombrowicz’s works).
I was around nine years old at the time, and I vividly recall my grandmother’s warnings not to mention this forbidden station at school. Her memories of serving in the Secret Army during World War II added weight to those admonitions.
For those curious about the sound quality and intentional disturbances, here’s an example: a recording from December 13, 1981—the day Martial Law (Stan Wojenny) was declared in Poland.
Interestingly, the only broadcast I remember discussed Margaret Thatcher’s government preparing to introduce the poll tax. I recall learning that the Queen would pay the same tax as her maid, and this idea could potentially challenge the Iron Lady’s rule.
What strikes me when I reflect on that time is the world’s simplicity. There was the Żelazna Kurtyna (Iron Curtain): we were on the wrong side of it in the East, under the Soviet Union’s yoke, while the West stood as a beacon of goodness. Perhaps the only ambivalence lay in Germany’s status—were they bad due to World War II or good because they were part of the West? Maybe a bit of both, considering the existence of two German states.
It wasn’t just my child’s imagination; I recall hushed conversations among adults discussing the latest news from the US, England, or France. They quoted presidents and prime ministers as if they were our neighbors from two streets over, shaping ideas about the state, economy, and politics. The power of the capitalism-communism conflict left no room for nuanced distinctions.
Our farmhouse overflowed with books my father brought back from his time in the States. We often listened to Leonard Cohen’s songs—both in the original and Maciej Zębaty’s excellent Polish translations. After Cohen’s concert in my Polish hometown of Poznań in 1985, it felt natural for my parents to discuss the artist’s Polish roots backstage. We truly felt connected to the West and its ideals.
As years passed, my knowledge expanded beyond the limits set by old classics like Kipling, London, or Verne. Secondary school became a period of increasing interest in history, philosophy, and politics. Gradually, I discerned more shades of ideas on both sides of the curtain, which had crumbled in the meantime.
Today, I follow local media in Polish, German and English across several countries, striving to absorb diverse sources and opinions.
I’ve come to realize that the world of ideas and opinions is far more complex than I ever expected as a child. I’m uncertain whether I’ll ever return to a point where my view of the world becomes as clear-cut as it was during the days when I listened to the crackling sound of Free Europe. For now, I find myself in agreement with Ryszard Kapuściński, who, after a lifetime of exploring the world, gave an interview published under the title “I Cannot Encompass the World” (Polish: “Nie Ogarniam Świata”).
In today’s context, I see that ideas not only vary from one country to another but also that the people within those countries are far from unanimous. One needn’t look far – Germany’s Ampelkoalition struggles to find a single response to the situation in Ukraine, while the UK and the USA differ on numerous points.
Perhaps it’s this diversity of opinion and the freedom to express it that constitute our fundamental value and unite us? As Voltaire famously said, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”
At times, I grapple with making sense of it all.
However, in my professional work, I’ve achieved at least one thing: a heightened sensitivity to the messages people aim to convey—their motivations and true meanings. Over the years of my freelance translation career, I’ve become adept at capturing this intended meaning across various barriers arising from different cultures, education, and more.
