Poland weeps for president killed in crash
Written By Patrycja Romanowska
KRAKOW, Poland — Yesterday, the courtyard of the presidential palace in Warsaw was aglow as grief-stricken people lit candles encased in coloured glass and prayed for the souls of those who had once lived there.
In Krakow, church bells tolled heavily and even the sky wept, sending down thick sheets of rain to drench the hundreds of people gathering to mourn at the Wawel Cathedral.
The evening mass began with Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz somberly listing the names of the 93 people who had died in a plane crash in Smolensk, Russia, only hours before.
"Lech Kaczynski, president of the Republic of Poland, Maria Kaczynska, the president's wife, Ryszard Kaczorowski, former president in exile of the Republic of Poland..."
The list seemed to go on and on as the cardinal's steady, even voice revealed how this tragedy touched almost every facet of Poland's public life.
Aside from the presidential pair, the plane carried parliamentarians, senators, secretaries of state, priests, diplomats, the central bank governor, the Olympic committee president and chiefs of the army.
Every name and every title echoed through the church, deepening the sense of tragedy while at once making it ever more surreal.
This is certainly not Poland's first national catastrophe, those are too numerous to list.
Nor is it the first time a national leader died in a plane crash; wartime government leader General Wladyslaw Sikorski died this way in 1943.
It is not even the first time the country's political elite was wiped out. On a much larger scale, 70 years ago the Soviet secret police murdered over 20,000 Polish reservist officers who, as educated members of the country's intelligentsia, were the cream of the wartime generation. The flowers, they were called.
The deep and incredible irony linking yesterday's crash with the Katyn massacre is that both happened in almost exactly the same place.
There are no birds here; there is no life; there is only silence, said former president Aleksander Kwasniewski of the Katyn forest, just 19 km away from the airport in Smolensk.
Cursed as though it may now seem, this Russian forest was supposed to be the site of healing and remembrance this weekend.
The presidential delegation was headed to a commemorative ceremony marking the 70th anniversary of the massacre. This occasion also formed the basis for a diplomatically acclaimed meeting between Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk and his Russian counterpart Vladimir Putin last Wednesday.
These meetings and ceremonies are important as the Soviets had long denied responsibility for Katyn, blaming the Germans until the 1990s.
In another ironic twist, many believe that the last Polish leader to die in a plane crash (Wladyslaw Sikorski) was murdered for intending to expose the truth about the Katyn killings.
Whether or not this is true, the Russian acknowledgment of responsibility and expressions of regret have done much to repair relations. And whether or not Katyn holds a hex for Poles, the mere sight of the word makes me want to cross myself.
Now, of course, all historical quarrels and their resolutions will be momentarily forgotten as Poland's political class reels before the massive task at hand. Presidential elections that were slated for autumn will now have to be held in either May or June.
As set out in the constitution, the acting president is the Speaker of the Sejm (the lower house of parliament) Bronislaw Komorowski.
Interestingly, he is also supposed to be the presidential candidate for the frontrunning Civic Platform party. However, the death of the incumbent president who was Komorowski's main competition for the hearts and minds of Poles has turned the political chessboard upside down.
Also, while not a significant contender, the presidential candidate for the leftist SLD was also killed in the crash.
Currently, one of the more significant speculations is that the current prime minister, who lost to Kaczynski in the previous election, will reconsider his decision not to run for the presidency.
There is not much news yet as to how or who will fill the huge gaps left by the remaining parliamentarians and members of the different institutions but one thing is certain, it won't be business as usual anytime soon.
Like most Poles, the country's politicians are, by all accounts, still reeling with shock.
A weeklong national mourning was declared by Komorowski along with two minutes of silence to be observed today.
Black ribbons are tied to red and white flags that adorn the most important buildings as well as the smallest corner stores. Candles burn, their flickering flames speaking at once to the fragility of life and inevitability of death.
A lot has been made, and rightly, of the fact that the people on board that plane were so important.
Those who are gone will leave large holes to fill in the fabric of Poland's public life. But they will leave even bigger holes elsewhere because ultimately they were all mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands, children or lovers.
Poland will recover, as it always does, but the hearts that broke last night will never really mend.
 |
KRAKOW, Poland — Yesterday, the courtyard of the presidential palace in Warsaw was aglow as grief-stricken people lit candles encased in coloured glass and prayed for the souls of those who had once lived there.
In Krakow, church bells tolled heavily and even the sky wept, sending down thick sheets of rain to drench the hundreds of people gathering to mourn at the Wawel Cathedral.
The evening mass began with Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz somberly listing the names of the 93 people who had died in a plane crash in Smolensk, Russia, only hours before.
"Lech Kaczynski, president of the Republic of Poland, Maria Kaczynska, the president's wife, Ryszard Kaczorowski, former president in exile of the Republic of Poland..."
The list seemed to go on and on as the cardinal's steady, even voice revealed how this tragedy touched almost every facet of Poland's public life.
Aside from the presidential pair, the plane carried parliamentarians, senators, secretaries of state, priests, diplomats, the central bank governor, the Olympic committee president and chiefs of the army.
Every name and every title echoed through the church, deepening the sense of tragedy while at once making it ever more surreal.
This is certainly not Poland's first national catastrophe, those are too numerous to list.
Nor is it the first time a national leader died in a plane crash; wartime government leader General Wladyslaw Sikorski died this way in 1943.
 |
It is not even the first time the country's political elite was wiped out. On a much larger scale, 70 years ago the Soviet secret police murdered over 20,000 Polish reservist officers who, as educated members of the country's intelligentsia, were the cream of the wartime generation. The flowers, they were called.
The deep and incredible irony linking yesterday's crash with the Katyn massacre is that both happened in almost exactly the same place.
There are no birds here; there is no life; there is only silence, said former president Aleksander Kwasniewski of the Katyn forest, just 19 km away from the airport in Smolensk.
Cursed as though it may now seem, this Russian forest was supposed to be the site of healing and remembrance this weekend.
The presidential delegation was headed to a commemorative ceremony marking the 70th anniversary of the massacre. This occasion also formed the basis for a diplomatically acclaimed meeting between Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk and his Russian counterpart Vladimir Putin last Wednesday.
These meetings and ceremonies are important as the Soviets had long denied responsibility for Katyn, blaming the Germans until the 1990s.
In another ironic twist, many believe that the last Polish leader to die in a plane crash (Wladyslaw Sikorski) was murdered for intending to expose the truth about the Katyn killings.
Whether or not this is true, the Russian acknowledgment of responsibility and expressions of regret have done much to repair relations. And whether or not Katyn holds a hex for Poles, the mere sight of the word makes me want to cross myself.
Now, of course, all historical quarrels and their resolutions will be momentarily forgotten as Poland's political class reels before the massive task at hand. Presidential elections that were slated for autumn will now have to be held in either May or June.
As set out in the constitution, the acting president is the Speaker of the Sejm (the lower house of parliament) Bronislaw Komorowski.
Interestingly, he is also supposed to be the presidential candidate for the frontrunning Civic Platform party. However, the death of the incumbent president who was Komorowski's main competition for the hearts and minds of Poles has turned the political chessboard upside down.
Also, while not a significant contender, the presidential candidate for the leftist SLD was also killed in the crash.
Currently, one of the more significant speculations is that the current prime minister, who lost to Kaczynski in the previous election, will reconsider his decision not to run for the presidency.
There is not much news yet as to how or who will fill the huge gaps left by the remaining parliamentarians and members of the different institutions but one thing is certain, it won't be business as usual anytime soon.
Like most Poles, the country's politicians are, by all accounts, still reeling with shock.
A weeklong national mourning was declared by Komorowski along with two minutes of silence to be observed today.
Black ribbons are tied to red and white flags that adorn the most important buildings as well as the smallest corner stores. Candles burn, their flickering flames speaking at once to the fragility of life and inevitability of death.
A lot has been made, and rightly, of the fact that the people on board that plane were so important.
Those who are gone will leave large holes to fill in the fabric of Poland's public life. But they will leave even bigger holes elsewhere because ultimately they were all mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands, children or lovers.
Poland will recover, as it always does, but the hearts that broke last night will never really mend.
 |
