Private Enterprise in Poland
 |
| by Barbara Sall |
 |
The shop is small, but well organized and has a great
location in the center of Krakow's business district in the
old, medieval part of town. Kristina, the proprietress, shows
me her latest selection of avant-garde pins and earrings, and
I hasten to buy several. At the black market exchange rate of
1,400 zlotys per $1, I figure the price of an originally
designed pin to be about 50 cents.
Kristina is a member of the fairly large, struggling
class of private entrepreneurs who have survived decades of
Communist rule in Poland, the land of eternal contradictions.
Her business, like that of her fellow private shopkeepers all
over Poland, is legal and not underground. She garners her
supply of costume jewelry and beautiful leather goods directly
from artisans and craftsman. Her prices are a matter of
supply and demand, although the pervasive inflation of the
Polish currency has had a devastating effect on her customers'
ability to buy.
I visited Kristina's shop when I traveled to Poland last
June. Hers is one of many private shops that provide a wide
variety of goods. They sell explicit caricatures of Communist
bureaucrats, posters that ridicule the Communist system and
hint at revolution, and paintings of dark and depressing
scenes of life under Communism. At the same time, private
flower stalls and produce stands are brimming with fresh --
and expensive -- harvests. These small, private enterprises
provide over half the food consumed by Poles, and create
islands of entrepreneurial activity in the midst of the
numbing regulations of socialism.
Despite over 40 years of Communist rule, Poland has
retained an element of private enterprise that surprises many
Western visitors. There will be no need to instruct Poles on
how to run shops, restaurants, small farms, or even private
manufacturing concerns should perestroika come to Poland. All
these businesses currently exist in Poland, but their ability
to prosper is severely hampered by government intervention.
The largest private sector, by far, is in agriculture.
Unlike leaders in other Communist countries, Polish Communists
lacked the resolve to collectivize the large landowning
peasant class. According to Neal Ascherson in his excellent
book, The Polish August (Viking, 1982), the Polish Communists
were unwilling to commit the violence that would have been
necessary to force the peasants off their land and into
communes. Because of this, Poland has maintained a tradition
of private ownership of land unequaled in the Eastern Bloc.
Not that private farmers haven't had their difficulties.
When scarce investment resources are grudgingly allocated to
agriculture, private farmers are way down the list and must
try to grow food without access to fertilizers, machinery,
or labor. The thousands of large work horses you still see in
Poland are the only farm "machinery" most private producers
have, and farmers must recruit extended family members to help
with the harvests.
So, although more than half of Polish food is produced by
private farmers, these landowners have very little ability to
improve their farming methods. Also, unless they are able to
take their own produce to town to sell, they must sell to the
government at fixed prices that provide little incentive to
expand production.
In addition, Poland has a small, private manufacturing
industry. I was fortunate in being able to talk to Marek, a
worker in a private chemical plant near Krakow.
To a Pole, the most important part of working for a
private company is the pay. Marek earns four times the wages
he would if he worked for a comparable state factory or
laboratory. On the other hand, however, there is a great deal
of uncertainty for workers in the private sector. If a
private company becomes too successful in competing against
state-run concerns, the government can remove the licenses
required to do business, or refuse to supply raw materials.
Not surprisingly, all this uncertainty is particularly
hard on business owners. Although a venture may prove to be
successful, and the first impulse would be to reinvest
profits, a sudden cutoff of supplies could result in the loss
of invested capital. For that reason, businessmen are
reluctant to invest more than they can afford to lose. Most
private manufacturing concerns remain small and try to avoid
the attention of the Communist bureaucracy. This is not as
difficult as a Westerner would assume because of the survival
techniques developed by Poles over centuries of invasion and
occupation by unfriendly powers.
Business is often conducted only among old friends and in
an atmosphere of reciprocity that would puzzle the American
capitalist. The most important commodity in Poland is
information, and this can be relayed to selected individuals
through an amazing network of "friendly" party officials,
plant superintendents, and suppliers.
The need to engage in trades for information and
supplies, however, can lead to shady arrangements that involve
bribes and supplies taken illegally from state storehouses.
Marek deplored the need for these kinds of arrangements, but
insisted that they often are required to stay in business.
One of the objectives of Solidarity, the banned trade
union, has been to put an end to underground deals and bribes
-- an idea that has a great deal of support among Polish
businessmen. They realize that Poles must be free to make
trades and buy supplies on world markets in order to develop
an extensive and successful private sector. Reliance on the
arbitrary whims of government bureaucrats and the black market
is no way to run a business.
Although Polish entrepreneurs temper their enthusiasm
with large doses of realism, they are excited about two bills
currently before the Polish assembly.
The first, and more important, would restructure the
present tax system, which is extremely graduated. Any
increase in profits is literally taxed out of existence and,
in the words of Marek, "It makes it impossible to subsist and
not to cheat. Every private businessman is now cheating --
paying bribes and maintaining good relations with authorities
in order to circumvent the tax codes."
Ideologically it would be very difficult to pass a
meaningful tax reform. The idea of a socialist society
allowing adequate profits in the private sector is something
even democratic socialistic countries such as Sweden have a
hard time accepting.
The brightest spot on the horizon concerns removal of
some of the many licenses and regulations that are stifling
Polish businesses. A list has been drawn up that would
virtually exclude many firms, mostly service businesses, from
current regulations.
The new bill eliminates most of the educational
requirements, supply restrictions, and wage and price
controls. Several of Marek's young friends plan to open day
care centers and technical service businesses. They cite the
government's need to promote any type of economic growth as
the reason behind the new deregulation package, but are quick
to point out that without passage of the tax reform bill,
deregulation is essentially meaningless. Marek hopes that
continued protests about the horrid state of the economy will
pressure the government into going ahead with meaningful tax
reform.
I got an indication of how important the private sector
is becoming in Poland from Kazimierz Fugiel, a strike leader
at the Lenin steelworks in Nowa Huta. Fugiel and all the
other members of his strike committee were fired from their
jobs at Nowa Huta upon being released from prison after
serving time for their involvement in the spring 1987 strikes.
They were immediately offered jobs in the private sector that
would have paid three to four times what they earned in the
steelworks.
But idealism is strong in Poland. Fugiel and his fellow
strikers refused the private sector offers and pressed the
government to let them have their old jobs back. All were
given their old jobs and continue to represent Solidarity as
active members of the strike committee. But the fact that
alternative jobs exist in the private sector creates a new tie
between Solidarity labor demands and private enterprise.
It is very doubtful if Poland will adopt a fully
capitalist system in the foreseeable future. But, since
Solidarity was outlawed in December 1981, many changes have
occurred.
Production workers now realize the advantages of dealing
with private plant owners. More and more of them don't want
to negotiate with government officials who can call out the
zomos (internal police), instead of listening to the
legitimate demands of the workers.
Libertarian societies in Warsaw and Krakow are offering
classes in the creation and operation of private firms. The
instructors are business owners.
Free market economic theory and practice are being openly
taught in major Polish universities. Required courses in
Marxist theory are ridiculed by students and faculty alike.
Some members of the Polish intelligentsia believe that even
the idea of a Communist or socialist society is dead in
Poland. Miroslaw Dzielski, chairman of the Krakow Libertarian
Industrial Society, told me, "The present leaders of the
Communist Party in Poland are not Communists. They are the
sons of Communists."
But they also hold the power in a country where
opposition parties are illegal. The question in Poland, I was
told several times, is not whether capitalism or socialism
works better. Everyone knows that capitalism is the superior
economic system. The question is, will those in power
relinquish even a small portion of their power, and if they
do, will the Russians allow it?
Although many Americans place considerable faith in
glasnost and perestroika, Polish dissidents look upon the new
Russian openness as a short-term, unimportant development.
The cycles of repression, hopeful change, and then further
repression have been all too frequent for dissidents to
believe that real change will come to Poland or the Soviet
Union as long as Marxism-Leninism holds sway.
And yet, knowing that they can't remove the Communists
from power, they still are willing to take terrible risks in
slowly pushing the Communist system as far as they can. They
have adopted the techniques of civil disobedience to win
concessions such as alternative service for draft resistors
and promises to alleviate Poland's horrendous pollution
problem.
These victories give them hope, but Poles are well aware
that hard-won gains can be taken away overnight. The Polish
people exist on a game board with twice as many squares
leading back to "START" as those that would advance them to
the final elimination of Communism. But to end the game would
be to lose everything, and this they refuse to do. They will
continue to strike, to face the zomos, to go to jail, and to
publish their underground works, but the outcome is anything
but assured.
To protect the identities of the Polish citizens interviewed for this
article, pseudonyms have been provided for some of the
participants.
Barbara Sall is vice president of The International Alliance
for Freedom and Peace, based in Boise, Idaho.