[Automated translation]

Jacek Leociak

Michał Głowiński (1934 - 2023)

Professor Michał Głowiński had been associated with the Institute of Literary Research at the Polish Academy of Sciences since 1958. In 1976, he earned the title of Professor of Humanities. He chaired the Scientific Council of IBL for many terms. He was a co-founder of the Society for Academic Courses and published his work in the underground press. Professor Głowiński's scholarly legacy includes five volumes of his "Selected Works" in the "Classics of Contemporary Polish Humanistic Thought" series, edited by Ryszard Nycz and published by the Krakow-based Universitas. However, these are only selected works. Beyond them, there are numerous books, articles, and edited volumes to his name.

Michał Głowiński's work transcended the traditional boundaries of humanities disciplines, and his contributions extended beyond the realms of literary theory, the history of literature, and literary criticism. They encompassed various other areas of scholarly, editorial, and writing endeavors. Let's highlight some of them. Firstly, his crucial contributions to the field of literary studies, which, if fully presented, would provide an overview of the achievements in Polish literary studies after World War II, often referred to as modern. He was the founder or co-founder of such humanities trends as the Polish structuralist school, the theory of literary communication, and historical cultural poetics. Secondly, his pioneering studies on totalitarian language, Newspeak, and propaganda discourse on Polish soil, marked by exceptional insight and still relevant today. These studies covered topics such as Newspeak and the language of propaganda, as well as the readings of various obscene texts. Thirdly, his work dedicated to the Holocaust experience, including both research-based and autobiographical texts. Fourthly, his fundamental collaborative initiatives for the development of Polish philology and the consolidation of literary competence: "Outline of Literary Theory" (co-authored with Aleksandra Okopień-Sławińska and Janusz Sławiński, often referred to by students as the "triumvirate") and "Dictionary of Literary Terms" (compiled with Aleksandra Okopień-Sławińska, Janusz Sławiński, and Teresa Kostkiewiczowa). Both of these works are considered classics and have been repeatedly reissued after updates and revisions. Fifthly, his autobiographical prose, a significant and even constitutive element of his creative personality. This literary genre began with his miniature essay-autobiographies published in the late 1970s in journals such as "Teksty Drugie," "Kwartalnik Artystyczny," "Tygodnik Powszechny," "Tytuł," "Zeszyty Literackie," "Akcent," "Arkusze," and "Pogranicza" (later collected in separate volumes) and continued with memoirs. This cycle began in 1998 with "Czarne sezony" (nominated for the Nike Literary Award in 1999, translated into Swedish in 2001, Czech in 2002, and English in 2005) and reached its climax with the publication of "Kręgi obcości. Opowieści autobiograficznej" in 2010 (nominated for the Nike Literary Award in 2011).

Michał Głowiński was a courageous individual in the deepest sense of the word. Fear accompanied him from childhood. As a child sentenced to the Holocaust, he miraculously survived it along with his parents. However, as he claimed, one can survive the Holocaust but can never truly escape from it. After more than fifty years, he described his Holocaust childhood and the early post-war years. The title formula of this book, "Czarne sezony" (Black Seasons), became one of the great metaphors for human destiny, alongside Celan's "black milk of morning" from his famous "Death Fugue." Half a century of purgatory. Half a century of waiting to be ready to begin telling the story. Describing what could be captured in the "flash of memory" is inevitably accompanied by a sense of failure. Vast areas of irretrievable loss, forever inaccessible, buried in oblivion, remain outside its scope. It's hard to find a more poignant example in Polish literature of the pain caused by the memory of forgetfulness.

The three most terrifying experiences from the times of the Holocaust: the Umschlagplatz, the encounter with a blackmailer, and a chess game played with him, and six days spent hiding in a potato pit, in absolute confinement and darkness. Darkness and fear, the fear of confinement, the fear of madness, would linger with him for a long time. He concealed himself from the world like a snail in its shell. He felt different, strange, worse. He was constantly stigmatized and still threatened as a Jew.

The ashes of the murdered nation had not yet cooled when he heard a peculiar lecture on Holocaust theology during religious lessons in Pruszków: it was a just punishment for blasphemy, and one should not oppose divine judgments. Jews (all Jews who ever lived, are living, or, God forbid, will live) killed Jesus, so they took what was rightfully theirs. After such teachings, 13-year-old Michał was beaten on the school playground by a classmate who was a zealous student of the priest prefect of Pruszków. Two years after the war, the catechist priest proclaimed the terrible truth about godless Jews, about Jews murdering innocent Christian children to extract their blood for matzah. He genuinely hated Jews because, in his eyes, they embodied pure evil. The Church had spoken of Jews in no other way for hundreds of years. After over half a century, Michał Głowiński would write that the catechist priest "acted as if he hadn't noticed the Holocaust at all, as if he hadn't heard about it, as if it hadn't caught his attention that millions of people had disappeared from the earth he walked on." And if he did associate the war with Jews, it was to present his students with a parable about Divine Justice and the workings of Divine Providence. He said, "Hitler was terrible because he persecuted the Polish nation, but he has one merit – he took care of the Jewish problem for us (or on our behalf)."

Michał Głowiński was a courageous man because few, like him, experienced terror and fear, humiliation and helplessness, loneliness and alienation to such an extent. Yet, he not only managed to endure life against all odds but also could withstand the adversities that his saved life brought him. Today, we know this because he wrote about it himself, describing what it meant to live in the grip of double fear: the fear of being discovered as a Jew and the fear of discovering one's sexual orientation. So, life in hiding, much like the time spent in the potato pit or in the cellars of the ghetto during deportations. His scholarly work was his passion, providing a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction. As he wrote in "Kręgi obcości" (Circles of Alienation): "I didn't waste my youth." But, right next to those words, there are others. In a personal or even existential sense, concealing one's homosexuality during youth was the biggest mistake. "I poisoned my youth and, in fact, wasted it," he would write.

He grappled with a world tainted and distorted by the language used by authorities when addressing the people. He became a classic of Newspeak theory, introducing this term from Orwell into scientific language. He unraveled the cocoon of lies and stupidity, which is dangerous because it separates people from reality. With Benedictine patience, systematically, over a quarter of a century with a short break, he recorded his comments on words taken from the "dirty froth of newspapers" in the People's Republic of Poland. In the evenings, before falling asleep, he composed a gigantic, unique diary, whose subject is the communist-era jargon. His private notes became a testimony of that time and a defense of sovereign reason. Four and a half volumes have been published – as the author notes: "Marcowe gadanie" (March Chatter, 1991), "Peereliada" (Peereliaton, 1993), "Mowa w stanie oblężenia" (Speech Under Siege, 1996), "Końcówka" (The End, 1999), and notes from the years 1977-1985 in the volume "Pismak 1963 i inne szkice o różnych brzydkich rzeczach" (The Scribbler 1963 and Other Sketches on Various Ugly Things, 1995). A selection from this demystifying diary was published in 2016 under the title "Zła mowa. Jak nie dać się propagandzie" (Evil Speech. How Not to Fall for Propaganda). He analyzed Newspeak from the 1960s and tracked its various mutations even after 1989, speaking in interviews and writing about the recurrence of communist-era Newspeak in national-Catholic disguises. "I thought I would never publish this during my lifetime. I was mistaken. (...) I also believe that the fact that I undertook such work was one of the best decisions of my life" ("Kwartalnik Artystyczny" 2010/2).

He explored the degrading influence of totalitarian ideology on art, analyzing domestic Socialist Realism, as well as the foundational texts of Bolshevik communism ("Stalin the Sorcerer: On Totalitarian Fable," 1997; "The Dzerzhinsky Case," 2010, "Not Letting the Past Go Wild: A Short Course on the Communist Party of Bolsheviks as a Mythical Narrative," 1991) and the classic anti-Semitic forgery "The Protocols of the Elders of Zion" ("Poetics of Political Forgery," 2007). In this study, Głowiński writes: "It is worth studying the linguistic and literary properties of texts that are not literary works, have no aesthetic value, and often reach the level of disgrace." Furthermore, the author explains that these are publications that "played a shameful role in history, and it may not be a paradox to say that it is above all such elaborations that should be subjected to this type of scrutiny. (...) [In order] to reach the deepest meanings of such products—and bring to the surface those properties that allowed them to play such a disastrous role." This methodological directive takes on the dimension of moral duty and excellently characterizes Michał Głowiński's research and ethical attitude. In this call to study texts that are vile, loathsome, dripping with hatred, falsehood, and contempt, I try to remain faithful to my Master and Friend.

Emerging from one's fears and secrets towards others requires courage. The autobiography "Kręgi obcości" is a courageous book. Prepared earlier, the published prose of an autobiographical nature – "Czarne sezony" (Black Seasons, 1998), "Magdalenka z razowego chleba" (Magdalenka from Whole Grain Bread, 2001), "Historia jednej topoli" (The Story of a Poplar Tree, 2003), "Kładka nad czasem. Obrazki z miasteczka" (The Bridge Over Time: Sketches from a Small Town, 2006), "Carska filiżanka. Szesnaście opowieści" (The Tsar's Teacup: Sixteen Stories, 2016) – undoubtedly surpass it. However, this is not a story of alienation, although it was one of the dominant experiences in the author's life in various forms. This book is primarily a testament to the struggle with one's own weaknesses and phobias, inhibitions, or shame. It is evidence that although fear may accompany a person throughout their life, a person does not have to be a slave to fear. In his autobiography, Michał Głowiński is true to himself, and therefore, authentic. He frees himself from what he calls the clutches of double fear. So, this book describes the path to freedom.

The title of the autobiography, "Kręgi obcości" (Circles of Alienation), is, like many titles of his books, remarkable because it hits the mark. However, I cannot reconcile myself with its sound. For me, the concept of "presence" rather than "alienation" is the fundamental experience of encountering Michał Głowiński. I still draw on his works, as do countless students and researchers of literature, art, and public discourse. It's a strong presence that cannot be erased. It's a distinct individuality, a personality that cannot be imitated. Michał Głowiński has been present in my professional life (as the reviewer of my master's thesis, the supervisor of my doctoral dissertation, and the reviewer of my habilitation) for over forty years, but also in my social life. We met in the corridors of the Institute of Literary Research at the Staszic Palace, which he referred to as a paradoxical building. We met at his apartment on Batuty Street (Służew nad Dolinką), buried under books and records. We talked about various matters, trivial details, and "truly significant things." Now, in the face of his passing, I am convinced that this conversation has not ended; it has simply taken on a different form and is unfolding in another dimension. It's like an inner concert, as Michał spoke of...

Jacek Leociak – You often emphasize that you are a person without hearing. Is that so?

Michał Głowiński – Yes, that's true.

JL – In that case, tell me how is it possible, how can you – without hearing – for over seventy years, with such passion, so faithfully and systematically stick to music, listen to music, and gain such knowledge about music?

MG – I don't know. I can't sing anything, but it seems to me that when I was young, I had an excellent musical memory. I heard a piece once or twice, and if it had any characteristic features, and outstanding works do, then I recognized it. So there was something in me.

JL – You write that from a certain moment, an uninterrupted inner concert was taking place in you.

ML – It continues to this day.

[An excerpt from an interview I conducted with Michał Głowiński, "Autobiografia musi być kompromisem," Kwartalnik Artystyczny (Artistic Quarterly) 2010, No. 2]