Warsaw is rebuilding itself – but its foundations remain unstable

The Zlota 44 tower (2dL) and the Palace of Culture and Science (R), Poland's tallest building, in 2014. Image: Getty.

“Warsaw is being sliced up like a cake,” one resident told me bluntly, when I asked her what she made of the plethora of developments teeming across the city’s landscape. “We are in a mess.”

You wouldn’t necessarily think this was the case: to the unassuming tourist, Warsaw is undoubtedly blossoming. The impact from years of backbreaking oppression – first from the Nazis, who razed 85 per cent of the city to the ground, and then from the Communists – has all but disappeared, with a richer, more modern look cultivated in its place. Warsaw will soon be home to the tallest building in the EU, the Varso tower, and many other ground-breaking developments simmer away in offices and infrastructure departments.

Hidden beneath the surface, however, there’s a more complex picture, and residents are apprehensive about the city’s future. Swathed in the ice-blue of the countless skyscrapers which pepper its lukewarm skies, the rickety nature of Warsaw’s modernisation is a parasite which feeds liberally on the progress of development. And this has been disregarded by those in power to such an extent that it now encompasses issues from all fields of city life. The frantic desire for Warsaw to move as far away as possible from its downtrodden 20th century past has now exploded into internal quibbles, developmental nightmares, and slapdash construction, all sullied ever further with the overarching concern of Warsaw’s citizens, who feel that they are not being listened to.

The debates in Polish politics can be found in microcosm in the development of its capital, with strains between the governing Law & Justice (PiS) party and opposition Civic Platform (PO) bringing spats onto the very streets. PO is the mayor of Warsaw’s party – and, by a small majority, the dominant force in the city council. But tensions with PiS in the city have been exacerbated with the reprivatisation affair, a cataclysmic concern that has been rumbling on since the end of the war.

The Bierut Decree of 1945 transferred all of Warsaw’s property and land into state ownership to expedite its reconstruction; owners were promised being that their property would one day be returned, if they so desired. But individuals’ claims have been repeatedly unfulfilled, and the system has been marred with scandals and PO implicated in dubious dealings – prompting increased activity by PiS in city management. With local elections later this year, all is still up for debate.


The reprivatisation issue is still a shady one to Poles – but what this means for Warsaw’s development is far more concerning. Land has become a burden, and developers fear spectres of age-old claims to property; a fear manifested in a culture of uncertainty, with allegations of developer corruption bandied around by Warsaw’s residents. Though a recent development strategy for the city took into account thousands of citizens’ views, many told me they were anxious about the city’s heritage, claiming weak laws for protection of history threaten the last vestiges of its past.

Journalist and resident Ronald Smit told me that “the few characteristic buildings Warsaw had left are being demolished at high speed”. This is an issue which has, in fact, ravaged the area since 1945, when swathes of the city centre, some undamaged by war, were demolished for the erection of the Palace of Culture and Science.

Another bone of contention is public space. The focus on construction has eclipsed wider, more social matters, with one citizen telling me that “the way things are going every street is going to resemble the Grzybowska corridor,” a vastly overdeveloped area of Warsaw. Tacked on to the concerns about a lack of city planning, there is worry that constructors are failing to consider the parts of the city left when new builds are created.

One development which attempted to actively combat these tensions is the recently built Warsaw Spire. Jeroen van der Toolen, managing director for central Europe with developer Ghelamco, told me that the company’s mission had been “to bring this part of the city back to life... It was crucial for us that it would contribute to increasing the quality of life and work in the city.”

He believes the city’s development can coexist with its history, claiming that the area is more “metropolitan” as a result. And Warsaw has, of course, always striven for rejuvenation, a process which has earnt it the name ‘the Phoenix City’. As resident Phil Goss told me,

“When I came to Poland in January 1991, the Warsaw Metro was still, quite literally, just a hole in the ground... The country just wasn’t ready for business. In the intervening 27 years we’ve seen many changes... Warsaw was rebuilt as a city for the future... That future is now.”

And certainly, despite deep-rooted complications, the city is trying its best – with successes particularly seen on the level of transport. Michał Grobelny, a spokesperson with the Warsaw Public Transport authority, explained that the public transport network is expanding annually. Construction of M2, a new east-west metro line, is ongoing.

But the development has been hit with a complication found across most projects modernising the city: that of archeological discoveries. Grobelny told me that construction workers had “transported 450 pieces of ammunition from the site, including over 100 artillery shells. The construction of the subway was therefore suspended for a total of 16 times.”

It is certainly true that remnants of the past eventually find their way to those ice-blues surface of Warsaw’s development. For residents, politicians and constructors, the history of the city remains of paramount importance to its future: Phil Goss claims that “it will take a lot more than new buildings to make Warsaw lose its identity, its history, its past.”

But if Warsaw cannot negotiate its relationship to its past successfully, then its future may always be under threat.

 
 
 
 

These maps of petition signatories show which bits of the country are most enthusiastic about scrapping Brexit

The Scottish bit. Image: UK Parliament.

As anyone in the UK who has been near an internet connection today will no doubt know, there’s a petition on Parliament’s website doing the rounds. It rejects Theresa May’s claim – inevitably, and tediously, repeated again last night – that Brexit is the will of the people, and calls on the government to end the current crisis by revoking Article 50. At time of writing it’s had 1,068,554 signatures, but by the time you read this it will definitely have had quite a lot more.

It is depressingly unlikely to do what it sets out to do, of course: the Prime Minister is not in listening mode, and Leader of the House Andrea Leadsom has already been seen snarking that as soon as it gets 17.4m votes, the same number that voted Leave in 2016, the government will be sure to give it due care and attention.

So let’s not worry about whether or not the petition will be successful and instead look at some maps.

This one shows the proportion of voters in each constituency who have so far signed the petition: darker colours means higher percentages. The darkest constituencies tend to be smaller, because they’re urban areas with a higher population density. (As with all the maps in this piece, they come via Unboxed, who work with the Parliament petitions team.)

And it’s clear the petition is most popular in, well, exactly the sort of constituencies that voted for Remain three years ago: Cambridge (5.1 per cent), Bristol West (5.6 per cent), Brighton Pavilion (5.7 per cent) and so on. Hilariously, Jeremy Corbyn’s Islington North is also at 5.1 per cent, the highest in London, despite its MP clearly having remarkably little interest in revoking article 50.

By the same token, the sort of constituencies that aren’t signing this thing are – sit down, this may come as a shock – the sort of places that tended to vote Leave in 2016. Staying with the London area, the constituencies of the Essex fringe (Ilford South, Hornchurch & Upminster, Romford) are struggling to break 1 per cent, and some (Dagenham & Rainham) have yet to manage half that. You can see similar figures out west by Heathrow.

And you can see the same pattern in the rest of the country too: urban and university constituencies signing in droves, suburban and town ones not bothering. The only surprise here is that rural ones generally seem to be somewhere in between.

The blue bit means my mouse was hovering over that constituency when I did the screenshot, but I can’t be arsed to redo.

One odd exception to this pattern is the West Midlands, where even in the urban core nobody seems that bothered. No idea, frankly, but interesting, in its way:

Late last year another Brexit-based petition took off, this one in favour of No Deal. It’s still going, at time of writing, albeit only a third the size of the Revoke Article 50 one and growing much more slowly.

So how does that look on the map? Like this:

Unsurprisingly, it’s a bit of an inversion of the new one: No Deal is most popular in suburban and rural constituencies, while urban and university seats don’t much fancy it. You can see that most clearly by zooming in on London again:

Those outer east London constituencies in which people don’t want to revoke Article 50? They are, comparatively speaking, mad for No Deal Brexit.

The word “comparatively” is important here: far fewer people have signed the No Deal one, so even in those Brexit-y Essex fringe constituencies, the actual number of people signing it is pretty similar the number saying Revoke. But nonetheless, what these two maps suggest to me is that the new political geography revealed by the referendum is still largely with us.


In the 20 minutes it’s taken me to write this, the number of signatures on the Revoke Article 50 has risen to 1,088,822, by the way. Will of the people my arse.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and on Facebook as JonnElledgeWrites.

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