Lech Walesa learned the power of speaking his mind in the glory days of Solidarity by Tony Parkinson 2:50pm 1st Nov, 2003   November 1, 2003 ( Published by The Age)    Lech Walesa learned the power of speaking his mind in the glory days of Solidarity. It earned him prominence in the history pages of the 20th century as one of the courageous voices in the fall of the formidable Soviet Empire.    It has also landed him in trouble. In 1980, as a fretful Polish communist leadership declared martial law, Walesa's pithy rallying cries to the Gdansk shipyards workers resulted in his arrest by the secret police and internment for nearly a year.    Almost a quarter of a century on, the son of peasant farmers who went on to become Poland's first non-communist president has not lost the habit of stating bluntly what he thinks - with no apologies, or beg pardons.    In an interview with The Age, during his first visit to Australia, the man who set in train events that led to the collapse of communism in Europe spoke resentfully of a "totally disorganised world system" in the aftermath of the Cold War.    He worries about the impact on the global order of a rampant American superpower. "It's become the policeman that stands at the red light stopping anyone doing anything whatever."    He mourns the failings of the United Nations: "It has the co-operation of the whole world but it is bureaucratic, inefficient and unwieldy."    He is incensed by al-Qaeda's ideology of terror and glad that, after September 11, the US responded decisively: "America has saved the world. These madmen would have burned everything down." Yet he remains sceptical about the Bush Administration's follow-up project, beginning with Iraq, to transform the Middle East into a string of happy, smiling democracies.    "Structures and institutions can be built," he said. "But these must be reconciled with the mentality of the people. This aspect of democracy is like learning to swim. You can read all the books and listen to the teacher. But if you jump in at the deep end you will probably drown."    Having just celebrated his 60th birthday, Walesa's trademark moustache is silvery these days. He is squat and pot-bellied, but no less robust for that.    As he bustled into an interview at his Melbourne hotel, there would be no small talk. "Let's have it. First question," he demanded through interpreter, Dr George Luk, Poland's honorary consul in Melbourne.    Forty-five minutes later, the interview was running overtime. Walesa was sometimes grinning, sometimes joking - but mostly he was sober and surly as he pondered how to rectify a gloomily uncertain global security outlook.    Walesa favours extensive UN reform as the best way forward. Failing that, he does not object to the superpower's role as a "court of last resort". But he signalled distaste for some Americans who overdose on chauvinism about the strengths of their own system of government and its suitability for other cultures.    He recalled with amusement his conversations on university campuses (always via translations) during his regular lecture tours of the US. "When I hear it mentioned that Americans live in a system in which anybody can become president, I often pose this question: does any one of you have the $100 million you need to start a presidential race? Don't tell me about this democracy. You have the right to democracy, but there are always things to be questioned."    If Walesa sees many flaws in the US political system, how does he assess democracy Polish-style, given his own remarkably rapid exit from power in 1995?    This was the election debacle that appears to have put Walesa's political career into permanent eclipse. The gruff, street-fighting streak he brought to office didn't always endear him to voters, or even some of his own supporters. In the campaign, he confessed to the Polish people he had been "obnoxious at times".    Too late. Having assumed the presidency triumphantly in 1990, Walesa suffered the ignominy of being bundled out of office by a former communist, Aleksander Kwasniewski, who had reinvented himself as a suave, articulate and well organised political operator. Poland's popular hero, the electrician from Gdansk, would be trounced at successive elections. At this point, Walesa turns the blowtorch on himself: "The things I stand for didn't lose. I did."
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