I'm very nervous. I'm not here with you today as prime minister, or at least not exclusively in that role. I'm as nervous as I was when, well, almost half a century ago, I received the news from Bogdan Borusewicz. Antoni Mężydło rode up to me on his bike and told me I had to replace Adam Michnik at a meeting in one of the student dorms in Gdańsk's Brzeźno district. Antek Mężydło came to my house and said, "Adam's been busted. Someone has to lead the meeting because we can't cancel this meeting. And you're writing your master's thesis about Piłsudski." So what can you say about Piłsudski, so people aren't disappointed? Gosia, my wife, decided to speed up work on the sweater. She was knitting it because she said I had to look good for the occasion. The next evening, I showed up at the student dorm in Brzeźno. And there was a group of student activists from the independent trade unions there. Of course, Bogdan. Hmm. And it was announced that, dear friends, we are all here to hear Adam Michnik's lecture, but unfortunately, Adam won't be there because he's been arrested. But we do have Donald Tusk. He will say something about Piłsudski. I heard such a groan of disappointment, and I was so excited. It wasn't a particularly successful debut for me in such a political public address, but it later turned out to be one of the most important moments of my life.
I am here with you on behalf of all those who are indebted to you, meaning millions and millions of Poles, because we are all indebted to you. And I say this not because we are having this wonderful celebration today. I say this because I had the genuine honor and great pleasure of participating, in some small way, in the actions you undertook back when it was truly difficult. And to this day, over these 50 years, nothing can overshadow or be more valuable to me in public life than that experience, those secret meetings, the fear of being locked up, and that extraordinary—still written with a lowercase "s" then—Solidarity. I remember vividly that Gdańsk community collaborating with KOR, and there were people with very different views there. This later transferred to Solidarity. There was a moment, and it was what they call public happiness. A moment when everyone felt that the word "Poland" was equally beautiful and important to each of us. Such diverse figures created KOR. You probably still don't know how much hope you managed to instill in the hearts of people like me. Back then, completely anonymous. I was deeply affected by 1976 in Gdańsk, because there was nothing to be concerned about. I remember like it was yesterday when they tried to herd us to Długi Targ, that our class rebelled as part of the condemnation of the Radom troublemakers. I was in my final year of high school at the time. In Gdańsk, my generation was deeply grounded in the fundamentals of what is evil and what is good. Thanks to our conscious participation in the December events, even though we were children, we were sad that no one in Gdańsk took up the uprising from Radom and Ursus. I feared that we would face another few years of such sadness. And when the news reached Gdańsk that the Workers' Defence Committee (KOR) had been established, and then various events and meetings followed, even if this mission seemed a bit romantic, a bit hopeless—in fact, few people believed we would live to see independence back then—perhaps that's also why it was so appealing, especially for my generation, people who were just finishing high school or starting university. It was so incredible that even before this great solidarity emerged, I had the good fortune to experience a reality that was genuine, created by honest, courageous people. I know I can't talk much today, and I could talk about those years for hours, because, as I said, it's the greatest souvenir of my entire life. But I want you to know, especially those of you who truly founded and built this great Polish Solidarity, and before it was born, truly bore witness to courage and true patriotism. Without shouts, without grand and lofty speeches, more often in prison than in freedom. I want you to know that you are still a treasure to this nation, even if not everyone understands it. Truly the greatest treasure, and that we will never repay you. Not medals, not an academy, nothing. Nothing will suffice. But I really wanted you to know that you are not alone. And I, too, am certain that I am not alone in this, in this memory of what you gave to all Poles and to our homeland. And today, your lesson is the fact that you are here, and that thanks to you, the people who have something to say in Poland today, we feel that the same thing is still at stake, that when it comes to fundamental matters, nothing has changed, and that we must be selfless in the face of opportunism, that we must be courageous in the face of cowardice, that we must be decent when indecency triumphs. And we must speak out when the majority wants to remain silent and speak the truth. And what is most important to me today—and I would like you to truly believe this and take this seriously—is that I will do everything in my power. But I am convinced that future generations will also do everything in their power to ensure that this great treasure, this memory of wonderful people, of this extraordinary achievement, always remains an inspiration for those for whom words like homeland, freedom, and patriotism hold sacred meanings and are never associated with contempt, hatred, or disregard. You helped the weak, you helped the oppressed, and you paid a very high price for it. You proved to be not only romantics, but political geniuses, because it is thanks to you that Poland is independent. This seemingly naive romanticism of yours proved to be a brilliant strategy. There has never been anything like it in Polish history, where so many owed so little. And I thank you so much for freedom and solidarity, and for the fact that this hope never died in Poles. Thank you.
