Matthew Day : Some 30 years on, Solidarity split by bitter infighting

Back in August 1980, a stream of iconic images came out of Poland. Many were of a small electrician with a big moustache, little known outside his native land, standing under a memorable red and white banner bearing the logo of a trade union.

The diminutive worker was Lech Walesa, the logo belonged to Solidarity and together they were shaking to the core the seemingly indestructible edifice of communist rule in eastern Europe in an astonishing display of defiance.

On 31 August 1980, Solidarity became the communist bloc's first free trade union, and the world would never be the same. Solidarity's rise made evident that the communist system was living on borrowed time. Despite claiming to support the people, the system not only failed to represent the people, the people wanted rid of it, and the clock was ticking.

Thirty years on you would think that Walesa, his old colleagues and Poland as a whole would be celebrating their achievements in style. But nothing could be further from the truth. Walesa, 66, has stayed away from all the parties being held in honour of Solidarity's achievements, saying he didn't "feel like celebrating", while other old comrades have argued furiously with each other about the past and its legacy.

In an interview this week, Walesa said: "My character is such that I work for today and for tomorrow. I am not too much interested in the past, and I am leaving it to historians and other professionals. I am more interested in what's next with Poland, what's next with Europe, what's next with globalisation."

In many ways it is natural for arguments to occur between people who once marched together under the Solidarity banner. The original organisation was a genuine mass movement that millions of Poles happily joined, bringing with them a plethora of goals and aspirations. With such a broad church differences in opinions are bound to appear. But what has astounded Poles is the bitterness of these differences.

Walesa has attacked Solidarity - still going as a trade union - for being too political and indulging in internecine squabbles that soil both its historic legacy and achievements. On a number of occasions, he has called for the name Solidarity and its famous logo to be retired, so it can be revered in the history books and museums.

In turn, some of Solidarity's old rank and file suspect Walesa of selling them and their revolution out in a 1989 deal he brokered with the communists for Poland's transition to democracy. Some, most notably Jaroslaw Kaczynski, a former Solidarity activist and prime minister, have even gone as far as suggesting that Walesa was in fact a communist spy.That accusation makes the former shipyard worker bristle with indignation.

To make matters worse, Walesa suspects Mr Kaczynski of trying subvert his role in Solidarity in order to promote the idea that he, and his Law and Justice party, are the true upholders of both the union's legacy and values.

Such is the gulf that now exists between Walesa and Solidarity that many people believed the union's former leader stayed away from a special Solidarity conference this week for fear of being booed by members.

It was a wise move. Donald Tusk, Poland's prime minister who also cut his political teeth in Solidarity, was subjected to heckling from members as the seminar - designed to spotlight the union's glorious achievements - dissolved into a sea of bitter recriminations.

A speech by Mr Kaczynski got cheered by current Solidarity members while ranks of former dissidents sat silent and stony faced.

Henryka Krzywonos, a respected woman who played a key role as an activist in the 1980 strikes, launched a furious attack on Mr Kaczynski and the current leadership of Solidarity, accusing them of have no respect for the past and talking "manure".

The passion of the arguments reveal, that although 30 years have now passed, the ideals and the legacy of Solidarity retain a potent symbolism in Poland that some would like to protect, some possess and other dispute.

This is a shame. Solidarity helped change the world, and Poles should feel nothing but pride about that. While the union's role in history remains undisputed, the squabbles and arguments that have followed threaten to tarnish its achievements.