Swedish word of the day: polsk riksdag
The literal translation of today's phrase of the day is "Polish parliament". Why is this a phrase in Swedish, and what does it mean?
A polsk riksdag (literally: "Polish parliament") is a Swedish term for a chaotic, disordered meeting where no consensus is reached. The phrase polsk riksdag can therefore be used to describe any kind of chaotic situation where many people are talking over each other, or even a situation where a large group of people are trying to decide on something but can't agree.
If you and a group of friends wanted to go out for some drinks and were trying to decide which bar to go to, but everyone in the group kept suggesting a different place and refusing to listen to each other, you could complain that the situation had turned into a polsk riksdag.
The phrase also exists in other countries close to Poland, including Danish (polsk rigsdag), Finnish (Puolalainen parlamentti), Norwegian (polsk riksdag), German (Polnischer Reichstag) and Russian (Polskij parlament).
So, why does this phrase exist? Do Swedes think that Polish people are chaotic and disorganised?
Well, no. The phrase does, however, have its roots in Polish parliamentary history. It all goes back to the Polish parliament of the 17th and 18th centuries, referred to as the sejm (the term sejm literally means "gathering" in Polish, and has since 1918 referred only to the lower house of Poland's bicameral parliament).
In the Kingdom of Poland, the sejm was the general term for parliament as a whole, made up of the chamber of deputies, the Senate and the King.
In the 1600s, during the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the sejm adopted a principle stating that all Polish noblemen were equal, and that every member of the sejm therefore had an absolute veto. This meant that, in order for the sejm to adopt any policy, all members must be in complete agreement, which obviously made it extremely difficult to pass any laws which were even slightly controversial.
The Polish Sejm back in 1622. Photo: Jakub Lauri, scanned by Polaco77/Wikimedia Commons
By the 1660s, this principle had given Poland's parliament a reputation as the most chaotic in Europe.
All a representative had to do was say (or, as was often the case, shout) the phrase nie pozwalam! (I do not approve it!) or Latin sisto activitatem (I stop the activity!) in order to veto any proposal.
This free veto (Latin: liberum veto), did not just veto the proposal being discussed, but it forced an immediate end to the current session and voided any legislation which had already been passed in that session. This got so out of hand that in 1688, parliament was dissolved before representatives had even started negotiating.
As many as 53 of the roughly 150 sejms held between 1573 and 1763 failed to pass any legislation at all, mostly because of this free veto.
Furthermore, the system was vulnerable to outside influence. All a neighbouring state with bad intentions had to do was bribe one member of parliament to veto any attempts to modernise Poland. Russia and Prussia were particularly notorious for doing this.
Eventually, things got so bad that the Polish government was on the brink of collapse, until finally, in 1791, the free veto was abolished, establishing the principle of majority rule.
Grzegorz Ekiert, political scientist at Harvard, blames the free veto system for the ultimate collapse of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1795, writing the following: "The principle of the liberum veto preserved the feudal features of Poland's political system, weakened the role of the monarchy, led to anarchy in political life, and contributed to the economic and political decline of the Polish state. Such a situation made the country vulnerable to foreign invasions and ultimately led to its collapse."
So, keep that in mind next time you're in a chaotic business meeting where no one can come to an agreement on anything, although it's probably a good idea to avoid shouting nie pozwalam in an attempt to put an end to the chaos.
Example sentences:
Det blev en riktig polsk riksdag igår, ingen kunde komma överens om var vi skulle äta.
It turned into a real Polish parliament yesterday, no one could agree on where we should eat.
Men snälla, kan ni inte sluta prata i munnen på varann? Det är en polsk riksdag härinne!
Please, can't you stop talking over each other? It's a Polish parliament in here!
Villa, Volvo, Vovve: The Local’s Word Guide to Swedish Life, written by The Local’s journalists, is now available to order. Head to lysforlag.com/vvv to read more about it. It is also possible to buy your copy from Amazon US, Amazon UK, Bokus or Adlibris.
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A polsk riksdag (literally: "Polish parliament") is a Swedish term for a chaotic, disordered meeting where no consensus is reached. The phrase polsk riksdag can therefore be used to describe any kind of chaotic situation where many people are talking over each other, or even a situation where a large group of people are trying to decide on something but can't agree.
If you and a group of friends wanted to go out for some drinks and were trying to decide which bar to go to, but everyone in the group kept suggesting a different place and refusing to listen to each other, you could complain that the situation had turned into a polsk riksdag.
The phrase also exists in other countries close to Poland, including Danish (polsk rigsdag), Finnish (Puolalainen parlamentti), Norwegian (polsk riksdag), German (Polnischer Reichstag) and Russian (Polskij parlament).
So, why does this phrase exist? Do Swedes think that Polish people are chaotic and disorganised?
Well, no. The phrase does, however, have its roots in Polish parliamentary history. It all goes back to the Polish parliament of the 17th and 18th centuries, referred to as the sejm (the term sejm literally means "gathering" in Polish, and has since 1918 referred only to the lower house of Poland's bicameral parliament).
In the Kingdom of Poland, the sejm was the general term for parliament as a whole, made up of the chamber of deputies, the Senate and the King.
In the 1600s, during the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the sejm adopted a principle stating that all Polish noblemen were equal, and that every member of the sejm therefore had an absolute veto. This meant that, in order for the sejm to adopt any policy, all members must be in complete agreement, which obviously made it extremely difficult to pass any laws which were even slightly controversial.
By the 1660s, this principle had given Poland's parliament a reputation as the most chaotic in Europe.
All a representative had to do was say (or, as was often the case, shout) the phrase nie pozwalam! (I do not approve it!) or Latin sisto activitatem (I stop the activity!) in order to veto any proposal.
This free veto (Latin: liberum veto), did not just veto the proposal being discussed, but it forced an immediate end to the current session and voided any legislation which had already been passed in that session. This got so out of hand that in 1688, parliament was dissolved before representatives had even started negotiating.
As many as 53 of the roughly 150 sejms held between 1573 and 1763 failed to pass any legislation at all, mostly because of this free veto.
Furthermore, the system was vulnerable to outside influence. All a neighbouring state with bad intentions had to do was bribe one member of parliament to veto any attempts to modernise Poland. Russia and Prussia were particularly notorious for doing this.
Eventually, things got so bad that the Polish government was on the brink of collapse, until finally, in 1791, the free veto was abolished, establishing the principle of majority rule.
Grzegorz Ekiert, political scientist at Harvard, blames the free veto system for the ultimate collapse of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1795, writing the following: "The principle of the liberum veto preserved the feudal features of Poland's political system, weakened the role of the monarchy, led to anarchy in political life, and contributed to the economic and political decline of the Polish state. Such a situation made the country vulnerable to foreign invasions and ultimately led to its collapse."
So, keep that in mind next time you're in a chaotic business meeting where no one can come to an agreement on anything, although it's probably a good idea to avoid shouting nie pozwalam in an attempt to put an end to the chaos.
Example sentences:
Det blev en riktig polsk riksdag igår, ingen kunde komma överens om var vi skulle äta.
It turned into a real Polish parliament yesterday, no one could agree on where we should eat.
Men snälla, kan ni inte sluta prata i munnen på varann? Det är en polsk riksdag härinne!
Please, can't you stop talking over each other? It's a Polish parliament in here!
Villa, Volvo, Vovve: The Local’s Word Guide to Swedish Life, written by The Local’s journalists, is now available to order. Head to lysforlag.com/vvv to read more about it. It is also possible to buy your copy from Amazon US, Amazon UK, Bokus or Adlibris.
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