Dr Tomasz Snarski from the Faculty of Law and Administration UG is a specialist in criminal law, a poet, and a philosopher. His first book of poetry published in a foreign language has recently appeared on the publishing market. It was translated into Lithuanian by Birutė Jonuškaitė - poet, journalist, and Lithuanian Writers’ Union president. We encourage you to read the interview, in which we discuss, among other things, Polish-Lithuanian friendship and poetry that unites.

Elżbieta Michalak-Witkowska: You are a lawyer specialising in criminal law. You try to combine it with mercy, with the logic of empathy, cooperation, community, goodness, and love. It's quite an unusual approach because, after all, people talk about the 'hard letter of the law'. Please tell us about it.

Dr Tomasz Snarski: Law, including criminal law, can have many facets. That is why critically reflecting on the current paradigms, certain basic assumptions, and fundamental principles is so important. I believe that today we should reflect on the direction in which criminal law will develop. It has gone through various stages of historical development. In a nutshell, it can be said that it has travelled from revenge and retaliation to a rational, multi-track criminal response. Standards such as the principles of legalism or the humanism of criminal law are not given once and for all. Hence the question: which way will the criminal law of the future go? There are many proposals for an answer. Some point out that the future of punishment will change radically under the influence of the new technologies development - one can see here the effect of posthumanism in thinking about law. However, I would like to reflect on justice and humanity in law. Is the current state really optimal? Or is it possible (or even desirable) to deepen an understanding of dignity and humanism in criminal law? I think one of the options is an attempt to adapt the concept of mercy to criminal law, which involves an entirely different distribution of emphasis. We punish for the person's sake and focus on forgiveness, reconciliation, and righting wrongs wherever possible. We give everyone another chance. Such a direction reinforces the various concepts of restorative justice already widely present in the science of criminal law and criminology. It also poses a radical challenge to traditional conceptions of criminal justice and, at the same time, offers hope for countering the inhumane, populist tendencies currently favoured by the Polish legislature.

EMW: You are also a poet. Again, the combination of poetry and law seems peculiar, although history shows this was not uncommon. Tuwim, Brzechwa, Leśmian and Gombrowicz were associated with legal professions. What is it like with the intermingling of the two crafts/occupations?

TS: I would add Czesław Miłosz to the people you mentioned. He was a poet, Nobel Prize winner, and great humanist of the 20th century – but few remember that he had graduated in law from the Faculty of Law and Social Sciences at the Stefan Batory University in Vilnius. So I console myself with the fact that since Miłosz was a poet and a lawyer, I guess the combination of poetry and law is not so extravagant. And seriously, it is worth noting that legal problems often centre around the same subjects as the most important philosophical issues and literary themes. Free will, individuality, humanity, dilemmas of conscience between the dictates of law and morality, and responsibility for indifference to the harm of others – to name a few. One could go on and on. When I wrote my first volume of poetry, Przezpatrzenia, I realised that it was worthwhile to take up subjects close to me and then set them in universal categories, available to everyone for reflection. Hence, the path from law to poetry became apparent to me. Poetry can be such a tool through which we look closer, deeper, clearer. It enables us to ask questions that cannot be specified in scientific reflection. I could say that reflection on the law, understood far more broadly and deeply than the written pages of statutes, was the natural beginning of my entry into the literary world.

EMW: There is less and less legal reflection in each successive volume of your authorship.

TS: Yes, I have become more open to other tropes, also close to me, such as identity, transience, our existence in the world, or tenderness. Undoubtedly, philosophy has also helped me in my poetic endeavours. I believe poetry is a way to go beyond the fences of one's own world, communicate with others, and observe closely. And at the same time, this going out must be done by going into ourselves; it must not mean giving up who we are. This is the actual power of poetry: when by discovering a piece of our individual history, we can see universal situations in it. We get something unique and repetitive at the same time, something graspable and intangible, something for the 'here and now' and something 'everywhere and forever', something almost imperceptible and yet most important. To write a good poem is actually to do something impossible thanks to words and their meanings.

I also owe you an answer to the question about combining poetry and the craft of law. Well, I believe every good lawyer should be a humanist in the strict sense of the word. I cannot imagine a formalist lawyer who knows all the paragraphs but is incapable of reflecting on human fate and humanity itself. We must keep this in mind also in the education and upbringing of young generations of lawyers.

EMW: You refer to Vilnius in your work and have special ties with Lithuania. A similar attitude is displayed by Birutė Jonuškaitė - a poet, prose writer, essayist and translator, who is equally committed to maintaining the Polish-Lithuanian literary dialogue and who translated your latest volume of poetry into Lithuanian. Please tell us more about this Polish-Lithuanian literary cooperation.

TS: The simplest answer would be that I cherish the Vilnius roots of a part of my family. My grandmother was born in Vilnius, and one of my great-grandfathers Marcin Bakszas was Lithuanian (and additionally, an Evangelical). Since childhood, I have listened attentively to the story of a family from Vilnius, who were able to build a bond of love despite differences in culture and religion. Perhaps this is also the reason for my fascination with the issue of multiculturalism in law and philosophy, although it is already a topic for a separate conversation. At the same time, I would like to emphasise that Vilnius and Lithuania are not just sentimental memories in my life. Through my socio-cultural activities, I have made many friends in Vilnius and established relationships lasting for years. Vilnius is present in my life almost every day. I am a volunteer at the Blessed Father Michał Sopoćko Hospice in Vilnius. I belong to the Association of Polish Scientists in Lithuania. I am constantly publishing in the quarterly ‘Znad Wilii’ and the magazine ‘Kurier Wileński’. In addition, various artistic activities are centred around the environment of 'Znad Wilii' and the International Poetry Festival 'May on the Vilnia River'. Vilnius motifs are also present in my academic work. In 2020, I published a book in the series Horyzonty Filozofii Prawa (Horizons of the Philosophy of Law) dedicated to the person and thought of prof. Bronisław Wróblewski, who was one of the most eminent Polish criminal law scholars and a lecturer at Stefan Batory University. I dedicated this book to the former and present inhabitants of Vilnius. By the way, it is worth mentioning that Czesław Miłosz was a student of criminal law under ... Bronisław Wróblewski – and it was these lectures that (among few in the area of law) he recalled as highly inspiring. As you can see, my life is permeated by Vilnius, whether in poetry, law, or social activities. And I would like to see the Gdańsk-Vilnius and, more broadly, the Polish-Lithuanian ties constantly developing.

EMW: Do you see any ground for developing this cooperation?

TS: A great example in the field of local government is the partnership between Vilnius and Gdańsk as sister (partner) cities, resulting in the annual festivals 'Vilnius in Gdańsk' and 'Gdańsk in Vilnius'. Perhaps it would also be worthwhile for our academic community to open up more widely to Lithuanian culture, if only in the context of Baltic humanism. My point is that the roots of European humanism are not, after all, exclusively Mediterranean. Our common Polish-Lithuanian heritage and analogous historical experiences, for example, in the fight against communism, can (and even should) become a source of reflection and be cherished. I would like to add that the concept of mercy might be such a iunctim. Vilnius is a city of mercy, and Gdańsk is a city of solidarity. If you take a moment to think about it, you can safely exchange solidarity for mercy (and vice versa) to see how much we have in common. I know that not only do many of our university’s lecturers have various ties to Vilnius and Lithuania, but many of our students are young people who have chosen Gdańsk as their place of education. Let's use this potential!

EMW: Ms Jonuškaitė, how do you see Polish-Lithuanian cooperation? What are your ties to Poland, to Gdańsk?

Birutė Jonuškaitė: I am Lithuanian born in Poland. As a writer and translator, I came to Gdańsk for the first time several years ago as part of the 'Vilnius in Gdańsk' festival. I got to know the organisers of the festival both in Gdańsk and in Vilnius. During our discussions, we concluded that too little attention is paid to literature at this festival. Then dr Tomasz Snarski started working on the programme of the Gdańsk festival, which subsequently took on a completely different form. In addition to the traditional fair with sausages, souvenirs, Lithuanian bread and folk songs, there was a proper place for the presentation of Lithuanian literature and discussions on various important issues for Gdańsk and Vilnius. In recent years, more and more Lithuanian writers have had the opportunity to participate in this festival. I myself have presented two of my novels that have been published in Poland. I am talking about 'Maranta' (2020) and 'Maestro' (2022). Likewise, we organise a literary meeting on the works of Polish writers every year as part of the festival in Vilnius.

EMW: You are making efforts to maintain the Polish-Lithuanian literary dialogue. Why do you think this is so important?

BJ: I want to emphasise that every form of cooperation is important, in every field of culture and art, because these are naturally built bridges between people allowing us to get to know each other. Literary dialogue is an excellent building material. It has been 30 years since our state relations were re-established, but knowledge about Lithuania in Poland is rather scarce. I am sure that certain stereotypes are handed down from generation to generation, and only a long-term effort to bring Poles and Lithuanians closer together, to introduce them to each other, can wipe these strange stereotypes from consciousness and create a field for a completely new dialogue.  Much work must be done in animating culture; there is a need for invisible, everyday care which bears fruit only after some time. That is why for years, I have been co-organising cyclic meetings of writers from Vilnius and Lublin, Polish-Lithuanian translation seminars ('Literary Seminars' in Krasnogruda), and taking part in the 'May on the Vilnia River' and 'Vilnius in Gdańsk' festivals. And I am thrilled that our fantastic translators and interpreters of Lithuanian literature into Polish have actively participated in this bridge-building over the past decades. At last, our writers are being read in Polish; they are also appreciated and invited to meetings that allow readers to discover today's Lithuania, not only the one from the time of Adam Mickiewicz.

EMW: Doctor, you have recently published a volume of poems in Lithuania entitled ‘Žiemos visada bus baltos’ (‘Winters will always be white’), translated by Birutė Jonuškaitė. This is your first book of poetry in a foreign language. What contributed to its creation?

TS: My poems have so far been translated into various languages: Japanese, English, Spanish, and Lithuanian. However, 'Žiemos visada bus baltos' is indeed my first poetry book in a foreign language. I am delighted it was published in Lithuanian, as I love Lithuania and consider it my second homeland. This book contains almost all the poems from my three volumes of poetry so far. I am happy that Birutė Jonuškaitė has taken on the task of translation (which is always a considerable challenge in the case of poetry). When we read my poems in Polish and Lithuanian at author meetings in Lithuania, the audience often praised the quality of the translation. I think that some of my poems sound much better in Lithuanian, maybe because there is also a 'Lithuanian soul' in them, hidden somewhere between nature and civilisation. I also dream that another translation of my poems will be published in Italian. Maybe it will be possible this year, especially as quite a few of my poems were written during my travels in southern Italy.

EMW: Translations, primarily literary ones, can be challenging. Ms Jonuškaitė, what was your most significant difficulty when translating the works that make up the volume ‘Žiemos visada bus’ into Lithuanian?

BJ: Tomasz Snarski is a fascinating, multithreaded poet, a great lover of Vilnius in a completely different sense than the one that has been stuck in the consciousness of Poles for years. Because he has Polish-Lithuanian roots and the broad views of an intellectual, he perceives our shared history and the concept of Vilnius as the capital of Lithuania differently. He is a friend of the Lithuanians, not their 'big brother'.  He is also a philosopher, an excellent theologian, and of course, a lawyer. All the knowledge he has in each of these fields is reflected in his poetry. There are some hidden allusions and insinuations that the translator can only intuit but will not be sure of understanding the author's thoughts. There are quite a few such difficult poems, where certain puzzles, easy to grasp only for experts in these fields, are composed in layers. My translator into Polish, Agnieszka Rembiałkowska, says that ‘translation should at least be an attempt of a meeting between humans, that is, an attempt of communication’. I am fortunate that I could often communicate with Tomasz, not only in my thoughts and reflections on his work but also directly, by going through each poem together. Then he would give me long ‘lectures’, for example on the concept of haecceity... And then there are the linguistic matters. Because it is not only the content of the poem that matters but also the way the author uses his language, the way he makes use of his wordplay. There were some untranslatable places because what is present in Polish vocabulary from other languages, such as Latin, does not always have an equivalent in Lithuanian. It was fascinating work, I learnt a lot about philosophy, theology, and law, and I had to solve language puzzles.

EMW: Your literary output is vibrant: seven volumes of short stories, six novels, numerous essays and literary sketches, and books of poems written in Polish and Lithuanian. What motif inspires you the most? Is there something that you often return to in your work?

BJ: Certainly, the borderland often appears in my work, in the words of Agnieszka Rembiałkowska, 'not necessarily only the Polish-Lithuanian one, but as a theme, as a clash and interpenetration of cultures, as a model of identity, an "in-between" or "poly-mental" mentality’. Of course, important to me is the theme of a small homeland from which one can never move away. I constantly return to the Sejny region, where I consciously and unconsciously draw all my creative energy from. My work also attempts to find answers to questions that have kept me busy since I was young: questions of morality, faith, love, history, biculturalism. But after all, these are universal themes. Like many writers, I try to capture life in all its sensual diversity, understand the dual nature of human beings, and not lose the ability to wonder and admire the world.