Introducing Nowa Huta

The bastard child of a devastated post WWII Poland, the huge Socialist Realist suburb of Nowa Huta is the direct antithesis of everything cuddly Kraków is. Gargoyles and tourists? Not here. The Orwellian settlement of Nowa Huta is one of only two entirely pre-planned socialist realist cities ever built (the other being Magnitogorsk in Russia’s Ural Mountains), and one of the finest examples of deliberate social engineering in the world.

Funded by the Soviet Union, Nowa Huta swallowed up a huge swathe of ideal agricultural land, and the ancient village of Kościelniki (as well as parts of Mogiła and Krzesławice) in an attempt to create an in-yer-face proletarian opponent to intellectual, artsy-fartsy, fairytale Kraków. The decision to build NH was rubber stamped on May 17, 1947 and over the next few years construction of a model city for 100,000 people sprung up at breakneck speed. Built to impress, Nowa Huta featured wide, tree-lined avenues, parks, lakes and the officially sanctioned architectural style of the time - Socialist Realism. Nowa Huta’s architects strove to construct the ideal city, with ironic inspiration coming from the neighbourhood blocks built in 1920s New York (that despicable western metropolis). Careful planning was key, and the suburb was designed with ‘efficient mutual control' in mind: wide streets would prevent the spread of fire and the profusion of trees would easily soak up a nuclear blast, while the layout was such that the city could easily be turned into a fortress if it came under attack.

It was a massive task, with volunteer workers flocking from across Poland to take part in this bold project. Feats of personal sacrifice were rife and encouraged with one man, Piotr Ożański, publicly credited with laying an stupendous 33,000 bricks in one single day. For the workers life was tough; many were still sleeping in tents when the first winter arrived, and crime was rampant. Legends abounded of bodies being buried in foundations, and night was positively dangerous in a country still reeling from the chaos of world war. Finally, on June 23, 1949, work on the first block of flats began - today a plaque found on ul. Mierzwy 14 commemorates the event.

Somewhat sadly perhaps, the Utopian dream that was Nowa Huta was never fully realized. A fearsome town hall in the style of the renaissance halls found across Poland was never built, nor was the theatre building across from it and the ornamental architectural details planned for the monumental buildings of Plac Centralny were never added. However what was completed is very much worth the trip for intrepid tourists willing to teleport themselves into a completely different reality far from the cobbled kitsch of Kraków; it’s as easy as a tramride.

What To See

Should you take that step, do so onto the platform of Plac Centralny and find yourself in the central nervous system of Nowa Huta. Dating from 1949, the Central Square is a masterpiece of Soviet social planning, and the brainchild of architect Tadeusz Ptaszycki. In another twist of irony, this Soviet landmark which once bore Stalin’s name was officially redesignated ‘Ronald Reagan Square’ in 2004, though speak to any local and you’ll still find it referred to as Pl. Centralny.While this ‘square’ serves as the focal point for visitors, it’s the Steelworks that Nowa Huta is known for, not to mention named after. Poland was in the process of rebuilding itself from near complete destruction after WWII, and steel was of vital importance. Work began in April 1950, and by 1954 the first blast furnace was in operation. Employing some 40,000 people in its heyday the Steelworks - named for a time after Lenin - were capable of producing seven million tonnes of steel annually, and at one time boasted the largest blast furnace in Europe. Such was its reputation that Fidel Castro chose to visit the Steelworks rather than Kraków’s Rynek on one state visit to Poland. Found on the end of al. Solidarności the entrance to what is known as the Sendzimir Steelworks has been given the full socialist makeover, with two concrete monstrosities built to echo the fine old buildings of Poland. You’ll hear the natives referring to this architectural masterstroke as ‘the Vatican,’ poking fun at the grandeur it was meant to emmulate.

Nowa Huta may have been designed to be a socialist showcase city, but the reality was far different. It became a hotbed of anticommunist activity, with early displays of dissent traced back to the struggle for permission to build the city’s first church, and though it took 28 years, The Lord’s Ark (Kościół Arka Pana) was finally consecrated in 1977. Not surprisingly many of Nowa Huta’s political protestors could be found during the day on the factory floor, and the Steelworks were to play a huge part in the Solidarity strikes of the early 1980s. Identified as an anti-establishment stronghold, the Steelworks were placed under military control during the period of martial law, and today a remembrance room inside the factory honours those workers who put their lives on the line.

Similar to certain parts of Warsaw, as well as many urban areas in the former Soviet Union, Nowa Huta offers a surreal look inside the false dawn that was communism. Nowhere is this flawed grandeur more apparent than in the Teatr Ludowy (os. Teatralne 34), its interiors filled with absurd chandeliers. Built in 1955 the exterior was apparently inspired by ancient Egypt, though anyone who visits is likely to disagree. Equally fearsome is the Kino Świt (al. Gen. Andersa 11), its facade supported by twelve pillars. Yet while Socialist Realism is the defining style, it’s not the only one. By the 1960s, and with the supply of bricks from the flattened Wrocław drying up, it was the turn of the high-rises to come to the fore. The horizon was transformed within a decade, with easy to build faceless towers mushrooming up in the suburbs.

However, while Nowa Huta is the product of the last half century, a true tour of the area reveals a number of treasures of much older historical value. The most epitomising example of a pre-steel age in the area has to be Wanda’s Mound a mysterious prehistoric earthwork that proves the area’s settlement predates that of Kraków’s Old Town. The quiet communities of Krzesławice and Mogiła each hide pristine examples of ancient Polish sacral architecture in the wooden churches of St. John the Baptist and St. Bartholomew. Artist Jan Matejko enjoyed Krzesławice so much he used it as an artist retreat as his preserved period manor house evidences. Mogiła meanwhile harbours one of the most cherished religious sites in Małopolska in the Cistercian Monastery and its morbidly miraculous cross. If you’ve more time to explore, a walking or cycling tour of Mogiła’s small backroads is akin to an open-air ethnographic museum, just watch out for the german shepherds behind every garden fence.