It was early January in Warsaw, and a new promise stirred among the ever-green pines: “It’s time to get saws out of Polish forests,” declared Paulina Hennig-Kloska, the freshly appointed minister of climate and environment.
That phrase—simple yet resolute—became the hinge on which Poland’s forest fate turned. With it, the government ordered an immediate six-month halt to logging in ten of its most precious woodland regions, including some of Europe’s last primeval forests.
A Quiet Revolution In The Treetops
To walk into the Białowieża Forest—or the ancient Carpathian woodlands—is to step into the deep centuries. Here, moss-laden trunks stand like silent sentinels, and ferns whisper stories of a time before human maps. These forests are not just carbon stores or ecological corridors—they are living archives.
Poland’s forests have long played a fraught role in politics, conservation, and national identity. Under the previous government (2015–2023), logging expanded, sometimes controversially, even in protected zones. In 2016–2018, the Polish state increased cutting quotas in Białowieża, arguing that bark-beetle infestations demanded intervention.
International organizations, including the European Union, UNESCO, and various environmental groups, opposed Poland’s logging activities. In 2018, the European Court of Justice determined that the country’s actions breached EU environmental regulations and subsequently imposed an immediate halt on tree felling in the protected ancient forest.
Still, enforcement was patchy. Local foresters, under pressure to maintain revenue, at times skirted restrictions. Protesters chained themselves to machines and climbed into treetops to slow felling crews.
The New Path: Pause, Protect, Listen
The decision in January 2024 was a clear departure from the more combative tone of past years. Just 1.5 percent of state-managed forest area is covered by the moratorium, but the symbolic weight is large.
Among the ten affected zones are the Bieszczady, the Knyszyńska, the Augustów, the Karpacka, and forests near Wrocław and Białystok.
The ministry explained that the restrictions target the forests of highest ecological, hydrological, or cultural value: old-growth tracts (100–200 years), woods near large cities (for flood control), and forests tied to traditions like tree-based beekeeping.
Deputy Minister Mikołaj Dorożała stated that the moratorium will reduce planned logging by 20–30 percent in those zones. The government also promises broader consultations—with state foresters, scientists, NGOs, and local communities—for a systemic solution to forest protection. A special “constitution” for Białowieża is reportedly under discussion.
On the government’s website, the announcement is framed as fulfilling campaign promises and aligning with EU commitments such as the 2030 Biodiversity Strategy.
Between Hope And Caution
Environmentalists have cautiously welcomed the change—but with careful caveats. Aleksandra Wiktor of Greenpeace Poland said the moratorium is a necessary first step, yet “only for a short while”—it must be extended and deepened. Critics point out that only a small fraction of forest area is protected, and that enforcement will be the real test.
Activists recall painful memories of earlier confrontations: protests broken up by guards, legal limbo, and logging machines arriving in the pre-dawn mist.
Still, civil society is more prepared now. The “Camp for the Forest” protests in Białowieża in 2017 became emblematic of a broader ecological awakening. Reports and documentary evidence from NGOs helped sharpen legal challenges to the state’s forest practices.
Many Poles agree: polling suggests 75 percent believe logging should be reduced. For them, the decision feels overdue.
Yet questions linger: Will political winds shift? Can protections survive a future government less committed to climate and conservation? Will logging quietly recommence through legal or regulatory loopholes?
A Forest’s Heartbeat, A Nation’s Choice
In a small village near Białowieża, an elderly beekeeper named Maria tends to her hives beneath the forest’s dappled shade. She speaks of watching a woodpecker hammering resin, of fog glinting on spiderwebs, and of listening for the nocturnal rustle of bison in the gloaming.
She shrugs at news of the moratorium. “It means the chainsaws stop for now,” she says. “But the forest is patient. It will outlast many governments. What it needs is respect, not promises.”
And yet, respect may be budding. The moratorium shows a state willing to pause and listen, if only for six months. It signals that forests are no longer there merely to be managed—but to be honored.
If the pause becomes permanent, and moratoria evolve into laws, then these forests may finally stand beyond political tides. Local schools might teach children to read moss rather than log numbers; cities downstream might know fewer floods; wandering bears and lynx might reclaim corridors split by humans.
Today’s silence in the sawmill sheds space for growth—not just in the forest floor, but in the public imagination. Let us hope the next steps deepen trust between people and trees, crafting a future where forests and communities flourish side by side.
Sources:
Fern
Reuters
Polskie Radio
