Poles flood Britain, take new ideas back home

A Financial Times editorial this week stated that in Britain, "the debate about immigration … has exploded," arguing that more than half the new jobs in England in the past decade have gone to foreigners under a flexible EU job program. But it noted that all studies show the newcomers make "most existing residents better off."

In the past year, the influx has slowed somewhat. Between June 2005 and 2006, some 574,000 immigrants came to Britain and 385,000 left, the Home Office study shows, a drop of nearly a quarter. But the official figures are widely regarded as an undercount.

Apart from economic benefits, some experts say the Polish migration is transforming both the intrepid workers and Poland.

Machalak, for example, waited in line eight hours at the Polish Embassy last month to vote for Mr. Tusk in the elections. He and his friends watch Polish TV every night on new Polish cable stations, and hear expat Polish radio in London, including Hey Now, a popular new station.

"I went down the line at the embassy asking people why they were voting for Tusk," says Machalak, who holds a degree in political science. "Most said they were voting for change, for the kind of life they see abroad."

In Warsaw, experts point out the Polish expats changed the character of the elections. "You have all those young people from small towns phoning home and telling their parents that the money they are sending will be aided by a pro-European outlook," says one observer. "Believe me, those families weren't going to vote for Kazcinski," the former president, perceived as suspicious of the EU.

Spurred by 'Thriller'

Machalak's story is typical. When Poland first broke from the Soviet Union, he was in the Army. Machalak remembers the euphoria of independence well. At age 23, he saw Michael Jackson's music video "Thriller" and decided to start a dance school.

"It was a way of being free; dancing was freedom." He started a club, but it failed and he went bankrupt. "I barely had enough to buy bread. I had thought everything would be great. I could open a business. But no one told us how to keep it going."

Like many Poles, he "soured on freedom."

When he came to London in 2005, it was his second try. In 2003, he had been put in an airport customs holding for 10 hours and then shipped home. But the next time, he was legal. His sister-in-law picked him up, told him to buy black shoes and trousers, and go downtown. He wandered into the Landmark Hotel and got a job in the kitchen. He memorized the menu so thoroughly that he was promoted to a runner between kitchen and dining room. He went to night school for English, and is now a waiter.

"We spent 50 years under communism. I came here feeling I needed someone to take care of me, to help me," says Machalak, whose stern professional demeanor quickly softens when he speaks. "It was a new culture, a new language. I was alone, no family or friends. I had to think for myself. Now I'm sure I can stand up. I'm not afraid."

But like many Poles, Machalak does not plan to stay on. His wife feels "stressed out." He says the life in London is too complicated and "too fast" for him, and he professes shock at the kind of language and rowdy behavior he sees among young Londoners. He doesn't want this for his daughter. "I'm not going to be a waiter all my life," he adds. "Here, I love it, but I will always be a foreigner."

Machalak plans to go in on a business in Poland with a friend who just returned from England to his hometown. "If we fail, I can always come back here."

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