LETTER FROM WARSAW/ DEREK SCALLY: Irish bigots who miss the days when they could openly condemn homosexuals as freaks of nature and get applause should get on a plane to Poland.
Attitudes to homosexuality here have a striking similarity to views in Ireland before decriminalisation just over a decade ago.
In fact, following the public discussion of homosexuality in Poland is sometimes like time-travelling to the Ireland of the past. Like last year when the Primate of Poland, Cardinal Jozef Glemp, described homosexuality as a kind of "addiction". "Homosexuality depresses me a lot because it is against human nature," he said on a radio station. "I simply hate seeing men kiss each other. Maybe I'm old fashioned." Old fashioned or not, a large number of people share his views in staunchly Catholic Poland.
Although there is no legislation banning homosexuality, some 41 per cent of Poles feel it is not normal, according to a recent poll, while the same number would like to see homosexual sex forbidden.
The situation is changing, however, as a result of attempts to increase the visibility of homosexuals in society and encourage tolerance among the greater population.
A minor earthquake occurred last year when huge posters appeared on billboards across the country showing gay couples smiling and holding hands above the catch line: "Look at us!" Everyone did and the posters caused a scandal.
"In Poland, homosexuals have to be in hiding and we do not want to do it any more. Things have got to change," said Ewa (26), who posed with her 21-year-old girlfriend Ania.
Photographer Karoline Bregula, who initiated the campaign, said she could only find 30 couples in the entire country who were prepared to pose for her. That confirmed her feelings that the majority of Polish homosexuals are afraid to lead open lives and made her only more determined to proceed.
The posters created a lot of positive publicity but had some negative effects too, particularly in rural areas.
One young woman from a small town who featured in a poster was thrown out of home while a man lost his job and copies of his poster were hung from nooses on trees near his home. For many in the provinces, it seems that being gay is a hanging offence.
The poster campaign has made homosexuality in Polish society a hot topic in the media. One magazine ran a two-page spread on the lives of Polish homosexuals and was swamped with letters, many incredibly depressing.
When one letter-writer, Tomek, told a friend he was gay, the friend promptly beat him up. Tomek tried to commit suicide but was found by his mother and promised her he would never to try to kill himself again.
"Now I pray. I pray for cancer or a heart attack, anything that will help me to get me out of this world," he wrote.
Tomek's despair is reflected in the statistics: 14 per cent of Polish homosexuals have experienced physical abuse, while over a third have been the victim of psychological abuse such as taunting and blackmail.
Nearly one in four gay men and lesbians surveyed by a Polish gay rights organisation said they had not come out to their families.
There are, as yet, no openly gay politicians, actors or journalists in Poland, but anyone who wants the latest gossip on them just has to go to one of Warsaw's growing number of gay bars and clubs.
"Of course Polish priests don't go in the gay clubs, you meet them in Internet chat," says one well-known Polish journalist.
But even Warsaw isn't as liberal as it would like to think: the mayor of Warsaw, Mr Lech Kaczynski, banned the "Look at us!" poster campaign as well as this year's Gay Pride parade, saying the city could not guarantee the safety of participants. Last year, the gay rights campaign in Poland received a huge boost from a government proposal to legalise gay partnerships.
"Poles are no less tolerant than others," said Ms Izabela Jaruga-Nowacka, the Minister for Gender Equality, who supported the bill. "Their real problem is that they have never really talked about these issues." The proposed law was opposed by the usual suspects: the fanatical religious radio station Radio Maryja and the League of Polish Families, an extreme right-wing political party that sees itself as the guardian of Polish morals.
It is a huge step forward for Poland that such legislation is now even proposed, said Ms Izabela Jaruga-Nowacka, and its failure was not unexpected, something she blames on Poland's "historical paradox".
"Under the totalitarian system, people turned to the Church as a symbol of freedom," she says. "But now that we have gained that freedom, the Church has turned against the development of a civil society."