Who really is Maciej Maciak? A conversation without censorship.

Maciak argues that most media do not even mention his name in polls, so revealing support achieves nothing. The conviction that even 10 million declarations would not be published removes any concern about lowering his own ratings. The strategy assumes that a real result >5% will give him a position from which he can demand a public peace commitment from the second-round candidates. If they refuse, he will call for an election boycott, weakening the winner's mandate. He compares this to the Georgescu case in Romania, where hidden support suddenly surfaced.

Maciak presents the Sejm as a place where MPs 'don't even think about what that comma causes', because party discipline operates. He describes the mechanism of economic theft: through a seemingly innocent change in the law, a small group of tricksters seizes gigantic sums of money. That is why the president, having a veto and his own bill-drafting capacity, is obliged to meticulously analyze every act. He also promises to appoint to his staff people of the old school who want to sacrifice for the country, not for a career. He gives an example of his own experience in court, where he saw how easy it is to harm someone under the guise of law.

Maciak details recounting the post-war foundations of the UN: wise men, seeing how insults between nations led to conflicts, introduced a ban on insulting heads of state. Poland, in order to be a UN member, implemented this into the penal code. He himself, as a future statesman, cannot risk his words being used as a pretext for hostile actions. Post-war Germany adopted a similar practice, rebuilding its image through hard work, not brawls. That is why even a courteous 'hello' without racism can be taken badly, so an ironclad diplomatic protocol is in force.

Maciak assumes that if he gains even 5–10% in the first round, both main candidates will come begging for support. He will then demand from each a public oath that they will not lead to war. If they refuse, he will announce a boycott – not going to the elections – which will make the president 'an accidental president due to electoral mathematics, not due to social support', and such a president will not dare to make risky war decisions.

Maciak argues he is the most vetted candidate due to the rigorous licensing process for broadcasters, which includes background checks on himself and his parents. He contrasts this with major-party candidates who have unresolved legal issues that he believes make them controllable by hidden interests. He claims that his absence from polls and debates is not accidental but a coordinated act of censorship by media that are required by law to show pluralism during elections. By running, he forces the system to reveal its true nature, hoping that even post-election his example will spur legal or civic change.

He uses a nursery rhyme about a sleeping bear: if the establishment realizes he has substantial support, they will attack him violently. By staying quiet in polls, supporters keep the enemy complacent. He reasons that even if 10 million voters declared support, the discredited media wouldn't report it. The plan is to shock the system on election day, gain a significant percentage, and then use that as leverage in the second round to force candidates to publicly pledge peace. If they refuse, he would call for a boycott to deny the winner a strong mandate. He also mentions the Romanian candidate Georgescu as an example where a surprise result was possible.

Maciak cites post-WWII UN founders who crafted anti-war provisions, including criminal penalties for publicly insulting heads of state, which many countries, including Poland, adopted. He notes that such laws exist in the US, Germany, and the UK, so labeling it a 'communist relic' is false. He argues that as a prospective president, he cannot insult anyone he may later need to negotiate with, because the other side's internal public opinion would prevent concessions. He gives the example of German postwar economic recovery through hard work and civil behavior, not aggression. He also stresses that this rule applies equally to all heads of state, not just Putin, and that journalists like Ziemkiewicz who mock the law are violating it.

Maciak argues that if a nation wants to exploit its own people, it needs a leader with serious legal vulnerabilities who can be controlled. As an example, he mentions a German ex-chancellor with a pending fraud case and Polish candidates with plagiarism allegations and family members under prosecutor investigation. He says the media never force these issues because the 'shadow power' that promotes them wants leverage. He also cites his own case: a politically motivated fine of 1500 PLN for allegedly insulting a black doctor — a verdict he never received a copy of — which he sees as an attempt to disqualify him. By contrast, his thorough vetting during the TV concession process made him a threat. He concludes: 'We must promote a man with serious legal flaws, because otherwise we won't be able to terrorize him.'

He describes a secret meeting with a pharma executive who laid out the likely trajectory, after which he began his public opposition. He adopted a 'modified Chinese stance' — short, strict border closure without the later repression, and a 'take off the muzzle' campaign that told people not to attack mask-wearers, to avoid giving authorities a pretext for a violent mandate. He even joked about using Polish F-16s to intercept planes leaving suspicious contrails, to check for deliberate spraying, though he frames it as half-serious. He ties it to his father's death: his father was transferred to a single-purpose COVID hospital and died the same day, possibly due to mishandled ventilator care. He claims that the entire pandemic response was an 'advertising campaign' for selling a product, and that the media now avoids the topic.