In recent days, public opinion has been inflamed by reports of a teacher allegedly “throwing a cross into the trash” during a lesson. The case immediately became media fuel, and protesters appeared around the school, including individuals calling themselves “border defenders.” There were announcements of reports to the prosecutor’s office, accusations of offending religious feelings, and a classic online witch-hunt.
The problem is that criminal law operates not on emotions or headlines, but on facts. And the longer a case is investigated, the less sensational the reports become.
What could actually have happened?
Further media reports indicate that the item that ended up in the trash wasn’t necessarily a cross hanging on the wall as a symbol of religious worship. There are reports that it was a plastic cross – a prop that students played with during class, disrupting the lesson. There’s also a persistent thread in public that it was part of a Halloween costume, not a legally recognized religious object.
This distinction is not a semantic trick. It determines whether it can be considered a crime at all.
Article 196 of the Penal Code is not automatic
The debate immediately brought up Article 196 of the Penal Code, which specifically addresses the crime of offending religious feelings. It’s worth recalling, however, that this provision has very specific requirements. The mere mention of the word “cross” isn’t enough.
In order to speak of a crime, the following would have to occur simultaneously:
• public insult,
• an object of religious worship,
• in a way that offends the religious feelings of specific people,
• when there is an intention to insult.
If the item was a plastic prop, used in play or as part of a costume, and the teacher threw it in the trash in response to disrupting the lesson, there is no basis for filing a criminal complaint. Criminal law does not penalize every gesture that someone dislikes. It penalizes behavior that has a real, socially harmful effect.
School is not a political stage
What happened next is particularly disturbing: the escalation of emotions in front of the school, the presence of groups known for radical protests, and an attempt to force a “resolution” of the matter on the street and on social media.
School is not an ideological ring. Children cannot be held hostage by adult disputes. And the prosecutor’s office is not a tool for confirming someone’s ideological beliefs.
In a state ruled by law, it is not the crowd that decides whether a crime has occurred, but the analysis of the evidence: what exactly was the subject of the event, in what context, what words were said, what was the intention and whether anyone was actually harmed in the sphere protected by criminal law.
What about the teacher’s version?
Amidst all the chaos, it’s especially easy to overlook one fundamental principle: listening to the other side. If a teacher claims to have confiscated an object from a student that was thrown or played with during class, this isn’t a “defense,” but a factual circumstance that requires verification.
Investigation, disciplinary action, and school procedures are one thing. However, turning such a situation into a criminal case—without thoroughly establishing the facts—is something entirely different.
Criminal law is not for managing emotions
This case highlights a broader problem: criminal law is increasingly being used as a kind of ideological “bludgeon.” However, its role is not to respond to every controversy, but to protect against truly dangerous or socially harmful acts.
If inappropriate behavior occurred, there are other measures. If a parenting error occurred, there are other procedures, such as disciplinary action. However, if a plastic prop, not an object of religious worship, ended up in the trash, there was no “attack on religion” as defined by criminal law.
Emotions versus law – where is the line?
In a democratic state governed by the rule of law, emotions may run high, but facts and laws have the final say. And it would be good if we—especially in matters concerning schools and children—remembered this.
Sometimes it may seem that practicing lawyers are devoid of emotion. In reality, it’s the exact opposite—we simply don’t react on impulse, but on analysis. We filter every high-profile event, every sensation, through the legal framework. It is this process—in legal parlance called subsumption—that allows us to separate what arouses emotion from what actually constitutes a crime.
When the law becomes a tool of pressure
I write this as a practitioner who deals with truly serious matters on a daily basis: violence, threats, assaults, and real violations of human dignity. Emotions run high in such cases, but they must always give way to facts and evidence.
That’s why I observe with concern attempts to deploy criminal law to win ideological disputes, rather than to protect anyone from real harm. Criminal law is not meant to defuse collective emotions or engage in symbolic battles.
If we begin to treat the prosecutor’s office as a tool for confirming our own beliefs, it quickly becomes clear that anyone can fall victim to such a mechanism. And the rule of law ends precisely at the point when law ceases to be an analysis of facts and begins to be a reaction to the cry of the crowd.
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