Facts. After the fall of the Ukrainian People’s Republic, Volyn and most other lands inhabited by both Poles and Ukrainians found themselves within Poland’s borders. While the state tried to reach out to its Ukrainian minority, it was unable to find the right policy to manage the multiethnic state, and the rights of Ukrainians were not respected. With no country of their own, Ukrainians became increasingly radicalized under Polish policies, leading to the foundation of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) in 1929. The 1930s were marked by growing confrontation between the two sides.
World War II significantly changed the landscape, further deteriorating relations. Three main causes led to the escalation of hostilities. Firstly, the question of whom Eastern Galicia and Volyn belonged to was once again open. Secondly, both occupying forces – but especially the Germans – showed the locals how ethnic problems can be solved, through expulsion and extermination. Thirdly, Polish and Ukrainian elites were among the first casualties, demoralizing both communities.
In these conditions the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA), an armed formation established by the OUN-B (the fraction led by Stepan Bandera), decided to proceed with the cleansing of lands they saw as Ukrainian, that were to join an independent Ukraine after the war. The new Ukrainian state, in line with the ideology of Ukrainian nationalists, was to be ethnically pure.
Regardless of whether the leadership of OUN-UPA wanted to chase the Poles away, or eliminate them physically, the result was horrific. Polish inhabitants of Volyn – including women, children and the elderly – were brutally murdered by their Ukrainian neighbors. Ukrainians were also killed by Poles, or by their compatriots, if they were too friendly with the Lachy (a derogatory term for Poles). The Polish historian Grzegorz Motyka estimates that some 100,000 Poles and 20,000 Ukrainians perished. Not being a historian, I believe him. Not because he is a Pole, but because I respect him as a competent researcher, unlike some of his Ukrainian colleagues.
The ideology of OUN-UPA, Poland’s interwar politics, and the policies of Nazi Germany and the USSR led to events that the Polish Senate described this year as “ethnic cleansing with features of genocide.” Many Poles believe it to be outright genocide. The definition of genocide in international law is in many ways imprecise. But it defines genocide as “intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group,” through acts that include “killing members of the group.” The anti-Polish actions of OUN-UPA meet these criteria.
Emotions. Polish hearts beat with history. This is both because Poland was once a great power, a past that Poles can look back on with pride, and because for Poles history is the basis of the nation’s martyrology – just as it is for Ukrainians. In recent years Poland has seen a growing interest in national history. In Ukraine, Viktor Yushchenko spurred a similar phenomenon; in Poland, this happened under the governance of Lech and Jaroslaw Kaczyński.
An important element of historical memory in Poland is the old Kresy, the borderlands. These lands once belonged to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and are now part of Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine. The countries of Western Europe had their colonies (the French had Algeria, the British had India); Poland had its Kresy. Just as some Russians still mourn the loss of Kiev, to say nothing of Odessa or Sevastopol, so, too, do some Poles long for Lwów.
Volyn was part of the Kresy. Ukrainian inhabitants of these lands do not remember Polish rule fondly. But Poles have a different, idealistic, image of those times. They imagine a quaint countryside with pre-war towns and villages, where Poles, Ukrainians and Jews live in harmony – until the OUN-UPA pushed their Ukrainians neighbors to infamy, that is. The Banderites murdered the innocent inhabitants of Volyn, and the blood that was spilt is crying for vengeance to the heavens. Moral law demands that we bury, honor and weep over the dead – this is what the Polish hearts call for.
Sadly, they say, this is being withheld from us. In the name of geopolitical calculations, understanding towards our Ukrainian neighbor, a desire to pull it out from Russia’s influence and toward the European Union, Polish authorities do not want to talk about the Volyn crimes. This “hushed up genocide,” has caused the victims of 1943 to once again be sacrificed for politics.
Regarding the facts, most of the Polish elites agree. But emotions divide. The discourse featured above is typical of the so-called Kresy interest groups, whose spokesperson has become Father Tadeusz Isakowicz-Zaleski. Since the death of President Lech Kaczyński in 2010, it is also increasingly supported by Poland’s biggest opposition group, Law and Justice. But Ukrainians often overlook that others, too, are playing on the Pole’s emotions over Volyn: coalition member, the Polish People’s Party, and even part of the ruling Civic Platform. The Kresy people are potential voters, and Volyn is a way to be elected – that’s why Polish politicians can’t ignore them, even if this damages bilateral relations.
On the other side are supporters of dialogue, understood otherwise than imposing ones views. Here one should consider the community around daily Gazeta Wyborcza, some major non-governmental organizations, like the Batory Foundation, once financed by George Soros, some individuals who are personally engaged in Polish-Ukrainian dialogue (Henryk Wujec, Bogumiła Berdychowska), and finally the Catholic Church, which as an institution speaks with a different voice than Father Isakowicz-Zaleski.
So what must be done? Undeniably, historians face the biggest task – they must research Polish-Ukrainian life, hoping it will allow us to better understand our past. It will be difficult to develop a common historical memory, but we should at least agree on the facts. While common memory will elude us, we can unite around “a common suffering” (our ancestors suffered from Ukrainians, yours, from Poles; this unites us). But the most important dimension on which we can come together should be religion. Both Poles and Ukrainians are Christians, and the Lord forgives our sins. “Forgive and you will be forgiven; We forgive and ask for forgiveness.”
Andrzej Szeptycki is an assistant professor at the Warsaw University’s Institute of International Relations and a member of Polish-Ukrainian Partnership Forum.
