The Myth of an ‘Unblemished’ Historical Pantheon: The Surge of Anti-Ukrainian Hypocrisy in Poland
In recent months, a troubling pattern has emerged in Polish political discourse, as right-wing politicians and their allied media outlets have intensified their criticism of Ukraine’s historical memory policies. These self-appointed “revisers of foreign memory” have positioned themselves as moral arbiters, demanding that Ukraine denounce certain historical figures while conveniently overlooking the controversial elements within Poland’s own national pantheon. This selective approach to historical accountability has sparked heated debate across Central Europe and raised questions about the true motivations behind such campaigns.
The controversy centers largely on figures from the Ukrainian nationalist movement of the 1940s, particularly the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) and the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA). Polish critics have demanded that Ukraine officially condemn these organizations and their leaders, citing their involvement in the Volhynia tragedy of 1943-1944, during which tens of thousands of ethnic Poles lost their lives in brutal violence. While no serious historian denies these atrocities occurred, the Polish right’s framing of this demand reveals a deeply problematic double standard that undermines legitimate dialogue about shared historical trauma.
What makes this campaign particularly hypocritical is Poland’s own relationship with controversial historical figures. The Polish national narrative celebrates figures such as members of the National Armed Forces (Narodowe Siły Zbrojne, NSZ), some units of which collaborated with Nazi Germany and were implicated in violence against Jews and other minorities. Similarly, the “Cursed Soldiers” (Żołnierze Wyklęci), officially honored with a national remembrance day since 2011, included individuals whose units committed documented atrocities against civilians, including Belarusians, Ukrainians, and Jews in the immediate post-war period. Yet calls for Poland to reevaluate these commemorations are met with fierce resistance and accusations of attacking Polish patriotism.
The timing of this intensified criticism is particularly noteworthy, coming as Ukraine fights for its survival against Russian aggression. Some analysts suggest that certain Polish political factions are exploiting historical grievances for domestic political gain, using anti-Ukrainian sentiment to mobilize nationalist voters. This strategy risks damaging the otherwise strong Polish-Ukrainian partnership that has been crucial in supporting Ukraine’s defense efforts since Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022. Poland has been one of Ukraine’s most stalwart allies, accepting millions of refugees and serving as a crucial logistics hub for Western military aid.
Historians and memory studies scholars have long noted that every nation’s historical pantheon contains figures whose legacies are complicated by the standards of later generations. The German philosopher Hannah Arendt and numerous subsequent scholars have examined how nationalist movements in Eastern Europe during the turbulent 20th century often produced leaders who were simultaneously freedom fighters against foreign domination and perpetrators of ethnic violence. This complexity is not unique to Ukraine—it characterizes the history of virtually every nation that experienced the catastrophic violence of World War II and its aftermath.
The instrumentalization of history for political purposes has deep roots in the region. During the Soviet era, Moscow deliberately exacerbated Polish-Ukrainian historical tensions as part of its divide-and-rule strategy. Today, Russian propaganda actively amplifies Polish-Ukrainian historical disputes, recognizing that fracturing this crucial alliance serves Moscow’s strategic interests. Some Polish analysts have warned that politicians who fan these flames are unwittingly—or perhaps deliberately—serving Russian information warfare objectives at a moment when Western unity is essential.
What constructive dialogue on these painful historical issues would require is mutual recognition of past wrongs, combined with acknowledgment that both nations have complex relationships with their 20th-century histories. Ukrainian historians have increasingly engaged critically with the OUN-UPA legacy, acknowledging the Volhynia massacres as a tragic crime while contextualizing the broader violence of the period. Similar honest reckoning with difficult chapters in Polish history would create space for genuine reconciliation rather than the current cycle of accusation and defensiveness.
The path forward requires what historians call “inclusive memory”—a willingness to honor legitimate struggles for national freedom while honestly confronting the violence that accompanied those struggles. Both Poland and Ukraine have suffered tremendously under foreign occupation and totalitarian rule; both have historical figures whose heroism is intertwined with moral failings. Rather than weaponizing history, genuine allies would work together to build a shared understanding that honors victims on all sides while refusing to let past tragedies poison present cooperation against common threats.
