A Story of Two Nations That Did Everything to Make the Other Disappear – From Clashes After the Fall of Great Empires, Erasure of Identity in the Interwar Period, to the Horrifying Massacre of Poles by Ukrainian Nationalists
Looking at current events tied to history, it seems we remain trapped in Galicia—a region we’ve mentioned several times in recent weeks—and we’ll have to return to it once again. Yesterday, the Polish leadership marked the anniversary of the Ukrainian massacre of Poles during World War II. It’s an uncomfortable anniversary, especially this year, as Poland is perhaps Ukraine’s closest ally in the fight against Russia, and millions of Ukrainians have taken refuge in Poland to escape the war.
Can a shared animosity toward Russia simply override everything that has happened in the past? “Let this truth be the foundation for our new relationship,” Polish President Andrzej Duda said yesterday.
But there are a few problems with that. First, that shared animosity toward Russia existed even during the horrific massacre being commemorated. Second, how does Duda imagine Poland and Ukraine will “agree” on the truth?
Because this is one of those truths—controversial ones. If you ask the Poles, Ukrainian nationalist forces killed up to 100,000 Poles during World War II. If you ask the Ukrainians, that number quickly drops—down to around 12,000.
So who is right? Likely neither side entirely. The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, perhaps around 50,000 (which is still a staggering figure).
But how did this massacre (which Poland considers genocide) even come about? How far back in history do we want to go? One could spend days on this story, but let’s try to simplify it as much as possible.
First, what is the main difference between Poles and Ukrainians? Not ethnicity—they are both Slavic peoples. Religion? Very much so—Poles are Catholic, Ukrainians Orthodox (though they try to maintain distance from Moscow). So, one region was shaped by strong Vatican influence, the other by Byzantium. Still, this isn’t the main cause of the massacre (though it certainly didn’t help!). The greater differences between Poland and Ukraine lie in their histories.
There’s no doubt that Poland was a significantly more developed country in every sense. In fact, when Poland was at the height of its power, as part of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, Ukraine—at least in today’s national sense—wasn’t even fully defined. Poland, on the other hand, could easily rival the great European powers in terms of development, culture, and “European values”—France, Austria, Britain…
When does Ukraine become a significant player? Like many nations, in the 19th century, with the rise and spread of nationalism.
For a long time, the territory we now recognize as western Ukraine was under Polish control. In fact, Poland for centuries viewed the Dnipro River as its eastern border—beyond which lived Cossacks, Tatars, and others.
But as we know, that wouldn’t last. European history was shaken to its core (and perhaps still hasn’t fully recovered) when Austria-Hungary took over Galicia.
The Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth was truly a major European power—culturally, geostrategically, economically… And it was a massive geopolitical earthquake when, in 1772, Austria, Prussia, and Russia carved up this country, which at the time was the largest in Europe (excluding Russia).
One of the most striking events in all of European history is that Poland disappeared from the map and wouldn’t reappear until the end of World War I in 1918. Of course, Poland’s return—strongly supported by France, which hoped the renewed Polish state would act as a bulwark against potential new German aggressions or Soviet Bolshevism—came in a new era, a new world.
Perhaps in earlier centuries Poland completely disregarded Ukrainians. To the Poles, they were mostly seen as uneducated peasants living in the eastern parts of the country. But times had changed. The Ukrainian national identity was now alive and assertive. It had aspirations, and even its own middle class and intelligentsia. Let’s not forget—Poland had ceased to exist for a long time…
Two empires vanished in the chaos of World War I—Austria-Hungary and the Russian Empire—and out of their ruins came many new states, including the “new” Poland, but also Ukraine. A new country, called the Ukrainian State, was formed during the war, in April 1918, backed by Germany, which wanted a satellite in the region with strong anti-Bolshevik leanings.
So now we had a restored Poland, firmly supported by France, and a newly formed Ukraine, backed even more strongly by Germany—what could possibly go wrong?
Unsurprisingly, a fierce war broke out almost immediately between Poland and Ukraine due to the significant territories with mixed populations, primarily Galicia—more specifically, Eastern Galicia (today’s western Ukraine, where the main city is Lviv, then more commonly known as Lemberg). The war soon spread to the regions of Volhynia (present-day northwestern Ukraine) and Chełm (today eastern Poland)—areas that had until recently been part of the Russian Empire.
Who do you think won that war? Clearly, Poland. Ukraine didn’t stand a chance, as its main strategic ally, Germany, ended up on the losing side in World War I. And so, out of the two new countries, only one remained—Poland, which annexed all the territory of the short-lived Ukrainian State (which existed from April 29 to December 14, 1918).
But the bloody century in Europe was just beginning.
We know what happened to Poland. It would be carved up again in 1939, this time between Nazi Germany and the USSR—Hitler and Stalin—who secretly agreed to partition Eastern Europe through the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact.
Of course, Poland had no idea what fate awaited it, though it was well aware that enemies surrounded it… on one side, Germany, rapidly rearming and rising; on the other, the USSR. Still, in the interwar period, Poland focused on where it could—its own territory, specifically the Ukrainian threat.
Naturally, the Poles had firsthand experience of the challenge Ukrainian nationalism posed, especially in the east where the population was often split “50/50.” So what did the Poles do in the interwar period? They tried to erase Ukrainian identity and assimilate Ukrainians as Poles.
The campaign began with the Ukrainian Orthodox churches, most of which were converted into Catholic ones. Those that remained were forced to conduct services in Polish. Ukrainian officials were arrested or silenced, there were mass repressions—and, of course, large-scale resettlement of Poles into Galicia and Volhynia.
Bit by bit, the Poles intended to squeeze out Ukrainian identity—or at least push it beyond the Dnipro River. Perhaps, over time, they might have succeeded, as Ukraine found itself isolated without allies. But then came 1939…
Suddenly, everything the Poles had done to the Ukrainians paled in comparison to what the Soviets would now do to the Poles. Immediately after annexing Polish territory, the Soviet NKVD began systematic repression of the Polish middle and upper class—activists, politicians, military leaders… By 1941, around 200,000 Poles had been sent to Siberia, many never to return. High-profile prisoners were taken to NKVD basements in Kharkiv, where they were tortured and executed. It is estimated that over 1.2 million Poles were relocated into the USSR.
In some places, the Soviets replaced expelled Poles with Ukrainians, but at the same time actively suppressed any Ukrainian organizations that demanded independence.
Ukrainian nationalists now had a new enemy—the Soviets—but they had not forgotten their original enemy: the Poles, who, they believed, were occupying their territory and had been oppressing them throughout the interwar period.
As we know, this is still not the end of the story, and perhaps the greatest escalation is yet to come. On June 22, 1941, Nazi forces—together with Slovaks and Hungarians—launched the largest invasion in history: the invasion of the Soviet Union.
By June 30, the Soviets had withdrawn from Volhynia, and soon after, they would also leave Galicia. This marked another major shift—now the Germans were in control. And the Germans had good relations with radical Ukrainian nationalist groups, such as the OUN (Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists).
So? What do you think happened to the Poles?
The Germans immediately initiated pogroms, and Ukrainian nationalist militias actively helped them—assisting in the capture of Poles, Jews, communists, and all others the Nazi occupiers intended to exterminate.
During the first year of Nazi occupation, the Ukrainian OUN urged its members to join German police units. Many received training and weapons directly from the German SS and assisted in the killing of around 200,000 Jews who lived in Volhynia.
The Ukrainian forces did not carry out most of the killings of Jews themselves, but they actively learned some of the Nazis’ most notorious tactics. Among them was the tactic of deceiving civilians into thinking they would not be harmed, to gather them and kill them more easily. Everything the OUN learned from the Nazis in 1942 would be applied the following year to the mass killing of Poles.
The extremist faction, known as OUN-B (led by the infamous Stepan Bandera), was the main actor in the killing of Poles in Galicia and Volhynia, with women and children often among the massacred.
It is interesting from a broader perspective to consider how Poles and Ukrainians perceived this conflict. The Polish Armia Krajowa (AK), or Home Army, and the Ukrainian OUN seemed to ignore the fact that Germany and the USSR were engaged in a full-scale war around them. Both sides were already preparing plans to eliminate each other. The Polish AK and the Polish government-in-exile wanted to expel millions of Ukrainians from Galicia, either deporting them to Soviet territory or dispersing them throughout Ukraine. The OUN wanted to do the same to the Poles. The difference was that the OUN had the advantage of being (relatively) aligned with the Germans, and thus were the first to actively begin exterminating the Poles. In another hypothetical scenario, it is not hard to imagine the Poles doing the same to Ukrainians.
For these rival sides, the USSR and Germany were like giant forces waging their own war, while their primary interest was to eliminate one another. And after? Afterward, the plan was to rise up against whichever occupier remained—be it the Nazis or the communists.
The mass killing orchestrated by the OUN and the UPA (Ukrainian Insurgent Army) began around March 1943. They moved from town to town, village to village, across Galicia, brutally killing Poles—unarmed men, women, and children. This ethnic cleansing reached its peak in the summer of 1943.
July 11 (commemorated yesterday) is considered the peak of the massacre and the bloodiest day. On that day, Ukrainian nationalist forces stormed 167 towns and settlements. Within just a few days, nearly all the Polish inhabitants in many places were slaughtered.
The tactics were horrifying. For example, in the village of Wola Ostrowiecka, 529 people were killed, including 220 children under the age of 14. There were many similar examples…
In some villages, the massacres lasted for days. In some cases, women and children were locked in barns that were then set on fire.
“Poles behind the San!” was the slogan of the Ukrainian nationalists at the time, referring to the San River which flows through present-day eastern Poland—in other words, the massacre was “successful” in that sense. The Poles were driven out of Eastern Galicia, and more often than not, this was not simply expulsion, but extermination.
The level of sadism and cruelty was exceptionally high. There are numerous documented cases, but it is better not to describe them. It is enough to say that the worst possible tortures one could inflict on a human being were carried out against Poles by Ukrainian extremists. It’s worth mentioning that weapons were often “saved,” and tools like axes and knives were used instead.
In one written order from the OUN in early 1944, it stated:
“Destroy all traces of the Poles. Demolish all walls in Catholic churches and other Polish prayer houses. Uproot orchards and trees in the yards so there is no sign that anyone ever lived there… Pay attention that if anything Polish remains, then Poles will have claims to our land.”
The massacre of Poles did not stop until the Red Army captured these areas in February 1945.
After the collapse of the USSR, Poland (up until recently, actually) insisted that this massacre by Ukrainians be officially recognized as genocide. In Ukraine, these events are officially referred to as the “Volhynian Tragedy.” Some Ukrainian historians argue that what occurred was a “bilateral genocide,” meaning that the Polish AK committed similar crimes against Ukrainian civilians.
Nevertheless, as we can see from the current situation, Polish-Ukrainian relations are at a historic high, and the two countries are now united against Russia, which they both clearly see as a far greater—or rather, the only—threat.
It is certainly commendable that Ukrainians and Poles have managed to overcome their historical traumas, if they truly have—that is, if this is not merely a partnership of convenience driven by a shared desire to see Russia, under whom both suffered, brought to its knees.
When the story is stripped down to its core, the Ukrainian massacre of Poles was a brutal episode—but sadly, Europe remembers many such events. Every conflict based on ethnic cleansing is full of horrifying stories and atrocities.
Due to historical circumstances, the Poles became the victims, and this is reflected on the modern map of Europe: territories that were under Polish control for centuries are now part of Ukraine. As mentioned earlier, had Poland been in a position to deal with the Ukrainians in a similar manner, might the same have happened? Perhaps—but one must keep in mind that Poland had the “opportunity” to do so during the entire interwar period—two full decades. Yes, they tried to convert the Ukrainians (literally), to suppress their national identity and culture, and to turn them into Poles. There were persecutions and imprisonments… but all of that still cannot be compared to what the Ukrainian radicals did to Polish civilians under Nazi occupation. Those were crimes on par with Nazi atrocities—sometimes even beyond that level of monstrosity.
Can Poland today simply overlook all of that? It seems it can—or perhaps believes it must. That is realpolitik, and it makes sense. Ukraine today poses no threat to Poland; it has already taken what it wanted. Poland sees the threat in Russia. Still, even with all the realpolitik, Warsaw cannot—for the sake of its own dignity—ignore the sight of people marching through Kyiv with portraits of Stepan Bandera. Of course, the Russians like to bring up Bandera out of their own interest—hoping to sow discord between Poland and Ukraine, which would certainly suit them—but Bandera and the Ukrainian nationalists inflicted far more harm on the Polish people than they ever did on the Russian people.
And so, this is yet another story about Galicia—but certainly not the last.
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