In my last column I wrote about Russian memories of the Second World War, and how monuments to that war continue to stimulate feelings of pride, sorrow and nostalgia in the Russian people. But monuments can awaken all kinds of emotions, some of them healthier than others. This month I want to tell the story of another memorial, this time in Poland, which shows exactly how toxic the legacy of the Second World War can be. In recent years, this monument has been at the heart of a bitter controversy that has polarised opinions all over Europe.
The "Monument to Brotherhood in Arms" was erected in an eastern suburb of Warsaw in November 1945. It was typical of the kind of monument that was erected in the immediate aftermath of the war. It depicted three larger-than-life soldiers on top of a six-metre plinth. They are in a heroic pose, striding forwards, weapon in hand. Beneath them, standing at the corners of the plinth were four more statues – two Soviet soldiers, and two Polish ones – their heads bowed in sombre contemplation. On the plinth itself were inscribed the words: "Glory to the heroes of the Soviet Army, comrades in arms, who gave their lives for the freedom and independence of the Polish nation."
This monument was designed by a Soviet soldier, Major Alexander Nienko, but in the new spirit of cooperation it was constructed by a mixed group of Polish and Russian sculptors. It was supposed to depict a new era of friendship between the Polish and Soviet peoples. Poland and the USSR had actually begun the war on opposite sides, but in the latter stages of the war they had fought side by side for the liberation of Europe. The new monument was designed to celebrate this fact. It was hoped, certainly by the Soviets, that their wartime partnership might continue now that the fighting had finished.
This was the first of many such monuments in Warsaw. In the following years, hundreds of similar sculptures were erected not only in the capital, but all over the country. There were memorials to Polish-Soviet friendship, obelisks commemorating their joint victory over the Nazis, statues of Soviet war heroes, and plaques dedicated to their common war dead. There were tombs, cemeteries, and everlasting flames.
Unfortunately, the local population did not always appreciate these monuments, which, they felt, did not represent the truth of what had happened in 1945. Certainly the Poles and the Soviets had fought alongside one another, but it was not on equal terms. It was the Soviets who had been in command of the armies, and it was the Soviets who had remained in control after 1945. There were many who believed that these memorials represented not friendship but subjugation.
As a consequence, Polish monuments to the heroes of the Soviet Union were often vandalised, defaced, and covered with nationalist graffiti. They were given derogatory nicknames based on popular memories of the way that Soviet soldiers had behaved during the liberation: names like "the looter's memorial" or "the tomb of the unknown rapist". The Monument to Brotherhood in Arms in Warsaw was no exception. People joked that the statues at each corner were not hanging their heads in mourning, but because they had fallen asleep on duty. Thereafter, the memorial was popularly known as "The Four Sleepers".
For more than 60 years, this monument continued to stand in Wilenski Square in Warsaw. After the collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of 1991, the city authorities briefly considered dismantling it, but the proposal was met with great opposition. Those who had grown up with the monument had learned to love it over the years. One of the original artists – a Polish sculptor named Stefan Momot – stood up in a public meeting to defend his creation. So the idea was quickly dropped.
In 2007, the city authorities again suggested that the monument be taken down, this time to make way for a new tram stop. Once again, the idea was soon dropped. Four years later, however, as part of a city-wide transport improvement plan, the monument was removed to make way for the construction of a new underground railway station. The local council promised that this was only a temporary measure. They took it away to a conservation workshop in Micha?owice to be renovated. It would be replaced just as soon as the station was finished.
Unfortunately, the removal of the monument coincided with a change in mood in Poland. In the following years a new, right-wing populist party called "Law and Justice" won power. Members of this party had always been opposed to the "Four Sleepers" monument, and wanted it removed for good. They claimed that they were expressing "the will of the capital's residents", but this was not quite true. When the local authority carried out an opinion poll about the monument in 2013, only 8% said that they wanted it destroyed, and only 12% wanted it moved to a far-off location. The vast majority of people – 72% – said that they wanted the memorial to be put back in the square exactly as it was. Nevertheless, Law and Justice activists launched a campaign to block the memorial's return. They called it a monument to shame. They claimed that it did not represent Polish history, but a falsification of that history by a foreign power. They said that the only thing it commemorated was Poland's subjugation to the Soviet Union.
Gradually, the local authority began to give way. In 2015, after the Law and Justice party made big gains in the local election, Warsaw City Council finally decided that they would not bring the monument back after all. Instead, it would be donated to a museum.
The fate of the "Four Sleepers" was finally sealed this year, when the Museum of Polish History announced that it had acquired the memorial. They planned to house it in a different part of Warsaw, in a hall that will not be finished until 2021, where it will be displayed along with other memorials to the more "shameful" aspects of Poland's recent past. Consequently, it will never be returned to its historical position in Wilenski Square.
The "Four Sleepers" monument is just a single casualty in a war over the memory of 1945 that has swept across Poland in recent years. After the Law and Justice party won power in 2015, several other war memorials were taken down. Then, last year, the government announced a programme to remove all Soviet war memorials except those that mark genuine burial places. More than 400 monuments have been scheduled for removal.
It is not only Poland that has embarked on such a programme. In 2015, the Ukrainian government also passed a law aimed at the complete de-Sovietisation of the country. It included the removal of all Soviet symbols and statues, and the renaming of thousands of streets, towns and villages. This was carried out quite quickly. Earlier this year, the director of the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance, Volodymyr Vyatrovych announced that the de-Communisation of the nation had been achieved.
Similar controversies have hit Soviet war memorials all over eastern and central Europe. The "Monument to the Heroes of the Red Army" in Vienna is regularly vandalised. The "Monument to the Soviet Army" in Sofia has been daubed with paint repeatedly – sometimes in jest, but more often in protest over recent actions by the Russian government. The "Victory Monument" in Riga was bombed in 1997 by a far-right Latvian nationalist group, and since then WWII veterans have repeatedly called for it to be taken down. In Estonia, in 2007, the Bronze Soldier memorial to the "liberators of Tallinn" was removed from the city centre and relocated in the military cemetery a few kilometres away, sparking two days of protest by Tallinn's ethnic Russian minority.
The removal or dismantling of these monuments makes many people in Europe extremely uncomfortable. Many regard it as a form of cultural vandalism similar to the 16th century destruction of art in English churches, or the destruction of ancient sites in Syria and Afghanistan by Islamic State. However, nationalist politicians in Eastern Europe point out that they are not destroying Soviet monuments. In most cases they are only moving them to museums or sculpture parks, where art lovers can still appreciate them if they wish.
I can well understand the desire of nationalists to free themselves from a past that they find uncomfortable and humiliating. It is true that the Soviet Union dominated eastern Europe for 40 years, and that many of the monuments they erected were little more than propaganda. Why should such monuments be given pride of place in the streets and squares of Kiev and Warsaw?
Nevertheless, I am concerned by what will take their place now that they are being removed. Today, an empty plinth sits in the Warsaw square where the “Four Sleepers” monument used to stand. There have been many suggestions for new statues that might fill this plinth, most of them involving nationalist heroes. This, again, is a typical story. According to historian Katrin van Cant, around 90% of the new monuments that have appeared in Warsaw in recent years depict figures from national history, and by far the largest number depict Polish heroes the Second World War. In other words, an internationalist view of the Second World War is being replaced with a purely Polish view. This too is a form of propaganda.
Surely the more nuanced approach – and, in my opinion, the more interesting approach – would be to allow both versions of history to stand side by side? Many Poles were indeed heroes during the Second World War. But many Russians were also heroes. One does not need to approve of Stalin, or the Russian government, to acknowledge that thousands of ordinary Russian soldiers gave their lives in 1945 to save Poland from the Nazis.
In the meantime, the argument about this issue makes me wonder: what is the real purpose of our historical monuments? Do we erect them in order to commemorate the past? Or are we only really interested in making a statement about what is important to us today?
As I said in my last article, Russia uses its Second World War monuments to project an image of greatness to itself and to the world. It is remembering its past, but also trying to forge a strong identity for the future. Poland is doing the same thing.
I can't help feeling that this quest for national greatness must come at a cost. All around the world, nations are erecting fewer monuments to friendship between peoples, and more monuments to national power and independence. It is enough to make any historian feel apprehensive.
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