After 1945, the ethnopolitical myth became the subject of considerable modification by those in power in Poland. The new authorities required a new perception of history, one that could be used in the political reality of the time related to the formation of the Eastern Bloc. As for the image of the âhistorical enemyâ, efforts were made to shape it primarily around Germany. However, the image of Russia was so strongly linked to this conceptualization that it was impossible to dislodge it. With help came the new ideology. Naturally, of course, all nations in the common socialist family were fraternal, while conflicts were only provoked by reactionary elements. Thus, the emphasis within the image of the âhistorical enemyâ was shifted from the country â Russia â to the system â tsardom. This procedure meant that the 19th-century image of Polish-Caucasian cooperation corresponded to the new approach to history as regards its worldview, albeit with minor differences. Thus, this specific perception of the Caucasus, which was largely linked to the political ambitions of the Polish independence émigrés, was solidified within the Polish Peopleâs Republic. However, no longer emphasized was the struggle against a partitioning Russia, but rather against tsardom, seemingly opposed by various national liberation movements, including the Polish and Caucasian. This was, of course, a result of the official ideology adopted by the power centre, to which slogans emphasizing the âstruggle for freedomâ of the oppressed popular masses corresponded. This phenomenon is well illustrated by the response of the editorial board of Przekrój (Cross-section), one of the most culturally generative magazines in the Polish Peopleâs Republic, given in 1965 to a letter of a reader interested in the activities of Imam Shamil. In it was stated that the imamâs person was the subject of much controversial deliberation among historians â some saw in him a leader of a reactionary movement, while others identified his positive national liberation values. The editors stressed that the latter judgement had become widely accepted (Odpowiedzi 1965: 15).
The perception in Poland of the movement headed by Imam Shamil was directly related to its reception in the Soviet Union. What the actual position of the Soviet authorities was is well illustrated by the case of the publication of a book by Russian historian and Caucasian scholar Nikolai I. Pokrovsky titled Kavkazskie vojny i imamt Å amilya (The Caucasian Wars and Shamilâs Imamate). It was published only in 2000, although it was written as early as the 1930s. The authorâs son, Nikolai N. Pokrovsky wrote in the introduction to the modern edition that his fatherâs work was supposed to have appeared before World War II in the Sotsekgiz publishing house. However, in 1937 its editors demanded that the author more clearly emphasize the fact that the movement of the peoples of the north-eastern Caucasus in the 19th century was of a national liberation nature and directed against the colonial policy of tsarism (Pokrovskij N.N. 2000: 4). Due to Nikolai I. Pokrovskyâs low commitment to making corrections per political specifications, his monograph was not published at the time.
Sotsekgizâs position stemmed from the fact that in the Soviet Union, up to the 1940s, Shamilâs activities were presented as a struggle for social liberation against tsardom and Shamilâs local property-owning classes. Subsequently, however, it came to be seen as a reactionary nationalist-religious movement standing in the way of the civilisational progress being carried out by Russia. In this period, too, the narrative was enriched by an emphasis on the clandestine nature of the murids. This is well illustrated in the work Å amilʾ â stavlennik sultanskoj Turcii i anglijskix kolonizatorov (Shamil â protégé of sultanic Turkey and the English colonisers) published under the editorship of Shalva Tsagareishvili in Tbilisi in 1953. Such perceptions of Shamil fell out of use in the second half of the 1950s, which should be linked to the changes in the USSR occurring after Stalinâs death (Ciesielski 2003: 8â9). Later, the possibilities around describing the struggle of the Caucasian peoples against Russia were significantly liberalized, though its predominant portrayal as a national liberation struggle against a reactionary regime persisted.
Also in Poland, when the first individuals interested in Caucasian studies began appearing after World War II, Shamil was portrayed in a positive light and his movement was spoken of as a struggle of the âoppressed national massesâ against tsarism, just as in the Soviet Union. For this reason, it is difficult to find a text from this period in which the author evaluated the imamâs activities negatively. Only instances of placing unfavourable allusions to the religious nature of his movement appeared. One such example is the work Kaukaz (The Caucasus) by Grażyna and Andrzej MiÅosz. Although Shamil is portrayed therein mainly as an outstanding strategist and social reformer (above all as one who knocked down class divisions) â the abolition of the beksâ privileges being underlined â congruently negative statements concerning religious aspects appear, like that he attracted believers âobsessed with fanaticismâ (MiÅoszowie 1979: 55).
Throughout Polandâs communist period one really does not encounter publications that fail to conform to the official interpretation of the history of the highlandersâ struggle against the Russians and the Polesâ participation in this development. The slogan âFor our freedom and yoursâ was quite popular at the time. It was by this slogan that journalist StanisÅaw Pagaczewski described Polish deserters from the Russian army who went over to the side of the highlanders (Pagaczewski 1963: 115). Polish scholars did the same. This is well illustrated by the journalistic article UdziaÅ Polaków w walce o wolnoÅÄ ludów Kaukazu (Participation of Poles in the Struggle for Freedom of the Peoples of the Caucasus), which appeared in 1957 in a series titled Polacy na barykadach wolnoÅci (Poles on the Barricades of Freedom) in the magazine Wojsko Ludowe (Peopleâs Army). The articleâs author, Piotr Åossowski, one of the best-known historians of the second half of the 20th century, argued that Poles fought following the ideals of the slogan âFor our freedom and yoursâ and that:
There existed no place in Europe or the world where the cause of freedom was defended, where the power of tyrants was challenged, that the Poles had not reached. They were also to be found in the remote and inaccessible mountains of the Caucasus, whose inhabitants heroically resisted the violence of the Tsardom over several decades. (Åossowski 1957: 44)
In another passage, however, he noted that âthe tsarist armies conducted their activities in the Caucasus with unheard-of crueltyâ. The author clearly avoided the term âRussiaâ and rather than emphasize that the highlanders had fought against Russia as a state, emphasized the struggle against the system â tsardom. Further in the article Åossowski wrote: âForcibly conscripted into the tsarist army, the Poles were used against their will and convictions to fight against the Caucasian highlanders. Under these conditions, their desire was to desert from the hated ranksâ. He also stressed that âthe role played by Polish deserters and prisoners of war among the Caucasian highlanders has not been sufficiently studied to date. In any case, even in Shamilâs immediate circle, there were quite a few of themâ. Elsewhere, he added that âthe Caucasian highlanders became natural allies of the Poles, united by their struggle for freedom against a common enemyâ (Åossowski 1957: 46). Thus, the tone of the article is very similar to that of one Romantic poem by Konstanty GaszyÅski. In both texts, Poles were depicted as humiliated victims of the system. Also in both texts appeared the motif of âdreams of desertionâ, which were to be realized by an âescape from disgraceâ and culminate in a kind of catharsis â through the switching of sides to the independent highlanders.
Piotr Åossowski partially based his arguments on the Polish émigré press of the 19th century, noting that:
For example, Demokrata Polski (The Polish Democrat) in 1846 wrote: âShamil, as always, had a retinue of Polish uhlans with himâ, while Dziennik Narodowy (National Daily) of that year reported: âShamil always rode on horseback at the head of a select guard, composed in large part of Polish uhlans and Cossack cavalryâ. (Åossowski 1957: 47)
Thus, what occurred was the reinforcement of a messaging not grounded in news from the Caucasus, but rather crafted in the 19th century for ideological reasons.
The changes that have taken place in Polish historical policy are well illustrated by its attitude towards Karl Marx. In his article, Åossowski referenced details about the philosopherâs interest in Polish activities in the Caucasus, which was thereby supposed to âennobleâ them in the eyes of readers. Today, however, state institutions are reluctant to go to such lengths, considering Marx to be an extremely negative figure. This involves attempts to discredit Marxâs legacy and âsaddleâ him with blame for the rise of Soviet communism. In light of this, for Poles, especially those with right-wing views, he has become a symbol of a murderous system. This is well illustrated by publications of the Institute of National Remembrance, which is one of the main tools of the Polish authorities for shaping historical policy. One example is an article in which two Institute employees stated that Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels were the first philosophers in history to allow and justify genocide as a means to an end (Mandela, Kowal 2017: 2â3). Jan Sowa noted that Polish scholars also exorcise Marx. As an example, he cited one of them, in whose opinion the presence of Marxism in anti-colonial discourse is mainly due to the political machinations of the USSR (Sowa 2011: 444â448).
The fact that Marx was one of the greatest supporters of Polish independence among 19th-century European intellectuals has gone by the wayside. During Polandâs communist period, however, there were as of yet no negative perceptions of the philosopher, and even, on the contrary, his commitment to the cause of liberation of the peoples fighting against Russia (or, according to the terminology of the time, the tsarist system) was emphasized. Piotr Åossowski noted that Marx took a keen interest in the liberation struggle of the Caucasian highlanders, which he considered just, and condemned European governments for indifferently watching their annihilation. He was also a close follower of the battles in the Caucasus and noted Shamilâs successes with joy. In the article, Åossowski cited one of the philosopherâs notes, in which he wrote about the âmagnificentâ victories of Shamilâs forces over Russian troops. Another material presented by Åossowski was an excerpt from the Manifesto edited by Marx for the International Working Menâs Association (the First International), in which the following passage can be found:
The shameless approval, mock sympathy, or idiotic indifference with which the upper classes of Europe have witnessed the mountain fortress of the Caucasus falling a prey to, and heroic Poland being assassinated by, Russia: the immense and unresisted encroachments of that barbarous power, whose head is in St. Petersburg, and whose hands are in every cabinet of Europe. (Marx 1864)
In Åossowskiâs view, Marx placed the Polish uprisings and the liberation struggle of the peoples of the Caucasus on an equal level as examples of sacrificial and heroic struggle for freedom. The historian also cited information that Karl Marx held Teofil ÅapiÅski in very high esteem. The two met in London in 1863, when the Pole was preparing a naval expedition to Lithuania to deliver armed aid to the January insurrectionists. In a letter to Engels, Marx wrote: âThe most interesting acquaintanceship I have struck up here is that of Colonel Lapinski. He is, without doubt, the cleverest Pole â besides being an homme dâaction â I have ever metâ (Marx 1863). On the other hand, Marx devoted two articles to the case of ÅapiÅskiâs unmasking of the espionage activities of Colonel Janos Bangya,1 which he published in the New York Daily Tribune on 16 June and 23 September 1858, defending the Poleâs position.
A characteristic feature of the Polish narrative on the Caucasus during Polandâs communist period was that authors tended to show both the pluses and minuses, in their view, of the Russian conquest of the region (sometimes even only the minuses) in the tsarist period, but were then exclusively one-sided in their portrayal of the establishment of Soviet power there. This is well illustrated in a book by historians Wojciech Hensel and Ilia Tabagua, Gruzja wczoraj i dziÅ (Georgia Yesterday and Today), published in 1976. Presenting Russian actions in Georgia in the 18th century, the authors cited the example of tsarist general Gottlob Heinrich Curt von Tottleben, who commanded a detachment sent to the country in 1769. Officially, he was supposed to lead joint operations against the Ottoman Empire, with which Russia had been at war
since 1768, in conjunction with King Erekle II of Kartli and Kakheti. However, the general ended up conspiring with the kingâs opponents. When hostilities against the Turks in the Akhaltsikhe region were under way in April 1770, von Tottleben abandoned Erekle and returned with his army to Kartli. There he again intrigued against the king, who meanwhile won the Battle of Aspindza on 20 April 1770 and inflicted huge losses on the Turks. In another passage, the authors claimed that when in 1793 Erekle II learned that the Persian Shah was preparing for war against Georgia, he asked Russia for aid. The latter, in turn, based on signed treaties, was indeed obliged to provide it but refused to do so, and the king ended up not receiving any support. In their ultimate conclusions, the historians presented both positive and negative consequences of Russiaâs occupation of Georgia in the 19th century. On the one hand, they acknowledged that Russian rule brought Georgia the possibility of national survival, after having been severely weakened by the plundering policies of the Turkmen and Persians and invasions of Muslim Dagestani peoples, while the peace that prevailed under Russian rule promoted economic development. On the other hand, however, they noted that a tragic paradox in Georgian history was that it was the Tsardom, for whose aid the rulers of Georgia had hoped so much, counting on religious unity and cultural proximity, that dealt the fatal blow to Georgian statehood (Hensel 1979: 158, 162â165).
Dual assessments of Russiaâs annexation of the Caucasus also appeared in other publications from Polandâs communist period. The MiÅoszes pointed out that after the end of the Russo-Turkish War (1877â1878) Adjara, the Muslim part of Western Georgia, was liberated from the Turkish âyokeâ, while also adding that Russia pursued colonial oppression and Russification policies. The MiÅoszes also referred to muhajirism:
The tsarist authorities, after establishing control over the situation in the Caucasus, proceeded to systematically colonize the Circassian lands. Thousands of highlanders were displaced and forced to emigrate to Turkey. Refugees stripped of all their belongings and crowded under the sleepers of ships were decimated by epidemics en route. (MiÅoszowie 1979: 57, 75)
In turn, one of the most famous Polish writers and publicists of the second half of the 20th century, Józef Hen, wrote in one of his works about the difficulties of historical memory in the Caucasus: âthe names of people who are made out as heroes of one nation are a slap in the face of another. One cannot glorify the victories of Russian arms over Shamil [â¦] without bypassing the truthâ (Hen 1957: 162).
StanisÅaw Pagaczewski also spoke out negatively about the actions of tsarist Russia, believing she treated the region like a colony. Moreover, he mentioned the uprisings in Abkhazia against tsarist policies, the exploitation of Abkhazian peasants by tsarist officials, as well as the fact that after the Abkhazians emigrated to Turkey, the land ended up in the hands of tsarist landowners and monasteries. Monks were also negatively portrayed in Pagaczewskiâs book â as one of the main elements perpetuating tsarist (the author, writing about the negative consequences of Russiaâs occupation of the Caucasus, did not name the state, but the political system â tsardom) rule in the western part of the Caucasus. In his view, the clergy, supported by subsidies from the central government, educated Abkhazian youth in the spirit of loyalty and obedience to the tsar and Orthodox Church. In doing so, they preached sermons steeped in servilism, acted under the tsarâs raison dâetat at every turn, and stood as one of the pillars of the tsarâs colonization policy. The issue of the Russian conquest of the Caucasus was summed up by Pagaczewski with the statement: âthe tsarâs feet tread upon stones often stained with the blood of Abkhazians and Georgians, who fought for their freedom against Arabs, Persians, Mongols, Turks â¦â (Pagaczewski 1963: 163, 174â176).
Occasionally some authors during Polandâs communist period manipulated source texts to create a picture of the 19th-century Caucasus as a place of cooperation between Polish and Russian revolutionaries. Such an approach is evident, for example, in the book by historians Wojciech Hensel and Ilia Tabagua. They proceeded from the premise that the joint struggle against tsardom brought progressive Poles, Georgians, and Russians together (Hensel, Tabagua 1976: 230). To support themselves through evidence, they referred to Mateusz Gralewski, who, to their mind, was friends with Russian exiles, most notably Vasyl Golovinsky, who belonged to a literary group of young intellectuals called the Petrashevsky Circle. Jan Reychman argued similarly, writing: âAt the foot of the magnificent peaks of the Caucasus, in shared misery threads of cordial friendship and cooperation were established between Polish and Russian deportees. One and the other saw tsardom as a common enemy and oppressorâ. Just a few lines later, the author added that Gralewski devoted heartfelt words in his memoirs to Golovinsky, a friend of the Poles and Russian exile to the Caucasus (Reychman 1954: 41â42).
However, from the content of Gralewskiâs memoirs, it does not appear that he had close relations with Russian revolutionaries. He did mention Golovinsky but portrayed the Russian as a traitor. Gralewski wrote that when Golovinsky ended up in the Caucasus, the Poles welcomed him like a brother. After some time, however, Golovinsky befriended tsarist commanders. The Poles were particularly concerned about his ties with Colonel Prince Vasilchikov and General Zakhar Maniukin, who were their superiors in the Shirvan regiment (it was in this regiment that Gralewski served). Gralewski reported that Golovinsky passed information entrusted to him in secret by the Poles to the officers, as a result of which they were subsequently subjected to harassment. The memoirs also include a conversation between the Poles and Golovinsky on Russian politics. The Russian stated: âWe are acting patriotically by resisting the West, which wants to support the Christian-prosecuting Turksâ. To the objection that the tsar is not in fact concerned about protecting Christians, but about taking land, he replied: âI am surprised that you do not understand that not only the tsar, but all of Russia has an interest in the eastern question; that our civilisational mission pushes us in these directions, and every Russian, along with the tsar, is interested in itâ. Golovinsky emphasized:
As for Poland, I will repeat to you what I have said, that if she were to renounce her separateness, if she were to agree to federate with us, all of Russia would support her. There will even come the moment when Russia is free, when she gets rid of the tsar, she will give you freedom from herself, but as a federated part. Though then Lithuania and Ruthenia, as provinces that have long been Russian, must belong to the Russian whole.
To accusations levelled by the Poles that, although he had been sentenced to death by the tsar, he remained his supporter, Golovinsky replied:
I am not and was not a supporter of tsarism, but I am, was, and will be a supporter of Tsar Nicholas. For is Nicholas not striving to abolish the supremacy of the nobility, is he not thinking of liberating the peasants? Certainly, he is the first democrat in Russia, and if I were allowed to stand before him during interrogation, and if I were to speak my thoughts to him, with him thus feeling the pulse of my blood, he would certainly press me to his chest as a father presses his son.
The Poles summed up the musings of this Russian, considered by them to be a representative of the liberals, with the words: âWe are ashamed of you progressives. You have deceived, you have misled the world with your cause. You have clothed yourselves in sheepskin. Enough â¦â (Gralewski 2015: 565â566).
These are the only passages relating to Golovinsky in Gralewskiâs memoirs, and it is difficult to substantiate the idea that the two shared a collegial relationship on their basis.
Overinterpretations of Gralewskiâs work aimed at portraying the Caucasus as a place of rapprochement between Polish and Russian revolutionaries acting against the tsar are also evident in the work of Grażyna and Andrzej MiÅosz. The authors wrote:
Polish and Russian exiles saw tsardom as a common enemy, so bonds of cordial friendship soon grew between them. One of the Russians â Korovayev, was sentenced to deportation to âwarm Siberiaâ for attempting to free Szymon Konarski in Vilnius,2 not only won the sympathy of many Poles but even superbly mastered the Polish language. Mateusz Gralewski, exiled in 1844 and author of the important book Kaukaz. Wspomnienia z dwunastoletniej niewoli, devoted many pages to Poles in the Caucasus and their relations with Russian exiles. (MiÅoszowie 1979: 72)
In reality, Gralewski wrote this about Korovayev:
There remained one Nikolai Korovayev, who was demoted and sentenced to Siberia for his intention to release Konarski from prison. He distinguished himself by his goodwill towards Poles and mingled almost exclusively in their circles. He learned Polish well, read and transcribed our forbidden works, distributed them to Poles to read and was always liked by them. It thus remained necessary to communicate with Korovayev to maintain at least one Russian soul in our venture. Careful probing of him convinced us, unfortunately, that Korovayev, too, was of one mind with the Russians, with Golovinsky and with the tsar, as to policy in Asia and Turkey. However, we were surprised to find that his opinion on Poland was the same as Golovinskyâs as if he had taken it straight from Golovinskyâs mouth. So what ought we have thought about his springing of Konarski? It was one great mystery to us. We asked him one time to tell us the story of this affair.
It turned out that Korovayev became involved in the freeing of the Polish independence activist out of his love for the wife of one of the other inmates. As proof of his affection, the woman demanded the springing of her husband, and, to give the matter a political cover, Korovayev was to additionally free Konarski from the prison. Moreover, Korovayev did not appreciate Prince
Trubetskoyâs actions towards the Poles. He declared: âIn loving Russia, I wanted the rage of one prince not to weaken the ties that nonetheless bound Poland and Russia togetherâ. Gralewski concluded this part of his memoirs with the words:
After such a clear statement from Korovayev, we lost in him our last Russian friend. We had been abandoned. We were left with the conviction that our most friendly relations with the most liberal Russians fracture when it comes down to our independence. Whoever claimed that he knew Russians sympathetic to the Polish cause was certainly mistaken. He did not understand these liberals, who with their superficial cooperation on occasion delude us, exploit and muddy our cause. The direction of their activities, seemingly at odds with tsardomâs, is identical to it in the desire to rule, albeit in a different form, over Poland, over Slavdom, over Asia and the entire world. The tsarist government, which is capable of reconciling itself in times of need with all governments and peoples, progressive or reactionary, mercantile or philosophical, exploits these liberals most openly, most skilfully and most dangerously for humanity.
There is no passage in Gralewskiâs memoirs in which any cooperation between exiled Poles and Russians did not end fairly quickly. In the Polish exileâs book, the Russians exiled for their revolutionary or liberal views basically hold views similar to the tsarâs. The best summary of Gralewskiâs thoughts on cooperation with âprogressiveâ Russians is a quote from his memoirs: âAny individual familiar with the situation in the Caucasus cried out: âGod save the people from the Russians, and especially from their liberals!! â¦âââ (Gralewski 2015: 567â568).
During Polandâs communist period, the establishment of Soviet power in the Caucasus was presented quite differently from the conquest of the Caucasus by tsarist Russia. Here no more room remained for presenting positive as well as negative aspects. Authors focused exclusively on the former. StanisÅaw Pagaczewski, who identified the harmful effects of tsarist activities, wrote about the Bolsheviks in the Caucasus in positive context only and attributed the blame for the fighting breaking out to their opponents. When it came to Georgia, for example, in the authorâs opinion everything started with the local Mensheviks carrying out bloody repressions against Bolsheviks. Thus the peace treaty between Georgia and Russia signed in May 1920 was broken, in his opinion, by the Georgian Mensheviks, who were said to have carried out a pogrom against Abkhaziaâs Bolshevik organization. It was this event that had forced the workers of Georgia and Abkhazia, aided by the Red Army, into an armed struggle that ultimately ended in victory in 1921 (Pagaczewski 1963: 164).
In Gruzja wczoraj i dziÅ we also find a tendentially put, positive aspect of the establishment of Soviet power. In the authorsâ opinion, the rejection by the Georgian authorities of the proposal put forward by the Bolsheviks to conclude an alliance against Anton Denikin was evidence of their anti-Soviet policy. According to the two historians, this was why the Caucasian National Committee of the Russian Communist Party sent a letter to the party and military centres of Soviet power asking to provide armed assistance to the peoples of Transcaucasia in their struggle against bourgeois rule. The said work also negatively portrayed the brief period of the Transcaucasian statesâ independence between 1918â1920/21. As per the authors, territorial and national disputes quickly heated up at this time, ending unity and bringing âregrettableâ mutual persecution. Wojciech Hensel and Ilia Tabagua believed that partial responsibility for this should also be attributed to the Western powers. The pretext for the involvement of Germany, England, the United States, France, and even Turkey in the Transcaucasus, in their view, was to defend the independence of the Transcaucasian countries, but was in essence actually colonial policy (Hensel, Tabagua 1976: 191â193).
In the MiÅoszesâ book, the establishment of Soviet power in Azerbaijan is also positively portrayed. We find this passage therein:
In April 1918, the Council of Peopleâs Commissars, headed by Stepan Shaumian, was formed in Baku. It announced the nationalization of the oil industry, merchant fleet, banks, etc. But by July, the counter-revolution came to a head, with British and later Turkish troops entering. A bloody terror reigned in Azerbaijan, and punitive expeditions were rampant. On 30 September 1918, 26 Bakuvian commissars were executed. Throughout Azerbaijan and Dagestan, counter-revolutionaries, taking advantage of the multinational composition of the population, stoked mutual feuds, especially on religious grounds. The Caucasus became an arena of fierce class struggle. In Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia, bourgeois-nationalist governments took power. Germans and Turks were supposed to leave the Caucasus by November. New occupiers, however, appeared immediately â the Entente forces. (MiÅoszowie 1979: 61â62)
According to this workâs authors, after the English, followed then by the Turks, had entered, a âbloody terrorâ ensued in Azerbaijan. This is probably a reference to the massacres of Armenians that took place in Baku in September 1918. However, the authors fail to mention anything about the mass killings of Muslims in March of that same year, in which one of the key roles was played by the Bolshevik Stepan Shaumian.
The MiÅoszes presented the 11th Red Army as a force bringing aid to the people of the Caucasus in defence against the troops of the âwhitesâ. The Bolsheviks, according to the authors, were to have liberated the lands on which the Mountain Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic and Dagestan Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic were later established, and then incorporated into the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. The Red Army garnered merit not only through its liberation of the North Caucasus. The authors claimed that the reactionary government in Azerbaijan was overthrown in 1920 thanks to an uprising prepared by the Bolsheviks and supported by the 11th Red Army. When the Bolsheviks staged an uprising in the Borchaly uezd in February of 1921, Red Army troops assisted them there also against the counter-revolutionary forces ruling Georgia. The MiÅoszesâ approach to the issue of Armenia was similar. In this case, too, they wrote that a popular armed uprising broke out against the nationalist government, and the Red Army came to the aid of the insurrectionists. As a result, the nationalist government was overthrown and on 29 November 1920 the creation of the Armenian SSR was proclaimed. The MiÅoszes, who, writing about the 19th-century Caucasus stated that âthe tsarist authorities per the old Roman principle of divide et impera skilfully stoked national antagonisms, which led to frequent unrest, bloody brawls, and often even to slaughterâ (MiÅoszowie 1979: 62â63, 293), did not opt for a similar reflection when it came to the Soviet period. For this reason, therefore, the reader will learn nothing of the uprisings against Soviet power in the 1920s in both the North Caucasus and the Transcaucasian republics of Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia.
A researcher may face interpretive difficulties with the work titled Skromny chÅopiec w haremie (A Modest Boy in the Harem) by Józef Hen. In general, it was written in a balanced tone and it is difficult to find within it the influence of official ideology. However, one such passage did find its way in, not fitting in its resonance with the rest of the book: âFinally, the most brilliant man in the world was a Georgian, leader of progressive humankind, vanquisher of Hitlerism, a genius of economics, linguist, builder of socialism, a friend of nations, the sun of the fatherland, creator of the Constitution and standard bearer of peaceâ (Hen 1957: 161). Although the name of the person to whom the quote refers is not mentioned, it is clear that the individual in question is Joseph Stalin. This is a unique passage; apart from it, there are no other analogous ones that could be interpreted as glorification of Soviet power or the communist system. Given the year the book was published, 1957, perhaps the passage is the aftermath of a censorâs tampering. Nor can it be ruled out that the hyperbole used by Hen was actually meant to portray the Soviet leader ironically.
When Poland belonged to the bloc of socialist countries, works devoted to the Caucasus dealt with topics that could be placed in the category of âbrotherhood and friendship between communist nationsâ. World War II was well suited for this purpose, especially the case of Polandâs liberation from Nazi occupation by the Red Army. This theme was exploited, for example, by Ryszard Badowski. In his work Lechici znad Tereku (Lechites from along the Terek) he introduced several Ossetian generals who, while serving in the Red Army, took part in driving the Germans out of Poland.
Not only World War II became an amplifying theme for the ideology of the fraternal struggle of the popular masses. Similar was the theme of Polesâ participation in the establishment of Soviet power in the Caucasus. In this regard, the figure of MichaÅ Lewandowski led the way uncontested. He was born in Tiflis into the family of a Polish unterofficer, who remained in the region after having served in the tsarist army in the Caucasus. Lewandowski, as a soldier residing in Petrograd during the 1917 revolution, sided with the Bolsheviks. He then became a communist activist and organized the Red Guard in the Caucasus, in which he served as a peopleâs commissar for military affairs of the Terek Soviet Republic. He was also the commander of the Vladikavkaz-Grozny Army Group, and from January 1919 â commander of the Bolshevik 11th Army. The figure of Lewandowski was recalled in a report by Ryszard Badowski, who noted that the Pole was a hero of the revolutionary struggle in Chechnya-Ingushetia and a co-organizer of the contingents that liberated Vladikavkaz in the spring of 1920 (Badowski 1977: 63). Andrzej Chodubski also dedicated a journalistic article to this activist, in which he wrote that the 11th Army, which MichaÅ Lewandowski had established, liberated the North Caucasus, Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia. It made the seizure of power by the popular masses possible in the Caucasus in 1920. This researcher of Polish-Caucasian relations also added that Lewandowski took part in the liberation of Georgia, where he freed, among others, the city of Kutaisi (Chodubski 1982: 5). Polish traveller Tadeusz Lankamer, describing his expedition to Transcaucasia, also recalled the revolutionary activities of Poles writing:
The 19th century was a period of Russification and fomentation of feuds between peoples throughout Transcaucasia and the development of capitalism. The struggle against the policies of tsardom, against the increased exploitation of the working class created by the expansion of industry, and the development of the labour movement, was the result of the opposition of local society to the existing reality. Poles, there in the thousands, had a significant share in this struggle. Transcaucasia, and above all Georgia, was a place of exile for Polish patriots. Poles fraternised with Georgians and Azerbaijanis in the joint struggle against tsardom, often tasked therein with important assignments and achieving successes throughout the pre-revolutionary period, during its unfolding and after its victory â J. Cybulski (commissar in the Baku Council), J. Godlewski (co-founder of the Communist Party in Azerbaijan), who cooperated with local leaders of the revolution â S. Shaumian, S. Kirov, G. Ordzhonikidze. (Lankamer 1979: 18â19)
The Polish scholar who most often addressed the topic of Polish participation in the establishment of Soviet power in the Caucasus during Polandâs communist period was Chodubski. He was then of the belief that once the Bolsheviks had occupied the region, things were unquestionably better off than under the independent states of 1918â1920/21 or during the tsarist period. In the researcherâs opinion, the establishment of the communist system positively affected the Polesâ situation, which is well demonstrated by the conclusion to one of his articles, in which he wrote: âPoles suffered in the Caucasus until 1920 â until the victory of Soviet authority in the regionâ (Chodubski 1984: 4). From among Polish Bolshevik activists the scholar cited the figure of Jan Godlewski, a member of the initiating group for convening the illegal founding congress of the Communist Party (Bolsheviks) of Azerbaijan. Chodubski provided information that during the first congress of the CPB of Azerbaijan he joined its Central Committee, was a member of its Revolutionary Tribunal, and between 1923 and 1925 held the position of chairman of the Baku District Court. The politologist stressed that during the first years of Soviet rule in Azerbaijan, Polish communists sat in almost all the local government bodies. He further touched on the subject of Polesâ involvement in the issue of the Caucasusâ atheisation:
Of all the activities of Polish communists in Azerbaijan, the involvement of Polish women in emancipation and atheisation activities among Muslim women is also noteworthy. The main platform of atheisation activities was the League of Militant Atheists. It was headed by Ignacy DÄbicki. Poles constituted an asset to the organization. (Chodubski 1983a: 5)
The MiÅoszes also touched upon the revolutionary activities of Poles in the Caucasus in their work. Among other things, they familiarized their reader with the character of Jerzy Fronczewski, who was arrested in 1898 for founding a Marxist circle in Batumi and printing the first Georgian translation of the Manifesto. In the MiÅoszesâ book, the reader may discover additional curiosities that do not currently appear in publications by other Polish authors. Describing a museum in Grozny, they noted that in the room dedicated to the revolution hung a photograph of an old man wearing a sheepskin papakha and Chechen burka. Its caption informed that this was one of the leaders of the revolution in Chechnya â Nuridin TorczyÅski. The Pole was born in Kalisz and served in the tsarist army in the Caucasus in the late 19th century. In 1900 he took part in an assassination attempt on the governor of the Caucasus, General Grigory Golitsyn. The assassination attempt failed, the conspirators were captured and only one â TorczyÅski â daringly managed to escape on horseback from the pursuing Cossacks. The fugitive went into hiding in Chechnya. He settled there permanently, took the name Nurydin, married a Chechen woman and soon won respect among the highlanders. While civil war raged in the Caucasus and Anton Denikin was besieging Grozny, TorczyÅski defended the city alongside the highlanders. The Red Army then rushed to the relief of the besieged and its commander listened with interest to TorczyÅskiâs autobiographical story. The authors concluded that they were supposed to have talked in Polish because this commander turned out to be a Pole as well â MichaÅ Lewandowski. Another source of pride for the MiÅoszes was the figure of Jerzy (Grigory) Andrzejewski, a Bolshevik activist in the Caucasus and son of a Pole exiled to Crimea. In their work, they mentioned that a pedestal was erected in Pyatigorsk with a bust of Andrzejewski, who had fought for the victory of the October Revolution and was murdered by the Whites. It is noticeable that the authors tried to avoid presenting any information that could portray Soviet rule in the Caucasus in an unfavourable light. For example, in a passage describing the Metekhi castle in Tbilisi, their regret that it had not survived to our times shines through (MiÅoszowie 1979: 95, 119â121, 123, 172), yet they fail to provide information that it was on the orders of the communist authorities that the monument was blown up in 1959. The MiÅoszes, who wrote extensively on the colonization and displacement of the Adyghe in the 19th century by the tsarist authorities, never mentioned the displacement of Chechens, Ingush, Balkars, and Karachays carried out by the Soviet authorities.
After the political changes in Poland of the late 1980s and early 1990s, authors virtually ceased including information in publications related to the history of the Caucasus concerning the merits of Poles in establishing Soviet rule in the region. This was probably due to the belief that such a topic is a cause for âshameâ and should be shelved.
It is worth noting that Polish-Caucasian academic cooperation did develop during the existence of the socialist bloc. In the 1970s, there was cooperation between the University of Åódź and Tbilisi State University. As a result, the first university entity in Poland to deal with the study of the Caucasus was established â the Interdisciplinary Team for Polish-Caucasian Scientific Research at the University of Åódź (GÅowacki 1998: 56). Around the same period, there was an increase in Poland in the frequency of popular science and scholarly books on the Caucasus. However, these were compilation works, based primarily on Soviet materials. Another problem was that during Polandâs communist period it was difficult to undertake academic research that did not conform to the prevailing communist ideology. This is well illustrated by the case of Professor Wojciech Materski,3 who in the late 1980s was collecting materials for a monograph on the Democratic Republic of Georgia between 1918â1921. For this reason, he twice applied for a trip to Tbilisi, citing as his aim his desire to conduct research on the history of Georgia in the years 1917â1922. He however kept failing to obtain permission from the Academy of Sciences of the USSR. On the advice of his supervisor, Materski changed the research topic in his documentation to âGeorgia. Origins of Dynamic Developmentâ and immediately received approval from the Soviets. Ultimately, the historianâs book, Georgia rediviva: Republika GruziÅska w stosunkach miÄdzynarodowych, 1918â1921 (Georgia Rediviva: The Georgian Republic in International Relations, 1918â1921), was published in 1994 and was the first monograph on the Caucasus on the Polish publishing market after the political changes in Central and Eastern Europe.
In Wojciech Materskiâs opinion, the problem with historiography concerning the Caucasus from Polandâs communist period should be linked to the fact that Polish scholars, at least until the mid-1950s, accepted the theses of Soviet historiography, which were considered unofficially binding. Meanwhile, in later periods, polemics against these theses could make it difficult to function in the academic community, e.g. by limiting oneâs chance for professional promotion and, above all, preventing travel to the USSR to conduct research. Resultingly, Polish researchers avoided taking up controversial topics that could be frowned upon by the centres of power. Thus, during Polandâs communist period, issued publications covered literary contacts, a compilation history of the region, the contribution of Poles to the establishment of Soviet rule in the Caucasus, or activities of the Polish intelligentsia in the Caucasus, such as writings by 19th-century exiles.
Wojciech Materskiâs opinion on this issue is similar to Viktor Shnirelmanâs observations regarding historiography in the USSR when an effective system of its control was established. According to the anthropologist, it consisted not so much of official censorship, but, above all, of strict self-censorship and pressure from colleagues and co-workers, felt at highly varying levels. Each manuscript had to thus be formally discussed at academic meetings of the department or section. It was then referred to the scientific council of the respective unit (an institute or university). Special weight was given to both the opinion of the directorate and the local party committee. If the manuscript passed successfully through this instance as well, it went to the editor of the publication in question, who searched not so much for scientific as political errors.
János Bangya, who travelled with Teofil ÅapiÅski to the Caucasus, turned out to be a Russian spy.
Szymon Konarski (1808â1839) was an independence activist and participant in the November Uprising. He was sentenced to execution, and his punishment was carried out on February 27, 1839. His grave was trampled with horses so that it would never be found.
Wojciech Materski provided information on this subject to the author of this paper during a 2018 consultation.