The Katyń massacre has already been described many times, especially after 1990, when Mikhail Gorbachev handed over some of the related documents to Wojciech Jaruzelski and the TASS agency revealed the details of the operation. But before that happened, the Soviet Union actively distorted the history of the Katyń Massacre for 50 years.
The so-called “Katyń Lie” manifested itself primarily in the form of a lack of information about the massacre or disinformation involving attempts to blame Nazi Germany for the NKVD crimes. As it turns out, it was not only the Russians and the Polish communist government who took part in this distortion, but unfortunately, the British participated in that process.
During the war, this attitude of the British was understandable, as maintaining good relations with the Soviet Union was crucial for the defeat of the Nazi Germany. Unfortunately, after the end of hostilities, for reasons best known to themselves, Her Majesty’s successive governments continued to have no interest in revealing the truth about the Katyń Massacre.
The British government continued its policy of remaining silent about Soviet responsibility for the Katyń massacre, even when the Polish media asked about it. In 1990, Professor Norman Davies, an adamant spokesman for the fight for truth, asked the Foreign Office whether it was not time to abandon the previous policy of silence. The answer said there was still no direct evidence of Soviet guilt, only indirect evidence.
Of course, there is not the slightest doubt that the British knew the truth almost from the beginning. This is evidenced, for example, by the failure to include the Katyń case among the charges against the Germans at the Nuremberg Trial in 1946, against the apparent demands of the Soviets. This was mainly because the Polish government in London handed over the indictment, drafted by Wiktor Sukiennicki, Professor of Law at Vilnius University, which ran to several hundred pages and proved the Russians’ guilt beyond any doubt.
However, preventing the legal sanctioning of the decision to blame the Germans for the crimes was only a tiny success of Polish diplomacy in exile. For, above all, it was a matter of punishing those guilty of this crime, and this, unfortunately, never happened.
As the years passed, the chances of the Soviets suffering any consequences for their actions diminished, so as a form of reparation to those who were then murdered, Polish emigrants in Britain chose to erect a memorial.
Ryszard Kaczorowski, former President of the Republic of Poland in Exile who died in the Smolensk air disaster, said: “The Katyń massacre was only one tragic and extremely brutal manifestation of the actions of the leaders of the Soviet Union, aiming at the planned destruction of the Polish intelligentsia and turning our Homeland into a slavish satellite of communism. The string of these criminal actions ended only with the defeat of Soviet totalitarianism. (…) Not all wounds are healed by time; some only heal. Painful scars remain in our national memory, but particular scars are etched in the memories of mothers and wives, sons and daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of murdered Polish soldiers. Their loss was an irreparable calamity also for the national cause and for the Country, which was rebuilding itself from the devastation of war.”
The Committee for the Construction of the Katyń Memorial was formed in October 1971. It was composed of Poles and Britons. At the same time, fundraising for the construction of the monument was underway. The main donors were Polish emigrants from all over the world, as well as families of officers murdered in Katyń. Patronage over the construction was headed by the President of the Republic of Poland in Exile, August Zaleski, followed by President Stanisław Ostrowski. From the very beginning, however, the work was proceeding apace. Originally, the monument was to stand at the junction of Cromwell Road and Thurloe Place, opposite Brompton Oratory. Then on the square in front of St Luke’s Church in London.
However, trade negotiations between the UK and the People’s Republic of Poland were underway at the time, and the British authorities were not too keen on the subject of Katyń. The Anglican Church was also against it, so the initiators of the idea had to change their plans. Eventually, city councillors found a piece of land in Gunnersbury Cemetery in the southwest of the city to be granted to the stubborn Poles.
However, the problems did not end there. When, in July 1976, after five years of disputes with the British authorities at all levels, it was finally possible to lay the foundation stone for the monument, the embassies of the USSR and the People’s Republic of Poland immediately protested because it was to bear the date 1940, which indicated the wrongdoer.
There was also controversy over the proposed placement of a crowned white eagle surrounded by a crown of thorns on the monument, which was intended to symbolise the communist enslavement of Poland at the time.
Despite all these adversities, the ceremonial unveiling of the obelisk took place on 18 September 1976 in the presence of around 8,000 people. It was a great event for the Polish émigrés, a huge proportion of whom were soldiers from the Anders Army and their families, people who had personally experienced Soviet aggression, occupation and captivity in the gulags.
The ceremony, during which the Polish anthem, the British anthem and fanfares from Andrzej Panufnik’s work Sinfonia Sacra were played, was attended by representatives of the embassies of the United States, Bolivia, Colombia, Liberia, Brazil and Uruguay, but was not attended by invited representatives of the embassies of Western European countries and the Labour government of Prime Minister James Callaghan, who did not allow British military assistance.
In addition, British soldiers, officers and veterans were forbidden to show up at the ceremony in uniform. Despite this, British Army officers turned up at the cemetery in their military uniforms, in defiance of the prohibitions. The British authorities did not draw any consequences against them, not wishing to give the matter unwanted further publicity.
This stance by the UK authorities drew criticism from much of the English press, with Sir John Slessor, Marshal of the Royal Air Force, stating that the British government had shown “exceptionally bad manners and cowardly ingratitude” in the matter. In contrast, the grandson of Prime Minister Winston Churchill wrote a letter to the Times that the boycott of the ceremony by British politicians was “a sad and disgraceful tribute to the sacrifice of a brave (Polish) ally who entered the war in 1939”.
It was not until 1979, when Margaret Thatcher of the Conservative Party became Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, that the British government began to officially delegate its representatives to the annual commemoration of the victims of the Soviet crime.
“I know the importance of the Katyń commemorations for many members of the Polish community in the UK and their friends and supporters. That is why I have already decided that a government representative should attend the ceremonies.” With these words, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher decided to change London’s long-standing position on Katyń, which was to remain silent about Soviet crime.
It was also then, for the first time, that the Band of the Royal Irish Hussars played at the memorial. Until 1990, when the aforementioned admission by the Soviet authorities took place, official British participation in the anniversary commemorations at Gunnersbury provoked negative reactions and comments in Moscow.
The story of the Katyń Monument in London shows us how difficult the struggle of our compatriots in England was for the opportunity to bear witness to the truth and for at least a partial, moral rehabilitation of those whom the Soviets wanted to erase forever from the pages of history. The authors of the concept for the memorial, together with those who built it, faced an incredibly difficult and unprecedented task.
First and foremost, this was the first design for a memorial dedicated to Katyń that would make it clear that this unforgivable crime had been committed by the Communists. And it was, after all, from the British point of view that they were the allies who had helped to crack down on Hitler decades earlier, so attempts to denigrate them were very badly received in this situation.
Although more years had passed since the war, the British, for incomprehensible reasons, continued to persist in their loyalty to the Soviet Union, even though it was neither an ally or significant partner for the UK any longer, nor any real threat. Whatever the real reasons for this attitude on the part of the British, it had a considerable impact on the work of erecting the world’s first Katyn Monument.
The monument measures 6.5 metres and is made of black marble. At the top of the obelisk is a stylised image of the coat of arms of Poland surrounded by a wreath of barbed wire and the inscription KATYN and the date: 1940. The base of the obelisk bears two inscriptions, the first in Polish and the second in English: “To the memory of the 14,500 Polish prisoners of war who disappeared from the camps at Kozielsk, Starobielsk and Ostashkov in 1940, 4,500 of whom were later identified in mass graves at Katyn near Smolensk”.
One of the most important plaques placed on the top step is a small plaque in English that was placed on 21 April 1990, which adds to the information about the crime committed by the NKVD.
“As finally admitted in April 1990 by the U.S.S.R. after 50 years of shameful denial of the truth,” the plaque says.
In 2007, the film Katyń, directed by Andrzej Wajda, whose father, Jakub Wajda, was also a victim of the Katyń massacre, was released. In 2018, the film Katyń – The Last Witness was made in the UK. The film was directed by British director of Polish origin Piotr Szkopiak, whose grandfather, Wojciech Stanisław Wójcik, was murdered in Katyń. ‘The Last Witness’ is the moving story of a British journalist who learns the truth about the Katyń Massacre. The film is shown from a British perspective and allows us to learn what the British knew and know about this horrific Soviet crime. It is, therefore, mainly intended for an international audience. The title character, played by Robert Więckiewicz, was an eyewitness to the Katyń Massacre. It is interesting to note that he mysteriously died in the UK in 1947. To this day, it is not known who was behind it, but surely, his death was convenient for both the Soviets and the British authorities.
Thanks to their persistence, courage and commitment, Polish émigrés in the British Isles achieved their goal and emerged victorious from this uneven struggle for historical truth.
Marcin Majchrowski and Maria Byczynski
Photos: British Poles