VOLHYNIA WE WILL AVENGE: VOLHYNIA WE WILL FORGET

VOLHYNIA WE WILL AVENGE: VOLHYNIA WE WILL FORGET (2018)

The genocide in Volhynia during the occupation of these lands by the Third Reich, carried out by the native Ukrainian population and retaliated against by the Poles, remains an unprocessed chapter in the history of these two nations. The rise of nationalist sentiments in both Poland and Ukraine leads to the exhumation of these events and the construction of new narratives and tensions around them.

At the beginning of 2018, the Polish government proposed and passed a controversial law concerning the Institute of National Remembrance (IPN), which effectively equated the actions of Nazi Germany with all activities of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA). This act resonated strongly in Ukraine. In response, Ukrainian surgeons and scientists withdrew their participation from the long-standing Polish-Ukrainian Surgical Days. On April 18, 2018, outraged by the actions of the Polish government and parliament, the Board of the Polish Surgical Society issued a resolution regarding the IPN law. In their resolution, the surgeons wrote, among other things:

"Aware that a scholar is one who humbly never ceases to ask questions, constantly seeks answers, but also listens and tries to understand statements contrary to their own views.

Aware that scientific research should not be subject to moral or ideological judgments, even when dealing with controversial issues.

We strongly oppose the passed law on the Institute of National Remembrance.

On the fiftieth anniversary of the shameful events of March ’68, we also oppose the context in which this law was placed and the portrayal of Poland and Poles in an unfavorable light before the free and democratic world."

However, this resolution passed without wider impact; a planned scientific conference did not take place. Further accusations arose on both sides: lack of goodwill from Ukrainians, Polish nationalism in the narrative, including references to Ludwik Rydygier and the Polish school of surgery in Lviv. This created a space for an action that should transcend official statements and be voiced louder in the public sphere. By exhibiting the billboard "Volhynia We Will Avenge" in the center of Gdańsk – Wrzeszcz, the author seeks to provoke discussion about the current state of Polish-Ukrainian relations through controversy.

The two-stage project, conducted as a public intervention, involves displaying on a city billboard a work referencing 19th-century Polish landscape painting, signed by the fictitious association GLIZDY DLA OJCZYZNY ("Worms for the Homeland"), calling for avenging the victims of Volhynia. The nationalist climate of the emerging change, like spring, awakens the dormant seed of new revival from the ground. The titular worms, sensing a favorable time for themselves, crawl out from the Polish emblem carrying their resentments. Additionally, the placement of the Polish Eagle in a position reminiscent of Matejko’s painting Battle of Grunwald evokes associations with the partitions and the dream of reclaiming “what is Polish.” The work, inherently critical and pastiche in nature, sparked a fierce reaction from Polish society, including an abusive internet campaign, threats against the author, and even a poster picket featuring prayers and manifesto readings. Prosecutors have been investigating the poster’s content since June 2019. The billboard owner, a commercial company, covered the poster within a week due to pressure from a corporation promoting products on adjacent billboards.

This reaction gave the project meaning and necessitated the second phase: organizing a performance in Volhynia. The author, accompanied by his son and Ukrainian friends, symbolically buried national symbols and historical books concerning Volhynia — both Ukrainian and Polish. The older generation remained at the burial site, symbolically guarding the historical truth enclosed in this symbolic sarcophagus, while the young moved toward the future. They do not see the worms; they walk toward the sun. The music is also symbolic. The video documenting the action opens with the sounds of a Soviet propaganda song from the space conquest era. The glorious events and new perspectives of communist success were meant to cover up history. Years of silence have led to distortion, and now no real truth about Volhynia exists. Both sides have created their own narratives over decades. Both have suffered under the communist system, which prevented an objective assessment of history. In Ukraine, the dream of freedom smolders; in Poland, nostalgia for the Second Republic. The second part of the film is scored with an Italian partisan song from World War II. This is a deliberate choice. By reaching to southern Europe, stepping away from Polish-Ukrainian affairs, it shows the universal nature of the uprising in defense of values. The older, burdened by reflection, and the younger, exhausted but enthusiastic, try through action to affirm the words: “when the country is in danger – rise up.” Partisan fighting, like political happenings, was always an adventure with friends, away from home, for some higher value. The final scene shows the young walking away, free from national colors, toward the sun, accompanied by the sounds of Chervona Ruta — an informal anthem of Ukraine, sung at the Eurovision Festival (then a USSR song), distorted by Soviet propaganda. Its author, Volodymyr Ivasyuk, in the 1970s quietly revealed his views and attachment to values through art, a silent manifesto. Ivasyuk was found hanged in the forest several years later; his death remains unexplained to this day.

This is the closing bracket.

The conclusion of the project is no longer in the hands of the artist; it will be written by the prosecutor’s office and courts in Poland.