Lwów or L’viv?

Introduction

In the life of communities, nations, and states there sometimes occur exceptional events of an extraordinary significance which determine their future fate and constitute milestones in their history. The two uprisings which shook Lviv in November 1918 and ruined the Lvivians’ exiting world order were the first cry of the two nation’s new-born freedom and at the same time a blood-stained caesura in the history of Polish and Ukrainian independence. The second ‘spring of the nations’ inhabiting Central and Eastern Europe which took place in the autumn of 1918 proved a long-awaited moment for millions of people and brought them the freedom they had dreamt of. The multinational Austro-Hungarian monarchy collapsed, Germany plunged into a crisis after the lost war, and Russia was overtaken by the Bolshevik Revolution. The destruction of the old political order proceeded rapidly, and with the complicated ethnic relations the marking of new borders by the young states emerging from non-existence resulted in numerous and brutal conflicts. One of them was the Polish-Ukrainian War fought over Lviv and Eastern Galicia’s state affiliation. At the foundation of that unprecedented event lay also the considerable legacy of the past and the mutual grievances and claims.

The fall of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth –a vast multinational country in Central-Eastern Europe –ended with three partitions of its territory conducted by Russia, Prussia, and Austria in 1772, 1793, and 1795. The Commonwealth was a state full of internal contradictions and with an outdated economic system and anachronic agrarian relations. Its magnates had considerable influences, while the central authority was weak. Thus, during the period of creation of strong states with powerful armies and led by absolute monarchs, the Commonwealth’s fall was inevitable. It sunk in the depths of the late 18th century but the social divisions and inequalities, that is, some of the causes for its fall, did not die with it. Having divided their loot, the partitioners faced the necessity to find a modus vivendi with the local population, which differed ethnically depending on the partition. One of the tools used was the skillful antagonization of various national groups to suppress their pro-independence impulses. That was not difficult in the conditions in the Austrian partition, where the extensive German-speaking administrative apparatus tried to keep in check the national movements of Poles and Ukrainians, whose conflict was growing with the intensification of the modern nations’ self-awareness, the sense of their own uniqueness, and the necessity to cater to the interests of their community.

Born in the final days of the Great War, Eastern Europe became a playing field for triumphant nationalisms, whose aggressive foundation was nonetheless far ←19 | 20→from exclusively national impulses. As I have mentioned, the Polish-Ukrainian hostility had also deep social roots, based on stereotypes, perpetuated with the gradual mutual fostering of the mutual antagonism during the final days of Austria-Hungary.1 The national ideologies eagerly used the past and its legacy as weapon, seeing the bygone era as a handy instrument of mobilization of ‘their’ people against the ‘others,’ even though both groups had lived on shared land which had been their home. Poland, not to mention Ukraine, was still absent from the map of Europe. Nevertheless, both Poles and Ukrainians were ready to use violence to build their own national states.

On the threshold of the 20th century in Eastern Galicia three lives went on side by side: the Ukrainian, the Polish, and the Jewish one. Each one set the course for its community and gave it meaning. Of key importance here is the expression “side by side” as opposed to “together.” Something that was to a certain extent possible when both Poles and Ukrainians lived in a foreign country could not work when each of those nationalities attempted self-determination. The coexisting and seemingly inseparably connected communities, which backed their national banners with culture, denomination, or specific, often selective perception of their own history, were growing apart only to eventually find themselves on a collision course, which rendered normal, peaceful coexistence impossible.² Hence, it is difficult to resist the impression that both sides of the conflict were not only ready for its quick escalation during the upcoming period of fighting for their own states, but they also accepted the possibility of its transformation into a fratricidal fight. Which sadly soon became true.

The underlying cause for the dramatic fight for Lviv was that the Poles and Ukrainians were unable to develop a modus vivendi formula in the world organized according to a new geopolitical order an indicator of which became young national states. The state affiliation of Lviv and Eastern Galicia had to be determined through bloodshed. The Poles won, because, as Yurii Andrukhovych wrote, back then Lviv was their city, “and not in some abstract, extra-human dimension, but precisely in the most obvious, personal one –those were their gates, courtyards, and alleys; they knew them inside out even if only those were they had their rendezvous with their girlfriends.”³

For the Poles who took part in the November uprising against the forming West Ukrainian authorities and army the resistance they offered was a natural continuation of the struggle for freedom which had only been interrupted by the fiasco of the January Uprising but which did not end with it. Thus, the new generation took over the baton from the ancient veterans who remembered their own struggle against the Russian partitioner. Very symbolic in this context is the fact that in March 1933 one of the participants of the 1863 uprising became an honorary member of the Union of Lviv Defenders.4 The factor that determined the course and outcome of the Battle of Lviv was the mass participation of school and university students – determined, exhibiting bravery bordering on madness, and brought up in the patriotic spirit.

Poles were unwilling to give up Lviv, which not only its Polish inhabitants, but also the nation as a whole identified with the power of the former Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. That notion was still alive owing to the books by Henryk Sienkiewicz, which enjoyed extreme popularity at that time. Inconspicuously and probably to his own surprise, Sienkiewicz managed to appeal directly to the mentality of the Polish society, which craved stories about its national heroes and the days of grandeur, whose return was considered possible. In his novels, Lviv and other ‘Borderland’ localities were an arena of adventures and heroic deeds of colorful soldiers of Poland of old – defenders of its borders and heirs of its knightly glory. Written to hearten Poles when their homeland was absent from the map of Europe, Sienkiewicz’s Trilogy did pour into the hearts of Poles the faith in the resurrection of Poland against all odds.

During the partitions and the Austrian administration Lviv became to its Polish inhabitants a spiritual capital of the Polish lands. It constituted a symbol of the bygone historic glory, a center of national consolidation in the face of external danger, and, finally, a nursery for the intellectual, scholarly, scientific, and artistic cadres. Ukrainian historian Roman Lozynskyi admitted: “That national community and its culture, schools, and scholarly and scientific milieus cannot be fully described without mentioning Lviv.”⁵ For the Polish community in Austro-Hungary Lviv was tantamount to Poland, because, aside Krakow, it constituted an embodiment of a little homeland, a genius loci which left an imprint on the soul of every inhabitant. Poles living in Lviv were proud of their city and emphasized its national character. The partitioner authorities in a way seconded that as they made ←21 | 22→Lviv the capital of one of the Crown lands. Poles could not imagine Lviv being outside Polish borders after the reinstatement of Polish independence.

A soldier of the Legion of Ukrainian Sich Riflemen (YCC), Yaroslav Hrynevych, was dazed by Lviv’s aura when in October 1918 he and his brothers-in-arms for the first time got off the train from the Khersonshchyna at the Main Train Station. “We felt a strange elation in our hearts. There the indelible traces of the Ukrainian princes’ glory. There Zynovii Bohdan Khmelnytskyi earned his spurs. Here, over the city, sprawled the majestic High Castle and Saint George’s Cathedral –and on its cemeteries the revered graves of Ivan Franko, Markyian Shashkevych, and others.”6 At that time the idea of Ukrainian independence radiated predominantly from Lviv, and there beat its cultural and artistic heart. The Ukrainians treated Lviv as the historical capital of West Ukraine. Neither Ukrainians nor Poles intended to give up their rights, feelings, and traditions connected with that city, which became an inseparable element of the two nation’s history.

The collapse of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy rapidly sped up the two nations’ efforts to include the disputed terrains of the multi-ethnic borderland, including Lviv, in the new national states. The tense atmosphere that began with the announcement of the provisions of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk only became tenser after the riots started by school and university students in February 1918. The sentiments underwent a radicalization and neither of the nations inhabiting the shared territory could accept a thought that it could be outside their borders. With the Poles and Ukrainians establishing the seedbeds of their future authorities and military organizations, it was becoming increasingly probable that in the face of the ultimate collapse of Austro-Hungary the victorious Western powers’ military potential and possible support would determine the fate of Lviv and Eastern Galicia. Ukrainians felt threatened by the Polish claims to the lands they regarded as theirs. They feared the provisions of the nearing peace treaty because due to their stance and their elites’ political activity they had been associated with the losing camp of the Central Powers. Poland was reborn as an important ←22 | 23→French ally in the East. To anticipate the events, Ukrainians decided to take power over the disputed territory by force, using the method of fait accompli.

The armed uprising broke out in Lviv early on the early morning of 1 November 1918. Coordinated by the underground Ukrainian Military Committee (UWK), it was aimed directly against the collapsing Austro-Hungarian authority. The uprising’s indirect objective was to stop the takeover of Lviv by the Polish authorities established in Western Galicia, represented by the Polish Liquidation Commission (Polska Komisja Likwidacyjna, PKL) from Krakow, a delegation of which was to arrive in Lviv precisely on the afternoon of 1 November to take over power in the city and transfer it to the reborn Polish state upon consent from the Regency Council (Rada Regencyjna).7 In response to the takeover of Lviv by Ukrainian detachments subordinate to the Ukrainian Military Committee as soon as a few hours later individual groups of military men recruiting from ←23 | 24→underground organizations and civilian volunteers sprang to Polish interests’ defense. Around midday one could already also speak of a Polish uprising against the newly established Ukrainian authority. The city became a scene of fierce combat fought by Poles, Ukrainians, and Jews, who had used to be neighbors living on the same street and now turned against one another.8

The main Polish military organizations active in Lviv –the Polish Military Organization (Polska Organizacja Wojskowa, POW) and the Polish Military Cadres (Polskie Kadry Wojskowe, PKW) – ignored the possibility of a Ukrainian uprising. This is the only way in which one can explain the delay in the preparations for combat and the organizational shortcomings during its initial hours or even days. Anyhow, the confrontation did take place but not against the expected enemy. “It is a paradox of history that the Polish pro-independence military organizations were readying themselves for fighting the Austrian and German partitioners, while wishing for a peaceful settlement of the Polish-Ukrainian relations. However, they had to fight that war imposed on the Poles,” as Artur Leinwand aptly wrote.⁹

Thus, the two uprisings broke out in the same place and almost at the same time, quickly transforming into a bloody battle fought on the streets and in the suburbs with the use of all state-of-the-art means of warfare available at that time, such as, machine guns, hand grenades, artillery, and aircraft. That led to a transfer of the serious Polish-Ukrainian conflict, which had not gone beyond the political framework, onto the sphere of armed combat. Staged by a small number of poorly armed members of the pro-independence military organizations, the Polish uprising was soon joined by large numbers of Polish school and university students. In that way the initiative was taken away from the Ukrainian army and the Polish resistance was prolonged despite the lone perseverance of the Polish ‘island’ – the fighting Lviv in the East-Galician province inhabited mostly by Ukrainian and Ruthenian population –until the arrival of the succor, which determined the result of the battle.

The struggle for Lviv and Eastern Galicia during 1918–1919 has been described in many reference books and memoirs.¹⁰ A serious shortcoming of ←24 | 25→the literature on this topic is the individual authors’ entanglement in ideological and personal conflicts, the basis for which was the memory of the Polish-Ukrainian War which was still alive during that period and sometimes also the need to prove one’s own contributions and achievements. The sporadic post-1989 publications, both Polish and Ukrainian, were devoted predominantly to the 1918–1919 Polish-Ukrainian War, taking an overall look at the history of that conflict. Thus, the Battle of Lviv fought in November 1918 was described as just one of many events. Nevertheless, among many publications there were the valuable books penned by Michał Klimecki and Mykola Lytvyn. Although the two historians treated the battle fought in Lviv and in its suburbs in November 1918 like an episode in the broader military conflict between Poland and Ukraine, they brought in a lot of new findings.11

Thus, the impulse which encouraged me to write this book on the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Lviv was the certain gap in Polish historiography noticed as early as in the late 1930s, when born was the idea to publish the third volume of the edition of sources entitled Obrona Lwowa [defense of Lviv], which was to be devoted to the November battle. But then World War II broke out and the book was never written. Back in 1938 Eugeniusz Wawrzkowicz, the author of one of few monographs devoted to the fighting for Lviv in 1918, wrote: “no factual history of the Defense of Lviv has been written so far, one that would be free of exaggeration, written with a sense of factual reality, and one that would present the actual events from the factual perspective matching the historical truth.”¹²

Thus, the chronicle of the dramatic November events takes up a larger portion of this book, which ends with a description of the pogrom of the Jewish population conducted after the city was ultimately captured by the Polish troops. In an attempt to get an objective picture of the facts reported I tried to utilize the most important Ukrainian reference books and memoirs concerning that period for the purpose of giving that description possibly the ←25 | 26→fullest and most faithful character which emerged from the analysis of the sources left by the two sides of the conflict.