Since the adoption of the May 3 Constitution, the white-and-red colors have continually accompanied us in the most important moments of our history, both the beautiful and victorious ones and the tragic times. They give us strength we may not even be fully aware of.
The chronicler Marcin Bielski, writing in the 16th century, emphasized that already at the dawn of our history the mythical ruler Lech […] “ordered a white eagle to be placed on his banners as his coat of arms, and from that time the Kingdom of Poland has used this emblem.” During the times of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, that is after 1569, we already see a royal banner composed of two red elements separated by a white stripe, bearing two emblems – the White Eagle, symbolizing the Crown, and the Pahonia, the coat of arms of Lithuania. From the moment of the adoption of the May 3 Constitution in 1791, the white-and-red colors continuously symbolized the Polish state, which, as it soon turned out, would be erased from the map of Europe for over a hundred years. On the first anniversary of the adoption of our basic law, everyone who cared about the good of the Republic wore these colors pinned to their clothing. The patriots of that time, by adopting a law meant to save the sinking Republic, struck at the very core of Russian plans.
The Desire to Build the Homeland
Just two years after the First Partition in 1774, the Russian ambassador to Poland, Otto Magnus von Stackelberg, wrote in a confidential letter to his minister Nikita Panin: “Your Excellency knows well that we will not allow even the slightest mention of any change in the cardinal laws and fundamental matters of the state.” Our May 3 Constitution stood in opposition to Russian plans and therefore had to be destroyed by Russia, yet despite this, for decades – like the white-and-red colors – it became a symbol of our national aspirations. This was conveyed in an especially moving way by Pope John Paul II on the eve of laying the cornerstone for the construction of the Temple of Divine Providence, which was to be built immediately after the adoption of the Constitution as a votive offering of the nation. Unfortunately, the partitions, World War II, and communist rule in Poland meant that we had to wait 225 years to fulfill this resolution of the Great Sejm. In 2004, just before construction began, our Pope wrote: “We know what great hopes were associated with this Government Act, rightly seen as a tool for rebuilding political and social structures in the Homeland after the First Partition. It was not given to the Poles to implement it, and those hopes seemed to fade along with the suffering brought by subsequent partitions, uprisings, and captivity. It seems, however, that the constant return to the spirit of that memorable May 3, to those patriotic feelings, to the love of the common good paid for with the tribute of blood, and to the desire to build the Homeland based on the shared effort of all social classes, was a source of strength for successive generations that did not succumb to the storms of history and carried in their hearts, minds, and customs the freedom of the Republic until the day of its rebirth.”
It is no coincidence that at the dawn of Poland’s regaining independence, on May 3, 1916, on the 125th anniversary of the adoption of the Government Act, a massive demonstration passed through the streets of Warsaw, adorned with white-and-red colors, just like the capital itself. After independence was regained, the Legislative Sejm on August 1, 1919 adopted a law stating: “The colors of the Republic of Poland shall be white and red, in horizontal, parallel stripes, of which the upper is white and the lower is red.” In the Second Polish Republic, our national colors were treated with the highest reverence, and it is difficult to imagine anyone daring to profane them. The anniversary of the May 3 Constitution, from 1919 onward, was one of the most important state holidays. Everything changed after the aggression of Germany and the Soviet Union against Poland in September 1939.
Forbidden Colors, Forbidden Holidays
Immediately after the Germans entered Warsaw in September 1939, the use of patriotic symbols, national colors, and the celebration of national holidays were banned. It is worth noting how much this differed from the occupation in other countries. In Paris, on July 14, Bastille Day, the French paraded along the Champs-Élysées with tricolor cockades, whereas in occupied Poland, similar manifestations could result in imprisonment, a concentration camp, or even death. Despite German bans, the Polish Underground State, understanding how crucial morale was, organized spectacular patriotic actions on national anniversaries. Thus, on May 3, 1940, white-and-red flowers appeared at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and some legally operating schools were closed, which provoked German fury and led to the arrest of many teachers. A year later, members of the Small Sabotage Organization hung white-and-red flags across Warsaw – on walls, telegraph wires, and tram lines. Such actions were repeated regularly. On November 11, 1941, a beautiful white-and-red flag fluttered in the hand of Jan Kiliński on the monument that then stood in Krasiński Square. On the occasion of May 3 in 1942, the underground “Biuletyn Informacyjny” emphasized that […] “the holiday of May 3 is a symbol of the immortal, ever-living regenerative forces of the Polish Nation, its centuries-old striving to rise, even in the most difficult conditions, toward freedom, strength, and victory.”
How significant this support was for Poles is shown by the events of May 3, 1943. On that day, the Directorate of Civil Resistance broadcast a special anniversary message from a previously inactive loudspeaker in Wilson Square. An eyewitness, Władysław Bartoszewski, wrote in the underground press: “<
The Flag of All United Nations
How important our national colors were is shown by a story from the first days of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, during the so-called battle of Muranowski Square. At that time, two flags hung side by side: Polish and Jewish. This provoked furious anger among the Germans. The commander of the German forces fighting the insurgents, Jürgen Stroop, wrote in his report: “The main group of Jews mixed with Polish bandits withdrew to the so-called Muranowski Square already on the first or second day of fighting. […] On the roof of a concrete building they raised two flags, the Jewish and the Polish, as a signal to fight against us. These two flags were captured on the second day of the operation during a raid by a special combat unit.”
Another symbol of Polish participation in World War II became the raising of the Polish flag atop the monastery of Monte Cassino, captured by our soldiers. On May 18, 1944, a patrol of the 12th Podolian Uhlan Regiment under Second Lieutenant Kazimierz Gurbiel entered the ruins of the abbey. Above what seemed an unconquerable monastery, the white-and-red flag began to flutter. Every time I look at that photograph, I get chills. This place was captured by General Anders’s soldiers, who just months earlier had been imprisoned in Soviet labor camps. Soldiers to whom their commander said before the assault: “Let the lion dwell in your hearts.” One American war correspondent wrote: “We all stood in silence, saluting the Polish flag, which at that moment became the flag of all the united nations.”
Erased from Memory
After the end of World War II and the communist takeover in Poland, Monte Cassino was removed from history textbooks for years or described falsely. Lies were also told about the Warsaw Uprising, one of whose symbols was the white-and-red flag flying from August 1, 1944 over the famous Prudential building at what was then Napoleon Square, now aptly named Warsaw Uprising Square. In 1951, the anniversary of the May 3 Constitution was officially abolished. Caretakers were instructed to ensure that flags hung on May 1 for Labor Day were not still displayed two days later. The communists did not have the courage to change the Polish flag itself. They only managed to strip the eagle of its crown. It is said they even wanted to remove the eagle entirely, but Joseph Stalin himself decided it should remain.
For me personally, the enduring symbol of communist dictatorship in Poland will always be the photograph of eighteen-year-old Zbyszek Godlewski, commemorated in the song “Janek Wiśniewski Fell.” He was killed by communists on December 17, 1970 in Gdynia, carried on a door by workers, his blood-soaked body covered with a white-and-red banner. The day before his death, he wrote to his parents: “Dear Parents, I was in Gdańsk today. I saw everything. Do not worry… Zbyszek.” He was worried about Poland.
