The War of Ukrainian Independence, one year on

The world is not usually morally clear, particularly when discussing events with global impact that involve millions of people. There is also an unfortunate modern tendency to think in absolutes about subtle political and moral questions about which reasonable people can disagree. We often vote and argue as though our real goal is not to solve the problems that every society has, but rather, to fling our political opponents into the sun. 

And yet, there are some issues that really are that simple, and we need to remind ourselves of their simplicity despite attempts to complicate them. The War of Ukrainian Independence is one such example where we need to keep several facts clearly in mind. Russia has chosen to launch a war of imperial aggression and aggrandizement against its neighbor, with the aim of destroying that nation's political independence and identity. While doing so, it has committed crimes as serious as any seen in history. Commentators on Russian state TV have celebrated and encouraged waging war against civilians, women and children. If Russia is permitted to conquer Ukraine, these crimes will continue, they will just be comfortably out of our sight and we can pretend they aren't happening. If Russia is permitted to conquer Ukraine, it will be emboldened to try similar "special operations" in Moldova, Georgia, and the Baltic States, under the guise of "protecting Russians." The Ukrainian people have proven willing and able to fight against this aggression beyond anybody's expectation, but can only do so with continued Western support. To cut off this support because, well, we're bored, it's expensive, we have problems at home, and the war isn't ending fast enough for us, would be a betrayal not only of Ukraine, but of the values we in the West say we hold dear: national sovereignty and self-determination, freedoms of speech, religion, and association. That disputes between people, and between nations, should be resolved by diplomacy, politics, and law, not violence. Russia's boosters in the West don't want to talk about any of this, because they don't have a good answer for it.

But lets say that you think moral arguments are for weaklings, globalists, neocons, warmongers and whatnot. The "warmongers/supporters of forever wars" is particularly puzzling, as this war is occuring whether we like it or not. We did not choose this war. Russia did. But no matter: thinking just in terms of cynical realpolitik, the United States has been presented with a golden opportunity to seriously weaken one of its main geopolitical rivals, get Europe to start pulling its weight on security matters, and if China starts supplying Russia, perhaps even degrade the capabilities of its other main geopolitical rivals, all at the cost of about 1/8th of the defense budget and no American troops. In the long term, Russia has been damaged by having  We also get, as an ally, the largest and most experienced military in Europe (the Ukrainian one), and a very good sense of the capabilities, tactics, and limitations of the Russian army. If we stop supporting Ukraine, Russia doesn't stop there and go away. You can't feed the bear with the assumption he won't come back for more. Empires are always looking for more. 

I've seen on this blog's analytics in the past that I have had readers in Russia: whether those are bots or actual people I do not know. But if an actual person happens to read this, here's what I will say: your government is lying to you, and I think you know this. Your government tells you that the West is intent on destroying you, on taking you over, and this has been its goal for a long time. The truth is that on February 1st, 2022, most people in the West didn't really care about you, one way or the other. Even in Poland, the average person may have some historical resentments towards Russia, but didn't go around voicing them all the time. Even the craziest of Polish nationalists weren't running around saying "we need to retake Moscow!" Why do we not think about Russia, one way or the other? Because we're busy. We really have better things to do than think about how to wreck Russia. Quite frankly, your government doesn't need our help wrecking it. You may think that the West is weak and decadent, because our default condition is to want to be everybody's friend while watching Netflix. But that's what Imperial Japan assumed in 1941. It didn't go well for them. 

To my American readers, Ukraine is fighting something very much akin to our own War of 1812. And I think the Ukrainian cause is summed up perfectly in the rarely-sung fourth verse of our own national anthem:

O thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
Between their lov'd home and the war's desolation!
Blest with vict'ry and peace may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserv'd us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto - "In God is our trust,"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The Tragicomic history of King Władysław VII Niestety

 Władysław VII Niestety (Władysław the Unfortunate), also known as Władysław Nieznany (Władysław the Obscure) and Władysław Beznadziejny (Władysław the Hopeless) is perhaps the least-known and most justly-overlooked King of Poland (reigned 1677-1682). Of him, the poet Adam Mickiewicz wrote “we never did see such a hapless man/since Poland, Christendom, or the world began.” Described by the historian Norman Davies as “a blight on the already benighted 17^th century”, and by Jarosław Kaczyński as “almost as bad as Donald Tusk,” this controversial King’s reign was subject of recent revisionist re-examination lasting almost 15 minutes, which has changed his historical reputation from something akin to Ulysses S. Grant, to something more akin to James Buchanan.   

 

Pictured: the only known engraving of Władysław VII, in his coronation robes.

 

He was born Ladislaus Hansen Benson Yansen Vasa Bathory Potocki Sturm und Drang und Thurn und Taxis in the Swedish city of Gothenburg on February 29^th, 1625. His long name belied his origins, which were on a withered, humble, and somewhat beetle-infested cadet branch of the royal House of Vasa. After a typically misspent youth marked by an extraordinary inability to assemble furniture even when provided with pictorial instructions, he was called away to Poland by his distant cousin, King Jan II Kazimierz of Poland (with Jan Kazimierz frequently emphasizing the distance of their relation), as a favor to their aunt Bertha. Ladislaus was appointed Castellan of Białystok: Jan Kazimierz had wanted to appoint him Castellan of the Moon in order to get him as far away from Warsaw as possible, but it was pointed out to him that Poland could not yet into space, and so there was a small problem of jurisdiction. Władysław was a kind and indulgent Castellan, and known to entertain the locals through his periodic attempts to wrestle with the European bison found in nearby forests, and attempting to construct castles in the nearby swamps. 

 

From such unpromising beginnings, Władysław would appear to be an unlikely candidate for election as King of Poland. His was brought about largely because of the machinations of two key magnates, Janusz Potopopodobny of the Gozdawa coat of arms and Castellan of Guzik, and Marian Marcin Brzoskwinkowski of the Brzęczyszczykiewicz coat of arms and Prince of Fereteren Zabudowany.[1] Both of these magnates had attempted to promote Władysław as a spoiler candidate in the election of 1677, voting for him in the first round and thereby hoping to divide the Sejm sufficiently that no one candidate would win a majority, enabling either Potopopodobny or Brzoskwinkowski to win the election after it had been thrown to the House of Representatives. Unfortunately, this was also the plan of every other magnate present. In a spectacular miscalculation, this resulted in Władysław securing a substantial majority of those szlachta who were not voting for themselves. 

 

Pictured: Potopopodobny reacts to hearing news of Władysław VII's election

The reign of Władysław set the stage for future tragedy and disappointment. For instance, the Polish National Soccer Team was founded at this time. Owing to a possibly-misplaced comma, there is some controversy over whether “The Unfortunate” is the appropriate cognomen or not. The contemporary chronicler Maciej Oszustchowicz wrote of “Władysław Niestety, Król Polski” (Władysław the Unfortunate, King of Poland), but he may have meant to write “Władysław, Niestety, Krół Polski (Władysław, Unfortunately, King of Poland). This controversy was so hot, an argument began in favor of introducing definite and indefinite articles into the Polish language. This argument continues to this day, as anyone familiar with Poles will not be surprised to learn.

Aside from this contribution to historiography, Władysław VII both coined and promoted the use of the cognomen "Łokietek" (The Elbow-High) for King Władysław I Łokietek (r. 1320-1333), because he was afraid that otherwise people would apply that cognomen to him. When asked what cognomen he wanted, Władysław let it be known that he wanted to be remembered as Władysław VII Jagiełło. When it was pointed out to him that 1) he was not of the Jagellonian dynasty and 2) that this name was already taken, Władysław replied that that neither of these things had been an impediment for Tsars False Dimitry I and False Dimitry II.

Jan Matejko did a portrait of Władysław VII that was long thought lost, but a recent X-ray spectroscopic study conducted at the National Museum in Kraków has found that the canvas of the portrait was reused by the painter for his painting Hołd Pruski (The Prussian Homage). It is possible that Matejko found that this canvas was simply not large enough to realistically capture Władysław VII’s famous girth.

Curators at the National Museum in Kraków unroll the painting Hołd Pruski following X-ray analysis that found an incomplete portrait of Władysław VII that had been painted over.

Alas, Właysław would not get a planned literary portrait either: Henryk Sienkiewicz intended to write a fourth book of his trilogy focused on Władysław’s reign, tentatively titled either “Z Dupem i Jasiem” or “Cur vadis?”, but was dissuaded from doing so for reasons of good taste.

As with most kings of this period, Władysław had some of his legislation vetoed by the Sejm. Unlike most kings, Władysław managed to have his legislation vetoed by every member of the Sejm simultaneously, with several duels being fought over who would have the honor of casting the first veto. Some of Władysław’s proposals were needed, forward-looking, but derided, such as the elimination of the Liberam Veto, and the idea that the szlachta would have to actually pay their taxes occasionally. Other legislative proposals were downright bizarre, such as his proposal to limit Polish kings to serving two consecutive terms, and the adaptation of the Euro, though this former proposal would be put into limited execution in the 18^th century.

The Revocation Sejm attempted to depose Władysław in 1680. Władysław supported this move, stating all he wanted to do was retire and return to his native Sweden. On hearing this, Sweden immediately declared war. The short-lived Little Northern War resulted in the Treaty of Toruń (1681), the terms of which were remarkably generous to Poland given the circumstances: Władysław was forced to remain on the throne of Poland, but at the urging of the local businessmen of Toruń, Polish gingerbread was allowed tariff-free access to the Swedish market.

However, it must be noted that the legacy of Władysław was not entirely negative. He was a key patron of many artists, such as Wacław z Samotuł, Jan Kochanowski, Veit Stoss, and Marcin Kober. The fact that these artists had been dead for many years before his reign did not discourage his patronage. He also remodeled Wawel Castle, which was at this time falling into neglect as the royal capital had moved to Warsaw. While many needed repairs were completed, his idea to place a large neon sign on the side facing the river raised more than a few eyebrows. The other major public work begun at this time was the construction of what would eventually be known as Unity Centre, whose bold and spare construction would eventually inspire the design of the comic-book character Skeletor.

In sport, Władysław has cemented his legacy in the hearts of his countrymen by introducing ski jumping to Poland. In his celebrated “Skok Wawelski” (The Wawel Leap), the King had a jump ramp constructed on Wawel Hill in Kraków, and attempted, perhaps unwisely, to jump across the Vistula River. Then, as now, there was a pathway or road on the far embankment. As the King took off, a great cry was heard from the crowd that had assembled, “niech go szlak trafi!” (May he hit the road!) Miraculously, the King landed on the far bank, but was prevented from re-crossing the river by the assembled throngs. He was only able to attain the Wawel bank of the river by walking all the way to Tyniec, some 8 miles distant, and crossing there.

Finally, after a night of drinking, Władysław fell into the Vistula and drowned near Warsaw on May 3^rd, 1682, an event known as the “Zatop Szwedski” (the Swedish Sinking) or the “Cud pod Wisłą” (The Miracle under the Vistula). May 3^rd remains a national holiday in Poland today.

Władysław’s remains were returned to Kraków, and rather than being buried in Wawel Cathedral, were conveyed to the outskirts of town. The Cracovians then buried Władysław under a massive mound of earth erected above a crossroads, to ensure he was thoroughly covered and would not rise again. His successor, King Jan III Sobieski, gave him a heartfelt, touching eulogy, praising Władysław’s love of his people, his fundamental honesty, and his recipe for meatballs with lingonberry relish. He concluded his remarks by saying “let the memory of Władysław VII always be forgotten.”

Pictured: a 20th century reenactment of the burial of Władysław VII

The Kopiec Władysława, as the earthen mound that covered his remains was called, stood as a silent reminder of this king’s reign. It was said that the best views of Kraków were from the Kopiec Władysława, because from there, one did not have to see the Kopiec Władysława. The mound was demolished during the construction of the Nowa Huta steel works after World War II, which, it was unanimously agreed, greatly beautified the landscape.

 

The Nowa Huta steelworkds

I hope you have enjoyed this brief, dramatic, and utterly fictitious history of Władysław VII. I was thinking of writing a companion piece concerning the forgotten American president Alexander “The Rock” Johnson, but was finding his history to be too similar to that of Franklin Pierce or James Buchanan. Perhaps inspiration will strike….

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[1] The Brzęczyszczykiewicz coat of arms is described as “Gules parted quarterly with five argent zeds rampant.”