When and why is the forgotten past recovered? The Battle of Warsaw,1920 and the role of local actors in the production of memory

The Battle of Warsaw: the background to the study

The Battle of Warsaw was fought from 13 August to 26 August 1920. It was the decisive encounter of the Polish-Soviet War (1919–1920), which was initially fought to establish Poland’s frontiers in the east following the collapse of the Russian and Austro-Hungarian empires in the aftermath of the World War I. After early successes during the Kyiv offensive in April 1920, the Polish army was forced to retreat, unable to stop the advancing Red Army. Suddenly at stake was not just the eastern frontier but the very sovereignty of Poland, which had only regained its independence 2 years earlier after over a century of partitions by the Austria-Hungary, German and Russian Empires. It was anticipated that were Warsaw to fall, Poland would become a Soviet satellite as the Red Army marched on to Germany to export revolution across Europe. Poland was advised by a 400-strong group of French officers and backed by the Hungarian government that tried to help with military supplies. In July 1920, the State Defence Council issued an appeal for volunteers and additional compulsory conscription. The Polish Church issued a pastoral letter in which it called for the defence of both Poland and its Roman Catholic faith against Bolshevism. The Red Army reached the Vistula in early August 1920 but unexpectedly met with fierce resistance near Warsaw in the area of Modlin, Radzymin and Wołomin. A counterattack commanded by commander-in-chief Józef Piłsudski followed, and the Soviets were forced to retreat; the armistice was signed in October 1920. Polish casualties and losses during the Battle of Warsaw were estimated at 4500 dead, 22,000 wounded and 10,000 missing (Odziemkowski, 2004: 444). In the newly created Second Polish Republic (1918–1939), the Battle of Warsaw was assigned a central position in its national mythology. And yet, two decades later, the 1920 victory had become an unmentionable event, and 70 years later, by the time of the fall of communism, the Battle had been totally forgotten.

In his study of the malleability of social memory, Jeffrey Olick (1999) argues for the need to consider ‘the accumulated succession of commemorations’ (p. 383) in investigations into how the past is culturally constructed. He points out that ‘[c]ommemorative images of the past not only reflect the commemorated event and the contemporary circumstances, but are path-dependent products of earlier commemorations as well’ (Olick, 1999: 381). Essentially, in the process of preserving memories ‘[n]ew solutions depend on older ones, providing terms, issues, styles, and expectations as well as points of departure. Older images of the past – like the past itself – are both resources and constraints for the present’ (Olick, 2003: 263–264). What Olick calls the memory of commemoration is clearly one of the central factors that has impacted the nature of the commemorative strategies undertaken in post-communist Poland with regard to the Battle of Warsaw. Many of the commemorative themes established immediately after the 1920 victory have been modified over time; others have remained unchanged and became the defining features of subsequent commemorations. Equally, the rupture in the continuity of commemorative tradition opened up opportunities for less constrained work of remembrance. Exploring the different developments in the commemorative history of the Battle of Warsaw helps to account for the way in which post-communist national and local authorities dealt with the founding moment of the pre-war Second Polish Republic.

The ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ and competing national self-understandings in the Second Republic

In the newly created Second Polish Republic the memory of the Battle was used to articulate diverse identity projects promoted by the main political forces of the time. The country emerged from the World War I bitterly divided in its support for the two most prominent leaders involved in the fight for independence: Roman Dmowski and Józef Piłsudski. Both leaders had a distinct vision not only of how to achieve independence but also of how to ensure the long-term sovereignty and prosperity of Poland. The Battle of Warsaw presented both camps with an opportunity to construct a particular version of the national past that could play an important role in their political legitimisation and that could be used to express competing national self-understandings. From the outset, therefore, the reading of the Battle of Warsaw was multifaceted. Rogers Brubaker and Margit Feischmidt (2002) in their study of the construction of social memory show the extent to which the availability of material that is suited for mythmaking (e.g. ‘heroic military exploits’, ‘tragic martyrdoms’, and ‘larger-than-life figures’) impacts on commemorative opportunities (p. 737). Using the 150th anniversary of the 1848 revolution in Hungary, Romania and Slovakia as their case studies, they demonstrate how scarcity of ‘the stuff of which myths are easily made’ (Brubaker and Feischmidt, 2002: 737) constrains the re-working of the past and its effective use for the needs and purposes of the present. In the case of the Battle of Warsaw, the Polish mythmakers had particularly rich historical material to work with. It included visionary commanders-in-chief, heroic teenage volunteers, inspirational priests and ancient enemies. What Brubaker and Feischmidt (2002) call the ‘raw materials’ (p. 735) was there in abundance to provide for diverse commemorative opportunities.

The 1920 victory became the main component in the legend about the commander-in-chief, Marshal Józef Piłsudski, which portrayed him as a heroic and talented military leader and legitimised his political supporters as protectors of Poland’s independence. In 1923, on 15 August, the third anniversary of the victory, Polish Soldiers’ Day was created to honour ‘the glory of Polish arms’ and to enshrine ‘the memory of the fallen in the centuries-old struggle for the [territorial] integrity and independence of Poland against the enemy’ (Honor, 1993: 23). At the same time, the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Assumption on 15 August. The multileveled symbolism of 15 August therefore rendered the day a particular framing of memory of the national past (Orla-Bukowska, 2006: 195). The Polish nationalist right headed by Dmowski and the Polish Catholic Church mythologised the war with commemorative narratives shaped by symbolic constructs of defeated ‘hordes of Bolsheviks’ and crushed ‘troops of Antichrist’. The battle operated as a symbol of Poland’s historical role as a defender of Western (Christian) Civilization against the barbaric ‘other’. Sejm, the Polish lower chamber, pledged in 1921 to build a sanctuary dedicated to divine providence in gratitude for the victory. The role the Catholic clergy played in the battle was emphasised and the young chaplain Ignacy Skorupka’s death became a powerful symbol of patriotic sacrifice (Bartnicki, 2007: 205–218). Skorupka accompanied teenage volunteers on a battlefield in Ossów near Wołomin. According to one version, he was killed by a stray bullet when administering the last rites; another suggests that he was killed when leading soldiers to attack (Internetowy Polski Słownik Biograficzny (IPSB), n.d.). The chaplain’s sacrifice emerged as the main component of the ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ narrative which portrayed the victory as a divine intervention and stressed the unique and historic relationship between The Mother of God Queen of Poland and the Polish people. The myth of divine intervention was used by Piłsudski’s political opponents to undermine his legend as a protector of Polish independence and to challenge his supporters’ place in national collective memory. The prospects of the ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ narrative to secure a permanent place in the national commemorative tradition were strong since a majority of Poles self-identified through Catholic symbols and rituals, and attachment to Christian values was one of the most stable and persistent characteristics of Polish identity.

Lyn Spillman (1998), one of the key contributors to the debate on the malleability and persistence of images of the past, argued convincingly that one of the key reasons that some collective memories persist and others do not is ‘their meaning in oppositional politics’ (p. 469). She demonstrated, by comparing the American and the Australian centennial and bicentennial commemorations of their founding moments, that ‘the more semiotic flexibility they [past events] offer, the more robust those events will be in collective memories’ (p. 469). By the time of the bicentennial anniversary, the Australian founding moment was no longer attributed a strong significance, while its American counterpart ‘remained a robust element of national collective memory because it offered multiple interpretative possibilities in a variety of contexts’ (p. 469). The Battle of Warsaw, evidently, was likewise open to multiple readings and Dmowski’s and Piłsudski’s supporters were able to associate the victory with different sets of values and ideological intentions. However, before memories of the 1920 victory – that clearly had great potential for oppositional politics – could take root and become fully institutionalised, Poland lost its independence again and commemoration of the Battle of Warsaw was strictly forbidden. By the end of World War II not only had Poland’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, unveiled in Warsaw in 1925, been destroyed by the Germans but less prominent sites of memory dedicated to the heroes of the 1920 victory had met a similar fate. The trajectory of commemorative tradition was broken.

The Polish People’s Republic and state-sponsored forgetting

The new authorities of the Polish People’s Republic – that were established in the aftermath of the Red Army victory over the Nazi Germany – rebuilt the Tomb to the Unknown Soldier, but the plaques commemorating the Polish-Soviet War were sent to a storage-room in Warsaw’s military museum. The Tomb now became the chief symbol of the fight against fascism and Nazi Germany (Kubik, 1994: 177). The communist authorities had no use for Polish Soldiers’ Day either. Polish Army Day was now commemorated on 12 October, the anniversary of the 1943 Battle of Lenino fought against Nazi Germany and recalling the first major engagement of Polish soldiers fighting alongside the Red Army. This change in the nationally celebrated holidays was indicative of a profound shift in how Polish military struggles were to be viewed and used in national mythmaking. The 1920 victory on the Vistula and the soldiers’ heroic sacrifice became taboo (Kubik, 1994: 177). Likewise, the communist authorities set out to eliminate or restrict access to any sites of memory connected to the ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ narrative. In Ossow, the field where chaplain Skorupka died became an army firing ground, a bridge allowing access to the Chapel dedicated to The Mother of God Victorious was dismantled and the nearby military cemetery was left to decay (Samorządowa Instytucja Kultury, n.d.). In Warsaw’s Our Lady Victorious Church, the famous triptych depicting the victory was boarded up (Królikowski, 1991: 70). This imposed forgetting also included history education. A 1994 public survey examining the dissemination of historical knowledge in communist Poland shows that 34% of respondents were of the opinion that there was no information whatsoever about the Polish–Soviet War in the Polish People’s Republic, 41% felt that the information was untrue, and 21% was unable to say (Centrum Badania Opinii Społecznej (CBOS), 1994: 5). The only other event – according to the survey – that was even more closely guarded by censorship was the Katyń massacre (54% of respondents felt that there was no information about the massacre and 35% that the information was falsified) (CBOS, 1994: 5).

The commemorative trajectory of the Battle of Warsaw that has shaped the process of recovery of the memory of the Battle of Warsaw includes not only the production of memory in the Second Polish Republic but also the forced erasure in the Polish People’s Republic. By the time communism collapsed, the historical significances of the Battle of Warsaw was largely unknown. In 2003, the Institute for Political Studies at the Polish Academy of Science conducted research into contemporary Polish society’s attitudes towards the past, mapping Poles’ responses to questions about the historical events that most stirred their pride. The Battle of Warsaw occupied 16th place, receiving 3.3% of the ‘vote’ (Kwiatkowski, 2008: 269). There is strong evidence that memory of past events that had been censored by the communist authorities was often preserved by biographical memory and transmitted to subsequent generations by family networks (Szacka, 2010: 131–132). But the Battle of Warsaw occurred before the cataclysm of World War II. The traumatic memories of the Nazi and Soviet occupations successfully displaced memories of the Polish–Soviet War that Polish society might have otherwise clandestinely held onto. Equally, the short-lived Second Republic had not had enough time to effectively institutionalise the commemorative tradition of the 1920 victory. The task of integrating the memory of the Battle of Warsaw into the national collective memory occurred at the time when many Poles – especially those who did not personally experience the ‘Red Army’s march’ on Warsaw – were still grappling with traumatic memories of the World War I. In consequence, after the fall of communism, the recovery of the commemorative traditions of the 1920 victory has been more convoluted than might otherwise have been expected. After all, the Battle of Warsaw is perfectly suited to be the core myth of the newly independent Poland considering its meaning-making capacity, its usefulness for oppositional politics and its rich historical material which is required for effective mythmaking.

‘The eighteenth decisive battle of the world’ and state-sponsored commemoration

In post-communist Poland, the restoration of pre-war traditions and the process of reclaiming a national heritage lost under communism began with the revision of nationally celebrated holidays. In 1992, Polish Army Day was ‘returned’ to its pre-war date of 15 August. Clearly, 12 October was no longer appropriate as it recalled the questionable brotherhood-in-arms with the Soviets and undermined other Polish military heritage related to the struggle against Soviet oppression. In 1995, on the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Warsaw, the Parliament voted in a resolution stating that those who sacrificed their lives in 1920 ‘will for ever stay in the memory of the Polish nation’ (Monitor Polski, 1995). The state ceremony commemorating the Battle is now organised as part of Polish Army Day in Marshal Piłsudski Square at the foot of the Tomb to the Unknown Soldier; now with plaques too honouring those who fell in the Polish–Soviet War. The presidential speeches delivered annually at the ceremony have managed quite successfully to revitalise the Battle of Warsaw mythology (see, for example, Presidential Speeches, n.d.). The pre-war commemorative narratives that were produced by the two competing camps led by Piłsudski and Dmowski have now been amalgamated into one powerful metanarrative of sacrifice for the national and universal good. Stories of Piłsudski’s visionary leadership, soldiers’ bravery, and the nation’s heroism most potently symbolised by chaplain Skorupka’s death, have been used to show Poland’s unique role as a defender of Christian European civilisation and the country’s long history of fighting for ‘our freedom and yours’ (see, for example, President Kaczyński, 2007). A particular emphasis has been placed on Poland’s contribution to the struggle against communist totalitarianism that started in 1920 and continued until the final victory in 1989 (see, for example, Director of the Polish History Museum Kostro, 2010: 1). Love of freedom has been identified as one of the most persistent national traits that has been successfully passed on to successive generations. In presidential speeches and also in historical exhibitions, commemorative publications and state-sponsored proclamations the Battle of Warsaw has been presented as ‘one of the most important battles in world history’ and as one that ‘decided not only the future of Poland but also the entire continent’ (President Kaczyński, 2009). Lord Edgar D’Abernon, a British diplomat who termed the Battle of Warsaw ‘the eighteenth decisive battle of the world’, has been the most frequently quoted witness of the events of summer 1920.

By the time of the 90th anniversary of the Battle of Warsaw, Poland was in a position to organise major celebrations. The programme of commemorative events included outdoor exhibitions with huge screens onto which images of Piłsudski and Lenin were projected, conferences, documentary film screenings and history competitions (Spacerownik Historyczny, 2010). The main exhibition prepared by the Polish History Museum was unsurprisingly entitled: The eighteenth… the battle that changed world history (Sosnowski, 2010: 3). But this framing of the Battle of Warsaw as one of the most significant events in the national and European past stands somehow in contrast to the lack of major state-sponsored remembrance activities. Ultimately, the main focus of the annual celebrations on 15 August in Warsaw is the Polish Army as a whole not just the Piłsudski soldiers of 1920. The huge state-sponsored effort undertaken for the 90th anniversary has not resulted in long-lasting commemorative activity. So far – that is by 2017 – no museum dedicated to the 1920 victory has been opened and no national monument has been erected. Equally, no research institute promoting knowledge about the Polish–Soviet War has been established. A similar picture emerges from investigations into the process of the post-1989 renaming of public space. Although Marshal Józef Piłsudski, the symbol of Poland’s independence struggle, was generally popular as a replacement for names commemorating communist achievements, there is a notable absence of names referring directly to the Battle of Warsaw (Hałas, 2004: 132).

This half-hearted commitment to the recovery of the memory of 1920 reflects the wider context of memory production in post-communist Poland. Jay Winter (2000) in his study on constructions of the past calls for the recognition of the significance of personal memories of war and points out that it is in the interest of groups in power to recall traumatic events experienced recently by society, as they arouse peoples’ emotions quicker and in a more direct way. Similarly, Michael Schudson (1989) argues that collective memory production is not only about the past we want to choose to remember but also the one we cannot escape. Such a past imposes limits on the scope we have to choose what to remember and even on our freedom with regard to remembering since it ‘becomes part of us; and shapes us, it influences our consciousness, whether we like it or not’ (Schudson, 1989: 110). In Poland, after the fall of communism, the commemorative effort undertaken by the state institutions of memory has mainly focused on the more immediate past, on stories of victimhood and martyrdom from the World War II that had previously been suppressed. These memories have a strong resonance with Poles, and they have been effective in mobilising Poles’ support for the rejection of communist-era values. Thus, they are more useful for expressing the ideological intentions of the new state. At the same time, however, a widespread interest in memory of the Battle of Warsaw has developed in the municipalities on whose territories the battle took place. And it is local authorities who have been at the forefront of remembrance work aimed at a national not just regional audience.

Remembering the 1920 victory in the locality

In post-communist Eastern Europe the shifts in socially organised remembering are marked by characteristics specific to the region. Democratisation processes, the economic transition from a socialist central planning system to a market economy and decentralisation have all impacted how collective remembrance has been reconfigured after the collapse of communism. The increased importance of municipalities in memory production in transitional East European states has been noted by several scholars (e.g. Czaplicka et al., 2009; Thum, 2005). In Poland, one of the most important factors to have shaped the development of memory production at the local level were the territorial and administrative reforms of 1990s that have created self-governing municipalities (headed by mayors) and resulted in a degree of emancipation of the Polish periphery. By the 2000s ‘Poland ha[d] become one of the most decentralized countries in Europe’ (Levitas, 2014: 2). As local authorities have become political actors in their own right, they need to acquire their own legitimacy and therefore heavily engage in local identity politics and memory work. The memory work has concentrated on reorganising the commemorative landscape and modifying local imagery to enhance the cultural standing and historical status of municipalities. It is intended to boost the solidarity and self-esteem of inhabitants and to encourage a sense of collective responsibility for the future of their locality. The municipalities’ socio-political uses of their historical past are influenced and constrained by several factors of which the nature of the past they are making use of and the memory of commemoration are particularly significant. In the case of Wołomin and Radzymin, the municipalities on whose territories the battle took place, the past that is most suited for the construction of local identity – the Battle of Warsaw – had been a constitutive part of the nation-building process before the World War II and thus has national not just local significance. The memory of commemoration of the Battle of Warsaw includes decades of imposed forgetting but it also includes unofficial acts of remembrance undertaken by local civil society. It is these bottom-up commemorative initiatives that have become the foundation of municipality sponsored memory work.

The re-discovery of local heritage related to the Battle of Warsaw in Radzymin and Ossów near Wołomin had been initiated by local priests, private citizens and voluntary organisations before the fall of communism. The first attempts to restore the commemorative tradition of the 1920 victory were carried out in the early 1980s when censorship was temporarily relaxed under pressure from the anti-communist Solidarity movement (Odziemkowski, 1993: 17). In 1981, in Ossów, a local resident funded a wooden cross marking the place where chaplain Skorupka fell (Samorządowa Instytucja Kultury, n.d.). In the same year, a damaged obelisk, situated near a cottage where Skorupka’s body had been laid after the battle and the Mother of God Victorious chapel were renovated. In Radzymin the military cemetery – that before the war had been the focus for state-sponsored commemorative activities – was also renovated (Kolatorski and Wnuk, 1995: 103). In 1988, just before the fall of communism, the Society of Radzymin Friends was founded and became a chief promoter of the previously censored memories through educational and publishing activities (Królikowski, 1991: 62). Owing to its efforts names of streets connected to the 1920 victory were restored and a local school was named after a commanding officer mortally wounded near Radzymin (Kolatorski and Wnuk, 1995: 97). But the Society’s most spectacular initiative was the construction of the ‘Path of Polish Nation’s Golgotha’, an avenue connecting the military cemetery with the town’s church. Along the avenue stone replicas of Poland’s highest military decoration – the cross of Virtuti Militari – have been erected in honour of the military commanders and regiments that fought in Radzymin in 1920 (Wielkie Dni Radzymina, 2006: 53). As the chairman of the Society explained, the site was created because: ‘never in Polish history in such a short time did our nation experience so many tragic moments [as in Radzymin]’ (Wnuk, 2010: 5).

The memory work undertaken by civil society in the localities where the Battle of Warsaw took place has been officially noted and the inhabitants of Radzymin have earned the reputation of protectors of ‘scared memory’. Bishop Józef Zawitkowski (1995) in his sermon during the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Warsaw organised in Radzymin and attended by President Lech Wałęsa referred specifically to the ‘silent heroes of the town’ who ‘preserved the pure secret about the Miracle on the Vistula’ and who themselves deserve ‘a monument and the Cross of Valour’ (a military decoration given to soldiers of the Polish-Soviet War (pp. 18–19)). The local civil society’s strong commitment to commemorations of the Battle of Warsaw has been inspired by the physical landscapes of Radzymin and Wołomin, where the 1920 fighting took place. Claudia Koonz (1994) in her study of the relationship between geographical sites and collective memory argued that ‘[p]ast events seem fixed in the landscape where they occurred’ (p. 258) and, following Maurice Halbwachs, she drew our attention to the capacity of landmarks to ‘exude a sense of timelessness’ (p. 260). It is precisely this persistence of the physical surroundings where the Battle of Warsaw occurred that has shaped local attitudes to the nationally forgotten victory and inspired local family memory. And it is family memory that is of particular interest to us here. Joanna Kurczewska (2006) in her study of the role of family memory in times of system transformation argues that in post-communist Poland family memory is shaped by a ‘weak nation’ – that is typical for ‘times of pluralistic democracies’ (p. 74) – and by a local community. The local community can be either ‘weak’ or ‘strong’ too. The weak community’s memory has a very short time-span and ‘fails to extend back beyond socialist Poland and the occupation during World War II’ (Kurczewska, 2006: 74). By contrast, the strong local community is rooted in a distant past and its historical horizon stretches back well beyond the grandparents’ generation. In the latter case, family memory simultaneously ‘orients itself toward the locality, the nation and the family’ (Kurczewska, 2006: 75). Heroic and military memories, while organically tied to local history, have tendency in particular to anchor themselves in the national past and the nation’s values and traditions. Clearly, Radzymin is a case of the latter. Local authorities in their commemorative work have drawn heavily on the imagery of ‘sacred space’ and the symbolic value of family memory. They have adopted the role of the official heir and custodian of the pre-war commemorative tradition and have modelled many of their activities on those of the 1920s and 1930s (see, for example, Krakowska, 2010: 20–26; Wielkie Dni Radzymina, 2002). Annual celebrations at burial sites and the restoration of monuments honouring the fallen soldiers that had been destroyed during communism are the most obvious continuations. Unsurprisingly, Skorupka’s heroic death on the battlefield has returned as the main focus of memorial activity. In 2010, as a result of local efforts, he was posthumously awarded Poland’s highest decoration, the Order of the White Eagle, by the Polish president at a ceremony in Ossów (Rocznik Wołomiński, 2011: 419).

Local authorities have also tried to foster Ossów’s and Radzymin’s reputation as centres for national commemorative activity, which considering the size of municipalities (Wołomin has 51,000 and Radzymin 25,000 inhabitants) is a bold undertaking. In 1999, Pope John Paul II visited Radzymin following two invitations from local authorities. Polish presidents and high-ranking state officials have been regularly invited to attend celebrations at military cemeteries. Furthermore, representatives of the Hungarian state have participated in events memorialising Hungarian help in 1920 (Rocznik Wołomiński, 2012: 422). Successive mayors of Wołomin have presented themselves and their local community as the leading force in the recovery of the memory of the 1920 victory. In 2010, Mayor Mikulski explained, ‘Today, we the inhabitants of Wołomin wish Ossów to open the gates to spread knowledge of the history of the Battle of Warsaw’ (Mikulski, 2010: 6). In 2015, Mayor Radwan in her letter appealing to the Polish president to support the creation of the Battle of Warsaw museum pointed out: ‘I appeal to you, Mr President because of the feeling of being responsible for a dignified memorialization of Polish heroes, which should be of concern to all representatives of our state [not just Wołomin’s]’ (Radwan, 2015: 2).

At the same time, while emphasising the patriotic responsibility for honouring the soldiers’ sacrifices and the duties of the custodian of ‘sacred space’, economic imperatives have been high on the local authorities’ agenda. And that is not surprising. The multiplicity of uses of heritage has been widely acknowledged in literature (see Graham et al., 2000). As argued by Ashworth and Graham (2005),

… [heritage] is an economic resource, one exploited everywhere as a primary component of strategies to promote tourism, economic development and rural and urban regeneration. But heritage is also a knowledge, a culture product and a political resource and thus possesses a crucial socio-political function. (p. 7)

As the director of a municipal institution responsible for the promotion of the 1920 heritage explained,

Providence preordained that Wołomin be responsible for that [disseminating knowledge about the Battle] and that Wołomin can give a lot to Poland. But if this project comes to fruition it will also give a lot to Wołomin. […] Wołomin should go in this direction, because this is a goldmine. (XIV Sesja, 2015: 43)

Battlefield tourism and local entrepreneurship

John Urry (1990: 112–120) in his exploration of the heritage industry draws our attention to the critical role played by local agents and local authorities in the industry’s expansion. The promotion and development of heritage tourism is part of many local strategies for economic growth and job creation. In Wołomin and Radzymin, the development of heritage products around sites related to the Battle of Warsaw has been seen as a priority. Local authorities over the last two decades have established an annual programme of commemorative events that includes a marathon, an angling competition, a cycling rally and the national cavalry championship (see for example Bitwa Warszawska, n.d.). The events attract competitors from the region and nationwide. The main attraction of the day is the re-enactment of the Battle of Warsaw, which draws huge numbers of visitors from Warsaw. The battle is followed by music concerts and a firework display while entrepreneurs from the region make the most of business opportunities. During the 90th-anniversary re-enactment young people could be seen handing out flyers advertising, for example, a military auction site, a college of further education and financial services (Author’s visit to Ossów, 14 August 2010). A tourist brochure promoting ‘original ideas for the weekend’ published by the Mazowsze Regional Tourist Board was also distributed and quite a few businesses had exhibition stands. The annual celebrations are now evidently part of a tourism product that is to aid regional development. The association of the towns with the ‘Miracle on the Vistula’ enhances the places’ cultural and economic attractiveness therefore local authorities have been pursuing their heritage-led growth strategy with unwavering determination. Experts from national history museums, archives and libraries have been brought in to help with the development of commemorative projects (XI Sesja, 2015: 17–18). Experts from regional tourist boards have been helping to make the towns more attractive to visitors (see, for example, Grabowski, 2015). The success of heritage products to a large extent hinges on close collaboration between local authorities and other regional and national bodies concerned with the preservation and promotion of heritage sites (Urry, 1990: 113).

The ‘Programme for the Development of the Tourist Product’, devised in 2008 by the Wołomin local authority, has been modified several times since then mainly due to problems with fundraising schemes. But essentially the tourism product involves a culture park with a multimedia museum dedicated to the Polish–Soviet War, a conference centre, an infrastructure for active tourism (sport activities) and most recently a hub for historical re-enactment groups (Strategia, 2015). It is expected that by offering multiple types of heritage attractions (educational, military, religious, protected landscape) the product will achieve national rather than simply regional significance. The emphasis on the leisure aspect of the park reflects the number and the type of visitors the park wants to attract. Richard Prentice in his study on heritage as a tourism product shows that gaining historical knowledge is not the chief reason why tourists visit historical sites (Prentice, 2005: 250-54). Pursuit of leisure is the main motivation for the majority of visitors. As the incomes of Poles and the amount of time they can dedicate to leisure increase, so too will the number of heritage product customers. In Radzymin and Wołomin, the annual commemorations already attract new audiences because of the diverse programme of commemorative events and because of the hugely popular re-enactment of the Battle of Warsaw. In fact, it is largely due to the development of heritage attractions that the topic gets news coverage and generates media interest (Samorządowa Instytucja Kultury, n.d.).

This amalgamation of war commemorations, ‘heritage tourism’ and business in the localities where the Battle took place has its precedence in mature democracies. Examples of the ‘commercialisation of memory’ of the World Wars I and II are widespread across western countries, and this fact has not necessarily been always deplored. Bruce C. Scates (2009) who researched battlefield tourism in Gallipoli argues that even though ‘battlefield tours are a profitable subset of the whole heritage industry’ (p. 72), we should not dismiss the capacity of such engagements with the past for generating authentic emotions and deeper meanings. Sam Edwards (2009) who investigated battlefield tourism in Normandy calls for more complex investigations of the dynamic of commercial commemoration and suggests that in ‘the social production of memory the “sacred” and the “profane,” pilgrimage and tourism, the “transcendent” and the “trivial” […] are not simply opposites and that they are not necessarily antithetical’ (p. 89). In Wołomin and Radzymin, as we have seen, the interactions between commemoration and commerce are particularly multi-layered. The local authorities feel responsible for the memorialization of the Battle of Warsaw (and this feeling is rooted in the memory work undertaken by civil society when such activity was officially forbidden), but they are also motivated by the economic benefit for their towns. Ossów and Radzymin have become tourist attractions but as a result general awareness of the historical significance of the 1920 victory has increased and the forgotten Polish–Soviet War burial places returned to a map of national sites of memory.