Another anniversary of the Baptism of Poland is behind us—an event that marked Prince Mieszko I’s religious and political decision to enter the sphere of Latin, Catholic culture. At the same time, it was his personal life choice to embrace a new faith and abandon paganism, as Tomasz Łysiak recalls in his column for niezalezna.pl.
What constitutes modern paganism and what constitutes genuine faith can, of course, be debated. But one fact remains indisputable: Poland aligned itself with the West, and its geopolitical position on the eastern frontier of that West has proven to be both a source of strength and of weakness.
Prof. Aleksander Brückner wrote that entry into the Latin world became such a crucial element of identity for the Piast state that it gave rise to the name “Lachs” used to describe Poles (this is, of course, one of the theories regarding the etymology of the word “Lachowie”). When, in December 1240, Mongol forces reached the walls of Kyiv and began their siege of the city, an entire Polish (Lach) district was located within it—described by Leszek Podhorecki in The History of Kyiv. In that district stood a church and a Dominican monastery. The siege and fall of Kyiv are also linked to the legend of St. Hyacinth, who is said to have carried a statue of the Virgin Mary and liturgical chalices out of a burning church. A few months later, at the Battle of Legnica, Silesian Duke Henry II the Pious confronted the Tatars led by Orda; he was killed as a martyr, beheaded in the Mongol camp after the battle. This took place on April 9, 1241.
The duke commanded a Christian army of the West, resisting a wild and barbaric force advancing from the East.
Thus our history unfolded—caught between powers: the Germanic on one side and the Muscovite on the other.
What matters, however, is that from the moment of the Baptism, in civilizational, cultural, and religious terms, we became part of the Western sphere. Poland stood with the West and was part of the West. Fortunately, it remains so today.
Yet amid the thicket of political decisions and everyday choices—especially those concerning Poland’s political and civilizational future—we must continually ask ourselves: what matters most to us as Poles? Where will this or that path, this or that political course, lead us? Do internal disputes and conflicts pose a threat to our future as a state and a nation, in the long term—in the perspective of centuries, not just a few years?
All of this is important. All of this must be taken into account when observing disputes within the conservative segment of our political scene—the part that understands the weight of Poland’s civilizational trajectory. It is better to remember the past and strive to understand it, so as not to become mired in the mud of everyday struggles over who is wiser, better, or more virtuous.