This is the true father of the fatherland, its defender, its lord and ruler — not a squanderer of another man’s property, but an honest steward of the public good.
With these words, Gallus Anonymus (Latin: Gallus Anonimus), an otherwise little-known chronicler and a pioneer in recording Polish history, described the first king of Poland, Bolesław the Brave (Chrobry).1
Poland was not born in 2007, when the Treaty of Lisbon was signed, nor in 2004, when it joined the European Union. It was not born in 1989, when democratic authorities officially replaced the centrally planned communist government, nor in 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles restored its independence after the First World War. The dates cited above refer only to minor episodes in Polish statehood, whose origins must be sought much deeper.
Every great state has had its founders. At the dawn of the United States we find the Founding Fathers, while in the case of European states these are most often saints and kings — Saint King Stephen I in Hungary, Clovis in France, Saint Wenceslaus in Bohemia, or Alfred the Great in England. Poland is no worse in this respect and likewise owes its existence to one key figure — Bolesław the Brave.
In 2025 falls the thousandth anniversary of this ruler’s coronation — an anniversary which, for many reasons, deserves proud and grand celebrations at the state level. Unfortunately, for several reasons, the millennium has been almost entirely ignored by the Polish authorities. On the one hand, awakening national pride among Poles does not align with the strategy of the political order that maintains power by keeping the nation in a state of permanent political conflict, merely rotating governments between political parties. Another reason is Poles’ difficulty in coming to terms with their own cultural and historical heritage, which to a large extent has been shaped by forces foreign to Poland, including communists, partitioning powers, and globalists.
Proof that key events in a nation’s past can be celebrated on a grand scale was provided by Stefan Cardinal Wyszyński, known as the Primate of the Millennium. Despite communist rule, he organized the Great Novena, morally preparing Poles for the 1966 anniversary of Poland’s baptism, awakening religious values, and striving to overcome national shortcomings. In the opinion of the renowned professor and scholar of monarchism, Jacek Bartyzel, Wyszyński “spiritually nourished his generation.”
Through this article, aimed at English-speaking readers, the author seeks to achieve two goals: 1/ to use the 1000th anniversary of the coronation of Poland’s first king as an element of Polish soft power, something that the Polish authorities themselves have failed to accomplish, and 2/ to show that the potential inherent in the Polish people is not a fleeting phenomenon, and that they were capable of great achievements long before dark clouds of catastrophe and tragedy began to shadow their identity.
Perhaps the text will also reach Poles scattered around the world, offering encouragement to their hearts. In the homeland, the legacy of Bolesław the Brave, the Piast dynasty, and many other historical figures has been reduced to the level of passing monuments on the streets, notes in school textbooks, and entries in crossword puzzles. Yet, the guardians of the great king’s heritage have been numerous local, municipal, cultural, and social initiatives, driven by forces moving against the mainstream — Catholics, traditionalists, monarchists, and nationalists. There are still people who believe that Bolesław the Brave can become a political myth capable of awakening Poles from their complexes and leading to a national renaissance.
Painful historical experiences
As is well known, history is written by the victors. Over the past 250 years, the course of events has unfolded in a way that has affected Poland in a particularly profound manner. Complexes, the martyrology of lost causes (the November Uprising, the January Uprising), and the cult of controversial heroes (Koś ciuszko, Pił sudski) all have their roots in an unending series of losses of sovereignty, wars, oppression, and extermination.
In the 18th century, the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth2 gradually lost its sovereignty to Russia, Austria, and Prussia. King Stanisław August Poniatowski, who sat on the throne from 1764 to 1795 with a proverbial “knife at his throat,” kept under the influence of Empress Catherine, sought to secure concessions for his subjects through diplomacy, persuasion, courtesy, and by flattering the Russian ruler. Although he achieved some successes in this regard, he was unable to prevent the partitions, and to this day he is commonly associated by Poles with betrayal.3
Exhausted and mentally defeated, Poniatowski abdicated in 1795, and the country’s territory was finally divided. This state of affairs persisted, with some exceptions, for approximately 123 years, until 1918. Before Poland returned to the map, its lands were home only to fragments of statehood, such as the Congress Kingdom, in a personal union with the Russian Empire, and the Duchy of Warsaw, in a personal union with the Kingdom of Saxony.
During World War I, esteemed Polish soldiers fought in the armies of the occupying powers, lured by promises of the restoration of their own statehood. Textbooks remain silent about the outstanding patriot, the would-be King of Poland, Charles Stephen of the Polish branch of the Habsburg family, who made his accession to the throne conditional on the cessation of Polish deaths for foreign causes. The independence regained in 1918 by the act of the Regency Council4 had, in the very next year, to confront an enemy in the Polish–Soviet War (1919–1921). There remained less than 20 years for the Second Polish Republic to consolidate itself, suspended between tradition and modernity, the past and the future of the nation. Meanwhile, over Europe loomed the specter of World War II (1939–1945), which affected Poland in a particularly severe way — over 5 million citizens perished, many cities were reduced to ruins, and material losses, calculated in today’s purchasing power, are estimated at more than 6 trillion złoty.5
Those Poles who did not die on the frontlines defending their homeland were systematically eliminated in Nazi concentration and labor camps, as well as in Soviet gulags. The aim was to deprive the nation of its aristocracy, intelligentsia, scholars, cultural figures, and the faithful; of the most talented industrialists, politicians, thinkers, and creators. Those who managed to survive had to seek refuge in the farthest corners of the globe, from Brazil to the United States, Canada, and even Australia.
Another tragedy for Poland was the communist rule from 1945 to 1989 — a period of repression, scarcity, surveillance, concrete ugliness, constant control, and uncertainty. The long-awaited independence returned in 1989 in the form of the Third Polish Republic, immediately presenting new challenges. On one hand, successive areas of sovereignty were gradually handed over to supranational agencies such as the European Union. On the other, the moral, religious, social, and cultural condition of the nation increasingly began to reflect phenomena seen in Western European countries — abandonment of fundamental values such as the natural family, faith, tradition, hierarchy, and authority.
The paradox is that Poles have demonstrated the ability to preserve and nurture their heritage in extreme situations, such as the partitions or the communist era, yet struggle during periods of relaxation, when they enjoy relative freedom, liberty, and security. During such times, vigilance weakens and concern for the foundations of statehood and national interest diminishes. A way out of this predicament can be provided by a national myth that teaches Poles not to see themselves as second-class citizens of the state. The figure who can embody this myth is Bolesław the Brave. Why is his significance so fundamental?
The State-Building Role of Bolesław Chrobry
The history of Poland and the Polish people has always been closely tied to the Catholic religion. It all began with the baptism, which was received in 966 by Mieszko, the duke of the Piast tribe, along with the most important members of his elite. His subjects, drawn from various Slavic tribes, were largely similar in appearance, language, level of development, and beliefs. However, their state was highly decentralized, consisting of loosely connected tribes, clans, and families. Baptism opened the lands of Mieszko to the family of European Christian states, providing a range of benefits: relations with the papacy and the empire, the cessation of raids by other Christian rulers, the development of administration, the influx of scholars, and the advancement of education.
After the death of Mieszko I in 992, his son Bolesław assumed power. He began his reign by exiling his stepmother Oda and her sons, fearing that they might lay claims to the throne. The new ruler thus started his governance by consolidating strong central authority and preventing the fragmentation of the state into districts. He skillfully kept local commanders in check, and relocated discharged mercenaries to sparsely populated areas. Following his father’s example, Bolesław focused on developing the structures of the Church, the army, and the administration. From the outset, he pursued his strategy consistently.
His first political test was the missionary activity of Bishop Adalbert (Wojciech) in Prussia. When the missionary met a martyr’s death, the Polish ruler redeemed his body for its weight in gold and brought it to Gniezno.
Bolesław recognized that Adalbert was surrounded by a form of imperial cult, and at the same time understood that the Piast realm needed its own saint, who at that time significantly enhanced prestige and served as a major political asset. The canonization of Adalbert took place just two years later, in 999, and the full realization of Bolesław’s tactical foresight would occur in the year 1000 during the Congress of Gniezno.
The Congress of Gniezno
The very fact that Emperor Otto III made a pilgrimage to Gniezno broke with the usual imperial custom, according to which the emperor would receive pilgrims and delegations while remaining in his own residence. Symbolically, this was a recognition of Bolesław Chrobry’s status as a partner rather than a mere vassal or subject.6 As recorded in Gallus Anonymus’s chronicle: “The emperor removed his diadem from his own head and placed it upon the head of Bolesław.”
Historians interpret this act in different ways. Most likely, Otto III intended to emphasize the prestige of his host, confirm the legitimacy of Bolesław’s rule in the Piast state, and express approval of his efforts to gain a royal crown. Chrobry was granted the title Friend of the Holy Roman Empire and considered a brother of the emperor. He was also gifted a replica of Saint Maurice’s spear — a symbol of imperial authority. The emperor relieved the Piast duke of the obligation to pay tribute, which effectively signaled independence from German suzerainty.
The most important outcome of the visit, however, was the establishment of an archbishopric in Gniezno, alongside new bishoprics in Kraków, Wrocław, and Koł obrzeg, with Saint Adalbert’s brother, Radzim-Gaudenty, appointed as its head. Poznań had already had its own bishopric since 968, but to carry out a coronation, the presence of an archbishopric was essential.
The echoes of the Congress are preserved in the chronicles of the German bishop Thietmar and in Gallus Anonymus’s account, who wrote:
“Bolesław received him as honorably and magnificently as befits the reception of a king, the Roman emperor, and a distinguished guest. For the emperor’s arrival he prepared marvels beyond compare: first, troops and diverse cavalry units, then dignitaries arranged like choirs on a broad plain, with each separate unit distinguished by the different colors of their garments. And it was no cheap gaudy display of trivial ornaments, but the most costly treasures that could be found anywhere in the world […]. Considering his glory, power, and wealth, the Roman emperor exclaimed in admiration: ‘For the crown of my empire, what I see is greater than the reports had conveyed […].’ And, removing his imperial diadem from his own head, he placed it upon Bolesław’s head as a pledge of friendship and alliance, presenting as a triumphal banner a nail from the Lord’s Cross along with Saint Maurice’s spear, in exchange for which Bolesław offered him the arm of Saint Adalbert. And so on that day they united in such great friendship that the emperor named him a brother and collaborator of the empire, and called him a friend and ally of the Roman people.”
Chrobry – The Warrior
Had Emperor Otto III lived longer, his cooperation with Bolesław Chrobry might have continued to develop. However, the emperor died in 1002, taking with him the idea of a universal empire. He was succeeded by Henry II, who understood imperial power in terms of hegemony and domination. His aggressive policies quickly led to war, during which Chrobry took preemptive action by seizing the disputed regions of Meissen (Milsko) and Lusatia (Łużyce) and also intervened in the Czech throne, temporarily assuming the title of Duke of Bohemia.
The conflict unfolded in three phases (1002–1005, 1007–1013, and 1015–1018) and ended with the Peace of Bautzen. The German wars are primarily seen as a major success of Bolesław Chrobry’s diplomacy: the contested lands came under his control, independence from the empire was confirmed, he demonstrated his military might, and strengthened his authority on the international stage.
A consequence of this conflict was imperial support for the expedition to Kyiv in 1018. Chrobry marched to defend the rule of his son-in-law, Sviatopolk, who was competing with Yaroslav the Wise of the Rurik dynasty. The composition of the Polish ruler’s army underscores his significant position — it included support from German knights, Hungarian units, and the Pechenegs. In the Battle of the Bug River, Chrobry defeated Yaroslav and reached Kyiv, one of the largest cities in the East, where, according to legend, he nicked his sword on the Golden Gate. The Kyiv expedition ended in complete success and is considered the culmination of Bolesław Chrobry’s foreign policy and military achievements. His ally remained temporarily on the throne, new territories and vast war booty were secured, and it demonstrated the strength and prestige of the Piast dynasty under Bolesław.
Chrobry as King
It is possible that the Piast duke could have been crowned soon after the Congress of Gniezno, but the deaths of Pope Sylvester II and Emperor Otto III delayed this. He waited for a favorable moment, which arrived with the temporary weakening of the empire due to an interregnum and the death of Henry II in 1024. Papal approval for the coronation likely came from Pope John XIX.
The coronation marked the culmination of Bolesław Chrobry’s career, elevating his title from duke to king.7 Its primary purpose was to incorporate the state into the Christian world, and this goal was achieved. He transformed loosely connected tribes into a Polish nation, and in 1025 he founded the Kingdom of Poland, which became a full member of the community of Christian states (Christianitas). It was the crowning achievement of years of diplomatic efforts, military campaigns, the development of church and administrative structures, border strengthening, and expansion. From this coronation onwards, a clear pattern can be observed: Polish sovereignty exists when coronations are conducted, and diminishes when they are not.
Summary
The legacy of Bolesław Chrobry cannot be overstated; his role as the father of the nation and state-builder is indisputable. Around the year 1000, the Latin name of the country — Polonia — began to be widely used. The Saxon missionary Bruno of Querfurt referred to it as terra Polonorum (“land of the Poles”) in his chronicle. Coins minted by Chrobry even before his coronation featured the image of a bird and the inscription Princes Polonie (“Prince of Poland”).
What significance does he hold today, 1000 years after his coronation? In the figure of Bolesław, one can find a remedy for the challenges facing Poles today. The young-generation publicist Kacper Kita, in his article titled “Chrobry – a Chance to Build a Victorious Myth?”, notes that Chrobry’s coronation “tells of the victorious striving for greatness of a young state, rather than the dramatic struggle of persecuted, murdered insurgents and partisans. It breaks the stereotype of Poles as a nation of beautiful losers, indulging in their own pain….”8
Even after a millennium, it is impossible to avoid comparing contemporary Poland to the realities in which Chrobry achieved his great deeds. In his era, the nation had not yet emerged and had to be built. Today, the Polish nation fares reasonably well compared to the ethnically mixed societies of Western Europe, but the people remain deeply divided by artificially created political divides — perhaps more than ever before.
Poland is still situated between two powerful entities: Germany and Russia. Chrobry set an example of boldness toward neighbors — when necessary, he did not hesitate to wage war even against the empire. Today, the European Union can be seen as the successor to the empire, seeking increasing power and subordination. Poles currently perceive their position through the lens of historical complexes, often adopting an attitude of weakness, ineffectiveness, and dependence in relation to other states. Even communist propaganda once exploited the image of King Bolesław, who fought against the “German,” Emperor Henry II.
Chrobry also represents the tradition of strong, enforceable authority. Had democratic systems existed in his time, Poland likely would never have become a strong state, getting lost in debates, compromises, jurisdictional disputes, and shirking responsibility. In later eras, elected rulers of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth generally remained relatively weak compared to powerful magnates. Today, Poland increasingly feels the absence of a strong leader and central authority capable of resisting the influence of corporations, supranational organizations, and lobbying groups. Poland needs its myth, and its source can be the father of the nation — Bolesław Chrobry.
— References —
1. After his death, King Bolesław I became known as Bolesław I the Great. Only in the 13th century, during the reconstruction of the Polish Kingdom, was it decided that the adjective “Great” was insufficiently distinctive. At that time, the Old Polish word Chrobry was used, meaning “valiant” or “brave” (chroniclers translated it into Latin as animosus – spirited, bold, daring). Earlier, the form Chabry was also commonly used. The modern spelling was standardized only in the 18th century through Adam Naruszewicz’s monumental History of the Polish Nation.
2. The term Rzeczpospolita, contained in the historical name of the country, does not refer to a republican system but to a “commonwealth” (Latin: Res Publica). The belief that Polish heritage has a republican character is mistaken; for much of its history, the country’s system was a mixed monarchy (monarchia mixta), combining democratic, aristocratic, and monarchical elements.
3. The candidacy of Stanisław August Poniatowski for the throne was pushed through by Catherine II, who expected complete subordination. However, the king used all available diplomatic means to improve the welfare of his subjects and to secure concessions for them. According to memoirs and correspondence, the last coronated King of Poland deserves rehabilitation.
4. The Regency Council, consisting of Archbishop Kakowski and Princes Lubomirski and Ostrowski, was appointed by the occupying powers, yet its actions allowed the creation of the foundations of an independent Polish state, including its legal system, administration, local governance, and education. The proclamation of the independence of the Kingdom of Poland expressed sovereign will and was not approved by the occupiers.
5. According to the Report on Losses Suffered by Poland (2022), losses to Poland, calculated at current exchange rates, amount to approximately €1.5 trillion.
6. A similar gift was received by Saint Stephen I, King of Hungary, and by Bohemian Duke Bretislaus II.
7. Bolesław Chrobry’s sword, Szczerbiec, became the coronation sword of Polish kings and is the only known regalia to have survived from the Piast dynasty. Today, it is kept at the Royal Castle in Wawel. Historians disagree about its origin; some believe it was forged at a later date.
8. The quoted passage comes from the commemorative publication Obecność korony. Raport o wielkiej tradycji państwowej (eng. The Presence of the Crown: Report on the State of a Great State Tradition), published in 2025 by Dębogóra Publishing, in which many respected figures from public life in Poland – clergy, professors, journalists, and writers – were asked to share reflections on monarchy, statehood, and heritage.
