Reconsidering the Polish-Language Legacy of Belarus: Florian Czarnyszewicz on His Identity and Homeland

30.04.2026

In this essay, writer, literary scholar, and IWM fellow Hanna Yankuta explores the complex cultural and national identities reflected in the Polish-language literary legacy of Belarus through the life and work of Florian Czarnyszewicz.

When it came to Poland’s relations with Belarus and its other neighbors, Jerzy Giedroyc—a Minsk-born Polish publicist, political activist, and editor of the émigré periodical Kultura—offered the following definition: “We are a country that shares common heroes with its neighbors... In this strange puzzle lie our great opportunities.” The Polish-speaking writer Florian Czarnyszewicz is certainly such a figure. A Catholic and an anti-communist, he was born in 1900 near the city of Babruysk in eastern Belarus. This multilingual, multi-ethnic and multi-confessional region was historically part of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which united with the Polish Crown to form the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1569 and became part of the Russian Empire at the end of the 18th century. In his youth, Czarnyszewicz witnessed World War I, the Russian Revolution of 1917, and the Polish-Soviet War, in which he fought on the Polish side. In 1921, his homeland became part of the Soviet Union under the Treaty of Riga (and subsequently the Belarusian SSR), making it impossible for him to live there. In 1924, he emigrated to Argentina, where he became an active member of the Polish diaspora and wrote the novels Nadberezyńcy (The Biarezinians), Wicik ŻywicaLosy pasierbów (The Fate of the Stepchildren), and Chłopcy z Nowoszyszek (The Boys from Nowoszyszki)—in Polish, but mainly about the Belarusian lands.

The title of his most famous novel, Nadberezyńcy, means “the Biarezinians,” or “the people from above the Biarezina river,” which flows through Babruysk. Published in Buenos Aires in 1942, the novel recounts the period between 1910 and 1920 in the Belarusian lands and offers a pro-Polish perspective on the region. This perspective contrasts sharply with the depictions of the region found in the Belarusian-language literature of the time and later. The Polish language used in the novel differs from that used in Polish literary works. It contains many words and entire dialogues in local dialects, as well as Belarusian and Russian phrases. The novel features characters from different linguistic and religious backgrounds who identify as Polish, Belarusian, Jewish, and so on.

Czarnyszewicz remained in Argentina until the end of his life. He died in 1964 and was buried in the town of Villa Carlos Paz in the province of Córdoba. His tombstone has the inscription in Spanish: "Soldado, obrero, escritor y patriota polaco"—“Soldier, worker, writer and Polish patriot.” This raises questions about how Czarnyszewicz—who was born in a region that had not been part of the interwar Polish Republic (1918–1939) and emigrated to Argentina at quite a young age—really defined himself.

Florian Czarnyszewicz. Source: “Głos Polski” (Buenos Aires), № 39 (2998), 1965

Some answers can be found in the correspondence between Czarnyszewicz and Kastuś Akuła, a Belarusian émigré writer. A portion of it is held at the Francis Skaryna Belarusian Library and Museum in London, which is home to the largest archive of Belarusian emigration. Born in 1925, Akuła lived in western Belarus, which became part of the Polish Republic under the Treaty of Riga, before being incorporated into the Soviet Union in 1939 and becoming part of the Belarusian SSR. He left at the end of World War II, living in the UK for several years before moving to Canada, where he remained for the rest of his life. He identified himself very clearly as Belarusian. The two writers exchanged four letters between 1961 and 1963. Czarnyszewicz wrote in Polish and Akuła in Belarusian, and they understood each other perfectly.

Below is one of Czarnyszewicz’s quotes, in which he describes the pro-Polish inhabitants of Belarus:

“Many of them did not speak Polish at home, but they did not accept the name ‘White’ or ‘Black Ruthenians’ [Belarusians or Black Rusians], because to them, ‘Ruthenian’ meant three-quarters Moscovian. They called themselves Poles, but they felt their distinct identity… I, too, am a son of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. My father, grandfather, and my grandfather's grandfather were born and laid their bones in this land.”

This self-definition is certainly broader than that of a “Polish patriot.” Czarnyszewicz found his identity in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, an entity that at the time had not existed for almost two centuries. After the significant changes that had taken place in the first half of the 20th century, it was difficult for him to even name his homeland. However, he was not the only person to use this self-definition: for example, the Polish poet Czesław Miłosz, who was born in Šeteniai (now in Lithuania), also defined himself as a “citizen of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.” Some of the Polish-speaking inhabitants of the area at the time adopted this definition, since they were unable to identify as either Belarusian or Lithuanian.

The title of Czarnyszewicz’s novel Nadberezyńcy—meaning “the people from above the Biarezina river”—was another form of self-identification: neither Polish, nor Belarusian, but belonging to a region near the river.

Florian Czarnyszewicz “Nadberezyńcy”, 1942. Source: Francis Skaryna Belarusian Library and Museum in London

The correspondence between Czarnyszewicz and Akuła was not especially polite, addressing as it did the sensitive topic of relations between Belarusians and Poles. Their shared history was marred by many dark chapters from the era of the interwar Polish Republic, World War II and the post-war period, and these memories were still very vivid at that time. Although both writers were born in the Belarusian lands, they could hardly call themselves compatriots. They failed to understand each other because they had completely different perceptions of Poland.

For Akuła, Poland was synonymous with the interwar Polish Republic with all its problems and contradictions, including discrimination against Belarusians and other nations. The idea of Poles and Belarusians coexisting in one state did not seem attractive to him. He believed that Czarnyszewicz’s novels legitimized Polish territorial claims to Belarus by depicting an authentic Polish presence in the region.

For Czarnyszewicz, Poland was synonymous with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth: a multinational, multi-ethnic entity whose restoration he dreamed of. He believed that this Poland could be a country for both Poles and Belarusians. In Nadberezyńcy and in his second novel, Wicik Żywica, he depicted this vision of his homeland, preserved in emigration and rooted in a time before the state borders between Poland and Belarus were established. Although he held a pro-Polish position, he didn’t live in the Polish Republic and saw his homeland beyond the boundaries of nation-states.

Florian Czarnyszewicz’s grave in Villa Carlos Paz, Source: HY

Other Polish-speaking writers of the same generation from eastern Belarus were also forced to leave their homes between the Russian Revolution of 1917 and the Treaty of Riga, including Melchior Wańkowicz, Maria Czapska, and Michał Kryspin Pawlikowski. Most of them settled in the Polish Republic, but after World War II, they were forced to emigrate again. Interest in these authors is now growing in Belarus, and some of their works have already been translated into Belarusian. These writers wrote about the Belarusian lands, reflecting on their history and political development and sharing their own experiences of living there. They also reflected on their relations with their neighbors, primarily Belarusians and Jews, as they remembered them or as they later reconstructed them in light of subsequent events. Their perspective differs from that presented in the Belarusian-language literature at the time, but also complements it.

Was this generation unique? The answer is clearly no. The history of Polish-language literature written in the Belarusian lands or, more broadly, in the lands of the former Grand Duchy of Lithuania began in the era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, when the upper class adopted Polish. In the 19th century and at the beginning of the 20th century, some writers in the Belarusian lands wrote exclusively in Polish, while others wrote mainly in Belarusian. Still others used both languages in different proportions and for different purposes. The most notable writers from this region who wrote in Polish, such as Adam Mickiewicz and Eliza Orzeszkowa, are primarily recognized as Polish writers. Some of them are included in the Belarusian literary canon, particularly those who wrote not only in Polish, but also in Belarusian—even if it was just one poem or one line. However, it is impossible to draw clear boundaries between Polish and Belarusian (and sometimes other identities) in this literature. Writers who used different languages were in contact with each other, influencing each other’s work. This borderless literature is difficult to define terminologically; it is a “strange puzzle,” to use Jerzy Giedroyc's turn of phrase.

Florian Czarnyszewicz and other Polish-speaking writers born in the Belarusian lands at the turn of the 20th century were the last generation of this literature. They grew up before the establishment of the state border between the Belarusian SSR and the Polish Republic, as well as those with other neighboring countries. This generation witnessed the creation of these borders and observed how people gained a new sense of identity and agency, exercising it in various ways. They had to choose a national identity, but this couldn’t be done overnight. Their choices were influenced by their political views, religious beliefs, class affiliation, and so on. However, the Polish component of their identities is undoubtedly the most visible and recognized.


Hanna Yankuta is a Belarusian writer, translator, literary theorist, PhD in literary studies, and independent researcher. She is the author of the book Barren Time (2023), for which she was awarded the Jerzy Giedroyć Prize (2nd place) and the Ales Adamovich Prize in 2024; the poetry project Constitution (2022); books for children; and a number of essays. She translates from Polish and English. Her main academic interest lies in creating a narrative of the complex multilingual and multicomponent identities in Belarus and their reflection in the works of Polish-speaking writers born in the Belarusian lands at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, as well as in the works of Belarusian- and Yiddish-speaking writers of the same generation.