Despite important differences, contemporary narratives about the Grand Duchy of Lithuania remain strongly influenced by national frameworks inherited from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. As a result, interpretations of the GDL often continue to reflect modern political, cultural and identity-related concerns rather than the complexity of the historical reality itself. 

The paper focuses not only on academic historiography but also on broader public narratives, including school textbooks, popular history, media representations and political discourse. In the context of the ongoing war in Eastern Europe, historical narratives increasingly serve not only as interpretations of the past but also as frameworks through which contemporary political and social realities are understood. As Benedict Anderson observed, the “census, map, museum” were among the primary tools for creating the image and imagination of the modern nation in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, serving to unite populations around shared national symbols and historical references.[1] The census and the map created grammar, while archaeology, museumification, education, and the media created and multiplied the logos of states and introduced them into political circulation. Therefore, the paper examines the ways in which different national historiographies and public narratives interpret the legacy of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and how these interpretations continue to shape contemporary understandings of history and identity in the countries that emerged from its historical space. 

The renewal and updating of knowledge, historical memory, and thinking, bringing them into line with reality, depends on the agenda. According to Jacques Derrida, the agenda of memory is created by authorities who “control the archives”,[2] and, we may add, by the education system and the media. In Belarus, the traditional “silent custodians” of history such as archivists, librarians, collectors, and teachers,[3] are state structures and controlled by the political vertical of dictatorship. Although purges have been carried out, despite these efforts no successful multi-level state narrative rooted in archetypes and a long historical tradition has emerged; attempts instead degenerated into the creation of a pro-Lukashenka pseudo-Soviet personal dictatorship.

Historical narratives are therefore not neutral representations of the past but frameworks through which societies interpret identity, political community and relations with their neighbours.

To reinterpret events for mobilizational and pragmatic purposes, interested groups employ technologies of creating “sites of memory” within larger narratives and discourses in textbooks and the media. Textbooks and academic literature on which school and higher education are based create the “correct” map of the world and establish a value system that most children absorb uncritically. As adults, many continue to regard these narratives as part of their identity and defend them accordingly. Traditional and modern media draw narratives, meanings, and plots from these cultural frameworks, reinforcing them through repetition and emotion in accordance with the needs of elites.

To create long-term motivating ideas for society (since educated people enter the workforce eight to fifteen years after beginning education), educational and media discourse introduces narratives positively evaluating the ancestors of one’s own nation. According to these narratives, there once existed “good old days” (each nation has its own), flawless archetypal leaders, heroes, cultural creators, entrepreneurs, mothers, saints, and martyrs in the Frommian sense of stereotyped politics. Ideally, the heroes of the narrative either belong to the titular nation or are attributed to it, and historical events unfold on “its historical lands.” For the simplified national narratives of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it does not matter whether the historical figures themselves identified with the community or land to which the modern nation later attached them.

Thus history ceases to be a science and becomes politically instrumentalized. Positive examples of institutions in the past such as economy, politics, culture, family, religion, are created. They motivate society, demonstrating that problems can in principle be overcome and offering examples of successful or failed historical scenarios. At the same time, negative narratives appear in public discourse to demonstrate the costs of development and assign blame for present problems to the “vices” of one’s own or others’ ancestors. “The difficult trials of our people’s historical destiny” are usually blamed on “outsiders” who are treated as  invaders, barbarians, traitors, exploiters, hypocrites, and executioners.

A characteristic tendency in many twentieth-century national textbooks and popular narratives concerning “historical tragedies” is competition over victimhood and contributions to historical processes. The enemy’s power is exaggerated, and supposedly insurmountable obstacles to the actions of past institutions and historical figures are emphasized. 

While these narratives draw on a common historical legacy, they often emphasize different historical actors, events and symbols. As a result, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania occupies different places in contemporary national narratives. The following sections examine how its legacy is interpreted in Belarusian, Latvian, Lithuanian, Ukrainian, Russian and Polish narratives.

From this perspective, the paper examines how the narrative of the GDL appears among the peoples whose nations were partially or wholly formed on its territory and among ethnic groups whose ancestors participated in it during the pre-national era of the thirteenth to eighteenth centuries. 

Modern Latvian historiography is based on the views of its founders from the mid-twentieth century, who sought to purge the influence of the “Germans,” “Poles,” and “Russians” — enemies of the Latvians. Positive reference points in the narrative include tribal principalities and twentieth-century independence . Usievalad of Jersika and Viačka of Koknese are categorized as Latgalians. “Good Latvian infantry,” the development of culture in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the first Latvian printing and schools are presented as exceptional achievements that arose independently of Germans and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The Swedish period is likewise presented independently from the legacy of the GDL. Remarkably, even the Latgalians themselves ( the tribe from which the nation’s name derives ) are nearly absent from the narrative. Russian rule is frequently presented in negative terms. Within this narrative, Russians (“krievs”) often appear as an external force, while Belarusians (“Baltkrievs”) are largely absent. Similarly, there is little reference to the Principality of Polack or the Dzvina trade routes from Belarus that contributed to 2/3 of Riga’s prosperity. During the Commonwealth period, the GDL disappeared entirely and is equated with Poland. Lithuanian magnates such as the Radziwiłłs (Radziviłs) and Chodkiewiczs (Chadkievičs) are classified as Poles.[4]

Very broadly speaking, the traditional Lithuanian historiographical view of the GDL (represented by A. Šapoka and E. Gudavičius)[5], which regarded it as an exclusively ethnic Lithuanian state, has gradually softened through the works of A. Bumblauskas and R. Kamuntavičius toward recognition of it as a shared state with significant contributions from other peoples.[6] One of the more sensitive issues in Lithuanian public discourse remains the perception that Belarusian interpretations of the GDL challenge established Lithuanian understandings of this historical legacy, Lithuanian right-wing politicians often project contemporary political realities backward onto history. Maps with current borders and trade routes are displayed while Belarusians are ignored or erased from Lithuanian history, replaced by Ukrainians, Poles, and Russians. In some popular media representations and online historical content, these tendencies can be observed in particularly visible ways. For example, some Lithuanian TV and YouTube media representations produced during 2021–2022 depicted “fantastic” historical routes maps connecting Vilnius with Kraków or Ukraine while completely bypassing present-day Belarus territory.

Such interpretations tend to emphasize national perspectives on the past, while giving less attention to the interconnected historical experiences of neighboring peoples. Moreover, the 2023 7th-grade textbook History of Belarus states: “Thus, the term Litvins referred not only to the ancestors of modern Lithuanians, but also to Belarusians. As early as 1382, Polack is mentioned in chronicles as a fortress of White Rus’.” Likewise, alongside maps produced by the Lithuanian Taryba during the post–World War I East European border formation period, which laid claim to “Old Lithuanian” or analogous “Ukrainian” ethnographic lands, Belarusian textbooks contain the official ethnographic maps of J. Karski from the same period, as well as linguistic census data from the Russian Empire in 1898. In recent years, based on the author’s observations, historical maps and territorial interpretations have become increasingly visible in online discussions and social media debates across the region. For the Ukrainian historical narrative, the most positive images of the ancient past are: Saint Volodymyr/Vladimir, Yaroslav the Wise, Kyivan Rus’, and the Old Ukrainian language in the GDL as the language of the GDL chancery. Belarusian historical narratives often approach this issue differently and generally reject interpretations that present the culture and religion of the Rus’ population of the GDL as belonging exclusively to the ancestors of modern Ukrainians.[7] Instead, they emphasize the shared East Slavic character of this heritage, the role of the Old Belarusian language in the administration of the GDL, and the importance of the Belarusian lands within its Slavic territories. 

In recent years, particularly following the outbreak of the full-scale war, Ukraine has witnessed renewed public interest in the history of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. Within these interpretations, the Ostrogski family has attracted increased attention in connection with the victory at Orša in 1514 and is frequently presented as part of the Ukrainian historical tradition, while other magnates associated with the Ukrainian lands of the Commonwealth are more often categorized as Polish. At the same time, the Zaporozhian Cossacks  are cherished as heroes only.

Belarusian and Ukrainian interpretations of the medieval and early modern past differ on several important issues. Belarusian narratives place particular emphasis on figures such as Rahneda and on the history of the Principality of Polack, while the GDL is often presented in Ukrainian narratives primarily through Lithuanian and later Polish political traditions. In attempts to replace the confessional term “Rus’” used for the Orthodox population of the GDL with the territorial designation of the Ruthenian Voivodeship of the Crown, sources indicating the existence of fourteen “Rus’” voivodeships within the Commonwealth are often ignored. Belarusian interpretations also tend to place greater emphasis on phenomena such as Cossack raids and the taking of captives, which receive less attention in many contemporary Ukrainian national narratives. Particular disagreement also concerns the interpretation of early twentieth-century ethnographic maps, some of which included territories such as the Brest region and Kuban within broader representations of Ukrainian ethnic territory. When historical territorial representations are transferred into contemporary political debates, they may contribute to political controversies and competing interpretations of the past. 

The turn toward the instrumental use of history in Putin’s Russia became obvious when, during the all-Russian interactive poll “Name of Russia” in 2008, Joseph Stalin nearly became recognized as the greatest ruler; only after intervention by the presidential administration was Alexander Nevsky declared the winner.[8] One widely discussed example was Putin’s reference to the Pechenegs tribes in the context of Russia’s war against Ukraine and his interpretation of the relationship between Kyivan Rus’ and modern Russia.[9] This interpretation reflects a long-standing tradition within Russian historical discourse, although it remains contested by many historians outside Russia, but it is an old substitution of concepts used for political manipulation.

Today, official Russian historical discourse increasingly reflects imperial and state-centred interpretations of the past. Moscow-centred interpretations increasingly occupy a dominant position within official Russian historical discourse. The nineteenth-century concept of the triune Russian people, where Belarusians and Ukrainians do not exist, has re-emerged in contemporary official historical discourse and is being aggressively promoted. In contemporary interpretations of the triune nation concept, Russia is frequently presented as the central historical actor, while the perspectives and historical agency of Belarusians and Ukrainians receive considerably less attention. Within this framework, the distinctiveness of Belarusians and Ukrainians is often questioned or presented as secondary to broader narratives of Russian historical unity. 

Therefore, despite attempts by some liberal historians to present the GDL as an “alternative Rus’ project,” official discourse equates the nobility of the GDL with the Polish nobility. It is depicted as alien and treacherous to Russians. Smolensk is portrayed as “the gateway to Russia,” and its history allegedly contains no Belarusian ancestors. In contemporary Russian historical policy, Belarusians are frequently presented either as part of a broader Russian historical community or receive limited visibility as distinct historical actors in narratives of Kyivan Rus’ and the GDL, while the historical experiences of Belarusian territories and communities often receive extremely limited attention. According to these views, Russia’s development was entirely autonomous and uninfluenced culturally or intellectually by its neighbors, deriving influence primarily from Byzantium  and later from Germany.

The transfer of Russia’s main autumn holiday from November 7 to November 5 was justified by the expulsion of the “Poles” (the garrison of M. Struś and J. Budziłło) from the Kremlin. First was from near Vinnitsa, second – from Mazyr nobility, but in Russian narratives this land is not historically GDL, Ukrainian, Belarusian, this is Poland. Over the past decade, Russians have increasingly been presented with the “Time of Troubles” (1604–1613) as the worst event in their distant history — supposedly even worse than the Mongol yoke. The Russian Military-Historical Society organized openly ahistorical and Polonophobic exhibitions titled “Ten Centuries of Polish Russophobia” (of course ignoring ancestors of Belarusians and justifying through “Polish intervention” all subsequent war crimes in Eastern Europa) in iconic places: on Tverskoy Boulevard in Moscow in 2025 and later in Katyn (place of Polish officer mass executions in 1940) in the spring of 2026.[10] Following Belarus, the discourse of victimhood has recently introduced the concept of the “Genocide of the Soviet People,” increasingly merging it with and substituting for the victims of Stalinism. This tendency was reflected in the renaming of the closed “Museum of GULAG Victims” in 2026.[11]

The GDL becomes perceived as both “ours” and “Polish” through the high level of familiarity Poles have with the history of their country and families, the monuments of the Union of Lublin, street names, and the Polish-language Romanticism of the nineteenth century, upon which generations of Poles were educated. Foundational texts of the national narrative include the poetry of A. Mickiewicz (origin from polish speaking belarusian nobil family) and the poem Forefathers’ Eve (Dziady), which begins with the famous phrase: “O Lithuania, my homeland!”. This sense of connection and appropriation is strengthened by the fact that many modern Poles descend from noble families of the GDL and from postwar migrants resettled after 1945 onto the formerly German territories from the “Eastern Borderlands” (Kresy). Within this discourse, the Litvins appear as a “younger brother,” associated with sentimental images of the “good old days” shaped by Mickiewicz’s poetry and Sienkiewicz’s historical novels.

The extent to which particular historical narratives remain embedded in both public memory and expert discussions can be illustrated by a national poll conducted in 2025 to mark the millennium of Polish statehood (25,421 respondents). In the public vote, the highest-ranked rulers were Casimir III the Great, Jadwiga and Bolesław I, figures commonly associated with the core national historical narrative. By contrast, a panel of thirty professional historians ranked rulers of the Jagiellonian period highest: Casimir IV Jagiellon, Władysław Jagiełło and Sigismund II Augustus.[12] The results suggest that the legacy of the Polish-Lithuanian political tradition continues to occupy an important place in expert understandings of Polish history, even when public and expert assessments differ.

Within some traditional Polish interpretations of ethno-centric national history from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, “Poland lies between Germany and Russia.” Modern national narratives often project contemporary ethnic understandings onto the past. As a result, the Commonwealth is sometimes interpreted primarily through the prism of modern Polish national history, while the role of “Litvins” and “Rus’ins” (historical population of GDLs Rus in 13-18 ctr. clearly differed themselves from Moscow) becomes less visible. This tendency can be observed in representations of military history, including battles such as Orša and Kircholm, where the contribution of GDL forces is frequently interpreted differently across national historical traditions. In some popular representations, victories achieved by the Commonwealth are presented primarily as Polish achievements, while the participation of Litvin and Rus’ian military elites receives less attention. Polish uprisings of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries are explained through a historical tradition of attachment to freedom and political autonomy, Polish settler colonization of the eastern Kresy is  often presented as bringing culture, education, political institutions and religious tolerance.. The influence of Ruthenian (Belarusian and Ukrainian) culture and economy on Poland is absent from this narrative, despite such examples as the Orthodox frescoes in the Gothic Holy Trinity Chapel in Lublin and in the cathedral chapel at Wawel of Kraków, a coronation and mausoleum place of Polish kings.

The examples discussed above inevitably simplify much more complex historical processes. Nevertheless, simplified historical narratives often play an important role in contemporary public discourse. In the context of digital media and social networks, concise and emotionally charged interpretations of the past frequently attract greater public attention than more nuanced historical analyses. As a result, historical narratives continue to influence contemporary understandings of identity, collective memory and relations between neighbouring societies. At the same time, contemporary Polish academic historiography increasingly incorporates more complex and multiethnic perspectives on the history of the region, even if such approaches are not always reflected in broader public perceptions. 

Conclusion

The comparison of Belarusian, Lithuanian, Latvian, Ukrainian, Russian and Polish narratives demonstrates that interpretations of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania continue to be strongly influenced by national frameworks inherited from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Although these narratives differ considerably in their treatment of historical actors, territories and political traditions, they often project contemporary identities and political concerns onto the past. As a result, the same historical events, figures and institutions are interpreted in different ways and incorporated into competing national histories.

At the same time, important differences can be observed across the region. While some contemporary narratives increasingly acknowledge the multiethnic character of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, others continue to privilege more exclusive interpretations centred on a single nation or state tradition. Historical shortsightedness, failure to notice your own neighbours, a legacy of the colonial past and one of the causes of conflicts in the region. The comparison of these narratives illustrates not only the persistence of historical disagreements, but also the continuing importance of the GDL as a shared reference point in contemporary historical memory across Eastern Europe.

About this publication

This analytical paper was prepared within the project Belarusian Historical Scholarship in Exile: Current State and Challenges, implemented with the financial support of the EU4Belarus: Support to Advanced Learning and Training (SALT II) programme, funded by the European Union.

The paper forms part of a series of analytical publications examining the current state, key challenges and future perspectives of Belarusian historical scholarship in exile. While informed by discussions held during a closed expert seminar, it reflects the analysis and conclusions of the author(s).

The views and opinions expressed in this publication are solely those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the European Union, the EU4Belarus: Support to Advanced Learning and Training (SALT II) programme, the International Centre for Ethnic and Linguistic Diversity Studies (ICELDS), or the Belarusian Institute in Prague.