The Katyn Memorial in London, unveiled on 18 September 1976 at Gunnersbury Cemetery, was the world’s first permanent public commemoration of the victims of the Katyn massacre. Its story is not only one of the monument’s creation, but also of the Polish émigré community’s long struggle for historical truth, against political pressure and a conspiracy of silence.

From the moment the mass graves were uncovered in 1943, the Katyn issue became deeply uncomfortable for the British authorities. During the war, they refrained from criticising the Soviet Union, then an ally in the fight against the Third Reich. After the war, silence was maintained for the sake of diplomatic relations. The initiative to build a memorial was politically inconvenient and met with numerous administrative and diplomatic obstacles.

The choice of location for the memorial was a matter of considerable controversy. Initial plans proposed sites such as Brompton Oratory and St Luke’s Church, but opposition from the Anglican Church and political pressure eventually led to the selection of Gunnersbury Cemetery: a compromise. As historians Bogusław and Michał Polak have observed, this site, “although remote from the centre, became a land of witness.”

The Émigré Community’s Struggle for Memory
Formal efforts to erect a memorial commemorating the victims of the Katyn massacre in London began in October 1971 with the establishment of the Katyn Memorial Fund. However, the first proposal to build the memorial had already been made anonymously a few months earlier, in the spring of 1971, by Major Roman Królikowski. His initiative was a response to a growing wave of commemorative activities, including press articles, documentary films, international press conferences and parliamentary debates. In April of that year, a press conference on the Katyn massacre was held at the Polish Institute and General Sikorski Museum in London. Two months later, in June, a debate on the subject was initiated in the House of Lords by Lord Barnby. Around the same time, BBC2 broadcast a documentary on the massacre, and the British press began to publish articles revealing the truth about the atrocity.

The Committee, officially established on 18 October 1971, enjoyed significant political and public support. It was chaired by Lord Barnby, and its members included Airey Neave, Sir Frederic Bennett, Winston Churchill (grandson of the wartime Prime Minister), Edward du Cann, Toby Jessel, Raymond Fletcher, General Roy Bucher, Sir Malby Crofton, Sir John Sinclair, James Spicer, Frank Tomney and Alan Williams. The Polish émigré community was also well represented, with members including General Stanisław Kopański, Dr Zdzisław Stahl and Zygmunt Szadkowski. The initiative received the patronage of the Polish Presidents-in-Exile August Zaleski and Stanisław Ostrowski, Ambassador Edward Raczyński, Generals Ludwik Ząbkowski and Karol Ziemski, President Alojzy Mazewski and Counsellors Stefan Korboński and Stefan Kolańczyk.

Despite widespread support, the project encountered significant obstacles from the outset. One of the principal challenges was the lack of a plot of land under the jurisdiction of the Polish government-in-exile, which meant that permission had to be sought from local British authorities. The initial plan was to situate the memorial at Brompton Oratory or St Luke’s Church in Kensington. Although the City Council approved the proposal, the Anglican Church, citing the fact that the site had once been a cemetery, refused to endorse it. As editor Katarzyna Bzowska later observed, the decision stemmed not from ecclesiastical concerns alone, but from behind-the-scenes political manoeuvring and pressure from Soviet diplomacy. The diocesan tribunal, and subsequently the diocesan chancellor, upheld the ruling, forcing the Committee to search for an alternative location.

After much effort, a site was finally secured at Gunnersbury Cemetery in south-west London, the resting place of many prominent Polish émigrés, including General Józef Haller, General Tadeusz Bór-Komorowski and President Tadeusz Bielecki. Although the site was somewhat peripheral and less prestigious, it held strong symbolic meaning: envisioned as a space of remembrance, a site of testimony and a silent protest against the suppression of historical truth.

The collective efforts of émigré organisations and the families of the murdered officers led to the successful raising of substantial funds: over £10,000 in the United Kingdom and a further £11,000 contributed by the Katyn Committee in Chicago. The initiative also received backing from representatives of the American Consulate. A central figure in the campaign was Louis FitzGibbon, a writer, former Royal Navy officer and author of the landmark publication Katyn: A Crime Without Parallel (1971). FitzGibbon played a key role in coordinating fundraising, disseminating information and engaging with the media. He documented the Committee’s work, gave public talks, wrote articles, took photographs and remained a tireless advocate for the Katyn cause.

Opposition to the erection of the memorial was strong: not only from the Anglican Church and certain elements of the British establishment, but most vocally from the Soviet Union. Soviet diplomacy made repeated efforts to obstruct the project. On 15 April 1971, 8 September 1972 and 2 March 1973, diplomatic notes (démarches) were delivered to the British government, denouncing the initiative as an “anti-Soviet campaign” and a “reactionary provocation.” The Soviet ambassador accused the British authorities of “distorting historical facts” and condoning “actions detrimental to mutual relations.” Following the election of a Labour government in 1974, opposition intensified. The new communist ambassador to London, Artur Starewicz, joined the protests, claiming that the memorial was “intended to initiate anti-Soviet sentiment among the British public.”

At the time, the British authorities were engaged in trade negotiations with the People’s Republic of Poland and sought to avoid sensitive issues that might jeopardise relations with the Eastern Bloc. As a result, they offered no official support for the Katyn memorial initiative. Ultimately, they approved only a compromise inscription: one that avoided naming the perpetrators, omitted the word “Russia,” and made no reference to the location of the massacre. This stance was met with criticism from both the Polish émigré community and British military officers. Some of the latter, in defiance of Prime Minister James Callaghan’s directive, attended the unveiling ceremony in uniform: an act that went unpunished.

The foundation stone for the memorial was laid on 1 July 1976, and the unveiling ceremony took place on 18 September of the same year. Around 8,000 people attended the event, including representatives of the Polish government-in-exile, Christian churches, Jewish communities, Polish diaspora organisations from across the globe and diplomats from the United States, Brazil, Colombia, Uruguay, Liberia and Bolivia. Notably absent were representatives of the British government and Western European nations. The final wording of the inscription, approved by Defence Minister Roy Mason, omitted any direct reference to the Soviet Union.

From the outset, it was evident that the initiative was far from local. The efforts of the Polish community in the United Kingdom were supported by compatriots around the world: families of the victims, veterans of the Anders Army, émigré associations, the Polish American Congress, the Katyn Committee in Chicago and many others. The remembrance of Katyn ‒ suppressed from international awareness, censored in the People’s Republic of Poland, and silenced in the West ‒ required a collective act of resistance. Thus, the construction of the memorial was more than a gesture of remembrance; it was a moral declaration ‒ an act of defiance against historical falsehood and a testament to the resolve of the Polish émigré community.

A key role in documenting these efforts was played by the publication Katyn 1940: For Truth and Justice. Katyn Memorial in London, which compiled a rich collection of source materials, speeches, press coverage, analyses and photographs. For scholars researching the Katyn massacre and its reception in the West, it remains one of the most significant testimonies of the period.

A shift in official policy came with the election of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister in 1979. From that point onwards, representatives of the British government began attending the annual commemorations, which were also accompanied by an official military escort. For the first time, the Regimental Band of the Royal Irish Hussars performed at the memorial. Moscow’s response, as expected, was unequivocally hostile.

The Form of the Memorial
The Katyn Memorial in London stands 6.5 metres tall and is carved in black granite. Its form is simple yet monumental, composed of three main elements. At its centre is a stylised white eagle, the Polish national emblem, encircled by a wreath of barbed wire.

Beneath this striking image appears a stark and unambiguous inscription: KATYŃ / 1940. The emphasis on the year of the atrocity held both political and symbolic weight: an open accusation of the perpetrators. At the base of the monument are plaques bearing inscriptions in both Polish and English. One of them reads:

“In memory of the 14,500 Polish prisoners of war who perished in the camps of Kozelsk, Starobielsk and Ostashkov in 1940, 4,500 of whom were later identified in mass graves at Katyn near Smolensk.”

On 11 November 1976, by decree of the President of the Republic of Poland in exile, Stanisław Ostrowski, the Cross of the Order of Virtuti Militari, the highest Polish military decoration, was placed on the memorial as a posthumous honour to the murdered officers. In this way, the monument became a site of both national and military remembrance.

In April 1990, following the Soviet Union’s official admission of responsibility for the massacre, an additional English-language plaque was installed:

“As finally admitted in April 1990 by the U.S.S.R. after fifty years of shameful denial of the truth.”

Sources, publications and films
Interest in the Katyn massacre and its remembrance, particularly the London memorial, has seen periods of renewed intensity. One such moment occurred as early as 1971, when the BBC broadcast a documentary revisiting the facts of the atrocity and the reactions of Western governments. This act of journalistic courage sparked public debate in the United Kingdom and attracted considerable attention in Polish émigré communities. In the decades that followed, further efforts were made to confront the subject, particularly after 1990, when the Soviet Union officially acknowledged its responsibility for the massacre.

Among the most important sources on the subject remains the publication Katyn 1940: For Truth and Justice. The Katyn Memorial in London, edited by Stefan Sobolewski. This volume offers an invaluable record not only of the history of the memorial’s construction at Gunnersbury Cemetery, but also of the broader reception of the Katyn massacre in the West. It includes a carefully curated selection of documents, speeches, press articles, eyewitness accounts from the unveiling ceremony and photographs chronicling the various stages of the commemorative efforts. More than a documentary collection, this publication also holds symbolic weight: it was produced in 1977, just one year after the unveiling of the monument, at a time when open discussion of Katyn remained politically sensitive and officially discouraged.

A distinct strand in the literature consists of memoirs and documentary publications by individuals involved in the process of constructing the memorial. Of particular significance is The Katyn Memorial (London, 1977) by Louis FitzGibbon, an expanded version of his earlier work Katyn: A Crime Without Parallel. FitzGibbon was not only the author of these volumes but also an active participant in the events he describes, serving as secretary of the Memorial Building Committee. His account offers a valuable behind-the-scenes perspective on the information campaign, the responses of the media and political circles and his personal experience in the struggle for historical truth. FitzGibbon’s publications resonated widely—not only in the United Kingdom but also among the Polish communities in the United States and Canada. They became important tools in raising awareness of the Katyn massacre and advocating for its dignified commemoration.

In 2013, the collective volume Society – Army – Politics, published to mark the jubilee of Professor Adam Czesław Dobroński, included an article by Bogusław and Michał Polak entitled The London History of the Katyn Memorial, 1971–1976. This piece serves as a scholarly preliminary study for their later research into the subject.

Also noteworthy is Tomasz Korban’s article The Issue of the Construction of the Katyn Memorial in London, 1971–1979, in the Light of Polish and British Diplomatic Sources, published in Dzieje Najnowsze (2019, no. 4). This study offers a detailed analysis of diplomatic correspondence and the reactions of the governments in London, Warsaw and Moscow; it sheds light on the complex interplay of influence and resistance that surrounded the commemoration initiative.

A significant scholarly contribution has also been made by Bogusław and Michał Polak, authors of the article In the Shadow of Great Politics: The London History of the Katyn Memorial, 1971–1979 (Saeculum Christianum, 2021). Drawing on extensive archival research and analysis of British, Soviet and Polish documents, the authors offer a comprehensive reconstruction of the circumstances surrounding the memorial’s creation. They highlight the diplomatic tensions involved, the covert operations of the PRL and USSR authorities and the public reactions in Britain. Of particular note is their account of how the British government employed a policy of “geopolitical realism”: deliberately silencing the Katyn issue to preserve relations with the Soviet Union. The Polaks’ work also restores to memory a number of overlooked activists and allies of the Katyn cause in exile, thereby broadening the panorama of individuals and communities engaged in the struggle for commemoration.

Today, the Katyn Memorial in London serves not only as a monument to the victims but also as a symbolic space for reflecting on the role of historical truth in international relations and collective memory. Regular anniversary ceremonies ‒ attended by embassy representatives, veterans and the families of the murdered officers – attest to the enduring relevance of the memorial. Though born in a climate of political resistance and censorship, the memorial now stands as a lasting testament to the struggle for truth: a struggle that did not end with its unveiling, but continues through culture, education and dialogue.