It is a test of whether we can interpret the law according to its spirit and purpose—not as a set of dead rules used for political convenience.
Poland answered that question clearly: Zhuravlov could not be handed over.
And not because anyone sought a show of defiance, but because behind every legal provision stands a person—with rights, dignity and real security at stake.
In late September, Polish police, acting on a request from Germany’s Karlsruhe court, detained Ukrainian citizen Volodymyr Zhuravlov.
German prosecutors accused him of taking part in the September 2022 explosions that destroyed the Nord Stream 1 and 2 gas pipelines—months after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine began.
Last week, a Warsaw court dismissed the case and released him from custody.
“You are a free man,” the judge said in the courtroom.
Judge Dariusz Łubowski. Photo: PAP/Rafał Guz
From the start, the defense stressed a simple truth often forgotten: the law is not a neutral machine. It exists to protect the vulnerable, to safeguard liberty, and to prevent abuse by the powerful.
When there are serious doubts that a person will receive a fair trial, the country asked to extradite has a duty to pull the brake.
In this case, the defense raised an uncomfortable but crucial point—that Germany could not guarantee impartiality in this specific matter. They cited the absence of certain judicial immunities and systemic factors that could affect independence and objectivity.
This was not an attack on any individual judge, but a recognition of institutional risk. And when a person’s freedom—or life—is at stake, such risks cannot be ignored.
Equally important was the lack of evidence. The Polish court received no materials from Germany that would justify a responsible extradition decision.
Lofty accusations and speculative narratives are not enough; only verifiable facts are. Without them, refusing extradition was not just permissible—it was necessary.
Then comes the geopolitical layer, one many lawyers prefer to avoid. The defense argued, quite plainly, that no Ukrainian citizen should be prosecuted within the European Union for actions directed against Russia.
In the context of the Nord Stream explosions, that argument sounds political—because it is—but it also follows logically from the EU’s declared position on Russia’s war.
You cannot, on the one hand, impose sanctions on Moscow and label the Kremlin a sponsor of terrorism, and on the other hand legitimize a narrative that treats blows against Russian strategic interests as crimes.
That double standard undermines the credibility of the entire system.
Beyond politics, there was a real fear that Germany, after taking custody of Zhuravlov, might quietly transfer him to Russia.
Officially, no one would admit it—but states have ways of “resolving problems.” Such a move would mean not procedural uncertainty, but a near certainty of torture and death.
Poland could not risk that outcome without betraying both its own values and the European human rights conventions it upholds.
In the background of this case looms Nord Stream itself.
For years, Poland and the Baltic states warned that the German-Russian gas pipelines would become tools of blackmail against Central and Eastern Europe—and that once Moscow felt secure in its energy leverage, it would grow more aggressive. History proved those warnings right.
Poland’s foreign minister recently called Nord Stream “a Molotov-Ribbentrop pipeline.”
The tone may be provocative, but the substance is undeniable: Nord Stream was strategically disastrous for Europe’s peace.
Against that backdrop, Germany’s request that Poland extradite a man accused of destroying that very project borders on absurdity.
If the project was a mistake—and it was—punishing those who allegedly helped undo it makes no moral sense.
There is also no ignoring the tone some German leaders have adopted toward Poland in recent years.
Figures such as Angela Merkel and Gerhard Schröder—architects of Germany’s Russia policy—often spoke about Poland with little sense of genuine partnership.
This is not about wounded pride, but about a simple fact: the two countries’ national interests diverged.
The Zhuravlov case will stay with us because it goes to the heart of Europe’s post-2022 transformation.
The illusion that all EU members view security the same way has vanished. They do not—and Poland, alongside its regional allies, has long pointed the right direction.
Now that the bill for past mistakes has come due, Europe has a duty to defend those who stand on the side of freedom—not out of sentiment, but out of reason.
Because the only order that truly protects peace is one in which human rights matter more than the interests of a pipeline.
Sławomir Sieradzki
The author is a senior analyst at public broadcaster Polish Radio.