Poland, Ukraine caught in a spiral of memory politics [OPINION]

The days leading up to this week's Ukraine Recovery Conference in the Polish Baltic city of Gdańsk were marked by tense speculation over whether Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky would attend the major international gathering on Ukraine's reconstruction.

Polish President Karol Nawrocki (right) and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky (left) shake hands during a meeting in Warsaw on December 19, 2025.

Photo: PAP/Paweł Supernak

On Tuesday, however, it became clear that Ukraine would instead be represented by Prime Minister Yulia Svyrydenko.

Kyiv's decision to send a lower-ranking delegation to the conference, which runs on Thursday and Friday, came despite growing calls in both Poland and Ukraine for de-escalation.

Prominent figures in the Ukrainian opposition, parts of the media community, and business leaders on both sides of the border urged restraint and a focus on practical cooperation.

Yet the underlying dispute remained unresolved, and Zelensky's decision not to attend personally—sending the country's third-ranking official instead—marks another stage in the escalation.

The uncertainty surrounding Zelensky's participation stemmed from a deepening Polish-Ukrainian dispute triggered by his May 26 decree naming a Ukrainian military unit after the "Heroes of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army" (UPA).

In my view, this was a poorly considered decision that failed to take Polish historical sensitivities into account and was driven primarily by short-term domestic political considerations. It was bound to provoke a response from Warsaw.

The Ukrainian president appears not to have anticipated the scale of the backlash his decision would generate in Poland, including the subsequent move by Polish President Karol Nawrocki to revoke the Order of the White Eagle awarded to Zelensky in 2023.

Yet the equally strong, emotional and widespread reaction in Ukraine produced a classic "rally-around-the-flag" effect, comparable to the surge in support Zelensky received after his confrontation with Donald Trump in the Oval Office—and particularly useful against the backdrop of domestic corruption scandals.

Under such circumstances, backing down became politically unattractive.

Revoking the decree would likely have been interpreted in Ukraine as weakness: a loss of face, capitulation to external pressure, and acceptance of foreign influence over Ukrainian historical memory.

After more than five years of war and successful resistance to pressure from both Russia and, at times, the United States, Polish objections are viewed in Kyiv as a relatively minor problem.

The result is a political impasse. Both sides have dug in behind positions supported by the dominant emotions within their respective societies.

This is not the first time Polish-Ukrainian relations have become trapped in disputes over historical memory, but the intensity of emotions—and the broader context—are exceptional.

Russia's war against Ukraine has strengthened Ukrainian society's determination to assert its own historical narrative. It has also intensified the search for historical figures who can serve as symbols of resistance against Russia.

This process began after Russia's 2014 aggression against Ukraine, when decommunization efforts led to streets named after Stepan Bandera and Roman Shukhevych appearing far beyond western Ukraine.

References to the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) and the UPA became increasingly widespread, symbolizing resistance to Russia while simultaneously pushing into the background the crimes committed in 1943 and 1944 against Poles in the Volhynia and eastern Galicia regions of what was then German-occupied Poland.

Polish sensitivities—and disputes arising from them—came to be viewed as an unfortunate but necessary cost in pursuit of a larger national cause.

This development has been poorly received in Poland. Public anger did not emerge in a vacuum.

The fear and empathy that characterized the first months of the war have largely faded. Ukraine survived, Russian forces became bogged down hundreds of kilometers from the Polish border—thanks in no small part to Polish assistance—and Poles gradually shifted their perspective on their eastern neighbor.

Many Poles came to see Ukrainians less as victims of Russian aggression and more as refugees successfully rebuilding their lives in Polish cities.

The dominant sentiment increasingly became one of perceived "Ukrainian ingratitude"—a belief that Poland's extensive support had been repaid with ostentatious disregard for Polish historical concerns.

Kyiv, for its part, made little effort to address these feelings seriously or to acknowledge Poland's contribution to Ukraine's resistance against Russia.

Nor has it developed a sophisticated understanding of its largest western neighbor—a key EU member state that serves as Ukraine's strategic logistical hub in the war effort.

This distorted perspective and a series of policy mistakes toward Warsaw gradually exhausted Polish patience. Increasingly, Poles rejected the argument that historical disputes should simply be postponed until after the war.

From the Polish perspective, the situation has steadily worsened over the past 35 years. Ukraine has not only failed to undertake a broader reckoning with the crimes committed by the UPA against Poles, Jews and Ukrainians who cooperated with Poles, but the glorification of nationalist figures has expanded geographically and become increasingly embedded in official state policy.

The dispute over the legacy of the UPA is likely to remain a feature of Polish-Ukrainian relations for years to come. Unless addressed, it will continue to generate strong emotions and provide politicians on both sides with a convenient tool for political mobilization.

It also creates fertile ground for Russian information operations and specialists in information warfare.

One encouraging development is the progress being made on historical exhumations. At least for now, these efforts appear to be proceeding according to plan.

The first phase of work at Huta Pieniacka was completed several days ago, while a second stage has begun in Puźniki. That offers at least some grounds for optimism about the future.

Tadeusz Iwański

Tadeusz Iwański

The author is head of the Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova department at the Warsaw-based Centre for Eastern Studies (OSW). From 2006 to 2011, he worked at Polskie Radio dla Zagranicy, the Polish public broadcaster's international service.

Disclaimer: The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of public broadcaster Polish Radio.