The Nearest Other: Why Polish Hatred Does Not Target Russians

The Polish-Ukrainian crisis of June 2026 – the stripping of the Order of the White Eagle from President Zelenskyy, the dispute over naming a Ukrainian Armed Forces unit after UPA heroes, and the tension surrounding the exhumation process – looks like a sudden explosion of accumulated tension. But explosions, as a rule, are rarely sudden: they are delayed.

In this article, we offer not a chronicle of the conflict, but an analysis of its architecture: why Polish resentment chooses Ukraine as its object, rather than Russia, and why this logic is reaching a critical point precisely now.

The Proximal Object of Hatred

In psychological and sociological literature, there is a well-documented phenomenon: aggression is most often directed not against the real source of a threat, but against the closest available "other." Russia is distant, nuclear-armed, and, most importantly, inaccessible in a daily sense; Russians do not live by the millions in Polish cities, do not compete on the Polish labor market, do not take up spots in lines at clinics, and do not fill Polish schools with their children. Ukrainians do.

This does not mean that Polish society is irrational. It means that it, like any other, is subject to patterns where the visibility of a threat is often more important than its actual scale. A significant Ukrainian presence in Poland is a daily, tangible "other." And that is exactly why, when the Polish right-wing populist machine needed an electorally productive enemy, the choice did not fall on Moscow.

But the explanation through proximity would be incomplete without taking into account a deeper structural factor – one that shapes the very matrix of Polish society's perception of Ukraine and Ukrainians. This factor is the prolonged asymmetry in Polish-Ukrainian relations, which has its roots in eras when both nations either resided within one state or existed in the relationship of a titular nation and a subjugated population. 

This asymmetry did not disappear with the redrawing of those states' borders: it has been reproduced in mindsets, cultural reflexes, and the way a portion of Polish society and Polish political forces still position themselves toward Ukraine – not as equals, but as an older brother to a younger one who can be lectured.

The Imperial Matrix

The approach of a significant part of Polish political forces to Ukraine is most accurately described as paternalistic, with distinct features of a former metropolis. Poland – a state that in different historical eras exercised political and cultural control over lands that are now part of Ukraine – has preserved in its mass consciousness a certain sense of primacy. It does not necessarily manifest in open territorial claims; more often, it is reproduced through the very logic of demands: Poland knows who the "real" hero is and who the criminal is; Poland knows which figures the Ukrainian side should honor and which it should forget.

It is this matrix that makes the demands regarding UPA heroes understandable. In the Polish right-wing tradition, the question of the status of UPA commanders in Ukrainian memory is not viewed as an internal affair of another state independently shaping its own national myth. It is viewed as an issue where Poland has a moral and even quasi-legal right to a voice – because, in the Polish perspective, the "younger brother" is obliged to take the older brother's assessments into account. The fact that these figures hold a different place in Ukrainian historical memory – and have their own, no less justified reasons for it – is either ignored or treated with condescension.

This logic is not a monopoly of the far right. It is present in various forms across broader strata of Polish society and a part of the expert community. Nawrocki and PiS (Law and Justice) did not invent it – rather, they learned to use it effectively.

What Stands Between the Two Countries: Not Just Volyn

The Polish-Ukrainian partnership after 2022 reached an unprecedented scale. Polish military support included the transfer of artillery systems, ammunition, armored vehicles, and personnel training. Poland functioned as one of the largest transit hubs for weapons from NATO and EU allies. Concurrently, deep economic integration continued: according to various estimates, Ukrainian migrants and entrepreneurs generated about 330 billion PLN for the Polish GDP, providing roughly 2.7% of the country's economic growth. Polish business actively positions itself as a key partner in post-war reconstruction.

This context is important not to help Kyiv present a bill, but to understand the scale of the paradox: under the conditions of prolonged Russian aggression, both countries have far more reasons for cooperation than for conflict. Representatives of Polish business have also called for a pragmatic dialogue, realizing that tension in relations destroys not only diplomatic but also economic capital. Yet, against this very backdrop, the conflict not only persists but deepens.

This is the key to understanding its nature: the crisis unfolded not in spite of existing interests, but parallel to them, which indicates its predominantly instrumental nature.

Nawrocki as a Broadcaster

Karol Nawrocki is not a spontaneous phenomenon in Polish politics. His career serves as a roadmap of Polish right-wing historical policy over the last decade.

• Since 2009, Nawrocki worked at the Institute of National Remembrance (IPN), where he directly dealt with the topic of the Volyn tragedy (the events of 1943–1945, in which thousands of Poles and Ukrainians died).
• In parallel, PiS began a systemic construction of a populist narrative around these events – not so much to establish historical facts as for electoral mobilization.
• As the director of the Museum of the Second World War in Gdańsk, and later (since 2021) as the director of the IPN itself, Nawrocki found himself at the center of this process.

The Volyn tragedy gradually transformed into the central hub of Polish identity politics, convenient for mobilization precisely because it allowed combining genuine societal trauma with a paternalistic claim – the right to dictate to Ukraine how to properly read shared history.

This configuration proved effective for PiS over several electoral cycles. But it also created a problem: the more the party invested in this narrative, the more it depended on maintaining it – regardless of what reality demonstrated.

Exhumation as a Methodological Boomerang

One of the main instruments of Polish pressure was the demand to exhume the victims of the Volyn tragedy. Warsaw had long insisted that the lack of large-scale excavations was evidence of a desire to hide the true scale of the crimes. Kyiv's position was that the exhumations should take place within the framework of a joint bilateral mechanism – and not in a format where the results would inevitably become a tool for domestic political manipulation.

Eventually, starting in 2025, the relevant permits were granted. The initial results were unexpected – primarily for the initiators of the process. In September 2025,  a burial of 42 victims was found in the village of Sadove, Ternopil region. In April 2026, isolated burials were found in the villages of Volia and Ostrivky. And in March 2026, in the village of Uhly in Volyn – in places where the Polish side claimed there were "thousands of burials" – no remains of tragedy victims were found.

This points to a methodological gap between what was claimed and what was discovered. A narrative built over years through institutional efforts collided with reality, documented directly on-site by independent observers. It is at this exact moment that the logic of artificial escalation triggers: a loud diplomatic crisis allows this inconvenient process to be shifted into a "freeze due to strained relations" mode, pushing it to the periphery of public attention.

‍The Order as a Trap

Nawrocki's decision to strip President Zelenskyy of the Order of the White Eagle after a three-week pause does not look impulsive; quite the opposite, it seems like a calculated move to escalate a "long-standing" domestic political confrontation.

It can be strongly argued that structurally, this looked like an attempt to put Prime Minister Tusk in an impossible position: sign the decree revoking the award – and seriously complicate his own standing among European leaders – or refuse to sign, allowing PiS to exploit the narrative of "Tusk siding with the Ukrainians." PiS tested this same scheme during past elections, where Tusk was portrayed as "Berlin's puppet" – without much success, but with a certain electoral effect.

Zelenskyy mailed the order back before the threat could be realized, pulling the rug out from under the trap: Tusk did not end up in either of the envisioned scenarios. Nawrocki got a diplomatic incident, but without the expected domestic political payoff, and the reaction of Polish society proved heterogeneous: some Polish commentators and business representatives responded with obvious dismay.

A Crisis – Who Needs It?

1. Freezing the exhumations: the diplomatic crisis effectively shifts the exhumation process from an "inconvenient results" mode to a "frozen" mode. As long as mutual accusations and grand gestures continue, the methodological questions raised by the excavations remain sidelined.
2. A diversionary tactic: the external conflict functions as a distraction from a series of internal scandals involving Nawrocki himself – ranging from widely discussed media trivia to transparency issues regarding real estate and attempts to manipulate the Prime Minister's position.
3. Electoral fuel: structurally most important, the conflict with Ukraine is the resource around which PiS is building its next election campaign. The horizon of the Polish parliamentary (Sejm) elections sets the timeframe for this entire crisis.

Why Ukraine, and Not Russia?

Russia has caused Poland significantly greater and incomparably better-documented damage than Ukraine. Katyn, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, decades of Soviet occupation – the list is longer and bloodier than any Polish-Ukrainian dispute. But Russia is not an electorally convenient enemy for the Polish right after 2022: it falls into a nationwide consensus regarding the threat, and PiS holds no monopoly on toughness there.

Ukraine is different in several practical dimensions simultaneously. At the very least, it is nearby: millions of Ukrainians are visible daily in Polish society. The topic of labor market competition, strain on social infrastructure, and cultural differences – all this is part of the daily Polish experience, but is not part of the daily experience with Russia.

Furthermore, returning to the previously described paternalistic matrix: Ukraine is the "familiar other" who can be corrected, lectured, and from whom demands can be made. Not an alien and threatening enemy, but a subordinate who has allowed themselves too much independence.

It is this combination – proximity, visibility, internalized asymmetry, and the asymmetry of wartime vulnerability – that makes Ukraine a much more convenient target for right-wing populist discourse than Russia. This is not an explanation that justifies such logic. It is a description of how it functions.

What's Next?

Polish society and the Polish state are not monolithic. Tusk's government, Polish business, and a significant part of civil society understand the strategic value of the Polish-Ukrainian partnership – and are under pressure to defend this interest despite the domestic political noise. The conference in Gdańsk, which gathered EU leaders and the President of the European Commission, is one of the signals that the diplomatic dimension of relations functions in parallel with the conflicting one.

The exhumation process, regardless of diplomatic fluctuations, will raise the question of the discrepancy between what was claimed and what is being revealed. These questions are addressed primarily to the Polish scientific and political community –  and they will not become less relevant just because attempts are made to drown them out with louder topics.

The deeper challenge remains structural. As long as the "older and younger brother" matrix persists in Polish-Ukrainian relations, any conflict over memory, symbols, or heroes will have a ready-made framework for escalation. Breaking out of this cycle requires not only diplomatic pragmatism but also a willingness on the Polish side to rethink the very logic of the relationship – as one between equal entities, rather than between one who gives orders and one who takes them.

After all, without joint efforts, the existential threat to Eastern Europe, Russian imperialism, will not disappear.