The decision by the Polish government to strip President Zelensky of Poland’s highest honour is not merely a diplomatic spat. It is a symptom of a deeper intellectual decadence. The dispute revolves around the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA), a World War II-era nationalist formation that fought for Ukrainian independence.
Communists call them Nazi collaborators. Ukrainian nationalists call them freedom fighters. The truth, as always, is messier.
The UPA did collaborate with the Nazis in the early war years, but also fought against them later. They were also responsible for the Volhynia massacre, the ethnic cleansing of Poles in 1943. Polish memory of this event is raw and uncompromising.
Zelensky, in his drive to build a unified national narrative against Russia, has tried to rehabilitate the UPA. This has infuriated Warsaw, who sees this as a whitewashing of genocide. But here is the uncomfortable observation: Poland’s moral high ground is built on a selective memory.
They forget their own role in the interwar period, where Polish rule in Galicia was often oppressive. They forget the pre-war Polish colonization of Ukrainian lands. And they forget that the modern Ukrainian national identity, forged in the crucible of war, is a complex beast.
The stripping of Zelensky’s honour is a piece of political theatre. It is a signal to Kyiv that Poland will not be lectured on history by a generation that has forgotten what it means to fight for survival. Yet, what does this achieve?
It drives a wedge between two nations that need each other against a common enemy. It makes Ukraine’s integration into European structures more fraught. And it plays into the hands of those who wish to see the West divided.
The comparison to the late Roman Empire is apt. We are witnessing the rise of micro-nationalisms, each obsessed with their own victimhood, forgetting the bigger picture of survival. The Poles and Ukrainians are both fighting against Russia, but they are more focused on the ghosts of 1943 than the tank divisions of 2024.
This is the hallmark of a decadent elite: they would rather score points on Twitter than build alliances. The stripping of an honour is a small thing, but it speaks volumes about the state of our intellectual and political discourse. We are more interested in the purity of historical narratives than in the messy business of realpolitik.
And that, dear readers, is how empires fall. Not with a bang, but with a whimper of offended national pride.
