Volodymyr Zelensky, the man who once charmed Western parliaments into parting with their arsenals, now finds himself in a diplomatic dogfight with Poland. The row, which erupted over Ukrainian grain imports and historical grievances, has escalated to the point where Warsaw has summoned its ambassador and muttered darkly about ‘ungratefulness’. This is the unity, the legendary Western alliance that Britain, with its usual blend of pluck and pragmatism, helped construct? It looks rather more like a Punch and Judy show.
Let us be clear: this is not some minor tiff. Poland has been Ukraine’s most stalwart ally, the first to send tanks, the first to take in millions of refugees, the first to argue for NATO membership. And now, Zelensky has managed to alienate them. His government’s decision to drag Poland before the World Trade Organisation over the grain ban, combined with a UN speech that seemed to lump Poland with other, less helpful neighbours, has been a masterclass in diplomatic self-sabotage.
One must ask: what exactly is Kyiv thinking? This is the same Poland that has spent billions arming Ukraine, the same Poland that has absorbed a demographic shock that would have shattered any other EU state. And now, they are being repaid with public complaints and historical quibbles about Volhynia. It is as if a man saved from drowning then berates his rescuer for having a wet sleeve.
The implications for the Western alliance are grave, though not yet mortal. This row exposes the fault lines in the coalition that Britain and the US worked so hard to forge. The alliance against Russia has always been a coalition of the willing, not a monolith. And when the willing start sniping at each other, the whole edifice begins to crack. The Kremlin must be watching this with something approaching joy.
But let us not be too apocalyptic. Historical spats between allies are as old as alliances themselves. Britain and the US had their own moments of friction during the Cold War, from Suez to the cancellation of Skybolt. What matters is how quickly these wounds are healed. And here lies the test for Zelensky. He has been a brilliant war leader, a symbol of defiance. But diplomacy requires a different set of skills: patience, tact, and the ability to say sorry. He must swallow his pride and mend fences with Warsaw. If he cannot do that, what hope is there for the wider peace?
Meanwhile, the West, and especially Britain, must play the role of the wise uncle. Boris Johnson’s government, for all its flaws, understood the importance of personal diplomacy. The current administration, while supportive, could be more proactive in smoothing ruffled feathers. A quiet word here, a joint statement there. This is not the time for the British to be passive; the alliance they helped build is fraying, and it needs repair.
In the end, this row is a signal of something deeper: the strains of a long war. Western publics are growing tired, and their leaders are growing impatient. Ukraine must realise that its allies are not infinite vending machines. And the allies must remember that Ukraine is fighting for its survival. For now, the alliance holds. But cracks are appearing. And when cracks appear in a structure built to withstand a Russian assault, one cannot help but think of the Western Roman Empire facing the Goths. Let us hope this story has a different ending.
