COMMENTARY: Zelensky Absent at Gdańsk — An Empty Chair That Says Everything About the Kyiv-Warsaw Crisis

Gdańsk, June 25–26, 2026 — a summit with the scent of rupture

The Ukraine Recovery Conference, held in Gdańsk on June 25 and 26, 2026, brought together dozens of allied countries around a common mission: planning and financing the reconstruction of a country still at war. Representatives of the European Union, the von der Leyen Commission, and European governments — all present, all ready to engage. All but one: Volodymyr Zelensky himself.

For the first time since the start of the large-scale war, the Ukrainian president did not lead his own delegation to a summit of this importance. It was Prime Minister Yulia Svyrydenko who represented Kyiv. An unprecedented substitution, laden with meaning, and directly tied to a diplomatic dispute with Poland — the host country — whose reverberations extend far beyond the two capitals involved.

The quarrel that triggered everything — a military unit, a name, and a memory that bleeds

The origin of the crisis is precise and painful. Ukraine named a military unit in honor of a Ukrainian insurgent organization implicated in the killing of Polish civilians during the Second World War — in particular the events in Volhynia (1943–1945), which claimed tens of thousands of Polish civilian lives. For Warsaw, this is a red line. For a Poland that is simultaneously Ukraine's greatest supporter in Eastern Europe and a country bearing deeply wounded historical memory, this gesture was unacceptable.

Poland's reaction was immediate. The government summoned the Ukrainian ambassador. Voices rose in the Sejm. And the atmosphere at the Gdańsk Conference — intended as a moment of solidarity — was poisoned before it even opened by a dispute touching simultaneously on national histories, present-day alliances, and the necessities of reconstruction.

I understand Ukraine's position: in wartime, a country has the right to decide how it honors its fighters. But I also understand Poland's pain: the Volhynia killings are a real, documented, transgenerational wound. This is not a trivial dispute. It is the collision of two national memories finding themselves on either side of a front line no one anticipated.

Warsaw: Ukraine's primary logistics supporter in Europe

To grasp the scale of the problem this crisis represents, one must recall what Poland means for Ukraine since 2022. It is the primary weapons transit corridor to the front. It hosts more than a million Ukrainian refugees. It was among the first to call for harsh sanctions against Russia and to deliver military equipment. The Kyiv-Warsaw relationship is not merely diplomatic — it is operational, daily, vital.

And that is precisely why this dispute is so dangerous. When Zelensky decides not to go to Gdańsk, he is not simply missing a conference. He is weakening the logistical and political backbone of his European support. He is handing Putin an involuntary diplomatic gift: proof that Ukraine's allies are not a uniform bloc, that fractures exist, that transatlantic solidarity has fault lines.

What Svyrydenko could — and could not — accomplish in Zelensky's place

Prime Minister Yulia Svyrydenko is a competent technocrat, respected for her economic management under crisis conditions. But she is not Zelensky. At this kind of summit, the head of state's presence is not a formality — it is a political signal. When Zelensky is at Évian for the G7, he changes the tone of the global conversation. When he is absent from Gdańsk, his absence speaks as loudly as his presence would have.

The European Commission, the EU, and allied countries reaffirmed their commitments in favor of Ukraine's defense, reconstruction, and integration at Gdańsk. President von der Leyen underscored European support. But without Zelensky, the political tone of the conference was different. Less urgent. Less visceral. Less Ukrainian. And in a war where narratives matter, that difference is not negligible.

Svyrydenko did her job, I'm sure of it. But a conference on rebuilding a country at war without the presence of its leader — it is like holding an awards ceremony without the featured artist. Something essential is missing from the room. And everyone knows it.

A bloody history that neither time nor war can erase

The Volhynia mass killings of 1943–1945 constitute one of the most painful episodes in Polish-Ukrainian relations. The Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA) and its affiliates killed between 50,000 and 100,000 Polish civilians in the Volhynia and eastern Galicia regions, then under Nazi occupation, with the aim of ethnically cleansing those territories for future Ukrainian borders. Polish historians speak of organized ethnic cleansing. Ukrainian historians speak of a complex armed conflict in a context of total war. Both sides have their arguments. And both sides have their dead.

Naming a Ukrainian military unit in honor of figures linked to these events amounts, for many Poles, to honoring those who killed their ancestors. This is not an abstract question of symbolism. It is an intergenerational wound that still bleeds in Polish families from the country's east. And when this wound is reopened in wartime, while Poland is playing the role of Ukraine's key ally, the shock carries a particular brutality.

The context: why Kyiv acted this way, and why it is a problem

It would be simplistic to condemn Ukraine without understanding its context. In total war, nationalisms intensify, historical resistance figures are celebrated, sometimes without regard for outside sensitivities. The UPA, in Ukrainian memory, represents armed resistance to Soviet occupation — an aspect of its legacy that many Ukrainians prioritize over the darker dimensions of its history. That is not a falsification — it is an angle of national memory, partial as it may be.

But governing in wartime also means managing your alliances. And when one of your most important allies tells you that this gesture is unacceptable to it — not for political reasons but for reasons of deep national memory — there is a responsibility to hear that signal. Naming this unit was perhaps not a deliberate gesture against Poland. But it wounded Poland. And in a war where alliances are lifelines, wounding an ally costs more than any military strategist anticipates.

I am not saying Ukraine is wrong to celebrate its historical resistance. I am saying there is a difference between honoring resistance and ignoring the victims. Poland lost tens of thousands of civilians. That fact does not disappear because it is 2026 and Russia is bombing. Historical memory has no expiration date.

The ambassador summoned, the summit poisoned

Poland's reaction to the naming of the military unit was immediate and formal: summoning the Ukrainian ambassador, public government statements, mounting critical voices in the Sejm. The atmosphere at Gdańsk was marked from the outset by this tension. European delegates attempted to stay focused on the primary objective — Ukraine's reconstruction — but it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room.

Beyond the symbolism, practical questions arise. Will Poland maintain the pace of its logistical support to Ukraine? Will weapons deliveries through the Polish corridor be affected? These questions are hypothetical for now — there is no indication that Warsaw is considering reducing its aid. But the mere fact that they are being asked is enough to create a strategic uncertainty that Kyiv cannot afford.

The signal sent to other allies — and to Moscow

Every crack in Ukraine's support coalition is watched with interest by Moscow. Russian propaganda seized the opportunity immediately: Russian state media covered Zelensky's absence from Gdańsk extensively, presenting it as proof of Kyiv's growing isolation and its allies' fatigue. That is a false reading — but it is a reading that circulates, and that can influence publics worn out by four years of war.

For Ukraine's other allies, this dispute also sends a signal: historical memory questions can create unforeseen diplomatic crises even within the most solid alliances. That does not make these questions less legitimate — it underscores that wartime diplomacy must incorporate active management of bilateral relations, including on the sensitive terrain of national history.

Putin did not need to do much that week. Zelensky's absence from Gdańsk, the Polish-Ukrainian dispute, the Russian state media coverage — his diplomatic gift was delivered free of charge. This is not a reproach toward Ukraine, which is fighting for its survival. It is a reminder that in a total war, every administrative decision carries geopolitical weight.

Concrete commitments despite the turbulence

Despite the underlying tension, the Gdańsk Conference produced concrete results. The European Union reaffirmed its support for Ukraine's defense, reconstruction, and EU integration. The European Commission announced additional measures to accelerate the accession process and strengthen Ukraine's wartime economic framework. Sectoral reconstruction commitments were made by multiple member states.

The EU presidency also recalled that the conference was situated within the Ukraine-Moldova cluster framework, opened at the G7 Évian summit just days earlier. That framework creates an integrated European support mechanism that goes beyond annual conferences to become a continuous process of institutional reconstruction. In that sense, Gdańsk was not a failure — but Zelensky's absence tarnished its political meaning.

What Kyiv must now do to repair the relationship

The question that arises after Gdańsk is no longer just "what happened?" — it is "how to repair?" Polish-Ukrainian relations have overcome crises before this one. They can survive this one too. But that requires a concrete gesture from Kyiv: not a total retraction on the national memory question, but a recognition of Polish pain, a direct dialogue, a formula that allows both countries to coexist with their memories without permanently wounding each other.

Zelensky is a political strategist. He knows what Poland represents for Ukraine. It is likely that diplomatic contacts took place behind the scenes to begin de-escalation. The next reconstruction conference — scheduled for 2027 on established cycles — will be a barometer of the relationship's health. Until then, bilateral diplomacy must work tirelessly. Ukraine cannot afford to lose Poland. And Poland cannot afford to lose a sovereign Ukraine on its borders.

I do not know all the details of the negotiations currently underway. I do not know what was said between the two chancelleries after Gdańsk. But I know this: when two vital allies wound each other over a memory question, the answer is not silence — it is the difficult, painful, and necessary dialogue. And I hope that dialogue is happening right now.

The strength of the Polish-Ukrainian relationship exceeds this crisis

Zelensky was absent from Gdańsk. That is a fact. That is a first. It is a serious diplomatic signal. But that fact does not define the entirety of the Polish-Ukrainian relationship — a relationship built on convergent strategic interests, shared geography, and a common enemy. Poland knows what it means to live in the shadow of Russian power. It has lived it. It understands it viscerally.

That is why this dispute, as real and painful as it is, must not become a divorce. Both countries have too much to lose from each other. Poland needs a sovereign and stable Ukraine on its eastern border. Ukraine needs an engaged Poland, logistically powerful and politically influential within the EU. Their destinies are linked. An empty chair at Gdańsk cannot erase that reality.

What Zelensky's absence revealed — and what must be retained from it

What the Gdańsk Conference revealed, beyond the memory dispute, is the fragility of wartime alliances in the face of historical friction. International solidarity around Ukraine is real — but it is not unconditional. It demands constant, attentive, and humble diplomacy from Kyiv. A diplomacy that recognizes that its allies also have their own histories, their own wounds, their own red lines.

Zelensky is an exceptional wartime leader. But even the best leaders make diplomatic errors. What matters is correcting them quickly, before they become irreparable fractures. An empty chair at Gdańsk can still be filled — at the next conference, in a reconciliation speech, during an official visit to Warsaw. It is not too late. But waiting is not an option.

I look at that empty chair at Gdańsk and I think about everything Ukraine and Poland have built together since 2022. The weapons corridors. The welcome of refugees. The solidarity of neighbors. None of that disappears in one dispute. But all of it deserves to be protected — by both sides, with the same generosity Poland has shown since the beginning of the invasion.

The diplomacy of historical memories — a permanently mined field

The Polish-Ukrainian crisis of June 2026 illustrates a challenge that many leaders underestimate: managing conflicting historical memories within a wartime alliance. Between Ukraine and its European allies, national histories are often complex — sometimes beautiful, sometimes tragic, sometimes both at once. Poland and Ukraine share a history of common resistance, but also a history of common violence.

Navigating this mined field requires more than goodwill. It requires specific diplomatic protocols, direct communication channels between national memory services, and a culture of anticipation that identifies potentially wounding decisions before they are made. This silent, invisible work is as important as military work. Wars are also won in the space of alliances.

A lesson for all nations engaged in prolonged conflicts

Beyond the Polish-Ukrainian case, the Gdańsk Conference offers a lesson for any nation engaged in a prolonged conflict: alliances are living constructions, not permanent acquisitions. They require continuous attention, honest communication, and the capacity to absorb friction without letting it become rupture. Ukraine, which has demonstrated extraordinary military and diplomatic resilience since 2022, now has the opportunity to demonstrate that it can also manage memorial complexity without wounding its allies.

This is a difficult test. But it is also the mark of great nations: those that know how to acknowledge their errors, engage in dialogue with those they have wounded, and build lasting alliances on the basis of mutual honesty rather than a facade of solidarity. Ukraine can do it. It has the capacity. The question is whether it has the political will in a moment when its very survival is at stake. The answer to that question will say a great deal about the maturity of its diplomacy.

This crisis is recoverable and must be. I genuinely believe that. The Polish-Ukrainian relationship is too deep, too structural, too vital for both countries to be destroyed by a dispute over a military unit name. But "recoverable" does not mean "effortless." It takes work. It takes sincerity. And it requires Zelensky to understand that Gdańsk was not just a missed conference — it was an alarm signal.

What Kyiv must concretely do to restore trust

A diplomatic crisis between allies is not resolved through generous statements posted on social media. It is resolved through direct contacts, concrete gestures, and sometimes an explicit acknowledgment of what wounded the other side. Ukraine has several options: publicly taking note of Polish sensitivity on the question of Volhynia, proposing a shared historical dialogue framework, or simply arranging Zelensky's official visit to Warsaw to reaffirm the bilateral relationship.

For its part, Poland has an interest in keeping the dialogue with Kyiv open and constructive. Defending its memorial interests is legitimate. But that must not translate into political pressure that would weaken Polish support for the Ukrainian war effort. Warsaw knows better than anyone what it means to live on the border of an imperial Russia. That knowledge should guide its response.

Poland still held the conference — a gesture that deserves recognition

It would be unfair to reduce the 2026 Gdańsk Ukraine Recovery Conference to Zelensky's absence. Substantial commitments were made. The European Union strengthened its framework for supporting Ukraine's reconstruction. Programs of economic recovery and progressive integration into European structures were advanced. These commitments carry real value, independent of the diplomatic turbulence on the surface.

Poland itself played an active role in those discussions. Its participation in the conference — despite the bilateral crisis — demonstrates that Warsaw maintains the separation between its memorial grievances and its strategic obligations toward Ukraine. That is a capital distinction. And it is precisely that capacity which differentiates solid allies from partners who negotiate their support according to their mood of the moment.

Poland still held the conference. In anger, it kept its commitments. That is strategic leadership that deserves to be recognized. And Zelensky should acknowledge it explicitly — not in a tweet, but in an official statement, in Warsaw, in person.

The empty chair as an invitation to dialogue

An empty chair can be read as an insult. It can also be read as an invitation. Zelensky sent his Prime Minister, his teams, his commitments. He said, without saying it explicitly: "I cannot be there physically, but Ukraine is present." That is insufficient on the symbolic level. But it may be the beginning of a more nuanced message: the implicit acknowledgment that something must be repaired between Kyiv and Warsaw.

Both countries must find space to speak about their memories — together, without one crushing the other, without one denying what the other experienced. That is not simple. It is not fast. But it is possible and necessary. Polish-Ukrainian history is rich enough, complex enough, and deep enough to contain both Ukrainian national resistance and the mourning of Polish victims. These two realities need not destroy each other.

What Gdańsk 2026 should leave as its legacy

When historians analyze this period, they will note that the June 2026 Gdańsk Conference took place during a war, in a context of acute memorial dispute, with an empty chair where the Ukrainian leader should have sat. But they will also note — if things go well — that this conference served as a useful alarm signal. That the crisis was managed, that dialogue was reopened, that both nations chose their alliance over their mutual resentment.

Ukraine is rebuilding its cities under bombs. It can also rebuild its alliances in the diplomatic storm. That is another form of resilience — less visible than air defenses, less spectacular than drone strikes. But just as crucial to the survival of a country that needs, to win this war, to remain surrounded by friends rather than managing frictions that accumulate in silence.

I end this commentary with an image: Zelensky absent, a Prime Minister valiantly representing her country, and a room full of allies who all know something has cracked. This image must not become a painting. It must become a reminder — proof that even the strongest alliances need to be maintained, repaired, and nourished. Ukraine deserves that. So does Poland.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

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