When Russian tanks rolled toward Kyiv, Poland enjoyed a rare moment of geopolitical stardom - unpaid, unsolicited, and frankly, a bit awkward. Ordinary Poles flung open their doors to millions fleeing the conflict, and even the populist Law and Justice party, not exactly known for its humanitarian enthusiasm, had to join the chorus. It seemed Poland and Ukraine were destined for an iron-clad alliance, the kind that makes history textbooks blush.

Poland championed Ukraine's cause in the West with some success, and Ukrainian leaders returned the favor with praise and gratitude, acknowledging Warsaw's weapons and financial contributions. Given that their shared history includes second world war-era genocide accusations, border shifts, and postwar displacements, this was nothing short of miraculous.

But Warsaw failed to anticipate one thing: refugees might actually build new lives, and Kyiv might demand an equal seat at the European table. The initial compassion has curdled into something resembling contempt. The consequences, as Mateusz Mazzini warns in his Guardian piece, could be dramatic. Because nothing says 'iron-clad alliance' like a sudden case of buyer's remorse.