Just two weeks ago, Przemyśl was a city like many others in Poland: 60,000 inhabitants, located away from large agglomerations, rich in cultural heritage, poor in industry. But its special feature – the proximity to the Ukraine border – changed the city in one fell swoop. Since the beginning of the war, tens of thousands of people have been crossing the border into Medyka, which is ten kilometers away. The city became a hub for refugees, including those returning home like Alex. The Ukrainian worked in Poland and the Netherlands for a year. Now he’s sitting in a snack bar at the train station, charging his phone for the last, most difficult leg of his journey: to Aleksandria, 200 kilometers south-east of Kyiv. Alex wants to go to his parents, he doesn’t want to fight. “I don’t know what to expect. In any case, I won’t be able to go back, away from the Ukraine,” says Alex. He looks helplessly out of the window.
Hundreds of refugees are moving outside the train station. Women, children and men who come from where Alex now wants to go. Umid is also there, holding his eight-month-old son in his arms. He is one of the few of military age up to 60 who was allowed to flee to Poland. Umid is Uzbek, he has a Ukrainian wife who is pregnant and about to give birth. “Violence breeds more violence, that’s for sure,” says Umid. “We arrived here two days ago and don’t yet know where we can stay permanently.” When he says this, two helpers, a Polish woman and a Lithuanian woman, come and offer the man and his family free accommodation in the 100 km to the west offer the city of Rzeszów. Umid wants to discuss this with his wife. “All this, this war – it could grow into something even bigger. It’s like a proof of sin, it’s time we turned to God.”
Tens of thousands of volunteers help Ukrainian refugees
In Przemyśl there are volunteers in yellow and orange vests who provide information, comfort, distribute food and guide people to the right places. According to recent surveys, more than 90 percent of Poles are in favor of the country taking in refugees from Ukraine. 58 percent would accept everyone without exception, 34 percent at least those who are “most at risk”. In addition to this general willingness, there are probably tens of thousands of people who are also actively involved these days. At the headquarters of the Ukrainian minority in Przemyśl – they are Ukrainians who have lived in Poland for generations – Anna looks after the refugees who have arrived here. The 50-year-old Pole reports that the will to help has gripped many of her compatriots. “The willingness of the people is great. Things are looking worse with state coordination.”
In doing so, she confirms what does not bode well for the near, dramatic future. In recent years, the country has made it easier for Ukrainians and other migrant workers from post-Soviet republics such as Belarus and Armenia to enter the country. Earlier this week, the right-wing ruling party Law and Justice (PiS) announced further facilitation of access to the labor market and social benefits for Ukrainian families. With the route via integration into the labor market, however, it conceals the lack of logistical and administrative infrastructure for taking in refugees.
So far, this lack of preparation on the part of state authorities has not only been compensated for by some of the approximately 1.5 million Ukrainians already living in the country who take in fleeing families or acquaintances in Poland. A number of organizations are standing upside down to help – including the Polish Boy Scout Association. Filip is one of those boy scouts. The 19-year-old traveled 300 kilometers from the west of the country to help: “Our organization collects donations all over the country, and some of us just come here.” People like Filip make no distinction between those who arrive – whether they are Ukrainian or other nationality. He is currently helping an Algerian student who had studied in Kyiv. Otherwise, in the excited crowd at the train station, there is no sign of anyone being treated worse.
Ombudsman against racial discrimination at the border
But this is obviously not the case everywhere. In the last few days there have been various reports of racial discrimination at the border. For example, students from African countries who had attended Ukrainian universities reported that they had sometimes been turned away by the Polish border authorities. In the meantime, the ombudsman for civil rights has intervened. Authorities say all refugees coming from Ukraine will be allowed into the country. Some Nigerian students later said that the Ukrainian border guards turned them away, not the Polish ones.
In Przemyśl, Nigerian student Tayo sits exhausted at the edge of the train station. At the border, he was treated no worse than the Ukrainians, he says. “But like many others, I lost almost everything when I fled. We stood at the border for 20 hours and my luggage got lost in the chaos. We can’t go back,” says the 25-year-old. “I do not know what to do.”
There is also a threat of racist violence on the streets in Poland: in Przemyśl, a group of black refugees was attacked by right-wing extremists on Tuesday evening, but the police have not yet caught the perpetrators. And on local Facebook groups, the mood is already being raised: “Have you seen a group of refugees who are not from Ukraine, write to us, post photos, warn others,” says one of the profiles. Even outside of right-wing extremist circles, it could soon happen that non-white refugees, mostly young men, are met with right-wing hate speech in Poland. Especially since Poland’s government and its media recently fueled violent, defamatory propaganda against Muslim and African refugees on the Belarusian border. Today, however, Poland wants to “help all those who have been injured – women, children, everyone,” says Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki.
But what next?
A group of young people are parading through the streets of the center of Przemyśl. They come from a pro-Ukrainian manifestation, one of the guys carries the Ukrainian flag like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “The main motto was, Putin out of Ukraine,” said 16-year-old Tomek. Schools like his are now shelters for refugees from Ukraine who sleep in the school halls. “It’s volunteers who took care of the situation,” says Oksana Osieczko, who runs a café in the city center and took in two Ukrainian women a few days ago. “Our city lives with this huge task, I’m very impressed.” This solidarity, says the woman, is a long-term one. “Because we can help here at the border, companies across the country want to hire Ukrainians, committed people offer temporary accommodation. But how does it continue?”
Osieczko poses the question to which no one currently has an answer. “I only hope,” writes Zuzanna Dąbrowska in the conservative daily Republic“that this empathy enters our national bloodstream in the face of the tragedy, that it never again allows us to be indifferent.”