Executive Summary
As Poland prepares for the possibility of a wider war, a deeper and more unsettling question emerges: what if the greatest threat is not only Russia’s military advance, but the political alliances it is quietly building across Europe?
This article explores how history may be repeating itself—from the partitions of Poland to the collapse of interwar Europe—and warns that today’s assumptions about NATO and European unity could prove dangerously misplaced. The piece, by Dr David Bennett, makes the case that the rise of nationalist forces in key countries like France and Germany may fundamentally reshape the continent’s ability to resist Russian influence.
With Ukraine at the centre of this unfolding crisis, it argues for bold, pre-emptive action—including the potential deployment of European troops to western Ukraine—not only to deter further aggression, but to defend the very foundations of European democracy.
If these warnings are ignored, the consequences may not simply echo history—they may recreate it.
It has been said that Poland is militarily preparing for an eventual Russian invasion should Putin succeed in conquering Ukraine. However, the assumption in Warsaw that a Russian-dominated Europe would still be prevented even if all of Ukraine were to fall to Moscow may prove erroneous. This is because the Russian Federation is currently cultivating tactical and strategic alliances in Europe with political parties which, should they come to power, may also seek to revise European borders in ways detrimental to nations such as Poland.
Poland has suffered from partitions before, most notably in 1795 and, most infamously, in 1939. Concerning the 1939 Soviet–Nazi partition, contrary to accepted wisdom, Poland put up effective resistance to the Nazi invasion and might have fought the Third Reich to a stalemate had the Soviet Union not treacherously invaded from the east. Indeed, had the Soviet Union invaded Poland alone in 1939, an argument could be made that Warsaw might have defeated Stalin.
The fundamental reason why the 1939 partition of Poland occurred so rapidly was the strategic alliance between revisionist powers—Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. Today, the spectre of neo-revisionism is again emerging in Europe, with Putin’s Russia cultivating de facto alliances with Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, as well as with hard-right nationalist parties in France and Germany.
Should Russian-backed nationalist forces come to power in France, Germany, or both, Poles would not need to be warned of the dire consequences for their nation. Under such circumstances, Poland would be unable to effectively counter future Russian aggression—regardless of how formidable its armed forces are—due to hostile revisionist alliances being constructed by Moscow.
Assumptions that NATO will automatically come to Poland’s defence may also prove misplaced if far-right nationalist parties gain power in key member states such as France and Germany. The futility of Poland relying on others was tragically illustrated in 1939, and this pattern could yet repeat itself.
It is often overlooked that Poland mobilised its armed forces in March 1936 in preparation to invade Germany following Hitler’s remilitarisation of the Rhineland. Such an invasion did not occur because France declined to support it. With the benefit of hindsight, Poland might have been justified in acting alone against a then comparatively weak Nazi Germany with the objective of facilitating regime change—an outcome that would have benefited not only Poland, but the world.
Today, Poland may again risk the fatal mistake of waiting for others when deciding whether to defensively deploy troops to western Ukraine. Such a deployment could be purely defensive in nature, undertaken in cooperation with—and with the consent of—Kyiv. It would send a powerful signal to Putin that any Russian advance into western Ukraine would be met by fresh Polish forces capable of halting further aggression.
For good measure, France should also be prepared to defensively deploy troops to western Ukraine. This would not only help block a westward Russian advance into Ukraine—and by extension into Europe—but also serve as a public policy initiative to reinforce the beleaguered political centre within France.
It should not be forgotten that since the July 2024 French legislative elections, the extreme right and extreme left together have held a parliamentary majority. This balance has been used by the far-right National Rally (RN) to bring down successive centrist minority governments.
Les Républicains, the modern successor to the Gaullist tradition, have acted honourably in refusing to enter into any alliance with the RN (although, alas, a hard-right breakaway party has chosen to do so). Whatever President Emmanuel Macron’s personal or political failings, Les Républicains have been correct to cooperate with his Renaissance Party and the Democratic Movement (MoDem) of former Prime Minister François Bayrou. This cooperation is both politically and ethically justified, as not only France’s democratic continuity is at stake, but also the survival of a democratic Europe.
The French Socialist Party (PS) can now follow the principled lead of its former rival by leaving the four-party New Popular Front and supporting President Macron. While it was tactically understandable for the PS to join this alliance to prevent an RN majority in 2024, the party’s relatively strong performance in the March 2026 local elections suggests it is now sufficiently robust to return unambiguously to the democratic centre.
Two of the four parties within the New Popular Front—Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s France Unbowed and the French Communist Party (PCF)—raise serious concerns regarding their democratic credentials. While Mélenchon has supported Ukraine, his party’s strident positions on other issues complicate the PS’s continued association. Both the PS and the Greens should consider leaving the alliance and instead entering into a parliamentary and electoral coalition with Renaissance, MoDem, and Les Républicains in the interests of French democracy and European unity. For good measure, the French Radicals—France’s oldest party and a politically moderate party—should also be included in such an expanded alliance.
President Macron should be supported not because he is beyond criticism, but because he is no Paul von Hindenburg—the German president who fatally undermined democracy by appointing Adolf Hitler as Chancellor in January 1933. Yet there are unsettling parallels between contemporary French politics and the final years of the Weimar Republic: a narrowing base for centrist parties, disunity among democratic forces, and a naïve belief that the extreme right can be contained or co-opted.
There also remains the challenge of reclaiming electoral support that has shifted to the RN. One possible response would be for a future French Government of Democratic Consolidation, together with Poland, to deploy troops to western Ukraine to form a defensive barrier against further Russian expansion. Such a policy would undoubtedly be opposed by the RN, thereby exposing its role in facilitating, whether directly or indirectly, a Russian-dominated Europe.
Highlighting Russia’s ambitions may also revive in France the memory of Europe’s darkest chapter—Hitler’s domination between 1940 and 1945—and help erode support for the RN. Although Putin’s imperial ambitions continue to be frustrated by Ukraine’s resistance, his broader strategy remains on track due to Moscow’s effectiveness in manipulating international relations.
Having once been victims of Hitler’s duplicity, France and Poland cannot now allow Ukraine to fall entirely to Putin. To do so would risk history repeating itself.
