Martin K When I first arrived in Poland, I was struck by the orderliness of things, trams that arrived on time, quiet neighborhoods, and a sense of collective duty that felt almost ceremonial. In 2022, as Europe opened its arms to millions fleeing Ukraine, Warsaw became a symbol of compassion. At the central station, I watched volunteers hand out meals, translators working tirelessly, and ordinary families hosting strangers in their spare rooms. It was solidarity in motion: Europe at its moral best.
Three years later, that spirit feels more complicated. Conversations about migration now come with hesitation, softer voices, uncertain pauses, and the occasional complaint about rising costs or cultural change. It is not hostility I notice, but fatigue: the sense that empathy, too, can be exhausted. Poland, like much of Europe, is wrestling with what it means to remain open while feeling stretched by insecurity, inflation, and the pressures of global migration.
A Country Learning to Live with Diversity
Poland has historically been a land of emigration rather than immigration. For decades, its citizens sought work and education abroad, in the UK, Germany, or Norway. Only recently has Poland become a destination. According to the Office for Foreigners, over 1.1 million foreign nationals now reside in the country, with the majority from Ukraine and Belarus, and growing numbers from Asia and Africa. This is a new social terrain.
Public attitudes, as measured by the 2024 CBOS survey, present a complex picture: while majorities of Poles express general support for controlled migration, more than half also say they feel “concerned” about non-European immigration. This tension, between principle and perception, defines Poland’s current migration climate.
Scholars of securitization theory (Buzan, Wæver & de Wilde, 1998) remind us that migration becomes controversial not merely because of numbers, but because of how it is framed. When political discourse links migration to threats, terrorism, unemployment, or cultural dilution, it transforms a social fact into a perceived danger. Poland’s debates mirror this process. Politicians seldom attack migrants directly, yet phrases like “defending borders” or “protecting cultural values” appear frequently in campaigns.
The European Echo
This shift is not uniquely Polish. Across the continent, migration is once again at the center of political contestation. The 2024 European Parliament elections saw far-right and nationalist parties gain momentum in France, the Netherlands, and Germany, reflecting broader anxiety over the European Union’s capacity to manage its borders. The new EU Pact on Migration and Asylum, finalized in 2025, seeks to balance solidarity with deterrence by streamlining deportations and increasing external border controls. Critics see it as a moral retreat; supporters call it pragmatic realism.
Poland’s stance reflects this wider tension: it insists on sovereignty over who enters, yet remains part of a European project committed to human rights and humanitarian obligations. Its policies are neither isolationist nor fully liberal; they are cautious, pragmatic, and responsive to domestic fears that are, in many ways, shared across Europe.
Between Visibility and Vulnerability
For Africans living in Poland, these dynamics are not abstract. They shape everyday life, from renting apartments to renewing visas. Many came legally as students, skilled workers, or family members. Some arrived through EU mobility programs. Yet they remain highly visible minorities in a largely homogenous society. A Nigerian student I met in Warsaw put it simply: “People don’t hate you. They just don’t know what to do with you.” His words capture the paradox of contact theory (Allport, 1954), that prejudice declines when groups interact meaningfully, but misunderstanding grows in its absence. Poland’s African community, still small and scattered, rarely features in public narratives about migration. Their stories are neither heroic nor threatening; they are, more often, invisible.
Instances of discrimination do occur, in workplaces, on public transport, or through bureaucratic rigidity, but they coexist with genuine gestures of warmth and curiosity. It is this duality that defines the African experience in Poland: the coexistence of opportunity and otherness. Social psychologists might call it ambivalent integration; I call it the quiet negotiation of belonging.
The Real African Gaze: Belonging & Ambiguity
For Africans navigating this terrain, the experience sits between gratitude and vigilance. Many see Poland as a land of order, opportunity, and relative stability. At the same time, the whispers of exclusion travel fast through community chats. In this space, diaspora consciousness (Gilroy, 1993) and liminality (Turner, 1969) become helpful theoretical lenses: living between identities, between here and there, and between belonging and exclusion.
One African professional shared:
“When I applied for the temporary residence card, I felt stuck. My life was on hold. I worked, I paid taxes, but I still felt like I was waiting to be accepted.” It is a small feeling, but it is real. The procedural delay becomes not only an administrative issue but also a symbolic one: belonging feels provisional.
When viewed through Johan Galtung’s (1969) notion of structural violence, everyday exclusion may not be visible, yet it restricts life chances. The “hustle” of waiting, uncertainty about renewal, and the anxiety about one’s place can become micro-violence. Still, as peace theorists argue, reconciliation and belonging begin in recognition, the slow work of seeing and being seen (Lederach, 1997). Poland’s experience with diversity is not one of collapse, but of adaptation.
As a scholar observing from inside this evolving landscape, I see a society in the midst of social transition rather than regression. Prejudice exists, but so do gestures of curiosity and welcome. Securitization narratives gain attention, but counter-narratives of coexistence persist in classrooms, churches, and student communities.
Perception, Politics, and the Politics of Perception
Public perception often lags behind demographic reality. While Africa’s presence in Poland remains statistically small, its visibility is amplified through global media narratives linking migration to crisis. When a border standoff occurs, as at the Belarus frontier in 2021–2022, images of African and Middle Eastern migrants in forests circulate widely, shaping fear more than fact.
Here, constructivist theory (Wendt, 1999) offers insight: state behavior is shaped not only by material conditions but also by identities, by how a society imagines “us” and “them.” In much of Europe, racialized perceptions of migration endure even as integration progresses. Poland is not immune; its identity as a culturally cohesive, Catholic, and post-Soviet nation leaves little historical script for multiculturalism. Yet this absence of precedent also offers possibility, a chance to write new narratives of inclusion rather than repeat Western Europe’s cycles of xenophobia and backlash.
A Mirror of Europe’s Anxiety
The growing discomfort with migration across Europe is, at its core, a crisis of self-image. The philosopher Étienne Balibar once described Europe as a “community of borders”, defined by the tension between universal ideals and territorial anxieties. The current wave of anti-immigrant sentiment reveals that the moral geography of Europe remains fragile. Economic uncertainty, technological change, and the lingering scars of war have all made identity politics fertile ground.
Poland’s public debate, once framed around solidarity with Ukrainians, is now shadowed by broader European concerns about integration, welfare, and security. Yet the Polish case also demonstrates a remarkable capacity for adaptation. Civil society initiatives, universities, and local governments continue to support migrant inclusion projects. The tone of public conversation may have hardened, but institutional engagement has quietly expanded.
Reflections from Within
As an African scholar observing from inside this evolving landscape, I see a nation in the midst of social transition rather than regression. Prejudice exists, but so does dialogue. Securitization narratives gain attention, but counter-narratives of coexistence persist, in classrooms, churches, and student communities.
From a peacebuilding perspective (Lederach, 1997), societies under strain often oscillate between openness and closure before finding equilibrium. Poland’s encounter with diversity is no different: it is a process of learning, not rejection. The challenge is to ensure that fear does not eclipse familiarity, which contact becomes community.
The Quiet Future of Belonging
In the end, migration in Poland is not just about borders or policies. It is about perception, how a society sees itself in relation to the world that keeps arriving at its doorstep. Africans in Poland, whether students or professionals, occupy a delicate but vital space in this conversation. They are both participants and mirrors of Poland’s adaptation to global interdependence.
On a cold morning in Warsaw, I once stood near the Vistula River watching families walk their dogs, students cycle to class, and migrants queue for residency permits. It struck me that integration is not a policy to be declared but a rhythm to be lived: one that Poland, like much of Europe, is still learning to master.
The rise of anti-immigrant sentiment should not only be read as rejection, but as a sign of unease, a reminder that societies under transformation need narratives of reassurance as much as they need policies of control. For scholars and citizens alike, the task is to transform fear into familiarity and proximity into partnership.
Because the story of migration, in Poland and beyond, is not a crisis to be solved but a relationship to be understood.
