Along Ukraine's front line, the demand for drones and anti-drone camouflage netting remains relentless. But in Warsaw, a group of Ukrainian volunteers who produce them say growing war fatigue is making it harder to sustain their efforts.
More than four years after Russia's full-scale invasion, the association Courage Knows No Borders (Odwaga Nie Zna Granic) is being forced to do more with less. “The need for nets is huge, we have waiting lists, even though they are woven in Ukraine too,” Ruslana Poplawska, one of the coordinators, told AFP.
The group gathers every Saturday near the Russian embassy in Warsaw to weave nets and assemble FPV drones. Volunteers stand in a line, pushing strings of dark green fabric through a large mesh grid. A signed flag from a Ukrainian battalion they supplied hangs on the wall.
Growing Fatigue and Shrinking Support
Since February 2023, the Warsaw group has produced some 35,000 square metres of camouflage netting — equivalent to five football pitches. But lately, they have been struggling. “Volunteering has become more complicated. Many people have stopped. Donations are harder to find, and there is fatigue,” said Poplawska. “At the start of the full-scale invasion, many Poles came to help us. Unfortunately, now, they're almost all gone.”
The difficulties come amid an uptick in anti-Ukrainian sentiment in Poland. A December survey by CBOS, an independent Polish research centre, found that 48% of Poles support accepting Ukrainian refugees — the lowest level since the war began. Half said the level of aid provided to them was excessive. At the start of the war, Poland opened its doors to people fleeing the Russian invasion and still hosts around 1 million refugees, the second most in Europe.
The 2025 presidential election, won by nationalist Karol Nawrocki, saw a surge in anti-Ukrainian messaging. Tensions between Warsaw and Kyiv also erupted in June over World War II history. New Polish transport rules, introduced in March, make it harder to get humanitarian aid into Ukraine. Every truck now faces cumbersome bureaucracy, prompting more and more carriers to cancel trips — including the one used by the Warsaw group.
Determination Amid Adversity
The 30-odd core volunteers are determined to carry on. Olga, from Kremenchuk in central Ukraine, works as a hairdresser six days a week, devoting her only day off to the effort. She braids nets and also cuts Ukrainians' hair for free, asking that the money be donated to the association. “Fatigue? Our guys over there are even more tired, but they're holding the front line. When you think about that, you come here and you work,” she said.
The association, whose logo shows a butterfly against a camouflaged shield, “is real psychotherapy,” coordinator Natalia Kulbatska said. “Here, nobody feels alone,” added Tetiana, a retiree from Sloviansk in the east, a city that has seen more than a decade of intense fighting. Living by herself in Warsaw, she calls the group “a little Ukraine in the heart of Poland.”
Gathered round a table cluttered with metal frames, electronic components and cups of tea, about 10 men, women and children were busy on different tasks: assembling drones. “Drones are constantly needed,” said Wladyslaw Jentz, organiser of a project that has trained nearly 40 people to build them. His hands steady, he delicately slid small components together. In handwritten Ukrainian, a message is scorched onto one part: “Not for sale.”
The group has put together about 100 drones so far — barely a scratch in the thousands used across the sprawling front line every day. “This is my safety and that of my children,” said the father of three, who has lived in Poland for 15 years. “If Ukraine doesn't hold out, it will have consequences here.” Nevertheless, a humanist at heart, he struggles with the idea of building devices meant to kill people.
For more on the broader context, read our coverage of the Nawrocki summit with Baltic and Romanian presidents and the Ukraine Recovery Conference in Gdańsk.
