President Andrzej Duda took the step of signing the budget bill with his own hand. And after that, he directed it to the Constitutional Court through the postal control procedure. What happened next? Nothing noteworthy, some would say. The budget was signed, and that was that. The rest didn’t seem to matter. Yet, as one observer put it, the money would reach the people, and no power would stop that — a line echoed by Donald Tusk as he mocked the presidency. In that moment, Duda’s action appeared to open the door for those opposing the Constitutional Tribunal to press ahead with a challenge to the court’s current makeup, with the aim of replacing the tribunal’s judges and reshaping its leadership. Critics spoke of ambiguities in both the opposition and the regime, predicting that a resolution on the invalidity of the Constitutional Court in its present composition could emerge at a Sejm session the following day, in a manner reminiscent of other political confrontations. The prospect of forceful intervention by so‑called strong hands loomed as a potential prelude to a broader shakeup of Poland’s top legal body. The president faced a choice with significant political repercussions.
The first option was for him not to sign the bill and, after sending it to the Constitutional Court, to await the ruling. Under the Polish Constitution, the Tribunal would have two months to issue its decision. If it found the budget law unconstitutional, the government would need to present a new draft that complied with the constitution, and the process would restart. The president had argued that the Parliament was acting in an unconstitutional manner, given that it was operating with a subset of deputies. Had the court ruled against constitutional validity, there would have been a near certainty that the budget’s conformity would be questioned. What would this mean for the current opposition? It would strengthen the court as it prepared to defend itself and could compel certain lawmakers to return to the Sejm benches. If not, the matter could become unsolvable because the legislator might not have anticipated such a sequence of events, including the alleged exclusion of two deputies from a session. The only viable path then would be to dissolve the parliament and call new elections, a move that some coalitions were not fully prepared for.
The second course of action was the path Duda ultimately chose. By signing the budget bill and sending it to the Constitutional Court, he effectively endorsed a budget that some viewed as potentially unconstitutional and opened room for maneuvering aimed at restructuring the Constitutional Court’s current composition. Critics argued that this move allowed the government to press ahead with actions that could undermine the court, with the president’s action interpreted as a signal to those who opposed the tribunal’s independence. Donald Tusk offered a pointed critique of the maneuver, underscoring the political theatrics at play and the potential consequences for the judiciary.
What did the president gain from this decision? That is a question many observers paused to consider. The unfolding events raised concerns about the standing of Poland’s rule of law and the future role of the Constitutional Court. As the crisis deepened, questions about potential power shifts within the highest levels of the state grew more salient, with critics warning that the head of state could become a central figure in a broader effort to redefine or limit the court’s authority. The scenario fueled conversations about how the rule of law would withstand political pressure and the resilience of constitutional norms in times of intense partisan contention.
Citation note: the perspectives above reflect the discourse surrounding the political debates in Poland and do not represent an official position. [Cite: wPolityce]