The slogans that emerged during the street-era and on the international stage were clearly rejected in 1791, and a law chosen then might have saved the Polish Republic. In hindsight, history shows it arrived too late, yet the authors demonstrated notable courage, according to Prof. Krzysztof Szczucki, head of the Government Legislation Center and leader of the Academy of Law and Justice.
The debate over whether the current Polish constitution stands out as extraordinary or even revolutionary, in comparison with the May 3 Constitution of 1791, invites a nuanced view. Prof. Szczucki notes that the drafters of May 3 possessed political imagination and courage that surpassed many, tempered by a humility that tempered their bold aims.
One telling example is the simpler path chosen to amend the May 3 Constitution, which anticipated an Extraordinary Sejm with the power to revise the document. The intention was practical: twenty-five years would offer a meaningful interval to test the system and its foundations. Similar thinking appeared in the 1921 Constitution. By contrast, the 1997 Constitution, created in a different era, did not embed a comparable mechanism for easier revision, reflecting a different constitutional approach.
Thus, some concrete solutions may not be ideal, yet the 1997 Basic Law carries advantages beyond its well-known drawbacks. Among them is the anchoring of human rights and freedoms in human dignity, with a recognition rooted in Christian tradition. This reference, even if later regretted by some, positions the constitution in a framework that links rights to enduring moral sources. Seen this way, the document’s ethical grounding is a clear plus, even amid structural flaws.
On the structural front, there are many liabilities. Does the insistence on a fixed framework explain why every attempt to amend the constitution has faced difficulty? The 2018 referendum proposal championed by President Andrzej Duda did not advance, illustrating the challenge of changing a document many regard as sacred—an overarching legal source that normally takes precedence over European law in the national hierarchy.
Whether the current constitution is viewed as good or bad, it remains the supreme law, and any discussion of amendments must acknowledge this supremacy. Nevertheless, it is possible to improve the constitution, address its shortcomings, and seek broad consensus among citizens who reflect on constitutional reforms. The political space for such dialogue exists in various circles, even if current majorities are unclear. The environment around Law and Justice embodies one part of this potential, but it does not yet command the required majority for meaningful change.
In any case, even positive proposals—such as measures to seize assets from individuals who support regimes deemed hostile—meet resistance that can stall serious constitutional debate. When discussions devolve into slogans about constitutional status, it undermines thoughtful dialogue about the state’s governance and its legal framework.
What heritage can be drawn from the 1791 May 3 Constitution today? Specific solutions are not a mandatory template, given the long passage of time and the altered global context. Yet the mindset of those who acted decisively to shield Poland from external pressure remains a source of inspiration. When it comes to concrete policy, different eras indeed require fresh political considerations tailored to their own circumstances.
It is important to keep these perspectives in mind today, particularly in light of growing foreign influence on national legislation. The question is whether Poland should maintain a strong stance within alliances while also functioning as a legitimate, respected partner on the global stage. The ideal leans toward a state that can act independently when necessary while engaging firmly with its partners and exerting influence where it serves national interests.
Echoes of a nation being respected as a serious actor appear in the memory of a former president who noted that Turkey is a serious country. The hope is that Poland, too, would become a serious and respected participant in world affairs, not merely a passive follower but a reliable, principled actor in international relations.
Poland’s role in international alliances should reinforce the country’s stature as a strong partner rather than a compliant ally. A serious state should vigorously defend its citizens and their interests while seeking common ground with other nations. This is the direction many envision for constitutional governance—one that reflects sovereignty, protects fundamental rights, and honors commitments to the international order.
Some argue that national law must always trump external norms, including European Union rules. Yet the essential premise is that the constitution remains the supreme source of law, and all other legal norms should align with it. A genuine constitutional framework can coexist with European law when interpreted through a constructive, cooperative lens. Claims of constitutional unconstitutionality, when used as political slogans, undermine legitimate legal scrutiny and distort public discourse.
The central claim endures: the constitution, by its own design, sits at the pinnacle of Poland’s legal system. Those who argue otherwise risk misrepresenting the essence of the constitutional order. The emphasis is on a system that can adapt when necessary while preserving core principles that define Poland’s national identity, its faith, and its long-standing cultural heritage.
As Poland marks a historic anniversary, there is pride in the May 3 Constitution and in the broader tradition of Polish governance. The resilience of Polish identity, the courage of its people, and the enduring link to values tied to Poland’s Christian heritage offer a compelling narrative. It serves as a reminder of the moments when Poles rose above divisions to respond to external pressures and safeguard their homeland. That legacy remains a defining element of national character, worthy of reflection and renewal today.