Poland’s 2023 election was noted as a critical turning point. After eight years, the Law and Justice Party (PiS), a coalition led by Donald Tusk gained enough seats to attempt a democratic course correction. For many Poles, and outside watchers, the outcome of this election seemed like a rare reversal in a global environment where classic democratic erosion only casts in one direction. Even so, a primary issue presented itself; reversing years of judicial capture, media manipulation, and partisan transformation requires intense and highly assertive actions. Yet, aggressive action risks mimicking the very same norm-aversion that caused the initial erosion years ago. Now, Poland faces a difficult trail back, and a very visible and public test: whether a democracy can restore its institutional legitimacy without damaging its credibility along the way.

Between the years of 2015 and 2023, PiS slowly but surely restructured the country’s political framework in a way that fits into the classic pattern of stealth authoritarianism. The Constitutional Tribunal was packed in with loyalists by means of irregular and odd appointments. Many judicial bodies were reworked in order to give the executive branch power over the courts. Mass media and public broadcasting were reformed into a pro-government propaganda vehicle, and civil service rules were amended so that former independent positions could be filled in by party loyalists. These moves individually did not amount to any real democratic collapse, but they eroded checks and balances and hollowed out a space for pluralistic discourse. By the time the 2023 election rolled around, many institutions were completely gutted out, even if on paper they were still technically functioning. 

After their success in the recent election, the new coalition entered office with a broad mandate to “restore the rule of law,” but the vague public expectations quickly crossed with the actual legal and political limitations. This became most obvious in the Judiciary. Tusk’s government argues that many of the judges appointed under the PiS administration lack constitutional legitimacy, especially those that were selected by the highly politicized National Council of the Judiciary. However, their critics counter that a mass invalidation of judges risks throwing the courts into legal chaos and might even further undermine the judicial independence that became so volatile. If the government bypasses the normal procedures in order to correct past abuses, it would risk legitimizing the shortcuts the PiS normalized in their term. This balance demonstrates a wider dilemma: how do you rebuild a democracy using tools that don’t themselves violate traditional democratic norms. 

Media reform brings up a similarly delicate situation. This new government has quickly reasserted independence over state broadcasting networks, which for nearly a decade basically served as the PiS communication department. While most Poles welcomed the shift back towards independence, opponents claim the government is using its power to orchestrate an unconstitutional takeover. The actual legal basis for restructuring the media remains at arms, with courts split between if these reforms comply with existing structures in place. Even if the intent is positive, the process itself exposes the government to accusations of selection bias and has the potential to deepen the country’s polarization. This polarization is one of Poland’s most difficult obstacles to get around. The country is divided just on policy disagreements, but on actual conceptions of legitimacy. PiS supporters will often describe the new government’s actions as a “coup by procedure”, claiming that Tusk is undoing the election by dismantling institutions previously held by their own officials. At the same time, the new government frames PiS networks as illegitimate relics of past partisan culture that need to be dismantled and restructured in order to restore stability. The difficulty comes when both sides present themselves as the true defenders of democracy, with institutional repair becoming increasingly retroactive. 

Despite these tensions, Poland luckily has plenty of assets that most cases of reverse-backsliding lack. Poland’s civil society is extremely active and independent, consistently mobilizing towards norms and judicial independence. Courts, even when they’ve been stuck under immense pressure, have not collapsed entirely. Certain chambers continue to issue rulings that prevent the executive from entrenching power. The 2023 election itself highlighted that electoral integrity remains intact and stable, something not available in other cases of advanced erosion like Hungary’s. These strengths make Poland a rare case where democratic restoration is not just a dream, but a genuinely feasible opportunity. Still, feasibility does not guarantee success. The largest long term risk is that institutional repairs become indistinguishable from partisan conflict. If restoring the rule of law is framed as a punishment to the previous administration rather than authentic rebuilding, Poland risks normalizing a cycle where each new government gets to remake the state in their image. That pattern would gradually promote majority domination, the exact dynamic that leads to long-lasting delegitimization.

Ultimately, Poland’s transformation is just as important beyond its own borders. If they can succeed, it becomes a rare instance where democratic erosion is reversible through lawful mechanisms. However, if it fails, it reinforces the trend that once governments are headed down the path towards erosion, future institutions are trapped between ineffective caution and overreach. The stakes are high not only for Poland’s democracy, but for the credibility of future cases of erosion worldwide to follow in their footsteps.