Poland’s Budget Signed by the President—but Its Fate Is Still Uncertain

On January 13, 2026, Poland’s budget act for 2026 reached President Karol Nawrocki after parliament approved the final package of Senate amendments. The government urged a swift signature to close the legislative process. Nawrocki and his team responded by signaling that he was keeping “all options” open—and that he had deep reservations about the budget’s architecture, the deficit, and the trajectory of public debt.

On January 19th, Nawrocki chose a move that defused the immediate tension but kept the strategic confrontation alive: he signed the budget—so it can be implemented in its final parliamentary form—yet also filed an application to the Constitutional Tribunal (Trybunał Konstytucyjny; TK) for ex post (subsequent) review. In his own framing, he acted “to protect the stability of the state” while still “protecting Poland’s future” through constitutional scrutiny. His allies echoed the message: signing prevents the government from claiming the president is “blocking money,” while the referral keeps the legal dispute alive.

This matters because Poland’s budget is the state’s most important annual statute. It sets the financial operating system for the year and, in Poland’s constitutional design, follows a special pathway—one that can rapidly turn fiscal arguments into an institutional test of legitimacy.

A presidential veto—so central in Nawrocki’s recent clashes with the liberal cabinet—cannot be applied to the budget. Once the Marshal of the Sejm submits the act, the president has seven days to sign it. He may, however, apply to the TK before signing; in that ex ante route, the Tribunal must rule within two months.

Nawrocki has not chosen to take it. Had he done so, Poland would likely have operated provisionally on the government’s original draft at the start of 2026, without later parliamentary amendments (including salary rises and investments). There would be no American-style shutdown, but the politics would have been combustible: major institutions would be told to plan on a stopgap version of the budget while the state waited for a constitutional verdict. By signing first and referring later, Nawrocki avoided that hard version of the crisis and ensured the budget entered into force immediately.

What remains at stake is the aftermath. A sharp Tribunal judgment—striking key provisions or, in a maximalist scenario, declaring the act unconstitutional in its entirety—would reignite conflict between the presidency and the prime minister’s cabinet and expose a deeper fracture: whether a government that questions the TK’s legitimacy will accept a ruling touching the state’s fundamental law of the year.

A total invalidation would be unprecedented, but the 2026 budget fight contains real constitutional tripwires:

1) Institutional targeting. Senate amendments cut funding for institutions still associated with the previous conservative camp—most notably the Institute of National Remembrance (IPN), the Constitutional Tribunal itself, and the National Council of the Judiciary (KRS). If cuts are framed as impairing constitutional organs, litigation becomes almost inevitable.

2) Healthcare: the widening gap. In announcing the referral, Nawrocki highlighted healthcare as a flagship failure, citing a 23 billion złoty gap for the national health insurer in 2026. In a system already critically strained by structural underfunding in late 2025, the constitutional argument is straightforward: if budget choices materially worsen access to publicly funded care, the state may be failing its duties.

3) Debt and deficit: the three-fifths line and “creative accounting.” The sharpest hook is Constitution’s Article 216, pt. 5: Poland may not incur debt obligations that would push public debt above three-fifths of annual GDP (as calculated under statute). Nawrocki argues that, using “international standards,” Poland is already crossing that 60% line, masked only by the Minister of Finances’ legal-accounting manoeuvres.

None of this guarantees a “nuclear” ruling. Budget acts are planning instruments, and constitutional courts often tread carefully. The TK itself has stressed it is a “negative legislator”: it can assess constitutionality, not redesign fiscal policy. Still, the mix of institutional cuts, healthcare pressure, and debt-threshold politics offers a plausible map of arguments to strike provisions—and, in an exceptional scenario, to invalidate much more.

There is also a partial precedent. In 2025, outgoing President Andrzej Duda signed the budget but also sent it to the TK for subsequent review. In May 2025, the Tribunal ruled that provisions cutting funding for the TK and the KRS were unconstitutional and indicated that the legislature should correct the unconstitutional state of affairs.

The current majority has not done so, which may encourage the Tribunal to double down”if it sees the 2026 act as repeating the pattern. A stronger judgment would force the governing coalition into a rapid corrective revision of the budget—all under heavy political and financial constraints—and would test an already strained majority (including tensions and infighting inside minor but crucial coalition partner Poland 2050).

Article 225—the constitutional ‘budget clock’ that can allow the president to shorten the Sejm’s term—no longer hangs over this cycle, because the act has been presented and signed. But a sweeping TK ruling would still force urgent corrective legislation and reopen coalition tensions under intense political pressure.

The central risk is political: whether the Tusk government will recognize an unfavorable TK judgment at all. Under Article 190 of the Constitution, Tribunal judgments are universally binding, final, and must be published “without delay” in the official journal. Yet, since late 2024, the government has treated the TK as politically compromised due to what it views as irregular appointments under the previous administration and has refused to treat some rulings as operative.

In December 2025, the EU’s Court of Justice held that, because of serious irregularities in appointments, Poland’s Constitutional Tribunal could not be considered independent and impartial under EU law, bolstering the government’s legitimacy argument, even as conservatives insist EU courts have no authority over Poland’s internal constitutional organs.

Against that background, a TK judgment on the 2026 budget can produce two competing “legal realities”:

• The Tribunal’s reality: unconstitutional provisions must fall, and the judgment should be published and take effect.
• The government’s reality: the Tribunal’s decision is invalid—or at least not operative in practice—so the executive continues as if nothing happened.

If the government ignores a judgment declaring the budget unconstitutional in whole or in part, the presidency and opposition would likely respond by insisting Poland is being governed under an illegal budget. Nawrocki could demand a new, constitutional budget act, widening the divide between conservative and liberal officials and deepening institutional distrust.

For now, the signature has lowered the temperature. But the referral ensures the budget remains a constitutional stress test. Either Poland absorbs a difficult judgment through corrective legislation—or it slides further into a system where institutions issue rulings the executive treats as optional. 

In that sense, Poland’s 2026 budget is no longer only a plan for revenue and spending in an increasingly tense financial situation: it is also a test of whether proper political institutions in Poland still have the authority to control government’s actions.