By all appearances, Karol Nawrocki’s wafer-thin victory in Poland’s presidential election does not merely reflect the political schisms of one post-communist state. It is symptomatic of a deeper and more dangerous tide – the renewed surge of illiberal populism across Europe, echoing the nationalist impulses of Donald Trump’s America.
To call Nawrocki “Poland’s Trump” might seem glib, but it’s not far off the mark. The conservative historian, once a local politician and now president-elect, ran a campaign squarely in the style of Trump’s insurgent nationalism: “Poland First,” anti-EU, culturally conservative, suspicious of refugees, and buoyed by vague promises of “restoring normality.” That’s a word Trump has wielded too – as though pluralism, compassion, and cooperation were a detour from the natural order.
What once seemed like an abstract philosophical clash between the Enlightenment’s liberal legacy and the surging tide of exclusionary populism has, in parts of Eastern Europe, morphed into a very real struggle – not just of ideas, but of institutions, elections, and everyday life. The battlegrounds are no longer only rhetorical; they are ballots, legislatures, and public squares.
Trump, ever the global cheerleader for populist allies, wasted no time declaring Nawrocki a “WINNER.” The endorsement was not mere rhetoric. Nawrocki’s candidacy had been blessed at the White House and given an extra boost by a CPAC summit in Warsaw, replete with praise from Trump-world acolytes. In many ways, Nawrocki’s success is Trump’s vicarious vindication: proof that the nationalist playbook still works, even outside America’s borders.
But for all the applause from Mar-a-Lago, Nawrocki’s triumph is less a landslide and more a landslip. He edged out Warsaw Mayor Rafał Trzaskowski by a margin of 50.89% to 49.11%. This razor-thin result doesn’t spell a decisive populist victory. Rather, it reveals a society almost perfectly split, torn between Tusk’s liberal vision of a democratic, pro-European Poland and the right-wing nostalgia for national sovereignty unburdened by Brussels.
This is not unique to Poland. In Romania, pro-EU liberal Nicușor Dan narrowly triumphed over pro-MAGA Euroskeptic George Simion, and only after the latter tripped over his own blunders. In Moldova, Maia Sandu’s re-election was similarly fragile, masking deep ambivalence about EU membership – a referendum saw pro-Europe votes scrape past the 50% mark. Even in victory, liberalism looks weary.
It is tempting to lay the blame squarely at the feet of Russian interference – and to be sure, the Kremlin’s fingerprints are not hard to find. But the failure of liberalism in Eastern Europe is not just a question of hostile influence. It’s also about internal disillusionment. The promise of the West – democracy, prosperity, dignity – has rung hollow for many who expected transformation after communism but received only corruption, inequality, and stagnation.
At the heart of the populist surge lies not simply disappointment with liberalism’s promises, but a deeper, more corrosive sentiment – the resentment born of being told to emulate a supposedly superior model, only to be reminded, time and again, of one’s failure to measure up. In its Western incarnation, this grievance is taking on a familiar shape: a conviction that liberal democracy has become a playground for elites, while the rest are left grappling with the disorienting churn of migration, economic strain, and cultural drift.
What unites these grievances, whether in Warsaw or Wisconsin, is a disdain for complexity and compromise. Liberal democracy demands both. Populism, by contrast, promises clarity through division: us versus them, natives versus migrants, patriots versus globalists. It is an intoxicating potion, particularly when mixed with national mythology and economic anxiety.
In this light, Nawrocki’s victory feels less like a fluke and more like the latest tremor in a continental shift. His power to veto legislation now threatens to stall Donald Tusk’s attempts to reverse a decade of democratic erosion. Critical judicial reforms – necessary not just for the rule of law but for the unfreezing of €137 billion in EU funds – may die on Nawrocki’s desk. Poland’s ambition to reclaim its liberal bearings could falter at the hands of a president who owes his office to a movement that regards European integration as treason.
It’s not just Warsaw’s internal politics at stake. Nawrocki may strain ties with Berlin and Paris, muddy NATO cohesion over Ukraine, and sharpen the East-West rift within the EU. He may oppose abortion and LGBTQ+ rights legislation and reinforce the identity politics that seek to reduce democracy to majoritarianism.
Donald Trump, watching all this unfold, likely sees an affirmation of his worldview. For him, the arc of history does not bend toward justice; it bends toward grievance. His admiration for Nawrocki – like his bromance with Hungary’s Viktor Orbán and Slovakia’s Robert Fico – lies in their shared disdain for liberal pluralism and their ability to weaponize nationalism into a governing creed.
But there is also resistance. The liberal camp may be battered, but it is not broken. In Romania, in Moldova, and even among half of Poland’s electorate, there is still belief in a Europe that is open, democratic, and just. Ukraine stands as the clearest proof that liberalism, though flawed and slow, is worth defending. Ukrainians are dying not for empire, but for freedom – not to return to Soviet-style authoritarianism, but to step fully into a liberal order that too many in the West now take for granted.
The risk today is that liberal democracies, in both America and Europe, fail to renew themselves. That they forget how to make the case for gradual betterment, compromise, and dignity over spectacle and demagoguery. That they surrender to the false promise of “normality” – a euphemism for a past that never quite existed.
Karol Nawrocki’s win, like Trump’s own rise, is a warning. The populist wave has not receded; it has merely reshaped its contours. Europe may not be sleepwalking toward illiberalism, but it is certainly flirting with it – eyes open, fists clenched, past unresolved. And Donald Trump, from afar, is smiling.
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