The European Parliament has taken a decisive step in a high-profile political saga unfolding in Poland, voting on October 7, 2025, to lift the immunity of two Polish lawmakers: Daniel Obajtek and Michał Dworczyk. This move, carried out by a show of hands in Strasbourg, opens the door for Polish national prosecutors to pursue charges of alleged abuses of power—charges that have stirred both hope and consternation across Poland’s fractured political landscape.
For Prime Minister Donald Tusk, who returned to power in 2023 with a centrist coalition and a pledge to restore accountability to Polish politics, the Parliament’s decision marks an early, tangible victory in his campaign to confront alleged wrongdoing by members of the nationalist Law and Justice (PiS) party. PiS, which governed Poland from 2015 to 2023, had implemented sweeping changes to the country’s justice system—reforms that critics argue were designed to shield their own from prosecution and entrench party control over state institutions.
According to the Associated Press, the two lawmakers at the center of the storm are Daniel Obajtek, former chief executive of the state energy giant PKN Orlen, and Michał Dworczyk, who served as the head of the office for then-Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki. Polish prosecutors allege that Obajtek misused Orlen funds to pay for detectives who pursued his private agenda, a charge that has fueled intense debate about the intersection of public money and personal interests in state-run companies.
Dworczyk, on the other hand, faces accusations of conducting official government business—including the sharing of classified information—through his private email address while leading the prime minister’s office from 2017 to 2022. The situation took a dramatic turn in 2021, when hackers published some of Dworczyk’s emails on Telegram. The leak, which exposed sensitive communications, ultimately led to his resignation in 2022, as reported by the BBC and other outlets.
Both men have vigorously denied any wrongdoing. In a statement posted to X (formerly Twitter), Obajtek lashed out at the European Parliament and the Tusk government, saying, “Thus, the European Parliament—so vocal about defending democratic values, human rights, and freedoms—is making it easier for Tusk’s team to pursue further political repression against me.” Dworczyk has echoed these sentiments, also accusing Tusk’s administration of using the justice system as a tool for political persecution.
The charges themselves, while serious, are only a part of a larger battle over Poland’s democratic institutions and the rule of law. Tusk and his supporters contend that PiS, during its eight years in power, systematically used state resources and changed legal frameworks to serve partisan goals. The most contentious of these reforms involved the judiciary: PiS installed loyalists in key judicial positions and curtailed the independence of courts, moves that drew sharp criticism from the European Union and sparked mass protests at home.
Yet, as Reuters notes, these very reforms have complicated Tusk’s efforts to deliver on his accountability pledge. The prosecutor general’s powers were curtailed under PiS, making it harder for the new government to pursue high-profile cases against former officials. The decision by the European Parliament to lift the immunity of Obajtek and Dworczyk is, therefore, not just a procedural step—it is a rare opportunity for Tusk’s team to act on its campaign promises in a system that often seems stacked against them.
For many Poles, the unfolding drama is both a test of the country’s democratic resilience and a window into the rough-and-tumble world of national politics. The allegations against Obajtek and Dworczyk are specific: Obajtek is said to have diverted public funds for private investigations, while Dworczyk is accused of mishandling state secrets through insecure channels. But the broader narrative is one of clashing visions for Poland’s future—one side calling for transparency and reform, the other warning of political vendettas masquerading as justice.
The Law and Justice party, still a formidable force in Polish politics, has rallied behind its embattled lawmakers. Supporters argue that the charges are politically motivated, designed to weaken the opposition and consolidate Tusk’s grip on power. They point to the timing of the immunity vote—coming less than two years after Tusk’s return—as evidence of a calculated campaign. “Political repression,” Dworczyk has said, summarizing the mood among PiS loyalists, who see the prosecutions as part of a wider effort to rewrite the legacy of their years in government.
However, Tusk’s allies counter that the investigation is about restoring the rule of law and repairing the damage done to Poland’s institutions over the past decade. They argue that failing to hold former officials accountable would send a dangerous signal that political power offers impunity. “Accountability is not vengeance,” one senior Tusk aide told the Financial Times. “It’s about making sure that those entrusted with public resources and secrets are answerable for their actions.”
The European Parliament’s involvement adds another layer of complexity. As members debated the immunity requests, the chamber was keenly aware of the symbolic weight of its decision. The Parliament has often positioned itself as a defender of democratic norms in the EU’s eastern flank, especially as concerns about backsliding have grown in countries like Poland and Hungary. By voting to lift immunity, lawmakers signaled their willingness to support national efforts to investigate alleged abuses—even as they faced accusations from PiS supporters that they were meddling in domestic affairs.
For observers across Europe, the case is a reminder of the delicate balance between political accountability and political rivalry. It’s not the first time a post-communist democracy has grappled with the legacy of a powerful party’s rule—and it likely won’t be the last. The coming months will reveal whether Polish prosecutors can mount credible cases against Obajtek and Dworczyk, and whether the courts—still shaped by years of PiS reforms—will act independently.
Meanwhile, the two lawmakers remain defiant. Both have pledged to fight the charges in court and in the court of public opinion, framing themselves as victims of a political witch hunt. Their supporters are equally resolute, warning that the prosecutions could deepen Poland’s political divisions and undermine faith in the justice system. For Tusk, the stakes couldn’t be higher: success could cement his reputation as a reformer, while failure could embolden his opponents and stall his broader agenda.
As Poland enters this new phase of legal and political confrontation, all eyes will be on the next moves of prosecutors, judges, and lawmakers. The outcome will not only shape the fate of two prominent politicians but also test the strength of Poland’s democracy at a critical juncture.
