Executive Summary Poland’s response to the proposed Board of Peace has exposed a rare convergence of domestic political rivalry, constitutional rigidity, and strategic uncertainty in Polish foreign policy. Officially invited months ago to join the U.S.-initiated forum, Warsaw has neither accepted nor rejected the offer, opting instead for deliberate ambiguity. This hesitation reflects both Poland’s divided executive authority—between a pro-Trump president and a pro-European prime minister—and the country’s broader reassessment of its relationship with the United States under Donald Trump’s renewed leadership. The debate has become a proxy for Poland’s internal political struggle. President Karol Nawrocki, aligned with conservative and Trump-friendly constituencies, signals openness to engagement even with authoritarian leaders if Polish interests are at stake. Prime Minister Donald Tusk, by contrast, remains deeply skeptical of Trump’s initiatives and wary of endorsing an institution whose governance and purpose remain ill-defined. Parliament, constitutionally required to ratify any agreement involving peace, alliances, or significant financial commitments, acts as an additional brake on rapid decision-making. Public opinion further complicates the picture. Long one of America’s most enthusiastic allies in Europe, Poland has witnessed a sharp erosion of trust in both the United States and its president. This shift constrains Nawrocki’s room for maneuver while simultaneously limiting Tusk’s ability to issue a categorical rejection without appearing to jeopardize Poland’s core security partnership with Washington. Beyond prestige or symbolism, Poland’s choice carries real implications. Warsaw has longstanding economic, energy, and diplomatic interests in the Middle East, from Israeli relations to Gulf energy supplies. Joining the Board of Peace would imply not merely attendance, but a degree of responsibility for a process long marked by failure and instability. Poland’s dilemma, therefore, is not simply whether to join a controversial initiative, but whether it is prepared—politically and strategically—to assume even partial ownership of Middle Eastern diplomacy in a polarized international environment. A Divided Executive and a Political Hot Potato During a recent meeting of the Polish National Security Council, President Karol Nawrocki addressed the prospect of Poland joining the Board of Peace. The invitation had been extended long ago, yet Warsaw has consistently avoided both enthusiastic endorsement and outright rejection of Donald Trump’s proposal. Nawrocki’s remarks were deliberately ambiguous. “I will be ready to sit down even in front of the war criminal Vladimir Putin or [Belarusian president] Alexander Lukashenko, if it’s in the interest of my country,” he declared. Prime Minister Donald Tusk, also present at the meeting, adopted a markedly different tone: “Under the current circumstances Poland will not participate in the Board’s activities. However, we will continue to analyse the situation in a flexible and open manner, and we cannot rule out any scenario.” This exchange encapsulates Poland’s predicament and the broader phenomenon of “strained cohabitation.” Nawrocki, sworn in only six months ago, is widely viewed as a staunch, pro-Trump conservative who has been publicly praised by the American president. Tusk, by contrast, is firmly pro-European and has long expressed skepticism toward Trump, whom he once mockingly dismissed on social media and later suggested might be “a Russian asset.” These personal and ideological differences translate into tangible policy friction. From arms procurement—where Tusk favors deeper cooperation with major European capitals—to regulatory disputes such as the veto of legislation implementing the EU Digital Services Act, the two leaders embody diverging visions of Poland’s place between Europe and the United States. When Trump sparked controversy by belittling NATO allies’ frontline contributions in Afghanistan, Tusk reacted sharply, invoking the sacrifice of Polish soldiers. Nawrocki, by contrast, remained conspicuously restrained. The Board of Peace as a Domestic Fault Line Against this backdrop, the Board of Peace has become a focal point of internal political struggle. Conservative figures allied with Nawrocki warn that rejecting the initiative could be perceived in Washington as a serious affront, potentially damaging relations with a Republican administration. Some have even suggested paying the reported one-billion-dollar fee required for permanent membership. The governing coalition sees little strategic value in the proposal. It highlights inconsistencies in the Board’s charter and expresses unease about Donald Trump’s central role in its management. Less formally, coalition figures dismiss the project as a club dominated by authoritarian leaders and opaque interests. Institutional Constraints and a Convenient Stalemate Unlike in many foreign-policy matters, the Polish president cannot act unilaterally. The constitution requires parliamentary ratification for international agreements touching on peace, alliances, or major political and military commitments. The same applies where an agreement entails a significant financial burden on the state. Poland’s precedent for institutional caution is well established: accession to the European Union in 2003 was submitted to a nationwide referendum. In practice, this legal framework makes any rapid decision on the Board of Peace unlikely. Yet the resulting stalemate suits both sides. Nawrocki is increasingly aware that Polish enthusiasm for Trump—and even trust in the United States more broadly—is eroding. Recent surveys indicate that a majority of Poles no longer regard the U.S. as a reliable ally, while confidence in the American president has collapsed dramatically over the past year. Tusk, meanwhile, walks a narrow path. A clear endorsement of the Board would alienate his anti-Trump electorate. An outright rejection would provide ammunition to his conservative opponents, who already accuse him of deliberately undermining Polish–American relations. The rise of a self-styled “Polish MAGA” current on the right only sharpens this dilemma. Poland, the Middle East, and the Question of Responsibility Often overlooked in the domestic debate is Poland’s long-standing engagement in the Middle East. Successive governments have treated relations with Israel as strategically important, despite periodic tensions. Polish companies have been involved in engineering projects across the Arab world. Poland ranks among the world’s largest exporters of kosher and halal meat and relies heavily on liquefied natural gas imports from Qatar. These realities mean that the decision on the Board of Peace is not merely symbolic. It touches directly on Poland’s economic, energy, and diplomatic interests beyond Europe. More importantly, it raises a question that goes beyond prestige or fleeting diplomatic gestures: responsibility. Joining the Board would imply a willingness to assume—even partially—responsibility for a Middle East peace process that has resisted resolution for decades. Whether Poland is politically prepared and strategically willing to shoulder such a burden remains unclear. For now, Warsaw’s hesitation reflects not indecision, but an acute awareness of the costs that engagement might entail.