When Conservative Social Policies Backfire

This article is brought to you by American Purpose, the magazine and community founded by Francis Fukuyama in 2020, which is proudly part of the Persuasion family. Poland is known as a bastion of European conservatism—and also as a country that, since 1989, has demonstrated rapid economic growth that is twice the average for OECD countries. From the outside, it might seem that these two things are interconnected. But as a naturalized citizen who has lived in Poland for over four years, I will try to show that policies based on conservative values not only weigh down Polish businesses, but also lead to consequences that even conservatives are unhappy with. On Sundays, millions of people around the world flock to shopping malls. Even in my native Belarus, where the number of political prisoners per capita is comparable to that of Cuba, the mall is a hub of activity at weekends for those who aren’t in prison. Poland, where Sunday shopping has been gradually banned since 2018, stands apart from this cult of consumption. The law, supported by the Catholic Church, was initially promoted by the “Solidarity” trade union under the pretext that it would allow Polish women—who make up the majority of the retail workforce—to spend Sundays with their families. The law did, however, provide for exceptions—of which retail chains took advantage, handing out parcels in addition to groceries, or hanging paintings above their beer refrigerators to turn their stalls into “galleries.” Many of these loopholes were eventually closed, meaning the law took full effect—and it is now clear that all of its stated goals have failed. Sunday church attendance has fallen. And although this decline fits into a broader secular trend and is partly linked to COVID-19, the Sunday shopping law may have played a significant role. Cezary Kaźmierczak, head of the Union of Entrepreneurs and Employers, notes that for many, attending church was a nuanced ritual—people would first go to church and then, with a clear conscience, to the mall. Instead of church, however, Poles have chosen bread and circuses. Now, Polish women are once again working on Sundays—only this time at movie theaters and food courts, wondering why the Adidas saleswoman gets to spend her Sunday with her family, while the McDonald’s saleswoman does not. The law dealt the heaviest blow to small businesses. Large retail chains retooled their marketing strategies for Friday and Saturday, changing people’s shopping habits. Some small shops began to close, and their place was taken by franchise chains such as Żabka, whose stores can operate on Sundays because, technically, they are not owned by the chain but by the independent entrepreneurs who run them. This “independence” does not exempt entrepreneurs from Żabka’s strict corporate policies, but it does allow them to operate outside the labor code and work not only on Sundays but also up to seventeen hours a day. (In addition, a blank promissory note, which must be signed “for Żabka’s security,” can ultimately leave a franchisee $30,000 in debt, which is why critics call the franchise a form of modern slavery.) But the Polish government didn’t stop there. Having “protected” Poles’ right to rest on Sundays, it has now taken on a larger problem—the protection of the nation. The honeymoon period for Polish attitudes towards migrants—and especially toward migrants from Ukraine—is over. While at the start of the war, 94% of Poles supported taking in Ukrainian refugees, by July 2026 52% opposed such a policy. Furthermore, in the first half of 2026, the number of hate crimes against Ukrainians rose by 30%. The history behind Poles’ particular attitude toward Ukrainians is complex. Oliver Cromwell is a national hero to the British but a butcher to the Irish. Ukrainians and Poles have their own Oliver Cromwell: Stepan Bandera, who fought for Ukrainian independence during World War Two, but was also implicated in the Volhynia massacre of 1943-44, in which 100,000 Poles were killed. At the same time, Ukrainians view Bandera first and foremost as a fighter against Russia—which is particularly relevant in the context of the current conflict. Some aren’t even aware that he has any connection to Poland (I myself spoke with a Ukrainian who didn’t understand why Poles get annoyed when Ukrainians sing the song “Our Father Is Bandera” in the streets). Meanwhile, even those who are aware of the connection tend to downplay the accusations, arguing that there was violence on both sides and that the Volhynia massacre was carried out by Bandera’s supporters rather than the man himself, who at the time was imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp. Even in 2022, at the start of the Ukraine War, these tensions were evident. However, they were magnified by the paleolibertarian Confederation Party, which had grown to be the third-largest political party in Poland by capitalizing on anti-immigration rhetoric. In response, the Polish political center began to shift to the right, and as a result, Donald Tusk’s liberal government adopted the anti-immigrant strategy “Regain control. Ensure security,” under which the state excludes migrants arriving from certain countries. As part of this strategy, in 2025 the government reduced the number of work permits for non-EU nationals (whose labor accounts for up to 10.7% of the Polish economy) by 22%. Experts believe that this strategy, which restricts the hiring of foreigners, prioritizes short-term political goals at the expense of the economy. Poland doesn’t actually face a shortage of jobs being taken by migrants. On the contrary: demographic decline in Poland is causing an acute labor shortage. According to estimates by the Polish Economic Institute, if this shortfall is not offset—including through foreign workers—Poland could lose 2.1 million workers by 2035, resulting in a 6-8% decline in GDP due to losses in the industrial sector. To be fair, Polish conservatives are also trying to address the demographic problem. But the methods they’ve chosen have had unexpected consequences. Poland has one of the strictest anti-abortion laws in Europe. (This is not just true for the liberal countries that are part of the EU. For example, in my native Belarus—often called Europe’s last dictatorship—you can go to prison for a comment on YouTube, yet abortion remains a standard medical procedure.) Unlike most European countries, the concept of “abortion on demand” does not exist in Poland. Abortion in Poland is even banned when the fetus is terminally ill, forcing women to carry the child to term and give birth, knowing the child will suffer and die. While in theory abortion is permitted when the mother’s health is at risk or if the pregnancy is the result of rape or incest, these exemptions do not always apply in practice. A woman who decides to have an abortion bears no legal responsibility—only those who assist in performing the procedure can face criminal prosecution, even for simply giving a woman abortion pills. In this situation, Polish doctors are reluctant to perform abortions resulting from rape—after all, this claim must be confirmed by a prosecutor, and it is not always possible to secure such confirmation within the allotted 12 weeks. And even if the pregnancy threatens the mother’s health, doctors prefer to wait until sepsis sets in, though this strategy carries the risk of criminal prosecution. Poland’s abortion ban has led to two outcomes, one of which spells trouble for conservatives, and the other for society as a whole. Because of the abortion ban in Poland, feminists and “Eurocrats”—so despised by conservatives—have begun to gain popularity. By mobilizing their supporters in the fight for abortion rights, they were able to form Tusk’s liberal government, which, issued an official directive to the Ministry of Health stating that a threat to a woman’s health also includes threats to her mental health. Nor did the abortion ban solve the problem of fear of pregnancy. When getting pregnant means you might die, Polish women think much more about the risks before going through with it. Economists at the University of Warsaw have calculated that the abortion ban reduced the birth rate by 6.6% precisely because pregnancy is now perceived as an extremely risky undertaking. Since the number of women reporting they’re avoiding pregnancy altogether has now exceeded the number of legal abortions in previous years, it seems that women who might in other circumstances have chosen motherhood are deciding against it. Only time will tell how this decline will affect Poland’s economic growth and its pay-as-you-go pension system—but one suspects that few will be pleased with the outcome. Thanks in part to integration into the EU, and economic aid from the bloc, Poland has indeed shown remarkable growth in its recent history. Conservative values—such as a high level of public trust—may also have played a significant role in this. However, attempts to impose these values from above have not only harmed the economy, but have also lead to outcomes that clearly contradict the very goals conservatives were aiming for. Slava Amanatski is a Belarusian stand‑up comedian and writer who is temporarily living in Poland due to certain disagreements with Alexander Lukashenko’s regime. Follow Persuasion on X, Instagram, LinkedIn, and YouTube to keep up with our latest articles, podcasts, and events, as well as updates from excellent writers across our network. And, to receive pieces like this in your inbox and support our work, subscribe below: Cool piece! I didn't know anything about any of this before reading.