Trust in the Catholic Church in Poland has plummeted to a historic low, with barely one-third of Poles now expressing confidence in the institution.
According to a new survey by the Polish Institute for Market and Social Research Foundation (IBRiS), trust has fallen from 58 per cent in 2016 to just 35.1 percent in September 2025. Distrust, meanwhile, has nearly doubled in the same period — rising sharply from 24.2 per cent to 47.1 per cent.
Commentators attribute the decline to the bishops’ mishandling of abuse scandals, excessive involvement in politics, and the perception of being preoccupied with money.
“The blame for the significant decline in trust in the Church lies solely with the bishops,” wrote Tomasz Krzyzak, editor of the Rzeczpospolita journal. “No more distorting reality. The Church is an authority only for a handful of Poles.”
Bishop Artur Wazny of Sosnowiec was the first and only Polish bishop to publicly comment on the findings. In a post on X (formerly Twitter), he acknowledged the gravity of the crisis, writing: “I beat my breast, even though I know that this is not enough.”
Quoting the prophet Ezekiel, he warned: “Woe to the shepherds of Israel who have been pasturing themselves! Should not shepherds pasture the flock?”
Poland’s abuse crisis came to light in 2018, prompting several reforms.
The Church established the St Joseph Foundation in 2019 to fund therapy and assistance for survivors and created the Office of Delegate of Child Protection under Archbishop Wojciech Polak.
However, no comprehensive national report on abuse cases has been published, despite promises made as early as 2023 to form an independent investigative commission.
Two years later, the commission has yet to be established.
Krzyzak summarised the Church’s woes with what he called the “three P’s”: polityka, pedofilia, pieni?dze — politics, paedophilia, and money.
Robert Fidura, a survivor and prominent advocate for victims, added a fourth: poor communication. He criticised Church leaders for speaking in overly formal, theological language that alienates ordinary Catholics. “For many, this is empty talk,” he said.
Fidura also argued that the Church in Poland has been in a “black hole” since the death of St John Paul II in 2005. “The bishops merely implemented his vision. When he was gone, there were no new ideas, no strategy,” he said.
The crisis deepened further this month when Marta Titaniec, president of the St Joseph Foundation and the only laywoman in Poland’s national Church leadership structures, announced she would not seek another term.
While expressing gratitude to survivors for their trust, she admitted she “did not always encounter understanding” for the foundation’s work among bishops.
Fidura warned that her departure could spell the end of survivor-centred reform efforts.
“It looks like there will be no independent commission, nor the foundation in the welcoming form that Marta Titaniec created and led,” he said.
Krzyzak concluded his editorial with a pointed reminder of Pope Francis’ call for bishops to be close to their flock: “A good shepherd must smell the scent of his sheep. The problem is that many Polish hierarchs don’t even try — and the effect is visible.”