Dr. Amir Ali.

Dr. Amir Ali: Democratic Backsliding Is Global, but India’s Crisis Is Unfolding on a Far More Dangerous Scale

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Amir Ali, Assistant Professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University, offers a sobering assessment of India’s democratic trajectory after the 2026 state elections. He argues that while democratic backsliding is global, India’s crisis is unfolding on “a particularly worrying scale,” driven by polarized electoral mobilization, institutional weakening, and Hindutva majoritarian consolidation. Dr. Ali examines the BJP’s breakthrough in West Bengal, anti-Muslim rhetoric in Bengal and Assam, voter-roll deletions, and the narrowing of Indian pluralism into a majoritarian national project. Comparing India with Turkey, Hungary, Brazil, and Trump-era America, he warns that India is increasingly marked by institutional complicity, shrinking opposition space, and the remaking of “the people” around Hindutva identity.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Over the past decade, India has increasingly become central to global debates on populism, democratic erosion, nationalism, and the transformation of liberal constitutionalism. Once widely celebrated as the world’s largest democracy and as a paradigmatic example of postcolonial pluralism, India now occupies a far more contested position within comparative political analysis. The 2026 state elections—marked by the BJP’s (Baharatiya Janata Party) historic breakthrough in West Bengal, the consolidation of Hindu majoritarianism in Assam, and the continued dominance of Narendra Modi’s political project—have intensified concerns regarding institutional capture, majoritarian citizenship, the shrinking space for dissent, and the future of secular democracy in South Asia.

In this context, the insights of Dr. Amir Ali, Assistant Professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University, offer a powerful and deeply unsettling diagnosis of India’s current political trajectory. Drawing on his extensive scholarship on populism, Hindutva nationalism, democracy, secularism, inequality, and the transformation of the public sphere, Dr. Ali situates India’s democratic crisis within a broader global wave of democratic backsliding, while insisting that the Indian case now possesses a uniquely dangerous scale and intensity.

“Democratic backsliding,” he argues, “is certainly not unique to India; it is occurring across the world. But in India, it is unfolding on a particularly worrying scale.” For Dr. Ali, what distinguishes India is not simply the electoral success of the BJP, but the convergence of “a highly polarized form of electoral mobilization together with the apparent complicity of constitutional institutions.” In his view, this combination signals “the deteriorating condition of Indian democracy.”

Throughout this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Ali examines how Hindutva has evolved from a project of symbolic domination into what he describes as an attempt at “the complete erasure of many aspects of Muslim society.” Reflecting on recent developments in West Bengal, he argues that the public sphere is no longer merely being “imprinted with Hindutva national symbols,” but is increasingly shaped by efforts to erase Muslim cultural, symbolic, and religious visibility altogether.

The interview also explores the transformation of Indian nationalism itself. According to Dr. Ali, the BJP has systematically narrowed the “bandwidth” of Indian nationalism, replacing the plural and inclusive vision associated with Gandhi, Nehru, and Ambedkar with a far more exclusionary conception of national belonging. The rhetoric of the “infiltrator,” he argues, functions as a mechanism of otherization designed to portray Muslims as outsiders who do not truly belong to the nation.

Equally significant is Dr. Ali’s analysis of institutional decline. He contrasts the relative independence once exercised by figures such as T. N. Seshan and James Michael Lyngdoh with the contemporary weakening of institutional autonomy under BJP dominance. In his assessment, the Election Commission increasingly appears “an instrument in the hands of the ruling party,” while electoral revision exercises have contributed to the disenfranchisement of Muslim voters.

At the same time, Dr. Ali situates India within a broader comparative landscape alongside Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Viktor Orbán, Jair Bolsonaro, and Donald Trump. Yet he argues that India differs in one crucial respect: unlike Brazil, Hungary, or the United States, he currently sees no realistic possibility of Narendra Modi being electorally removed from power in the foreseeable future.

What emerges from this conversation is not simply an analysis of electoral politics, but a broader meditation on nationalism, democracy, populism, austerity, institutional decay, and the remaking of “the people” in contemporary India. Dr. Ali’s reflections offer a sobering portrait of a democracy increasingly defined by majoritarian consolidation, emotional polarization, and narrowing citizenship—while also illuminating the profound global significance of India’s political transformation.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Dr. Amir Ali, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

The BJP Now Seeks Domination from Parliament to Panchayat

Narendra Modi.
Narendra Modi files his nomination papers from the Vadodara Lok Sabha seat in Gujarat amid tight security and supporter turnout. Photo: Nisarg Lakhmani | Dreamstime.

Dr. Amir Ali, welcome! To begin, how do you interpret the BJP’s 2026 breakthrough in West Bengal, a state historically shaped by anti-colonial cosmopolitanism, Left politics, and subaltern mobilization? Does this mark the consolidation of Hindutva as a truly national hegemonic formation?

Dr. Amir Ali: The electoral dominance of the BJP now appears almost invincible. What the BJP has managed to do is to perfect the art of winning at the ballot box. This ambition is captured very clearly in the slogan “Parliament to Panchayat”—with Parliament referring to the national legislature and panchayat referring to local government institutions. The slogan reflects an almost insatiable desire to dominate every level and aspect of Indian politics. In terms of electoral strategy and political consolidation, the BJP has become extraordinarily effective.

At the same time, there is a growing sense of resentment in India regarding the seeming invincibility of the BJP. This stems not only from its electoral mobilization, but also from what has become a major complaint of the opposition—one with which I am largely sympathetic—namely, the existence of an uneven playing field. Even institutions such as the Election Commission, which is constitutionally expected to function as a neutral body, are increasingly perceived as taking decisions that favor the ruling BJP. This dynamic broadly summarizes the recent elections in major states. You mentioned West Bengal, which was of course the most significant case, but we also saw similar patterns in Kerala and Puducherry.

What is particularly worrying is that this points toward a form of near-total political domination. In any parliamentary or electoral democracy, it is unhealthy when a single party becomes so dominant that the opposition is effectively shut out from meaningful avenues of dissent and political expression. That is how I would interpret the current moment.

Hindutva Now Seeks to Erase Muslim Visibility

In your work on the Indian public sphere, you argue that Hindutva seeks to institutionalize its own symbols, norms, and values as the legitimate markers of the Indian state. How does the BJP’s victory in West Bengal alter the symbolic architecture of India’s public sphere?

Dr. Amir Ali: That is a very good question. My work on the public sphere is now almost two decades old, and at the time the Hindutva project was not nearly as aggressive as it is today. Back then, I was trying to understand the attempt not only to inflect the public sphere, but also to create a form of cultural domination within it. What we see today, under this much more assertive form of Hindutva associated with Modi’s BJP, is an attempt at the complete erasure of many aspects of Muslim society in particular.

In West Bengal, for example, one of the most recent flashpoints has concerned the offering of namaz, Friday prayers. There was a confrontation between the police and Muslim worshippers in the Park Circus and Park Street areas of Calcutta, which are Muslim-majority neighborhoods.

Compared to the period when I wrote that earlier work on the public sphere, the current attempt to dominate public space is now characterized by a drive toward the disappearance and erasure of aspects of Muslim society and culture. This includes the renaming of streets, for example, as well as the use of bulldozers, which I find deeply troubling. These bulldozers have frequently been used to target Muslim properties under the justification of anti-encroachment drives.

So, the public sphere today is no longer merely about imprinting it with Hindutva national symbols. It has escalated into an effort to erase aspects of Muslim symbolic, cultural, and religious practices altogether. And that is extremely worrying.

Anti-Muslim Rhetoric Has Become Progressively Harsher

India-Muslims.
Muslims celebrate Eid al-Fitr at Jama Masjid in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, marking the end of Ramadan and the beginning of the Islamic month of Shawwal, August 29, 2014. Photo: Nisarg Lakhmani / Dreamstime.

To what extent do the results in West Bengal and Assam reveal the BJP’s capacity to forge cross-class Hindu consolidation while deepening the political marginalization of Muslims, migrants, and minorities?

Dr. Amir Ali: In both West Bengal and Assam, the election campaigns were marked by some of the most vitriolic political rhetoric I have ever witnessed. The Assam Chief Minister, Himanta Biswa Sarma, employed a particularly dangerous form of language. Muslims were openly targeted, and there was a clear suggestion that they somehow needed to be made to suffer. Although these remarks were made in Assamese, that was broadly the substance and political effect of what was being communicated.

Similarly, in West Bengal—which for decades was shaped politically by the Left Front and, over the last fifteen years, by the Trinamool Congress—both political formations had at least attempted to maintain a relatively inclusive approach toward Muslims. 

What I observed in the BJP’s rhetoric, however, was a very systematic, deliberate, and deeply aggressive targeting of Muslims. That constituted one major dimension of the party’s electoral mobilization. The more troubling dimension, however, concerned what became known in West Bengal as the “special intensive revision” of the electoral rolls. As a consequence of that exercise, a significant number of Muslim names were reportedly removed from the voter rolls. Several political analysts examining the constituency-level data pointed out that, in some constituencies, the BJP’s margin of victory was actually smaller than the number of voters who had been deleted. Now, electoral revision is, of course, a legitimate administrative exercise. But it should never be conducted immediately before elections, as happened in Bihar in 2025 and again in Bengal.

So, the concern is not only the escalation of increasingly vicious anti-Muslim rhetoric. Over the years, I have observed a very clear trend in which the BJP’s electoral language toward Muslims has become progressively harsher and more hostile. But the even more serious concern is the role of constitutional institutions—particularly the Election Commission of India, which was once widely regarded as a highly trusted institution. In this case, however, it appeared unwilling to stand up to the BJP government and was increasingly perceived, in the words of some commentators, as the BJP’s “B team.” Even the Supreme Court of India appeared reluctant to intervene decisively or raise difficult questions regarding the Election Commission’s conduct.

To my mind, this combination—a highly polarized form of electoral mobilization together with the apparent complicity of constitutional institutions—represents another sign of the deteriorating condition of Indian democracy. Democratic backsliding, as political scientists describe it, is certainly not unique to India; it is occurring across the world. But in India, it is unfolding on a particularly worrying scale.

The ‘Infiltrator’ Rhetoric Places Muslims Outside National Belonging

How should we understand the rhetoric of “infiltration” in Bengal and Assam—as electoral strategy, civilizational anxiety, bureaucratic exclusion, or a new grammar of majoritarian citizenship?

Dr. Amir Ali: It is fundamentally an attempt to otherize—to create a sense of fear within the Hindu electoral base regarding Muslims. The problem with nationalism, especially when it operates within a narrow bandwidth, is that it often produces precisely this kind of otherization. Historically, India witnessed different forms of nationalism, particularly during the anti-colonial struggle against British rule. The independence movement led by Gandhi, Nehru, and Ambedkar articulated a broader and more inclusive nationalism—one capable of incorporating Muslims and emphasizing the country’s diversity. Indian secularism itself was often understood through this principle of inclusivity: the coexistence of Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, and numerous other religious communities within a shared political framework.

What we see under the BJP, however, is a deliberate narrowing of that nationalistic bandwidth. And that narrowing inevitably involves a systematic process of otherizing Muslims. The rhetoric of the “infiltrator” fits directly into this logic. One of the most effective ways for the BJP to consolidate its electoral base is to cultivate fear and insinuate that Muslims somehow do not truly belong in India.

Statistically, the idea of the infiltrator does not correlate with the actual number of people entering the country. Of course, there will always be cases of undocumented migration. But the manner in which this rhetoric has been mobilized and deployed during elections serves a different purpose: it seeks to portray Muslims as ghuspetia—to use the Hindi term—meaning outsiders or intruders who do not belong here. This reflects a broader nationalist framework in which Muslims are not regarded as fully part of India because Islam is perceived as a religion that is not indigenous to the subcontinent. In that sense, the rhetoric appeals to an extremely narrow conception of nationalism. And any nationalism with a narrow bandwidth becomes deeply divisive. The purpose of nationalism should be to include, incorporate, and encompass diverse peoples. But the “infiltrator” rhetoric, and the way it has been deployed, represents a clear process of otherization and a systematic attempt to place Muslims outside even the boundaries of national belonging.

Indian Pluralism Is Being Replaced by National Oneness

Hindus perform ritual bathing in the Ganges River in Varanasi (Benares), one of Hinduism’s holiest cities in northern India. Photo: Dreamstime.

You have written about the fragility of diversity in liberal polities. Do these elections suggest that Indian pluralism is being transformed from a constitutional ideal into a conditional concession granted by majoritarian power?

Dr. Amir Ali: I would think so, yes. That is a very important question. India has always been regarded as a deeply plural and diverse country. We have many languages, many religions, and many different kinds of people across the country. Historically, it was precisely this diversity that was celebrated. Quite often, that celebration may have been symbolic, but at least the principle existed. The idea of “unity in diversity,” for instance, was one of the central ways in which India understood itself.

What we are witnessing now, however, is an attempt to construct the idea of a certain kind of oneness. Prime Minister Modi’s rhetoric has consistently revolved around this notion. He repeatedly invokes slogans such as “one nation, one election,” which appears likely to become the next major political development if the BJP succeeds in implementing it—and, of course, the BJP has largely succeeded in advancing its broader agenda.

So, what we are seeing is a movement away from the celebration of plurality and diversity toward the assertion of a singular national identity. Modi also speaks of “one nation, one ration card” and “one nation, one tax.” This emphasis on national oneness stands in sharp contrast to the pluralism you are referring to.

I would, however, add a slight twist to your question. I do not think this is even about conditional concession anymore. The emerging message is that Muslims simply do not belong. A concession would still imply that minorities are allowed to exist on the condition that the majority accepts them. But the trajectory of the BJP’s electoral and ideological rhetoric increasingly casts Muslims as outsiders altogether.

If we return to major Hindutva ideologues such as Savarkar and Golwalkar, they were very explicit in arguing that Muslims should occupy the position of second-class citizens. Their argument was that although a Muslim’s birthplace may happen to be India, the center of his or her religious allegiance lies outside India, thereby rendering Muslims inherently suspect.

So, I think we have moved beyond the idea of conditionality. What we are now witnessing is an attempt to portray Muslims as complete outsiders who do not belong here at all. And if they are allowed to continue existing within the nation, it is only under conditions determined by the BJP and its Hindutva majoritarian base. In other words, Muslims are expected to conform entirely to the ideological and political framework established by the BJP’s Hindutva nationalist agenda.

Administrative Majoritarianism Is Reshaping Indian Democracy

Does the controversy over voter-roll deletions in West Bengal signal a shift from electoral majoritarianism to administrative majoritarianism, where democratic exclusion is achieved through procedural and bureaucratic means?

Dr. Amir Ali: Yes, I think so. It is very unfortunate, because I have observed the Election Commission over many years. Before the BJP government came to power—which has now been in office for twelve years—the Election Commission was regarded as a very powerful and independent institution.

Let me give you two examples. Back in the 1990s, there was a highly assertive Chief Election Commissioner, T. N. Seshan. Many of his reforms were extremely significant. For example, he introduced photo identity cards in the early to mid-1990s. Election commissioners such as Seshan were able to stand up to politicians, including ruling parties, and make it clear that they were not beholden to the government of the day, but were instead accountable to the Constitution and the Indian state.

Then, in the early 2000s, there was another assertive Chief Election Commissioner, James Michael Lyngdoh. In 2002, following the Gujarat riots, when Mr. Modi was Chief Minister of Gujarat, Lyngdoh openly resisted pressure from the government and insisted that state assembly elections could not be held immediately after the riots. He argued that elections should only take place once those who had been displaced and were living in refugee camps had returned to their homes.

My point is that, in earlier periods, the powers granted to the Election Commission under Articles 324 and 325 of the Indian Constitution were exercised independently and, at times, even in opposition to the government in power. As a result, India had elections that were widely regarded as free, fair, and clean.

Now, however, with the Election Commission no longer acting with the same degree of independence—and with the current Chief Election Commissioner, Gyanesh Kumar, often accused of siding with the BJP government—we are witnessing the Commission itself becoming, to a significant extent, an instrument in the hands of the ruling party.

The Special Intensive Revision (SIR) exercise, which resulted in the large-scale disenfranchisement of Muslim voters in particular, is one example of this broader trend in which Muslim citizens of this country are being denied something as fundamental as the right to vote.

Hindutva Narrows What It Means to Be Hindu

India
A saffron flag associated with Hindu symbolism and Maratha warrior traditions displayed in Mumbai, Maharashtra, India, November 3, 2019. Photo: Harshit Srivastava / Dreamstime.

How do you assess the relationship between Hinduism and Hindutva in the wake of these elections? Is Hindutva further narrowing the philosophical and plural traditions of Hinduism into a more disciplined nationalist ideology?

Dr. Amir Ali: Yes. I think Hindutva is a form of religious nationalism and the problem with this particular form of nationalism is that it offers only one way of interpreting what it means to be Hindu. You referred to the broader philosophical confidence that Hinduism historically possessed—the idea that there are multiple ways of being Hindu. Many scholars have written about this. I am not deeply familiar with the full literature, but I have encountered arguments emphasizing Hinduism’s certain catholicity, its all-encompassing nature. What Hindutva has done, as a form of Hindu nationalism, is essentially to tell Hindus that this is the only legitimate way to be Hindu. And many people who do not subscribe to the Hindutva ideology have made precisely this point.

In my response to your earlier question, I referred to the idea of a narrowing bandwidth. I would bring that idea back here. What Hindutva nationalism is doing is significantly narrowing this bandwidth. It is not only imposing conditions upon Muslims—the point I made in an earlier answer—but also imposing conditions upon adherents of the broader Hindu philosophical tradition itself. It effectively tells believers that this is the only acceptable way to be Hindu, and that if you do not behave in this particular manner, then you are somehow not a good enough Hindu.

This is very unfortunate because the philosophical foundations of these traditions run very deep within Indian civilization. They represent centuries upon centuries of gradual intellectual and spiritual development. Hindutva, by contrast, as a form of nationalism—like nationalism more generally—is a relatively recent development. As a political scientist, I would argue that nationalism is a modern phenomenon that emerged largely over the past two centuries alongside processes of modernization. So, what we are witnessing is a kind of tyrannical logic inherent in modern nationalism imposing itself upon a philosophical and religious tradition that is far richer and more historically layered than the rigid framework Hindutva seeks to enforce.

To return to your point about narrowing: yes, there is clearly such a narrowing taking place. But quite remarkably, and intriguingly, the condition is not only being imposed upon Muslims, who remain the principal targets of Hindutva politics. It is also being imposed upon believers within the Hindu philosophical and religious tradition itself, by insisting that this alone is the proper way to be Hindu.

The important thing about India, however, is that many people have pushed back against this. Many have defended the broader spirit of catholicity and the all-encompassing character of Hindu traditions. But yes, this narrowing bandwidth, as I keep describing it, is a matter of profound concern. And one hopes that India will generate a philosophical and intellectual response capable of confronting this particular form of politics.

Populism and Austerity Are Pushing India Toward Fascistic Politics

In your analysis of populism and austerity, you describe Modi’s politics as a “populism of the fiscally tight-fist.” How do welfare schemes, direct transfers, and beneficiary politics reshape the relationship between citizenship, dependency, and political loyalty?

Dr. Amir Ali: That is a good question, and I will try to answer it in two different parts. Let me begin with Mr. Modi’s populism. His populism is not a redistributive form of populism. Rather, it is a populism based on a certain kind of targeted largesse—a targeted distribution of very meager material benefits. This is meant to keep the targeted population at a basic level of subsistence and sufficiently beholden to return and vote for Mr. Modi. That is how his populism functions.

It is unlike, for example, the redistributive populisms of mid-twentieth-century Latin America. What we see instead is a form of populism combined with a very conservative fiscal stance. That is why I describe it as a “fiscally tight-fisted populism.” It is not willing to distribute substantial material benefits broadly. Rather, it relies on the targeted dispersal of very limited material largesse. The purpose is to keep a certain segment of the population beholden to Mr. Modi so that they continue voting for him. The Hindi term for this category of people—the immediate beneficiaries of this populism—is labharthi. In Hindi, labharthi refers to a kind of beholden beneficiary. The logic behind this benefaction is that Mr. Modi’s electoral support base remains consolidated. That is one dimension of his populism.

The other aspect is that it also veers, rather strangely, toward a form of austerity. I am one of those people who believes that austerity is a very dangerous idea. When I describe it that way, I am drawing on the work of the Brown University economic historian Mark Blyth, who famously called austerity a “dangerous idea.” It is dangerous because austerity politics tends to push societies in a much more fascistic direction. This argument about austerity moving politics toward fascism is also made by the Italian economist Clara Mattei in her work on austerity, where she argues that economists invented this idea and paved the road to fascism. So, Mr. Modi’s populism is a very curious mixture: on the one hand, a highly limited and meager distribution of material benefits, and on the other hand, a form of fiscal conservatism—hence my characterization of it as fiscally tight-fisted populism.

The third point I would add is that all of this ultimately leads toward a form of austerity politics. The most recent example came only last week, when Mr. Modi urged Indian citizens to refrain from traveling abroad, to stop buying gold, and appealed to farmers not to purchase fertilizers because fertilizer supplies were allegedly being constrained by developments in the Strait of Hormuz. So, once again, what we saw was Mr. Modi using this language of austerity to engage in a kind of virtue signaling toward the Indian public, telling citizens what they should and should not do.

On the one hand, many of us believe that the government has made a series of poor policy decisions, and then the government turns around and instructs citizens, in an almost didactic manner, about how they ought to behave. So, this is a very unusual form of populism—one that combines populism with austerity. And this fusion of populism and austerity creates a deeply unsettling kind of politics that travels dangerously far down the road toward fascism.

Aspirational Politics Has Fused with Anti-Muslim Otherization

Does the BJP’s model combine neoliberal individual aspiration with majoritarian collectivism? How was this tension visible in the 2026 state elections?

Dr. Amir Ali: To answer that question, let me go back to 2014, when Mr. Modi first came to power at the parliamentary level and became Prime Minister. Around that time, his rhetoric was almost completely devoid of any communal appeal. He was not talking about religious symbolism or anything of that kind. Instead, he consistently emphasized the language of development.

He appealed to an aspirational middle class. The political message being conveyed was that the middle class should improve its standard of living. The aspiration being promoted was a rather narrow one: owning a car, owning a flat, securing a good job, and earning a decent amount of money. There is nothing inherently wrong with those aspirations. But the problem is that this approach denies the idea that politics is ultimately about a broader form of solidarity.

So, I agree with the premise of your question. It is indeed a form of political appeal in which a narrow conception of material advancement is emphasized. But by 2026, this developmental logic — if we can call it that way — had fused with a far more vicious form of what I earlier described as the otherization of Muslims. What we have in India right now is a very curious combination. On the one hand, the BJP’s electoral appeal continues to focus on improving people’s material conditions. But at the same time, in an almost cruel manner, it suggests that the conditions of some people can only improve if the conditions of certain other people are simultaneously degraded. And the group being targeted in this way is obviously Muslims. This particular form of targeting, which became especially visible during the 2026 state assembly elections, was not present when Mr. Modi first came to power in 2014.

So, over these twelve years under Mr. Modi’s leadership, the earlier aspirational appeal has gradually fused with a much harsher political logic—one that implies that the only way for some people to live better is to ensure that others do not. And that, to my mind, is the most worrying and unfortunate development in Indian politics over the past twelve years.

Modi’s ‘People’ Excludes Muslims and Dissenters

Volunteers of Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) on Vijyadashmi festival, a large gathering or annual meeting during Ramanavami a Hindu festival in Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh on October 19, 2018. Photo: Pradeep Gaurs.

You have argued that populism creates a caricature of “the people.” In Modi’s India, who counts as “the people,” and who is rendered suspect, external, or anti-national?

Dr. Amir Ali: The phrase “caricature of the people” actually comes from the political theorist Hannah Arendt in her work The Origins of Totalitarianism. What we see in India right now is the mobilization of a particular kind of highly excitable public. Quite often, this mobilization takes place on the streets. When “the people” are invoked, the term obviously refers to Mr. Modi’s electoral base. It certainly does not include Muslims, nor many of the other groups to whom the Hindutva logic does not appeal. So, this caricature consists of a very voluble, excitable, and frenzied support base that Mr. Modi commands.

Let me give you one example. Recently, a video circulated widely on social media showing a Trinamool Congress politician and Member of Parliament, Mahua Moitra, being heckled on a flight. She is a very prominent and articulate parliamentarian who has been outspoken in her opposition to the regime. When we speak about the caricature of “the people,” it is precisely this kind of public that can be easily mobilized to heckle anyone who opposes the regime’s political agenda. The fact that this incident occurred on a domestic flight is also significant. In India, only a certain section of society can regularly afford air travel. Poor people generally travel by train or bus. So, the fact that this kind of heckling is taking place on flights suggests that the caricature of “the people” includes a sizable segment of people who possess the financial means to travel by air as well.

So, it is not confined only to the labharthi, or the beholden beneficiary. It extends across the economic spectrum. And again, this ability to easily mobilize and rouse people into targeting anyone who opposes the BJP’s political agenda captures, to my mind, what this construction of “the people” is really about.

Let me add one more thing. It is certainly not “We, the People,” the phrase used in the Preamble to the Constitution of India. “We, the People” is a constitutionally mediated appeal to the people; it is not this. What we are seeing instead is a set of people who can very easily be mobilized through the BJP’s mechanisms of political mobilization.

The Opposition Is Playing with Loaded Dice

Do the opposition’s defeats in West Bengal and elsewhere reveal not only organizational weakness, but a deeper inability to articulate an emotionally compelling counter-public to Hindutva nationalism?

Dr. Amir Ali: That is partly true. The opposition does seem to suffer from a lack of political imagination. Its major agenda appears to revolve around constructing some form of anti-Modi platform. But the problem with relying entirely on an anti-Modi position is that it ultimately ends up reinforcing Mr. Modi himself, and the opposition needs to recognize this.

Having said that, I also believe we have now reached a stage in Indian politics where the electoral route has, more or less, been closed off to the opposition. The problem with attempting to play the game of electoral democracy against the BJP is that it resembles playing with loaded dice. The dice are clearly weighted in favor of the BJP, particularly given the enormous resources the party commands. In terms of financial resources alone, the Congress Party is a very distant second.

But beyond the BJP’s sheer material advantages, there is also the manipulation of the electoral mechanism itself in ways that increasingly favor the ruling party. As I mentioned earlier, the Election Commission of India, which was once an exceptionally powerful constitutional institution, no longer appears to possess the same degree of independence, authority, or institutional strength.

So, this is a very bleak situation for the opposition. There is certainly a lack of political imagination. But the more troubling reality is that the political playing field itself is no longer level. It is now so heavily tilted in favor of the BJP that even if the opposition were able to develop a very powerful counter-narrative—which, so far, it has failed to do—it still might not be sufficient to bring the opposition back to power in the foreseeable future. That would be my rather bleak assessment.

India Lacks the Institutional Pushback Seen Elsewhere

How do India’s 2026 state elections compare with global cases such as Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s Turkey, Viktor Orbán’s Hungary, Jair Bolsonaro’s Brazil, or Trump-era America in terms of institutional capture, emotional polarization, and the remaking of “the people”?

Dr. Amir Ali: That is a really good question. Let me take those countries one by one. Turkey, for example—of course, Erdoğan has been in power for over twenty-three years now. There are similarities, but those similarities only go so far.But let me take the case of Bolsonaro and Brazil. The fact that Bolsonaro was voted out of power is significant. Similarly, Mr. Trump was voted out of power after his first term—although he later returned following the Biden interlude. And in Orbán’s Hungary, the fact that Mr. Orbán was eventually voted out of power also represents an important distinction.

What we see in India right now is very different. As far as I can tell, sitting here in late May 2026, I do not see any realistic possibility of Mr. Modi being voted out of power in the foreseeable future. That is the difference with Brazil, where Bolsonaro was removed electorally. That is the difference with Hungary, where Orbán was voted out of power quite decisively. And it is also the difference with the United States, where after the first Trump presidency there was significant institutional pushback. To my mind, that is what fundamentally distinguishes those cases from India.

As a political scientist, I also have not witnessed the kind of institutional pushback that many scholars anticipated would emerge in India. Instead, what we have seen is a kind of complete institutional folding-in. And that represents something deeply unfortunate—something that the framers of the Constitution may never even have envisioned. Back in 1975, when Indira Gandhi imposed the Emergency, which was a very unfortunate chapter in Indian politics, elections were eventually held, and Mrs. Gandhi was voted out of power. Today, however, the possibility of the BJP being voted out of power does not appear to exist anywhere in the near future. And that, to my mind, represents the deeply unfortunate situation in which India currently finds itself.

India Remains in the Mist and Fog of Hindutva Domination

Local people throwing flowers on Volunteers of Hindu nationalist Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) during march past in Vasundhara, Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh on October 19, 2018.

Finally, do these elections indicate the emergence of a durable Hindutva “historic bloc” linking welfare beneficiaries, aspirational middle classes, sections of subaltern groups, and corporate power—or do you see contradictions that could destabilize this project before 2029?

Dr. Amir Ali: I do not see any kind of destabilization of this bloc, as you call it, happening before 2029. I may be wrong, and I hope I am wrong. But right now, what we do see is precisely the kind of mobilization that you referred to. There is a certain form of subaltern Hindutva that Mr. Modi has been able to stitch together.

If I may answer this question with some historical perspective, I would go back three decades. In the 1990s, what prevented the BJP from coming to power was a particular set of social groups in India referred to as the OBCs, the Other Backward Classes. There were political parties opposed to the BJP in Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, the two most important and populous states in northern India, politically speaking.

What we have seen under Mr. Modi has been the ability to bring the OBC vote very much onto the Hindutva side. Earlier, the OBC vote would go to parties such as the Samajwadi Party in Uttar Pradesh, which is still a significant political force, or in Bihar to the Rashtriya Janata Dal under the charismatic politician Lalu Prasad Yadav. 

What has emerged over the last three decades, and especially during Mr. Modi’s twelve years in power, is this very unusual alliance between corporate capital and a certain form of subaltern Hindutva. Now, obviously, contradictions will emerge, because what we have witnessed in India is a very clear transfer of resources toward certain business houses that support Mr. Modi. When these business groups are disproportionately favored, the life prospects of people lower down the social hierarchy are inevitably adversely affected.

When exactly these contradictions will begin to play themselves out politically is anybody’s guess. I do not think one can ever fully predict, prophesy, or foresee politics. But clearly, what we are seeing in India is an economy that is increasingly under strain. There have been decisions taken by the Modi government that have clearly been damaging for the economy.

Ten years ago, for example, there was demonetization, when ninety-seven percent of the currency in circulation was effectively invalidated within six hours in the name of combating terrorism and other stated objectives. There was no convincing economic rationale behind it. So, the contradictions will eventually emerge, especially as the appeasement of corporate capital intensifies and the worsening life conditions of subordinate social groups become too glaring to ignore.

To my mind, however, this would represent a political process much larger than the logic of five-year electoral cycles. That logic of periodic elections is something that Mr. Modi and the BJP have mastered and dominated very effectively. The transformation, when it comes, will not necessarily manifest itself through elections alone, but through a much broader societal transformation. And that transformation is tied to larger global developments. We are witnessing a transformation of the world order itself. It is only within that broader transformation that we may eventually see a major shift within India as well. Perhaps that will ultimately mark the end of Hindutva domination. But right now, we remain very much within the mist and fog of Hindutva domination. We do not yet know how or when it will end.

Stefania Kapronczay

Stefania Kapronczay: Democracy in Hungary Must Not Simply Return, It Must Return in a Better Form

As democracies worldwide confront populism, democratic erosion, and authoritarian normalization, Hungary remains one of the clearest examples of contemporary illiberal transformation. In this interview with the ECPS, Stefania Kapronczay—former director of strategy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union (HCLU)—analyzes how Viktor Orbán’s regime hollowed out democracy while preserving its formal facade. She argues that Orbánism relied not only on institutional capture, but also on reshaping citizens’ “sense of possibility” and portraying human rights as foreign and disconnected from everyday life. Reflecting on democratic repair under the new Tisza administration, Kapronczay insists that “democracy in Hungary must not simply return, it must return in a better form,” emphasizing participation, accountability, civic trust, and democratic renewal beyond mere restoration.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Stefania Kapronczay, former director of strategy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union (HCLU) and one of the leading voices analyzing democratic backsliding, civic resistance, and authoritarian transformation in Central Europe, argues that Hungary’s future cannot simply be defined by a return to the pre-Orbán status quo“My hope,” she says, “is that Hungary can become a case study not simply for returning to democracy, but for rebuilding democracy in a better form—one that not only functions better for people, but also makes people genuinely feel that it works for them.”

In this wide-ranging conversation with the ECPS, Kapronczay reflects on the political, institutional, and psychological legacy of sixteen years of Orbánism and examines what democratic repair may require after one of the most influential illiberal experiments in contemporary Europe. Drawing on years of frontline human rights advocacy under Viktor Orbán’s rule, she argues that Hungary should not be understood as a straightforward democratic collapse, but rather as a sophisticated process of “democratic hollowing-out,” in which “the facade of democracy—elections and even institutions—was preserved,” while institutions were gradually transformed into instruments designed to secure the regime’s long-term survival.

Throughout the interview, Kapronczay emphasizes that Orbánism relied not only on institutional capture, but also on reshaping public consciousness and narrowing citizens’ sense of political possibility. “What fundamentally shifted,” she notes, “was people’s sense of possibility—the belief that, as citizens, they could have an impact on government decision-making.” In her view, the deepest damage inflicted by Orbánism was not merely constitutional or administrative, but cultural and psychological: the successful portrayal of human rights as “foreign,” externally imposed, and disconnected from everyday life.

Kapronczay also offers a powerful analysis of what she calls modern “legalistic authoritarianism,” a system in which “everything appears legal,” institutions formally remain intact, and constitutions are endlessly rewritten in order to preserve political dominance. From electoral manipulation and clientelist dependency networks to propaganda structures and the fusion of party and state resources, she demonstrates how authoritarian resilience can be embedded within formally democratic systems.

At the same time, the interview is not only an analysis of democratic erosion, but also a reflection on democratic recovery. Kapronczay argues that rebuilding democracy requires more than restoring pre-existing institutions. It demands confronting social polarization, rebuilding trust, and creating more participatory forms of democratic governance. “We cannot simply entrust elected representatives with making decisions on our behalf for four years at a time,” she argues, emphasizing the importance of participatory democracy, citizens’ assemblies, and broad civic involvement in constitutional reconstruction.

Importantly, Kapronczay situates Hungary within a broader regional and global context, warning that “authoritarians learn from one another,” while also insisting that civil society must learn to compete not only through principles, but through narrative power, emotional engagement, and citizen mobilization.

As democracies across the world continue to confront populism, democratic erosion, and autocratization; this interview offers both a sobering diagnosis of Orbánism and a compelling vision for democratic renewal beyond mere restoration.

Here is the revised version of our interview with human rights defender Stefania Kapronczay, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Pro-Palestinian protest.

Nakba Day in London: The Fight for the Narrative

In this piece, Dr. João Ferreira Dias examines how the Israeli–Palestinian conflict has increasingly been transformed within Europe into a broader struggle over identity, immigration, Islam, nationalism, and political belonging. Focusing on Nakba Day mobilizations in London, Dr. Dias argues that Gaza now functions as a symbolic battlefield onto which competing ideological camps project their anxieties, fears, and moral claims. For parts of the progressive left, Palestine represents anti-colonial resistance and counter-hegemonic struggle; for the radical populist right, it reinforces narratives of Islamization, multicultural crisis, and civilizational decline. The article ultimately warns that when international conflicts are absorbed into domestic culture wars, liberal democracy itself becomes increasingly polarized, emotionally charged, and politically fragile.

By João Ferreira Dias

On May 16, 2016, London became the stage of a culture war made material, as pro-Palestinian demonstrations and anti-Muslim, anti-immigration mobilizations occupied the same symbolic and physical space. Nakba Day thus became more than a moment of historical remembrance: it fueled social, ideological, and affective polarization.

One may discuss the historical, legal, geopolitical, religious, and humanitarian dimensions of Gaza and the wider Middle East: the long dispute over land, identity, sovereignty, security, and regional spheres of influence. Yet in Western societies, especially in Europe, the Israeli-Palestinian question is increasingly translated into a different grammar: left versus right, oppressor versus oppressed, civilization versus threat, emancipation versus replacement.

For much of the radical and progressive left, the Palestinian cause has become part of a Gramscian counter-hegemonic struggle on behalf of the “silenced voices of the oppressed.” In this framework, Palestine operates as a symbolic capsule of progressivism, anti-colonialism, and resistance, while Israel is cast as the embodiment of the great oppressor: capitalism, colonialism, militarism, and Western domination.

For ultraconservative movements, and especially for the radical populist right, this is precisely the “woke” and “leftist” narrative they claim to be fighting. In their reading, multiculturalism is not a liberal framework for coexistence, but a Trojan horse for Islamization, Sharia, and the so-called “great replacement” of Western societies. The argument is blunt: the left lost its traditional voters and is now replacing them with immigrants, especially Muslims — its new “proletariat.”

This is where the Israeli-Palestinian conflict ceases to be merely an international crisis and becomes an internal struggle over the moral boundaries of the political community. Gaza becomes a mirror. Each side does not only see the Middle East; it sees itself, its enemies, and the future it fears.

The real battle, therefore, is not only over territory, sovereignty, or security. It is over narrative. Who is the victim? Who is the oppressor? Who speaks for humanity? Who threatens civilization? And, above all, who has the authority to define the moral meaning of the conflict?

Liberal democracy is weakened when every external conflict is immediately absorbed into domestic identity wars. The tragedy of Gaza becomes, in Europe, a proxy battlefield for unresolved anxieties about immigration, Islam, colonial memory, antisemitism, multiculturalism, and national decline. The more each side claims moral purity, the less space remains for political judgement.

Stefania Kapronczay is the former director of strategy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union (HCLU) and one of the leading voices analyzing democratic backsliding, civic resistance, and authoritarian transformation in Central Europe.

Stefania Kapronczay: Democracy in Hungary Must Not Simply Return, It Must Return in a Better Form

As democracies worldwide confront populism, democratic erosion, and authoritarian normalization, Hungary remains one of the clearest examples of contemporary illiberal transformation. In this interview with the ECPS, Stefania Kapronczay—former director of strategy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union (HCLU)—analyzes how Viktor Orbán’s regime hollowed out democracy while preserving its formal facade. She argues that Orbánism relied not only on institutional capture, but also on reshaping citizens’ “sense of possibility” and portraying human rights as foreign and disconnected from everyday life. Reflecting on democratic repair under the new Tisza administration, Kapronczay insists that “democracy in Hungary must not simply return, it must return in a better form,” emphasizing participation, accountability, civic trust, and democratic renewal beyond mere restoration.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Stefania Kapronczay, former director of strategy at the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union (HCLU) and one of the leading voices analyzing democratic backsliding, civic resistance, and authoritarian transformation in Central Europe, argues that Hungary’s future cannot simply be defined by a return to the pre-Orbán status quo. “My hope,” she says, “is that Hungary can become a case study not simply for returning to democracy, but for rebuilding democracy in a better form—one that not only functions better for people, but also makes people genuinely feel that it works for them.”

In this wide-ranging conversation with the ECPS, Kapronczay reflects on the political, institutional, and psychological legacy of sixteen years of Orbánism and examines what democratic repair may require after one of the most influential illiberal experiments in contemporary Europe. Drawing on years of frontline human rights advocacy under Viktor Orbán’s rule, she argues that Hungary should not be understood as a straightforward democratic collapse, but rather as a sophisticated process of “democratic hollowing-out,” in which “the facade of democracy—elections and even institutions—was preserved,” while institutions were gradually transformed into instruments designed to secure the regime’s long-term survival.

Throughout the interview, Kapronczay emphasizes that Orbánism relied not only on institutional capture, but also on reshaping public consciousness and narrowing citizens’ sense of political possibility. “What fundamentally shifted,” she notes, “was people’s sense of possibility—the belief that, as citizens, they could have an impact on government decision-making.” In her view, the deepest damage inflicted by Orbánism was not merely constitutional or administrative, but cultural and psychological: the successful portrayal of human rights as “foreign,” externally imposed, and disconnected from everyday life.

Kapronczay also offers a powerful analysis of what she calls modern “legalistic authoritarianism,” a system in which “everything appears legal,” institutions formally remain intact, and constitutions are endlessly rewritten in order to preserve political dominance. From electoral manipulation and clientelist dependency networks to propaganda structures and the fusion of party and state resources, she demonstrates how authoritarian resilience can be embedded within formally democratic systems.

At the same time, the interview is not only an analysis of democratic erosion, but also a reflection on democratic recovery. Kapronczay argues that rebuilding democracy requires more than restoring pre-existing institutions. It demands confronting social polarization, rebuilding trust, and creating more participatory forms of democratic governance. “We cannot simply entrust elected representatives with making decisions on our behalf for four years at a time,” she argues, emphasizing the importance of participatory democracy, citizens’ assemblies, and broad civic involvement in constitutional reconstruction.

Importantly, Kapronczay situates Hungary within a broader regional and global context, warning that “authoritarians learn from one another,” while also insisting that civil society must learn to compete not only through principles, but through narrative power, emotional engagement, and citizen mobilization.

As democracies across the world continue to confront populism, democratic erosion, and autocratization; this interview offers both a sobering diagnosis of Orbánism and a compelling vision for democratic renewal beyond mere restoration.

Here is the revised version of our interview with human rights defender Stefania Kapronczay, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Orbánism Kept Democracy’s Facade While Emptying It Out

Viktor Orbán, Hungary’s Prime Minister, arrives for a meeting with European Union leaders in Brussels, Belgium, on June 22, 2017. Photo: Alexandros Michailidis.

Stefania Kapronczay, welcome! To begin, after sixteen years of Orbán’s rule, should Hungary be understood as a case of democratic breakdown, democratic hollowing-out, or a more subtle transformation in which human rights were formally preserved while substantively emptied of enforceability? What do you see as the deepest and most enduring damage inflicted on Hungary’s human rights architecture—not only institutionally, but socially and culturally?

Stefánia Kapronczay: Thank you so much for this question. It is a very complex one and let me start with the first part: Hungary represents more than a case of democratic hollowing-out. It was very important for the Orbán regime to maintain the facade of democracy. This is also crucial to understanding why he eventually conceded, why elections continued to take place, and why he could ultimately be defeated electorally. Even though the playing field was incredibly uneven and it was extremely difficult to win against Fidesz in an election, significant sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve this result. There could only be one challenger, one contender, which, of course, meant that different voices could not enter the race if the opposition wanted to remove the Orbán regime.

So, this was a form of democratic hollowing-out in which the facade of democracy—elections and even institutions—was preserved, but all of them were adjusted in ways that served the regime’s interests, either through the appointment of political loyalists or through changes to the rules themselves. In the end, these institutions were transformed into mechanisms that allowed Orbán to remain in power for as long as he wished.

As for the second half of your question, I believe the cultural and psychological impact of these sixteen years is the most important. Not because the institutional damage was insignificant, but because the Orbán regime managed to convince ordinary citizens that human rights are not something that matters to them—that they are foreign, imposed from outside, and not something relevant to Hungarians. The regime promoted the idea that human rights have nothing to do with everyday life. By waging cultural wars around migration and LGBT rights, it portrayed human rights as something concerning only “other people,” never the average citizen. 

Even though many LGBT people are themselves ordinary citizens, the regime succeeded in presenting human rights as something alien and externally imposed, disconnected from daily life. In reality, however, human rights emerged precisely from the understanding that protecting rights directly improves people’s lives. If individuals are not discriminated against, they have greater opportunities, and if the state is required to comply with human rights standards, this ultimately leads to a better life for citizens.

This cultural transformation will be even more difficult to reverse than the institutional damage. In my view, human rights should be considered whenever policy decisions are made. And we are still very far from that point today.

Everything Looked Legal, but Justice Became Impossible

In your analysis, Fidesz did not abolish democracy outright but hollowed it out through legal instruments, institutional capture, and narrative control. How should we understand this model of “legalistic authoritarianism” from a human rights perspective?

Stefánia Kapronczay: Yes, as I said before, it all seems legal. It appears to be merely a series of legal changes. The institutions are still there: there is an ombudsman, there is the Constitutional Court, and you can still bring your case before the regular courts. But whenever a case concerns a political question—and everything important to the government eventually becomes political—you have no chance of winning.

This is certainly true for migration and LGBT issues, as I mentioned earlier, but it also became true for freedom of expression cases and even for cases concerning disability rights, particularly when these issues appeared capable of generating public mobilization and when that mobilization, that citizen power, could potentially turn against the government.

So, the facade remains in place. Everything appears legal. They never technically break their own rules, so to speak. Instead, they simply modify the constitution, even for the fifteenth time. But at the same time, this cannot be regarded as compliance with constitutional standards, human rights standards, or international law.

Authoritarianism Depends on Mental Control as Much as Institutions

Viktor Orbán campaign poster ahead of Hungary’s 2026 elections. Photo: Bettina Wagner / Dreamstime.

In your writings, you emphasize that Fidesz’s authoritarian resilience rests not only on institutional capture, but also on shaping citizens’ expectations, incentives, and sense of political possibility. How did Orbánism turn human rights from a universal democratic language into something portrayed as alien, partisan, or elitist?

Stefánia Kapronczay: I think I addressed the second part of your question earlier, so I will focus a bit more on the first. This issue is extremely important. What fundamentally shifted was people’s sense of possibility—the belief that, as citizens, they could have an impact on government decision-making, whether at the local or national level. This was a key element in how Orbán managed to maintain his power. And it was especially powerful for two reasons. First, there was already a historical precedent for it. Before the regime change in 1989–1990, there was essentially a tacit pact between the socialist state and its citizens: you could have a relatively good life—especially compared to other countries in the region and particularly compared to the Soviet Union—but you had to stay out of politics. So, this was a political arrangement with which many people were already familiar.

Just as importantly, for a period of time Fidesz was able to sustain both sides of this arrangement. Economic prospects appeared relatively favorable, and people felt that they were moving ahead. Of course, this was not solely because of the government itself. Hungary received enormous—historically unprecedented—amounts of funding from the European Union, especially between 2010 and 2022.

Even though much of this money was used to enrich government cronies, and a significant share disappeared into corruption instead of being invested in public services such as healthcare or education, people nevertheless experienced improvements in their daily lives because of these funds and the relatively favorable global economy. Compared to their parents’ generation, they felt they had greater stability. Compared to neighboring countries, this was no longer necessarily true, but public opinion surveys and sociological research consistently show that most people do not compare themselves to people in other countries; they compare themselves to their parents’ generation.

After 2022, however, this arrangement could no longer be sustained by the Orbán regime. People increasingly felt in their everyday lives that they were no longer living better, that life had become far more uncertain, and that their livelihoods had become increasingly insecure. At the same time, they began to experience very directly the collapse of public services—whether in transportation, education, healthcare, or elsewhere.

Once this arrangement broke down, the Orbán regime also lost its ability to shape people’s sense of political possibility. More and more people began to feel that the situation was no longer sustainable or acceptable. Then someone emerged who convinced them that things could be different, and their sense of possibility began to shift.

It is very important to observe how something like this—something that is not discussed very often—can become so decisive. We speak a great deal about institutions and formal political structures, but we should pay much more attention to the ways in which the mental architecture of an authoritarian state is maintained. And this is precisely what began to crumble.

The Real Fraud Happened Outside the Polling Stations

Fidesz, Soros.
Poster from political party Fidesz showing the opponents of Hungarian PM Viktor Orban surrounding billionaire philanthropist George Soros, Budapest, April 8, 2017.

You have described Hungary’s elections as a “special version of a stolen election,” where manipulation occurs less through ballot-box fraud than through an unlevel playing field. How should we rethink electoral integrity when abuse is legalized, normalized, and embedded long before election day?

Stefánia Kapronczay: Yes, elections do not happen only on election day. Usually, international institutions come to monitor only during that period—perhaps a few days before the election and a few days afterward. But in Hungary’s case, the manipulation and the systemic nature of how elections were effectively stolen operated every single day. It was not only about the media—how it was captured, how people were fed false information, and how certain information was withheld from them—but also about how Fidesz maintained a clientelist system in which citizens, especially in smaller towns and villages, became dependent on local power structures.

People relied on these structures for social services, for access to schools or nurseries for their children, or simply because they were employed by the local government. This created a system in which citizens were kept in conditions of dependency that could then be exploited. And this system was maintained continuously, every day.

This is something that is very difficult to capture when we discuss the fairness and integrity of elections. It also took civil society quite a long time to fully understand it, because for years much of the focus was on what happened inside the polling stations. But as we monitored the process more closely, we realized that the real fraud was taking place around the polling stations.

Already during the 2019 local government elections, there were initiatives aimed at identifying and disrupting the chain of voter manipulation occurring outside polling stations—practices involving the exploitation of citizens, vote-buying, organized transportation of voters, and various forms of coercion. By 2022, there were already widespread civil society initiatives dedicated to uncovering these practices. And in 2026, this became a major effort involving both civil society organizations and political party activists, as well as ordinary citizens who were present in all the districts where these practices were taking place.

We are still waiting for some of the data, but it seems that they were finally able to break the cycle I described earlier.

State Resources Became Tools of Party Politics

How has the fusion of party, state, public media, regulatory bodies, and state-linked economic networks damaged the practical meaning of political equality and equal citizenship in Hungary?

Stefánia Kapronczay: Just for the readers, what increasingly happened was that Fidesz began using state resources to advance its party-political goals. This became especially visible in 2020 and 2021 during the COVID pandemic, when people had to register in order to receive vaccinations, and later their email addresses were used by the government to distribute government or Fidesz propaganda.

It was also extremely difficult to remove yourself from those mailing lists. There is actually an interesting—perhaps even ironic—story about this. After Tisza came to power, while the old regime was still partially in place, we all received an email from the very same address that had previously been used to send propaganda, explaining how we could finally remove ourselves from the list. Suddenly, it had become very important.

That was an early example, but the practice reached another level during the election campaign. Even before that, there were Fidesz billboards displayed alongside billboards supposedly issued by the government, using the same language, colors, and visual style, making it extremely easy to confuse the two. And that was precisely the point.

Then, in 2026, this escalated even further, as government and state resources were deployed on a massive scale to support Fidesz’s campaign, including the organization of huge events across the country, each costing billions of Hungarian forints.

This is where the line between party and state becomes fundamentally blurred. Yes, citizens vote for a government—for a party that will form a government. But once a party assumes governmental power, it is supposed to represent all citizens, not only those who voted for it. By using government or state resources for partisan political purposes, the government breaks that trust and effectively communicates that it represents only those who agree with it.

But this is not surprising. Already in 2002, after losing the election, former Prime Minister Orbán delivered one of his most infamous speeches, declaring that “the homeland cannot be in opposition,” implying that his political camp alone represented the nation, while those voting for others somehow did not. So, this way of thinking has been present since at least 2002.

The Damage to Civil Society Runs Deeper Than We Realized

The Orbán government repeatedly portrayed NGOs and human rights defenders as “foreign agents,” “Soros mercenaries,” and threats to national sovereignty. How deeply did this stigmatization campaign damage the legitimacy, safety, and public reach of civil society actors? More broadly, how successful was Orbánism in eroding public trust in independent civic organizations, and what forms of democratic and social repair are now needed to rebuild that trust under the Magyar administration?

Stefánia Kapronczay: We are only beginning to understand how deep the damage went. From the everyday experience of civil society organizations, we could already see the effects very clearly. Local governments and schools—because of increasing centralization and because they required approval from the central government for nearly every decision—became unwilling to cooperate with civil society organizations. Even businesses became hesitant to work with NGOs, especially those that were critical of the government or engaged with contentious issues such as child protection.

So, the effects were already visible. Some civil society organizations were ultimately forced to stop operating because of the pressure and administrative burdens placed upon them. Others, such as my former organization, the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union, managed to build a constituency during this period. Because we had resources, both financial and human, we were able to turn some of these attacks into opportunities to rethink our methods and reshape our communication strategies. But this was certainly not the typical experience. And now, after the system change, more and more stories are beginning to emerge.

We already knew that foreign intelligence-linked groups such as Black Cube had been used to discredit civil society actors before the 2022 elections. For example, fake job advertisements were used to lure civil society actors into staged interviews, where they were pressured and manipulated into saying negative things about civil society organizations. Then isolated snippets—sometimes only single sentences—were selectively used to discredit the entire sector.

But now even more troubling revelations are surfacing. Recently, a video emerged involving a very prominent civil society actor working with Roma communities, Roma children, and education. The video revealed that the actual State Secret Service had approached her in an attempt to obtain information about civil society organizations. In the Black Cube case, there has long been strong suspicion that the operation was commissioned by circles close to the government, or perhaps even by the government itself. But in this case, it was directly the State Secret Service that was involved.

This is why I believe a formal process is needed to uncover what happened. I am advocating for a process that draws lessons from Truth and Reconciliation Commissions. I think such a process is necessary for at least three reasons. First,what is currently happening is unfolding largely through media coverage and public debate, and not everyone follows these discussions. In my opinion, it is crucial to design a process that is participatory, that uses language accessible to ordinary people, and that brings these conversations into the places where people actually live and gather, so that society can develop a shared understanding of what happened. It should not remain a conversation limited to elites or to those who regularly consume political media.

The second reason is that there are still enormous numbers of Fidesz voters—at least one or perhaps two million people—who are now beginning to realize that they were misled. It is extremely important that they receive information and are not excluded from the political community. A Truth and Reconciliation Commission–type process could help bring as many of them as possible back into the political community, create a shared understanding of these sixteen years, and allow a society to move forward from there.

And last but not least, I believe such a process is necessary because so many people were harmed by this regime. A formal process could create ways to acknowledge and compensate for those harms, both symbolically and perhaps also in more material terms.

Orbán Went from Feared to Ridiculed

In your analysis of Hungary’s civil society crackdown, you link government attacks to older legacies of political passivity, low institutional trust, and suspicion toward public advocacy. Did Orbánism merely exploit these post-socialist inheritances, or did it actively deepen and weaponize them?

Stefánia Kapronczay: At first, it exploited them, but then it deepened and weaponized them even further. It was not simply a matter of winking at civil society and signaling, “Okay, this is how we are going to operate.” Through hate campaigns targeting certain groups, and more broadly through the demonization of anyone who criticized the government, these sentiments were actively intensified.

And it is very interesting to observe how this form of power actually functioned. Modern autocrats do not primarily operate through torture or enforced disappearances, but rather through the power of narrative. On the one hand, they cultivate fear, self-censorship, and self-correction. On the other hand, they strategically deploy state power—for example, by dismissing teachers who participated in protests in certain ways.

What I also find striking is how this kind of power structure that Orbán created—and that is so characteristic of modern authoritarianism—seemed to evaporate within just two months. He went from being feared to becoming almost ridiculous. And I think this is something we need to study much more carefully.

Democratic Repair Requires Dismantling the Entire System

Peter Magyar.
Péter Magyar addresses supporters near a football stadium and miniature railway in Viktor Orbán’s childhood village, in a symbolic political gesture in Felcsút, Hungary on May 24, 2024: Photo: Dreamstime.

Now that Péter Magyar and the Tisza administration are in power, what should be the first-order priorities of democratic repair after sixteen years of Orbánism: dismantling propaganda structures, restoring judicial independence, reforming electoral institutions, rebuilding media pluralism, protecting civil society, addressing systemic corruption, or repairing public trust and democratic culture?

Stefánia Kapronczay: The difficult thing is that all of these issues are deeply interconnected. That is precisely why Orbánism functioned as a system. You cannot simply pull on one thread and expect the entire structure to unravel. You have to address all of these interconnected elements simultaneously in order for the system itself to break down. And this represents an enormous challenge for the current government. There is an immense amount of hope invested in them, and because of that, people are still relatively patient. But the government will need to demonstrate tangible results quite soon in order to sustain the hope, trust, and patience that citizens have placed in them.

Judging from the public discourse in the country, addressing propaganda is especially important for people, because propaganda was something everyone confronted daily through billboards, media coverage, and constant messaging. So, I think dismantling the propaganda machinery is one particularly urgent priority. Another key priority is demonstrating that public services—healthcare, education, transportation—can actually function better, and delivering visible progress in those areas. The government must also show clearly that it is not willing to compromise with the previous system, and that there will in fact be consequences for the harms that were committed.

These are among the most immediate priorities, although, of course, they touch upon all the issues you mentioned. At the same time, the government also has to rebuild public trust in institutions. So, they must pursue accountability without further damaging trust.

They also need to be extremely careful about polarization and avoid deepening it further. That is why I believe a carefully designed Truth and Reconciliation Commission–type process—one that brings these issues closer to ordinary people and actively involves them—could be extremely beneficial.

And then, in parallel—or at least soon afterward—we also need to begin thinking not only about the past, but about the future. What kind of state do we actually want to build now? What should these institutions look like?

I also believe this must be a deeply participatory process involving citizens as well as civil society organizations. It is not enough simply to hold a referendum at the end. We need people, each contributing according to their own expertise and experience, to participate throughout the process. That is why citizens’ assemblies could play a very important role within the constitution-making process.

Principles Alone Are No Longer Enough

Looking beyond Hungary, how has Orbánism functioned as a regional template for populist and illiberal actors in Central and Eastern Europe, especially in attacks on NGOs, independent media, minority rights, judicial checks, and foreign-funded organizations?

Stefánia Kapronczay: We often say that authoritarians learn from one another, and we can clearly see how certain Russian laws were copied by Hungary and then adapted to the realities of Hungary’s membership in the European Union. I also hear from Slovak and Czech activists that they recognize strong similarities between what their governments are now proposing and what Hungary has already experienced.

The similarities are visible not only in the policies themselves, but also in how these processes begin: first with smear campaigns and public attacks, followed by the use of familiar narratives of stigmatization. The rhetoric is almost always about foreign funding, sovereignty, and alleged external influence. These patterns are very recognizable across the region.

I think NGOs throughout Central and Eastern Europe can learn a great deal from the Hungarian experience, and I believe there are two particularly important lessons

The first is that strength lies in unity. We were able to resist many of these laws and attacks because, at an early stage, we began working together. It was a difficult process, and our first attempts at coalition-building were not always successful. But we learned from those earlier efforts and eventually succeeded in creating effective alliances. That cooperation allowed us to combine our strengths instead of remaining fragmented. Those who were strongest in advocacy focused on advocacy; those skilled at mobilizing citizens concentrated on organizing; others handled communications; and others prepared administrative or legal responses.

The second lesson is that we must understand how crucial citizen mobilization and narrative-building have become in contemporary politics. This is very visible today. If there is at least one similarity between the Tisza and Fidesz governments, it is that both understand the importance of narrative power. Tisza even refers to this as “absolute cinema.” They frame their actions in ways that are easily consumable, emotionally engaging, and rich in symbolism—ways that ordinary citizens can immediately connect with.

And civil society must also recognize this reality. The power of principles alone is not enough. Civil society also has to succeed on the emotional level, through compelling stories and by demonstrating how its principles affect people’s everyday lives. It also has to become more effective at using narrative strategies. I do not think this is something entirely new for civil society. I often look at the American civil rights movement as, in many respects, the first human rights movement. And it used exactly these kinds of tools, adapted to its own historical moment. So, we simply need to recognize that this is not manipulation. It is part of our strength and part of our democratic power.

Democracy Must Return in a Better Form

Finally, if Hungary evolves from being a cautionary tale of democratic backsliding into a case of democratic repair, what would genuine recovery require—constitutionally, socially, and morally—to restore pluralism, civic courage, and belief in human rights after years of normalized illiberalism? Moreover, what lessons could Hungary’s experience offer to other societies confronting populism, democratic erosion, and autocratization?

Stefánia Kapronczay: I would begin from a broader perspective. It is undeniable that democracy is currently in crisis. According to Freedom House, this is now the nineteenth consecutive year in which the number of democracies worldwide has declined.

At the same time, research consistently shows that democracies deliver better outcomes for people and that people genuinely live better in democratic societies. So, while democracy is clearly facing a profound crisis, I remain convinced—not only on a principled level but also based on empirical evidence—that democracy is worth fighting for because it ultimately provides a better quality of life for citizens.

What happened in Hungary in 2010, when Fidesz came to power, also teaches us an important lesson: democracy as it existed at the time—with its institutions and structures—was already struggling to meet citizens’ expectations. That means we have to think seriously about how democracies can function better. I would not consider it a success if, in 2026, Hungary simply returned to the pre-2010 status quo, because that version of democracy was also failing to provide the kind of outcomes people deserved. Economic inequality, for example, still prevented many people from participating meaningfully in public life, which meant that equal citizenship did not truly exist in practice. So, my hope is that Hungary can become a case study not simply for returning to democracy, but for rebuilding democracy in a better form—one that not only functions better for people, but also makes people genuinely feel that it works for them.

Moreover, one of the key elements in this process is participation—participatory democracy. We cannot simply entrust elected representatives with making decisions on our behalf for four years at a time. Expanding participation and deepening citizens’ involvement are essential, because this is how people build relationships with institutions and, consequently, develop trust in them. At the same time, participatory systems allow citizens’ needs, concerns, and aspirations to be incorporated more directly into political decision-making. So, I envision democracies recovering and becoming more resilient if they succeed in creating more meaningful forms of participation and rely less exclusively on the traditional model in which elected officials merely represent citizens from above.

SummerSchool

ECPS Academy Summer School — Europe Between Oceans: The Future of the EU Trade Between the Atlantic and the Indo-Pacific (July 6-10, 2026)

Are you interested in global trade politics and the future of Europe in a shifting world order? Do you want to understand how populism, great-power rivalry, and geopolitical tensions are reshaping EU trade between the Atlantic and the Indo-Pacific? The ECPS Academy Summer School 2026 offers a unique five-day program where leading scholars and policymakers explore the EU’s role in an era of economic uncertainty and strategic competition. Participants will engage in interactive lectures, small-group discussions, and a dynamic simulation game on EU trade strategy, gaining hands-on experience in policy analysis and recommendation drafting. Join an international, multidisciplinary environment, exchange ideas with peers worldwide, earn ECTS credits, and become part of a global network studying populism, political economy, and international relations.

Overview

In today’s rapidly shifting global order, the European Union can no longer afford to think in one direction. For decades, the transatlantic relationship has been the backbone of global trade, built on shared institutions, economic interdependence, and liberal values. Yet this foundation is no longer stable. As highlighted in the ECPS report Populism and the Future of Transatlantic Relations, domestic political polarization and the rise of populism on both sides of the Atlantic are reshaping trade policy, weakening trust, and challenging the very principles of open markets and multilateralism. The EU now faces a critical question: how to remain a global trade power when its closest partner is becoming less predictable.

At the same time, the center of gravity of global trade is shifting toward the Indo-Pacific. This region has become the epicenter of economic dynamism and geopolitical competition, where the future of global trade rules is increasingly being contested. The growing rivalry between the United States and China is not only a security issue but also a trade and technological struggle shaping supply chains, investment flows, and regulatory standards. As the US adopts more unilateral and strategic approaches to trade, moving away from traditional multilateralism, the EU must navigate a complex environment where cooperation, competition, and coercion coexist. Ignoring the transpacific dimension would mean missing where the future of global trade is being written.

For the European Union, the challenge and opportunity lie in managing both arenas simultaneously. The transatlantic relationship remains indispensable for economic scale, regulatory cooperation, and political alignment, while the transpacific region is crucial for diversification, resilience, and strategic autonomy. As scholars increasingly argue, the EU is no longer just a “junior partner” but an actor that must define its own role within a triangular system shaped by US–China competition. To lead in international trade today means mastering this dual engagement: stabilizing relations with the United States while actively shaping the Indo-Pacific order. This requires not only policy innovation but also a new generation of thinkers who understand trade through a geopolitical lens.

Against this backdrop, ECPS Academy Summer School-2026 brings together leading scholars and policymakers to examine how populism and great-power competition are reshaping EU trade policy across both transatlantic and transpacific arenas. 

It offers a unique opportunity to explore:

  • The future of EU–US trade relations in an era of populism
  • The strategic importance of the Indo-Pacific and the US–China trade rivalry for the EU
  • How global trade is being reshaped by geopolitics, security, and ideology
  • The populist discourse around trade, policy, and power, and its implications for the EU’s trade relations
  • It also allows participating in an enjoyable and dynamic simulation game on the EU’s trade relations, trying to bring policy suggestions.

You will learn and actively engage in discussions, develop your own policy ideas, take part in simulation games, have the opportunity to publish on ECPS venues, and become part of an international network working at the intersection of political economy, international relations, and populism studies.

Tentative Program

Day 1 – Monday, July 6, 2026

Theme: The EU in the Global Trade Order: From Liberalism to Geoeconomics

This opening day sets the conceptual stage. It introduces how EU trade policy evolved from embedded liberalism to strategic autonomy, and how trade is now intertwined with security and geopolitics. It also establishes the role of populism and domestic politics in reshaping trade preferences and legitimacy crises in Europe and beyond.

Lecture One: (15:00-16:30) – Evolution of EU Trade Policy and Global Trade Order

Lecturer: Arlo Poletti (Professor of International Relations at the Department of Sociology and Social Research of the University of Trento).

Lecture Two: (17:30-19:00) – Populism, Legitimacy, and the Politicization of Trade

TBC

Day 2 – Tuesday, July 7, 2026

Theme: EU–US Trade Relations under Pressure: Cooperation, Conflict, and Populism

Focuses on the transatlantic pillar, still central but increasingly unstable. It examines tariff disputes, regulatory divergence, and how populist and protectionist politics in the US and Europe challenge long-standing cooperation and WTO-based norms.

Lecture Three: (15:00-16:30) –  Political Economy of EU–US Trade Relations

Lecturer: Erik Jones (Professor of European Studies and International Political Economy, Director of the Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies at the European University Institute and Non-resident Scholar at Carnegie Europe).

Lecture Four: (17:30-19:00) – Populism and the Erosion/Reconfiguration of Transatlantic Trade Cooperation

Lecturer: Alasdair Young (Professor and Neal Family Chair in the Sam Nunn School of International Affairs, Georgia Tech).

 

Day 3 – Wednesday, July 8, 2026 

Theme: The EU Between the US and China: Trade, Power, and Strategic Autonomy

This session introduces the triangular dynamic (EU–US–China) and how the EU navigates between partnership and rivalry. It highlights de-risking, economic security, supply chains, and competing models of globalization.

Lecture Five: (15:00-16:30) – EU–US–China Trade Relations and Global Power Competition

Lecturer:

Lecture Six: (17:30-19:00) – Strategic Autonomy, De-risking, and EU Economic Security Tools

Lecturer: Reuben Wong (Associate Professor, Department of Political Science, National University of Singapore).

Day 4 – Thursday, July 9, 2026

Theme: The Indo-Pacific Turn: EU Trade Strategy in a Shifting Global Centre

This session shifts focus to the transpacific dimension, emphasizing that the future of trade is increasingly shaped in the Indo-Pacific. It explores how US strategies toward China and the region reshape global trade, and how the EU responds through diversification and partnerships.

Lecture Seven: (15:00-16:30) – US Indo-Pacific Strategy and Its Trade Implications

Lecturer: Kristi Govella (Associate Professor of Japanese Politics and International Relations in the Nissan Institute of Japanese Studies and the Oxford School of Global and Area Studies at the University of Oxford). 

Lecture Eight: (17:30-19:00) – EU Engagement in the Indo-Pacific (FTAs, Partnerships, Strategic Positioning)

Lecturer: Axel Berkofsky (Associate Professor at the University of Pavia and Co-Head of the Asia Centre at ISPI).

Day 5 – Friday, July 10, 2026

Theme: The Future of EU Trade Power: Between Fragmentation and Leadership

This session will ask whether the EU can become a global trade power amid fragmentation, populism, and great-power rivalry. It also allows for normative and policy-oriented discussions.

Lecture Nine: (15:00-16:30) –  Scenarios for the Future of Global Trade Governance (Fragmentation vs Reform)

Lecturer: Manfred Elsig (Professor of International Relations and Managing Director of the World Trade Institute of the University of Bern). (TBC)

Lecture Ten: (17:30-19:00) – Can the EU lead? Policy Tools, Regulatory Power, and Global Influence

Lecturer: Markus Kotzur (Professor of European and International Law, Vice Dean for International Relations and Chair for Public Law, European and International Public Law, Hamburg University). 

Methodology

The program will take place on Zoom, consisting of two sessions each day and will last five days. The lectures are complemented by small group discussions and Q&A sessions moderated by experts in the field. Participants will have the opportunity to engage with leading scholars in the field as well as with activists and policymakers working at the forefront of these issues.

The final program with the list of speakers will be announced soon.

Furthermore, this summer school aims to equip attendees with the skills necessary to craft policy suggestions. To this end, a simulation game will be organized on a pressing theme within the broader topic to identify solutions to issues related to the future of the EU trade relations.

Who should apply?

This course is open to master’s and PhD level students and graduates, early career researchers and post-docs from any discipline. The deadline for submitting applications is June 16, 2026. As we can only accept a limited number of applicants, it is advisable to submit applications as early as possible rather than waiting for the deadline.

The applicants should send their CVs to the email address ecps@populismstudies.org with the subject line: ECPS Summer School Application.

We value the high level of diversity in our courses, welcoming applications from people of all backgrounds. 

Evaluation Criteria and Certificate of Attendance

Meeting the assessment criteria is required from all participants aiming to complete the program and receive a certificate of attendance. The evaluation criteria include full attendance and active participation in lectures.

Certificates of attendance will be awarded to participants who attend at least 80% of the sessions. Certificates are sent to students only by email.

Credit

This course is worth 5 ECTS in the European system. If you intend to transfer credit to your home institution, please check the requirements with them before you apply. We will be happy to assist you; however, please be aware that the decision to transfer credit rests with your home institution.

Dr. James Loxton.

Dr. Loxton: Democratic Backsliding Is Driven More by Populism than Authoritarian Successor Parties

Dr. James Loxton argues that today’s democratic backsliding is driven less by authoritarian successor parties than by populist leaders who promise to return power to “the people” but then concentrate it in their own hands. In this ECPS interview, he explains how authoritarian legacies often survive democratization through parties, institutions, networks, and political brands. Yet, looking at Hungary, Turkey, Brazil, and the United States, Dr. Loxton identifies populism as the more significant common thread. He also discusses “authoritarian inheritance,” the appeal of authoritarian nostalgia, and the rise of gray-zone regimes marked by “competitive authoritarianism,” where elections continue but the playing field is “fundamentally uneven and unfair.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Dr. James Loxton, Senior Lecturer in Comparative Politics at the University of Sydney and one of the leading scholars of authoritarianism, democratization, and party politics, argues that the contemporary crisis of democracy cannot be understood simply through the persistence of old authoritarian elites. While much of his influential scholarship has focused on “authoritarian successor parties” and the enduring legacies of dictatorship after democratic transition, Dr. Loxton warns that the principal engine of democratic backsliding today is increasingly populism itself. “When I think about the democratic backsliding occurring across much of the world today,” he tells the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), “I see populism—not authoritarian successor parties—as the more significant common thread.”

In this wide-ranging interview, Dr. Loxton explores why authoritarian actors, institutions, and political cultures so often survive democratization rather than disappear with regime change. Challenging conventional understandings of democratic transition, he argues that most transitions are not revolutionary ruptures in which authoritarian systems are swept away entirely. “It is extremely rare for all aspects of the old regime simply to disappear and be replaced by a completely blank slate,” he explains. Instead, authoritarian legacies persist through constitutions, institutions, party organizations, and political networks that continue operating long after democratization formally occurs.

At the center of Dr. Loxton’s work is the concept of “authoritarian inheritance,” the idea that ties to a former dictatorship can function not only as liabilities but also as electoral assets. “Having roots in a dictatorship can sometimes be as much of an asset as it is a liability for parties operating under democracy,” he argues. In some cases, voters consciously embrace authoritarian legacies because they associate former regimes with “stability,” “order,” or “national strength”. In others, historical memory itself becomes distorted through nostalgia, revisionism, and digital propaganda. Reflecting on cases such as Ferdinand Marcos Jr. in the Philippines and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, Dr. Loxton warns of the growing appeal of what he calls “authoritarian nostalgia parties,” particularly among younger generations with no lived experience of dictatorship.

Yet Dr. Loxton also draws a crucial distinction between authoritarian successor parties and the broader populist dynamics reshaping democratic politics today. Looking at countries such as Hungary, Turkey, Brazil, and the United States, he argues that the deeper pattern is not simply authoritarian continuity but the rise of leaders who campaign against elites in the name of “the people” and then centralize power once in office. “Populist leaders run for office promising to smash the elites and return power to ‘the people,’” he notes. “Then, once in office, they proceed to concentrate power in their own hands and tilt the political playing field in their favor.”

The interview also explores Dr. Loxton’s reflections on “competitive authoritarianism,” the influential concept developed by Steven Levitsky and Lucan A. Way to describe regimes occupying the gray zone between democracy and dictatorship. For Dr. Loxton, these hybrid systems capture one of the defining political realities of the 21st century: democracies increasingly hollowed out not through military coups, but through elections, populism, institutional manipulation, and the gradual erosion of liberal norms from within.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Dr. James Loxton, revised slightly for clarity and flow.

Quinn Slobodian

Prof. Quinn Slobodian: For Musk and Muskism, Democracy Is Yesterday’s Problem

Professor Quinn Slobodian, Professor of International History at Boston University and one of the leading scholars of neoliberalism and the contemporary far right, argues that “Muskism” represents a profound transformation in the relationship between capitalism, technology, and democracy. In an interview with the ECPS, Professor Slobodian contends that Elon Musk embodies a new political-economic order grounded not in liberal individualism but in “a cybernetic understanding of human society” shaped by digital networks, AI, and technocratic management. According to Professor Slobodian, Musk no longer treats democracy as a meaningful political ideal: “For Musk, democracy almost appears to be yesterday’s problem.” The interview explores neoliberalism, authoritarianism, Silicon Valley’s “state symbiosis,” digital sovereignty, and the growing convergence between platform capitalism and far-right populism.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Quinn Slobodian, Professor of International History at Boston University, argues that “Muskism” marks a profound shift in the relationship between capitalism, technology, and democracy. In his view, Elon Musk should not be understood merely as an eccentric billionaire, but as the embodiment of a new political-economic formation built on the infrastructures of platform capitalism, artificial intelligence, military technology, and state dependency.

For Professor Slobodian, Muskism cannot be separated from neoliberalism. “It’s impossible to understand how we arrive at Muskism without considering the effects of neoliberalism,” he explains. Decades of neoliberal policy helped create the conditions under which private actors could assume functions once performed by public institutions. Yet Muskism also departs from classical neoliberalism. Rather than beginning with “consumer sovereignty” or “individual freedom,” it rests on “a kind of cybernetic understanding of human society,” imagining society as “a networked totality that must be engineered and managed to produce optimized outcomes.”

This is where the headline of the interview becomes central. According to Professor Slobodian, Muskism radicalizes neoliberal efforts to constrain democracy, but goes further by treating democracy as increasingly obsolete. While earlier neoliberal thinkers such as Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman remained deeply concerned with democracy as a social force, Musk, he argues, does not even “offer lip service to traditional political ideas such as civil society, deliberation, or representation.” For Musk, these concepts belong to “an outdated era of social and political life” supposedly surpassed by “technological acceleration, digital connectivity, and new forms of mediated decision-making.” As Professor Slobodian puts it starkly: “For Musk, democracy almost appears to be yesterday’s problem.”

The interview also explores Professor Slobodian’s concept of “state symbiosis.” Contrary to the familiar image of Silicon Valley elites as anti-state libertarians, he argues that today’s tech oligarchs increasingly seek not to escape the state but to merge with it. Muskism, in this sense, is not about “withering away the state,” but about selling “sovereignty as a service”—from orbital launches and satellite connectivity to AI tools for state administration.

Professor Slobodian further warns that Muskism represents “a radical departure from the liberal tradition,” replacing ideas of human dignity, agency, and representation with optimization, efficiency, and programmable social systems. At the same time, he situates Muskism within broader far-right and populist transformations, arguing that many contemporary right-wing movements are not simply anti-neoliberal reactions, but “the bastard offspring of neoliberalism itself.”

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Quinn Slobodian, revised slightly for clarity and flow.

Dr. James Loxton.

Dr. Loxton: Democratic Backsliding Is Driven More by Populism than Authoritarian Successor Parties

Dr. James Loxton argues that today’s democratic backsliding is driven less by authoritarian successor parties than by populist leaders who promise to return power to “the people” but then concentrate it in their own hands. In this ECPS interview, he explains how authoritarian legacies often survive democratization through parties, institutions, networks, and political brands. Yet, looking at Hungary, Turkey, Brazil, and the United States, Dr. Loxton identifies populism as the more significant common thread. He also discusses “authoritarian inheritance,” the appeal of authoritarian nostalgia, and the rise of gray-zone regimes marked by “competitive authoritarianism,” where elections continue but the playing field is “fundamentally uneven and unfair.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Dr. James Loxton, Senior Lecturer in Comparative Politics at the University of Sydney and one of the leading scholars of authoritarianism, democratization, and party politics, argues that the contemporary crisis of democracy cannot be understood simply through the persistence of old authoritarian elites. While much of his influential scholarship has focused on “authoritarian successor parties” and the enduring legacies of dictatorship after democratic transition, Dr. Loxton warns that the principal engine of democratic backsliding today is increasingly populism itself. “When I think about the democratic backsliding occurring across much of the world today,” he tells the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), “I see populism—not authoritarian successor parties—as the more significant common thread.”

In this wide-ranging interview, Dr. Loxton explores why authoritarian actors, institutions, and political cultures so often survive democratization rather than disappear with regime change. Challenging conventional understandings of democratic transition, he argues that most transitions are not revolutionary ruptures in which authoritarian systems are swept away entirely. “It is extremely rare for all aspects of the old regime simply to disappear and be replaced by a completely blank slate,” he explains. Instead, authoritarian legacies persist through constitutions, institutions, party organizations, and political networks that continue operating long after democratization formally occurs.

At the center of Dr. Loxton’s work is the concept of “authoritarian inheritance,” the idea that ties to a former dictatorship can function not only as liabilities but also as electoral assets. “Having roots in a dictatorship can sometimes be as much of an asset as it is a liability for parties operating under democracy,” he argues. In some cases, voters consciously embrace authoritarian legacies because they associate former regimes with “stability,” “order,” or “national strength”. In others, historical memory itself becomes distorted through nostalgia, revisionism, and digital propaganda. Reflecting on cases such as Ferdinand Marcos Jr. in the Philippines and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, Dr. Loxton warns of the growing appeal of what he calls “authoritarian nostalgia parties,” particularly among younger generations with no lived experience of dictatorship.

Yet Dr. Loxton also draws a crucial distinction between authoritarian successor parties and the broader populist dynamics reshaping democratic politics today. Looking at countries such as Hungary, Turkey, Brazil, and the United States, he argues that the deeper pattern is not simply authoritarian continuity but the rise of leaders who campaign against elites in the name of “the people” and then centralize power once in office. “Populist leaders run for office promising to smash the elites and return power to ‘the people,’” he notes. “Then, once in office, they proceed to concentrate power in their own hands and tilt the political playing field in their favor.”

The interview also explores Dr. Loxton’s reflections on “competitive authoritarianism,” the influential concept developed by Steven Levitsky and Lucan A. Way to describe regimes occupying the gray zone between democracy and dictatorship. For Dr. Loxton, these hybrid systems capture one of the defining political realities of the 21st century: democracies increasingly hollowed out not through military coups, but through elections, populism, institutional manipulation, and the gradual erosion of liberal norms from within.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Dr. James Loxton, revised slightly for clarity and flow.

Transitions Rarely Begin from a Blank Slate

Campaign propaganda for Peruvian presidential candidate Keiko Fujimori painted on a wall along the Pan-American Highway in Lima, Peru on April 29, 2021. Photo: Christian Inga / Dreamstime.

Dr. Loxton, welcome. Let me begin with a broader question about authoritarian continuity across generations and democratic systems. In your work on authoritarian successor parties, you argue that former regime elites often survive democratization by transforming themselves into competitive democratic actors. To what extent do you think this organizational continuity explains the remarkable intergenerational resilience of authoritarian politics in many contemporary democracies?

Dr. James Loxton: I think a good place to start is by considering what a regime transition actually is. Many people, when they imagine a transition from dictatorship to democracy, picture some kind of big bang in which the old regime is completely obliterated, and a new democratic order is created from scratch. But what I have tried to show in my work—and what many other scholars have demonstrated as well—is that this is almost never the case. It is extremely rare for all aspects of the old regime simply to disappear and be replaced by a completely blank slate. Legacies of the old dictatorship almost always persist in one form or another. In many countries, for example, constitutions created under authoritarian rule continue to be used by democratic governments. That is a very common pattern.

What I have focused on in my own research is political parties that emerge from former dictatorships and continue to operate after a transition to democracy. I call these authoritarian successor parties, and they are extraordinarily common. When I first began studying this topic more than a decade ago, I expected the numbers to be high, but I was still surprised by just how widespread the phenomenon turned out to be.

I examined every new democracy established between the 1970s and 2010 and looked at whether an authoritarian successor party emerged and whether that party was eventually elected back to office. What I found was that in roughly three-quarters of all new democracies, an authoritarian successor party emerged as a viable political actor. In more than half of all new democracies, voters freely and fairly used the ballot box to return the “bad guys” to power. So, this is not a marginal phenomenon at all; it is an incredibly common one.

Authoritarian Inheritance Can Outlive the Dictator

Your concept of “authoritarian inheritance” highlights how former ruling elites retain organizational resources, networks, and legitimacy after democratic transitions. Could we extend this framework to explain why voters in democratic systems continue electing the children, relatives, or political heirs of authoritarian rulers decades after democratization?

Dr. James Loxton: Yes, I think so. The term I use to make sense of authoritarian successor parties is authoritarian inheritance. The basic idea—although it is quite an uncomfortable one, and it certainly makes me uncomfortable—is that having roots in a dictatorship can sometimes be as much of an asset as it is a liability for parties operating under democracy. This can take many forms, ranging from connections to business elites to, more disturbingly, possessing a political brand that voters actually find attractive. Such parties are able to say: “Remember that dictatorship? Remember how you liked it? Well, we are going to continue that legacy. We are going to continue to represent the old regime. Vote for us.”

Let me give you an example. Right now, Peru is in the middle of a presidential election. The first round has already taken place, and the country is now heading into the second round. One of the top two candidates is Keiko Fujimori. She has run for president three times before. On each occasion, she reached the second round and then lost by a very narrow margin. We will see whether she is luckier on her fourth attempt. Who is she? She is the daughter of former Peruvian autocrat Alberto Fujimori, who served as the country’s president-slash-dictator during the 1990s.

In fact, just before our interview, I was looking at her official campaign website. On the very first page, if you scroll down to the bottom, there is a section titled “Positive Legacies,” where she highlights what she views as her father’s major accomplishments—stabilizing the economy, ending hyperinflation, and defeating a powerful guerrilla insurgency in the country. So, she is fully embracing the legacy of her father. Will she get elected? We will see. But it clearly appears to be a message that resonates with many Peruvian voters.

Authoritarian Memory Can Become an Electoral Resource

In “Why We Elect Former Dictators and Their Children,” you suggest that authoritarian legacies can be politically normalized over time. Under what conditions does collective memory fail to generate democratic accountability, allowing authoritarian family dynasties to reinvent themselves electorally rather than remain politically stigmatized?

Dr. James Loxton: I’m going to push back a little bit on the way that question is framed. The idea of “collective memory failing” suggests that if people vote for someone like Keiko Fujimori, or for parties such as the KMT in Taiwan or the PRI in Mexico—former ruling parties of authoritarian regimes—they must somehow be mistaken or have misremembered the past. In some cases, that may indeed be true. But in other cases, it is almost certainly the case that people do remember the old regime, and they simply liked it. They liked the way the old regime operated. They felt safer, they felt things were more stable, things were more predictable. Whatever the reason may be, they simply viewed that period positively. So, now the regime has changed, and citizens are free to vote for whomever they want. Who do they choose? In some cases, they choose the people they already like—whether that means the old ruling party, a family member of the former ruler, or even the former dictator himself.

Democracy Does Not Always Bury the Old Regime

Many authoritarian successor parties appear to thrive not despite democratization, but because of it. Does this suggest that electoral democracy itself may unintentionally provide institutional shelter for authoritarian continuity, especially in weakly institutionalized democracies?

Dr. James Loxton: Again, I think all this really shows is that voters do not always vote the way I might want them to vote, or the way you might want them to vote, or the way the people watching this video might want them to vote. Let’s suppose you are a conservative and would really like everyone always to vote for the Conservative Party. But guess what? Some people vote for the left. Or let’s suppose you are a leftist and want everybody to vote for the Social Democratic Party. Well, many people are conservatives, and so they vote for conservative parties.

Why do I say that, and why do I think this is particularly important when it comes to authoritarian successor parties and, more specifically, former dictators and their children? The reason is that these phenomena involve political actors who run for office under democracy but have roots in former dictatorships. What makes them unique is that, unlike constitutions imposed by former regimes, or amnesties granted to militaries responsible for human rights abuses, these are not institutional arrangements simply forced upon society and made difficult to remove under democracy.

That is not the case with authoritarian successor parties, former dictators, or the children of former dictators. Voters must willingly cast their ballots for these people. And it turns out that this is exactly what happens in most new democracies. In fact, across most of the so-called third-wave democracies—those established from the mid-1970s onward—voters have freely and willingly used the ballot box to support political actors who had some connection to the former dictatorship.

The Greater Danger Today Is Populist Power-Grabbing

US President Donald Trump and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán arrive for a working dinner at the NATO Summit in Brussels, Belgium on July 11, 2018. Photo: Gints Ivuskans / Dreamstime.

Your scholarship frequently emphasizes the “double-edged” nature of authoritarian successor parties: they may stabilize democracy by incorporating former regime actors, yet simultaneously preserve authoritarian enclaves. In today’s context of democratic backsliding, do you believe the balance has shifted more decisively toward the harmful side of that equation?

Dr. James Loxton: What you say is true. Authoritarian successor parties are, in many ways, a double-edged phenomenon. On the one hand, they can be surprisingly helpful because they provide a political voice for people who supported and identified with the old regime. On the other hand, they can also be harmful. They may protect undemocratic constitutions or shield human rights violators from accountability. In some extreme—though actually quite rare—cases, they can undermine the new democracy itself and push the country back toward authoritarianism.

But when I look around the world today at countries such as Hungary until very recently, Turkey, the United States, or Brazil until recently—cases where democracy has either come under severe stress or, in some instances, broken down altogether—I do not see authoritarian successor parties or the children of former dictators as the primary common denominator. Rather, the recurring pattern is that populist leaders run for office promising to smash the elites and return power to “the people.” Then, once in office, they proceed to concentrate power in their own hands and tilt the political playing field in their favor. So, when I think about the democratic backsliding occurring across much of the world today, I see populism—not authoritarian successor parties—as the more significant common thread.

Some Populists Turn Dictatorship into a Golden Age

In recent years, we have seen populist leaders invoke nostalgia for “strong states,” “order,” and “national greatness.” How much of contemporary populism do you see as a repackaging of authoritarian inheritance into emotionally resonant democratic narratives?

Dr. James Loxton: It depends on the case. A common populist message is the promise to “make X great again”—whether that means making America great again, Turkey great again, Hungary great again, or something similar. If a country has an authoritarian past, then celebrating that past can certainly become part of the populist appeal. But that is not true in every case.

At the same time, I find the phenomenon of authoritarian nostalgia both fascinating and extremely widespread. And I want to return to something I mentioned earlier: the idea that voters often do remember the old regime and vote accordingly, even if that may make some of us uncomfortable to acknowledge. However, there are also cases in which the public memory of the past is clearly inaccurate or heavily distorted. The best contemporary example, in my view, is the Philippines under Ferdinand Marcos Jr., or Bongbong Marcos, as he is commonly known.

If we look across authoritarian regimes globally and consider those marked by extreme corruption and incompetence, the Marcos dictatorship ranks very high on the list. This was not a case like Park Chung-hee’s South Korea or the KMT in Taiwan—authoritarian regimes that were undoubtedly repressive but also highly developmental. The Marcos regime was essentially a kleptocracy. Yet, when Bongbong Marcos ran for president, he fully embraced his father’s legacy and presented it as a kind of golden age. He described his father as a genius, while a vast network of supporters produced YouTube videos and social media content portraying the Marcos years in a completely misleading way.

This narrative appears to have resonated with many Filipino voters who were frustrated with the many grievances facing the Philippines today. So, in some cases, people genuinely remember the past and vote accordingly, while in other cases, historical memory itself becomes seriously distorted.

Former Regime Elites Can Colonize the Party System

Your work on authoritarian diasporas argues that former authoritarian elites often disperse across multiple parties after transitions rather than remain concentrated in a single successor organization. Could this fragmentation actually make authoritarian influence more durable and difficult to detect within democratic systems?

Dr. James Loxton: Yes. This is part of a research project I worked on with Timothy Power at Oxford. Tim is an expert on Brazil, which provides a particularly interesting case. In 1985, Brazil’s two-decade-long military regime came to an end, and the country transitioned to democracy. Yet for roughly the next 20 years, the party system remained heavily dominated by figures connected to that military regime. The dictatorship had created an official party and organized elections while still under authoritarian rule. Then, once democratization occurred, politicians from that party dispersed across the political spectrum. In effect, they colonized the broader party system.

Now, the official party of the old regime did continue to exist. It performed relatively well and, in fact, still exists today, although under several different names over the years. But the real influence of the broader authoritarian diaspora—the wider coalition that had governed Brazil during military rule—was far more consequential and far more influential than one might assume simply by looking at the authoritarian successor party itself.

Young Voters Can Embrace Dictatorships They Never Experienced

One of the most striking developments globally is the rehabilitation of authoritarian reputations among younger generations with no lived memory of dictatorship. How should scholars understand the role of generational distance, digital media ecosystems, and historical revisionism in the electoral resurgence of authoritarian heirs?

Dr. James Loxton: The case of Bongbong Marcos in the Philippines is a very clear example. He appears to enjoy substantial support among younger voters. Another example is Bolsonaro in Brazil. Bolsonaro was a relatively low-level figure—a captain in the Brazilian military—and a young man during the years of military rule. Yet he has fully and enthusiastically, and often quite provocatively, embraced the legacy of the old dictatorship. In doing so, he has attracted considerable support from many Brazilian voters, including younger generations.

I find this to be a deeply disturbing phenomenon: people who never directly experienced authoritarian rule nevertheless developing a kind of fantastical understanding of what those regimes were actually like. We see this not only in Brazil and the Philippines, but also in countries such as Spain and Chile. We also see it in what I call “authoritarian nostalgia parties.” These are not necessarily parties that emerged organically from the old regime itself. In many cases, decades have passed since the return to democracy. Yet these parties place nostalgia for the former authoritarian order at the very center of their electoral appeal. And unfortunately, this phenomenon appears to be becoming increasingly common.

Democracy Requires More Than Elections

In “Authoritarianism: A Very Short Introduction,” you discuss authoritarianism not simply as a regime type but as a broader political logic. Do you think contemporary democracies are increasingly experiencing what we might call the “authoritarianization of democratic culture,” even before formal regime breakdown occurs?

Dr. James Loxton: No, actually, in that book I very clearly present authoritarianism as a regime type. An authoritarian regime is one that fails to meet all the criteria associated with what is commonly known as the procedural minimum definition of democracy. To qualify as a democracy, a regime must have free and fair elections, universal suffrage, and protections for a broad range of civil liberties. If any one of those elements is absent, then the regime is not democratic; it is authoritarian.

Authoritarian Actors Do Not Always Need Populism

In several countries, authoritarian successor parties have successfully repositioned themselves as defenders of democracy against allegedly corrupt or dysfunctional democratic elites. Is anti-establishment populism today becoming the primary mechanism through which authoritarian actors regain democratic legitimacy?

Dr. James Loxton: Some authoritarian successor parties do adopt a populist message, presenting themselves as challengers to entrenched elites and claiming to speak on behalf of “the people.” Others, however, do not. It really varies from case to case. Just like politicians more broadly, some choose to campaign as populists, while others pursue very different strategies. Ultimately, it depends on the specific party or candidate in question.

Authoritarian Branding Survives Radio, Television, and X

Your research demonstrates that authoritarian successor parties often inherit organizational advantages such as party brands, territorial networks, and clientelist infrastructures. In the digital age, have these inherited assets become less important than affective polarization, social media mobilization, and charismatic personalization? Or do old authoritarian networks still matter beneath the surface?

Dr. James Loxton: The term authoritarian inheritance functions as a broad umbrella concept encompassing a wide range of assets that authoritarian successor parties—or, in the case of my more recent work, former dictators themselves or their children—can draw upon. Now, some of these assets are probably less important than they once were. I still believe that having a strong territorial organization matters, but perhaps it matters somewhat less in the age of social media and digital communication. However, one element that I think remains just as important as ever is the power of the party brand.

And this brings us back to a deeply uncomfortable—but fundamentally important—idea that we need to take seriously if we want to understand why these actors so often succeed electorally under democracy. The key point is that an association with the old regime may actually function as an asset. Some people may look back at that regime, accurately or inaccurately, and conclude: “You know what? I really liked that. I would like more of it.” That kind of political branding remains highly relevant regardless of whether parties are communicating through radio, television, or X.

Some Regimes Combine Democracy and Dictatorship

Supporters of Brazil’s former President (2019–2022) Jair Bolsonaro hold signs during a demonstration in São Paulo, Brazil, on September 7, 2025. Photo: Dreamstime.

And finally, Dr. James Loxton, if authoritarianism today increasingly survives not through coups, but through elections, constitutional manipulation, and dynastic succession, do we need an entirely new conceptual vocabulary beyond the classic democracy-authoritarianism binary to understand 21st-century regime evolution?

Dr. James Loxton: I’m a student of Steven Levitsky. He was my PhD supervisor, and he has had a profound influence on how I understand politics. Levitsky, together with his longtime collaborator Lucan A. Way, coined the term “competitive authoritarianism” to describe a hybrid regime that combines elements of both democracy and authoritarianism. One of the things I find particularly fascinating is how widely the concept of competitive authoritarianism has spread—not only within academia, but increasingly in broader public discourse as well. You now hear journalists and commentators regularly using the term in mainstream political discussions.

I think this is one of the most important concepts political science has produced over the past few decades because it so effectively captures cases such as Hungary until very recently or Peru in the 1990s. These are systems where elections still exist and where the opposition retains at least some possibility of winning, however limited. Opposition parties continue to operate, and dissenting voices can still communicate their messages—perhaps not through the main state broadcaster, but through alternative forms of media. So, we are not talking about fully closed regimes like Russia or North Korea.

There is genuine political competition, but the playing field is fundamentally uneven and unfair. That is the great danger in countries such as the United States today. In fact, Levitsky and Way argue that the United States is no longer a full democracy and has drifted toward a form of competitive authoritarianism. Similarly, Brazil under Bolsonaro appeared to be moving in that direction, and that is essentially what Hungary became under Fidesz.

So, to be honest, I still find the democracy-versus-dictatorship binary useful. At the same time, I also recognize that some regimes occupy a gray zone in between—systems that combine important features of both democracy and dictatorship.

Professor Quinn Slobodian.

Prof. Slobodian: For Musk and Muskism, Democracy Is Yesterday’s Problem

Professor Quinn Slobodian, Professor of International History at Boston University and one of the leading scholars of neoliberalism and the contemporary far right, argues that “Muskism” represents a profound transformation in the relationship between capitalism, technology, and democracy. In an interview with the ECPS, Professor Slobodian contends that Elon Musk embodies a new political-economic order grounded not in liberal individualism but in “a cybernetic understanding of human society” shaped by digital networks, AI, and technocratic management. According to Professor Slobodian, Musk no longer treats democracy as a meaningful political ideal: “For Musk, democracy almost appears to be yesterday’s problem.” The interview explores neoliberalism, authoritarianism, Silicon Valley’s “state symbiosis,” digital sovereignty, and the growing convergence between platform capitalism and far-right populism.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Quinn Slobodian, Professor of International History at Boston University, argues that “Muskism” marks a profound shift in the relationship between capitalism, technology, and democracy. In his view, Elon Musk should not be understood merely as an eccentric billionaire, but as the embodiment of a new political-economic formation built on the infrastructures of platform capitalism, artificial intelligence, military technology, and state dependency.

For Professor Slobodian, Muskism cannot be separated from neoliberalism. “It’s impossible to understand how we arrive at Muskism without considering the effects of neoliberalism,” he explains. Decades of neoliberal policy helped create the conditions under which private actors could assume functions once performed by public institutions. Yet Muskism also departs from classical neoliberalism. Rather than beginning with “consumer sovereignty” or “individual freedom,” it rests on “a kind of cybernetic understanding of human society,” imagining society as “a networked totality that must be engineered and managed to produce optimized outcomes.”

This is where the headline of the interview becomes central. According to Professor Slobodian, Muskism radicalizes neoliberal efforts to constrain democracy, but goes further by treating democracy as increasingly obsolete. While earlier neoliberal thinkers such as Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman remained deeply concerned with democracy as a social force, Musk, he argues, does not even “offer lip service to traditional political ideas such as civil society, deliberation, or representation.” For Musk, these concepts belong to “an outdated era of social and political life” supposedly surpassed by “technological acceleration, digital connectivity, and new forms of mediated decision-making.” As Professor Slobodian puts it starkly: “For Musk, democracy almost appears to be yesterday’s problem.”

The interview also explores Professor Slobodian’s concept of “state symbiosis.” Contrary to the familiar image of Silicon Valley elites as anti-state libertarians, he argues that today’s tech oligarchs increasingly seek not to escape the state but to merge with it. Muskism, in this sense, is not about “withering away the state,” but about selling “sovereignty as a service”—from orbital launches and satellite connectivity to AI tools for state administration.

Professor Slobodian further warns that Muskism represents “a radical departure from the liberal tradition,” replacing ideas of human dignity, agency, and representation with optimization, efficiency, and programmable social systems. At the same time, he situates Muskism within broader far-right and populist transformations, arguing that many contemporary right-wing movements are not simply anti-neoliberal reactions, but “the bastard offspring of neoliberalism itself.”

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Quinn Slobodian, revised slightly for clarity and flow.

Muskism Begins with the Network, Not the Individual

Professor Slobodian, welcome. In Muskism, you conceptualize Elon Musk less as an individual eccentricity than as the embodiment of an emerging political-economic order. To what extent do you see “Muskism” as a successor to neoliberalism, and to what extent is it better understood as neoliberalism mutating into a post-democratic or neo-feudal formation?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: It’s impossible to understand how we arrive at Muskism without considering the effects of neoliberalism. The basic idea that private actors can perform functions previously carried out by states better than public institutions can is really the premise on which Musk gains his initial foothold in both government and markets. A clear example is SpaceX, which got its start in 2002 through major contracts with the Pentagon and the Department of Defense.

The extent to which power has been transferred to business leaders like Musk is itself a symptom of neoliberalism. What we find distinctive about Muskism, however—and what differentiates it from neoliberalism—is partly the way it justifies itself. Rather than appealing to the language of consumer sovereignty or even individual freedom, Muskism—and this is shared more broadly among his cohort of tech leaders—rests on a kind of cybernetic understanding of human society and even of the relationship between the state and business.

Instead of viewing government as an institution that creates the conditions for individual free-market decision-making, which is the traditional neoliberal position, the Musk approach imagines society as a networked totality that must be engineered and managed to produce optimized outcomes.

So, rather than beginning with the individual, as neoliberalism ultimately does, Muskism begins at the level of the network—and that network is always already digital, a computerized world. In that sense, it feels quite different from the animating ideas of the neoliberal era, even if the extraordinarily concentrated wealth and power of someone like Musk could only emerge after decades of neoliberal policy.

Musk Treats Democracy as Something to Be Hacked

Your work repeatedly emphasizes the “encasement” of markets from democratic interference. Do contemporary tech oligarchs represent a new phase of this neoliberal project—one in which democracy is no longer merely constrained institutionally but rendered technologically obsolete through algorithmic governance and AI-driven administration?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: It does radicalize the trends that I and others have emphasized in the past when talking about neoliberalism, in the sense that it, like neoliberalism, is concerned with constraining the space for citizen input and citizen action to ensure that outcomes align with a preconceived idea of how law and policy should function.

In Globalists and other works, I and others have discussed how the creation of counter-majoritarian institutions and forms of international economic law that sit above the decision-making power of sovereign governments serve to guarantee market outcomes, even in the face of hesitation or resistance from populations. So, there was always this tension between protecting capitalism and respecting democracy. At times, democracy itself seemed to have to be partially suspended in order to secure the kind of capitalist outcomes policymakers wanted. The difference with Musk and Muskism is that there is far less serious consideration of the legitimacy of democracy altogether.

Even thinkers like Friedrich Hayek or Milton Friedman—or, at the more radical end, figures such as Murray Rothbard and the anarcho-capitalist tradition—however wary they were of democracy, majoritarianism, or populism, still understood democracy as something they had to contend with. There was, in a sense, a kind of respect for the social force democracy represented and for the symbolic value it held for ordinary people. What is extraordinary about someone like Elon Musk is that he does not even offer lip service to traditional political ideas such as civil society, deliberation, or representation. These concepts seem to him to belong to an outdated era of social and political life that has been transcended by technological acceleration, digital connectivity, and new forms of mediated decision-making.

So, democracy is no longer even something to be worried about in the way Hayek, for example, was endlessly preoccupied with it. For Musk, democracy almost appears to be yesterday’s problem. The technocratic engineering mentality he brings into politics treats democracy as just another technical issue to be hacked and aligned with one’s own interests.

This also applies to his relationship with the European far right—to perhaps anticipate a question you might ask—because the conventional journalistic interpretation of his ties to figures such as Alice Weidel, Tommy Robinson, or far-right actors in Poland and elsewhere is that they reflect ideological sympathy or a shared commitment to anti-immigrant politics or even white supremacist ideas. But I do not think that is the most accurate way to understand it. I think Musk sees far-right parties in highly functional terms. He views them as the parties of the future, destined to replace the legacy formations of social democracy, Christian democracy, and political centrism.

From that perspective, it makes sense for him to align himself with what he sees as the future engines of European politics—not out of any principled commitment to self-determination or popular sovereignty, but because such alliances are more functional for his business interests.

This very thin understanding of politics—one that treats politics memetically and as a series of engineering problems—is difficult for many people to grasp because we still instinctively assume that popular sovereignty remains an important political force. What is striking about Musk is that he no longer seems to believe it even requires attention.

Silicon Valley No Longer Wants to Escape the State

Silicon Valley Technology Center in San Jose, California. Photo: Joe Sohm / Dreamstime.

You argue that Silicon Valley elites are not anti-state libertarians but proponents of “state symbiosis.” How does this alter conventional understandings of authoritarianism? Are we witnessing the emergence of a privatized authoritarianism in which sovereignty is increasingly outsourced to platform monopolies?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: One of our main goals with the book was to reshape the conversation around Silicon Valley ideology. It has become quite common to describe Silicon Valley leaders as libertarians, and at one point that may indeed have been a reasonably accurate characterization. But that is far less true today.

One important thing to recognize is that digital capitalism has now existed for several decades, and Silicon Valley’s business model has changed dramatically since the mid-1990s, when internet infrastructure was first handed over to private interests. There have essentially been three distinct phases during this period, and the politics associated with Silicon Valley have largely reflected the dominant economic model of each phase.

At the dawn of the internet in the late 1990s, it was still possible to imagine the web as a genuinely de-territorialized space existing outside the boundaries of any single nation-state, enabling radical new forms of interaction, value creation, and community. That vision had a certain plausibility. It also aligned with clear business interests, since companies were attempting to build a parallel digital world of retail and payments. So, when Peter Thiel in the 1990s declared, “I’m a libertarian, and what I’m trying to do at PayPal is create stateless money,” that framing was not entirely implausible. It was a reasonable way to understand what was emerging at the time.

Roughly a decade later, after the dot-com boom and bust, the dominant model became Web 2.0: social media, platforms, apps, Uber, Facebook, Twitter, and so forth. These businesses were largely asset-light. They required relatively little capital expenditure and functioned primarily by creating open digital spaces in which users generated data that could then be monetized through advertising.

Even during that period, Silicon Valley ideology did not need to engage very seriously with the state. These companies portrayed themselves as building a parallel world of socialization and commerce that required little from government beyond permission to continue operating and generating profits.

What changes in the present moment is the rise of generative AI and the renewed focus on hard-tech industries. Just today, for example, there was a report about Anduril—the defense startup focused on drones, missiles, and military logistics—which doubled its valuation over the last year from $30 billion to $60 billion.

Musk now increasingly sees the state itself as his market: selling orbital launches to governments, selling satellites—or access to satellites—for battlefield operations and rural connectivity, and selling XAI chatbot software for government administration. This shift toward military technology and generative AI has fundamentally altered Silicon Valley’s relationship with government, and with it, its political philosophy. It no longer makes much sense to call yourself a libertarian when the government is your primary customer. Nor does libertarianism fit a situation in which companies rely on government to open federal lands for drilling, rewrite regulations, and guarantee preferred access to contracts. The fusion between state and private actors has become impossible to ignore.

At the same time, I do not think it is convincing to interpret all of this simply as the hollowing out or withering away of the state. You asked whether this represents the privatization of sovereignty away from government. We would describe it instead as “sovereignty as a service.” Certain state functions are privatized, but this process simultaneously expands state capacity. Access to low-Earth orbit, for example, or to integrated bureaucratic databases that can be queried across agencies in previously impossible ways—these developments do not diminish state power; they increase it.

Muskism Is About Becoming Part of the State

Caricature: Shutterstock.

For that reason, it is important to understand Musk and Muskism as more than simple forms of rentierism or crony capitalism. Personally, I think terms such as “techno-feudalism” can be misleading because they suggest a backward or regressive form of capitalism in which private actors merely carve out digital fiefdoms and extract rents from dependent populations. That does not really capture what is happening. Countries such as China, Russia, and the United States are, in many respects, becoming more centrally powerful through access to the products and services developed by tech companies. At the same time, however, they are becoming increasingly dependent on those same companies.

This is why the balance of what we call “symbiosis” is so precarious and requires careful attention. It can easily tip into parasitism if the relationship becomes too unbalanced. Conversely, private firms may defect if they feel excessively pressured by their state clients.

We have seen examples of this dynamic even in recent months. The Department of Defense and Pete Hegseth’s staff suddenly declared Anthropic to be a supply-chain risk and sought to remove its software from government systems. Initially, this looked like an assertion of state authority over the private sector. But almost immediately, two things happened: courts ruled against the decision, and other tech firms rallied behind Anthropic, effectively saying, “We do not want to be subjected to arbitrary state decision-making, and we also want collective influence over how our products are used.”

So, what we are seeing is a partnership, an alliance, a fusion—however one chooses to describe it. But it is no longer the libertarian fantasy historically associated with Silicon Valley: escaping the state, building private cities, or founding sovereign communities on decommissioned oil rigs in Honduras. That may have been a plausible understanding of Silicon Valley in 2000, or perhaps even in 2009. But by 2026, the dynamic is much more about becoming part of the state than escaping it.

Tech CEOs Are Not Sovereigns

In your discussion of “sovereignty as a service,” firms such as SpaceX, Palantir, and Starlink appear not simply as contractors but as infrastructural sovereigns. Does this imply a transformation of the Weberian state itself—from a monopoly of legitimate violence to a dependency network mediated by corporate platforms?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: I think we are deliberately stopping short of that argument because we are not saying that Musk, Zuckerberg, and Bezos are sovereigns. They are not.

What is interesting about the DOGE moment we discuss in the final chapter of the book is that it serves as a revealing test case of how far a tech CEO can govern directly in practice. How far can that line actually be pushed? Can the tech lord effectively become the formal national government? What we saw was that Musk was actually quite bad at it. He not only failed to achieve the goals he had set for himself in terms of reducing state costs, but he also failed to secure legitimacy from the American public at a very basic level. His popularity plummeted during his time in Washington, and he did not emerge as a sovereign figure, as it were.

So, to us, the division of labor between traditional governments and tech firms remains essential. Governments still perform the old-fashioned functions of securing consent and legitimacy, and that remains a necessary condition for the expansion of tech leaders’ power. They do not need to govern directly, nor do they need to seize sovereignty for themselves. Contracting out sovereignty—what we describe as selling “subscription sovereignty,” as it were—is not the same thing as actually being sovereign. Those are distinct categories, and it is important to keep them separate. 

Some of the more exaggerated alarm bells surrounding tech power too quickly jump to the conclusion that these figures have become new emperors or kings. But they have not. Nor do they necessarily want to be. What is interesting, of course, is that Musk has called himself “Technoking” at Tesla since 2021 rather than CEO. But in practical terms, these people are not especially good at governing. While governments increasingly outsource certain capacities to tech lords, the tech lords, in turn, outsource governing back to states. So far, that arrangement appears relatively stable and not easily disrupted in any fundamental way.

At the same time, what is fascinating about the present moment is that the disruptive effects of generative AI are creating such intense public attention around new technologies that figures like Dario Amodei and Sam Altman increasingly feel compelled to address populations in quasi-political or quasi-governmental terms. They now say things like, “We have a constitution for our AI,” or “Here is our vision for a public wealth fund,” or “Here is our proposal for fiscal policy.” In that sense, they are increasingly treated as though they are co-governing alongside agencies in Washington, D.C. But practically speaking, I still think there remains at least a horizontal relationship—and perhaps even a slight subordination—of these companies to the state itself.

Musk May Have Overplayed His Hand in Europe

Elon Musk.
Elon Musk—founder and CEO of SpaceX, CEO of Tesla, owner of X (formerly Twitter), and co-founder of Neuralink and OpenAI—speaks at VIVA Technology (VivaTech), June 16, 2023. Photo: Frédéric Legrand / Dreamstime.

Much contemporary scholarship frames democratic backsliding as a crisis driven by populist leaders and illiberal parties. Your analysis suggests that technological infrastructures and billionaire networks may be equally central. Should we rethink democratic erosion less as a purely political phenomenon and more as a reconfiguration of political economy?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: The relationship between Silicon Valley and the far right in Europe is a particularly fascinating one. It also provides another revealing example of the delicate balance between Silicon Valley and existing political parties over the question of who actually governs. In late 2024, when Musk was investing his money and political capital in Trump’s election campaign, he seemed to believe that he could replicate that success almost universally. For a moment, at least, he appeared to think he had acquired a kind of political superpower—the ability to make virtually anyone electorally viable in any political environment. For several months, he attempted to use this supposed superpower to transform even relatively fringe candidates across Europe into credible political figures.

What we have seen since then, however, is that it does not work like a superpower at all. In many cases, it is actually counterproductive. A number of these right-wing parties have built their legitimacy around the language of sovereignty, and they are often damaged when they become too closely associated with an American tech billionaire. Interestingly, some of the transnational support figures like Musk have extended to right-wing populist parties in Europe has actually undermined rather than strengthened their credibility.

The positive side of this development is that it shifts public debate away from purely symbolic issues—or highly distorted narratives about immigration and demographics—and toward questions of political economy, exactly as you suggest.

Europe’s dependence on American-produced technologies is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. This creates a genuine opening for center-left and centrist parties in Europe. If they can demonstrate that they are capable of securing genuine digital sovereignty and data sovereignty vis-à-vis Silicon Valley, that could significantly strengthen their credibility among voters as forces capable of delivering national autonomy, strategic capacity, and political strength. In that sense, the past year has revealed that the Silicon Valley leadership class may, in some respects, have overplayed its hand and unintentionally produced a kind of boomerang effect. As people become more aware of the disruptive consequences of new technologies and of the dependencies created by a small number of tech firms, they are beginning to ask whether alternative arrangements might be possible. Increasingly, it appears that creating substitutes or alternatives to things like Starlink, SpaceX, or X.com is ultimately a matter of political will. None of these systems are inevitable.

We are already beginning to see this shift. France has started moving away from Microsoft products, Denmark is pursuing similar policies, and there is growing interest in Eutelsat as a European low-Earth-orbit alternative to Musk’s satellite infrastructure. These are genuinely praiseworthy developments. They may also provide a more material foundation for thinking about European identity and strategic autonomy in ways that could ultimately weaken some of the messaging power of right-wing populist parties.

Optimization Replaces Individual Freedom in Muskism

To what extent is Muskism compatible with liberalism at all? Is it best understood as an illiberal variant of neoliberalism, or does it represent a more radical break with liberal constitutional traditions altogether?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: Muskism has very little to do with the liberal tradition. In fact, it represents a much more radical break with the broader trajectory of Western political thought stretching from John Locke to the present. Because it is fundamentally a technologically determinist philosophy. It takes the functioning of network technologies—especially computers—as a kind of model for how society itself should be organized and managed. In doing so, central liberal categories such as the dignity of the individual, or the value of human agency and individuality, cease to function as foundational principles. They are displaced by concerns with optimization and efficiency.

In some respects, the closest intellectual tradition it resembles is utilitarianism, insofar as it evaluates social interventions primarily according to outcomes, regardless of their effects on individual freedoms or other normative principles. But because this worldview is fundamentally mediated through the logic of the computer, it also dehumanizes politics. Belief systems become reducible to systems of replicable memes—or, as Musk himself calls them, “mind viruses.” This framework assumes that people do not possess genuine convictions or socially rooted beliefs but instead function as programmable and reprogrammable units of information. Those informational units can either be modified arbitrarily by someone with sufficient coding power or removed from the system altogether, as we saw in Musk’s projects at Twitter and DOGE.

So, in that sense, I do think Muskism represents a radical departure from the liberal tradition. And that is precisely what makes it—while still very much a system that produces inequality and concentrates private power—operate according to fundamentally different premises from the neoliberalism of the last several decades to which we have otherwise become accustomed.

The Far Right Is the Bastard Offspring of Neoliberalism

In your recent writings, you argue that many contemporary far right-populist formations are not anti-neoliberal but “the bastard offspring of neoliberalism itself.” How does this insight complicate dominant narratives that treat populism simply as a backlash against globalization?

Professor Quinn Slobodian: This line of inquiry emerged for me during the period from roughly 2008 to 2018, when the rise of right-wing backlash parties—especially the Alternative for Germany (AfD), but also the Tea Party in the United States and eventually the MAGA movement—was frequently described as a rejection of neoliberalism. What fascinated me was that many of the people deeply involved in these movements actually came out of the libertarian tradition and, in some cases, directly from the think tanks most closely associated with neoliberal policy formation—the Heritage Foundation in the United States, the Institute of Economic Affairs in Britain, and similar institutions.

What I discovered was the rather surprising fact that, after the end of the Cold War, many neoliberals did not believe they had definitively won. Instead, they identified new enemies and new forms of opposition, particularly environmentalism, feminism, and anti-racism. As a result, they began forming alliances with people for whom those issues were primary concerns. Suddenly, individuals primarily committed to economic freedom found themselves working closely with people primarily motivated by racial purity or national chauvinism.

In the United States, this coalition became known as the Paleo Alliance. These were actors who rejected the post-Cold War consensus around democracy promotion and strongly opposed the compromises that had emerged between civil rights movements and the American legal order—affirmative action, workplace harassment laws, and similar reforms. Many neoliberals came to view these developments as a new “road to serfdom,” and therefore believed they needed to push back and seek allies wherever they could find them.

The AfD is, in many ways, a particularly clear example of this dynamic because it effectively united neoliberal economists with Islamophobic right-wing German nationalists. They were bound together by a shared hostility toward the European Union—both because they believed it undermined German monetary sovereignty and because they felt it weakened sovereign control over borders. 

What emerged, then, were these unusual alliances between actors motivated primarily by economic concerns and others driven by cultural or even racial anxieties. If you examine many of the parties associated with Europe’s right-wing backlash, you find that a significant number emerged from precisely this fusion moment of the 1990s and early 2000s.

The same pattern was visible in the United States. If you look at Trump’s economic advisers during his first term, figures such as Arthur Laffer stand out. Laffer had literally advised Reagan on tax cuts in the early 1980s and then returned decades later to help design Trump’s tax cuts.

So, the mainstream narrative—which often portrayed a sharp rupture between an earlier era of market-friendly globalism and a new era of nationalist anti-neoliberalism—missed something important. The political actors themselves often remained the same. What changed was not their entire political worldview, but rather their preferred mode of organizing capitalism.

Associate Professor Emilia Zankina.

Assoc. Prof. Zankina: Radev’s Strategy Is to Walk a Fine Line Between Moscow and Brussels

In this ECPS interview, Associate Professor Emilia Zankina, Dean and Associate Professor of Political Science at Temple University Rome, analyzes Rumen Radev’s rise after Bulgaria’s 2026 parliamentary election. She argues that Radev’s success reflects “growing frustration” with instability and mainstream parties, as well as his ability to combine “the pro-EU versus pro-Russian divide” with the “corruption versus anti-corruption divide.” While Radev presents himself as an anti-corruption reformer and defender of sovereignty, Assoc. Prof. Zankina warns that his strategy is to “walk a fine line—embracing pro-Russian positions on issues such as energy while maintaining pro-EU policies.” Despite persistent Russophilia and political fragmentation, she stresses that “the majority of the Bulgarian population remains fundamentally pro-European.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Bulgaria’s 2026 parliamentary election has opened a new and uncertain chapter in European politics. After years of fragmented parliaments, unstable coalitions, caretaker governments, and anti-corruption protests, Rumen Radev’s Progressive Bulgaria secured a decisive parliamentary majority and unveiled a new cabinet promising stability, institutional reform, and a break with what it describes as Bulgaria’s “oligarchic governance model.” Yet Radev’s rise also raises profound questions about populism, democratic resilience, Euroscepticism, corruption, and Bulgaria’s geopolitical positioning between Brussels and Moscow. Is this a democratic correction against institutional paralysis and elite capture, or the emergence of a more sophisticated form of personalized populist rule within the European Union?

To explore these questions, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke with Associate Professor Emilia Zankina, Dean and Associate Professor of Political Science at Temple University Rome, whose scholarship on populism, democratic backsliding, corruption, and party politics in Eastern Europe offers important insight into Bulgaria’s evolving political landscape.

In this wide-ranging interview, Assoc. Prof. Zankina argues that Radev’s victory reflects “growing frustration among the population with recent instability” and widespread “disillusionment with the mainstream parties.” Yet she stresses that his success rests above all on his ability to merge two enduring cleavages in Bulgarian society: “the pro-EU versus pro-Russian divide” and “the corruption versus anti-corruption divide.” According to Assoc. Prof. Zankina, Radev has successfully positioned himself as both an anti-corruption outsider and a defender of Bulgarian sovereignty, while simultaneously appealing to voters disillusioned with the established political class.

At the center of the discussion is the geopolitical balancing act captured in the headline of this interview. As Assoc. Prof. Zankina explains, “he will try to walk a fine line—embracing pro-Russian positions on issues such as energy while maintaining pro-EU policies, especially in matters related to EU funding.” She repeatedly emphasizes that, despite political fragmentation and persistent pro-Russian sentiment, “the majority of the Bulgarian population remains fundamentally pro-European.” This structural reality, she suggests, places important limits on how far Radev can move Bulgaria away from the European mainstream.

The interview also explores the deeper historical and sociological roots of Bulgarian Russophilia, including Orthodox and Slavic cultural ties, communist-era modernization, energy dependency, and economic anxieties linked to inflation and insecurity. At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Zankina warns against underestimating Radev’s populist strategy. Drawing on her research on Eastern European populism, she argues that Radev exemplifies a “transaction-cost approach” to politics that bypasses formal institutions in favor of direct, personalized leadership and media-centered political communication.

Throughout the conversation, Assoc. Prof. Zankina offers a nuanced and cautious assessment of Bulgaria’s trajectory. While she acknowledges that there is “some genuine political will” for anti-corruption reform, she also warns that oligarchic networks may simply adapt to new political realities. Whether Bulgaria ultimately moves toward democratic renewal or toward a softer form of hybrid governance, she argues, will depend on institutional reforms, opposition cohesion, media pluralism, and the willingness of political elites to resist the temptations of centralized power.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Associate Professor Emilia Zankina, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.