In this interview with the ECPS, Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian offers a penetrating account of Iran at a moment of war, repression, and political uncertainty. As the Israel/US–Iran conflict deepens and succession struggles intensify in Tehran, he argues that the central issue is the systematic erasure of Iranian popular agency. For Dr. Arian, the Islamic Republic has evolved from an ideological revolutionary order into an increasingly militarized system—“basically a killing machine”—while external intervention risks further marginalizing the people in whose name it claims to act. Moving from everyday micropower and censorship to the IRGC’s rise, social humiliation, and the politics of war, he underscores a stark reality: neither foreign powers nor clerical elites genuinely represent the Iranian people.
Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian—Iranian American writer and journalist, and Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Binghamton University—offers a powerful and deeply textured analysis of Iran’s current condition at a moment of extraordinary peril. As the Israel/US–Iran war expands into a broader regional conflict marked by bombardment, civilian displacement, and intensifying regime-change rhetoric, Dr. Arian cautions against narratives that erase the agency of the Iranian people themselves. In a context where President Donald Trump has demanded Iran’s “unconditional surrender,” openly declared an interest in shaping the country’s postwar leadership, and where succession debates have reportedly intensified following the death of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Dr. Arian’s central warning is stark: “neither of them has anything to do with the Iranian people.”
That insistence on popular agency—and on its systematic denial—runs through the interview as a whole. For Dr. Arian, Iran’s predicament cannot be reduced either to foreign pressure alone or to a simplistic image of “clerical rule.” Rather, he describes a political system that has evolved over 47 years from an ideological revolutionary order into something far more militarized, coercive, and socially corrosive. What began with “a very strong ideological core, surrounded by a security apparatus,” he argues, has gradually become “less and less ideological and more and more militarized.” In his starkest formulation, the regime today is “basically a killing machine,” one whose relationship to society has been reduced to a binary of “friend and enemy.”
Yet Dr. Arian’s account is not confined to the spectacular violence of war and mass repression. One of the interview’s greatest strengths lies in its insistence that authoritarian domination in Iran is reproduced through everyday practices, cultural control, and administrative routines. Recalling his own childhood and youth, he explains that in the 1980s and 1990s one “felt the presence of the state almost on your skin.” From school rituals and anti-American iconography to compulsory hijab and the disciplining of bodies, the regime exercised what he calls a “very Foucauldian kind of presence of power in daily life.” The same logic extended into literature and language: censorship, exile, and the weakening of Persian literary culture did not merely restrict expression but also narrowed the horizons of political imagination itself.
At the same time, Dr. Arian foregrounds the uneven social distribution of repression. The Islamic Republic, he notes, presents itself internationally as a defender of “the poor, the wretched of the earth, the underdog,” yet “nobody has suffered at its hands more than the poor.” Women, Baha’is, workers, and peripheral communities have borne disproportionate burdens of exclusion, persecution, and violence.
Against this backdrop, his analysis of the current war is especially sobering. If military intervention deepens, he warns, “the will of the people becomes the last thing that counts.” The core question, then, is not simply whether the regime survives, but whether Iranians themselves can recover political agency from both authoritarian rulers and external powers claiming to act in their name.
In this interview with the ECPS, Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian offers a penetrating account of Iran at a moment of war, repression, and political uncertainty. As the Israel/US–Iran conflict deepens and succession struggles intensify in Tehran, he argues that the central issue is the systematic erasure of Iranian popular agency. For Dr. Arian, the Islamic Republic has evolved from an ideological revolutionary order into an increasingly militarized system—“basically a killing machine”—while external intervention risks further marginalizing the people in whose name it claims to act. Moving from everyday micropower and censorship to the IRGC’s rise, social humiliation, and the politics of war, he underscores a stark reality: neither foreign powers nor clerical elites genuinely represent the Iranian people.
Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian—Iranian American writer and journalist, and Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Binghamton University—offers a powerful and deeply textured analysis of Iran’s current condition at a moment of extraordinary peril. As the Israel/US–Iran war expands into a broader regional conflict marked by bombardment, civilian displacement, and intensifying regime-change rhetoric, Dr. Arian cautions against narratives that erase the agency of the Iranian people themselves. In a context where President Donald Trump has demanded Iran’s “unconditional surrender,” openly declared an interest in shaping the country’s postwar leadership, and where succession debates have reportedly intensified following the death of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Dr. Arian’s central warning is stark: “neither of them has anything to do with the Iranian people.”
That insistence on popular agency—and on its systematic denial—runs through the interview as a whole. For Dr. Arian, Iran’s predicament cannot be reduced either to foreign pressure alone or to a simplistic image of “clerical rule.” Rather, he describes a political system that has evolved over 47 years from an ideological revolutionary order into something far more militarized, coercive, and socially corrosive. What began with “a very strong ideological core, surrounded by a security apparatus,” he argues, has gradually become “less and less ideological and more and more militarized.” In his starkest formulation, the regime today is “basically a killing machine,” one whose relationship to society has been reduced to a binary of “friend and enemy.”
Yet Dr. Arian’s account is not confined to the spectacular violence of war and mass repression. One of the interview’s greatest strengths lies in its insistence that authoritarian domination in Iran is reproduced through everyday practices, cultural control, and administrative routines. Recalling his own childhood and youth, he explains that in the 1980s and 1990s one “felt the presence of the state almost on your skin.” From school rituals and anti-American iconography to compulsory hijab and the disciplining of bodies, the regime exercised what he calls a “very Foucauldian kind of presence of power in daily life.” The same logic extended into literature and language: censorship, exile, and the weakening of Persian literary culture did not merely restrict expression but also narrowed the horizons of political imagination itself.
At the same time, Dr. Arian foregrounds the uneven social distribution of repression. The Islamic Republic, he notes, presents itself internationally as a defender of “the poor, the wretched of the earth, the underdog,” yet “nobody has suffered at its hands more than the poor.” Women, Baha’is, workers, and peripheral communities have borne disproportionate burdens of exclusion, persecution, and violence.
Against this backdrop, his analysis of the current war is especially sobering. If military intervention deepens, he warns, “the will of the people becomes the last thing that counts.” The core question, then, is not simply whether the regime survives, but whether Iranians themselves can recover political agency from both authoritarian rulers and external powers claiming to act in their name.
Here is the edited version of our interview with Assistant Professor Amir Ahmed Arian, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.
Iran Regime’s Presence Felt Omnipresent
Billboard depicting Ayatollah Sayyid Ali Hosseini Khamenei and Imam Sayyid Ruhollah Musavi Khomeini on a building wall in Tehran, Iran, April 2018. The portraits honor the founder of the Islamic Republic, Ruhollah Khomeini (Supreme Leader 1979–1989), and his successor Ali Khamenei (Supreme Leader 1989–2026), whose images frequently appear in public spaces as symbols of the regime’s ideological authority. Photo: Dreamstime.
Professor Amir Ahmed Arian, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Having grown up and begun your literary career inside Iran, how would you describe the everyday texture of life under Iran’s clerical-authoritarian system? At the level of routines—schooling, workplaces, gender norms, religion, and bureaucracy—how do these micro-practices reproduce obedience, negotiation, or subtle forms of resistance?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: In Iran, one caveat I have to give at the beginning—which will apply to all my answers—is that when we talk about the Islamic Republic, we are talking about 47 years of rule by this political system, and it has evolved and changed a lot over time. So, the practices that you mentioned—the way they were conducted in the 1980s and the 1990s—are very different from those in 2000 or 2010. The rulers have changed a lot as well. Depending on who the president was, society changed dramatically. And even more importantly, Iranian society itself sheds its skin very quickly, generation after generation.
What you see among young people now—this generation—has very little to do with my generation. People who were born around the time of the revolution are now middle-aged, and the twenty-somethings today do not really listen to us or care much about what we think. So, what I am saying is mainly founded on my own personal experience growing up there. I left Iran in 2011, and over the last fifteen years the country has changed quite dramatically. So, what I say is less a comprehensive analysis of what is going on in Iran and more an account based on my own personal experience.
To answer your question, growing up in Iran in the 1980s and the 1990s, you really did feel the presence of the state, because that was the strictest period after the revolution. After the reformist movement in the late 1990s, things began to open up. But in those first two decades, you felt the presence of the state almost on your skin.
It was overwhelming and omnipresent all the time. To give you one example, the way they tried to inculcate their foreign policy in the mind of a child was that throughout my education—during elementary school, high school, and later in college, when I attended the University of Tehran—there were massive flags of the US and Israel painted on the ground in front of the gates of all those institutions.
So, when you walked into the school or through the university gate, you could not even enter without stepping on them. Imagine doing that for twelve years in school and then five years in college—almost every day. Not just me, but millions of children across the country stepped on the US and Israeli flags in order to enter school. Just imagine what that does to your unconscious mind—how it shapes the way you see the world unwittingly, beyond what you consciously know or learn.
For women especially, there was another, much more aggressive layer, which was the compulsory hijab. This started in elementary school. Six-year-old girls had to wear uniforms and maghnaeh, these tight scarves, and they had to keep them on throughout the day. Of course, in public spaces there was also a very strict dress code for women. Women could not appear in the street without complying with it. I do not think anything embodies the aggressive presence of the state in all aspects of daily life as clearly as the compulsory hijab.
These are just two small examples.
The way the system worked was that, instead of relying only on a top-down system of propaganda, there was also the presence of micropower spread throughout society. These mechanisms were designed to strictly control bodies and constantly remind you that the state is here, and the state is watching you. So, it was a very Foucauldian kind of presence of power in daily life.
Iran’s System Is Not Just Clerical Rule—It Is a Militarized Security State
Analysts often reduce Iran’s system to “clerical rule,” yet your work suggests a far more complex configuration of institutions. How should we conceptualize the Iranian regime today—as a theocratic regime, a bureaucratic-security state, or a hybrid authoritarian system combining ideology, patronage networks, and coercive institutions?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: It’s basically all of the above. From the beginning of the revolution, the system has had a very strong ideological core, surrounded by a security apparatus. And you have the Revolutionary Guards, which constitute a very complicated and vast network of people. Within it, there are individuals who are completely cynical and technocratic, or those who are there to run their own businesses through military means, as well as truly apocalyptic warriors who want to bring about Armageddon and believe they are involved in some sort of end-of-the-world battle.
In between, you have all kinds of government bureaucracies and institutions that try to find a foothold in this network.
But the point is that, as time has gone on—from the beginning of the revolution to now, over these 47 years—the Iranian government has become less and less ideological and more and more militarized. So right now, more than anything, it resembles something like a European fascist regime in the 1930s and 1940s, one that was completely reduced to security forces. It is basically a killing machine. And the last moment when we saw that very clearly was this January.
On January 8 and 9, they opened fire with live ammunition on unarmed protesters all over the country and killed at least 8,000 people. I know that number is very contested, but at this point we have 8,000 names identified without a shadow of doubt. The organization that documented this is also working on verifying 11,000 more names. Many of them are already partially verified, but the process of full verification is ongoing. So even if half of that is true, we are looking at a five-digit death toll in basically 36 hours, which would make it the bloodiest massacre a state has committed against its own population in modern history.
That alone should make it very clear that the ideological façade and the bureaucratic elements are collapsing. The ideological façade is gone, because what they did then cannot be justified by any religious doctrine—or, frankly, by any ideological doctrine other than some form of fascism, perhaps something like Shia fascism. And the bureaucratic veneer is also very thin now; I would even argue that it has largely disappeared. Because no reasonable governing entity—whether a state or any other governing body—would do that simply to control society. You only do that when you see your own people as the enemy. There is really no other explanation.
So right now, the system has been reduced to a very hardcore security corps composed of armed elements of the Basij, the Revolutionary Guards, and parts of the police. And their relationship with the Iranian people is essentially one of friend and enemy. You are either in their camp, or you are not. And if you are not, they are out there to eliminate you. They do not really want you to exist anymore. So, of all the political systems that have existed, from what little I know of European history, they remind me of Franco’s regime in Spain—something that functions in a very similar way or resembles certain forms of 20th-century fascism.
The Revolutionary Guards Have Become a Military–Political–Economic Juggernaut
Platoon of Iranian army soldiers carrying the flag of the Islamic Republic of Iran during the international military competition ARMY-2018 in Pesochnoye, Kostroma Region, Russia, June 2018. Photo: Dreamstime.
The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps occupies a central position in Iran’s political and economic life. Should the IRGC be understood primarily as a military institution, a security apparatus, a sprawling economic conglomerate, or even a ruling class? What does its economic embeddedness mean for reform, regime durability, or potential transition?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: So again, that’s another case with the IRGC, or the Sepah. It started off as a military organization at the beginning of the revolution, mainly to help the official army during the Iran–Iraq War. It was almost exclusively military in the beginning. Then, as time went on, it started consolidating power, accruing more and more influence through the decades. This became especially evident during the reformist movement, because the commanders of the IRGC were opposed to Khatami and the reformists in power, as well as to the political elite that came to power in the late 1990s. After that, they decided to become increasingly involved in politics.
Another turning point came later with the economic sanctions imposed after the controversy surrounding Iran’s nuclear program. Following these disputes, Western countries began imposing some of the harshest sanctions in the world on Iran. As we know, such conditions often become a recipe for corruption. In my view, these sanctions cast something like a net over Iran’s economy. They disrupted the natural flow of exports and imports, especially oil exports. However, there was a significant hole in this net: Iran’s access to China. China was simply too powerful to fully comply with the sanctions and follow the United States’ lead, so it continued to purchase oil from Iran. Because China has an enormous and constant appetite for energy, Iran could sell oil to it below market price and still sell large volumes. As a result, even under very harsh sanctions, Iran was still able to generate a considerable amount of revenue through oil sales to China.
The problem, however, was that this revenue flowed through only one channel: the Revolutionary Guards. As a result, large segments of the economy gradually became concentrated in their hands, which almost inevitably led to corruption. Over time, within the ranks of the Revolutionary Guards, you can see an oligarchy beginning to take shape. And not just within the Revolutionary Guards—the broader political elite, especially their children and relatives, also joined this oligarchic network. Perhaps a few thousand people became involved in the export and import of oil with very little accountability. As a result, they began making themselves extremely rich, often at the expense of the well-being of ordinary Iranians and their daily lives.
At that point—perhaps by the mid-2010s—you could see that the Revolutionary Guards, which had started as a military organization and later evolved into a military–political organization, were becoming a military–political–economic juggernaut. It became something like an octopus, with tentacles reaching into almost every aspect of Iranian society, and that has continued to be the case until now.
Humiliation Is One of the Main Engines of Protest in Iran
Your writings frequently evoke emotions such as humiliation, anger, fear, and exhaustion. How do these affective dimensions shape political mobilization in Iran? In particular, how do humiliation and generational frustration interact with social fatigue to influence the timing and intensity of protest movements?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think humiliation is really key, especially if you watch the state media in Iran. It is a relentless and non-stop process of insulting your intelligence through the way propaganda is produced. It is really as absurd as looking at the sky in broad daylight while the TV tells you that it is nighttime. And they say it very aggressively, with zero respect for the intelligence and dignity of their audience.
Iranians are very well aware of the source of their problems. They know that the main source of their misery is their rulers, the Islamic Republic. Yes, sanctions have contributed heavily. The hostility from Israel, all the stories about the nuclear program—some exaggerated, some fabricated—and the accusations coming from a state that possesses far more nuclear weapons than Iran will ever have all contain a degree of hypocrisy. Iranians recognize that. But when you look at the political landscape of Iran, it is very clear to everyone that most of what we have gone through is the responsibility of the Islamic Republic. And the rulers know that too. It is not a secret to them.
But for 47 years, you look at their behavior and see that they have not taken a single step toward the people of Iran. Not one. They have never shown any willingness to make concessions to civil society or to protesters in the streets. They have never demonstrated any real interest in listening to them. Every time people have come out to protest, the regime initially responded with batons, and as protests intensified, with bullets. And we saw just last month what a wholesale massacre was essentially.
Even today, they continue to deny most of their responsibility for the absolute disaster they have inflicted on Iranian lives. So, when you look at this while living inside Iran, you see a government responsible for the immiseration of multiple generations yet unwilling to take even a shred of responsibility for what it has done. They have shown no willingness to change course.
This is the frustration, the rage, and the humiliation that it instills. And it can very easily boil over and drive people into the streets.
Iranians know how brutal their rulers are, how willing the regime is to kill them, and yet protests continue. In fact, you have rarely seen street protests as frequently anywhere in the world as in Iran over the past 10 or 15 years. Every couple of years there is a major wave of mass protest—whether over economic conditions, the compulsory hijab, or other issues.
Each time, people know they will be met with extreme violence, with bullets and batons. Every time they go out into the streets, they know they may never return home. Yet they still do it, because the sense of humiliation and frustration runs so deep that, in their minds, risking death can feel worthwhile simply to express it publicly.
Iranian woman standing in middle of Iranian protests for equal rights for women. Burning headscarves in protest against the government. Illustration: Digital Asset Art.
Women, Minorities, and the Poor Bear the Heaviest Burdens of Repression
For those who challenge the regime—writers, activists, workers, or ordinary protesters—what does the spectrum of repression look like in practice? How are risks such as censorship, economic exclusion, detention, torture, or exile distributed across class, gender, ethnicity, and geography?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: Probably the biggest irony of the Islamic Republic is that its outward presence to the world—its public face—and unfortunately many in the West buy into that, especially people on the left, is that it presents itself as standing up for the poor, for the wretched of the earth, for the underdog, for the downtrodden, and so on. So, it defines itself as one of the few states in the world that stands with the underdog. But when you go inside Iran, nobody has suffered at its hands more than the poor, working people, and those who do not have the means to make ends meet.
And this has been the case for decades, at least since the 1990s. You could argue that in the 1980s the regime implemented some policies aimed at creating a degree of economic equality. But definitely since the 1990s, after the death of Ayatollah Khomeini, it has essentially operated as an economic system that consistently favors the rich while suppressing the poor. It has only worsened over time, and as I mentioned earlier, the sanctions have also contributed to this dynamic.
So if you are poor—and there is a reason why in more recent demonstrations and protests you see more working people and poor citizens from the margins of society, from smaller towns near the borders where poverty is particularly severe—those are often the people who take to the streets and risk their lives more than people in the major cities. That was not the case back in 2009 during the Green Movement.
Then, of course, there are religious minorities, especially the Baha’is. It is actually a principle of their religion not to engage in political activism, so they have never posed any significant threat to the political order in Iran. Yet, because of the dogmatism and fanaticism of the Shia clerics in power, that community has been persecuted more savagely than almost any other group.
So, you have the persecution of the poor through economic means, the persecution of the Baha’is for religious reasons, and of course the situation of women, who have effectively been treated as second-class citizens since the beginning of the revolution. They have been fighting for very basic rights for a very long time. And just three years ago, during the Women, Life, Freedom movement, they finally managed to force the state to abandon the enforcement of compulsory hijab—though at enormous cost—after months of civil protests across the country.
So, this is also a form of gender apartheid. You have extreme economic discrimination against the poor, religious discrimination against minorities, and what amounts to a flat-out system of gender apartheid from which women have suffered enormously over the last half century.
Iran Regime Is Not a Well-Oiled Machine, It Is Corroded by Corruption
You have often suggested that repression in Iran operates through mundane institutional routines rather than overt ideological fanaticism. To what extent does this resemble Hannah Arendt’s notion of the “banality of evil,” where ordinary bureaucratic practices normalize authoritarian violence?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think there is an important difference there. In Arendt’s articulation of the banality of evil, it emerges from a bureaucratic machine that actually functions extremely well. You have a system whose cogs rotate together very efficiently. The Nazi extermination process was, in that sense, a highly organized and well-oiled machine. Every officer was a small cog within that machine, carrying out their assigned tasks without really reflecting on the consequences of what they were doing.
In the case of Iran, however, what you see is incompetence—sheer incompetence. Part of the problem is that the state has essentially collapsed, and its bureaucratic institutions are no longer functioning properly. There is so much corruption, so much nepotism, and so much discrimination based on factors such as religious beliefs, social background, or political loyalty—especially when it comes to employment in government institutions, even in very basic administrative matters.
Over time, this has corroded the system of governance to such an extent that it simply no longer works effectively. Even very simple things—like renewing a driver’s license or dealing with routine banking procedures—can become extremely frustrating experiences when you live inside Iran.
So, the way government authority grates on people’s nerves stems less from a highly efficient bureaucratic machine and more from pervasive incompetence and corruption, rather than from a system operating smoothly but devoid of moral reflection.
No One Has Damaged Persian Literature More Than the Islamic Republic
Drawing on your own experience with literary censorship, how does the state’s control over cultural production shape not only what can be said publicly but also what can be imagined politically? In other words, how does censorship function as a technology of power over narrative and collective imagination?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: There is another irony here. The state in Iran has always prided itself on having a kind of nationalist element. They made a great deal out of independence when you go back to the beginning of the revolution. The main slogan was “Independence, freedom, the Islamic Republic.” So, independence came first. There was always a kind of Islamic nationalism embedded within the discourse. And the Persian language was always part of that. Especially Mr. Khamenei, the supreme leader who was recently killed—he was very much into Persian poetry. He was a very skilled orator, a very good speaker, and he knew Persian very well. They were enamored with Persian literature and the history of Persian poetry, and so on. Yet no one has damaged the Persian language or launched such a profound assault on Persian literature as the Islamic Republic has through censorship.
I am just one example. Until I was 30 years old, I was a writer in Iran. I published a number of books and many articles, and I loved writing in my mother tongue. But they basically forced me out of Iran. At some point after the Green Movement, it became impossible to continue living there. So, I had to move out of Iran—first to Australia and then to the United States—and I had to switch to writing in English.
I am just one small example. I could have contributed to that language and to that literary culture. I could have added something to it. I was doing well there as a writer. But over extremely small and trivial issues, the censorship office started banning my books, and they effectively took away my job as a newspaper writer. So, I had to leave. And I am just one example among thousands of writers like me who loved that language and that culture and were more than willing to contribute to it and devote their lives to it. But the state did not want us around.
Through censorship, what has happened is an extreme weakening of the Persian language itself. When you talk about political imagination, language is crucial. When a language is battered for so long—when it has been depleted of its resources through censorship for half a century—it inevitably loses many of its tools. Its toolbox becomes depleted.
Some of those tools have started to return since the emergence of the internet, but it is very different to have a formal written culture in a society than to have a writing culture mainly on social media. These are two very different phenomena.
What the state has done is to erode the abilities and capabilities of the Persian language, which historically has been a very strong force in maintaining the fabric of Iranian society. Through that erosion, they have negatively affected not only Iranian culture and literature but also the broader cohesion of Iranian society as a whole.
Military Intervention Often Pushes the Will of the People to the Margins
Large poster of Mahsa Amini displayed by the Iranian Diaspora Collective in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City, November 23, 2022. Photo: Erin Alexis Randolph / Dreamstime.
In the context of the ongoing confrontation between Iran and the US–Israel alliance, how might external military pressure reshape internal political dynamics? Historically, do wars weaken authoritarian regimes by exposing their fragility, or strengthen them by mobilizing nationalism and securitizing dissent?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: It is very hard to say now. We are right in the middle of the war, and it is very unclear how it will turn out—at least it is unclear to me. Right now, there are so many contradictory accounts and reports about who has the upper hand, whose military is in a weaker position, who is running out of ammunition, and who is running out of defensive shields, and so on. So, it is very difficult to draw conclusions at this point.
But at the end of the day, we have many examples of military intervention, especially in Middle Eastern countries, and none of them have ended well. The way events are unfolding now can already be seen in the recent quarrel over the selection of the next Supreme Leader.
The Assembly—the council of elders, as it is sometimes called in Iran—consists of the people who choose the next leader. There are about 80 very old clerics, all men and all clerics. They are very old and do not represent Iranian society in any meaningful way. In fact, they are about as far removed from Iranian society as possible, yet they are tasked with choosing the next leader. So, whoever they choose will have nothing to do with the Iranian people. It does not matter who it is; it is simply not a democratic process.
On the other hand, you have Donald Trump, who just yesterday said that he wants to have a say in choosing the next Supreme Leader of Iran. He almost sounded as if he meant it, so I will take him at his word. He said something like, “I need to be there when they choose the next Supreme Leader. I want to have a say.”
So, you see two entities talking about selecting the Supreme Leader—the highest political position in Iran—and neither of them has anything to do with the Iranian people. This is often what happens in the aftermath of military intervention. The will of the people becomes the last thing that counts. The agency of the Iranian population is already pushed aside, unless, after this war, they somehow manage to reclaim it.
A Political Vacuum Could Activate Long-Dormant Ethnic Fault Lines
One of the most catastrophic scenarios involves state fragmentation, separatist mobilization, and armed conflict across border regions. Given Iran’s complex ethnic landscape—including Kurds, Baluch, Arabs, Azeris, etc.—how real is the risk of civil conflict if state authority weakens, and what might a pluralistic settlement look like in such conditions?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: That’s another thing I can’t really say. I have no idea how that will turn out. Iran is a little different from other Middle Eastern countries that have this sort of ethnic tension, in that it has existed within roughly the same borders for about 400 years now. I mean, it has lost some territories over time, but since the Safavid era in the 17th century, Iran has largely remained the same territorial entity that it is today. It is smaller than it was back then, but the core of the country has remained intact.
In this area, all of the ethnic minorities you mentioned have been living together fairly peacefully for hundreds of years. So, Iran is not a colonial construction in the same way that Syria or Iraq are. Because of that, there is more cohesion and a greater possibility of coexistence. Civil war and ethnic conflict are probably less likely in Iran than people sometimes assume, given the long history of these communities living together for many centuries.
But when you have a political vacuum at the center, combined with a deep accumulation of discontent and rage toward the central government, anything can happen. When you bring down a sledgehammer on a society—or a double-stage sledgehammer, both from the government and from a foreign invader—you activate all these fault lines that may have been dormant for centuries, perhaps even millennia. Those fault lines can then produce tremors and earthquakes here and there. How destructive they might become is anyone’s guess. But they could potentially end up destroying this political entity that has existed for many centuries.
When Soldiers Defect, the End of the Regime May Be Near
Lastly, Professor Arian, looking ahead over the next months, what early-warning indicators should observers watch—elite defections, labor strikes, inflation thresholds, prison dynamics, clerical positioning, IRGC cohesion, or international mediation—to determine which trajectory Iran is moving toward? And do you see the emergence of a “fifth scenario,” a hybrid outcome that analysts currently underestimate?
Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think defection, definitely. Defection—and also what you mentioned about IRGC cohesion, which is kind of synonymous with defection. As I said before, the government in Iran has been reduced to a security force. Right now, more than anything, it is essentially a military entity that is fighting both its own people and the United States and Israel. So, labor strikes are a fantasy at this point. Under bombs, no one can organize a labor strike.
And what the clerics say or think really does not matter anymore. In this situation, you always have to look at the armed forces—the people in uniform. If you see any form of substantial defection in their ranks, both in terms of rank and numbers—meaning defections among high-ranking officers as well as a significant number of personnel—then I think that would be the strongest indication that regime collapse is imminent. But as long as you do not see that, other scenarios should still be considered. I think defection is the key sign we should be looking for.
In this interview with the ECPS, Associate Professor Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda offers a nuanced assessment of Bangladesh’s post-2026 political transition. Reflecting on the first general election after the 2024 uprising that toppled Sheikh Hasina, he argues that a landslide electoral mandate alone cannot resolve the country’s democratic deficit. What matters, he emphasizes, is whether “procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, and sociological legitimacy are present.” Dr. Huda warns that preventing a “reverse norm cascade” depends less on electoral formalities than on how political actors behave in power—especially the ruling party. Stressing trust, institutional restraint, and freedom of criticism, he argues that Bangladesh’s democratic future will hinge on whether political parties govern responsibly, inclusively, and within genuinely pluralist constitutional limits.
Bangladesh’s February 2026 general election marked the country’s first national vote since the Gen Z-led uprising of August 2024 that toppled Sheikh Hasina after fifteen years in power. That uprising, which followed a violent crackdown on protesters that reportedly left around 1,400 people dead, was widely interpreted as a decisive rupture with one of South Asia’s most entrenched hybrid regimes. The election that followed was therefore more than a routine transfer of power: it was a test of whether Bangladesh could move from revolutionary mobilization to institutional politics. With turnout approaching 60 percent and many voters describing the experience as an opportunity to cast ballots “without fear,” the election appeared to signal at least a partial reopening of democratic space.
Yet, as Associate Professor Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda from the University of Dhaka makes clear in this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), electoral change alone does not resolve the deeper crisis of democratic legitimacy. While the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) returned to power with a commanding parliamentary majority and the Jamaat-e-Islami-led alliance emerged as the principal opposition, Assoc. Prof. Huda cautions against equating electoral victory with democratic repair. “A landslide victory helps, but it is not everything,” he argues, insisting that such a result “does not by itself wash away the democratic deficit.” For Assoc. Prof. Huda, what ultimately matters is whether “procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, and sociological legitimacy are present.”
This emphasis on institutional and relational legitimacy is central to the interview’s broader argument and directly underpins its headline claim: Bangladesh’s democratic future depends less on who wins power than on how power is exercised. In Assoc. Prof. Huda’s formulation, the post-2026 order will be judged not simply by the fact of electoral competition, but by whether political actors—above all the ruling party—act with restraint, responsibility, and democratic seriousness. “Whether Bangladesh avoids returning to previous patterns—or prevents a reverse norm cascade—largely depends on how political parties behave,” he says. Most pointedly, he stresses that “the greatest responsibility rests with the ruling party,” especially in protecting freedom of speech and ensuring that opposition parties can criticize the government.
Assoc. Prof. Huda’s analysis gains further relevance in light of the new political landscape. Alongside the parliamentary vote, citizens endorsed the reform-oriented July Charter, which proposed constitutional reforms including term limits, bicameralism, and stronger judicial independence. At the same time, Bangladesh remains marked by unresolved tensions: the Awami League was barred from contesting the election, Sheikh Hasina remains in exile in India, and debates over justice, accountability, Islamist mobilization, and political inclusion continue to define the fragile post-uprising order.
Against this backdrop, Assoc. Prof. Huda offers a sober but cautiously hopeful assessment. “If the current political parties—those in power and those in the opposition—behave responsibly, then we do not have to retreat,” he observes. The decisive question, then, is not whether Bangladesh has entered a new era, but whether its political class can transform a moment of rupture into a durable democratic settlement.
In this interview with the ECPS, Associate Professor Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda offers a nuanced assessment of Bangladesh’s post-2026 political transition. Reflecting on the first general election after the 2024 uprising that toppled Sheikh Hasina, he argues that a landslide electoral mandate alone cannot resolve the country’s democratic deficit. What matters, he emphasizes, is whether “procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, and sociological legitimacy are present.” Dr. Huda warns that preventing a “reverse norm cascade” depends less on electoral formalities than on how political actors behave in power—especially the ruling party. Stressing trust, institutional restraint, and freedom of criticism, he argues that Bangladesh’s democratic future will hinge on whether political parties govern responsibly, inclusively, and within genuinely pluralist constitutional limits.
Bangladesh’s February 2026 general election marked the country’s first national vote since the Gen Z-led uprising of August 2024 that toppled Sheikh Hasina after fifteen years in power. That uprising, which followed a violent crackdown on protesters that reportedly left around 1,400 people dead, was widely interpreted as a decisive rupture with one of South Asia’s most entrenched hybrid regimes. The election that followed was therefore more than a routine transfer of power: it was a test of whether Bangladesh could move from revolutionary mobilization to institutional politics. With turnout approaching 60 percent and many voters describing the experience as an opportunity to cast ballots “without fear,” the election appeared to signal at least a partial reopening of democratic space.
Yet, as Associate Professor Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda from the University of Dhaka makes clear in this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), electoral change alone does not resolve the deeper crisis of democratic legitimacy. While the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) returned to power with a commanding parliamentary majority and the Jamaat-e-Islami-led alliance emerged as the principal opposition, Assoc. Prof. Huda cautions against equating electoral victory with democratic repair. “A landslide victory helps, but it is not everything,” he argues, insisting that such a result “does not by itself wash away the democratic deficit.” For Assoc. Prof. Huda, what ultimately matters is whether “procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, and sociological legitimacy are present.”
This emphasis on institutional and relational legitimacy is central to the interview’s broader argument and directly underpins its headline claim: Bangladesh’s democratic future depends less on who wins power than on how power is exercised. In Assoc. Prof. Huda’s formulation, the post-2026 order will be judged not simply by the fact of electoral competition, but by whether political actors—above all the ruling party—act with restraint, responsibility, and democratic seriousness. “Whether Bangladesh avoids returning to previous patterns—or prevents a reverse norm cascade—largely depends on how political parties behave,” he says. Most pointedly, he stresses that “the greatest responsibility rests with the ruling party,” especially in protecting freedom of speech and ensuring that opposition parties can criticize the government.
Assoc. Prof. Huda’s analysis gains further relevance in light of the new political landscape. Alongside the parliamentary vote, citizens endorsed the reform-oriented July Charter, which proposed constitutional reforms including term limits, bicameralism, and stronger judicial independence. At the same time, Bangladesh remains marked by unresolved tensions: the Awami League was barred from contesting the election, Sheikh Hasina remains in exile in India, and debates over justice, accountability, Islamist mobilization, and political inclusion continue to define the fragile post-uprising order.
Against this backdrop, Assoc. Prof. Huda offers a sober but cautiously hopeful assessment. “If the current political parties—those in power and those in the opposition—behave responsibly, then we do not have to retreat,” he observes. The decisive question, then, is not whether Bangladesh has entered a new era, but whether its political class can transform a moment of rupture into a durable democratic settlement.
Here is the edited version of our interview with Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.
A Landslide Victory Cannot by Itself Eliminate the Democratic Deficit
A woman casts her ballot at a polling station during Bangladesh’s general election in Dhaka, January 7, 2024. Photo: Mamunur Rashid / Dreamstime.
Professor Kazi Huda, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me begin with the first question: After years of competitive authoritarianism and the post-2024 rupture in Bangladesh, how should we evaluate the legitimacy of the new order? Does a landslide electoral mandate reduce the democratic deficit, or is legitimacy contingent on deeper institutional reconstruction and renewed civic trust?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: Thank you for having me. A landslide victory helps, but it is not everything, and it does not by itself wash away the democratic deficit that you mentioned. A landslide victory helps a political party—it gives the party a certain level of comfort in ruling or governing. It provides some confidence that people are with them. At the same time, what is actually important is whether there is procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, or what I would call sociological legitimacy.
When election procedures are fair, we can easily claim that the victory is fair—that is procedural legitimacy. If there is constitutional legitimacy, then we can say that power is structured legitimately. On the other hand, sociological legitimacy concerns the relationship with the opposition and the broader political environment—a kind of politically professional relationship.
So, I do not think a landslide victory resolves everything when it comes to the democratic deficit. It may take you some distance along the path of democratization, but what ultimately matters are whether procedural legitimacy, constitutional legitimacy, and sociological legitimacy are present.
Without Political Trust, Elections Risk Becoming Procedural Rituals
In the post-2026 context, what minimum institutional guarantees are necessary to prevent a “reverse norm cascade”—where elections remain procedurally competitive yet politically hollow, especially under conditions of parliamentary supermajority?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: To understand whether the post-2026 election context can prevent what is called a reverse norm cascade, we first need to understand why Bangladesh held an election in 2026 at all.
As you know, Bangladesh experienced a mass uprising in 2024 that ousted an authoritarian regime. After five or six weeks of bloodshed, a government that had been in power from 2009 to 2024 came to an end. During that long period, Bangladeshi people experienced disappearances, killings, and many other abuses that should never have occurred. The mass uprising created a new aspiration among citizens that Bangladesh might finally develop a political landscape that would not revert to authoritarian tendencies—what we often describe as democratic backsliding.
To prevent a reverse norm cascade, it is essential to ensure a relationship of trust among all political parties. Equally important is a trusting relationship between political parties and the general public. Why did people protest in 2024? Because they had lost trust in the existing political parties. As a result, the general public came out into the streets to take matters into their own hands, believing that mainstream political parties had failed for the past 15 years—or at least the past decade.
One of the key reasons the 2024 mass uprising succeeded was that it was led by a non-partisan student body rather than by any political party. Political parties joined the movement in large numbers, but they did not act under their own banners when they took to the streets. Instead, they followed the leadership of the student body that organized and led the uprising.
Now, in the post-2026 election context, if political parties fail to regain people’s trust—or if there is no trust among the political parties themselves—then there is a real possibility of returning to the conditions we experienced before. This includes a lack of trust between the ruling party, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), the opposition party, Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami, and the student-led National Citizen Party.
So, what is required in this context? The primary responsibility lies with the ruling party, the BNP. As we know, power comes with responsibility. Since they are now in government, they must behave responsibly and in ways that support a democratic and sustainable political environment.
Whether Bangladesh avoids returning to previous patterns—or prevents a reverse norm cascade—largely depends on how political parties behave. Among them, the greatest responsibility rests with the ruling party: whether it seeks to control everything, whether it protects freedom of speech, and whether it ensures that opposition parties have the opportunity to criticize the government—conditions that are fundamental to any democratic environment. If the ruling party, together with other political parties, can uphold these principles and fulfill their responsibilities as they should, then I believe Bangladesh has a very promising future ahead.
Legitimacy in Transition Depends on Both Reform and Timely Elections
Large protests demand the resignation of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s government as part of the Anti-Quota Movement and Bangladesh Quota Reform Protests. Thousands took to the streets in Dhaka, Bangladesh, on August 4, 2024. Photo: M.D. Sabbir.
You have cautioned that elections without credible reform can reproduce dysfunction. How would you design a sequenced transition that preserves electoral legitimacy while avoiding the destabilizing vacuum and contestation that prolonged interim rule can generate?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: This is a difficult question: how can we design a sequenced transition that ensures a timely election while also guaranteeing that meaningful reforms are implemented?
In my view, what was needed was a time-bound interim government. Initially, when the interim government came to power on 8 August 2024, it was unclear how long it would remain in office or when the election would be held. Many expected that elections might take place within the first six or seven months.
However, as time passed, the interim government realized that this uncertainty was creating confusion among the public. People were in the dark about whether an election would occur at all, and pressure was mounting from major political parties such as the Bangladesh Nationalist Party. At some point they announced that elections would be held in the first half of April (2025). In fact, as you know, the election eventually took place this year on February 12.
A time-bound interim government is therefore essential for the kind of sequenced transition you mention. Such a government should also have a clear agenda—one that specifies what it intends to do, what it will not do, and how it plans to proceed. Because this was an interim administration, people placed a certain degree of trust in it to carry out reforms, and in some respects it did so. It facilitated dialogue among political parties, excluding the Bangladesh Awami League, which had been the previous ruling party.
As a result of these dialogues, what came to be known as the July National Charter was produced and broadly agreed upon by most active political parties in Bangladesh, although there were some dissenting views—something that could be discussed separately.
The key point is that an interim government should have a clear reform agenda. This might include constitutional reform, police reform, or other institutional reforms. At the same time, it must remain strictly time-bound and pursue these reforms within a clearly defined time frame.
Finally, the interim government must organize an election that is widely accepted—both domestically and internationally. In this respect, I think the Bangladeshi interim government was largely successful, and it deserves recognition for arranging an election that was, to a considerable extent, fair.
Public Trust Is the Foundation of Any Neutral Electoral Administration
Bangladesh’s recurring crisis over “who runs the election” seems to reflect a deeper legitimacy problem. What would a constitutionally durable, neutral election-time administration look like—one that cannot be easily abolished, captured, or informally intimidated by incumbents?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: A durable and neutral election-time government must, above all, be a government that people can trust. Trust is crucial here. If people perceive that there is an election-time administration—whether it is called a caretaker government, an interim government, or something else—and if they believe that those responsible for organizing the election cannot conduct it impartially, then the system simply will not work.
Therefore, during the caretaker or interim period, the election-time government must be able to command public trust. How can it achieve that? This is where the broader state apparatus becomes relevant.
Individuals appointed to positions within such a government—whether as advisers, election commissioners, or in other roles—are not elected; they are selected. Therefore, it is essential to select individuals from civil society and from different sectors of society who have strong professional reputations, personal integrity, and respected public standing.
The first priority should always be appointing individuals whom the public can trust and rely upon. In situations like this, public perception matters enormously. Second, during the caretaker government period, the administration must have a certain degree of authority over key institutions, including the security forces, the civilian bureaucracy, and the military bureaucracy.
At the end of the day, the caretaker government is responsible for governing the country during the election period. If it lacks authority over these institutions, then its directives will not be taken seriously.
For that reason, an election-time government must consist of strong personalities—individuals who possess both credibility and the capacity to act decisively. At the same time, they must also be impartial.
Bicameralism Only Makes Sense if It Provides Genuine Institutional Balance
Activists of Bangladesh Nationalist Party form a human chain to mark International Human Rights Day as they protested human rights violations against leaders and activist in Dhaka, December 10, 2023. Photo: Mamunur Rashid.
How do you assess the reform proposals (e.g., bicameralism and proportional representation in an upper chamber) as remedies to Bangladesh’s recurrent winner-takes-all dynamic? Under what conditions could these reforms actually constrain executive concentration rather than be circumvented?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: The question you just raised will likely become one of the major points of contention in the coming months in Bangladesh. As I mentioned, the July National Charter includes 47 or 48 proposals for constitutional reforms. One of them, as you noted, is bicameralism and the creation of a proportional representation (PR)-based upper chamber.
The basic proposal is that the distribution of seats in the upper chamber should be proportionate to the public votes received in the lower chamber. However, the major political party, the BNP—which is now the ruling party—has expressed its dissent, arguing that the seats of the upper chamber should instead be proportionate to the shares of seats in the lower chamber.
If that position is accepted, then the structure would be quite different. One important point to note is that in the charter, proposals that are not agreed upon by all political parties—such as the proposal regarding the upper chamber—include formal notes of dissent. The BNP expressed such a note.
There is also a provision stating that if a dissenting political party wins the election on the basis of an election manifesto that clearly mentions this dissent, then after winning the election it may proceed according to its own position. In other words, it is not strictly bound by the proposal.
Therefore, the ruling party—the BNP—can potentially argue that it expressed its dissent, included this position in its election manifesto, and after forming the government should now be able to proceed accordingly.
Interestingly, however, the referendum ballot did not mention this dissent. The referendum ballot only stated that there should be a PR-based upper chamber. Because of this, I assume there will be debates and contestation in Parliament—and possibly even in the streets—over how the upper chamber should be formed: whether it should be based on public votes or on lower-chamber seat shares.
If you ask for my own view, I do not agree with the BNP’s position regarding the formation of the upper chamber. In fact, I do not see a strong necessity for bicameralism or for an upper chamber in a country like Bangladesh. We already have around 300 members in our National Assembly. Adding another 100 members in an upper chamber and bearing the associated costs is quite burdensome for a country with Bangladesh’s economic conditions.
However, if one still believes that an upper chamber is necessary, then it should not simply become a replica of the lower chamber. If it merely replicates the lower chamber, there is little point in having it at all.
The BNP has also expressed dissent on several other proposals. Some of those points are understandable, but particularly regarding the PR-based upper chamber, I do not think their position makes much sense.
Post-authoritarian transitions often elevate “accountability” into a mandate. How can Bangladesh pursue accountability for past repression while avoiding collective punishment, party bans, or exclusionary practices that risk undermining democratic inclusion and long-term stability?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: Accountability is important. It is important in personal life, and it is also important when it comes to governing the state and conducting politics. However, if accountability is interpreted as collective responsibility, then this is something we should question. Collective responsibility—or collective culpability—can exclude an entire political party from the political landscape. What we need instead is individualized culpability. We need fair trials, and we need institutional reforms so that we do not return to the previous situation. As you mentioned, we should avoid a reverse norm cascade.
Therefore, what happened before August 2024 should not be addressed through collective blame. We should not claim that a political party as a whole is responsible for particular crimes. Rather, through fair trials, we should identify the individuals who were involved in these crimes and bring them to justice, instead of stigmatizing an entire political party.
Political Actors Often Convert Grievances into Moral Mandates
In your critique of populist narratives, you emphasize how symbolic indignation can displace problem-solving governance. What are the main discursive mechanisms through which Bangladeshi actors convert grievances (justice, sovereignty, moral renewal) into mandates for exclusion, retribution, or institutional bypass?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: The use of discursive mechanisms through which political actors convert grievances into mandates is not unique to Bangladesh. It happens worldwide, as many political actors try to capitalize on grievances in order to garner public support. Bangladesh is no exception.
In Bangladesh, we see such mechanisms in practices like invoking martyrdom—what I would call Shahidhood. Sometimes, when you criticize a particular political party, you may be labeled as anti-nationalist. You might be branded as pro-Pakistani, pro-Indian, pro-American, and so on. Political parties also frequently portray their opponents as traitors while presenting themselves as morally pure. At times, they even act as though they are the sellers of a “ticket to heaven.”
These are the kinds of discursive mechanisms we observe in Bangladesh today. Another important pattern—visible both under the previous regime and even now—is that some political actors try to capitalize on narratives of victimhood. In effect, they market victimhood in order to mobilize public support and secure electoral mandates.
The Post-Uprising Divide Reflects Competing Visions of Justice and Reform
Voters line up outside a polling station in Feni during Bangladesh’s 13th national election on February 12, 2026. The scene reflects the high voter turnout of approximately 59.44% in this historic “Gen Z-inspired” election held under the interim government led by Muhammad Yunus. Photo: Belayet Hossain / Dreamstime.
Revolutionary coalitions often mobilize around a shared enemy but fragment after victory. How does this dynamic apply to the 2024 student-led uprising, and what risks follow when “people vs regime” narratives persist into the period of institution-building?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: In 2024, not surprisingly, Bangladeshi people had only one enemy: the ruling authoritarian regime. After successfully removing that regime, however, the coalition that had formed during the uprising began to show many fractures. We now observe that it has divided into different groups.
This division—or, as you noted, fragmentation after victory—depends on several factors, particularly in the Bangladeshi context. One form of fragmentation is based on ends, specifically the question of justice and how it should be ensured. One group believes that justice can be achieved through reform. If the constitution is sufficiently reformed, they argue, Bangladesh may avoid returning to a regime-like situation in the future. Others believe that those responsible must be brought into the justice system and punished. There is also another group that advocates a mechanism of reconciliation and healing.
Thus, some groups are divided based on ends. At the same time, there are also divisions based on means, and these groups often overlap. Groups defined by their goals and those defined by their strategies frequently intersect. Among those divided by means, some political parties and individuals believe that elections should come first, with reforms following afterward. Another group argues that before holding elections, the constitution and various institutions and sectors of the state should first be reformed.
We also see fragmentation shaped by identity-based narratives—whether someone is labeled nationalist or anti-nationalist, whether they are described as pro-Indian, and so on, as I mentioned earlier.
This fragmentation is therefore quite widespread. The coalition that emerged during the mass uprising has now divided into different groups. I think this is a normal development after a successful movement, because different interest groups pursue different priorities, and people tend to divide according to their interests.
Islamist Parties Can Participate in Democracy if They Respect Constitutional Limits
With Islamist actors gaining unprecedented parliamentary weight, how should we distinguish analytically between (a) democratic inclusion of religious parties, (b) rightward drift of the political center, and (c) programmatic Islamization that constrains pluralism—particularly on gender equality, minority rights, and academic freedom?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: Personally, I do not have any problem with the democratic inclusion of religious political parties. Unless they are too extreme, every ideology—whether religious or political—has the right to participate in politics in a liberal democratic system, provided that they operate within constitutional limits, respect equal citizenship, and do not violate human rights.
I also have a particular view regarding the rightward drift of the political center. The political center is never fixed; it shifts depending on circumstances. Sometimes it tilts toward the right, and sometimes toward the left. Therefore, if a leftward drift of the center is not considered problematic, then a slight drift to the right should not necessarily be seen as a problem either.
If we try to analytically identify a rightward drift of the political center in Bangladesh, we can observe that even secular political parties often use religious symbolism when campaigning for votes. We see politicians wearing religious caps or clothing, praying with people, and engaging in similar practices. Even some leftist political figures have done this recently. Bangladesh is a country where about 90 percent of the population is Muslim, so even so-called secular politicians often resort to such symbolism during elections in order to connect with Muslim voters.
Regarding the third issue—programmatic Islamization that constrains pluralism—the rise of religion-based political parties is not unique to Bangladesh. It is a global phenomenon. We see similar developments in Europe and other parts of the world, where religion-based political parties are gaining visibility and influence in political discourse.
In such contexts, both the state and society must play an important role. By society, I mean civil society organizations, other political parties, and the government itself. All of them have responsibilities to ensure that religious political actors do not undermine gender equality, minority rights, or other democratic principles.
If we want to assess whether programmatic Islamization is increasing in Bangladesh, we should examine whether these parties are gaining popularity. Indeed, they are becoming more prominent. For example, a major religion-based political party, Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami, received around 32 percent of the vote. However, this outcome was achieved partly through alliances with other political parties—many of which are also religious—and partly through cooperation with the National Citizen Party, a student-led political movement.
One interesting aspect of Jamaat-e-Islami is that it appears to be trying to reshape itself in order to operate within a liberal democratic framework. We can observe changes in its language. In the past, the party frequently used strongly religious terminology, but during the recent election it appeared to adopt more liberal political language rather than explicitly religious rhetoric.
So, we do see some changes within these political parties. If they are allowed to operate within a liberal political sphere, they may gradually adapt themselves to that environment. For this reason, I do not currently see a major risk that Bangladesh will soon experience a sharp rise in extremism or a dramatic escalation of religion-based politics.
Responsible Political Leadership Can Still Secure Bangladesh’s Democratic Future
And lastly, Professor Huda, looking ahead to the next decade, what are the most plausible political trajectories for Bangladesh? Do you envision a pathway toward democratic consolidation anchored in institutional reform and pluralist consensus, or does the current configuration—marked by populist mobilization, Islamist resurgence, and intense polarization—risk entrenching a new hybrid order where competitive elections coexist with ideological majoritarianism and periodic instability? What key indicators should scholars and policymakers watch to assess which trajectory is unfolding?
Assoc. Prof. Kazi A. S. M. Nurul Huda: So, you mentioned three trajectories: one is a consolidation pathway, another is a hybrid order, and the third is a cycle of instability. As a person, I am an optimist. I think that if the current political parties—those in power and those in the opposition—behave responsibly, then we do not have to retreat. This is a moment that we should seize and use to look forward to a better future.
However, to understand whether we are moving forward or backward, we need to look at certain indicators. For example, we need to see whether elections in Bangladesh take place regularly, whether those elections are fair, and how opposition parties are treated by the ruling party. We also need to observe whether security forces behave impartially or whether the government uses security forces to pursue its own political agenda.
Another important factor is whether the bureaucracy functions properly and whether citizens are able to enjoy their fundamental and human rights. If we examine these indicators over the next two or three years, we will be able to predict where Bangladesh is actually heading.
If we see that these indicators are improving and functioning well, then we can hope for and predict a democratic and sustainable future. In that case, Bangladesh may develop into a stable democracy that does not repeatedly slip into instability.
Bangladesh’s 2026 election—the first since the 2024 uprising that toppled Sheikh Hasina—has been widely framed as a democratic turning point. Yet in this interview with the ECPS, Samzir Ahmed, a Bangladeshi politics expert, argues that the moment should be interpreted more cautiously. Rather than a democratic restoration, he describes the upheaval primarily as “a restoration of politics itself,” following what he calls a long period of depoliticization. Ahmed contends that the institutionalization of actors such as Jamaat-e-Islami represents a critical turning point, emphasizing that “institutionalization is an acid test for populist politics.” While populist and Islamist movements often thrive outside formal power structures, their integration into institutional politics may fundamentally reshape their strategies—and expose new constraints on their influence.
Bangladesh’s February 2026 general election marked the country’s first national vote since the Gen Z–led uprising of August 2024 that toppled Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina after fifteen years in power. The uprising followed a violent crackdown on protesters that, according to UN reporting, left around 1,400 people dead and precipitated the collapse of one of South Asia’s most entrenched hybrid regimes. Widely viewed as a test of whether Bangladesh could transition from revolutionary protest to institutional politics, the election unfolded largely peacefully. Turnout approached 60%, and many voters described the moment as an opportunity to cast ballots “without fear” after years of elections marred by intimidation and allegations of manipulation.
The results reshaped the country’s political landscape. The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), led by Tarique Rahman—who returned to Bangladesh in December 2025 after seventeen years in exile—won a sweeping victory with roughly 212 parliamentary seats, returning the party to power after two decades. The Islamist Jamaat-e-Islami–led alliance secured about 77 seats, marking its strongest parliamentary showing and establishing it as the principal opposition. Alongside the parliamentary vote, citizens also endorsed the reform-oriented “July Charter” in a referendum, which proposes significant constitutional reforms, including term limits for the prime minister, bicameralism, and strengthened judicial independence. Yet the broader political transition remains contested: the Awami League was barred from contesting the election, Sheikh Hasina remains in exile in India following a war-crimes conviction, and debates over justice, accountability, and political inclusion continue to shape Bangladesh’s fragile post-uprising order.
Against this volatile backdrop, the incoming BNP government faces daunting challenges: rebuilding institutions weakened by years of authoritarian consolidation, restoring law and order after a turbulent transitional period, reviving an economy strained by inflation and youth unemployment, and navigating complex regional diplomacy as India, the United States, and Pakistan recalibrate relations with Dhaka. These overlapping pressures raise a deeper question about whether the 2026 election represents a genuine democratic turning point—or merely the beginning of another cycle in Bangladesh’s long history of majoritarian power and polarized politics.
In this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Samzir Ahmed, Lecturer at the Department of Bangla at Netrokona University, offers a sobering interpretation of this moment. Drawing on his concept of the “compromised strongman,” Ahmed argues that the election should not be interpreted as a democratic restoration. Rather, he situates the upheaval within a deeper historical pattern in which Bangladesh oscillates between depoliticization and renewed political mobilization. As he explains, the country had been experiencing “a long trend of depoliticization,” and the July uprising marked a rupture that represents primarily “a restoration of politics itself.” In his words, “democracy, however, remains far away.”
Ahmed also highlights the structural dynamics behind the BNP’s victory and the reconfiguration of Bangladesh’s ideological landscape. While the election signals a rightward shift in political gravity, he notes that such a development reflects a longer process that accelerated during the final years of Hasina’s rule. At the same time, the institutionalization of Islamist political forces—particularly the emergence of Jamaat-e-Islami as the main parliamentary opposition—signals a transformation in how populist and religious movements operate within Bangladesh’s political system. For Ahmed, this transition is crucial because “institutionalization is an acid test for populist politics.” Populist movements, he suggests, often flourish when they remain outside formal power structures but face new constraints once they become embedded within institutions.
More broadly, Ahmed situates the country’s current uncertainties within the unresolved dual nationalist structure that has shaped Bangladeshi politics since independence. With the Awami League banned and its leadership in exile or imprisoned, the political vacuum raises unresolved questions about representation and polarization. Whether secular constituencies will eventually reorganize under a revived Awami League, find accommodation within the BNP, or generate a new political formation remains uncertain.
Moreover, Ahmed reflects on the generational dynamics unleashed by the student-led uprising that triggered the transition. The protests, he argues, reflected “generational frustration with traditional patronist-centric politics.” Yet the digital hyperconnectivity that enabled rapid mobilization against authoritarian rule may simultaneously complicate the creation of durable political alternatives. In one of the interview’s most striking observations, Ahmed captures this dilemma succinctly: “The present is denied, but the future is not invited either.”
Ahmed’s reflections suggest that Bangladesh is entering another phase of intense political contestation rather than a settled democratic transition. Whether the July Charter reforms, ideological reconciliation, and institutional reconstruction can transform this turbulent moment into genuine democratic consolidation remains, for now, an open question.
In this analysis, Dr. Oludele Solaja examines how geopolitical tensions around the strategic oil chokepoint of the Strait of Hormuz transmit economic shocks across the global political economy and disproportionately affect African states. Because many African economies remain highly dependent on commodity exports and imported energy, oil price volatility quickly translates into inflation, fiscal stress, and social pressure. Even oil-exporting countries such as Nigeria face paradoxical effects, benefiting from higher crude revenues while simultaneously suffering from rising domestic fuel costs. These inflationary pressures can fuel economic discontent, weaken government legitimacy, and create fertile ground for populist mobilization. Dr. Solaja argues that recurrent commodity shocks expose deep structural vulnerabilities, underscoring the need for economic diversification, energy transition, and stronger regional integration to build resilience.
By Oludele Solaja*
Geopolitical conflicts rarely stay within their battlefield boundaries. In a world with integrated economy, war in strategic energy corridor would swiftly lead to inflation, political instability and governmental pressures far from conflict. Geopolitical tensions in the strategic energy corridor are central to the functioning of the global political economy. The Strait of Hormuz holds a peculiar important position in the transit routes among all. Some one fifth of the global petroleum liquids passes through the narrow maritime passage in between Iran and Arabian Peninsula (US Energy Information Administration, 2023), hence the perception of armed conflict even if it’s just the rumor of one in the area would lead to an immediate volatility shock in the global oil market.
Not just the physical supply disruptions but the uncertainty itself would create price volatility. Higher cost of insuring the vessels, shifting of the routes and market responses all contribute to the volatility as well. Scholars of energy politics have always acknowledged that oil markets are intrinsically connected with national security and strategic rivalry (Bridge & Le Billon, 2017). As such, conflict occurring in energy producing areas could have economic impact across nations without any boundaries.
The effects on the developing nations would be even worse. World Bank warns that such shocks from the Middle Eastern energy supply chains could push the oil prices beyond $100/barrel, creating inflation pressure and fiscal burden upon developing nations. In an integrated global economy, a geopolitical shock will be transmitted across the commodity supply chain. Energy supply, food production, transportation network and capital flow are all interconnected.
Inflation Transmission and African Political Economy
When energy prices shock happens in African countries, typically there are two related effects: windfall profit to oil exporters, and inflationary pressure to domestic markets.
On one hand, oil exporters like Nigeria, Angola and Algeria could profit from rising crude oil prices through high export revenues and balance of payments surplus. In theory, windfalls can stabilize fiscal conditions and support increase development expenditure. Nevertheless, political economy literature argues that commodity windfalls often reproduce and strengthen existing vulnerabilities of the economies, which fail to transform into sustainable development instead of generating rent-seeking behavior without firm institutions and diversified economies (Auty, 2001; Ross, 2012).
On the other hand, rising global oil prices will transmit inflation through the domestic economies. Transportation costs rise with higher fuel prices, pushing the price up of goods including foods, which need logistics and transportation, as well as costs for manufactured goods and fertilizers for farming. Electricity costs are also higher and so forth.
In Nigeria, this paradox is crystal clear. Despite being one of Africa’s biggest exporters of crude oil, Nigeria needs to import its supply of refined petroleum products as its own refining capacity is insufficient. This creates two divergent effects at the same time: Nigeria has to pay high fuel import costs from imported refined oil, while export revenue is expected to rise with higher crude prices. Informal sector workers who are in the vast majority in Nigerian labor market would experience increasing cost of living.
The consequences for oil-importing African countries are even harsher. Rising costs of fuel import not only leads to greater trade deficit and depreciation of national currency but also increase countries’ exposure to sovereign debt distress.
Commodity Shocks and Politics of Economic Discontent
The macroeconomic impact beyond energy sector can reshape the domestic political landscape by raising costs of living especially in the vulnerable societies. Political scientists have noted that a sudden increase in living costs can cause popular unrest, weaken government legitimacy, and contribute to the emergence of populism (Rodrik, 2018; Kriesi & Pappas, 2015).
In this case, a global economic shock would have translated into domestic political pressure. When confronting with inflation pressures, African governments often are compelled to subsidize the consumption of oil or enforce price caps, which have proven to undermine fiscal positions and postpone necessary structural adjustments. Repeated commodity shocks in institutionally weak economies can reproduce the same vicious cycles of economic discontent and political instability.
Geopolitical conflicts in energy corridors therefore do more than creating turbulence for economies. They challenge domestic political legitimacy by accentuating conflicts between different strata of society about inflation, social welfare, and commodity distribution.
Structural Vulnerability in Commodity-dependent Economies
All of the aforementioned highlights the inherent structural vulnerabilities of commodity-dependent economic systems. Dependency theorists have consistently asserted that countries that depend on exports of primary commodities are exposed to volatility in international commodity markets (Frank, 1967; Amin, 1976). Moreover, the “resource curse” debate emphasizes rent seeking, volatility, and limited industrial development in extracting economies (Ross, 2012).
Energy geopolitical shock can only intensify this vulnerability. Shipping disruptions or higher freight costs resulting from higher insurance fees due to conflict at Persian Gulf can be re-routed around Africa’s Cape of Good Hope, further intensifying the costs borne by all importing nations, especially those relying on food imports, manufactured goods and agricultural inputs. In such cases, the impacts of wars fought at energy corridors are redistributed across the commodity markets that link the Strait of Hormuz to consumers across a faraway land.
Policy Implications: Building Resilience
Mitigating vulnerability of geopolitical commodity shocks requires a long-term perspective beyond ad hoc management strategies. The first thing for African countries is to speed up economic diversification (industrialization and value adding in agriculture), because it will lead to sustainable development not only by reducing dependence on the exports of oil. Secondly, investment in infrastructure and on renewable energies will lead to energy sustainability in African countries and reduces the reliance on imported refined goods. Third, strengthen the social safety net (cash transfers, food security program, etc.) can shield the poorest households from inflationary shocks. Fourth, expand intra-African trade using the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) will make the region reduce dependence on unstable international commodity market.
Conclusion
Volatility in strategic energy corridors such as the Strait of Hormuz is a manifestation of geopolitical tensions’ spread across the global political economy. For Africa’s commodity-dependent economies, it amplifies the persistent structural vulnerabilities that are embedded in extraction-based development strategies. Short term export gains associated with rising prices rarely outweigh the subsequent inflationary pressures and fiscal instability in the longer run. Unless these development strategies are actively reformed to emphasize diversification, energy transition and resilience, each commodity shock following every conflict will result in the similar outcomes: temporary windfall gains followed by inflation-induced hardship and fragile development. Geopolitical conflicts in energy corridors, hence, are not just regional security issues; they are fundamentally tests of structural resilience in the development agenda of the Global South.
(*) Dr. Oludele Solaja is a faculty member in the Department of Sociology at Olabisi Onabanjo University in Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State, Nigeria.
References
Amin, S. (1976). Unequal development: An essay on the social formations of peripheral capitalism. Monthly Review Press.
Auty, R. (2001). Resource abundance and economic development. Oxford University Press.
Bridge, G., & Le Billon, P. (2017). Oil. Polity Press.
Frank, A. G. (1967). Capitalism and underdevelopment in Latin America. Monthly Review Press.
Kriesi, H., & Pappas, T. (2015). European populism in the shadow of the Great Recession. ECPR Press.
Rodrik, D. (2018). “Populism and the economics of globalization.” Journal of International Business Policy, 1(1–2), 12–33.
Ross, M. (2012). The oil curse: How petroleum wealth shapes the development of nations. Princeton University Press.
U.S. Energy Information Administration. (2023). World oil transit chokepoints. https://www.eia.gov
World Bank. (2023). Commodity markets outlook. World Bank.
Bangladesh’s 2026 election—the first since the 2024 uprising that toppled Sheikh Hasina—has been widely framed as a democratic turning point. Yet in this interview with the ECPS, Samzir Ahmed, a Bangladeshi politics expert, argues that the moment should be interpreted more cautiously. Rather than a democratic restoration, he describes the upheaval primarily as “a restoration of politics itself,” following what he calls a long period of depoliticization. Ahmed contends that the institutionalization of actors such as Jamaat-e-Islami represents a critical turning point, emphasizing that “institutionalization is an acid test for populist politics.” While populist and Islamist movements often thrive outside formal power structures, their integration into institutional politics may fundamentally reshape their strategies—and expose new constraints on their influence.
Bangladesh’s February 2026 general election marked the country’s first national vote since the Gen Z–led uprising of August 2024 that toppled Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina after fifteen years in power. The uprising followed a violent crackdown on protesters that, according to UN reporting, left around 1,400 people dead and precipitated the collapse of one of South Asia’s most entrenched hybrid regimes. Widely viewed as a test of whether Bangladesh could transition from revolutionary protest to institutional politics, the election unfolded largely peacefully. Turnout approached 60%, and many voters described the moment as an opportunity to cast ballots “without fear” after years of elections marred by intimidation and allegations of manipulation.
The results reshaped the country’s political landscape. The Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), led by Tarique Rahman—who returned to Bangladesh in December 2025 after seventeen years in exile—won a sweeping victory with roughly 212 parliamentary seats, returning the party to power after two decades. The Islamist Jamaat-e-Islami–led alliance secured about 77 seats, marking its strongest parliamentary showing and establishing it as the principal opposition. Alongside the parliamentary vote, citizens also endorsed the reform-oriented “July Charter” in a referendum, which proposes significant constitutional reforms, including term limits for the prime minister, bicameralism, and strengthened judicial independence. Yet the broader political transition remains contested: the Awami League was barred from contesting the election, Sheikh Hasina remains in exile in India following a war-crimes conviction, and debates over justice, accountability, and political inclusion continue to shape Bangladesh’s fragile post-uprising order.
Against this volatile backdrop, the incoming BNP government faces daunting challenges: rebuilding institutions weakened by years of authoritarian consolidation, restoring law and order after a turbulent transitional period, reviving an economy strained by inflation and youth unemployment, and navigating complex regional diplomacy as India, the United States, and Pakistan recalibrate relations with Dhaka. These overlapping pressures raise a deeper question about whether the 2026 election represents a genuine democratic turning point—or merely the beginning of another cycle in Bangladesh’s long history of majoritarian power and polarized politics.
In this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Samzir Ahmed, Lecturer at the Department of Bangla at Netrokona University, offers a sobering interpretation of this moment. Drawing on his concept of the “compromised strongman,” Ahmed argues that the election should not be interpreted as a democratic restoration. Rather, he situates the upheaval within a deeper historical pattern in which Bangladesh oscillates between depoliticization and renewed political mobilization. As he explains, the country had been experiencing “a long trend of depoliticization,” and the July uprising marked a rupture that represents primarily “a restoration of politics itself.” In his words, “democracy, however, remains far away.”
Ahmed also highlights the structural dynamics behind the BNP’s victory and the reconfiguration of Bangladesh’s ideological landscape. While the election signals a rightward shift in political gravity, he notes that such a development reflects a longer process that accelerated during the final years of Hasina’s rule. At the same time, the institutionalization of Islamist political forces—particularly the emergence of Jamaat-e-Islami as the main parliamentary opposition—signals a transformation in how populist and religious movements operate within Bangladesh’s political system. For Ahmed, this transition is crucial because “institutionalization is an acid test for populist politics.” Populist movements, he suggests, often flourish when they remain outside formal power structures but face new constraints once they become embedded within institutions.
More broadly, Ahmed situates the country’s current uncertainties within the unresolved dual nationalist structure that has shaped Bangladeshi politics since independence. With the Awami League banned and its leadership in exile or imprisoned, the political vacuum raises unresolved questions about representation and polarization. Whether secular constituencies will eventually reorganize under a revived Awami League, find accommodation within the BNP, or generate a new political formation remains uncertain.
Moreover, Ahmed reflects on the generational dynamics unleashed by the student-led uprising that triggered the transition. The protests, he argues, reflected “generational frustration with traditional patronist-centric politics.” Yet the digital hyperconnectivity that enabled rapid mobilization against authoritarian rule may simultaneously complicate the creation of durable political alternatives. In one of the interview’s most striking observations, Ahmed captures this dilemma succinctly: “The present is denied, but the future is not invited either.”
Ahmed’s reflections suggest that Bangladesh is entering another phase of intense political contestation rather than a settled democratic transition. Whether the July Charter reforms, ideological reconciliation, and institutional reconstruction can transform this turbulent moment into genuine democratic consolidation remains, for now, an open question.
Here is the edited version of our interview with Samzir Ahmed, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.
Strongman Politics Has Always Been a Structural Possibility in Bangladesh
A woman casts her ballot at a polling station during Bangladesh’s general election in Dhaka, January 7, 2024. Photo: Mamunur Rashid / Dreamstime.
The 2026 election has been described as both a democratic restoration and an ideological rightward shift. In light of your concept of the “compromised strongman,” do you interpret the BNP’s supermajority as a democratic reset—or as the beginning of a new configuration of strongman politics under altered ideological conditions?
Samzir Ahmed: I would not describe it as a democratic restoration. Rather, I would say that Bangladesh has been experiencing a long trend of depoliticization. The July upheaval—or uprising—marked a significant break in that trajectory. In this sense, what we are witnessing is, first and foremost, a restoration of politics itself. Democracy, however, remains far away.
I do agree that a rightward shift is taking place, but it is largely a continuation of a process that began several decades ago and gained considerable momentum during Hasina’s time in power. It was the outcome of the compromise that I discussed in my paper. Strongman politics has always been a structural possibility in Bangladesh. The ban on our military’s political activities has also contributed to this dynamic. At this stage, what matters most is the nature and depth of this new form of re-politicization and how it will shape the future trajectory of politics in the country.
Given your argument that democratic erosion in Bangladesh is rooted in unresolved nationalist fractures, how should we interpret the BNP’s two-thirds majority? Does it risk reproducing the same executive centralization that enabled Sheikh Hasina’s consolidation?
Samzir Ahmed: I think the BNP lacks a strong ideological rhetoric. That is a major problem for the party. Their brand of Bangladeshi nationalism, although it sounds inclusive, has always tilted toward the right. For now, the nationalist structure is dormant—albeit very temporarily. However, with the resurgence of Islamist politics, the factional divide is bound to return with greater force. So that would be my take on this.
The Banning of the Awami League Has Created a Political Vacuum in the Secular Bloc
You argue that split nationalist identity has repeatedly destabilized democratic consolidation. How does the banning of the Awami League reshape that dual nationalist structure? Does exclusion deepen polarization or temporarily suppress it?
Samzir Ahmed: Yes, it is going to deepen polarization. The question is: who is going to represent the secular bloc? In this election, they voted for the BNP, but historically Awami movement—at least on paper or during elections—represented them. Their activities have been banned, and their major leaders are either fugitives or in jail. So, there is now a vacuum. The unresolved question, then, is whether the deepening split will make their return inevitable, whether the BNP will serve as a proxy, or whether a new party will emerge. At this moment, however, I am not very hopeful about the third option. So, we are essentially left to choose between the other two possibilities.
With Jamaat-e-Islami emerging as the principal opposition, do we see a normalization of political Islam and Islamist populism within parliamentary competition—or the institutionalization of the religious pole in Bangladesh’s long-standing nationalist split?
Samzir Ahmed: Yes, we are witnessing a normalization of political Islam and its institutionalization. However, I see this as an advancement in a particular sense. For a long time, Jamaat-e-Islami has practiced politics in a rather unpolitical way. They run school programs and try to influence school students. Even when they ask for votes, they tend to present themselves as some kind of Islamic messiah. In universities, they have run campaigns such as “I Hate Politics” or “We Don’t Want Politics on Campus.” Their success is evident in their clean sweep of student union elections.
Now, as they appear more visibly in an institutional political form, the rhetoric of anti-politics is likely to lose its force. This rhetoric— “I hate politics”—served Jamaat-e-Islami very well for a long time. But as they move more openly into the political arena, that narrative is unlikely to remain effective.
So, as they have now formally entered politics in a more visible way, something interesting is really taking shape. I am not saying that they were not formally present in politics before, but their strategy was largely unpolitical. Now they are losing that strategy, which is why I say that something interesting is unfolding.
The Uprising Was Against Something—Not Clearly for Something
Voters line up outside a polling station in Feni during Bangladesh’s 13th national election on February 12, 2026. The scene reflects the high voter turnout of approximately 59.44% in this historic “Gen Z-inspired” election held under the interim government led by Muhammad Yunus. Photo: Belayet Hossain / Dreamstime.
The student-led uprising that toppled Hasina seemed to signal generational democratic aspirations. Yet the National Citizen Party’s limited electoral success suggests something more complex. Does this reflect ideological fragmentation, populist volatility, or structural resistance to centrist pluralism?
Samzir Ahmed: I think something more complex is at play. The uprising was against something, but not clearly for something. So, the signal should be read as generational frustration with traditional patronist-centric politics, rather than a straightforward aspiration for democracy.
The NCP’s political trajectory suggests that they were never actually prepared for this moment or for the kind of political opportunity they have enjoyed. In the age of digital hyperconnectivity, which facilitates a new wave of populist politics, it is relatively easier to build consensus against power. But this form of connectivity, at the same time, makes it equally difficult to rebuild or reconstruct our polity. The present is denied, but the future is not invited either.
You note that radical right groups in Bangladesh historically function as “kingmakers” despite limited electoral dominance. In the current context, is Islamism transitioning from pressure politics to institutionalized parliamentary leverage?
Samzir Ahmed: Yes, they have gained leverage, but it may work in their favor—or it may risk their future. I think institutionalization is an acid test for populist politics. Populist politics functions really well when such actors are not in power or not operating within an institutionalized setting.
In Bangladesh, although Jamaat-e-Islami is now positioned as the opponent, we have to keep in mind that it has historically been a close ally of the BNP. So, they are likely to enjoy some share of power. In that sense, they will gain leverage, but that leverage also comes with risks.
Opposing Women’s Empowerment Is Politically Counterproductive
Reports of increasing gender-based anxieties and Islamist rhetoric during the election cycle suggest a societal shift. Do you interpret this as an organic religious revival, a strategic mobilization by political elites, or a symptom of nationalist identity re-negotiation?
Samzir Ahmed: I do not think the increasing gender-based anxiety suggests a broader social shift. Jamaat-e-Islami generated controversy by taking a position against women’s leadership and empowerment. They are ideologically bound to produce such controversies unless they prioritize voting strategy over ideology. But this has already proved counterproductive.
Female participation in education and in the labour market is very high in Bangladesh, and women’s political participation is also rising. So, going against women’s empowerment may prove counterproductive for any political party. I am not forgetting that there are other forms of gender identity, but female identity has found a place in populist rhetoric, while others have not.
Institutional Design Alone Cannot Resolve Political Contradictions
If the July Charter’s constitutional reforms (term limits, bicameralism, judicial independence) are only partially implemented, does this reinforce your thesis that institutional design alone cannot overcome foundational nationalist contradictions?
Samzir Ahmed: That’s an interesting question. The future of the July Charter is very unclear at the moment. Foundational nationalist contradictions are political problems, and they cannot be solved simply through institutional design. I myself proposed a design for police reform. But without political resolutions, these reform initiatives are bound to face difficulties. We have some good laws, but the problem is that we are not in any shortage of ways to bypass them.
For example, faculty recruitment in universities is highly politicized. Previously, recruitment was only merit-based. To ensure better accountability, many universities introduced written examinations, but that has become even more problematic. Delays are often created during the written examination stage. Politically biased recruitment can now even find written evidence in its favor. So, I could give any number of such examples. In that sense, I reassert my position that institutional design alone cannot overcome foundational nationalist contradictions, which is fundamentally a political problem.
Public Support for Both Democracy and Sharia Is an Enigma
Supporters gather at an election rally of the Jamaat-e-Islami–led alliance in Feni, Bangladesh, on January 30, 2026, ahead of the national elections. Photo: Borhan Uddin Nishan / Dreamstime.
You describe Bangladesh’s democratic oscillation as driven by “anti-incumbency” rooted in split identity. Has the 2026 election broken this cycle, or does it represent another turn in a structurally reactionary political pattern?
Samzir Ahmed: I think it represents another turn in a structurally reactionary political pattern. The BNP-led government has already started receiving serious backlash, at least in the digital sphere. So, I think it is going to be another turn, but it is still early days. We have to wait and see how it unfolds.
In your analysis, strongman leaders have historically sought legitimacy through Islamization. Could the BNP now rely less on populist compromise and more on explicit religious-nationalist consolidation—or would that destabilize its broader electoral coalition?
Samzir Ahmed: It is an interesting scenario. While autocratic leaders have always used varying degrees of Islamic legitimacy, the situation for the BNP is quite unprecedented. Structurally, direct Islamic rule may appear to be the easiest option if they move toward electoral autocracy. However, this time they came to power with substantial secular support. So, this is very new. The future is, therefore, very challenging for the BNP.
Survey data cited in your work suggest simultaneous support for democracy and Sharia-based governance. How should scholars interpret this apparent normative contradiction? Is it cognitive dissonance, layered sovereignty, or alternative conceptions of democratic legitimacy?
Samzir Ahmed: The recent survey by Prothom Alo, the major national daily in Bangladesh, has also shown strikingly similar results, depicting overwhelming support for both Islamic law and democracy. So, this requires serious further research. I would prefer to avoid being speculative here, but it is a kind of enigma that I am genuinely interested in exploring further. Perhaps in the near future.
Bangladesh’s Foreign Policy Direction Remains Unclear
With renewed balancing among India, China, Pakistan, and the United States, how does Bangladesh’s foreign policy reflect its unresolved nationalist duality—particularly between anti-Indian sentiment and pragmatic economic alignment?
Samzir Ahmed: The BNP-led government’s foreign policy is still not very clear. There are some hints, but there are still many things to watch for. At the same time, there is constant pressure from the United States regarding some controversial agreements. However, anti-Indian sentiment has had a rollercoaster trajectory in Bangladesh. It rises whenever the Awami League is in power and declines when its opponent holds power. So, this dynamic is very much connected to the reactionary political pattern.
Comparatively, do you see Bangladesh moving toward competitive authoritarianism, hybrid populism, or another variant of strongman governance? How does your “compromised strongman” framework travel beyond Hasina to the current moment?
Samzir Ahmed: It is still very early to comment on this. I see the election as the institutionalization of another cycle of re-politicization. However, the structural possibility and template for strongman politics are always there. So, autocratic solutions are traditionally available. What a government needs is the right kind of problem. So, yes, I see it in this way.
Democratic Consolidation Requires Reconciliation First
And lastly, your article suggests that the failure to build a cohesive nation of equal citizens underpins authoritarian drift. What would genuine democratic consolidation require in Bangladesh: institutional reform, ideological reconciliation, or a re-founding narrative of national identity?
Samzir Ahmed: Bangladesh needs all three. If I were to rank them, I would put ideological or political reconciliation first. Then, based on that reconciliation, a re-founding narrative of national identity. And finally, institutional reform. Institutional reform, which has been given much emphasis this time, would therefore come last in this order. So, yes, I think Bangladesh needs all three.
This research note introduces high frequency “real-time” Google Trends data as a novel tool for studying public engagement with major political speeches. Unlike traditional dial-testing, which captures emotional reactions, “googling” patterns reveal cognitive engagement—moments when audiences actively seek information about claims, people, or policies mentioned by the speaker. Analyzing the 2026 State of the Union Address by President Donald J. Trump, the study shows that search activity spiked around issues such as TrumpRX, “Trump Accounts,” and D.E.I., as well as narratives tied to culture-war themes like the story of Sage Blair. The findings suggest that policy proposals addressing material needs—combined with culture-war framing—can mobilize significant public attention, echoing strategies seen in contemporary populist politics.
This research note introduces high frequency “real time” Google Trends data as a tool for research on the general public’s engagement with high-profile political speeches. Contrary to the well-known dial-testing – providing data on emotional engagement – “googling” patterns offer glimpse into the cognitive engagement – actual efforts to obtain additional information on the issues introduced in the speech.
The 2026 State of the Union (SOTU) Address by President Donald J. Trump offered promising testing ground for such tool, due to its prominence, extraordinary length, diverse content and involvement of extraordinary invitees personifying the key narratives. The results indicate that TrumpRX and “Trump Accounts” – generated substantial interest among audience – as well as D.E.I. (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion). Moreover, search data revealed noticeable interest in the history of Sage Blair – an example of engaging framing of the culture war issues. These narratives could be applied in forthcoming campaigns to construct the mix of policies addressing material needs of anti-elitist voters and the culture war narrative – the sort of “bread and circuses” already deployed by Central European illiberals.
Introduction
On 24 February 2026 President Donald J. Trump delivered the first State of the Union (SOTU) address of his second term. The one hour and 47 minutes performance – breaking President Clinton’s 2000 record by over 20 percent (Peters, 2026) – provided unique communication opportunity for president facing tensions among his MAGA fandom as midterm elections approaches.
Staged in the most “presidential” setting imaginable – a joint session of the United States Congress in a year marking 250 years of US independence – President Trump’s spectacle involved proclamation of “the golden age of America,” litany of 47th President’s achievements and bashing on the “craziness” of his opponents. It also featured appearance of extraordinary invitees, personifying President’s narratives on the past, present and future of the United States. Indeed, as noticed by The Economist, the speech was “light on policy and heavy on theatre” as “more than 60% of it made no reference to specific proposals, far more than any other address in the past 50 year.”[1]
According to the Nielsen data, SOTU attracted 32.6 million TV viewers.[2] In a 24 February survey, conducted for CNN via text message using the SSRS Text Message Panel among 482 respondents who watched the speech,[3] 64% reacted positively (of them 38% very positively) and 36% negatively (of them 20% very negatively). Noteworthy, the sample was noticeably skewed towards the right – only 18% of respondents described themselves as Democrats, 41% as Republicans, and 41% as independents or others.
As put by W. Mead, “Trump does not speak in order to convey information to his hearers” but rather say things and then see how they react.[4] Undoubtedly SOTU spectacle offered extraordinary occasion for that, with President spending nearly two hours probing wide array of themes and narratives. In that sense the event can be considered an experiment, and the vast amount of collected data will likely be meticulously crunched in order to develop communication strategies for approaching midterm elections.
On top of surveys, such data can be collected using so called dial-testing – technique developed in 1984 to record real-time reactions of the focus group participants (Kirk & Schill, 2011). For example, Fox News enriched its covering of 2026 SOTU address with dial-testing results from panel made up of 29 Democrats, 30 independents and 41 Republicans.[5]
The goal of this research note is to introduce another data source, that can be applied to elicit real-time reactions audience of such political event – the “real time”[6] high-frequency Google Trends data.
Contrary to the dial-testing, aimed at recording feelings and attitudes (emotional reaction), Google Trends reflects actual behaviour of millions of people engaging in the effort to obtain additional information on the issues introduced by the speaker. That could involve attempts to fact-check or learn more about the piece of information mentioned as a part of the bigger narrative.
The rest of the note is structured as follows. Section II briefly introduces Google Trends as a data source, Section IIIapplies them to the President Trump’s 2026 SOTU address, focusing on people explicitly mentioned by the President, as well as keywords relevant for his key topics. Section IV concludes.
2) “Real Time” Google Trends data
Presented research design is based upon assumption that as of 24 February 2026, “googling” remained sufficiently popular tool for searching factual information in the USA (as compared to alternative search engines or conversations with AI chatbots), that Google Trends data can provide meaningful depiction of this process.
As explained in FAQ about Google Trends data,[7] its aim is to “display interest in a particular topic from around the globe or down to city-level geography.” Search data is normalized “to the time and location of a query … each data point is divided by the total searches of the geography and time range it represents to compare relative popularity … the resulting numbers are then scaled on a range of 0 to 100 based on a topic’s proportion to all searches on all topics.”
Some categories of searches are filtered out, including: (i) searches made by very few people; (ii) repeated searches from the same person over a short period of time; (iii) queries with apostrophes and other special characters as well as (iv) searches made by Google products and services. However, it is admitted that data “can also reflect irregular search activity, such as automated searches or queries that may be associated with attempts to spam our search results.”[8]
Technically, public Google Trends tool produces data using “largely unfiltered sample[9] of actual search requests made to Google.” The “real time” data relies on sample spanning seven days only, however it can be accessed in intervals up to one minute – frequency sufficiently high to trace reactions to the political speech. Unfortunately, reliance on sampling and the “rolling” character of the data diminishes replicability of the results.
Summing up, the search data provided by public Google Trends tool have serious limitations from the scientific point of view. Indeed, users are directly reminded that it is “not scientific and might not be a perfect mirror of search activity.”
However, it offers too many opportunities to be simply ignored, as indicated by application to the topics ranging from macroeconomics (Varian & Choi, 2012), electoral politics (Prado-Román et al. 2021) and pandemic dynamics (Saegner & Austys, 2022).
3) The Results
To gain in-depth insight into the search patterns of US general public during the SOTU address, “real time” Google Trends data for the territory of the United States had been collected with highest available frequency – i.e. with one-minute intervals. The data spanned window from 9:00 PM to 11:00 PM Eastern Time, with SOTU address scheduled at 9:00 PM ET (actually started at 9:11 PM ET).
By design, the values of the search volume index ranged from 0 to 100 – which, in this particular sample, denoted the search volume for “Trump” at 9:42 PM, after President discussed “Trump Accounts”.
3.1. Searches related to the individuals mentioned during the 2026 SOTU address
To demonstrate analytical potential of “real time” Google Trends data for analysis high-profile political speeches, search volume for each of the 30 individuals explicitly referred to by the President Trump during 2026 SOTU address (see table 1 for list) had been plotted on figure 1.
Table 1. Summary of individuals mentioned by President Donald J. Trump during 2026 SOTU address
Name
Description based on the President Trump’s address and open sources
Joe Biden
46th US President
Connor Hellebuyck
Ice-hockey goaltender, gold medalist of Team U.S.A.
Buddy Taggart
World War II veteran
Milly Cate McClymond
Survivor of Texas flood of 4 July 2025
Scott Ruskan
Coast Guard rescue swimmer during Texas flood of 4 July 2025
Megan Hemhauser
Beneficiary of President Trump’s tax cuts
M. and S. Dell
Donors of the $6,250,000,000 to fund the “Trump accounts”
Brad Gerstner
Another donor for “Trump accounts”
Catherine Rayner
Beneficiary of President Trump’s drug discounts, undergoing IVF
Raysall Wiggins
Placed bids on 20 homes but lost to gigantic investment firms
Nancy Pelosi
Member of the U.S. House of Representatives
Dalilah Coleman
Victim of a car crash caused by “illegal alien”
Lizbeth Medina
Victim of a murder committed by “illegal alien”
Sage Blair
In 2021 socially transitioned to a new gender
Melania Trump
The First Lady
Charlie Kirk
Assassinated MAGA activist
Anya Zarutska
Ukrainian war refugee, victim of a murder
Sarah Beckstrom
National Guard Specialist killed in the terrorist attack in Washington, DC
Andrew Wolfe
National Guard Staff Sgt., survivor of the terrorist attack in Washington, DC
Steve Witkoff
Special Envoy
Jared Kushner
Special Envoy, Ivanka Trump’s husband
Marco Rubio
U.S. Secretary of State
Suleimani
Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps general killed in U.S. attack
Nicolás Maduro
President of Venezuela raided by US forces in 2026
Delcy Rodríguez
Acting president of Venezuela
E. and A. Gonzalez
Venezuelan opposition leader freed from prison and his niece
Eric Slover
U.S. Army Chief Warrant Officer 5, helicopter pilot during Maduro raid
Royce Williams
World War II, Korean war and Vietnam war veteran
Thomas Jefferson
Founder of the USA, Third US President
Source: Own compilation based on transcript by The New York Times[10]
As one could expect, celebrity status of C. Hellebuyck and Melania Trump was reflected in the volume of related searches. Other individuals mentioned by President Trump, who attracted highest search volumes involved: (i) Michael and Susan Dell and (ii) Brad Gerstner – “Trump Accounts” donors, (iii) Nancy Pelosi, (iv) Sage Blair – personifying narrative on risks associated with gender transition, (v) Charlie Kirk – assassinated MAGA activist, (vi) Andrew Wolfe – Washington D.C. terrorist attack survivor , (vii) Marco Rubio – US Secretary of State and (viii) Royce Williams – war veteran awarded with Congressional Medal of Honor.
Undoubtedly the exact reasons for “googling” specific individuals in a given time can differ. To use example of Nancy Pelosi, first peak involved President’s quip on Stop Insider Trading Act, and the second coincided with her appearance in Fox broadcast[11] wearing “Release the Files” button.[12] Despite that, the search volume for “Epstein” remained unaffected (see fig. 2). One can imagine that peak for Thomas Jefferson reflected the attempts to fact-check date of his death provided by the President.
3..2. Search words related to key issues raised by President Trump during 2026 SOTU address
Figure 2 plots second group of keywords examined in this note – those related to the topics raised by the President Trump, selected on the basis of the transcript of the speech.
The top panel illustrates the most-searched keywords, starting with the President himself, D.E.I. and two Trump-named programs – “Trump accounts” (saving vehicle for American children[13]) and TrumpRX (website providing access to large discounts on high-priced medicines[14]). Also, the recent decision of the Supreme Court on tariffs and President’s quip on the renaming of Fort Bragg had been reflected in “googling” data.
The middle panel illustrates primarily keywords referring to the economy and costs of living. Despite President Trump’s references to the inflation data or the remarks on the price of eggs and beef, there is no doubt that “$1.85 a gallon for gasoline” inspired the most factchecking.
Finally, the searches on crime and murder peaked as President Trump urged Congress to pass “tough legislation to make sure violent and dangerous repeat offenders are put behind bars, and importantly, that they stay there” (search volume for murder previously peaked when President proclaimed that the “murder rate saw its single largest decline in recorded history”). Also, President’s references to the insider trading and voter ID legislation – as well as quips on “Somali pirates who ransacked Minnesota” – had been reflected in the respective keywords search volumes.
In a survey conducted for the CNN,[15] 45% of respondents claimed that the President focused too little on the economy and costs of living (according to 53% it was the right amount) and 38% claimed that he focused too much on immigration (according to 56% it was the right amount) – assessment that seems consistent with patterns observed in web searches. As of foreign policy 62% claimed the President devoted the right amount.
Given substantial search volumes for D.E.I. and two Trump-named programs, it is interesting to explore their state-level differences. The data indicates that in some states D.E.I. was “googled” much more intensely than both Trump-named programs (like Rhode Island and Vermont). TrumpRX attracted considerably more attention than D.E.I. in several Republican states, as well as District of Columbia and Virginia. “Trump Accounts” did so in Alaska, Montana and D.C., but not in South Dakota.
4) Conclusions
The goal of this note was to introduce high frequency “real time” Google Trends data as a tool for examining the general public’s reactions to the high-profile political speeches. Contrary to the well-known dial-testing – providing data on emotional reactions – “googling” patterns offers glimpse into the cognitive reactions – actual efforts to obtain additional information on the issues introduced in the speech. The 2026 SOTU address by President Trump offered promising testing ground for such tool, due to its prominence, length, range of topics and extraordinary invitees personifying the key narratives.
To illustrate its analytic potential, one can compare obtained results with the conventional wisdom on 2026 SOTU. In particular, relatively scant attention is paid to the issue of TrumpRX or “Trump Accounts” – that actually inspired a lot of information searching.
That could indicate, that as of 2026, programmes directed at the material needs of voters – although with distinct, US characteristics, like reliance on market mechanisms and billionaire donations – could resonate among President Trump’s bases. Thereby, their importance in his political strategy could increase.
Moreover, as judged by “googling” patterns, topics like D.E.I., political correctness (like renaming Fort Bragg) still attract attention of US public. The interest in the history of Sage Blair confirmed that her story offered engaging example of framing culture war issues.
If indeed deployed, the mix of policies addressing material needs of anti-elitist voters coupled with the culture war narrative could provide MAGA with the sort of “bread and circuses” already deployed by Central European illiberals, ending what Timothy Snyder called “sado-populism.”
(*) Kamil Joński, Ph.D. is an assistant in the Department of Tax Law at the Warsaw School of Economics (SGH) and an economist by training. He holds a degree from SGH and is currently employed as part of a research project at the institution. Dr. Joński has participated in several research projects funded by the National Science Centre and conducted at the Warsaw School of Economics, the University of Economics in Kraków, and Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań. His research focuses on the functioning of public institutions—particularly common and administrative courts—as well as public policy formulation and implementation, tax policy, and legislative processes.
References
Peters, G. (2026). “Length of State of the Union Addresses in Minutes (from 1966).” The American Presidency Project. Ed. John T. Woolley and Gerhard Peters. Santa Barbara, CA: University of California. 1999-2026. Available at: https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/node/324136/ (accessed on February 26, 2026).
Prado-Román, C.; Gómez-Martínez, R.; Orden-Cruz, C. (2021). “Google Trends as a Predictor of Presidential Elections: The United States Versus Canada.” American Behavioral Scientist. 2021;65(4):666-680. doi:10.1177/0002764220975067
Saegner, T; Austys, D. (2022). “Forecasting and Surveillance of COVID-19 Spread Using Google Trends: Literature Review.” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 2022, Sep 29;19(19):12394. doi: 10.3390/ijerph191912394.
Kirk R.; D. Schill. (2011). “CNN’s Dial Testing of the Presidential Debates. Parameters of Discussion in Tech Driven Politics.” In: Hendricks, J.A., & Kaid, L.L. (Eds.), Techno Politics in Presidential Campaigning: New Voices, New Technologies, and New Voters, Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203851265
Footnotes
[1] https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/2026/02/25/our-language-analysis-of-donald-trumps-state-of-the-union-address (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[2] https://www.nielsen.com/news-center/2026/32-6-million-watch-2026-state-of-the-union-address/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[3] https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/27411442-cnn-poll-conducted-by-ssrs-state-of-the-union-reaction/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[4] LSE public event “American foreign policy in the age of Trump”, 19 February 2026, available at: https://youtu.be/5OhbCXoJ-kM?list=PLK4elntcUEy3kR3B4Ws8PcKndb1g5a68Y&t=779 11584551 (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[5] https://www.foxnews.com/politics/voters-react-trump-touts-signature-tariff-plan-state-union (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[6] https://medium.com/google-news-lab/what-is-google-trends-data-and-what-does-it-mean-b48f07342ee8 (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[7] https://support.google.com/trends/answer/4365533 (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[8] It is explained that “these searches may be retained in Google Trends as a security measure: filtering them from Google Trends would help those issuing such queries to understand we’ve identified them”.
[9] As explained later: “Providing access to the entire data set would be too large to process quickly. By sampling data, we can look at a dataset representative of all Google searches, while finding insights that can be processed within minutes of an event happening in the real world”.
[10] https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/25/us/politics/state-of-the-union-transcript-trump.html (Accessed 2 March 2026). See also text and video available at: https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/node/386357 (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[11] Video recording by LiveNOW from FOX, available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zF7Vve53z4k (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[12] https://nypost.com/2026/02/24/us-news/democratic-womens-caucus-reps-wear-all-white-attire-epstein-related-pins-to-state-of-the-union-2026-address/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[13] https://www.whitehouse.gov/research/2025/08/trump-accounts-give-the-next-generation-a-jump-start-on-saving/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[14] https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2026/02/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-launches-trumprx-gov-to-bring-lower-drug-prices-to-american-patients/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
[15] https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/27411442-cnn-poll-conducted-by-ssrs-state-of-the-union-reaction/ (Accessed 2 March 2026).
Professor Jeffrey Kopstein argues that Trumpism is best analyzed not primarily as populism, but as patrimonial rule—where “the state itself becomes an extension of the ruler’s household” and governance turns into “a family business.” In this ECPS interview, Professor Kopstein distinguishes patrimonialism from classic competitive authoritarianism: rather than merely “tilting the playing field,” patrimonial leaders seek to “own the entire field.” He traces how loyalty tests, selective legality, and the “monetization of office” reshape elite incentives and accelerate institutional hollowing. Drawing on Weberian theory, Professor Kopstein warns that irreversibility arrives when career survival depends on pleasing a patron rather than serving an office—and when the line between public and private interests starts to seem “quaint.” The interview also examines selective impunity, conditional judicial autonomy, personalized coercion, and why democratic resistance must target structural vulnerabilities rather than “waiting for collapse.”
Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Jeffrey Kopstein, Professor of Political Science at the University of California, Irvine, offers a conceptually rigorous reinterpretation of Trumpism that moves beyond the familiar vocabulary of populism and competitive authoritarianism. Anchored in Weberian state theory and comparative authoritarianism, Professor Kopstein argues that the most analytically precise framework for understanding the contemporary transformation of American governance is patrimonialism—a form of rule in which the state is treated as the personal domain of the leader. As he memorably puts it, under patrimonial logic “the state itself becomes an extension of the ruler’s household,” collapsing the boundary between public authority and private interest and turning governance into what he repeatedly calls “a family business.”
Professor Kopstein’s intervention challenges dominant scholarly narratives that focus primarily on rhetoric, electoral manipulation, or ideological polarization. While competitive authoritarianism“rigs the game,” he contends, patrimonialism seeks something more radical: ownership of the system itself. In his words, the logic is “not simply to tilt the playing field, but to own the entire field.” This shift, he suggests, captures a deeper transformation from constitutional republicanism toward personalized rule structured by loyalty, selective legality, and the monetization of office. Trumpism, he argues, is best understood through this lens because its defining features—“loyalty tests, public humiliation of subordinates, monetization of office, and the personalization of coercive authority”—are not incidental pathologies but the governing principle of the system.
A central theme of the interview is institutional hollowing. Drawing on Max Weber’s theory of modern bureaucracy, Professor Kopstein explains how privileging personal loyalty over professional expertise erodes state capacity from within. When career advancement depends on pleasing the patron rather than serving impersonal offices, information deteriorates, policy becomes erratic, and public goods provision declines. The critical threshold, he warns, is reached when citizens and elites alike lose the ability to distinguish between public and private interests—when that distinction begins to seem “quaint.” At that point, patrimonial consolidation is effectively complete.
Equally significant is Professor Kopstein’s analysis of elite incentives. When public office becomes a revenue stream, neutrality becomes costly and adaptation becomes rational. Economic success increasingly depends not on market entrepreneurship but on proximity to power, reversing the conventional liberal assumption that wealth generates political influence. In patrimonial systems, he notes, the causal arrow often runs in the opposite direction: political power produces wealth. This dynamic helps explain why scandals, legal controversies, or reputational crises frequently fail to weaken such regimes. Surviving scandal without consequences signals immunity and reinforces an aura of invincibility among supporters.
By reframing Trumpism as a patrimonial project rather than merely a populist movement, Professor Kopstein invites scholars to redirect analytical attention from mass ideology to elite control over institutions, resources, and coercive capacity. The interview thus situates contemporary American politics within a broader comparative perspective on personalist rule, offering a sobering account of how democratic systems can be gradually transformed without the overt dismantling of formal institutions.
In this ECPS interview, Dr. Soheila Shahriari offers a theoretically grounded diagnosis of Rojava’s most precarious post-ISIS moment. She argues that the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria should be understood not as a wartime improvisation, but as a long-evolving counter-hegemonic project rooted in democratic confederalism, gender equality, pluralism, and social ecology. Yet Dr. Shahriari underscores a stark geopolitical constraint: without formal recognition and enforceable guarantees from Western actors—especially the EU and the United States—Rojava lacks the diplomatic leverage to secure a durable decentralized settlement with Damascus. The interview explores how instrumental Western engagement, Turkey’s securitization paradigm, and Syria’s recentralization drive converge to endanger non-state democratic experiments. It also examines diaspora mobilization, the global resonance of Kurdish women’s politics, and the fragile future of local partnerships in conflict zones.
Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Soheila Shahriari from École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS) in France offers a wide-ranging and theoretically grounded assessment of the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (Rojava) at a moment of profound uncertainty. As shifting regional alignments, great-power bargaining, and Syrian state consolidation converge to narrow the space for Kurdish self-rule, Dr. Shahriari situates Rojava not merely as a wartime anomaly but as a counter-hegemonic democratic experiment struggling to survive in an international system dominated by state sovereignty, realpolitik, and authoritarian resurgence. The interview is organized around a central warning captured in the headline: Without formal recognition and protection from Western actors, Rojava lacks the diplomatic leverage necessary to secure a durable decentralized settlement with Damascus.
Dr. Shahriari argues that the current crisis stems less from military weakness than from structural diplomatic isolation. Despite their decisive role in defeating ISIS alongside the United States, Kurdish-led forces failed to convert battlefield legitimacy into institutional guarantees. The January ceasefire and negotiations over integration into Syrian state structures illustrate the narrowing options available to the Autonomous Administration under pressure from Damascus, Ankara, and shifting US priorities. In this context, Dr. Shahriari emphasizes that external recognition is not symbolic but constitutive of survival: without enforceable guarantees from actors such as the European Union and the United States, any decentralization arrangement risks becoming a temporary tactical compromise rather than a stable power-sharing order.
At the same time, the interview highlights the distinctive ideological and institutional character of the Rojava project. Dr. Shahriari describes it as an anti-statist political paradigm rooted in democratic confederalism, gender equality, pluralism, and ecological principles—an alternative model of governance emerging amid global democratic recession and Middle Eastern authoritarian consolidation. The conversation also explores how women-led institutions function as a “symbolic infrastructure” of resilience, how diaspora activism and transnational networks have reshaped Kurdish political imaginaries, and how the global visibility of Kurdish women fighters transformed international legitimacy. Yet these achievements, she notes, have not translated into formal diplomatic recognition, leaving the experiment vulnerable to geopolitical bargaining among states.
The interview also examines the structural limits of liberal internationalism and the instrumental nature of Western engagement with non-state democratic actors. Dr. Shahriari contends that Western powers’ prioritization of strategic alliances—particularly with Turkey—over normative commitments has undermined both Rojava’s prospects and the credibility of democratic rhetoric. Consequently, the future of Kurdish self-administration depends not only on negotiations with Damascus but on whether Western governments are willing to move from tactical cooperation to institutional protection.
Ultimately, Dr. Shahriari frames Rojava’s predicament as emblematic of a broader tension in contemporary world politics: the clash between innovative democratic experiments and an international order still organized around sovereign states and security competition. Whether Rojava becomes a model of negotiated decentralization or a casualty of regional power politics, she concludes, will depend on the availability of credible external guarantees—without which even the most resilient non-state democracy faces structural vulnerability.
