Illustration: Design Rage.

A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries

Nguijoi, Gabriel Cyrille. (2024). “A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. September 19, 2024. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0018

 

In this book, Professor Pranab Bardhan examines the complex interplay between economic and cultural insecurities through a mixture of empirical data and comparative case studies covering different socio-political backgrounds. It emphasizes populist politics by capitalizing on widespread feelings of vulnerability and disenchantment with traditional democratic institutions. Bardhan argues that populists tend to adopt a simplified, emotive rhetoric that appeals to fears of economic displacement, cultural loss, and existential threats, thereby circumventing nuanced, evidence-based discussions on the actual causes of insecurity. Unlike many studies that narrowly focus on economic inequality as the sole driver of populism, Bardhan’s work explores the broader spectrum of insecurities-economic, cultural, and existential-that foster democratic disenchantment. This book makes a significant contribution to the literature by providing a comprehensive, interdisciplinary analysis that enhances our understanding of the multifaceted challenges facing democracies today.

Reviewed by Dr. Gabriel Cyrille Nguijoi 

How do global societies navigate the increasing complexities and contradictions inherent in democratic governance amidst rising insecurity? What roles do economic anxieties, and cultural tensions play in shaping populist movements across the world? Why is understanding the multifaceted forms of insecurity essential to diagnosing the current democratic crisis? What drives citizens, particularly in diverse socio-political contexts, to place their trust in authoritarian figures who promise stability and protection? 

These are the pressing questions that Pranab Bardhan, Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Economics at the University of California, Berkeley, addresses in his critical work, A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries. Published by Harvard University Press in 2022, Bardhan’s book offers a comprehensive exploration of the factors driving democratic backsliding and the erosion of civic norms across both developed and developing countries. Drawing on a wealth of empirical data and comparative case studies, Bardhan challenges the prevailing assumption that rising inequality is the sole driver of democratic disenchantment, proposing instead that a broader and deeper sense of insecurity-economic, cultural, and existential is at the core of this global phenomenon. Through a rigorous interdisciplinary approach, Bardhan offers a nuanced analysis that bridges the divide between the experiences of rich and poor countries, demonstrating that the threats to democracy are both universal in their essence and unique in their manifestation.

Bardhan’s exploration begins with an incisive critique of the commonly held belief that economic inequality is the predominant cause of democratic erosion. While acknowledging the importance of inequality, Bardhan shifts the focus toward a more complex web of insecurities that underlie the current discontent with democratic governance. He argues that economic insecurity, which includes job loss, wage stagnation, and the erosion of social safety nets, has fundamentally altered the political landscape in both wealthy and poorer nations. Drawing from recent data from the V-Dem Institute, Freedom House, and other democratic indexes, he notes that the world is witnessing a dramatic rise in “autocratization” with liberal democracies declining in number and influence. Autocracies now govern the majority of the world’s population, and only a small fraction of people live in countries that are becoming more democratic. The author’s argument is that this is not simply the result of increased economic inequality but is deeply tied to broader insecurities that extend beyond the economic domain, encompassing cultural, social, and even existential dimensions.

The book meticulously dissects the interplay between economic insecurity and cultural anxieties. Bardhan emphasizes that the economic anxieties triggered by globalization, automation, and technological disruptions have been compounded by cultural insecurities related to immigration, national identity, and perceived threats to social cohesion. He examines the populist backlash against globalization, noting that while there has been some decline in international trade due to geopolitical tensions and supply chain disruptions, the more significant issue is the perceived cultural threat posed by immigrants and minorities. Bardhan draws on case studies from various countries, including the United States, India, Brazil, and European nations, to illustrate how populist leaders exploit these insecurities to foster support for authoritarian measures. He highlights how figures like Donald Trump, Narendra Modi, Jair Bolsonaro, Viktor Orbán, and Recep Tayyip Erdogan have utilized nationalist rhetoric, historical grievances, and cultural myths to galvanize support and undermine democratic norms. By framing their leadership as a defense against external and internal enemies, these leaders create a narrative of existential threat that justifies the erosion of democratic institutions and civil liberties.

Bardhan’s analysis is particularly compelling in its examination of the dynamics of “majoritarianism” and the way populist leaders manipulate democratic processes to entrench their power. He provides a thorough critique of how elected leaders in countries such as India, Hungary, Turkey, and the United States have systematically undermined judicial independence, curtailed press freedom, and eroded checks and balances to consolidate authority. He argues that these leaders exploit cultural insecurities, presenting themselves as defenders of the “real” people against corrupt elites and dangerous minorities. This tactic resonates strongly with populations experiencing rapid social and economic change, who feel their traditional ways of life are under threat. The author presents evidence that these populist strategies are often successful in garnering mass support, especially in environments where economic insecurities are compounded by cultural fears of displacement and loss.

In addition to his analysis of populism and majoritarianism, Bardhan also tackles the growing attraction to authoritarian capitalism, particularly the “China model.” He explores how China’s perceived economic success has led to a fascination with authoritarian governance in many parts of the world, both among political elites and ordinary citizens who are disillusioned with democratic performance. He critiques the simplistic binary of democracy versus authoritarianism, arguing that the success of the Chinese model is not purely a result of its authoritarian nature but is also due to specific historical, institutional, and policy factors that are not easily replicable elsewhere. He points out that many democratic countries have adopted elements of state-led capitalism, such as strategic state investments in key industries, without abandoning democratic governance. Bardhan thus challenges the notion that authoritarianism is necessary for economic development, arguing instead for a democratic governance model that incorporates strong state capacity and effective public policies to promote social and economic stability.

Throughout the book, he skillfully combines theoretical insights with empirical data to support his arguments. He uses a wealth of examples from different regions to illustrate the universality and specificity of democratic disenchantment. For instance, he draws parallels between the cultural nationalism of Modi’s (India), which seeks to marginalize religious and ethnic minorities, and Trump’s (America), where the rhetoric of “America First” has been used to justify exclusionary policies and undermine democratic norms. The author’s global perspective is one of the major strengths of the book, as it allows him to highlight both the commonalities and differences in the experiences of democratic backsliding across various contexts.

The interdisciplinary approach is another notable feature of Bardhan’s book. He draws on insights from economics, political science, sociology, and cultural studies to provide a comprehensive understanding of the forces driving democratic erosion. His discussion of the economic dimensions of insecurity, such as the impact of globalization and automation on job security and wages, is particularly illuminating. Bardhan also explores how cultural insecurities are intertwined with economic anxieties, as people who feel left behind by economic changes often perceive themselves to be culturally marginalized as well. This dual focus on economic and cultural insecurity provides a more nuanced understanding of the populist challenge to democracy, as it shows how these two forms of insecurity reinforce each other to create a fertile ground for authoritarianism.

His discussion of potential solutions to the democratic crisis is just as thorough and well-founded. He advocates for a rejuvenation of social democracy as a viable alternative to both unfettered capitalism and authoritarian populism. Bardhan argues that social democracy, with its emphasis on social justice, economic security, and democratic participation, offers a path forward that can address the insecurities driving democratic discontent. He suggests that social democrats must reorient their policies to better address the needs of those who feel left behind by globalization and technological change. This includes advocating for policies such as universal basic income, progressive taxation, and public investment in education, healthcare, and infrastructure. He also emphasizes the importance of strengthening democratic institutions and promoting civic engagement to counter the influence of populist narratives and rebuild trust in democratic governance.

However, Bardhan does not shy away from acknowledging the challenges and limitations of his proposed solutions. He recognizes that the revival of social democracy will require significant reforms in welfare states, labor markets, and public finance, which may be politically difficult to achieve, especially in contexts where democratic institutions are already weakened. He also discusses the challenges of implementing social democratic policies in countries with weaker state capacity and more polarized political environments. He provides a critical examination of the obstacles to policy implementation, including resistance from powerful vested interests, bureaucratic inefficiencies, and the complexity of coordinating policy efforts across different levels of government. The author’s recognition of these challenges adds depth to his analysis and prevents it from becoming overly idealistic.

The book concludes with a reflection on the future of democracy in an age of insecurity. Bardhan reiterates his argument that the current crisis is not merely a result of economic inequality but is rooted in deeper insecurities that cut across economic, cultural, and social dimensions. He calls for a renewed commitment to democratic values and institutions, emphasizing that the solution to democratic disenchantment lies not in abandoning democracy but in reimagining it to meet the challenges of the twenty-first century. Bardhan’s call for a rejuvenation of social democracy is both a critique of current democratic practices and a hopeful vision for the future. He argues that by addressing the insecurities that fuel populism, democracies can be revitalized and made more resilient to the challenges they face.

Overall, Bardhan’s book A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries is a thought-provoking and timely contribution to the literature on democratic erosion and populism. It offers a fresh perspective on the current democratic crisis by shifting the focus from inequality to insecurity and provides a nuanced analysis of the complex forces driving democratic disenchantment around the world. The book’s comparative approach, interdisciplinary method, and focus on both developed and developing countries make it a valuable resource for scholars, policymakers, and anyone interested in understanding the future of democracy. While Bardhan’s call for a revival of social democracy is compelling, his analysis also serves as a sobering reminder of the challenges involved in achieving such a transformation. The book is a must-read for those seeking to understand the underlying causes of democratic backsliding and the potential pathways to democratic renewal in an age of uncertainty and insecurity.


 

Bardhan, P. (2022). A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries. Harvard University Press. 240 pp. Hardcover €25.95, ISBN 9780674259843

People wait in a long line to receive food donations for lunch on a downtown street in São Paulo, Brazil, during a severe economic crisis caused by the COVID-19 pandemic on June 2, 2020. Photo: Nelson Antoine.

Social Policies in Times of Austerity and Populism: Lessons from Brazil

Kenes, Bulent. (2024). “Social Policies in Times of Austerity and Populism: Lessons from Brazil.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. August 26, 2024. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0017


The book, edited by Professor Natália Sátyro, provides a comprehensive examination of how neoliberal and populist radical right ideologies and politicians have reshaped Brazil’s social policy landscape. Through a detailed analysis of various policy areas, the contributing authors reveal the destructive impact of these ideologies on social protections and democratic institutions. For scholars and policymakers, this book is an essential resource for understanding the interplay between austerity, populism, and social policy in Brazil, as well as its broader implications for the global rise of the populist radical right. While the book is dense with figures, statistics, and technical financial and economic data, it remains essential reading for anyone interested in these critical issues. Sátyro and her Brazilian colleagues offer valuable insights that are well worth attention.

Reviewed by Bulent Kenes

Social Policies in Times of Austerity and Populism: Lessons from Brazil,” edited by Natália Sátyro, provides a comprehensive analysis of the significant shifts in Brazil’s social policies during the turbulent period spanning Michel Temer’s and Jair Bolsonaro’s presidencies. Beginning with Dilma Rousseff’s impeachment in 2016 and concluding with Bolsonaro’s departure in 2022, this era was marked by profound changes driven by neoliberal economic policies and the rise of populist radical right ideologies. As the title suggests, the book explores the intersection of radical right populism and austerity measures in Brazil, particularly under Jair Bolsonaro’s presidency. Featuring cutting-edge research by Brazilian scholars, previously inaccessible to English-speaking audiences, the book offers a timely and authoritative multidisciplinary examination of social policies during Temer’s austerity measures and Bolsonaro’s populist rule. 

The diverse range of policies analyzed in the book provides critical insights into the political agenda, preferences, and strategies that shaped this tumultuous chapter in Brazil’s history. Therefore, readers encounter concepts from various disciplines throughout the book such as ‘distributive deservingness,’ ‘disinformation order,’ ‘disinformation,’ ‘misinformation,’ ‘malinformation,’ ‘infodemic,’ ‘social inclusion,’ ‘retrenchment populism,’ and ‘bancarization,’ among many others, reflecting the complexity and breadth of the topics addressed. However, this review focuses solely on the perspectives of neoliberalism and populist radical right approaches, highlighting how these ideologies have influenced the dismantling and reconfiguration of social policies in Brazil. Specifically, it examines how Bolsonaro’s populist radical right policies contributed to the erosion of social protections, mirroring trends seen among right-wing populist leaders globally. The review deliberately omits technical discussions on economic, financial, and social policies not directly related to the core theme of populism.

The book tackles several critical questions within the Brazilian context, such as whether there has been a deliberate effort to dismantle or reshape social policies. It explores whether populist radical right parties (PRRPs) in Brazil are genuinely distinct from the mainstream right, particularly in their stance on the welfare state, and if so, how they differ. The book also delves into how political parties’ positions on state intervention, redistribution, and social policymaking differentiate the left from the right in Brazil. Furthermore, it examines the ways in which the populist radical right diverges from the traditional right on economic, cultural, and social issues.

Given the success of the leftist Workers’ Party (PT) governments in politicizing inequality, the book investigates how right-wing actors have responded, particularly in terms of expanding or reducing the welfare state. It also considers how emerging anti-system, radical right forces have distinguished themselves from the traditional right in their approaches to redistribution, social policies, and increasingly significant cultural issues. Additionally, the book explores the impact of populist radical right parties on family policies, among other related topics. Overall, the book addresses a wide range of social policies, including social security, healthcare, education, environmental protection, indigenous rights, and gun control. Each chapter is grounded in empirical research, providing in-depth analysis of the effects of Bolsonaro’s policies.

Sátyro’s work is divided into four parts, focusing on social policy changes in Brazil, particularly from 2015 to 2022. The first section, “Contextualization,” offers an overview of Brazil’s political and economic conditions leading up to Bolsonaro’s presidency. It highlights the influence of the neoliberal agenda—marked by fiscal austerity, deregulation, and market-driven policies—on the transformation of social policies. The analysis begins with austerity measures under Temer, setting the stage for further cutbacks under Bolsonaro. The introduction discusses the political shift from the PT to Temer’s right-wing coalition after Rousseff’s impeachment, initiating significant reductions in social welfare. It also covers Bolsonaro’s rise in 2018, driven by populist rhetoric, anti-corruption campaigns, and support from neo-Pentecostal groups. His government further dismantled social policies, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic, exacerbating the crisis through denialism and poor coordination. Sátyro frames the erosion of Brazil’s social protection system within neoliberal and authoritarian values under both Temer and Bolsonaro, raising questions about the dismantling of the welfare state and the role of right-wing populism in these processes. The introduction chapter sets the stage for the book’s exploration of how right-wing governments have reshaped social protection in Brazil.

In Chapter 2, “Social Policies in Brazil: An Introduction,” Natália Sátyro discusses the foundations of social protection in Brazil since the 1988 Federal Constitution (CF88), which followed the return to democracy in 1985. She places Bolsonaro’s actions within the broader context of global right-wing populism and highlights the ongoing exclusion of informal workers, particularly descendants of enslaved Africans, from social and political rights—a legacy of Brazil’s history as the last country in the Americas to abolish slavery. Sátyro also examines the complexities of Brazil’s federal system, where smaller states have disproportionate influence, complicating national policymaking and limiting presidential power. She critiques the fragmented implementation of policies across Brazil’s 26 states, particularly in education, due to the lack of a unified system. The chapter also addresses the Bolsonaro administration’s inconsistent approach to social policies during the COVID-19 pandemic, which worsened the crisis due to a lack of national coordination. It concludes by outlining the central themes of Bolsonaro’s government plan, including his use of religion and patriotism to appeal to conservative voters, supported by neo-Pentecostal leaders. This sets the stage for the book’s detailed exploration of specific policy areas impacted by these political shifts.

Chapter 3, “Political Parties, Ideological Preferences and Social Policy: Accounting for Right-Wing Strategies in Brazil after the Left Turn,” by André Borges, maps the political landscape, focusing on the interactions between the Executive and Legislative branches and the rise of right-wing influence. Borges draws parallels between Bolsonaro and populist leaders like Donald Trump and Viktor Orbán, highlighting their use of populist rhetoric to dismantle social protections and undermine democratic institutions. The chapter explains how the populist radical right’s emphasis on cultural issues allows them to avoid direct conflict with neoliberal policies, which might alienate their base. Traditionally, Latin American politics has focused more on economic issues due to high inequality, but recent years have seen a shift toward cultural issues, driven in part by the growing influence of evangelical churches in electoral politics. This shift facilitated the rise of far-right populist leaders, including Bolsonaro in 2018.

Borges divides Brazil’s right-wing into two groups: the mainstream right and the populist radical right (PRR). Through statistical analysis, he shows that while both groups align on economic issues, they differ sharply on cultural matters, with the PRR adopting more extreme conservative positions. The chapter illustrates how the Brazilian right has reorganized around religious and anti-political movements, leading to the successful mobilization of diverse electoral coalitions. Bolsonaro’s rise is linked to this realignment, with his campaign centered on cultural conservatism and anti-establishment rhetoric, mirroring broader trends in Latin America.

Chapter 4, “The Political Economy of the Brazilian Economic Crisis (2014–2022): Economic Policy, Ideas, and the Limits of Neoliberal Austerity Measures,” by Alexandre Queiroz Guimarães and Marco Flávio da Cunha Resende, explores the limitations of neoliberal austerity measures in Brazil. Although these policies reduced public spending, they failed to achieve sustainable economic growth, resulting in increased inequality and social unrest. This discontent set the stage for Bolsonaro’s rise, as his populist rhetoric appealed to a population weary of economic hardship. The chapter traces the backlash against neoliberal reforms, which initially led to the rise of center-left governments in Latin America, including Brazil’s PT. Despite initial successes under Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, Brazil struggled with high interest rates and domestic debt. Bolsonaro’s 2018 election brought a radical liberal agenda of privatization and austerity, but the COVID-19 pandemic forced a policy shift toward increased public spending to bolster his reelection chances. His administration’s poor governance, especially in social and environmental areas, contributed to his defeat in 2022. The chapter concludes with Lula’s return to power in 2023, highlighting his focus on social spending, environmental reforms, and economic recovery.

Chapter 5, “Disinformation and Democracy,” authored by Eliara Santana and Isabele Mitozo, examines the use of disinformation as a political strategy of obfuscation, highlighting the significant threat it poses to democracy and, specifically, to social policies. They delve into how disinformation was institutionalized in Brazil during Bolsonaro’s presidency (2018–2022) and used as a strategy to dismantle democratic institutions. The chapter highlights the establishment of a coordinated disinformation ecosystem, which became particularly evident during the 2018 election and the COVID-19 pandemic. This ecosystem was aligned with the federal government and fueled distrust in traditional media, while promoting misinformation, especially regarding public health measures. Bolsonaro’s administration actively undermined democratic institutions by leveraging disinformation, notably through social media platforms like WhatsApp and Telegram. The chapter also discusses the role of Bolsonaro’s “Hate Cabinet,” a group that spread misinformation to attack critics and destabilize democratic processes. This systemic disinformation campaign helped consolidate Bolsonaro’s power and left a lasting impact on Brazilian democracy. Even after Bolsonaro’s 2022 electoral defeat, the disinformation network remains a significant challenge, requiring a concerted effort to restore credibility to institutions and reliable information sources. The authors underscore that any current analysis of PRRPs must consider fake news as a deliberate tool with specific political objectives. 

Chapter 6, authored by Pedro H. G. Ferreira de Souza, examines income inequality and poverty in Brazil since its re-democratization in the 1980s. The 1988 Federal Constitution marked a significant shift in Brazil’s political landscape, emphasizing poverty eradication and inequality reduction as core goals. Despite these ambitions, progress has been uneven. While Brazil has made notable strides in reducing poverty, addressing income inequality has proven more challenging. The country experienced significant poverty reduction and narrowing inequality from the early 2000s until the mid-2010s, but these gains were undermined by the 2014–2016 recession and the COVID-19 pandemic. Under the rule of Bolsonaro, welfare spending reached unprecedented levels, particularly through the expansion of the Auxílio Brasil program in 2022. Despite Bolsonaro’s conservative stance, electoral incentives drove this welfare expansion. The Lula administration, taking office in 2023, continued this trajectory by rebranding the program as Bolsa Família and introducing new benefits. Sustaining these improvements may be difficult without further budget expansions.

The second part of the book, focusing on Compensatory Policies, examines the impact of key events like the 2014–2015 economic crisis, the Temer administration’s New Fiscal Regime, Bolsonaro’s rise, and the COVID-19 pandemic. Chapter 7, by Arnaldo Provasi Lanzara and Fernanda Pernasetti, explores the dismantling of Brazil’s social security system under Bolsonaro within the context of authoritarian populism and fiscal austerity. Despite facing congressional opposition, Bolsonaro implemented significant reforms that mirrored and expanded upon Temer’s unapproved proposals, particularly targeting pension systems. The chapter employs Nadia Urbinati’s concept of “authoritarian populism” to describe Bolsonaro’s approach, which combined populist rhetoric with strict fiscal discipline to gain market confidence while undermining social security. According to the authors, Bolsonaro’s strategy involved exploiting divisions within society, using austerity as a justification to reduce labor and social security benefits, and promoting privatization. The authors argue that, although the reform did not achieve its intended financial savings, it prompted a shift toward private pension plans. This reform, rooted in fiscal austerity, disproportionately impacted low-income workers and the elderly, reflecting a broader trend where economic efficiency was prioritized over social justice. This “expansionist dismantling” weakened essential income supports for poor wage-earner families. The long-term impact of these policies underscores the enduring threat posed by authoritarian populist regimes to social rights and democratic institutions. 

Chapter 8, authored by José Angelo Machado and Mauro Lúcio Jerônymo, discusses the significant risks posed to Brazil’s Unified Health System (SUS) during Bolsonaro’s presidency, particularly in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic response highlighted how neoliberal policies, when coupled with populist denialism, can devastate public health infrastructure, particularly for marginalized communities. Bolsonaro’s administration was marked by a blatant disregard for scientific and technical guidelines, instead promoting disinformation, ineffective treatments, and delaying vaccine acquisition. This strategy, driven by a “parallel cabinet” around Bolsonaro, undermined the cooperative federalism that had traditionally guided SUS operations. The Ministry of Health, under successive ministers, saw increased militarization, disregard for expert advice, and a breakdown in coordination with state and municipal governments. These actions led to severe institutional damage, including the erosion of public trust, loss of qualified personnel, and weakened epidemiological surveillance. According to the authors, Bolsonaro’s administration, with its focus on “deconstructing” existing systems, left a lasting negative impact on Brazil’s public health infrastructure, exacerbating the challenges faced during the pandemic and undermining the foundations of the SUS.

Chapter 9, written by Natália Sátyro, Eleonora Schettini Martins Cunha, Bruno R. Pinheiro, and Fernanda Silva, explores the detrimental effects of austerity and political changes on socio-assistance services in Brazil, particularly under far-right populist leadership. The chapter reveals how these essential services, especially for vulnerable populations, have been progressively undermined since 2014. Initially impacted by budget cuts during Rousseff’s presidency, socio-assistance services faced further challenges under Temer’s administration, which introduced a long-term spending cap that severely limited social spending. The situation deteriorated further under Bolsonaro, whose administration neglected these services and dismantled social participation mechanisms. Bolsonaro’s approach to governance involved discrediting social programs as corrupt or inefficient, using this narrative to justify deep cuts that exacerbated poverty and inequality. The chapter also identifies six distinct social welfare regimes across Brazil’s municipalities, reflecting varying levels of social protection. The COVID-19 pandemic compounded these challenges, intensifying poverty and food insecurity. Overall, the chapter highlights the vulnerability of socio-assistance services to political and economic shifts, particularly under right-wing governments.

Chapter 10, written by Joana Mostafa, analyzes the evolution of Brazil’s two main non-contributive cash transfer programs: Bolsa Família (PBF) and Continuous Benefit Programme (BPC). The chapter tracks changes from the impeachment of Rousseff in 2016 through to Lula’s narrow victory in 2022, highlighting how these programs were affected by political and economic shifts. PBF designed to alleviate poverty by supplementing household incomes, faced discrediting campaigns and reductions in coverage under Bolsonaro’s government, which sought to undermine the program’s structure. Bolsonaro’s administration introduced Auxílio Brasil, a replacement for PBF, emphasizing merit and privatization over social rights, while sidelining social assistance policies and increasing financial vulnerability for beneficiaries. The chapter underscores how Bolsonaro’s government used populist rhetoric to manipulate public perception of poverty, while altering the foundational elements of social assistance, turning the program into a vehicle for neoliberal and conservative ideologies.

The third part of the book, “Social Investment Policies,” includes Chapter 11, where Sandra Gomes and Catarina Ianni Segatto examine Bolsonaro’s symbolic strategies in education policy and how they reinforced his ideological agenda. Elected in 2018 with a far-right populist platform, Bolsonaro framed education as a cultural battleground against leftist ideologies, targeting higher education with budget cuts and promoting conservative values. Despite his rhetoric, Bolsonaro’s administration achieved limited success in enacting structural changes, as many proposals faced resistance in Congress. While minor policy changes occurred, Brazil’s educational framework, rooted in the 1988 Constitution, largely withstood his attempts at a conservative shift. The chapter concludes that Bolsonaro struggled to build a coalition capable of implementing radical education reforms.

Bolsonaro’s populist radical right ideology extended beyond economic policies to cultural and moral issues, particularly in family policies. In Chapter 12, Gabriel Penna and Natália Sátyro explore how his administration reshaped Brazilian family policies under far-right neo-conservatism. The chapter highlights Bolsonaro’s promotion of a traditionalist family structure, opposing gender equality and LGBTQ rights championed by previous governments. His approach emphasized reinforcing patriarchal norms, reducing state involvement in care services, and increasing privatization. By diminishing federal influence and shifting responsibilities to local governments, Bolsonaro’s policies weakened support for non-traditional families and expanded the privatization of childcare services. This reflects the populist radical right’s strategy of aligning social policies with an exclusionary, nationalist vision. The chapter warns that far-right ideologies may continue to obstruct policies supporting sexual and gender minorities and non-traditional families even after Bolsonaro’s presidency.

Chapter 13, by Regina Coeli Moreira Camargos and Pedro M. R. Barbosa, examines labor market policy changes in Brazil from 2015 to 2022, focusing on the erosion of labor protections. The chapter investigates whether this reflects a broader trend of welfare state retrenchment in Brazil. Following Temer’s pro-market reforms, Bolsonaro continued similar policies, especially with the 2019 Social Security reform. However, Bolsonaro prioritized budgetary control to secure legislative support rather than pursuing full austerity. The deterioration of labor conditions disproportionately impacted vulnerable groups, particularly Black women, who faced rising unemployment, poverty, and hunger. Although Bolsonaro sought to further deregulate the labor market, his administration mainly extended the policies initiated under Temer, including weakening labor protections and halting minimum wage increases. Neglect of both active and passive labor market policies deepened workforce inequalities, with the authors highlighting how these reforms reflected a strong neoliberal agenda, increasing risks for workers.

The fourth part of the book, “Policies Outside the Traditional Welfare State Scope,” includes Chapter 14 by Maria Dolores Lima da Silva and Ana Luiza Martins de Medeiros, which examines the strategic dismantling of Brazilian environmental policies under Bolsonaro, particularly targeting forests and indigenous populations. Building on actions from Rousseff and Temer’s governments, Bolsonaro aggressively weakened environmental protections and indigenous rights through financial defunding, regulatory rollbacks, and bureaucratic changes. His administration promoted deregulation, undermined institutions like FUNAI, and appointed ideological allies to key positions, further eroding protections. The use of symbolic and low-visibility strategies catered to powerful economic sectors by dismantling regulatory barriers to economic expansion. The chapter concludes that these policies have caused significant, potentially irreversible damage to Brazil’s environmental protections and indigenous territories, with long-term consequences that will be difficult and costly to address.

Chapter 15, by Ludmila Ribeiro, Valéria Oliveira, Rafael Rocha, and Alexandre Diniz, explores the deterioration of gun control policies in Brazil, particularly under Bolsonaro. Supported by the firearms industry and the “bullet caucus” in Congress, Bolsonaro significantly weakened the Disarmament Statute, leading to a surge in firearms. His administration issued decrees that relaxed restrictions, including increasing the number of firearms civilians could own and removing the need to justify purchases. These changes likely worsened violent crime, with firearms already accounting for over 70% of homicides in Brazil. In 2023, President Lula began reversing these policies, reinstating stricter gun control. However, the authors stress that addressing the weapon proliferation from Bolsonaro’s era will require more than just reverting to previous laws.

In sum, between 2015 and 2022, Brazil’s democracy faced significant challenges, especially in social policy, leading to major shifts in the welfare state. The administrations of Rousseff, Temer, and Bolsonaro each influenced the evolution of social protection differently. The book highlights a departure from the inclusive welfare state established after the 1988 Constitution, which had reduced poverty and inequality until the mid-2010s. From 2015 onward, poverty and inequality rose, particularly under Bolsonaro, who prioritized dismantling policies, reducing equality, and weakening social protections through austerity, deregulation, and erosion of key programs like pensions and healthcare. While some welfare elements, like non-contributory cash transfers, remained resilient, the overall impact was a weakened welfare system, greater inequality, and significant social costs.

In a sense, Brazil stands as a compelling case of resilience, with its institutions having endured significant challenges. Despite the current state of Brazilian democracy being far from ideal, it has withstood a violent and explicit attack. However, more time is needed to fully assess the resilience of the system as a whole and the long-term consequences of the processes analyzed in this book. The authors underscore the urgent need to defend social protections against the encroachment of authoritarian and neoliberal agendas, highlighting the dangers posed by the populist radical right to democracy and social welfare worldwide. While the book is overly dense with figures, statistics, and technical financial and economic information, it is an essential reading for anyone interested in understanding these critical issues. Natália Sátyro and her Brazilian colleagues offer valuable insights that deserve attention.


 

Natália Sátyro. (2024). Social Policies in Times of Austerity and Populism: Lessons from Brazil. Routledge. 412 pp.Paperback £36.99, Hardback £135.00, ISBN 9781032758374 

A sign for the Apartheid Museum stands next to the entrance. The exhibition is dedicated to the apartheid regime and the 20th-century history of South Africa. Artistic retouching was done in Johannesburg, South Africa, on March 30, 2016. Photo: Shutterstock.

Peacemaking & Peacebuilding in South Africa: The National Peace Accord, 1991-1994 

Sithole, Neo. (2024). “Peacemaking & Peacebuilding in South Africa: The National Peace Accord, 1991-1994.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. August 26, 2024. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0016

 

In her book, Reverend Dr. Liz Carmichael unpacks the events, personalities, and socio-cultural, political, and economic realities during South Africa’s peace and transition negotiations from 1990 to 1998. She details the challenges faced by the country’s early popular mass movements and provides insights into the Manichean divide between political organizations. Through a reflective lens, Carmichael addresses the often-overlooked high emotions, ethnic-based societal cleavages, and split-second decisions that characterized the politics of the time. Crucially, the work demonstrates that the discussions surrounding the National Peace Accord were vital not only for bringing a decisive end to the political violence of that period but also for other significant reasons.

Reviewed by Neo Sithole

Violence in South Africa reached a zenith in 1990,  the culmination of internal progressive active resistance carried out by civic society, workers unions, religious bodies and then-banned political organizations in the forms of mass protests, strikes, marches or sit-ins. Former President P.W. Botha’s notions of ‘total onslaught,’ that South Africa was under siege by militarized communist forces that threatened the security of Apartheid South Africa and the white political domination and privilege it upheld and its counterpart ‘total strategy,’ the required combination of reform and repression made necessary the formation of military wings ties to banned liberation movements. In a move to douse socio-political tensions, State President de Klerk decides to lift the ban on political parties and release political prisoners. Instead of introducing calm South Africa saw a shift of violence from the domain brutal Apartheid regime to adversarial political parties the African National Congress and the Inkatha Freedom Party. From massacres on trains and to wars between rival township settlements, ‘black on black’ violence was quickly spreading. Prompted by the scale and absurdity of mass violence various churches galvanized, organizing themselves to bring political parties together to engage in peace talks, a step that would see the adoption of the National Peace Accord, a linchpin document in South Africa’s relatively peaceful transition to a full democracy. 

Due to its examination of political life influenced by some of South Africa’s earliest and largest popular movements (even being viewed as populist by scholars of transitioning South Africa) Reverend Dr. Liz Carmicheal’s work subtly examines themes of direct interest to populist scholars such as the Manichean ‘good vs evil’ and an inclusionary Left battling against an exclusionary Right. Additionally, the book offers examples of ethnic divides that materialize politically often seen in populist rhetoric or strategies. 

In the introduction, author Carmichael offers the book’s aim as being “first full account of the Peace Accord” (pg.1) and how under NPA structures South Africans took part in directly birthing and developing peace and contributing to what would be seen globally as a remarkable transition from a horrific Apartheid regime to an inclusive and uplifting non-racial democracy. Upon review, this is somewhat misleading. Not because the text doesn’t fulfil this, but because when reading what is presented is an extensive detailing of the socio-political environment(s) that surrounded the accord generated continuous shifts in peace talks, the people and personalities that for better or worse had an immediate impact on the outcomes of negotiations, objectives that influenced informed decisions taken by political parties and civic/religious organizations, and the how agreed upon political configurations relied upon principles cooperation between ordinary citizens for their functionality. There exists a reflective habit to ‘telescope’ the period between the unbanning of political parties in 1990 and 1994 when the country held its first, closely watched free and fair elections which is often done by spotlighting a few key moments based on the discretion of who something the book aids in rectifying.

As the title suggests, the book’s central themes are peace-making and peacebuilding, providing what these meant and looked like in South Africa during the peak of internal conflict. A third theme not explicitly mentioned but vividly shown is ‘peace-selling,’ where we see the extent to which the state, in cooperation with business and political parties, knowing that for peace to take root the notion of peace needs to be circulated by means that would be far-reaching and see peace be synonymous with the popular culture to subvert still existing political, regional and racial tensions. Outside of these, there are additional themes that, decades after South Africa transitioned into a democracy, remain salient and prominent within the country’s political, social and economic sphere like the dire need for enduring political tolerance, the touchy relationship between the government, political organizations, and businesses, how realpolitik can supersede ideological cleavages, how political expansion often generates animosity between parties that may hold similar ideological foundations or how certain political organizations built legacies on the kind of support/opposition received from the Apartheid government. 

Carmichael informs readers about how the people at the national level responded to what was very visibly aimed to be a shift in South Africa’s political dispensation and while doing so recognizes some who may not have been immortalized by previous works as being concerned with the business of peacemaking and peacebuilding on the ground. 

The book places significant emphasis on the dynamic between the African National Congress (ANC), the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), and the Apartheid government, primarily due to their pivotal roles in the ongoing political violence of the time. The IFP, initially a cultural organization, transformed into a quasi-political party after the ANC was banned, with the intention of continuing the ANC’s work. However, tensions arose between the IFP and the ANC over ideological differences. The main points of contention included the ANC’s shift toward violent resistance, its calls for intensified boycotts and sanctions against the South African economy (which IFP leader Mangosuthu Buthelezi believed would harm Black South Africans the most), and its increasing alignment with communist influences, which the IFP strongly disapproved of. 

The disputes, primarily stemming from friction between the IFP leadership—centralized around Zulu Chief and party leader Buthelezi—and the ANC leadership in exile, created a complex and multifaceted tension between the two organizations. These disagreements not only served as significant obstacles to peace during the period of violence but also influenced the negotiations leading up to South Africa’s first democratic election. The book highlights key aspects of the ANC-IFP conflict, including the controversial linkages between the IFP and the apartheid regime, which led many to view Inkatha as an extension of the regime’s security apparatus and collaborators in maintaining racial segregation. Additionally, the ANC’s refusal to disband its military wing, which the IFP viewed as a private army and thus a violation of peace accords, further fueled the strain between the two parties.

International sanctions, some in place since the instalment of the National Party in 1948, boycotts had limited the reach of South Africa goods and had caved under mounting internal pressure (notably the student movements) to leave Apartheid South Africa. These mirrored the economic forces internally that demanded change, spurred on by massive losses in profits brought on by stunted productivity, a shrinking market to sell to and crippling hikes in taxes introduced by the government in attempts to boost internal revenue and stave off total economic collapse. The widespread political violence and instability across the country significantly discouraged workers from attending their shifts, as they risked being attacked by rival political factions or killed by an elusive group of unknown assailants. Later in the text, Carmichael reveals that this shadowy group, commonly referred to as the ‘Third Force,’ was a combination of rogue elements within state security, members of political parties, and former liberation militants.

The recurring display of the ANC-IFP rivalry is recounted to have played out in forms across numerous occasions, the rivalry played out reinforces the understanding that for peace to be realistically achieved both parties needed to find themselves politically satisfied with their visions of the space they held in the country’s present and its future.  

Ahistorical oversimplifications of the Left-Right divide present in South Africa at the time are also tackled by the text. The book unpacks the various political parties and organizations that fell across the Left-Right spectrum, in line with their role and relevance during that moment/event and shares their ideological underpinnings or contextualizes any conflicts between them where necessary, and it often is. 

The deep ideological divide that shaped attitudes toward the peace process is thoroughly explored in the text. Dr. Carmichael highlights a notable example during the negotiations of the Peace Accord, where extreme right-wing factions rejected the Accord, labeling it a “communist trap” and a dangerous step toward handing over power to communist forces. They argued that there could be no peace without freedom for their respective “nations” (pg. 135). This rejection was mirrored on the far left by parties such as the Pan-African Congress and the Azanian People’s Organization, along with their allied unions. Initially participating in the peace negotiations as observers, these groups later withdrew from both the peace and future constitutional negotiations, believing that engaging with those they saw as the primary perpetrators of violence against the Black majority undermined the broader struggle for freedom.

Carmichael recounts some of the significant challenges of the peace process, noting that while getting all the necessary parties into the same room was difficult, an even greater challenge was getting leaders to genuinely communicate rather than talking past each other to score political points with their constituencies. On one occasion, a member of the far-right stood up during negotiations and argued that if the talks were truly open to dialogue, they must also entertain the possibility of allowing those who wished to remain segregated to do so.

The involvement of foreign organizations, including the United Nations and the Commonwealth Organization of African Unity, was strongly opposed by the South African government, as many of these entities had, in principle, sided with the ANC, which had called for the continuation of sanctions. Another theme explored in the book is the negotiations that took place outside the official talks. Away from their constituents and the media, where official positions often hindered progress, political leaders would engage in informal discussions at family homes, churches, or even during tea breaks, allowing them to clear disputes and build relationships more freely.

The National Peace Accord (NPA) was primarily a response to the widespread political violence in South Africa, aiming to prevent further bloodshed. Carmichael effectively breaks down how the Accord, once signed, was made functional and enforced. He details the evolution of the NPA, noting that the final agreement included chapters focused on addressing the structural issues contributing to national instability. These included socio-economic development, the restructuring of security forces to better represent the forthcoming democratic South Africa, and, crucially, the establishment of a code of conduct for political parties, the government, and unions.

Carmichael notes that for parties emphasizing consultative consensus with their constituents, there was discomfort with the ‘top-down’ approach taken in the accord negotiations. However, he cites that due to the immediacy and decisiveness demanded by the situation, it was the only viable option. That said, the book highlights that the real work for the NPA and the peace process occurred at the grassroots level, particularly in regions where violence had become entrenched, such as KwaZulu-Natal. This underscores an appreciation for the acknowledgment by NPA officers (many of them volunteers) of the need for varied approaches, as success in some areas relied on personalities and relationships for the effective establishment of NPA structures.

In discussing the sporadic nature of the clashes between party members, the book reveals that much of the political violence was either denied by political leadership or was the result of communities trying to defend themselves, taking pre-emptive action, or retaliating against previous political violence. It also addresses the challenges in finding effective ways to consolidate political cohesion between parties and their leaders on the ground, noting the frequent disruptions to negotiations caused by outbreaks of violence or retaliatory actions. Along these lines, sentiments of skepticism towards the accords are highlighted. Despite the accords being welcomed, there was widespread concern, particularly at the grassroots level, about whether the agreement would be adhered to. This skepticism was fueled by instances where signatories violated the principles of earlier peace agreements, thereby undermining both their commitment to peace and the accord as a whole.

It is shown that the NPA and surrounding discussions proved vital for a reason other than bringing a decisive end to the political violence; it was the prelude to the Convention for a Democratic South Africa (CODESA) negotiations that painted the blueprint for what the post-Apartheid South Africa would look like. For many in attendance, the peace accord talks presented chances to vent frustrations as well a platform for political maneuvering- in both of these cases, the underlying logic was that it was becoming increasingly clear that political and economic power was rapidly restructuring and that involved parties needed to actively mark their places to avoid being left out. 

Critically, the book clarifies how churches and businesses (capital) became pillars not only of the accords themselves but also of sustaining the negotiation process as early as 1990. These two groups, either independently or jointly, were pivotal in breaking down negotiation or communication deadlocks. They served as points of contact in violence-prone areas where neutrality was essential for quelling conflicts, highlighting the significance of churches, religious organizations, and collective businesses in facilitating the entire NPA process. The book provides insight into how large business groups shouldered much of the administrative burden behind the negotiations, offering resources such as boardrooms, cars, office buildings, and private jets. Regarding religious leaders, it reveals their shrewdness and acute understanding of the relative goodwill and reduced hostility afforded to them by their positions. They leveraged this to counsel political leaders, cool heated tensions, and, in some cases, bring political leaders of different denominations together through interfaith initiatives, thus bypassing the political divisions that would typically hinder such interactions.

While South Africa’s foreign policy and international presence have become characterized by principles of peace, universal human rights, and the need for dialogue, the book provides a background on the young democracy’s history of negotiation, highlighting its role in quelling international conflicts and paving the way for sustained peace and collective development. Dr. Carmichael contributes to crafting a holistic account of earlier populist movements by examining South Africa’s Manichean divides and ethnic-turned-political societal cleavages. Through reflective and detailed accounts of the events leading up to the peace talks, the relationships between key figures, and the short timeline between events, Carmichael illustrates that the period from 1990 to 1994 can be considered the most politically intense in the country’s recent history.


 

Liz Carmichael. (2023). Peacemaking and Peacebuilding in South Africa: The National Peace Accord, 1991-1994. Boydell and Brewer. 518 pp. $36.95, ISBN: 9781847013682

Hagia Sophia was converted into a mosque by the Erdogan regime in Turkey on July 10, 2020. Following the decision, several groups gathered in front of Hagia Sophia to celebrate. Photo: Ugur Ferhat Baloglu.

Claiming the People’s Past: Populist Politics of History in the Twenty-First Century

Kenes, Bulent. (2024). “Claiming the People’s Past: Populist Politics of History in the Twenty-First Century.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. August 21, 2024. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0015

 

The book examines the populist use of history through a blend of case studies and thematic analyses spanning various geographical and socio-cultural contexts. It highlights how populist politics often adopt an anti-elitist stance, particularly against academic historians. Populists tend to favor simplified, decontextualized, or ambiguous historical narratives infused with strong emotional appeals—such as pride, anger, fear, or nostalgia—over the rigorous, evidence-based approach of professional historiography. Despite populism’s strong orientation toward the past, the academic exploration of its relationship with history has been relatively sparse so far. This book makes a notable contribution to addressing and bridging that gap.

Reviewed by Bulent Kenes

How do populists relate to history and address the past? How do they represent history and frame particular historical events, periods, or the dimensions of the past, present, and future? Why is the politics of history an important aspect of populism? What drives populists to engage in the politics of history, and what exactly is the appeal of history for populist politics? How do practices of ‘past presencing’ facilitate a populist political logic? What political and emotional mechanisms facilitate the mobilization of historical knowledge in populism? How do emotions like patriotism, fear, guilt, comfort, and indifference contribute to this mobilization, and what role do they play in populist narratives? Conversely, what emotions are avoided, and why? These are the questions that the editors and authors of the comprehensive volume “Claiming the People’s Past: Populist Politics of History in the Twenty-First Century” seek to answer.

The book edited by Berber Bevernage, Eline Mestdagh, Walderez Ramalho and Marie-Gabrielle Verbergt offers a rich array of concepts related to its central themes, including ‘fake history,’ ‘fictionalization of politics,’ ‘historiographic emotivism,’ ‘emotive historiography,’ ‘collective emotions,’ ‘collective narcissism,’ ‘past presencing,’ ‘presentism,’ ‘teleological presentism,’ ‘emotivism,’ ‘emotional truth,’ ‘memorial populism,’ ‘Manichean nostalgia,’ ‘progressive nostalgia,’ ‘nostalgia for the future,’ ‘reactionary nostalgia,’ ‘moral remembrance,’ ‘chronosophies,’ ‘updatism,’ ‘historical Russia,’ ‘deep people,’ ‘mutual deception,’ and ‘identity fusion,’ among many others.

The book explores the populist politics of history through a combination of case studies and thematic analyses across diverse geographical and socio-cultural contexts. Divided into two parts, the first part presents case studies that examine how specific populist parties, movements, or leaders engage with history. These cases cover a range of populisms globally, including the AfD in Germany, Islamic populism in East Africa, Vox and Podemos in Spain, and populists in power such as the Kirchners in Argentina, the Awami League in Bangladesh, Erdogan in Turkey, Trump in the US, Bolsonaro in Brazil, and Putin in Russia.

The second part focuses on thematic reflections that highlight key aspects of populist historical politics. These include the emotional and affective dimensions of populism’s approach to history, the use of ‘affective repertoires’ to promote specific historical narratives, and the role of emotions like nostalgia in right-wing mobilization. The book also examines the concept of ‘historiographic emotivism’ and the intertwined relationship between ethnic nationalism and populism. Additionally, it discusses how populists claim or reject epistemic authority, often showing a disregard for academic historiography. 

Ensuring consistency in an edited volume is challenging, as it can be difficult to review such collections from a unified perspective. However, the editors of this book have successfully met that challenge, distilling the essence of 16 articles that combine case studies with thematic and theoretical discussions. The editors also successfully overcome the ‘Atlantic bias’ in populism studies by offering a global perspective with case studies from the Americas, Africa, Asia, and Europe. The book also effectively represents both right- and left-wing populisms, as well as those in opposition and in power. From the case studies and conceptual analyses, the editors identify five recurring features of how populists engage with history: (a) vagueness and decontextualization, (b) a logic of equivalence, (c) antagonism, (d) moral and emotional appeals, and (e) rejection of representational pluralism.

As Jan-Werner Müller noted in the book’s foreword, populists often invoke specific historical events or figures to represent their vision of ‘the people’ while also signaling exclusions. They rewrite history textbooks, invest in monuments, and reshape the built environment to evoke past glories and reinforce symbolic exclusions—such as Erdogan’s transformation of Turkish urban landscapes in the Seljuk-Ottoman style. The book provides numerous examples of this glorification of the past, including populist reinterpretations by Narendra Modi, the AfD, PiS, and Donald Trump. Many right-wing populists promise a “rebirth” through these historical re-imaginings.

The book notes that it is common for politicians to engage with history to support their policies, and this is true for both right-wing populists like Narendra Modi and left-wing populists like Evo Morales. Despite their differing agendas, they share a similar approach: using history in the name of the people, against the elite, to divide society into opposing camps. From Holocaust revisionism in Germany to anti-communism in Viktor Orban’s Hungary and PiS’s Poland, far-right populists frequently push controversial historical interpretations. In the US and Brazil, Trump and Bolsonaro’s populist uses of the past have drawn criticism from historians. Similarly, left-wing populist leaders in Argentina, Venezuela, Ecuador, and Bolivia have used history to focus on the legacies of colonialism and military dictatorships.

According to the editors, populists present the past in a decontextualized and vague manner, drawing equivalences between otherwise unrelated historical events while antagonistically representing history and historians. Their relationship to the past is driven by emotion, and they reject pluralism in historical representation. Populist references to history are often anachronistic, too. Additionally, the book argues that populists do not present history chronologically. Instead, they organize a heterogeneous mix of events, periods, and figures around empty signifiers like ‘heroism,’ ‘resistance,’ ‘foreignness,’ and ‘threat,’ weaving them into a narrative of equivalence. Unlike ideologies such as nationalism or socialism, which invest heavily in creating their own historiographies, populists generally show little interest in developing distinct historical narratives. Notable exceptions include Hindutva in India and PiS’s authoritarian conservative populism in Poland, where there is significant investment in historiographical production. However, even in these cases, the book finds that populist historical revisionism relies more on judicial or physical repression of dissent than on scholarly debate. 

The book underscores that most populist depictions of history revolve around morally charged binaries of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ Populists often claim to protect history from being stolen, corrupted, or erased, or they present themselves as restoring a glorious past. For instance, the book cites a comic published by Austria’s FPÖ that depicts Heinz-Christian Strache alongside 17th-century Prinz Eugen defending Vienna from the Turks in 1683, echoing similar rhetoric seen in the Brexit campaign, which invoked Britain’s resistance to ancient Roman invasion. Donald Trump accused those advocating of the removal of Confederate statues of erasing history, positioning himself and his supporters as defenders of American heritage. Similarly, Erdogan regime claims to ‘give back’ history to the people, suggesting it was stolen by the West and previous governments. The book highlights how both left- and right-wing populists engage in this narrative hijacking, often targeting ‘the elite’ as the culprits behind the neglect or corruption of historical consciousness.

Populist politics of history frequently involve an anti-elitist stance against academic historians. According to the book, populists prefer unambiguous, decontextualized, or vague histories filled with strong emotional overtones such as pride, anger, fear, or nostalgia, rather than engaging with the fact-finding mission of professional historiography. For example, Pawel Machcewicz’s chapter discusses how Poland’s PiS promotes narratives of Polish heroism in helping Jews during World War II to counteract the negative affects of critical historiography. Populists often frame themselves as liberators, returning a glorious past to the people, making pride and nostalgia key elements in their historical narratives.

The book highlights how populist people, leaders and parties, such as Rodrigo Duterte, Lega Nord, Vox, and the Kirchnerists, often reject pluralism in historical representation. The book reminds readers that populists tend to mythologize history, rejecting alternative narratives not because they are factually incorrect, but because they conflict with the moral and emotional narratives they promote. Beyond tales of heroism, stories of victimhood and suffering are also effective tools for populists to moralize politics. Decontextualized narratives of historical victimhood can emphasize the innocence of ‘the people’ and highlight the evilness of the enemy, helping populist leaders maintain an underdog status even while in power. For example, the book discusses the reconversion of Hagia Sophia into a mosque, showing how Erdogan and his regime use decontextualized narratives of historical victimhood to legitimize their rule and distract from present-day human rights abuses.

The empirical chapters of the book offer numerous examples of how right-wing populists selectively and effectively use the past. For instance, Klaus Neumann’s chapter on the AfD shows that their approach to history is driven by two aims: to create a genealogy for themselves and to contrast the problematic present with an idealized past that promises a better future. To achieve this, the AfD downplays the Nazi past, instead aligning themselves with the Conservative Revolution and claiming the legacy of Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg, who attempted to assassinate Hitler in 1944. Despite this, they still attack Germany’s Holocaust memorial culture.

Chintia Bale and Gustavo Guille emphasize in their chapter on Argentina that memory plays a crucial role in power struggles, defining who belongs on each side of the political divide. They describe “memorial populism” as a subtype where the memory of a specific event is emptied of its original meaning, and a past charismatic leader is resurrected as the “eternal sovereign,” akin to the sovereignty of God in theocratic populism. 

Julian Kuttig and Bert Suykens, in their chapter on Sheikh Mujibur Rahman of Bangladesh, highlight how the manipulation of history and memory is central to Bangladeshi politics. According to the chapter, Mujib’s personal legacy (body personal) has been downplayed, allowing a populist memory of his political legacy (body politics) to dominate.

Pawel Machcewicz’s chapter on Poland illustrates how PiS has used history as a key tool to shape political and emotional narratives, defining enemies and rallying grassroots support. Central to PiS’s cultural agenda is the portrayal of Poland’s glorious past as under constant threat from corrupt elites and external foes who undermine Polish martyrdom and heroism. PiS’s “politics of history” involves accusing liberal elites and professional historians of promoting a “pedagogy of shame,” which critically examines darker episodes of Polish history, particularly Polish wrongdoings against other nationalities like Jews, Germans, and Ukrainians.

Neeladri Bhattacharya, in his chapter on the Hindu right, argues that populist regimes worldwide seek to reshape what is considered history. He describes how, under nationalist pressure, authors and publishers have faced attacks leading to apologies, book destructions, and increasing hostility since Modi and the Hindu right came to power in 2014. The assault extends beyond professional history writing to all academic institutions. Violence, including book burnings, online abuse, physical attacks, and even killings of thinkers and journalists, has become commonplace. According to the chapter, while secular nationalism in India aimed to create a multicultural memory, the Hindu right builds its nationalism on memories of religious antagonism. Professional historians are seen as obstacles to the Hindutva agenda, raising inconvenient questions and offering counter-narratives. As a result, they face sustained attacks, stigmatization, and accusations of being anti-national. This new regime of “historical truth” silences intellectual inquiry, normalizes censorship, and forges a connection between the populist ‘savior’ and the people.

Yagmur Karakaya, in her chapter on Erdogan’s neo-Ottoman nostalgia, argues that nostalgic populism is a common feature of populist historicities. Focusing on Erdogan’s speech during the reopening of Hagia Sophia as a mosque, Karakaya identifies three key discursive elements of nostalgic populism in Turkey: the legalization of history, the monopolization of history, and the revival of a “stolen” past. This analysis provides insight into the deeply rooted and comprehensive authoritarian Islamist populism of Erdogan.

In her chapter, Felicitas Becker notes that in East Africa, particularly in Tanzania and Kenya, most populist Islamist spokespeople are outsiders to the political establishment. 

In Oz Frankel’s chapter on the Trump era, right-wing populists accuse elites of betraying the American people and erasing the nation’s glorious past, fostering shame and guilt among the young, particularly white Americans. The chapter explores Trump’s populist portrayal, linking him to biblical figures, prophecies, and conspiracy theories. Frankel also examines key works of racist, far-right, and alt-right literature.

In their chapter, Mateus Henrique de Faria Pereira and Valdei Lope de Araujo explore the “updatist” use of history, a key element of Bolsonarist populism that underpins its historical denialism and spread of fake news. According to the authors, Bolsonaro’s far-right authoritarian populism in Brazil relies on denying and falsifying history, labeling all political opponents as ‘leftists’ or communists. This approach revives Cold War-era rhetoric, allowing Bolsonaro’s supporters to falsely depict Nazism as a left-wing movement and portray any opposition as communist.

Andrey Oleynikov’s chapter on Vladimir Putin’s Russia highlights the conservative and presentist use of history, centered on the concept of “historical Russia.” Oleynikov argues that Putin legitimizes his rule by claiming a mandate from a supposed “thousand-year-old historical state,” positioning contemporary Russia as the successor to both pre-revolutionary and Soviet Russias. This construction of “historical Russia” also serves foreign policy interests, justifying actions like the annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Additionally, Putin’s regime has crafted the notion of a “deep people” to reinforce the belief that the nation is on the right path under his leadership.

In his chapter on Spain, Pablo Sanchez Leon examines the relationship of left-wing populist Podemos and right-wing populist Vox, which has voiced fears of an Islamic reinvasion of Andalusia, a region with a significant North African Muslim immigrant population, with the past and history. Leon argues that Vox’s historical narratives shed light on the overlap between nationalism and populism, two distinct yet often intertwined ideologies. Vox actively promotes counter-narratives against the so-called Black Legend, which highlights Spain’s cruelties in America. Leon also emphasizes that understanding populism requires attention to its use of historical narratives.

Laurajane Smith, in the first chapter of the thematic section, highlights nostalgia as a central emotion in the mobilization of revisionist history. She argues that nostalgia is key to the appeal and expression of various forms of populism, particularly right-wing populism. By invoking revisionist, mythologized, or selective histories that emphasize heroism and national pride while avoiding ambiguity, these narratives manage present-day emotions. Heritage, too, plays a similar role by historicizing emotions to legitimize contemporary ideologies. Alongside nostalgia, fear is also crucial for right-wing populism, which often rejects nuance to avoid feelings of shame and guilt.

Aviezer Tucker, in his chapter titled “Historiographic Populist Emotivism,” argues that populists view historiography as a narrative driven by passions rather than facts. For populists, the more emotionally charged a historical narrative, the more “authentic” it is. Tucker contends that populists lack the will to control their passions, leading to self-destructive policies. This is evident in the rise of “post-truth” (old “wishful thinking”) where beliefs are shaped by strong emotions rather than evidence. As a result, populist historiography cannot be evaluated through traditional historiographic methods. Populists may exert power by dismissing professional historians, as seen in Hungary, or by inciting social media “lynch mobs.” According to Tucker, to advance their agendas, populist leaders encourage historical amnesia, erasing inconvenient truths. In her chapter, Lea David echoes this sentiment, noting that official memory requires both the art of forgetting and remembering to be effective.

Allan Megill notes in his chapter that academic historians rarely attract the attention of populists, who typically use “the past” to evoke emotions that unite “the people” and motivate them toward action. Another chapter’s author, Chris Lorenz, adds that populist leaders, consistently framing the present as a time of crisis, aim to restore their people’s supposed past greatness. Leaders like Trump, Putin, Orban, and Erdogan frequently invoke a narrative of past glory, recent decline, and future resurrection, shaping a populist timeline of rise, fall, and redemption.

As we look at the other (namely critical) side of the coin, the editors of the book adopt Ernesto Laclau’s formal definition of populism as a ‘political logic’ and allowed the chapter authors to choose the approach that best suited their case studies. As a result, many chapters are preoccupied with lengthy and repetitive discussions on the definition of populism, alongside deep philosophical deliberations that can feel excessive. Additionally, since some chapters were written in 2020 and 2021, the book does not address the most recent political developments in countries like Brazil, US and Argentina, where the situation has changed dramatically. Furthermore, as Megill points out in his chapter, some of the empirical studies in the book focus more on nationalist ‘historicity’ than on populist narratives. 

As one of the chapter authors notes, although populism is ‘essentially past-directed,’ the academic literature on its relationship with history has remained limited so far. From an overall perspective, this book represents a significant attempt to address and fill that gap.

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Berber Bevernage, Eline Mestdagh, Walderez Ramalho and Marie-Gabrielle Verbergt. (2024). Claiming the People’s Past: Populist Politics of History in the Twenty-First Century. (Cambridge University Press). 343 pp. $110, ISBN: 978-1-009-45363-9

Photo: Dmitry Demidovich.

The Wrecking of the Liberal World Order 

Guidotti, Andrea. (2024). “The Wrecking of the Liberal World Order.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. January 17, 2024. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0013

 

In his book, “The Wrecking of the Liberal World Order,” Vittorio Emanuele Parsi argues that the neoliberal distortion of democracy has led to its erosion, giving rise to populism. This phenomenon has permeated both public discourse and the political culture of mainstream parties. Faced with this challenge, these parties find themselves at a crossroads, having to decide between a defensive response to the surge of populist movements or adapting and converging with their political platforms to prevent substantial losses in electoral support.

Reviewed by Andrea Guidotti

Some major shifts are shaping international politics in recent decades. Firstly, there is a noticeable decline in American leadership as the primary global force, accompanied by the simultaneous ascent of authoritarian powers such as China and Russia, altering the power dynamics among major nations. Secondly, terrorism, particularly its religiously charged variants, has gained increasing relevance and urgency, raising concerns in some regions, with the Mediterranean standing out prominently. Thirdly, during Donald Trump’s presidency, the United States veered away from the multilateral system, exhibiting unprecedented revisionist stances. Lastly, the ascent of nationalist and, more significantly, populist movements has tainted political discourse, disengaging citizens from liberal and, particularly, democratic principles in distinct yet interconnected ways.

In his book “The Wrecking of the Liberal World Order” Vittorio Emanuele Parsi, Professor of International Relations at the Catholic University of Milan, Italy, delves into the current state of the international political and liberal system. With a keen focus on the ongoing changes within the system, potentially jeopardizing its stability, Parsi’s central argument posits that since the 1980s, the Liberal World Order has gradually given way to the Neoliberal World Order, fundamentally altering its intrinsic nature.

The book contends that the foundational pillars of the system face challenges from various political and ideological movements: (i) Neoliberalism, which highlights the shortcomings of ‘big governments’ in terms of resource mismanagement and hindrance to the efficiency of market mechanisms; (ii) Neoconservatism, countering the ‘progressive’ agenda by emphasizing traditional values and principles of law and order; and (iii) Ordo-liberalism, utilized to justify state policies favoring capital at the detriment of labor.

The Liberal World Order is grounded in two fundamental objectives: firstly, the establishment of a system that is both open and institutionalized, ensuring the potential for democracies to flourish and prosper; and secondly, the reinforcement of the domestic political and socioeconomic systems upon which the overarching system is constructed. These goals were envisioned to materialize through the establishment of the United Nations, a universal and comprehensive institution replacing the ineffective League of Nations. It acknowledged the privileged status of the great powers that emerged victorious in World War II – the United States, the Soviet Union, China, the United Kingdom, and France.

The fundamental distinction between Liberalism and Neoliberalism lies in the nuanced relationship they establish between democracy and the market economy. Democracy, built on the premise of equality despite inherent individual differences, contrasts with the free market economy’s tendency to thrive on inequality, rewarding the most efficient entities and individuals based on their abilities/capabilities, productivity, and merits. The Neoliberal project, therefore, deviated by downplaying concerns related to inequality and fostering a system where increased productivity, driven by technological advancements, exclusively rewarded capital investments. This shift was not isolated; it emerged as a response to the widespread perception among politicians of stagnant wages and growing job insecurities.

The underlying logic was as follows: ‘income does not matter; consumption does.’ In simpler terms, as long as the middle class could maintain its consumption levels due to the newly implemented policies, it might not be overly concerned about the growing levels of inequality. What tends to be overlooked in these arguments is the reality that, even if there is no deliberate attempt to eliminate economic inequality with the aim of preventing political inequality, people do not need convincing that their unequal economic power translates into political disparities. Consequently, public policies geared towards creating more favorable conditions to attract international capital began to progressively fuel unemployment among the middle class, heighten job insecurities, erode the Welfare State, and bring an end to redistributive policies. In essence, an ideological clash between economic freedom and political sovereignty (the efficacy of democracy) emerged within and from the framework of the Liberal World Order.

According to Parsi’s book, the first problematic dimension of the current Liberal World Order is its altered distribution of power, coinciding with the transition from a unipolar to a multipolar system, where the US no longer stands as the sole global great power. On one hand, China is growing more assertive in the Pacific and Indian Ocean, implementing a ‘String of Pearls Strategy’ that involves cultivating privileged diplomatic, commercial, and military relations with certain countries, aiming to control vital sea lines of communication and strategic logistical supplies. Specifically, China seeks to assure its neighbors that it is a reliable actor, refraining from unnecessary threats as long as its perceived interests remain intact. On the other hand, Russia, exemplified by the annexation of Crimea and the invasion of Ukraine, is endeavoring to expand its sphere of influence, willing to employ military means if deemed necessary. Additionally, both China and Russia are strategically involved in the Middle East, where the American presence has become increasingly problematic. While not explicitly sharing a strategy against the US, it is evident that Russia and China have been striving to establish a common platform against American hegemony.

The second problematic dimension involves the ‘molecularization and privatization of the threat,’ a consequence of the proliferation of terrorist groups that particularly destabilizes Western public opinions and political elites. In particular, Islamist terrorism has demonstrated a significant capacity for deconstruction within the Liberal World Order. Two noteworthy aspects emerge here. Firstly, the Mediterranean region has regained significant importance, serving as a focal point for indirect strategic actions against European countries to undermine their political stability. Secondly, Russia has reopened the front of contention in the Baltic Sea with respect to NATO.

The third problematic dimension is the American shift concerning the system during Trump’s presidency. Trump built his political credibility by addressing concerns about the emergence of ‘jobless growth,’ where economic expansion fails to translate into an expansion of job opportunities. In another light, argues Parsi, there’s the phenomenon of the ‘rentierization of the capitalistic system,’ which significantly favors financial investments over productive ones. Moreover, Trump pledged to deconstruct the Liberal World Order from within to rectify these distortions. Within Trump’s framework, the US revealed itself as a revisionist power within the system. By rejecting multilateral practices as a means to express its vision of a ‘constraint-free’ America, the US administration undermined the foundations of its own credibility in the eyes of both partners and allies, as well as adversaries.

The fourth problematic dimension revolves around democratic contamination caused by sovereigntist populism and technocratic oligarchies. The emergence of populist movements has led to a democratic deformation wherein opinions are simplistically and systematically transformed into decisions. The neoliberal distortion of democracy and its erosion have fostered populism, intoxicating both public discourse and the political culture of mainstream parties. These parties are then confronted with the choice of either defensively responding to the rise of these populist movements or adapting and converging with their political platforms to avoid significant loss in electoral support. According to the book, two strands of populism are crucial to this analysis: one targeting economic and financial elites, advocating for policies perceived as betraying the interests of American workers, and the other embodied in Trump’s politics, characterized by racial and ethnic-based nationalism and the notion of a ‘true America’ with distinct political inclinations. In a broader sense, populism can be viewed as a signal of discontent but also as a call to restore the balance between elites and the common people. Crucially, even when acknowledging that economic and social inequality naturally arises from individual differences in abilities and resources, this acceptance should not be used as a justification for the perpetuation of existing political inequality.

Professor Parsi concludes the book with a chapter on the pandemic and its relationship with the current (Neo)Liberal World Order, exploring potential solutions to the issues discussed throughout the book. Covid-19 showed that we were not all equally vulnerable to the virus, as its impact is asymmetric both for natural and especially economic reasons. This asymmetry mirrors the asymmetries, imbalances and inequalities inherent in the (Neo)Liberal World Order, where a few dictate its political and economic structure, disregarding the interests of the many and violating the foundational principles established post-WWII. Consequently, three key takeaways are proposed as potential remedies or paths worth pursuing: (i) rebuilding an up-to-date Liberal World Order by way of revitalizing democratic regimes in such a way that they can gain back control of market dynamics; (ii) the premise of the project should be a privileged relationship between the two sides of the Atlantic, i.e. democratic powers; (iii) We must not forsake values in favor of interests only, ensuring that those with underrepresented political strength are not overlooked or allowed those to wield power solely based on their economic and status position, influencing and shaping the rules of the game regarding the functioning of the system.


The Wrecking of the Liberal World Order by Vittorio Emanuele Parsi (Palgrave Macmillan, 2021). 325 pp. €139,09 (Hardback), ISBN: 3030720454, 9783030720452

Former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte holds a Galil sniper rifle with outgoing Philippine National Police (PNP) chief Ronald dela Rosa (L) at Camp Crame in Manila on April 19, 2018. Photo: Salma Bashir Motiwala.

The Philippines: From ‘People Power’ to Democratic Backsliding

Kenes, Bulent. (2023). “The Philippines: From ‘People Power’ to Democratic Backsliding.” ECPS Book Reviews. European Center for Populism Studies. June 14, 2023. https://doi.org/10.55271/br0014

 

In his recently released book, scholar Mark R. Thompson underscores how the “people power” narrative gradually lost credibility in the Philippines, as evidenced by the opposition’s resounding defeat in the 2022 elections. This outcome demonstrated the diminishing appeal of this discourse among the majority of Filipinos. Given Thompson’s assessment of Duterte’s election and his populist legacy as the latest iteration of a cyclical pattern in Philippine politics, his book represents a valuable contribution to the literature on populism.

Reviewed by Bulent Kenes

On May 9, 2016, Rodrigo Roa Duterte was elected as the 16th President of the Philippines by the Filipino people. Despite his controversial reputation, which he had acquired during his long political career as the mayor of Davao City, Duterte emerged victorious. He pledged to establish a regime similar to the one he had implemented in Davao City, with the goal of restoring “law and order” throughout the entire country. Following his inauguration, public trust in him soared to an astonishing 91 percent. What factors contributed to Duterte’s remarkable success as an illiberal and penal populist leader? How did the socio-economic environment and troubled political history of the Philippines play a role in the frequent rise of populist strongmen like Duterte? In his recently published book, “The Philippines: From ‘People Power’ to Democratic Backsliding,” Mark R. Thompson explores the socio-political, economic, and structural factors behind the convergence of democratic backsliding and the rise of strongman leaders within the Filipino context.

Thompson’s book utilizes a structuration approach to analyze the country’s recent shift towards strongman rule within the historical backdrop of nearly a century of Philippine presidential politics. The Philippines stands as one of the few global cases of “hyper-presidentialism.” The book highlights the fact that Philippine presidents possess significantly more formal power than their counterparts in the United States, particularly when it comes to their wide discretion over budgetary matters, which is essential in a patronage-driven democracy, making them the “patrons-in-chief.” They can subordinate the legislature, the courts, and independent bodies, despite theoretically being coequal branches of government or constitutionally mandated agencies, thus establishing the President’s authority as nearly omnipresent throughout the state apparatus.

Thompson’s book traces this “tyrannical potential” of Philippine presidents back to the American colonial era. One section of the book explores how a patronage-driven democracy facilitated executive aggrandizement by three transgressive presidents – Quezon, Marcos, and Duterte – who employed strongman messaging as they disregarded weak formal democratic checks. It also examines the stronger but uncertain informal constraints imposed on presidential power by elite strategic groups that employed a liberal reformist discourse. This dynamic first emerged after the manipulated 1949 presidential elections and resulted in Magsaysay’s victory four years later. However, a similar effort two decades later failed to prevent Ferdinand E. Marcos from imposing martial law. Yet, Marcos was later ousted by a people powermovement with a similar elite “hegemonic bloc” at the forefront. Following Marcos’ downfall, corruption scandals, which seemed inevitable in a patronage-dominated system, undermined the promise to restore “good governance” and also discredited the elite strategic groups promoting it. With the weakening of reformism and elite guardianship, a political opportunity arose for Duterte’s highly illiberal messaging. Duterte swiftly regressed Philippine democracy after winning the presidency in 2016. As a pioneer in political violence, Duterte fundamentally transformed Philippine politics by making violent populism appealing to the majority of Filipinos.

The first authoritarian leader in the Philippines was Commonwealth President Quezon, and three decades later, Marcos followed in Quezon’s footsteps. Even before declaring martial law in 1972, Marcos had already become the most powerful president since the country gained independence in 1946. He crafted an elaborate justification for martial law, citing not only threats from the far-left (communists) and far-right (oligarchs), but also utilizing strongman messaging that promised to address poverty, injustice, and bring about political change. Marcos argued that authoritarian rule was necessary to restore order and accelerate development. He imposed strict restrictions on the previously free press, which was factionalized and oligarchical, suppressing opposition criticism of nepotism and favoritism. The Marcos regime quickly transformed into a highly “sultanistic” system, blurring the boundaries between the public treasury and the private wealth of the ruler. Marcos and his wife Imelda became the wealthiest couple in the Philippines and among the richest in the world.

Meanwhile, Thompson emphasizes the presence of four influential non-governmental strategic groups (the Catholic Church hierarchy, big business leaders, civil society activists, and top military brass) that have played pivotal roles in constraining presidential power since independence in 1946, particularly during the later stages of the Marcos dictatorship and in the post-people power era. While not directly part of the government, these groups maintain close ties to the state, with representatives from big business and civil society often holding high-ranking positions in presidential cabinets. They possess extensive organizations that enable them to mobilize supporters in favor of or against a president, either through nonviolent means such as demonstrations or, in the case of the military, through a show of force via military intervention.

The book also integrates three key themes from existing literature – patronage democracy, political violence, and widespread impoverishment – to provide a comprehensive understanding of the Philippines’ recurring democratic crises. From a structuralist perspective, according to Thompson, the democratic transition that commenced after Marcos’ downfall in 1986 was only temporary. The “people power” uprising in Metro Manila in February 1986 captured global media attention and received praise from world leaders. This peaceful overthrow of an authoritarian ruler by civilian protesters demanding democratic restoration demonstrated the potential for change. However, Thompson argues that the perception of people power has undergone a remarkable metamorphosis in the Philippines, particularly since the time of Corazon C. Aquino, the widow of the assassinated opposition politician Benigno “Ninoy” S. Aquino, Jr., who assumed the presidency after the heavily manipulated snap presidential elections in early February 1986 that triggered the uprising. 

Author recalls that two additional crises unfolded in the subsequent three decades. Another “people power” style uprising took place, but this time it was directed against the freely and fairly elected President Joseph E. Estrada in 2001. His successor, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, faced immediate and long-term legitimacy issues throughout her scandal-ridden tenure. In 2016, Duterte was elected, pledging a brutal “war on drugs.” Duterte’s popularity during his term created a strong political demand for a presidential candidate with a similar strongman image. Surveys indicated that 85 percent of Filipinos preferred “partial” or “full continuity” of his rule. Ferdinand Romualdez Marcos, Jr., the son of the Marcos dictatorship’s ruling couple, positioned himself as the rightful heir to Duterte’s legacy and won the May 2022 presidential elections with ease. Running alongside Duterte’s daughter as his vice-presidential candidate, the Marcos-Duterte tandem successfully positioned themselves as the successors to Duterte. Despite hopes from opponents that “Dutertismo” would fade away in 2022, there is little indication that Marcos intends to deviate from Duterte’s illiberal path. 

According to Thompson, this democratic backsliding occurred against the backdrop of historically rooted structural conditions in which neoliberal economic strategies revived economic growth but failed to significantly alleviate poverty, thereby enabling Duterte to secure power. The author highlights the fact that while post-dictatorship presidents in the Philippines restored financial stability and stimulated economic growth, they were unsuccessful in eradicating mass poverty. “Proletarian populists” who promised to help the majority of Filipinos who identified themselves as poor were either overthrown or subject to electoral fraud. This created an opportunity, according to Thompson, for Duterte to present himself as the last hope for Filipinos. By convincing many that they had been betrayed by the “irresponsible ‘yellow’ elites,” Duterte, as president, initiated a “war on drugs” that resulted in thousands of extrajudicial killings by the police and vigilantes linked to law enforcement. He justified these murders by dismissing liberalism and human rights as “Western” concepts. By late 2018, the Chair of the Philippine Commission on Human Rights estimated that up to 27,000 suspected drug users and dealers had been killed in the drug war. Duterte even targeted mayors and local officials accused of having drug links – by June 2021 more than half of the forty-four mayors, vice mayors, and other local officials identified by the Philippine president as being “narco politicians” had been killed.

Despite his obvious illiberalism, Duterte claimed democratic legitimacy, aligning with larger global trends. Unlike Trump and right-wing populists in developed countries who targeted immigrants, Duterte identified drug users and dealers as “enemies of the people.” His violent populism went beyond the typical “penal populism” seen in the West, representing an extreme form of illiberal rule that embraced an aggressive “us versus them” mentality. Thompson reminds that through his “war on drugs,” Duterte garnered massive popular support, surpassing the levels achieved by other illiberal populists globally. However, according to him, Duterte was not the first Philippine president to extensively employ political violence to consolidate power. Quirino relied on local warlords to intimidate the opposition during his presidential election campaign in 1949. As a young man Marcos, Sr., was convicted of killing his father’s chief political rival. In his controversial reelection campaign in 1969, Marcos employed not just local paramilitaries but also national military force, which he had increasingly brought under his personal control in the run-up to declaring martial law in 1972.

Thompson highlights that while many contemporary illiberal populist leaders have marginalized, imprisoned, or even assassinated those targeted and othered by their rhetoric, Duterte stands out for instigating state-led mass murder against his own country’s civilian population through his war on drugs. While Recep Tayyip Erdogan in Turkey intensified attacks against Kurdish rebels and Vladimir Putin in Russia waged the brutal Second Chechen War and later invaded Ukraine, these are military campaigns rather than “peacetime” massacres, as clarified by Thompson, although Erdogan’s campaigns against Kurds have also involved attacks during peacetime. These strongman presidents effectively crafted messaging to justify their concentration of power, often resorting to political violence and exploiting persistent poverty as a pretext for their power grabs. As poverty rates and unemployment remained high during the post-Marcos era, the liberal reformist discourse appeared uncaring and morally self-righteous.

Furthermore, Duterte eroded democracy through less violent means as well, eroding judicial independence, marginalizing independent institutions, and bullying local leaders, according to the book. His patronage politics undermined institution-building. The country’s bureaucracy has a history tainted by political interference and corrupt practices, with widespread perception of corruption in the courts. Duterte capitalized on a “legally cynical public” that lacked trust in a flawed judicial system, where drug offenders often had their cases dismissed on technicalities and bribery and manipulation were common accusations. Duterte, a former prosecutor, presented his drug crackdown as a silver bullet, appealing to the belief that the corrupt legal system needed cleansing before meaningful reforms could be introduced.

The rise of Duterte’s violent populism was also facilitated by the weakening of key elite strategic groups mentioned earlier in the book. For example, Duterte effectively outmaneuvered the church by threatening to expose its sex scandals, claiming personal childhood abuse by a priest. Institutional barriers were swiftly sidelined, resulting in the emergence of an illiberal democracy. As a political innovator, Duterte drew from and transformed traditions of local political violence in the Philippines, which he continued during his presidency. He also employed the strategy of securitizing problems and scapegoating the urban poor in other policy areas, notably in his highly militarized but ineffective response to the pandemic.

The book argues that the Philippines’ recent democratic backsliding is a result of Duterte’s violation of democratic norms in a patronage-driven democracy with weak institutionalization, following the patterns of Quezon and Marcos before him. The book also closely examines pseudo-reform programs used to divert attention from the persistence of mass poverty. Recently, Duterte’s drug war has primarily targeted the poor, with urban residents who are petty drug users and dealers becoming the focus, while mass poverty continues to endure. However, this approach proved effective in legitimizing his highly illiberal rule.

Like previous presidents, according to the author, Duterte did not harbor a general hostility towards the oligarchy; rather, he used such rhetoric as a means to attack his political enemies and favor his own allies. However, the broken promises of his predecessors to combat corruption and alleviate poverty had paved the way for simplistic solutions to the country’s complex social problems, exemplified by Duterte’s “dystopian narrative” of the drug war. The drug war’s popularity across class lines indicated that Duterte had successfully redirected the grievances of the poor away from the failures of social reform. In line with Marcos and Quezon before him, Duterte exploited the persistence of poverty to justify the erosion of democratic values. Employing pseudo-social reforms, Duterte portrayed his drug war as a panacea for the nation’s social issues, garnering support across different social strata, despite the fact that it harmed and disproportionately targeted the poor.

As a strategy of legitimation, Duterte relied on extravagant but largely hollow promises of implementing social reform, eradicating corruption, and eliminating illegal drugs, which proved remarkably effective as political tools. His “brute force governance,” characterized by personalized strongman rule, blame-shifting, and securitization, undermined the mechanisms of accountability. This enabled him to maintain public approval, despite the drug war’s failure to effectively address substance abuse and the ineffectiveness of widespread lockdowns in curbing the spread of the pandemic. Despite the highly illiberal nature of Duterte’s rule, he continued to claim democratic legitimacy based on competitive elections and high approval ratings, while adhering to constitutional norms. This undermined electoral opposition and weakened resistance from critical figures such as Catholic bishops, influential business groups, and civil society activists. According to Thompson, among the major strategic groups in the Philippines, only the military remained a significant check on Duterte’s power.

In conclusion, Thompson underscores how the “people power” narrative gradually lost credibility, as evidenced by the opposition’s resounding defeat in the 2022 elections, particularly with Marcos, Jr.’s victory. This outcome demonstrated the diminishing appeal of this discourse among the majority of Filipinos. The recent democratic backsliding in the Philippines serves as a cautionary tale about the failure of a liberal reformist project to improve the lives of ordinary people and fundamentally reshape the political system to reduce reliance on patronage, strengthen institutions, and mitigate political violence. Given Thompson’s assessment of Duterte’s election and his populist legacy as the latest iteration of a cyclical pattern in Philippine politics, this book represents a valuable contribution to the literature on populism.


 

Mark R. Thompson. The Philippines: From ‘People Power’ to Democratic Backsliding. As part of “Elements in Politics and Society in Southeast Asia.” (Cambridge University Press).  May 25, 2023. 86 pp. 21,24  ISBN: ‎ 1009398482. DOI: 10.1017/9781009398466  

People with masks of world leaders arrested, taking part in a demonstration march against climate change in Glasgow city centre during UN COP26 climate conference on November 6, 2021. Photo: Bruno Mameli.

Time for a change: Replacing the populist model with elite theory

By N. Scott Cole

“At last,” the editors of The Oxford Handbook of Populism declare, “everyone understands that populism matters. Recent political events have brought the word ‘populism’ to the center of discussions across the globe” (Kaltwasser et al., 2017, p. 1). A quick glance at scholarly and journalistic commentaries appears to justify this verdict.  In the United States, this concept is employed to understand Donald Trump’s rise to power and how he governed. Eric Oliver and Wendy Rahn (2016) state that, “Trump stands out in particular as the populist par excellence” (p. 189). Across the Atlantic, this term is also applied to comprehend the antics of former Prime Minister Boris Johnson (Duncan, 2021). The populist approach is even used to explain the Brexit vote (Bale, 2019). In Brazil, the racist, homophobic, and anti-democratic actions of President Jair Bolsonaro are also analyzed from this perspective (Rachman, 2020). As Yascha Mounk (2018) states, populists have “been gaining strength in every major democracy, from Athens to Ankara, from Sydney to Stockholm, and from Warsaw to Wellington.  Despite the obvious differences between the populists who are on the rise in all these countries, their commonalities go deep — and render each of them a danger to the political system in surprisingly similar ways” (p. 7).

While some embrace this term’s success, Oliver and Rahn (2016) admit that the populist concept has problems, especially its promiscuous tendency that allows it to be applied to politicians of the left, right, and center. “Given this diversity,” they ask, “does the concept of populism still have utility? A rich body of comparative research suggests that it does” (p. 190). When it comes to understanding recent political trends around the world, the present article disagrees. It aligns itself, instead, with William Brett’s (2013) comment that, “‘Populism’ is a classic example of a stretched concept, pulled out of shape by overuse and misuse” (p. 410). While some commentators are impressed by the “wave of policymakers, pundits, and scholars [who] are gripped by this [populist] phenomenon” (Kaltwasser et al., 2017, p. 1), this study views such enthusiasm with a dose of skepticism. It does not consider populism to be a perfect guide. This article argues that elite theory, while not infallible, is a more useful approach when it comes to understanding politics. 

Why is elite theory better than the populist model when it comes to analyzing politics? The elite approach has several advantages that elude the populist perspective. Specifically, it can precisely define its subject matter, clearly identify which actors need to be studied, and accurately explain their political behavior. The populist school fails on each of these dimensions. Also, the elite approach employs a variety of concepts that make it more theoretically rigorous than the alternative perspective.   

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Populism2

Populism (studies) does not exist, but it still matters

By Aurelien Mondon

Despite the provocative statement made in the title, the aim of this article is not to argue that populism (studies) does not exist or that it cannot be a useful concept, or that there may not be space for a lively field of populism studies to develop. Yet the argument developed here is that it is only possible if our understanding of populism serves a purpose such as helping us make better sense of the world around us. If, on the contrary, the term is used to obscure, deflect and divert attention away from processes of power formation and consolidation, then populism and populism studies do not exist: they are a simulacrum, a con. To explore these issues, I first (re)engage with the concept of ‘populist hype’ originally developed with Jason Glynos (2016) and apply it more precisely to academia. I then turn to one key contradiction in populism studies whereby definitional debates are both incredibly lively and yet often used to conceal power. In both sections, I explore the way in which populism has often been conflated with the far right, losing its explanatory power and legitimising such politics. Finally, I conclude with some reflections on the future of populism studies.

***

The title of this article is a reference to Pierre Bourdieu’s 1973 lecture ‘Public opinion does not exist’ as it seems particularly fitting here. As Bourdieu explained ‘in saying that public opinion does not exist, I mean it does not exist in the form which some people, whose existence depends on this illusion, would have us believe’ (Bourdieu, 1973). This, in a nutshell, is the argument I deploy in this article with regard to populism and populism studies. My aim is not to argue that populism does not exist or that it cannot be a useful concept, or that there may not be space for a lively field of populism studies to develop. Yet this is only possible if our understanding of populism serves a purpose such as helping us make better sense of the world around us. If, on the contrary, the term is used to obscure, deflect and divert attention away from processes of power formation and consolidation, then populism and populism studies do not exist: they are a simulacrum, a con.

While definitional concerns are not core to the argument of this article, it is worth clarifying nonetheless that my work is generally closer to the discursive approach (see Stavrakakis et al., 2018; Katsambekis, 2016, 2020) than to Bourdieu’s. Here though, I would like to focus on the way we as academics use populism, our role in shaping ideas and public discourse, and the impact this has on society. As such, this article is indebted to and builds on an increasingly vibrant self-introspective field (Hunger and Paxton, 2021; Goyvaerts, 2021; Brown, 2022; Dean and Maiguashca, 2020; Eklundh, 2020; Katsambekis, 2020; Kim, 2021; De Cleen and Glynos, 2021). To do so, I first (re)engage with the concept of ‘populist hype’ originally developed with Jason Glynos (2016) and apply it more precisely to academia. I then turn to one key contradiction in populism studies whereby definitional debates are both incredibly lively and yet often used to conceal power. In both sections, I explore the way in which populism has often been conflated with the far right, losing its explanatory power and legitimising such politics. Finally, I conclude with some reflections on the future of populism studies.

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Populism

Is populism a kind of ideology, or is ideology only a part of populism’s definition?

By Franz X. Barrios Suvelza

Contemporary social science has been interested in highly charged topics such as populism. However,theses discussionhave neglected to address the pure methodological challenges that defining such topics can pose. Since debates on populism’s definition have been bogged down in discussions of content, this article proposes to explore specific formal methodological techniques of definition building, that populism experts have used without necessarily being aware ofthem, or which they considered uninteresting, or which they have simply ignored. Three of them are discussed: i) backtracking the generic formal families of analysis, ii) constructing a three-segmented definitional field, and iii) articulating a multistoried definitional procedure. These three methodologies, which draw on Althusserian and Weberian methodological works, are then tested by analysing what role the dimension of ideology plays in the whole definitional work on populism.

***

Defining populism has been plagued by many difficulties. Looking at the dynamics of these debates, at least three patterns can be identified. First, the discussions tend to initially focus on what specific theme should determine the definition of populism. Thus, one major issue has been whether populism should be defined as an ideology or as a strategy (Mudde, 2017; Weyland, 2017). Focusing on one theme, however, is only one option within a specific family of analysis of which those who struggle for the appropriate theme to define populism are not necessarily aware. Second, scholars often believe they are defining populism, when in fact they are defining either an aggravated version of the definiendum, i.e., an authoritarian, charismatic leader who mobilises masses to achieve his or her selfish political goals; or what counts as populism is an object that is merely adjectivised as populist. And third, the definition of populism usually culminates in an initialsentence, which provides sufficient groundwork for research, but is inevitably incomplete. Though scholars understandably want to keep their definition simple, it seems inevitable to come to terms with a follow-up sentence that includes further definitional aspects until one arrives at a more than minimal, yet compact definition of populism.

The purpose of this article is to highlight several formal definitional techniques that can help address these three shortcomings in the definitional work on populism and, on this basis, clarify the role of ideology in defining populism. Formal techniques do not care about substantive aspects of definitions, nor do they care about normative expectations associated with the definiendum. Moreover, the evidence supporting the methodological formal techniques presented here lies not in the actions of populists in reality, but in the impact of mental maps on our way of grasping the world. The formal requirements in definitional work can range from the most basic to the most complex. As for the former, the definition of populism is already in formal disarray when scholars jump from one topic to another in one and the same text (critical Mudde, 2007, p.12). So Peruzzotti (2013, pp. 62, 65, 72), who refers to populism in the same article linking it interchangeably to concepts such as ‘regimes’, ‘movements’, and ‘strategy’, or ‘form of politics’. This article will, however, focus on more sophisticated formal challenges in the definitional work.

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Health check at Polish border in Slubice, Poland on March 17, 2020. Photo: Shutterstock.

The Use of Medical Populism to Claim the Right to Rule in Poland during a Public Health Emergency

By Joanna Rak

The coronavirus pandemic has considerably impacted ongoing political conflicts, power struggles, and (in)stability of political regimes across the world. Election campaigns and elections are vital for the final results of this impact. It is due to the tremendous risk a public health emergency poses to the ability of state authorities to provide safe, universal, equal, genuine, and transparent elections. From this perspective, critical elements of the electoral cycle include cancellation, postponement, postal voting, electronic voting (Landman and Di Gennaro Splendore, 2020, pp. 1061–1062), and candidates’ access to the mass media while running campaigns (Francia, 2018).

In Poland, the right-wing ruling Law and Justice party (Prawo i Sprawiedliwość, PiS) was not eager to postpone the presidential election, which was to be held during a public health emergency even in the face of rising infections, deaths, and widespread criticism (Bill and Stanley, 2020). The incumbent president Andrzej Duda, and at the same time the PiS candidate, was the frontrunner to win a second five-year term. However, as the number of infections and deaths from coronavirus disease increased and the inefficiency and weaknesses of the Polish health care system were exposed, the level of public support for Duda began to decline (Pytlas, 2021). The independent media strengthened the image of Duda as an indecisive, passive president, following the president of PiS, Jarosław Kaczyński’s orders. At the same time, the most influential politicians of the ruling party, including Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki, were engaged in maintaining, increasing, and rebuilding support for the incumbent president (Rezmer-Płotka, 2021). Significant support also came from partisan institutions, especially state media subordinated to the ruling party since 2015, which engaged in the discursive legitimisation of Duda and the delegitimisation of his counter-candidates and opponents organising resistance (Rak, Bäcker, and Osiewicz, 2021). As the OSCE Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights underlined, for the first time in democratic Poland, the public broadcaster TVP failed to meet its legal duty to provide fair and balanced coverage (ODIHR, 2020, p. 4).

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