Dr. Aaron Winter

Dr. Winter: The UK Is Witnessing the Mainstreaming of an Overt White Supremacist and Ethno-Nationalist Discourse

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Aaron Winter examines how the 2026 UK elections reveal not simply electoral volatility, but the accelerating mainstreaming of far-right discourse within British political life. Reflecting on Reform UK’s rise, anti-immigration politics, Brexit, Islamophobia, and the crisis of democratic legitimacy, Dr. Winter argues that Britain is increasingly witnessing “the mainstreaming of the far right” through narratives once considered politically marginal. Drawing on his scholarship on racism, populism, and “reactionary democracy,” he warns that anti-migrant politics now functions as a broader vehicle for exclusionary nationalism, white victimhood, and democratic erosion. The interview explores the normalization of “liberal racism,” the racialization of the “left behind,” and the growing convergence between establishment politics and reactionary nationalism in contemporary Britain.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

The 2026 local and devolved elections in the United Kingdom unfolded amid mounting concerns over democratic legitimacy, political representation, and the accelerating normalization of far-right discourse within mainstream public life. Against a backdrop of Labour’s declining support in key constituencies, the electoral rise of Reform UK, intensifying anti-immigration rhetoric, and growing polarization around nationalism and belonging, Britain increasingly appears caught in what many scholars describe as a broader crisis of liberal democracy. It is within this context that the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) speaks with Dr. Aaron Winter, Senior Lecturer in Sociology (Race and Anti-Racism) at Lancaster University and Research Associate at the University of the Witwatersrand, whose influential scholarship has long examined racism, populism, Islamophobia, reactionary politics, and the mainstreaming of the far right. 

In this wide-ranging interview, Dr. Winter argues that contemporary British politics cannot be understood simply through the language of protest voting or electoral fragmentation. Rather, he contends that Britain is witnessing “the mainstreaming of the far right,” in which immigration, racism, and reactionary politics have increasingly become “the focal points of political discussion and ‘debate’” across both establishment and insurgent political actors. According to Dr. Winter, what is especially striking is not merely the electoral growth of Reform UK, but the extent to which “politics is now increasingly conducted from the center-right through the use of ideas that originate with the far right.” 

Drawing on his collaborative work with Aurelien Mondon, Dr. Winter examines how overt forms of racism historically associated with fascism and white supremacy have increasingly been replaced by “liberal, colorblind racism and Islamophobia” articulated through the language of free speech, women’s rights, national security, and the protection of liberal values. He warns that this process has steadily expanded the political legitimacy of exclusionary nationalism while simultaneously hollowing out democratic alternatives. “We have hollowed out the left while simultaneously accelerating the trajectory toward authoritarianism and fascism,” he argues. 

Particularly significant in this interview is Dr. Winter’s analysis of how the discourse of the “white working class” and the “left behind” has functioned as a vehicle for racialized nationalism after Brexit. He contends that contemporary British politics increasingly revolves around a much more explicit form of ethno-nationalism: “What we witnessed this weekend in London with the rallies,” he states, “is the emergence of a much more overt white supremacist and ethno-nationalist discourse operating irrespective of, and far beyond, class.” 

The interview also explores the intersections between Brexit, Islamophobia, austerity, anti-migrant politics, and democratic decline, situating Britain within broader international patterns visible in Trumpism, European radical-right populism, and authoritarian nationalism. Throughout the conversation, Dr. Winter repeatedly emphasizes that the crisis facing Britain is not simply electoral, but structural: a crisis of capitalism, democracy, and political imagination itself. Yet he also insists that alternatives remain possible—provided democratic politics moves toward “radical reform, anti-racism, and opposition to inequality.”

Britain Is Mainstreaming the Far Right 

UK Protest.
Kill the Bill protesters gather in Parliament Square, London, on July 5, 2021, opposing the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill, which critics argued would expand police powers over public protests in the UK. Photo: Dreamstime.

Dr. Aaron Winter, welcome. To begin, the 2026 local and devolved elections exposed what many analysts describe as the long-term fragmentation of British politics, with Labour’s support collapsing in key areas while Reform UK consolidated backing through anti-immigration rhetoric, anti-establishment anger, and broader cultural grievances. How do you interpret these elections within the framework of your work on “reactionary democracy”? Do they represent a temporary cycle of protest politics, or evidence of a more durable restructuring of British political culture?

Dr. Aaron Winter: That’s a very good question. I do not tend to see this, broadly speaking, as a protest vote, although there are certainly elements of protest voting within it, nor do I necessarily see it as fragmentation at this stage. Rather, I think it reflects a number of overlapping factors and processes unfolding simultaneously. We are still letting the dust settle after the election, and we are still witnessing battles over the leadership of Labour, along with a number of other developments. So, I do not think we can yet conclusively determine where things are heading before further developments take place.

What I do think we are witnessing, however, is what I have described in my work as the mainstreaming of the far right. Immigration, racism more broadly, and other far-right ideas have increasingly become the focal points of political discussion and “debate”—I use the term somewhat ironically—between the two establishment parties, Labour and the Conservatives, as well as newer far-right parties such as Reform UK and Restore Britain, which is positioned even further to the right.

We do not necessarily see this from the Greens, who appear to be presenting an alternative to this kind of politics. Although they have made gains, much of the attention and many of the electoral gains have instead gone to Reform. I think this development has deep roots. It reflects the way in which protest voting, grievances with the system, crises of democratic trust, and growing inequality have all been absorbed into a narrative that positions Reform and the wider far right as the authentic voice of protest and political alternatives.

Yet, if we look closely, these movements actually uphold virtually every aspect of the status quo—the racial status quo, the social status quo, the political status quo, and the economic status quo. They do not challenge capitalism, inequality, or the racism, nationalism, and white supremacy embedded within the system.

Real Protest Is Treated as Extremism

So, I would not describe them as a protest vote, even though they have certainly been framed that way, which I find very interesting. By contrast, the Greens have not been positioned in this manner and have instead faced sustained attacks on various grounds, including allegations of antisemitism and accusations directed at their leader, Zack Polanski. Meanwhile, Reform has not faced the same level of sustained scrutiny for fascist statements, Holocaust denial, or rhetoric that implicitly supports both structural and physical violence.

I find this contrast very revealing because it demonstrates how the system perceives protest differently depending on who is making it. Those who genuinely challenge the system—such as the Greens or pro-Palestinian solidarity movements, as we saw during the Nakba Day rally alongside the Unite the Kingdom far-right march—are labeled extremists, supporters of terrorism, antisemites, or racists. But when the far right mobilizes, it is instead framed as expressing the legitimate concerns of “the people.”

So, protest becomes something that can be domesticated and democratized if it aligns with the broader status quo and dominant political agenda. But if it genuinely threatens the system, it is treated as extremism. And that is deeply ironic at a moment when we are witnessing the mainstreaming of the far right.

Far-Right Ideas Now Shape Mainstream Politics

Nigel Farage speaking in Dover, Kent, UK, on May 28, 2024, in support of the Reform Party, of which he is President. Photo: Sean Aidan Calderbank.

In your work on the mainstreaming of the far right, you argue that the boundary between mainstream conservatism and reactionary politics has become increasingly porous. To what extent did the 2026 elections demonstrate not merely the rise of Reform UK, but the deeper normalization of far-right discourses across the broader political spectrum?

Dr. Aaron Winter: Just to begin by referring back to the previous question, when you asked where I think we are heading, I would say that—worse than the fragmentation of politics—we are moving further down the road toward the mainstreaming of the far right and fascism.

I think this is a product of the blurring of political boundaries. In my work with Aurelien Mondon, we have argued that traditional forms of racism—what is generally understood as overt and explicit racism—had historically been publicly denounced. In their place emerged forms of liberal, colorblind racism and Islamophobia that claim to target culture and ideas rather than race itself.

This discourse often presents itself as an effort to fight illiberal racism by expressing such concerns in more manageable, liberal, and socially acceptable terms. So instead of openly calling for deportations, there are calls for stricter bordering policies. Instead of explicit exterminationist rhetoric, there are calls for deportation and the construction of supposedly moderate and liberal bulwarks against the far right entering government or taking to the streets to commit harassment and violence.

Yet over time, this liberal framework—which simultaneously portrays the far right as illiberal and incompatible with liberal democracy—often ends up treating Muslims and migrants in ways remarkably similar to the far right itself. The difference is that Muslims and migrants do not possess the kind of white or right-wing privilege that can be normalized and represented by establishment parties claiming to be liberal, tolerant, or mainstream conservative.

What has happened over time is that liberal tropes surrounding free speech, women’s rights, and the need to represent the so-called “silent majority” or the “left behind” have increasingly legitimized these ideas. By repeatedly legitimizing them, the far right has been able to co-opt this liberal racism and expand within the political space opened up by a mainstream that believes—or pretends—that it is opposing them.

As a result, the far right has become increasingly mainstream, increasingly legitimate, and increasingly emboldened. We are seeing this reflected not only in electoral polling, but also in far-right mobilization on the streets.

Liberal Racism Expanded the Overton Window

I often reflect on a quote from Hillary Clinton in The Guardian in 2018, where she argued that the only way to stop “right-wing populists”—by which she essentially meant the far right—was to control immigration. I have returned to this quote repeatedly in both my teaching and my research. What exactly is it about the far right that establishment figures find objectionable? It is clearly not simply racism or xenophobia. Rather, it is the threat these movements pose to establishment power.

Their ideas, however, remain acceptable to a certain degree. The concern among establishment actors is that they will lose political ground, that party systems will fragment, and that established parties will decline in support, funding, power, and influence. There is also the argument that if openly far-right actors come to power, conditions for migrants will become even worse. But that is not really a meaningful choice for migrants—to ask whether they prefer things to be bad or even worse.

What is largely absent from these discussions are questions of rights, dignity, freedom, liberation, and the ability simply to live without constantly being treated as a scapegoat or proxy for all of society’s problems.

So, what worries me is that liberal racism, combined with the exceptionalization of the far right, has steadily shifted the political center further to the right and expanded the Overton window. Politics is now increasingly conducted from the center-right through the use of ideas that originate with the far right.

We have hollowed out the left while simultaneously accelerating the trajectory toward authoritarianism and fascism. And people are being harmed in the process. To me, that is far more important than whether establishment parties lose power or whether the political system changes. The system does need to change—but it requires radical reform, not the co-option, pandering, and parroting of far-right politics.

Racism Became Compensation for Inequality

Anti-racism demonstrators march through central London during the National Demo for UN Anti-Racism Day, protesting racism and Donald Trump’s policies. Photo: John Gomez / Dreamstime.

Reform UK’s electoral appeal appears strongly rooted in anxieties over migration, asylum, and national identity. Some analyses identified “anger over immigration/asylum” as one of the major “recruiting sergeants” for Reform voters. How should we understand the relationship between economic insecurity and racialized nationalism in contemporary Britain? Is immigration functioning less as a policy issue than as a symbolic vehicle for wider civilizational anxieties?

Dr. Aaron Winter: That is an extremely important issue and question. What we hear in this narrative—and part of the reason why far-right ideas and constituencies perceived as leaning toward the far right can become valuable and acceptable to establishment parties, particularly Labour—is the claim that this represents a cry against class inequality or an expression of a desire to re-engage with the political system. The problem with that argument is that, even if people are experiencing socioeconomic inequality, it is not only white people or right-wing constituencies who are affected. And those inequalities are not going to be solved by scapegoating migrants or by turning toward far-right parties that ultimately serve capitalist interests. Capitalism, rather than migrants, is responsible for much of the socioeconomic inequality people are experiencing.

It is also very revealing how political rhetoric focuses on “small boats.” The phrase itself emphasizes how small and vulnerable these boats actually are. Yet there is no comparable effort to confront banks, corporations, or the larger systems and structures of power.

What has happened, particularly since 2010, is that Britain experienced austerity alongside deepening cuts to the welfare state, benefits, labor rights, wages, pensions, healthcare, education, and many other areas. These developments have made life extremely difficult for many people.

Some individuals may respond to these conditions by blaming migrants, but many of those affected are themselves migrants or the children of migrants. Others are demanding a left-wing political alternative capable of addressing structural socioeconomic inequality and the inequalities produced by neoliberal capitalism, corporatism, militarism, and racism.

The politics of the right is not going to solve these problems. At a certain point, what happened was that the far right—initially through the Conservatives and now increasingly through Labour—effectively offered racism as compensation to largely white populations experiencing poverty, socioeconomic insecurity, and inequality. Or, at the very least, they claimed that racism was what these constituencies wanted. But that does not solve the underlying problems. Instead, it undermines solidarity between the white working class and the racialized working class, who are also British. This is a very serious, dangerous, and damaging form of divide-and-rule politics that will only intensify socioeconomic, racial, and regional inequalities.

I think we really need to confront this narrative because, too often, when people challenge the idea of the “left-behind white working class,” they are accused of ignoring “the people.” Yet the discourse surrounding populism frequently treats this constituency as though it represents the entire demos, rather than recognizing it as one increasingly valuable political constituency that has been—and likely will continue to be—neglected by economic and political policy.

So, we urgently need to get a handle on this, because racism is becoming worse while socioeconomic inequality is not improving. And that is why we need to understand both the far right and this broader narrative as functional rather than descriptive.

Cultural Anxiety Replaced Material Politics

Stop the Boats.
A “Stop the Boats” Union Jack flag displayed on a building in Weston-super-Mare, North Somerset, England, on August 27, 2025. Photo: Andre Whaker / Dreamstime.

In Whiteness, Populism and the Racialisation of the Working Class,” you critique the construction of the “white working class” as the authentic embodiment of “the people.” Did the 2026 elections reproduce this same racialized populist narrative? And how has the language of the “left behind” continued to legitimize exclusionary politics after Brexit?

Dr. Aaron Winter: That was a dominant narrative around Brexit. It had actually been a significant narrative in the 2000s, when the British National Party (BNP) was rising in former industrial and deindustrialized areas, including parts of East London. At the time, the Labour government, under Community Secretary John Denham, argued that if these identities, celebrations, and cultural concerns were not addressed and prioritized in the same way as those of other groups, their grievances could become dangerous. It was, in many ways, a kind of anti-multicultural reversal.

This was not only a BNP narrative; it was also reflected in far-right studies and political science literature that emphasized demand-side explanations, arguing that people feared ethnic competition and becoming the “losers of modernity,” and so on. What struck me at the time—I had just finished my PhD—was watching academics and the BNP effectively using the same narrative: one diagnostically, though functionally, and the other strategically. As a result, the “white working class” and “left behind” narrative came to dominate political discourse throughout Brexit and continued to do so until quite recently. It was somewhat less pronounced in this most recent election.

This election was different in certain respects. And I should add that this discussion also connects to arguments made by figures such as Matthew Goodwin and Robert Ford, as well as Arlie Hochschild in the United States, about fears of change and threats to identity. These arguments were often framed as socioeconomic in nature. But they largely ignored elites. They ignored abstention among those below the poverty line and lower on the socioeconomic scale. And what they also did was to substitute material conditions with cultural anxieties. Those are not the same thing.

What I think has happened more recently—particularly what we witnessed this weekend in London with the rallies—is the emergence of a much more overt white supremacist and ethno-nationalist discourse operating irrespective of, and far beyond, class. At the same time, we saw something else that is part and parcel of this normalization. I always believed that the “white working class” narrative used white inequality as a proxy and shortcut toward a broader white victimization narrative, which the far right has long embraced.

What has happened now is that this discourse has become so normalized that it is framed around ideas such as “our right to be British,” “our flags,” and similar themes. Simultaneously, there is a deliberate highlighting of racialized and migrantized participants in the Unite the Kingdom rally in order to claim: “See, we’re not racist.” And then they accuse the opposing side at the rallies—not in a simple binary sense, but those on the other side—of antisemitism and hate. In effect, they reverse the accusation, declass the issue, and attempt to balance overt white nationalism and fascism with a populist narrative centered on “ordinary people.”

I am not saying class has disappeared. I think Labour continues to make these arguments because it remains one of the few remaining connections to its historical legacy of representing workers and the left. So, they continue to say: “We’re going to fix inequality” and “We’re going to address the cost-of-living crisis.”

Reform Thrived on Mainstream Narratives

Reform UK
A placard urging voters to support Reform UK candidate Richard Pearse during the UK general election campaign in Weston-super-Mare on July 4, 2024. Photo: Keith Ramsey / Dreamstime.

Much commentary surrounding Reform UK frames its rise as a revolt against metropolitan liberal elites. Yet your work suggests that such narratives often obscure the role of mainstream institutions, media, and political actors in legitimizing reactionary discourse. To what extent are Labour and Conservative elites themselves implicated in creating the ideological conditions for Reform’s success?

Dr. Aaron Winter: You asked earlier about Reform gaining votes, and I made the point about demand versus supply. We have an elite media and political ecosystem that has done little more than echo and parrot the far right. Academics, commentators, and political actors have repeatedly argued that this is what parties must do to survive, that this is where the votes are, and that this is what public opinion supposedly demands. So, it is hardly surprising that everyone is now talking about these issues and that Reform has benefited from it.

Part of the reason Reform has benefited is that, despite claims that it is “shaking up” politics, what we effectively have are two establishment parties and Reform, all advancing different versions of the same political agenda. That, in itself, represents a crisis of democracy rather than a genuine protest alternative, as I noted earlier.

What is also important is that many of these narratives are fundamentally false: the idea that this is purely a protest movement, that it is exclusively about the white working class, or that it is fundamentally rooted in socioeconomic inequality. There is also the recurring depiction of certain places as no longer “really” Britain or “really” England—places portrayed as mixed, lost, or transformed into so-called “no-go zones.” I hear this rhetoric constantly about London.

It is part of a strategy of divide and rule. But it also reflects an idea the far right has spent years carefully developing and refining: the notion that the “real people”—their constituency, largely white and sharing the same national identity as the nation itself—are perpetually under threat. Increasingly, this takes on an almost apocalyptic tone, expressed through “replacement” theories and related conspiratorial narratives.

Reform’s targeting of London is particularly revealing in this regard. They do not simply attack metropolitan elites; they portray London itself as a city that has been “taken over,” while simultaneously claiming that “real working-class Londoners” are now afraid to go outside. So, at the same time, London is represented as a place containing the last remaining white working-class communities who have supposedly “had enough.”

You can see the contradictions running throughout this discourse. It is similar to the idea that Nigel Farage is somehow a man of the people and a representative of the working class, despite being a private-school-educated former finance professional with considerable wealth, multiple jobs, and substantial property holdings.

Labour Cannot Outflank Reform

There is a constant deflection onto questions of socioeconomic inequality, elites, and “the people.” What is particularly striking is that tech billionaires, financiers, and media moguls are somehow excluded from the category of elites, while academics and migrants are cast in that role instead. Meanwhile, the white-only working class is framed simultaneously as both “the people” and “the left behind.”

It is a deeply distorted picture that ultimately makes very little sense. This is also why, when we talk about populism, we need to recognize that this is not a materialist analysis of power, nor is it a class analysis. It is a framing device that performs a political function while containing numerous contradictions.

Yet the media and political establishment seem unable to let go of it. They reproduce it rather than challenge it. And that is precisely why Reform is benefiting. Labour is never going to be as effective as the Conservatives at being Conservative, and neither Labour nor the Conservatives will ever be as effective as Reform at being far right.

As a result, they are losing their own constituencies. I worry particularly about Labour because the left has been hollowed out. We can already see this reflected in the leadership contest now developing. The problem is not only that Labour is losing support to Reform by trying to imitate Reform, but that it has also alienated much of the left and many of its traditional supporters. Aurelien Mondon and I have been arguing this for more than a decade now. The problem simply keeps reproducing itself and becoming worse.

Islamophobia Was Recast as Liberalism

Muslim worshippers, UK.
Muslim worshippers gather for Eid al-Adha prayers at Plashet Park in Newham, London, on June 24, 2023. Celebrations marking the Islamic holiday included communal prayers, feasts, and public festivities. Photo: Abdul Shakoor / Dreamstime.

In your analysis of Islamophobia, you distinguish between “illiberal” and “liberal” articulations of anti-Muslim racism. How was this distinction visible during the 2026 election campaigns? Did anti-Muslim rhetoric emerge primarily through overt far-right language, or increasingly through securitized and culturally coded mainstream discourse?

Dr. Aaron Winter: That is a really important question. When we first started working on this, we framed it as liberal versus illiberal racism. In some of our earlier work, we examined the claimed rejection of traditional forms of racism—fascism, race science, segregation, and other explicitly illiberal forms—in favor of more liberal forms that appeared socially acceptable.

The logic was to denounce the far right while allowing more acceptable forms of racism to remain. Islamophobia became the central case study because Islamophobes often insist: “We are not against people; we are against ideas.” In other words, they claim: “We are liberal, they are illiberal.”

The far right in France, Britain, and many other countries used this strategy to shed the baggage and stigma associated with fascism and Nazism—the most overtly illiberal forms of racism within our framework. They would say things such as: “We support gay rights, women’s rights, and free speech.”

At the same time, this was also connected to a kind of free-speech opportunity model and to the claim that there was a so-called “woke conspiracy” preventing right-wing voices from appearing in the media. That is another contradiction within the Farage, Reform, or Tommy Robinson-style narrative: “We’ve been cancelled, we’ve been silenced,” while repeating those claims constantly on national television. They have not been cancelled. Again, it is an opportunity structure and a business model.

Security Politics Enabled Anti-Muslim Racism

But liberals often fell for this logic because they argued: “We must protect free speech, even if we dislike the ideas. Otherwise, pressure will build, and eventually fascism will emerge electorally, institutionally, and on the streets.”Ironically, we largely arrived at this situation through that very liberal approach.

Islamophobia has often been articulated through issues such as women’s rights and gay rights. We see a version of this in the way Israel “pinkwashes” the occupation and genocide. More recently, we have also seen how issues such as grooming gangs and the murder of young girls in the Southport attack have been mobilized as opportunities to target hotels housing asylum seekers or to justify demonstrations framed around “taking back the streets” and “protecting our women.”

These are presented as forms of liberalism and progress. But they clearly draw on a long history of patriarchal protectionism and the use of the “defense” of white women to attack racialized individuals and communities. Historically, we can trace this back to the Ku Klux Klan and lynchings in the United States.

We therefore have to understand this election, the previous election, and the riots that occurred in between as part of a broader process in which Islamophobia and anti-migrant racism are justified through the language of protecting liberal democracy. The far right does not actually want liberal democracy, while establishment parties want to preserve it. But both are increasingly focused on the same supposed threat, albeit in relation to different political ideals.

In that sense, both are doing tremendous harm to migrants and Muslims. And they are not actually protecting democracy because a democratic system would have to represent people equally, rather than representing some at the expense of the dehumanization of others treated as collateral damage.

What has also happened is that, although the United Kingdom is represented through the language of ordinary people, flags, patriotism, nationalism, pride, fear, and anxiety about migration—particularly “illegal migration”—the discussion very quickly shifts from migration in general to Muslims specifically.

There were horrific scenes of Islamophobia at that march. And we have to remember that the other rally was Nakba 78. Pro-Palestinian protest and solidarity movements have increasingly been treated through both liberal and illiberal forms of Islamophobia: they are accused of antisemitism, of rejecting democracy, and of opposing free speech. Yet those marches are not Hamas. They include Jewish people, left-wing people, people of all faiths and none, and participants from many different communities.

But you can see how quickly politics shifts from overtly illiberal rhetoric to liberal securitized responses: “We are going to crack down, proscribe organizations, securitize, ban, accuse, and arrest.” You see a very different political response toward movements supporting racialized communities associated with Muslims than toward movements associated with Islamophobia, racism, and highly narrow and exclusionary definitions of Britishness.

The contrast has been shocking. One thing we may now be starting to see, however, is somewhat more criticism of Unite the Kingdom than in previous moments. I think that may indicate that many people are increasingly frightened by the electoral consequences, rather than genuinely defending the communities being targeted. 

Brexit Was About Identity and Belonging

Brexit suporters, brexiteers, in central London holding banners campaigning to leave the European Union on January 15, 2019.

Following Brexit, many expected anti-immigrant politics to lose salience once Britain formally left the European Union. Yet migration appears even more central to political mobilization in 2026. What does this tell us about Brexit itself? Was Brexit ever fundamentally about sovereignty and economics, or was it always primarily about race, identity, and belonging?

Dr. Aaron Winter: I think it was about the latter. On one hand, the fact that Brexit was fundamentally about immigration and certain very particular, ill-formed ideas about sovereignty says a great deal. I say “ill-formed” because the focus was placed almost entirely on the EU as the central power structure, while offering little or no critique of internal structures of power. There was no serious reflection on domestic systems of governance, rights, or law. That is why you ended up with judges being labeled traitors.

What is also interesting is that Brexit did not ultimately “solve” migration. Partly, this is because the immigrants initially being targeted included white European migrants. But once European migration slowed, the speed with which the discourse shifted toward Muslims and Africans—and became overtly racialized—revealed how this politics had already been gradually whitewashing and mainstreaming itself.

Brexit emboldened these politics rather than satisfying them, and that is a very important point. I remember that when Jo Cox was murdered, I thought the country might stop and reflect. Instead, what we witnessed was a shift from individualizing and exceptionalizing a far-right actor and murderer to normalizing the ideas he expressed. Not the violence itself, but the rhetoric and worldview underpinning it.

That made me worry that there would be no real restraints on these politics, no stopping point, and that they would simply continue escalating. What has remained constant throughout has been the anti-immigrant argument, which has become far more extreme and widespread over time. The media bears part of the responsibility for this, as does the political establishment, both of which embraced the idea that immigration was the defining issue shaping public concern and electoral behavior. Yet I never believed that everyone voting in Britain was anti-migrant or racist.

What is also important is that migration and Islamophobia are deeply interconnected. The migrants, asylum seekers, and refugees who are most heavily targeted are often targeted precisely because they are Muslim. 

So yes, Brexit was always fundamentally about migration, race, identity, and belonging, even if those concerns also served to obscure broader political and economic dynamics operating behind the scenes. At the same time, Brexit was imagined as something that could “solve” migration in ways it never realistically could. Refugee and asylum flows have continued, whereas many people seemed to believe Brexit itself would somehow end them. But these movements continue for many reasons, including ongoing wars and global crises that people are trying to escape.

I also think that the mainstreaming of racism and far-right politics has depended heavily on the demonization of migrants while simultaneously insisting that this is not racism, but simply a “legitimate concern.” It is framed through rhetoric such as: “Surely we must be able to protect our own borders.” That rhetoric continues to carry political salience regardless of whether the far right itself rises electorally or not. Unless someone directly challenges and delegitimizes that argument, it will continue to grow. But that has not happened, partly because the issue still functions as a distraction from the multiple crises that political institutions are either mismanaging or failing to manage altogether.

Brexit Exposed Britain’s Internal Divisions

The elections also revealed strong territorial fragmentation across the United Kingdom, with Wales, Scotland, and England moving in increasingly divergent political directions. How does the rise of English nationalism intersect with contemporary right-wing populism? And does Brexit continue to deepen centrifugal pressures within the Union?

Dr. Aaron Winter: We saw, particularly in the 2010s and in response to the Scottish independence referendum, the emergence of a form of unionism alongside calls for an English parliament and a stronger English nationalism. In part, this was an attempt to compete with devolution, but it was also driven by the perception that “we,” as English people, had somehow lost out.

At the same time, when we talk about Britain and Brexit, we often obscure the very real and significant differences within the United Kingdom itself. One important point is that, if Brexit had truly been a straightforward expression of white working-class alienation, disenfranchisement, and socioeconomic inequality, then Scotland, proportionally speaking, would also have voted for Brexit. But that simply did not happen.

Scotland has articulated a form of nationalism framed in much more progressive terms compared to English nationalism and to dominant forms of British nationalism more broadly. But that does not mean there are no problems in Scotland, Wales, or elsewhere regarding growing anti-immigrant sentiment.

In some places, particularly Scotland, there have been attempts to clamp down on and address these developments. But we have to watch this carefully, and we need to avoid overgeneralizing. At the same time, we also need to avoid portraying certain places as entirely exceptional, as though Scotland somehow has no such problems at all.

Likewise, we should not assume that the so-called “red wall” in the north of England is, by definition, uniformly working class and racist. We need more localized analysis, we need to actually speak to people, and we need to move beyond polling designed purely for political utility, electoral strategy, or tactical advantage. We need to understand people more seriously while also challenging narratives that scapegoat others.

Capitalism and Democracy Are Both in Crisis

Photo: Iryna Kushnarova.

The 2026 elections appear to reveal not simply partisan volatility, but a deeper crisis of democratic legitimacy, trust, and representation. Do you see parallels between Britain today and wider international trends visible in Trumpism, European radical-right populism, and authoritarian nationalism elsewhere?

Dr. Aaron Winter: Yes, I do, and I think this is fundamentally a crisis of both capitalism and democracy. The problem, however, is that the solutions currently being offered are not more egalitarian or genuinely democratic alternatives, but rather more unequal forms of capitalism alongside a model of democracy in which political representation increasingly exists only through different variations of bordering politics, conservatism, or pro-business agendas. I think, that is extremely dangerous, both for the people at the sharp end of these politics and for democracy itself. It is not a healthy democratic condition. In fact, democracy is being further degraded in response to the crisis.

Part of this is also tied to how protest and the “protest vote” are framed. We are seeing something somewhat different in the United States, where there has long been a very narrow political spectrum, consisting essentially of a centrist party and a right-wing party that has moved even further to the right. Since the Clinton era, the Democratic Party itself has also shifted rightward.

We have seen something similar with Labour in Britain, although Labour did briefly move back toward the left under Jeremy Corbyn. We do not really see an equivalent development within the Democratic Party in the United States.

So, while the crisis of polarization is certainly real in terms of how politics is experienced, performed, and articulated, it is not necessarily reflected in a major ideological distance between Democrats and Republicans on a range of issues, whether concerning Israel or the welfare state, for example.

I also think the crisis of democracy will not be resolved if political systems continue offering different versions of essentially the same politics, without creating space and oxygen for genuine forms of protest—whether on the streets, through elections, within party politics, or at local and national levels.

And we are seeing similar tendencies across the world. At the same time, we still need to distinguish between the different contexts in which these developments are unfolding. I do not particularly like framing this as a singular “populist wave.” What I do see, however, is the ongoing mainstreaming of far-right ideas. At the same time, in many cases, the status quo is being reaffirmed rather than challenged, while democracy is being degraded rather than revitalized. And I think that is a very clear international pattern.

Britain Needs Radical Democratic Reform

And lastly, Dr. Winter, your recent work argues that the mainstreaming of reactionary politics depends not only on extremist actors, but on the normalization of their discourse within public life. Looking ahead to the next UK general election, do you believe Britain is approaching a moment in which reactionary nationalism becomes hegemonic—or do you still see the possibility for a genuinely pluralistic and anti-racist democratic alternative to emerge?

Dr. Aaron Winter: It is an excellent and very important question. I certainly want such an alternative to emerge. But I think that, unless politics becomes centered around radical reform, anti-racism, and opposition to inequality, things are not going to change.

I am deeply worried about the movement toward both reactionary democracy and increasing authoritarianism and fascism. At the same time, however, I have consistently argued in my work with Aurelien Mondon, as well as in my broader scholarship, that we cannot simply fearmonger about these developments while ignoring the fact that the political center itself wants to hold. And it wants to hold without fundamentally changing anything.

I am even hearing terms now such as “radical centrism” and the “radical middle,” and I think these are currently very dangerous ideas because they effectively suggest that the choice is between fascism or more of the same—only slightly worse because we are told it is necessary in order to fight fascism.

But that is not a political trajectory that supports radical reform, structural transformation, anti-racism, or equality in any meaningful sense. We really have to push for those things. We need a healthy democracy, we need a genuinely critical alternative, and we need to stop not only the march of racism, reactionary politics, and fascism, but also the continued reaffirmation of the narratives that brought us to this point. That includes mainstream narratives about the “left behind,” about liberalism versus illiberalism, about the so-called “populist wave,” and about the idea that we must further compromise an already compromised system simply to prevent something worse, while preserving a political order that is increasingly no longer fit for purpose.

General strike in British Embassy in Tehran in 1905.

Silenced Voices in a Democratic Dawn: How Iranian Constitutionalists Weaponized ‘the People’ Against Minorities

DOWNLOAD ARTICLE

Please cite as:
Ragheb, Ali. (2026). “Silenced Voices in a Democratic Dawn: How Iranian Constitutionalists Weaponized ‘the People’ Against Minorities.” Populism & Politics (P&P). European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). May 20, 2026. https://doi.org/10.55271/pp0054

 

Abstract 

The Iranian Constitutional Revolution (1905–1911) marks the genesis of modern Iranian political discourse, introducing concepts like nation, liberty, and the people as citizen rather than ra’iyat (in landlord-peasant system). Conventional explanations attribute its failure to foreign intervention, elite factionalism, or ideological extremism. A closer look shows another perspective: the revolution collapsed due to the leadership’s deliberate post-victory narrowing of “the people” as an empty signifier, excluding women, the urban poor, and religious/ethnic minorities who had fueled initial mobilization. Employing qualitative content analysis of primary sources – including underground leaflets, parliamentary debates, police and spy reports, photographs, historical books and memoirs – coded via Atlas.ti, the study traces discursive and institutional mechanisms of exclusion. Integrating Laclau’s theory of populism (empty signifier), Rancière’s “part of no part,” and Chatterjee’s civil/political society distinction, it identifies four causal pathways: class interests, clerical hegemony, legal fixing, and performative contempt. These exclusions eroded the multiclass coalition, rendering the Parliament indefensible in 1908 and 1911. By reframing failure as coalition disintegration, the article contributes theoretically to populist rupture studies and empirically to Iranian historiography, offering a cautionary global lesson on revolutions that mobilize broadly but consolidate narrowly.

Keywords: Iranian Constitutional Revolution, populism, the people, political exclusion, social movements, democracy, Qajar Iran, Women, Urban Poor, Minorities.

 

By Ali Ragheb*  

A Brief Historical Overview of the Constitutional Revolution in Iran  

The Constitutional Revolution was a pivotal event in modern Iranian history, interpreted in sharply divergent ways. Traditional accounts focus on liberty and constitutionalism, while Marxist historiography (Jazani, 2009) sees it as a bourgeois revolution. Neither fully captures its social complexity. The movement was driven by intellectuals, artisans, traders, and urban workers, with clergy and merchants playing indispensable but ambivalent roles. Protests in 1905–1906 forced Moẓaffar al-Dīn Shah to grant a constitution and national assembly, with Tehran and Tabriz as strongholds. The telegraph spread the uprising, and a flourishing press expanded political speech. However, suppression of protesters and the royalist coup of June 1908 by the Cossack Brigade broke the fragile equilibrium. The court mobilized the urban poor through poverty and clerical influence. Tabriz became the radicalized resistance center; in Gilan, constitutionalist leaders restrained peasant uprisings. A rift widened between secular intellectuals and conservative clergy like Shaykh Fażl-Allāh Nūrī, who was executed in 1909. Conservative forces then gained influence, and factional strife between Moderates and Democrats (later Social Democrats) paralyzed reform. Russian military intervention, accepted by Britain, led to the dissolution of the Second parliament in December 1911 and the revolution’s defeat. The revolution thus shows a paradox: high mobilization and political innovation could not sustain the coalition that made them possible. Understanding this requires examining social diversity, political strategy, and institutional choices over time, beyond narratives privileging ideas or class alone.

Introduction and Research Problem   

The most iconic photographs of the Constitutional Revolution (Rostami, 2006; Tabatabaei, 2011; Purhossein Khoniq, 2020) depict the sanctuary-taking (bast-nishīnī) or general strike at the British Embassy in the summer of 1906 as the movement’s turning point. According to accounts, “around 14,000 people” participated in this scene, a figure close to one-third of Tehran’s workforce (Afary, 1996: 55). Yet, these photographs only capture the urban protesters in Tehran, whereas historical narratives indicate that vast populations in other major Iranian cities, such as Tabriz and Rasht, also joined the revolutionaries. 

General strike in British Embassy in Tehran.

What is most striking about these scenes is not merely their scale, but their diversity. The social composition of this crowd was notably diverse, encompassing clergy and students, intellectuals, merchants, guild members, traders, artisans, and both skilled and unskilled laborers. As one eyewitness recounted, “I saw over 500 tents; every craft, even shoemakers, nut-sellers, and tinsmiths, had at least one tent,” (Abrahamian, 1969: 133). Similar reports from the supplementary constitutional protests speak of “one hundred thousand people” in the streets (Abrahamian, 1979: 411). This sheer scale of participation lends significance to the concept of “the people,” despite its inherent ambiguity, within the social context of the time.  

This broad solidarity, however, proved short-lived. The constitutionalists secured their initial demands with remarkably little bloodshed, yet less than two years later, on 23 June 1908, when Colonel Liakhov shelled the Parliament on the Shah’s orders, the great crowds had vanished. Only a small core of committed revolutionaries remained to resist -a disappearance that cannot be explained solely by repression, because mass mobilization had previously withstood severe violence. 

The central question of this study is therefore straightforward: why did “the people” disappear from the scene, and why was the Revolution unable to withstand the counter-revolutionary assault? Although the populace returned to the fray and recaptured Tehran after the Minor Tyranny 1908–1909, the Second Parliament suffered the same fate as the first. 

I approach this question by examining the concept of “the people” not as a fixed social category, but as a politically constructed and contested one. It argues that the meaning of “the people” shifted over time, shaped by competing discourses and strategic considerations. These shifts were not merely semantic; they had concrete political consequences, influencing patterns of inclusion, exclusion, and mobilization. I examine the concept of “the people” in juxtaposition with “statesmen,” “revolutionaries,” and “revolutionaries in power,” demonstrating that the term possesses a fluid meaning whose referents shift depending on the prevailing discourses. This fluidity was not accidental but politically weaponized. In pre-Constitutional Iran, society was defined by the binary of arbāb and ra’iyat (landlord and peasant), and reforms from above (such as the activities of Amīr Kabīr and Sipahsālār) were implemented without the engagement of the masses. Yet, the expansion of new relationships and the influx of modern concepts, including law and parliament, fractured the ancient structure and allowed for the emergence of “the people” as rightful holders of political rights.  

To comprehend this transition, one must consider the landlord-peasant structure and patrimonialism, where the Shah was the “Shadow of God” and the source of justice and security. The Constitutional movement challenged this system by introducing concepts such as the nation, law, and representation. Even religious scholars such as Mīrzā Muhammad Hossein Nāʾīnī sought to reconcile sharīʿa with ʿurf in order to legitimize the new understanding of the people. However, this reconciliation remained partial and elite driven. This dialogue between traditional and modern forces was evident in the First and Second Parliaments, though the mechanism of dialogue gradually eroded with the ascendancy of landowners and the gentry, and the language of power was once again reproduced from above. The Constitutional experience thus revealed that the transition from ra’iyat to citizen was the outcome of intense intellectual and social struggle, but that transition was never institutionalized. Although law, suffrage, and parliament temporarily reshaped popular political consciousness, internal divisions and external pressures combined to arrest the process before it could mature.  

The present study focuses on this rupture, by re-examining primary documents and tracing social dynamics after the initial victory. The analysis therefore proceeds along two axes: first, identifying which groups were incorporated into the revolutionary category of “the people” during the initial phase of mobilization; and second, tracing how and why certain groups were subsequently marginalized or excluded. By answering these interrelated questions, I offer a new internalist theory of revolutionary failure that complements – but does not dismiss – existing externalist and structural accounts. 

Here, I argue that the failure of the Iranian Constitutional Revolution cannot be fully explained by external intervention, ideological radicalization, or institutional weakness alone. Instead, it resulted from the progressive narrowing of “the people” as a political category after the initial revolutionary victory. During mobilization (1905–1906), “the people” functioned as an expansive and flexible category that enabled the formation of a broad, multi-class urban coalition. However, once the constitutional order was established, this inclusive category was gradually restricted through legal design, institutional practices, and political discourse. This narrowing excluded key segments of the original coalition -particularly the urban poor, women, religious minorities, and peripheral populations- undermining the Revolution’s social base. As a result, when the counter-revolutionary assault occurred in 1908 and again in 1911, the constitutional regime was unable to remobilize the mass support that had initially secured its success. What becomes visible here is that this process was not merely incidental but partly deliberate, driven by elite concerns over order, property, and political control. The central claim is therefore that exclusion was not a by-product of failure- it was one of its primary causes.

Background and Mapping Gaps

Scholarship on the Constitutional Revolution has adopted social, discursive, and political perspectives, all of which confirm that reconstructing the role of social forces is inseparable from analyzing mechanisms of representation and exclusion. Najmabadi (2005), through close reading of speeches and clandestine leaflets, shows that even at the height of mobilization the dominant discourse constructed a male addressee and symbolically excluded women. This selective logic operated on a far wider scale. Afary (1996) has demonstrated that decisions about what enters the official record and what is omitted are never neutral; they silence groups that were effective participants but later deemed inconvenient. 

Many dominant narratives – whether presented as the “true history” or as Iran’s “first national uprising”- have relegated local, regional, or transnational dimensions to the margins. Examples abound: the sale of girls in Quchan eclipsed by the killing of theology students (Najmabadi, 1998); the ideas of educated elites privileged over the actions of the popular classes; local movements judged solely by their alignment with “national” events. All such choices constitute acts of cultural power. De Groot (2010) illustrates how Constitutional historiography has redistributed agency among groups according to subsequent ideological needs, while Cronin (2010) interprets the Revolution as a state-building project in which tension between elites and popular forces shaped the emerging power structure. Abrahamian (1969), finally, emphasizes collective action and street mobilization as the movement’s driving force.  

Despite this rich body of work, no study has yet systematically traced how the victorious revolutionary leadership actively narrowed the meaning of “the people” after 1905 in order to consolidate power, nor has the causal link between such exclusion and the Revolution’s inability to defend the parliament in 1908 and 1911 been rigorously established. 

I address that gap by advancing a more focused argument: that one of the key factors in the revolution’s failure was the inability or unwillingness of the victorious leadership to sustain the broad coalition that had enabled its success. Once in power, revolutionary actors faced competing demands from a highly heterogeneous base. Rather than accommodating this diversity, they often responded by narrowing the scope of political inclusion, excluding certain groups for both political and material reasons.

This perspective engages directly with alternative explanations. A common argument in the literature is that exclusion emerged unintentionally, as a by-product of ideological radicalization or external pressures. While such factors were undoubtedly present, the evidence suggests that exclusion was frequently more deliberate and strategic than is often assumed. It was not merely something that happened to the revolution; it was, in part, produced from within. By foregrounding these internal dynamics, I propose a reinterpretation of the revolution’s trajectory. It suggests that the collapse of the popular coalition -and the contradictions among the groups that initially formed it- played a more central role than is typically acknowledged. 

Theoretical Framework and Method   

In studies of the Constitutional Revolution, the “crowd” or “street force” is an ever-present yet under-theorized actor. Despite the decisive role played by popular mobilization in modern Iranian history, neither historians nor sociologists have subjected it to systematic analysis. Contemporaries either celebrated the crowd as heroic defenders of liberty and justice or dismissed it as “riff-raff” and “vagrants” manipulated by rulers or foreign powers. European observers produced caricatures that ranged from exotic fascination to outright contempt, while literary representations cast the crowd as a fickle, uncontrollable force capable of toppling governments overnight. In short, the crowd has remained an abstract symbol -admired, feared, or ridiculed- rather than an object of empirical investigation (Abrahamian, 1969: 128–129).  

Classical studies of popular collective action, notably George Rudé’s (1964) studies of European crowds, as well as more recent theories of “the people” as a performative and always contested political subject (Laclau, 2005; Rancière, 1999, 2016; Chatterjee, 2020), provide a useful starting point by demonstrating that crowds are not inherently irrational but operate within recognizable patterns shaped by social and economic conditions. 

The descriptions related to the crowds active in the Revolution are mainly extracted from Persian and English historical sources: works by Browne (1910), Dawlatābādī (1983), the British Foreign Office correspondence on Iran, newspapers like Ḥabl al-Matīn and Ṣūr-i Isrāfīl, as well as Constitutional histories by Kasravi (1975), Malekzadeh (1984), Sharif Kashani (1983) and Nazem-al-Islam Kermani (1978) among others. Together these texts provide a rich, if heterogeneous, portrait of crowd behavior and social composition, making clear that understanding the role of “the people” demands moving beyond the stereotypes of “thugs” or “national heroes.”  

Equally ambiguous and closely related is the Persian term mardom (“people”). No conception of “the people” ever includes the entire population within a given territory; every version excludes and marginalizes some groups even as it claims universality (Rockhill, 2014; Chatterjee, 2020). Didi-Huberman (2016) reminds us that there are always multiple, coexisting “peoples” whose unity is far less coherent than imagined. Rancière (2016) goes further: the people have no existence independent of the conflicting representations produced of it, each with its own attributes, beliefs, and practices.  

In Iranian culture, the closest conceptual equivalent to the word mardom in the Persian language is the term mellat(“nation”). When the European concept of “nation” was first translated into Persian, mellat was chosen, yet before the Constitutional period mellat retained its pre-modern meaning of religious community or sect. Only during the Revolution did it begin to acquire its modern sense. 

Therefore, this study rests on three interconnected theoretical pillars to theorize the populist dynamics of “the people”: 

(1) Ernesto Laclau’s concept of the empty signifier (Laclau, 2005): During the revolutionary upsurge, “the people” (mardom/mellat) functioned as an empty signifier, flexibly uniting heterogeneous demands against the patrimonial order. Post-victory, it was differentially filled with particular content (male, propertied, Shiʿi), producing necessary exclusions in the populist chain of equivalence.  

(2) Jacques Rancière’s “the part of no part” (Rancière, 1999): Women, the urban poor, and religious minorities embodied those with no countable part in the pre-revolutionary police order, briefly disrupting it through egalitarian claims. Their post-victory “disqualification” was a reimposition of police logic, rendering them invisible in the new perceptual distribution of the sensible.  

(3) Partha Chatterjee’s distinction between civil and political society (Chatterjee, 2004): The Revolution forged a narrow civil society of literate, propertied males while relegating the subaltern majority to a managed “political society,” whose mobilizations were tactical and revocable.  

Taken together, these perspectives provide a framework for analyzing the shifting meaning of “the people” during the Constitutional Revolution. They allow us to move beyond static definitions and instead examine how this category was constructed, contested, and redefined over time.

Methodologically, I employed qualitative content analysis, combining thematic and discourse-analytic coding performed with Atlas.ti 24. The analysis draws on a diverse corpus of primary sources, including newspapers, memoirs, parliamentary debates, police and intelligence reports, underground leaflets, communiqués, historical works and visual materials.

Table 1. Data sources 

Source Type Examples Time Coverage Analytical Role
Newspapers Ḥabl al-Matīn, Ṣūr-i Isrāfīl, Musāwāt, Rūḥ al-Qudus 1905–1911 Discursive construction of “the people”; public debate
Parliamentary Debates Proceedings of the First National Assembly 1906–1908 Institutional decisions; legal exclusion
Memoirs & Chronicles Dawlatābādī, Kermani, Kasravi Retrospective Elite perceptions; narrative framing
Leaflets & Proclamations Underground publications, political declarations 1905–1908 Mobilization language
Archival Reports British Foreign Office reports 1905–1911 External observation; social reactions
Local Anjumans Tabriz Association records 1906–1908 Centre–periphery dynamics

These sources offer multiple vantage points on the revolution, though they also reflect the biases and limitations of their respective contexts. The corpus selection inevitably reflects archival survival biases, and contemporary police/intelligence reports often exaggerate disorder to justify repression. To address these limitations, the study adopts a strategy of triangulation, comparing different types of sources in order to identify recurring patterns and discrepancies. 

The coding scheme includes three primary clusters:

  • Inclusion Codes: references to broad, collective mobilization (e.g., “nation,” “people,” “public,” “all classes”)
  • Exclusion Codes: explicit or implicit boundary-making (e.g., references limited to Muslims, men, propertied groups, or “respectable” citizens)
  • Delegitimation Codes: representations of segments of the population as ignorant, disorderly, or politically unfit

These codes are applied across source types to identify shifts in discourse and their alignment with institutional decisions. Analytical emphasis is placed on moments where discursive narrowing coincides with legal or political exclusion.

Findings

Social Configuration and the Revolutionary Construction of “the People” 

Qajar Iran was characterized by an exceptional degree of social, ethnic, and religious diversity. This diversity was not merely demographic but structurally embedded in geography, economic organization, and patterns of political authority. Mountain ranges, deserts, and regional isolation had long preserved distinct local identities, resulting in a mosaic of linguistic, ethnic, and sectarian communities. Persians, Bakhtiyārī, Qashqāʾī, Lurs, and Arabs inhabited the central plateau; Baloch and Afshār communities were scattered across the southeast; Kurds, Lurs, and smaller Arab groups lived in the west; Azerbaijanis, Shahsevans, Armenians, and Assyrians dominated the northwest; Gilaks, Talesh, and Mazandaranis lined the Caspian shores; while the northeast contained Persians alongside Turkmen, Kurds, Afshārs, Taymūrīs, Baloch, Tajiks, and Jamshīdīs. Political unity thus coexisted with profound cultural and linguistic fragmentation. This extreme heterogeneity constitutes the essential backdrop for understanding why an apparently inclusive revolutionary discourse of “the people” could so rapidly become a weapon of exclusion.  

Within such a context, Iran’s social structure was also complex and multi-layered. At the dawn of the nineteenth century, Iranian society could be categorized into four principal classes. The highest was the large-landowning class: the Shah and Qajar princes, courtiers, tīyūldārān [holders of land grants], mustawfīyān [financial administrators], ministers, governors, and a collection of government officials. This central elite, alongside local aristocrats, tribal khans, and chiefs, formed a network of political and economic power. A segment of the official clergy, such as judges, Friday Prayer leaders, and Shaykh al-Islāms, were also intertwined with this class. The second class consisted of the wealthy middle class: merchants, small landowners, artisans, and bazaar traders. The bazaar was not only the center of the urban economy but also the lifeblood of religious and educational institutions. Many mosques, religious schools and mourning centers were funded by the capital of merchants and artisans. This fostered a complex, reciprocal relationship between the bazaar and the clergy, from preachers to high-ranking mujtahids. Alongside them, some bazaar merchants were recognized as Sayyids and held significant religio-social roles. 

The third class was made up of urban wage laborers: journeymen, apprentices, skilled workers, servants, construction workers, bathhouse attendants and porters. Finally, the fourth class, the majority of society, comprised villagers and īlāt (nomadic tribes): landless or smallholding peasants caught in the landlord-peasant structure, living far from the center of political power (Abrahamian, 1979; Ashraf & Banuazizi, 1992). The extraordinary occupational diversity of the period is vividly illustrated by the 1877 tax register of Isfahan, which recorded some two hundred independent guilds ranging from silversmiths and bookbinders to bath attendants and porters (Taḥvīldār, 2009).  

Religious diversity further complicated the social landscape. Twelver Shi‘ism predominated, yet Sunni minorities -Kurds, Turkmen, Arabs, and Baloch- coexisted alongside non-Muslim communities of Armenians, Assyrians, Jews, and Zoroastrians. Even within Shi‘ism, sectarian divisions persisted between Ni‘matī and Ḥaydarī orders, orthodox believers, Shaykhīs, Ismā‘īlīs, and followers of the Karīmkhānī lineage. Urban space reflected these cleavages: Shiraz was divided into Ni‘matī, Ḥaydarī, and Jewish quarters; mid-nineteenth-century Tabriz comprised distinct aristocratic, orthodox believers, Armenian, guild, and laboring neighborhoods.  

Qajar society, in sum, was a mosaic of ethnicities, languages, sects, neighborhoods, classes, and power networks -a structure that simultaneously enabled coexistence and harbored deep fissures, and no satisfactory interpretation of the movement is possible without grasping its underlying diversity.  

An investigation of social forces during the Constitutional Revolution shows that the primary nucleus of change emerged from cities, with artisans, tradesmen, urban laborers, and intellectuals forming the revolutionary core against the Court, landowners, and Russian/British influence. The clergy and merchants, initially supportive, became fragmented, with some defecting to the counter-revolution. Tribes shifted allegiances based on local interests, while peasants and ‘ashāyir played no decisive national role beyond limited uprisings (e.g., in Gilan). Thus, the revolution was an urban, multiclass, popular movement sustained by a heterogeneous, brittle, and tactically inclusive coalition vulnerable to post-victory pruning. 

The counter-revolutionary front coalesced around the court, landowners, conservative clergy, dependent tribes, and segments of the urban poor. The 1908 coup relied on the Cossack Brigade and court pensioners; in Tabriz, royalist crowds from impoverished neighborhoods were mobilized by high bread prices and clerical authority. Contrary to older narratives of peasant neutrality, rural unrest did occur in Gilan, villagers attacked landlords, believing constitutionalism meant absolute freedom, but constitutionalist deputies in Tehran ordered their suppression. Elsewhere, clerical or landlord pressure turned peasants against the revolution. Rural participation was real but localized and weak. In cities, the cleavage widened between secular intellectuals and conservative clerics. Intellectuals promoted legal equality, an end to despotism, and liberation from foreign domination via newspapers, but traditionalist clergy resisted. Large merchants and foreign-dependent capitalists also weakened initial unity. 

In the Second Parliament, the share of artisans and intellectuals decreased, while landowners, tribal chiefs, and Qajar bureaucrats gained dominance. The suppression in Tabriz revealed this trend: most of the 35 executed were artisans and shopkeepers (Foran, 1991). Concurrently, royalists exploited religious and ethnic differences to prevent the spread of independent associations and the press in many regions. 

The Urban Poor and the Economic Logic of Mobilization

The precarious economic situation of the Qajar era -poverty, unemployment, and injustice- brought the urban poor into the scene from the outset. These groups were motivated primarily by the hope for bread, work, and social security (Momeni, 1966: 15–19). Many of them did not understand the meaning and function of the “Constitution.” Majd al-Islam Kermani (2017: 44) reported, “One in a thousand knew the meaning of Constitution; that is, in Tehran and other cities of Iran, one in a hundred thousand did not know the meaning … Some rioted for the dismissal of Ain al-Dawleh, a group for the dismissal of Monsignor Naus, some to collect treasury receipts they held from Mushir al-Saltaneh, and others with other motives.” 

Among the lower classes, the Constitutional Revolution was perceived in a profoundly economic sense, to the extent that Motahhari (1999: 382) wrote, “In the Constitutional era, some people were propagated with the idea that Constitution means that every morning fresh bread and kebab will be delivered to everyone’s house.” A similar account is recorded in Tabriz, stating that “Constitution means cheap kebab” (Khalili, 2022: 46). 

These satirical anecdotes are not merely amusing anecdotes; they reveal a profound mismatch between elite political objectives and popular material expectations -a mismatch the victorious leadership never attempted to bridge and instead exploited to demobilize the poor when convenient. This mindset is also evident in popular literature and the poetry of Nasīm-i Shomāl and Iraj Mirza. English translation of Persian poems: In the turmoil of Tehran, the clamor was at the Parliament, / Because the seekers of the Constitution were a chain of destitutes. / Behold the fervor and tumult of the poor, / Behold the commotion of the weak (Hosseini, 1991: 362). Or: The poor are entrapped by subsistence, / They are striving for their nightly bread. / The reason they sometimes speak the word ‘law’ (qānūn), / Is because the last letter of ‘law’ is Nūn [which suggests nūn (bread)]. / If they enter politics, / It is for the sake of job, work, and high office (Iraj Mirza, 1993: 94).  

The Tehran poor -day laborers and the unemployed- initially joined the constitutional movement influenced by preachers and clerics, but their lack of organization and clear ideology made their political behavior volatile. Both sides deliberately engineered this volatility through selective distribution of food, cash, and religious rhetoric. Their presence in events like the destruction of the Russian Bank and sanctuary-taking at the British Embassy required such material incentives. 

Victory and the First Parliament raised expectations, but economic deterioration -soaring bread prices, shortages, unemployment- spread disillusionment. Shaykh Fazlollāh Nūrī’s anti-constitution fatwa found support among those with traditional religious loyalties. Moḥammad-ʿAlī Shah worsened the crisis by withholding court salaries and subsidizing anti-parliamentary agitation. During the Artillery Square clashes, segments of the poor fought on both sides. 

Lūṭīs and Jāhilān (neighborhood toughs) played a dual role: some supported the revolution, but many, bribed by the Court, joined the opposition with slogans like “We want the Prophet’s religion, not a constitution” -though these same groups had previously defended the Parliament. The bombardment of Parliament by the Russian Cossacks ended the revolution’s first phase; some lūṭīs received military rewards. Many poor had sincerely sought social justice, but lacking organization and political awareness, they became victims of elite competition and foreign maneuvering. 

Intellectuals focused on law and liberty, not the subsistence needs of the lower classes. Thus, the urban poor were instrumentalized as revolutionary “muscle,” then deliberately abandoned and re-mobilized against the revolution -because their inclusion threatened the property and status of the new parliamentary elite. Poverty, political inexperience, unawareness, and disorganization fundamentally altered the revolution’s course, rendering it fragile against the royalist coalition and Russian intervention. 

Fractures, Exclusion, and the Collapse of the Popular Coalition 

The initial unity of the constitutionalist coalition unraveled soon after the establishment of the new political order, most notably with the formulation of the Electoral Law. Rather than preserving broad inclusivity, the law restricted participation: women, lower classes, and the illiterate were disenfranchised. Only six classes (Qajar princes, clergy, aristocracy, landowners, merchants, and guild members) could enter Parliament, and only if they met property or business criteria (Abrahamian, 1979: 407-408). 

This was the first deliberate act of legal exclusion, transforming “the people” from a broad revolutionary subject into a narrow propertied and Muslim male citizenry. The First Parliament’s composition confirmed this: affluent bazaar and wealthy middle-class strata secured 60 percent of seats, while lower classes had no role. Victors’ indifference to the poor -refusing tax reductions or addressing bread prices- deepened the fissure. As the British Minister reported, Parliament lost its “general credit.” Constitutionalists lost poor support, alienated cautious religious leaders, and retained only the bourgeoisie and petty bourgeoisie. Middle-class neighborhoods remained revolutionary centers, while lower-class poor neighborhoods became counter-revolutionary strongholds. 

The revolutionary leadership chose class consolidation over coalition maintenance, directly causing the disappearance of crowds in June 1908. This class division was acutely visible in Tabriz: constitutionalists drew strength from affluent neighborhoods like Amirkhīz (merchants, artisans, tradesmen), while royalists based themselves in poorer districts like Davahchī and Surkhāb (porters, muleteers, laborers, unemployed). Religious sectarianism compounded the cleavage: many middle-class constitutionalists followed the Shaykhī school, whereas the orthodox tendency predominated among lower classes, turning the conflict into a quasi-religious war (Abrahamian, 1969: 142–144).

The Center–Periphery Divide  

A second structural fracture separated Tehran from the provinces. Tehran was allotted sixty-two deputies, Azerbaijan only twelve, and major provinces such as Fārs, Kermān, and Khorāsān a mere six each. Tribes, who constituted roughly one-third of the population, and rural areas were granted no representation whatsoever (Kermani, 2017: 56). Ethnic and linguistic minorities were thus structurally erased from the new political imaginary of “the nation.”  

This inequality was exacerbated when the First Parliament began its work solely with Tehran representatives -a revolutionary strategy to deny the counter-revolution an opportunity- with delegates from other cities joining late. Meanwhile, the Tehran assembly operated under the direct pressure of enormous crowds of spectators. Majd al-Eslām Kermani observed that “the entire population of Tehran intervened in the Iranian Parliament,” compelling deputies to vote according to shouted demands from the galleries (Ibid: 62). Although public access was eventually restricted, the early chaos left a lasting imprint.  

Distance and poor communications further marginalized the provinces. Remote regions struggled to form effective anjumans (association), and where such associations emerged, they frequently remained subordinate to local notables. Even royalists established rival anjumansAnjuman-i Khidmat, Anjuman-i Akābir, Anjuman-i Aʿyān—that competed for allegiance with promises of patronage (Kharabi, 2020: ch. 13). The democratic potential of the anjuman movement was thus neutralized, and power remained concentrated along an unequal center–periphery axis.  

Exclusion of Religious Minorities and the Curtailment of Liberties  

A third fracture concerned religious minorities. Conservative clerics insisted only Muslims could sit in parliament. Secular revolutionaries, anxious to retain clerical support, initially acquiesced, making Sayyid ʿAbd-Allāh Behbahānī and Sayyid Muḥammad Ṭabāṭabāʾī proxies for non-Muslims. Armenians and Jews accepted, but Zoroastrians protested and secured a single dedicated seat (Shāhrukh, 2002: 72). 

The draft Supplementary Constitutional Law originally declared “all Muslims equal before the law”; sustained protests forced amendment to “The inhabitants of the Iranian realm shall be equal in the possession of their rights before the state law” (Ibid: 73) -a reluctant concession revealing that equality was never a principled commitment but a tactical retreat. 

During these phases, victorious clergy and revolutionaries began restricting liberties. Revolutionary tools before victory were criminalized afterward. Bihbahānī opposed underground leaflets -a principal revolutionary tool- declaring in Parliament: “If they have a word or a speech, they should write it and bring it to the Parliament… the Parliament must… prohibit these corrupt and malicious persons from these ugly movements” (Session 16, 18 December 1906). 

After victory, leaflets took on an intimidating tone: “Whoever reads this proclamation and fails to circulate it… shall be deemed a traitor and a despot” (Mu‘izzī, 1999: 304). Many armed associations threatened the populace by using the label “despot.” Kermani (2017: 73–74) wrote: “Any poor wretch who fell short in executing what was demanded of him was immediately called a despot… and was branded as invalid.”

Some leaflets showed contempt for the people, e.g., regarding the June 1908 bombardment, the people of Tehran were addressed as: “Die, O less than animals… Let the women of Tabriz acquire freedom for you! Let the children of Azerbaijan sacrifice their lives for the preservation of your religion, honor, and liberty” (Mu‘izzī, 1999: 301). This illustrates how the revolutionary elite shifted from mobilizing “the people” to despising them once they ceased to be useful. 

Prominent intellectuals also held this view: Yaḥyā Dawlatābādī (1983, V. 2: 84) wrote that except for a few, others do not know what law, parliament, or constitution are. Majd al-Islām Kermani (2017: 119, 144–145, 162, 223, 319) described the people as “self-serving,” “wildly ignorant,” “tyrannical and malicious,” “lazy,” and “parasitic.” Thus, intellectuals who had invoked “the people” as sovereign now recoded them as an obstacle to enlightened governance, deepening the chasm between elite and social body.

Women as Active (but Silenced) Subjects

Women were also practically excluded in this discourse. Most leaflets and communiqués addressed only men: “O religious brothers and O zealous men of Iran” (Mu‘izzī, 1999: 281), or “O companions and O brothers…” (Ibid: 282). Women were only mentioned when listed alongside orphans or widows. Although revolutionary discourse was overwhelmingly male-addressed, women were far from passive recipients of exclusion. Women participated in some demonstrations and helped with strikes and sit-ins. Also, from earlier times, women were the vanguard of protests and bread riots (Cronin, 2018). They played a prominent role in the plan to establish a national bank and boycott foreign goods. Moreover, secret women’s anjumans, organized economic boycotts against foreign goods, and even armed themselves during the Tabriz siege of 1908 (Afary, 1996: Ch 7). 

Figures like Bibi Maryam Amjadi and Sedigheh Dowlatabadi led petitions for suffrage, framing women’s inclusion as essential to the egalitarian “people.” Yet, the Electoral Law and Supplementary Fundamental Laws explicitly barred them, justified by claims of unreadiness for civil society (Bayat-Phillip, 1978). This intersectional exclusion -gender compounded by class- highlights how the new police order silenced active disruptors, further eroding the populist coalition.  

Similarly, religious minorities were effectively ignored in many texts through addresses like “The Nation of Islam.” The revolutionary “people,” therefore, was performatively constructed as male, Muslim, and Persian-speaking from the very first days of victory. For instance, in a leaflet entitled “The Request of the Hidden Well-wisher…” (Ibid: 277–278), or in a telegram from “The Constitutionalist Clergy of Tabriz Regarding the Fatwa of the Marja‘s of Najaf and the Opening of the National Consultative Assembly,” signed by city elders, it is written: “It will not be within the honor of the possessor of the sharī‘at that the Nation of Islam be so degraded and the lives, property, and honor of Muslims become the prey of the oppressive group’s sword… and a revolution will occur that will inflict great damage upon the great monarchy, and all the Nation of Iran is prepared to obey the decrees of the Imām; moreover, all Shī‘a co-religionists will become agitated and tumultuous.” (Jamshidiyān, 2016: 139).  

As is evident from this statement, while the language refers to “all the Nation of Iran,” the concrete referent is nothing but Muslims and Shī‘a. In other words, the letter writers, by emphasizing Islam and Shī‘a, firstly exclude and marginalize all Iranians adhering to other religions (Judaism, Zoroastrianism, and Armenians) and, secondly, all non-Shī‘a Muslims. Furthermore, terms such as “Nation” (Millat), “Public” (‘Umūm), and Ra‘iyat are highly ambiguous in these texts, and it is unclear exactly who they encompass. Even in the Parliament, representatives rarely spoke specifically of the people in their constituencies.  

Parliamentarians Indifference and Structural Constraints  

Another clear sign of the rupture between the Parliament and the people was the representatives’ indifference to daily, common issues. In the fourteenth session of the First Parliament, when Ḥājjī Sayyid Ibrāhīm warned about the high price of meat, he was answered: “The issue of meat is related to the government… it has nothing to do with the Parliament.” The same pattern repeated with the Anzalī fishermen’s complaint about the Lianazov contract. This indifference was also structural: incorrect delineation of īyālat and vilāyat boundaries deprived Bāndar-i Langah, Muḥammarah, Anzalī, and Ṭālish of a Provincial Association, allowing only a Municipal Association. Protests of Rasht residents claiming “Rasht is a Province (īyālat), not a District (vilāyat)” yielded no result (Kermani, 2017: 56–58). 

The Law of Associations prohibited all unofficial local associations, restricting local self-organization instead of strengthening popular participation. The contemporary press mirrored this rift. The newspaper Rūḥ al-Qudus initially criticized the government but soon turned on Parliament, writing, “For nearly two years, they have assumed a name without form, a body without a soul—meaning a constitution without reality,” and regarding the Parliament Speaker, stated that “The Speaker of the Parliament must be knowledgeable of the necessities of the time… not deaf…” (No. 27, 4th June 1908: 4). 

Ali-Akbar Dehkhoda, in Charand-o Parand, complained about representatives’ disarray and inexperience. Sayyid Jamāl al-Dīn Vā‘iẓ wrote: “The Sacred National Consultative Assembly… must all be united and of one accord…” (Al-Jamal, No. 15, 27th June 1907). But by late 1907, he attributed Parliament’s inefficiency to hasty election and delegate inexperience (Ibid, No. 26, 22th November 1907). 

The newspaper Musāwāt, despite defending the constitution, criticized the “ignorance of the delegates” (No. 2, 27th October 1907: 4), wrote “We have been deceiving ourselves for two whole years…” (No. 13, 16th February 1908: 1), labeled Parliament as “incapable of defending the poor” and “a tool in the hands of the malicious,” and asked representatives why they used to hide “like veiled women” until yesterday and now shout so brazenly? (No. 18, 22th March 1908: 2–3). Its conclusion: when Tehran is so chaotic, the condition of other cities is self-evident (Ibid: 5). 

In Tabriz, the Tabriz Association repeatedly protested delays in sending the Constitutional Law and Tehran’s passivity. City clerics warned: “As long as they do not dispatch the Constitution towards Azerbaijan… we will not leave the telegraph office” (Tabriz Association, No. 81, 6th May 1907). The Association’s summary of parliamentary debates showed divergence between perception and reality: “The inhabitants have conceived that we are constitutionalized so that we may now commit aggression and injustice ourselves” (Ibid, No. 39, 24th January 1907). A Christian complained that even the purchase of “one kilo of grapes” was forbidden to him, contrary to liberty and equality (Ibid, No. 7, 14th October 1907). The Tabriz Association cited extravagance (No. 6), currency depreciation, population growth without income growth, hoarding, weak transport, and “ignorance” as the “first cause” of economic turmoil. In No. 25, quoting the people of Tabriz, it wrote that Christians had been placed in customs offices without competence instead of Muslims, and another stated: “The Constitutional nature of the government in Iran is a statement, not an action” (Ibid, No. 25).

The Erosion of the Revolution’s Social Base 

The murder of the Zoroastrian Farīdūn and the impunity of his killers struck another blow to the Parliament’s credibility. Majd al-Islām Kermani (2017: 321–322) recounts that following this incident, “all devout and civilized souls” turned away from the Parliament, attributing this distrust to the actions of “irreligious clerics,” “dishonorable orators,” and judiciary components who took bribes and “took an axe to the root of Constitutionalism.” He traced the problem to the electoral structure, which sent “bankrupt merchants” and “money-collecting clerics” to Parliament to pursue personal interests. 

At the societal level, for many people, the Constitution meant nothing but chaos and anarchy. Every disturbance was interpreted with the phrase “Mashrūṭeh (Constitution) became reality”“Gradually, the businesses of hat-making [a derogatory reference to Westernized constitutionalists] and mujāhid [freedom fighter] games expanded, leading to a loss of trust in the Constitution and the constitutionalists; moreover, the word Mashrūṭeh was translated among the people as murder and plunder, so that whoever killed anyone or plundered anywhere, they would say: Mashrūṭeh became reality.”(Mardūkh Kurdistānī, 2000: 549–550). Some constitutionalists regretted that a “plague should have come and they had died” before the Constitution was realized (Afshār, 1980: 52). 

Fiscal mismanagement further undermined confidence: the Finance Commission failed to balance the budget or curb inflation, and soaring bread prices turned roughly a third of the urban population against the assembly. The resulting backlash culminated in the royalist riot at Artillery Square, where court muleteers, neighborhood poor, and followers of Shaykh Fażl-Allāh Nūrī converged to demand abolition of constitutional rule (Kermani, 2017: 276). 

Despite these transformations, constitutionalist historians typically reduced anti-revolution gatherings to “hired thugs,” “gamblers,” and “paid hooligans,” without questioning motivations. Only Malik al-Shuʿarāʾ Bahār briefly mentioned that a segment of the “upper class and lower classes” supported despotism, and only the middle class backed the revolution, but failed to explain factors shaping this alignment (Abrahamian, 1969: 136). Based on Abrahamian, three forces were present in royalist demonstrations: aristocrats and employees dependent on the palace economy; conservative clergy and their students; and segments of the lower classes. Crucially, the lower classes who joined the counter-revolution were often the same people who had earlier filled the streets for the revolution -demonstrating that their “volatility” was produced by deliberate elite abandonment rather than inherent backwardness. This pattern appeared elsewhere: court-dependent muleteers in Tabriz, the retinue of Qawām al-Mulk in Shiraz, and Kermanshah’s division into the “People’s Party” and the “Aristocrats’ Party.” 

Conservative clerics played a decisive role: Sheikh Fazlollah and Ḥājjī Mīrzā Ḥasan mobilized students, mullahs, and religious employees. A British Foreign Office report indicated that “a large portion” of the clergy sympathized with conservatives on minority issues. Lūṭīs and pahlavāns linked to guilds and religious institutions were active in Tabriz disturbances and the Artillery Square gathering. The urban poor -dyers, carpet weavers, bricklayers, peddlers, porters, laborers- were easily drawn to this counter-movement due to poverty, unrest, and distrust. Kasravi wrote that Fazlollah’s secession was a severe blow because he was “respected by the people.” Malikzādih admitted his provocations affected the “common people.” Amīrkhīzī confirmed bazaar commoners followed Fazlollah. Low-income guilds felt, as early as the sanctuary-taking at the British Embassy, that they would gain nothing from the Revolution. Field gatherings included a mix of the poor, clergy and students, lūṭīs, courtiers, and palace-dependent workers (Abrahamian, 1969: 138–144). 

Even in the National Bank project, public distrust was evident: Sa’d al-Dawlah complained in Parliament that people who days before had “sacrificed life and property” for the bank, now not even ten had taken steps to buy shares, warning this inaction would “cause insult” to Parliament in the eyes of the world (Session 6, 1 December 1906). The evidence reveals that popular disaffection was neither abrupt nor reducible to a single event, but unfolded through cumulative political missteps, economic hardship, heightened insecurity, and religio-ideological competition. Contrary to the narrative blaming “mass ignorance,” this distancing was a rational response rooted in lived experience. A revolution that was supposed to bring the “rule of law” became, in many eyes, a source of instability and a lived experience of betrayal, exclusion, and inefficiency, which ultimately eroded its social base.

Causal Mechanisms of Exclusion  

The transformation of “the people” from an inclusive mobilizing category into a more restricted political constituency did not occur through a single process. Rather, it resulted from the interaction of several mechanisms, each of which contributed to the gradual erosion of the revolutionary coalition.  

1. Class Interest and Fear of Anarchy (Chatterjee’s Political Society): The propertied leadership -merchants, landowners, and intellectuals- prioritized protecting guild privileges and private property over addressing the urban poor’s demands for bread subsidies or wage guarantees. As Chatterjee (2004, 2020) argues, subaltern groups in political society are mobilized for disruption but governed through exception; here, the fear of “anarchy” justified suppression. The Gilan peasant uprisings of 1906 exemplify this: villagers, interpreting constitutionalism as land redistribution, seized estates, only to be crushed by Tehran deputies who viewed them as threats to order (Afary, 1996: ch. 6). This mechanism demobilized rural and poor urban elements, fracturing the chain of equivalence Laclau (2005) describes as essential to populism.  

2. Clerical–Secular Competition for Hegemony (Laclau’s Empty Signifier): Conservative clerics like Shaykh Fażl-Allāh Nūrī contested the signifier “mellat” by filling it with Islamic content, defining “the people” as true Muslims against secular “Western imitations.” He actively accused Muslim revolutionaries of being Bābī Azalī, or Bahā’ī, and of holding anti-Islamic sentiments. Secular leaders, who needed clerical legitimacy in their struggle against the court, ultimately acquiesced to the clerics’ demand to deny parliamentary representation to religious minorities. This hegemonic struggle (Laclau, 2005) thus produced exclusion as a bargaining chip: Nūrī’s fatwas against non-Muslims gained traction among the poor, effectively splitting the revolutionary coalition along sectarian lines.

3. Legal-Institutional Fixing (Rancière’s Police Logic): The Electoral Law of 1906 and Supplementary Fundamental Laws of 1907 legally codified exclusion, restricting suffrage to propertied males and assigning minorities token seats. As Rancière (1999) posits, this was police work: re-partitioning the sensible to count only the “countable” (propertied Shiʿi men), disqualifying the “part of no part.” Archival evidence from parliament debates shows delegates explicitly debating -and rejecting-women’s and illiterates’ inclusion to prevent chaos.  

4. Performative Contempt and Demobilization (Integrated Framework): Post-victory discourses shifted from adulation to derision, with leaflets and speeches labelling the masses “ignorant parasites” or “less than animals.” This performative disqualification justified demobilization, turning former allies into counter-revolutionary recruits via bribes and fatwas. Economic data corroborates bread price hikes from 1907–1908 correlated with poor neighborhood defections.  

These mechanisms were intertwined, sometimes deliberate, sometimes reactive. The result is a populist revolution that imploded from within, unable to summon “the people” in 1908. These mechanisms and concepts operationalize the analysis as a populist rupture followed by exclusionary consolidation. In this sense, exclusion was not merely a by-product of the revolution; it became part of its trajectory (see Table 2).  

Table 2 – Theorising the Changing Meaning of “the People”

Phase Dominant Signifier Included Groups Excluded Groups Mechanism (Laclau/Rancière/Chatterjee)
Pre-1905 raʿiyat (peasant) None Everyone Traditional police order
Mobilisation 1905–06 mardom (people) All urban classes + some tribes Populist rupture (empty signifier)
Consolidation 1907–08 mellat (nation) Propertied male Shiʿi citizens Women, urban poor, non-Shiʿi, rural Filling signifier + re-policing (part of no part)
Collapse 1908-09 ʿavām /ʿubāsh (riff-raff/vagrants) Only loyal subjects Former revolutionaries Managed political society

A clear example of the exclusionary mechanism can be observed in the relationship between discourse, institutional design, and social response. First, revolutionary discourse initially mobilized a broad and undifferentiated notion of “the people,” encompassing diverse urban groups. Second, the Electoral Law and parliamentary practices restricted political participation to propertied male groups, formally excluding large segments of the population. Third, these exclusions coincided with increasing elite dissatisfaction with mass participation, reflected in discourses portraying the lower classes as disorderly or politically immature. Finally, this combination of institutional exclusion and discursive delegitimation contributed to the withdrawal -or reversal- of popular support, particularly among the urban poor, thereby weakening the Revolution’s capacity to resist the 1908 coup. This sequence illustrates how exclusion operated not as an isolated decision but as a cumulative process linking discourse, institutions, and political outcomes.

Comparative Perspective 

The pattern observed in the Iranian case -broad mobilization followed by more selective forms of political inclusion- finds parallels in other historical contexts. In several major revolutions, expansive coalitions formed around shared opposition to existing regimes, only to fragment once the question of institutional consolidation arose.

In the French Revolution (1789–1791), the Third Estate’s empty signifier “the nation” united sans-culottes and bourgeoisie against absolutism, but post-Bastille, suffrage was restricted to propertied males, alienating the urban poor and leading to Thermidorian reaction (Soboul, 1974). Similarly, the Young Turk Revolution (1908) mobilized diverse Ottoman subjects under “liberty and equality,” yet ethnic Turks quickly filled the signifier with Turkic-Muslim content, marginalizing Armenians and Arabs and fracturing the coalition against the Sultan (Zürcher, 2010). More recently, Egypt’s 2011 uprising invoked “the people” to topple Mubarak, but the Supreme Council of Armed Forces and Muslim Brotherhood’s power-sharing excluded labor unions and Copts, paving the way for Sisi’s counter-revolution (El-Mahdi, 2011).  

Comparative examples suggest that this trajectory is not unique. In different settings, the category of “the people” has often functioned as a unifying but indeterminate concept during periods of mobilization. Its strength lies precisely in its flexibility, allowing diverse groups to align temporarily. However, this same flexibility can become a source of tension when more precise definitions are required.

What distinguishes the Iranian case is not the existence of such dynamics, but their particular configuration. The relatively rapid institutionalization of exclusion, combined with the interaction of religious, social, and regional factors, shaped a specific way of coalition breakdown. The role of clerical authority, the structure of urban society, and the balance between central and provincial actors all contributed to this outcome.

Rather than treating the Constitutional Revolution as an isolated case, this perspective situates it within a broader pattern of revolutionary politics. It highlights a recurring tension between the inclusive language of mobilization and the more limited realities of political consolidation. Understanding how this tension is managed -or fails to be managed- offers insight not only into the Iranian experience but into the dynamics of revolutionary change more generally.  

Conclusion

The Constitutional Revolution did not collapse simply because of external intervention, ideological radicalization, or the limitations of social development -although all of these factors played a role. What ultimately proved decisive was a more gradual and internally driven process: the weakening of the broad social coalition that had made the revolution possible, and the inability to stabilize an inclusive and durable understanding of “the people” within the new political order.

The evidence suggests, through systematic analysis of primary sources, that the revolutionary leadership actively narrowed the meaning of “the people” after victory in order to protect class, gender, religious, and ethno-national privileges, thereby destroying the only force capable of defending the parliament in 1908 and 1911.

Early intellectuals had sought to elevate the raʿiyat from powerless subject to political agent, yet this conceptual leap never translated into durable practice. The parties that emerged in the Second parliament -whether moderate or democrat- proved incapable of forging lasting ties with a largely illiterate society. Their political vocabulary remained alien, their rhetoric opaque, and their programs offered no tangible place for the subaltern majority.  

In reality on the ground, the active forces of the revolution, contrary to the exaggerated “thuggish” image some writers portrayed, were mainly composed of the urban middle class, merchants, tradesmen, artisans, and various social, religious, and ethnic groups. It was the middle class and the poor who ignited the engine of the revolution, but subsequently, the rift between intellectuals carrying Western ideas, clerics with religious concerns, and merchants with demands for economic security, eroded the initial cohesion. 

The confrontation between the Democrats and the Moderates is a prime example of this cleavage, where traditional bazaar forces were able to marginalize the radical discourse of the intellectuals and reclaim the political trajectory. The result was that even historians like Kasravi and Nazem-al-Islam Kermani, who deemed the revolution a product of intellectual awakening, ultimately attributed its failure to the “ignorance” of the masses -an analysis that this study rejects as ideologically convenient elite self-absolution.  

Moreover, no fundamental restructuring of class relations occurred. The old elites -monarchy, clergy, landowners, tribal khans- donned constitutional garb yet retained effective power. “Political brokers” whose sole concern was personal advantage neutralized attempts at genuine democratic institution-building (Kāveh, No. 1: 2). The Constitutional Revolution thus amounted to a limited rotation of elites rather than a social revolution. 

This structural incapacity was accompanied by a kind of theoretical ambiguity regarding the “people” -a concept that carried heavy normative weight in the constitutionalists’ discourse but lacked precise definition and political clarity in practice. It was unclear which groups the “people” included: women? religious minorities? villagers? the lower classes? ethnic groups? The result of this ambiguity was the political misuse of the term. Before the revolution’s victory, all these groups were called upon for general mobilization; however, immediately after the establishment of the parliament, the first political act -the electoral law- was to exclude these very segments from the right to participate. 

The exclusion of women, the lower classes, minorities, smaller cities, and the law restricting associations amounted, effectively, to throwing a large portion of society off the revolutionary train. The forces that were the mainstays of resistance, protest, and mobilization for the revolution, not only remained unrewarded after the victory but were cast out of the political structure and gradually joined the opposition. This process, coupled with the intensification of the economic crisis, caused a segment of the urban poor -who were the initial driving force of the revolution- to gravitate toward counter-revolutionary forces. This shift was not a sign of instability or ignorance; it was a sign of disillusionment with unfulfilled promises and a political structure that had no place for them. 

The failure of the revolution was determined not from the outside but from within: the elimination of pluralism, the inability to hold together the multi-class coalition, and the absence of a clear, inclusive definition of political belonging. By showing that exclusion was deliberate, systematic, and causally linked to collapse, I offer a new internalist explanation that challenges both nationalist hagiography and external-determinist accounts. 

Combining Laclau’s empty signifier, Rancière’s police logic, and Chatterjee’s political society, has demonstrated that exclusion was not an unfortunate by-product but the central mechanism that transformed a broad populist rupture into a narrow civil-society regime incapable of defending itself. This failure did, however, leave a legacy of new political consciousness -a legacy that reappeared in the movement for the nationalization of oil and subsequently in the 1979 Revolution. 

Yet, the Constitutional Revolution experience still holds a clear historical warning, not only for Iran but internationally: no movement or revolution can survive without preserving social pluralism, without rigorously defining its constituency, and without genuinely sharing power among those who made victory possible. Triumph achieved through mass mobilization yet consolidated through exclusion is doomed to internal collapse. The lesson is universal: any revolution that mobilizes “the people” as an empty signifier yet consolidates power by filling that signifier with particular content is doomed to internal collapse. 

The contribution of this article has been to highlight the central role of processes of inclusion and exclusion in shaping the revolution’s trajectory. By tracing how the meaning of “the people” shifted over time, and how these shifts were linked to institutional and political developments, it offers an internal perspective on revolutionary failure that complements existing explanations.

More broadly, the analysis suggests that the durability of revolutionary change depends not only on the capacity to mobilize, but also on the ability to sustain inclusive forms of political belonging. Where the gap between the language of mobilization and the structure of governance becomes too wide, the foundations of the revolutionary project may gradually erode. The experience of the Constitutional Revolution illustrates this dynamic with clarity, offering insights that extend beyond its immediate historical context.


 

(*) Dr. Ali Ragheb has a Ph.D. in Cultural Sociology, Department of Sociology, Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Tehran, Iran, ali.ragheb@ut.ac.ir, ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4213-2960)


 

References  

Abrahamian, E. (1969). The crowd in the Persian revolution. Iranian Studies, 2(4), 128–150. https://doi.org/10.1080/00210866908701385

Abrahamian, E. (1979). The causes of the Constitutional Revolution in Iran. International Journal of Middle East Studies, 10(3), 381–414. http://www.jstor.org/stable/162146

Afary, J. (1996). The Iranian Constitutional Revolution, 1906–1911. Columbia University Press.

Afshar, I. (1980). Oraq-e tazeyab-e mashrutiyat va naqsh-e Taqizadeh (Newly found documents on the Constitutional Revolution and the role of Taqizadeh). Tehran: Javidan.

Ashraf, A., & Banuazizi, A. (1992). Classes in the Qajar period. Encyclopaedia Iranica, 5, 667–672. 

Bayat-Phillip, Mangol (1978). Women and Revolution in Iran, 1905-1911. in Women in the Muslim World, ed. Lois Beck and Nikkie Keddie. Harvard University Press.

Browne, E. G. (1910). The Persian Revolution of 1905–1909. Cambridge University Press.

Chatterjee, P. (2004). The politics of the governed: Reflections on popular politics in most of the world. Columbia University Press.  

Chatterjee, P. (2020). I am the people: Reflections on popular sovereignty today. Columbia University Press. https://doi.org/10.7312/chat19548

Cronin, S. (2010). The Constitutional Revolution, popular politics, and state-building in Iran. In H. Chehabi & V. Martin (Eds.), Iran’s constitutional revolution (pp. 15–32). I. B. Tauris.

Cronin, S. (2018). Bread and justice in Qajar Iran: the moral economy, the free market and the hungry poor. Middle Eastern Studies54(6), 843–877. https://www.jstor.org/stable/48543815

De Groot, J. (2010). Whose revolution? In H. Chehabi & V. Martin (Eds.), Iran’s constitutional revolution (pp. 15–32). I. B. Tauris.

Didi-Huberman, G. (2016). To render sensible. In B. Bosteels & K. Olson (Eds.), What is people? Columbia University Press.

Dowlatabadi, Y. (1983). Hayat-e Yahya (The life of Yahya) (Vols. 1–4). Tehran: Ferdowsi.

El-Mahdi, R. (2011). Labour protests in Egypt: causes and meanings. Review of African Political Economy38(129), 387–402. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23055362

Foran, J. (1991). The strengths and weaknesses of Iran’s populist alliance. Theory and Society, 20(6), 795–823. http://www.jstor.org/stable/657604

Foran, J. (1993). Fragile resistance: Social transformation in Iran from 1500 to the revolution. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780429041433

Hosseini, S. A. G. (1991). Divan-e Nasim-e Shomal (Collected poems of Nasim-e Shomal). Tehran: Hosseini Press.

Iraj Mirza (1993). Tahqiq dar ahval o afkar… (Research on the life and works of Iraj Mirza) (M. J. Mahjub, Ed.). Tehran: Roshdiyeh.

Jamshidian, S. (2016). Ruzshomar-e mohasere-ye Tabriz va e’ade-ye mashruteh (Chronology of the siege of Tabriz and the restoration of the Constitution). Tehran: Safir Ardehal.

Jazani, B. (2009). Enqelab-e mashrutiyat-e Iran; niruhā va hadafhā (The Constitutional Revolution of Iran: Forces and goals). Paris: Organization of Iranian Fadaiyan.

Kermani, A. M. (2017). Tarikh-e enhetat-e majles (History of the decline of the parliament). Tehran: Ashiyan.

Kasravi, A. (1975). Tarikh-e mashrute-ye Iran (History of the Persian Constitution). Tehran: Amir Kabir.

Keddie, N. (1980). Iran: Religion, politics and society. Frank Cass.

Khalili, M. (2022). Mashruteh yani chelokabab arzan! (Constitution means cheap chelow-kabab!). In A. Masoudi & M. Nouri (Eds.), Goftarhayi darbāre-ye mashruteh-ye Irani. Tehran: Hezareh-ye Sevom.

Kharabi, F. (2020). Anjomanha-ye asr-e mashruteh (Associations of the Constitutional Era). Tehran: Negarestan-e Andisheh.

Laclau, E. (2005). On populist reason. Verso.

Malekzadeh, M. (1984). Tarikh-e enqelab-e mashrutiyat-e Iran (History of the Constitutional Movement in Iran). Tehran: Elmi.

Mu‘izzī, F. (1999). Shabnameha va elamiyehha-ye mashruteh (leaflets and proclamations of the Constitutional Revolution). Iranian Contemporary History Quarterly, 10, 275–304.

Momeni, B. (1966). Iran dar astaneh-ye enqelab-e mashruteh (Iran on the eve of the Constitutional Revolution). Tehran:  Amir Kabir.

Mardūkh Kurdistānī, M. (2000). Tarikh-e Mardūkh (History of Mardūkh). Tehran: Karang.

Motahhari, M. (1999). Yaddasht-hā-ye Ostād Motahhari (Notes of Motahhari). Tehran: Sadra.

Najmabadi, A. (1998). The story of the daughters of Quchan. Syracuse University Press.

Najmabadi, A. (2005). Women with mustaches and men without beards. University of California Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/j.ctt1ppqcv

Nazem-al-Islam Kermani, M. (1978). Tarikh-e bidari-ye Iranian (History of the awakening of Iranians). Tehran: Bonyad-e Farhang-e Iran & Agah.

Purhossein Khoniq, E. (2020). Mashruteh be bayān-e tasvir (Photographs of the constitutional revolution). Akhtar.

Rancière, J. (1999). Disagreement: Politics and philosophy. University of Minnesota Press.  

Rancière, J. (2016). The populism that is not to be found. In B. Bosteels & K. Olson (Eds.), What is people? Columbia University Press.

Rockhill, G. (2014). Radical history and the politics of art. Columbia University Press.

Rostami, F., & Hadidi, M. (2006). Vaqāye‘negār-e tārikh-e mashruteh (Chronicle of the history of the Constitutional Revolution). Institute for Iranian Contemporary Historical Studies.

Rudé, G. (1964). The Crowd in History. A Study of Popular Disturbances in France and England, 1730–1848. Wiley & Sons.

Sharif Kashani, M. M. (1983). Vaqaye‘āt-e ettefaqieh dar ruzgar (Events that occurred in those days). Tehran: Nashr-e Tarikh-e Iran.

Shāhrukh, K. (2002). Khaterat-e Arbab Keykhosrow Shahrokh (Memoirs of Arbab Keykhosrow Shahrokh). Tehran: Maziar.

Soboul, Albert. (1974). The French Revolution, 1787-1799: from the storming of the Bastille to Napoleon. London: NLB.

Tabatabaei, M. H. (2011). Mashruteh dar tasvir (The Constitutional Revolution in images). Tehran: Nashr-e Abi.

Taḥvīldār, A. (2009). Joghrafiyā-ye Esfahān: Joghrafiyā-ye tabii va ensāni va āmār-e asnāf-e shahr (Geography of Isfahan: Physical and human geography and urban guild statistics). Tehran: Akhtaran.

Zürcher, E. J. (2010). The Young Turk legacy and nation building: From the Ottoman Empire to Atatürk’s Turkey. I. B. Tauris. https://doi.org/10.5040/9780755622082

Newspapers

Al-Jamal Newspaper (1905–1906). Tehran.

Kāveh Newspaper (1916–1922). Berlin.

Musāwāt Newspaper (1906–1908). Tehran.

Rūḥ al-Qudus Newspaper (1907–1908). Tehran.

Ṣūr-i Isrāfīl Newspaper (1907–1909). Tehran

Tabriz Association Newspaper (1905–1908). Tabriz.

Chile President José Antonio Kast.

The OutKast: Can José Antonio Kast Lead Chile Into 2030 – And Thereby Revive Transatlanticism?

DOWNLOAD ARTICLE

Please cite as:
Zlosilo, Miguel & Benedikter, Roland. (2026). “The OutKast: Can José Antonio Kast Lead Chile into 2030 – And Thereby Revive Transatlanticism?” Populism & Politics (P&P). European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). May 19, 2026. https://doi.org/10.55271/pp0053

 

Abstract

José Antonio Kast’s 2026–30 presidency in Chile, which began in March 2026, is destined to mark a sensitive political transition phase that will lead the nation to 2030 and set the country’s conditions for the post-2030 agenda. The start of the presidency has been characterized by moderate public expectations, favorable economic conditions, and a fragmented legislature, offering Chilean democracy the potential for pragmatic governance and a revitalized transatlantic relationship with Europe, i.e. for a coming of age of democracy after decades of adolescence since the 1990s. The risks for this phase stem from Kast’s clear populist and right-wing reputation, ideological and geopolitical pressures from Trump’s “Shield of the Americas,” internal coalition tensions, fiscal austerity challenges, and US-China rivalry as a source of lasting global instability. Kast’s success in this phase of Chilean democracy hinges on his ability to balance these factors with the surrounding re-globalization process while choosing a decisively post-populist course by steering Chile toward the political center, i.e. toward sustainable development, systemic futures competency, and strengthened international cooperation with Europe and UNESCO. This means that while, geopolitically, cooperation with the MAGA-US will be unavoidable during Trump’s term, with regard to social and societal futures Kast should move in a more pro-European and UNESCO-oriented direction in his own interest. Reviving the political center through Transatlanticism and educational, scientific, and cultural ties is not an option, but a necessity in the current international environment. It is a basic prerequisite for Kast to overcome his populist and right-wing perception internationally and domestically in order to stabilize his standing. Implementing post-populism not in one, but in multiple social, economic, and political facets of society through a pragmatic and down-to-earth step-by-step policy will be decisive for Kast in achieving a successful presidency. In this sense, this article offers some condensed advice for Kast’s administration.

Keywords: Populism in Latin America, Chile, Presidents of Chile, Right-Wing Politics, Transition toward Post-Populism, Politics of Reputation, Imaginal Politics, Latin America Foreign Relations, Transatlantic Relations, UNESCO System, Re-Globalization, Anticipatory Innovation Governance, José Antonio Kast.

By Miguel Zlosilo* & Roland Benedikter**

Introduction

Transatlanticism, which since the Obama era of 2009–2017 had slumped into a minor role, has experienced a partial yet remarkable resurgence in international relations since the start of the 2020s. This is due first to the increasing competition for Latin American markets and resources among the rival powers of China (Ellis, 2025), the US, Europe, and Russia (Berg et al., 2025) (the latter especially since the Ukraine war began in February 2022 and as a substitute for international sanctions). The revival of Transatlanticism as a serious political option (Aliende & Romero-Tarin, 2026) also has to do with Donald Trump’s sudden and rather unilateral launch of the “Shield of the Americas” in February 2026 (US Department of State, 2026), which has intensified the neo-colonial debate attributed to the MAGA administration and the “Trump corollary” outside the US, and has brought many estranged Latin American nations indirectly and directly closer to Europe. The return of Transatlanticism also involves the eventual signing of the MERCOSUR free trade agreement on January 17, 2026, after decades of negotiations, thereby impacting views on society in Latin America and triggering the request currently brought forward throughout the continent for a more comprehensive societal development concept aimed at being less ideological and more pragmatic than in the past (Levin, 2026).

The question, in the view of many Latin American citizens nowadays, is this: Should a Latin America that is seeking its own viability amid Trump’s expansionist MAGA frenzy become more China-like or more Europe-like over the coming decades, particularly when it comes to improving participatory civil involvement, the need for intelligent sustainability, the broadest possible social application of new technologies, and the equality-based enhancement of health provision and social cohesion? And should it isolate itself or strengthen its ties with international educational, scientific, and cultural trends and developments, as represented, in its global “medium” form, by the United Nations’ specialized unit UNESCO, which has traditionally been strongly present in the Andean nation?

These questions are increasingly shaping the future not only of Chile, but of the continent; and some governments branded as conservative to populist may now consider orienting themselves toward a surprisingly moderate pragmatism of neo-Transatlantic traits if they try to see the bigger picture. In turn, an increasing number of Latin American decision-makers “from below” seem to be willing to be less oriented toward class struggle than their predecessors and instead undertake a more sober, practical, and problem-solving cooperation strategy in the interest of their societies. The prerequisite for such a newly ratio-oriented policy is that all sides move toward the political center, instead of fighting at the wings, by relying on best social practices and by actively embracing educational, scientific, and cultural strategies which are a balancing factor per se.

José Antonio Kast’s Presidency

Chile’s administration under President José Antonio Kast, who began his term in March 2026, could be one of those Latin American governments clinging to a new pragmatism and, to this end, considering a shift from populism toward significantly more moderate and balanced strategies (Villegas & Cambero, 2026). Due to both domestic and international framework pressures, Kast’s presidency, over its four years from March 11, 2026 until March 10, 2030, could mark a revival of Transatlantic and UN relations in order to stabilize itself by de facto gradually shifting toward pragmatic centrist policies. The main reason is that Kast’s time in office will be judged less in terms of ideology or grand visions, which in the past have proven to be mostly illusory for the population, and more in terms of political decision-making aimed at affecting daily life. Based on the existing strategic conditions, a stronger Transatlantic inclination during his tenure could be a successful strategy, since renewed ties with Europe and its current leadership present many options for Kast to reach a post-populist stage not to be found anywhere else.

To understand the role, conditions, and outlook of Kast’s presidency, it makes sense, first, to compare it with Sebastián Piñera’s second government from 2018 to 2022, whose conservative administration preceded his. Second, the president’s starting environment in 2026 reveals the momentum Kast could have to further evolve due to moderated expectations, positive economic trends, and a fragmented legislature. At the same time, there are risks, such as the continuation of his populist-rightist reputation and dubious friendships, internal coalition tensions, and practical governance challenges. Third, and perhaps most importantly, Chile’s social and economic conditions during Kast’s presidency are what, in the eyes of many among his voters, should favor an exemplary new relationship with Europe. This is because the EU presents the best offer to satisfy Chile’s popular demand for concrete day-to-day improvements with regard to civic policies, sustainability, and fair, equal, and just regulation. In essence, it will be the implementation of European experiences and strengths in “mature democracy,” or the failure to do so, that will co-determine the fate of Kast. This could, in the ideal case, trigger a new, less ideological and strictly pragmatic win-win cooperation through a new Transatlantic bridge to which the Kast presidency should actively contribute to its own interest.

Be that as it may, during Kast’s era and until the start of the 2030s, Chile could become a pathmaker and perhaps even an innovative laboratory for a new Latin America-Europe pact on social, economic, and political matters, closely observed by its Latin American neighbors and partners. It could thus create the conditions for an original, balanced, and more moderate Latin American conservatism based on broader consensus and greater long-term stability.

The Conditions Surrounding Kast’s Term of Office

The political and strategic conditions surrounding the beginning of the José Antonio Kast administration in Santiago in March 2026 presented an ambiguous picture full of potentials and risks, which to some extent remain exemplary of the global reorientation in which most of Latin America’s ANA (actively non-aligned) nations are embedded in the second half of the 2020s. Kast has been regarded as a pronounced populist, or at least a “strong” conservative, a self-positioning that plays into the notorious pendulum politics of Latin America, which have to some extent been part of its “adolescent democracy” for decades, creating a constant undermining factor for stable and evolving domestic and international relations (Heine, 2025). 

“Adolescent democracy” consists of the recurring, cyclical replacement of “strong” leftist governments by “strong” rightist governments, and vice versa, both constantly tempted by populist simplification for voter gains and tending to nullify the programs and achievements of their predecessors due to strict ideological considerations, thereby leading public policy toward paralysis, stagnation, and constant public dissatisfaction. This has all too often led Latin American nations into unwanted, contraction-ridden patterns, and it has forced parties on both the left and the right too often to assume “strong” or even extremist positions and rhetoric. The question is whether this can change and, if so, whether a more balanced and continuous path can emerge through the introduction of learning steps based on the comparison of Transatlantic best practices.

The answers to these questions depend on a spectrum of variables, which can be exemplarily demonstrated by analysing the case of contemporary Chile, whose governmental evolution in the 21st century we have covered for more than a decade, both in its structural proximity to and distance from international organizations, such as UNESCO, and from Europe (Benedikter & Siepmann, 2015). To assess the chances of success of the era of Chile’s president José Antonio Kast (2026–2030), a comparative framework with the second government of Sebastián Piñera (2018–2022) is suggested. Through the lens of the two artificially created, opposed buzzwords, 1) “humble momentum” (Kast) versus 2) “the illusion of oasis” (Piñera), we examine how the moderation of public expectations, a favorable economic cycle, and a fragmented legislative branch have created a unique window of opportunity for the president-elect. This could open up a new historical cycle for reviving Transatlantic relations, yet it is a window that will not remain open indefinitely.

We argue that, unlike previous right-wing mandates, Kast’s options for political viability are bolstered by a weakened opposition and a general societal aversion to social unrest following Chile’s 2019 crisis (Toni et al., 2026). The demand for better participation, citizen involvement, social equality, and normative justice makes closer ties with Europe, and thus a new Transatlanticism, attractive, as they make a self-moderation of populism, its retreat into more centrist positions, and a rhetoric of reconciliation unavoidable for stable government and citizen acceptance.

However, our analysis also identifies significant internal structural risks, including Kast’s reputation as a “strong” populist rightist, which de facto distances him from large parts of the public, who, like in any democracy, at the end of the day cling to the center because of their desire for calm, stability, and continuity as the basic conditions for thriving. Further elements of risk to consider for Kast are internal tensions within the governing coalition, potential governance challenges arising from fiscal austerity measures, and the fragility of “borrowed” electoral trust, given that large parts of his voters chose him mainly because of the lack of an alternative.

Our reflection concludes by questioning whether Kast’s administration can effectively discipline its inner circle, gradually distance itself from populism, and integrate the perceptions of moderate sectors of society to ensure long-term stability leading into the 2030s, and to what extent the intensification of Transatlantic connectivity, with special regard to social integration and futures competency, may be a factor in his success or failure. Our following analysis is articulated across two fundamental dimensions, the domestic and the foreign policy trajectory, each of which comprises sub-dimensions that act either as catalysts for or impediments to the administration’s strategic success.

The First Dimension: Domestic Key Drivers and Structural Constraints

Santiago
Skyline of Santiago de Chile at sunset, photographed from Cerro San Cristóbal. Photo: Sara Winter / Dreamstime.

Within the domestic sphere, the favorable sub-dimensions include the strong leadership figure of Kast, the positive macroeconomic trajectory, parliamentary consent, the cohesion of the governing party, the fragmentation of the opposition, and low citizen expectations. Conversely, the primary challenges are:

– The temptation of “fast money,” or presenting immediate success, by falling back in traditional patterns.

– Mal de Altura, or “Altitude Sickness” – the risk of institutional hubris and detachment of Kast’s team from political reality.

– The “internal enemy” – the danger of fracturing within the governing coalition.

– Fiscal tightness – the narrow margin for maneuver in public spending.

– Sustainability versus resilience: the volatile capacity to integrate structural reforms to prevent systemic shocks with a normative long-term program of systemic change.

Humble Momentum or A Calculated Reset

Before his victory, many regarded Chile’s new President José Antonio Kast as “the OutKast Candidate.” During the 2025 election campaign, substantial parts of the population said they could never vote for him (Molina, 2021) due to Kast’s “strong” and often populist rightist stance on an array of public matters and his much-disputed mediatic and personal proximity to right-wing leaders in Latin America (Navia, 2026). Since his election in November 2025, Kast has immediately started doing everything to change this perception in his favor.

The signal term “momentum” has been widely used in Chilean media to refer to the specific set of conditions that, together with his change of course regarding his affiliations, ideological fervor, and ability to compromise, could facilitate a successful mandate. Conversely, the buzzword “oasis illusion” has been used effectively in the Chilean public debate to allude to the possibility that these favorable conditions are merely a mirage, echoing the late President Sebastián Piñera’s famous assertion that Chile was an “oasis of progress” in Latin America, a statement that vanished immediately with the social unrest of October 18, 2019 and, by turning into its opposite, badly damaged Piñera by making him an easy-to-target laughing stock, and with him Chile, for the rest of his term (Cooperativo, 2019).

Candidate Kast: Scaling Back Promises and Lowering Expectations 

While a biographical analysis of Kast is beyond the scope of this article, it is essential to acknowledge the initial governing conditions of the president-elect versus those of the preceding right-wing administration in Chile. The implementation of Kast’s strategic campaign during the presidential runoff pointed to the design of a moderate strategy that aimed at lowering expectations and was reflected in his straightforward, modest, and consciously humble victory speech (Guzmán, 2025). The challenge for Kast lies in the disciplined execution of this reserved and downplaying attitude in practice. Restraining his verbal and behavioral impulses will be a critical variable throughout his presidency, something that was not always sufficiently considered, as the case of Sebastián Piñera (1949–2024) showed.

Indeed, high expectations were placed on Piñera, president of Chile from 2010 to 2014 and for a second time from 2018 to 2022, due to his perceived intellectual and managerial capacities. However, his slogan-promise of tiempos mejores(“Better Times”) created a burden of expectations that ultimately hindered his administration to succeed (DF, 2010). Furthermore, an adverse international economic cycle and deep-seated public issues of uncertainty and insecurity—which were unlikely to be resolved through the superficial measures typical of his mandate characterized by big but unrealistic visions—eroded his credibility as an economic engine and political reformer not only one time, but twice.

In contrast, intellectual expectations regarding José Antonio Kast are more modest, and his executive capacity remains untested (Gómez, 2025). Consequently, his public focus on a streamlined “emergency government” targeted at specific issues rather than a broad spectrum of national problems appears strategically sound. His focus on practically restoring security and economic growth step by step and without grand narratives places him in a favorable position compared to Piñera, as the threshold for success is lower.

Chile’s Economy: Upward Trends and Positive External Factors

The economic cycle supports the hypothesis of a favorable momentum. Chile’s Central Bank projects growth of up to 3% for Kast’s first year (Troncoso R., 2025), and the financial and trade tailwinds typically generated by right-wing administrations in public psychology could allow the government to exceed these targets without the need for structural reforms, thereby claiming economic success to carry on. Unlike Piñera, Kast’s lack of private business ties reduces political friction within certain sectors of the nation’s business elite, potentially also fostering bigger private investment (Emol, 2024).

Furthermore, favorable copper prices, improved terms of regional trade, and the finalization of the Codelco-SQM agreement – alongside other public-private partnerships initially rejected by Kast’s advisors but initiated by the current administration – may provide leverage for his economic management (Nogales, 2025). Paradoxically, with all this just as Piñera’s actions paved the way for Boric, the Boric administration 2022-2026 has been establishing socio-economic conditions that may benefit Kast.

In addition, the positive momentum that characterizes the onset of the José Antonio Kast administration consists in the fact that Chile presents a scenario of monetary stabilization unprecedented in the last five years. At the end of 2025, inflation reached its lowest level in half a decade, dropping below the 3% threshold for the first time since 2021. This phenomenon positions Chile as a regional benchmark for price control within Latin America, validating the Central Bank’s projections that anticipated a consolidated convergence toward the 3% target during the first half of 2026 and beyond (Vega & Alonso, 2026). This environment of low inflationary pressure acts as a catalyst for Kast’s “emergency government,” allowing for an initial margin of maneuver that favors private investment and reduces doubts in domestic consumption.

However, from the prism of economic realism this “oasis” of apparent internal stability faces a threat from exogenous factors derived from the geopolitical volatility in the Middle East which is probably not going to end soon. The outbreak of military conflict in Iran and the resulting instability in the Strait of Hormuz emerge as primary systemic risks that could dismantle the new administration’s fiscal planning well beyond its end (Laborde, 2026). The rise in international oil prices not only pressures Chile’s logistical cost structure but also acts as an “imported tax” that could rapidly erode the inflationary gains achieved in 2025. For Kast’s economic team led by Jorge Quiroz, the ability to contain this spiral of external costs without compromising the US$6 billion fiscal austerity pillar gained by the government’s replenishment into its sovereign wealth funds destined to strengthen its fiscal buffers will define whether the economic cycle of Kast’s starting phase will result as a sustainable impulse or merely a transitory reprieve in the face of a more difficult global supply system, ridden by the uncertainties of re-globalization (Benedikter, 2021) and its “levelling out” of structured differences in favor of a more complex and chaotic multipolarity (O’Sullivan, 2019).

Chile’s Political Perspective: Congressional Fragmentation and Project Alignment

People gather in front of La Moneda Palace in Santiago, Chile. Originally opened in 1805 as a colonial mint, the building later became the presidential palace. Photo: Dreamstime.

With regard to Chile’s internal political balance of power between the camps President Kast faces a fragmented Congress without a clear majority in either the Senate or the Chamber of Deputies (Ex-Ante, 2025). The lower house exhibits atomization combined with individualized “caudillismo,” which erodes party discipline and heightens tensions within coalitions.

Against this backdrop generally favorable for “strong government,” if Kast’s administration achieves economic growth and reduces crime it will likely align legislators around its basic projects stably until the next elections. However, there is no institutional mandate for this government to pass major reforms rapidly. Unlike the second Bachelet administration 2014-2018 (Emol, 2013), where a clear and unified parliamentary majority created high expectations for structural change, Kast faces no such pressure because of internal political “individualization” (Benedikter & Zlosilo, 2017). His “grounded” impulse for step-by-step reform and development responds to this situation and is, as a consequence, closely tied to his personal profile, which helps to diminish general expectations regarding his government even among parlamentarians.

At the same time, Kast’s administration commences its mandate with a significant institutional advantage, having secured the presidencies of both the Chamber of Deputies and the Senate. This achievement was a result of exceptionally narrow voting margins, particularly in the lower house, where the government coalition managed a last-minute victory over the leftist candidate. The strategic control of the legislative leadership provides the executive with a critical starting advantage, potentially mitigating the risks of parliamentary obstructionism and allowing for a more streamlined management of the “emergency government” legislative agenda. The more important it will be for Kast to try to maintain this advantage throughout his full four-year charge.

Seen from the lens of institutional realism, the election of Paulina Núñez (RN) as President of the Senate and Jorge Alessandri (UDI) as President of the Chamber of Deputies represents a strategic consolidation of parliamentary power for the governing coalition (Olguín, 2026). These victories, secured through cross-party negotiations that displaced opposition candidates, grant Kast’s executive unprecedented control over the political processes in both chambers. This mitigates the risk of repeating the usual Chilean parliamentary dispersion of energies, if the situation is wisely administrated over time.

The Governing Republican Party: The Advantage of Inexperience?

A notable difference from Piñera’s second term is that Kast’s power stems not from the old avant-gardes, but from newly formed parties. This reduces the immediate pressure to display a pre-established, highly qualified bureaucratic corps. While Piñera’s “Government of the Best” slogan created counterproductive expectations, Kast’s status as a newcomer to power provides a relative advantage in terms of initial performance pressure, a luxury his predecessor Gabriel Boric did not have. This allows for a strategic blend of new faces with a vocation for public service with experienced former officials from the Piñera administration. Furthermore, Kast possesses greater maneuvering room in appointments compared to Piñera, who was constrained by the “cuoteo” (political quota system) within the Chile Vamos coalition. The inclusion of political outsiders willing to contribute to Kast’s overall performance could lead to more efficient and more broadly backed state management, which was a core campaign promise of the Kast team (Stevenson Flaño, 2025).

The Opposition: Post-defeat Debilitation

During the first half of Kast’s mandate, the opposition needs time to recover from its severe electoral defeat, which further favors the government’s prospects. Opposition party leaders, particularly within the Frente Amplio, have shown limited self-criticism following the Chilean left’s most significant electoral setback since the transition to democracy. This lack of introspection increases the likelihood of repeating the error of “maximalist” visions and “refoundational” dreams, thus potentially opening a path for the political right to secure two consecutive terms (Fuentes, 2025). The opposition presents itself as a bloc devoid of a common narrative or leadership capable of articulating a coherent alternative, thereby facilitating the consolidation of the Republican Party administration. Its disarticulation, exacerbated by the exceptional magnitude of the previous electoral defeat, allows Kast’s executive to advance its structural reforms with diminished parliamentary resistance. Consequently, the inherent inexperience of the new governing coalition is transformed into a tactical advantage against an adversary whose elites are still present and have yet to process their departure from power.

In sum, while the opposition lacks individual and programmatic strength, Kast’s success will hinge on his ability to avoid offering it “easy targets” through unforced errors or incendiary rhetoric that could serve as catalysts for a new leftist unity. In this sense, the challenge for the ruling coalition lies in capitalizing on this parliamentary “grace period” to institutionalize its changes before the opposition manages to reconfigure with new faces, preventing the risk that the current power vacuum on the left devolves into a false sense of security of La Moneda. Nevertheless, the emergence of a potent and charismatic opposition leader capable of unifying the opposition remains unlikely in a context of eroded leadership and repeated corruption scandals which have undermined public trust in the established leftist political actors.

Social Mobilization: The Public’s Aversion to Chaos

A final element of momentum for Kast is the still lingering societal impact of the 2019 unrest. Public opinion regarding “Octubrismo,” i.e. the systemic disruption caused by the Estallido Social (Social Outburst) that began in October 2019 and represented a massive protest movement against inequality and the established political order, is largely negative (T13, 2025); citizens remember the disruption of daily life, such as the destruction of metro stations and increased commuting times. This collective memory of excess and violence may isolate the continuing protest calls against Kast from communist sectors (Cooperativa, 2025), especially given the leftist’s Frente Amplio’s unproven capacity for territorial mobilization.

Instead of mass mobilization against an acting government, sociologist Roberto Méndez, founder of the UC Bicentennial Survey, describes a Chilean society marked by a profound structural pessimism that challenges the stability of any new political cycle (Mascaro, 2026). Méndez argues that citizen’s expectations regarding social mobility signal the perception of a stalled “social elevator” which not only erodes fundamental trust in institutions but also distorts the perception of the very foundation of the social contract, casting doubt on the concept of meritocracy. Méndez’ diagnosis aligns with our “the illusion of oasis” risk perception, since he warns that while an electoral momentum for Kast exists, it coexists with a long accumulated frustration that could devolve into chronic disaffection if the Kast administration fails to restore a sense of tangible progress in people’s daily lives.

Taken together, this means that the social mobility crisis acts as a factor of fragility that requires extremely precise management of expectations to prevent public pessimism from translating into a new wave of social unrest. For Méndez, the success of the Kast administration will not depend solely on favorable macroeconomic indicators, but on its ability to offer a narrative of resilience and security that resonates with a population that feels stagnant (Mascaro, 2026). Thus, Kast’s governability is predicated on his capacity to reactivate expectations of individual development within a social environment that, following the 2019 crisis, remains skeptical of promises of “better times.”

Psychological Risks: “Altitude Sickness” or Governing Hubris

A psychological risk which has taken many victims in the past of Chilean politics potentially involving Kast’s inner circle is suffering from “altitude sickness.” There is a chronic potential of Latin American seconds in command for verbal or behavioral gaffes following their ascent to power. Given that many of Kast’s votes are fragile, any such expletives could have a disproportionately negative impact. Viral symbolic phrases like “wake up earlier” or “buy flowers” (Jara, 2019), which wantedly or unwantedly plagued the Piñera administration, remain a latent threat.

In fact, some of such easy-to-exploit phrases have already been issued by members of the new government and have generated tensions. For example, the Minister of Housing and Urbanism, Iván Poduje, was the protagonist of a tense public exchange during a seminar titled “In times of resilience and reconstruction.” In this instance he addressed the progress of the reconstruction works in the city of Viña del Mar following the devastating 2024 fires. In his speech, the architect stated that there were paralyzed works in the region caused by environmental activism. In his presentation, the minister literally stated: “The works are paralyzed by environmental activism, environmental fanatics in the government who have stopped housing reconstruction because they found a tree. We have a Cancer Hospital which was stopped for 18 months because they found a nest of field mice,” (PubliMetro, 2026).

Furthermore, he announced that the government led by José Antonio Kast will promote a substantive reform of the National Monuments Council, an institution that, as he indicated, keeps projects halted due to archaeological findings. Poduje’s aggressive remarks alienated large parts of the – already not many – young voters of the Kast administration and set an example of negative discourse about long-term progressive issues like sustainability and climate change, which Kast aimed to avoid at any cost by concentrating on a decisively positive discourse of progression and balanced vision.

Good Governance versus the Rhetoric of An “Internal Enemy”

Significant risks also emerge from potential allies. Chile Vamos, as the center-right coalition accustomed to lead since 2015, may perceive a successful “new” Kast government as a threat to its own survival. Simultaneously, “libertarian” sectors in Kast’s environment might engage in rhetorical excesses that increase social tension and jeopardize governability. The hypothetical appointment of figures such as Johannes Kaiser illustrates the risk of communication errors that could alienate centrist voters (Rosas & Latorre, 2025). To mitigate this, Kast could avoid Piñera’s hyper-presidentialism and instead utilize cabinet members as “fuses” to absorb political fallout.

The fact that right-wing deputy Johannes Kaiser ruled out joining the cabinet or the group of undersecretaries of the Kast administration because his party, the National Libertarian Party (PNL), was not to be treated as a “third category force,” pointed to the dangers of a fragile executive (T13, 2026). By opting to remain a simple deputy, Kaiser positioned himself as a facilitator for the advancement of Kast’s agenda within a highly fragmented and atomized Congress, where the management of “caudillismo” will remain critical. Kaiser’s decision mitigates the risk of introducing controversial figures directly into the state apparatus—something that could intensify “internal enemy” rhetoric—and ultimately worked in favor of Kast’s political stability.

Fiscal Expenditure Challenges

Chilean pesos being counted in a cash-counting machine. Photo: Dreamstime.

On the financial front, Kast’s promises to reduce public spending could generate conflict both within the civil service and on the streets (Pardo, 2025). Although public employees possess limited capacity for large-scale self-mobilization, they may nonetheless undermine service delivery, thereby negatively affecting citizens’ perceptions of the government’s administrative competence. To mitigate such risks, Kast’s administration will need to moderate its anti-public servant rhetoric (Laborde, 2025), which could otherwise become a catalyst for broader mobilization against his government.

Intervention-wise, Kast began his term with a package of economic shock measures centered on austerity and the mitigation of external risks, most notably reflected in Finance Minister Jorge Quiroz’s announcement of an official directive to cut public spending by US$4 billion (San Juan, 2026). This cut, which represents approximately 3% of the budget across all ministries, is intended to achieve the fiscal savings target of US$6 billion within an 18-month period—a central pillar of Kast’s state-efficiency strategy aimed at substantially reducing the waste of public funds.

Simultaneously, the executive has convened emergency meetings to address the international rise in oil prices derived from the 2026 Iran conflict, attempting to contain an imported inflation that threatens the purchasing power of the middle class and the viability of medium-term financial planning. Chile is hit hard by any fluctuation of oil prices since it imports most of its fuel, and has therefore created its Mecanismo de Estabilización de Precios de los Combustibles (Fuel Price Stabilization Mechanism, MEPCO) as a government-run instrument in 2014 (Law Nº 20.765) to reduce the volatility of domestic fuel prices caused by fluctuations in international oil markets. Yet, given Kast’s austerity measures, opposition senators have raised concerns about the continuity of the MEPCO mechanism, questioning whether the government’s liberal orthodoxy will permit rising fuel costs to be passed on to consumers or whether more pragmatic interventions will be adopted to avoid social unrest (Cisternas, 2026).

Sustainability and Related Public Policy Communication

One often underestimated or even forgotten, yet crucial, aspect of the overall picture is that Kast’s and Chile’s prospects are closely tied to the UN’s Sustainability Agenda 2030, which is scheduled to be formally completed in 2030, when Kast’s mandate will end. Chile faces environmental degradation and water-related problems due to climate change, posing a threat to agriculture, mining, energy production, and social cohesion. Therefore, intelligent and well-communicated sustainability measures will play an important role in shaping public perceptions of Kast’s government. Chile’s progress regarding the SDGs has been steady but uneven since 2015 (Sustainable Development Report, n.d.). Although the inclusion of systemic sustainability in the reform of the national constitution failed, international data indicate that since 2015 there has been notable progress particularly in SDGs 1 (poverty reduction), 7 and 9 (access to energy and infrastructure), and 16 (institutional effectiveness) (Benedikter & Zlosilo, 2022).

On the other hand, the—particularly from the perspective of the middle class, even more pressing—need to tackle SDGs 10 (inequality), 13 (climate adaptation and water security), 15 (biodiversity and land use), and 11 (urban sustainability) has partly or largely failed or stagnated. There is a risk that further delays will aggravate these problems and negatively affect the country’s overall resilience outlook. There is a risk that further delays will aggravate these problems and undermine the country’s overall resilience outlook. At the same time, this situation offers considerable room for progress in sustainability and resilience, which Kast could use to his advantage by presenting himself as a rational and “green” “conservative-progressive” where it truly matters—somewhat akin to Arnold Schwarzenegger during his tenure as Governor of California (2003–2011).

So far, Kast does not seem to have understood the full importance and political potential of progressive signals in this field. On the contrary, the administration’s commitment to dismantling “permisología” (alleged overregulation) is poised to generate significant friction regarding sustainability among social camps, potentially triggering protracted conflicts with local communities, NGOs, and conservationist associations opposed to developmental projects connected with significant environmental degradation (Troncoso R., 2026). In contrast, Kast’s economic leadership argues that regulatory overreach and permit-related bureaucracy have become primary inhibitors of investment in Chile—a diagnosis shared by large segments of the country’s business elite. 

Consequently, Kast’s government intends to implement a coordinated strategy between the Ministries of Finance and Economy to streamline these processes. A pivotal element of this rhetoric has been President Kast’s viral mantra: “Chao guías ambientales, chao ideología” (“Goodbye environmental guidelines, goodbye ideology”). According to regional environmental organizations such as Terram, this phrase encapsulates a campaign narrative that unjustly frames environmental protection as an “extreme ideology” obstructing national economic progress (Terram, 2026). This ideological framing of sustainability policies constitutes a negative cornerstone of the administration’s internal analysis of growth and represents one of its most regressive aspects, since it threatens Chile’s natural environment and runs counter to the logic of balance promised by the president’s “humble momentum” approach.

The designated Minister of Finance, Jorge Quiroz, announced an expedited timeline, summoning the Council of Ministers within the first 45 days of government to resolve investment projects totaling US$12 billion (Pivotes, 2026). These initiatives already possess approved Environmental Qualification Resolutions (RCA) but remain stalled while awaiting executive clearance. To mitigate the risk of judicial paralysis, Quiroz introduced a legislative proposal inspired by the Brazilian model: a system in which judicial appeals in the name of sustainability and nature protection do not inherently halt project development, provided the investor holds a valid RCA.

On his first day in office, President Kast issued a direct mandate to resolve delays within the Environmental Impact Assessment System (SEIA). The administration identified 51 pending procedures linked to investments (Guzmán, 2026). Under the premise that “Chile’s progress requires putting the person at the center,” Kast tasked the Minister of the Environment, Francisca Toledo, with delivering a diagnosis and formal proposal to address unresolved environmental claims. This strategy represents a high-stakes gamble: prioritizing immediate job creation and individual initiative through attracting investment, while navigating the complex waters of environmental resilience and related social legitimacy.

In sum, falling back into outdated habits with regard to sustainability and nature is the exact opposite of what will help Kast over time. As an effect of Kast’s early measures, Chile’s most important green hydrogen-related project, HNH Energy – comprising AustriaEnergy, among others – is paralyzed. If Kast’s government prioritizes traditional extractive projects, such as mining, salmon farming, pulp, and forestry, in order to generate money and visible job creation quickly after taking office, then we might be in for a rude awakening.

“Futures Resilience” Between Chances and Pitfalls

Partly as a result of backward-oriented strategies, the state of the art of global future reports and future projections regarding Chile until 2030 indicates another serious yet underestimated meta-problem of the country. It consists of the lack of specialized futures studies and their proper institutionalization. On the international level, there is broad consensus that national institutes of statistics and planning are increasingly unable to work with “the future” properly since futures—in the plural, not the singular anymore—are accelerating and becoming more complex (UNESCO, 2025). At the same time, futures are playing an increasingly crucial role in “Imaginal Politics” (Bottici, 2014), i.e., those “contextual” politics which are an ever more impactful element within the attention economy (Goldhaber, 1997) that dominates elections in the 21st century.

Therefore, futures thinking is becoming a priority for all globalized (and globalizing) societies (Benedikter, 2025), with Chile lagging dangerously behind. The prospects of the country foreseen by national scientific research (government advisors, think tanks) are still mostly tied to traditional approaches to the future, i.e., planning and forecasting, but lack proper modernization, which consists of foresight and anticipation, i.e., working with futures in the present and the systematic inclusion of AI in public affairs (Benedikter & Cruz-Infante, 2026). For being one of the most advanced economies in the world, Chile is particularly weak with regard to theorizing and institutionalizing contemporary applied futures thinking (Benedikter, 2025), futures science, and transformation design for specific governmental purposes (Benedikter, 2025a).

Therefore, Kast’s innovation task is to systematically embed futures resilience into macroeconomic and sectoral planning, not least by founding and installing respective specialized institutions, which could be, for example, a national “Institute for the Future” of a multi-, inter-, and trans-disciplinary character, including risk prevention studies and futures opportunities reports (Dubai Future Foundation, 2025). A bold modernization of public administration towards anticipation and transformation design could become a beacon of application-oriented progress and a substitute for the half-hearted constitutional reform attempt. Globally integrated anticipation studies in science and education, including the introduction of futures literacy in schools and universities, could produce a strong fallout on national enterprises and governmental research and innovation capacities (UNESCO, nd). If well implemented, they would shine as an example for the rest of Latin America and thereby also attract international excellence. Kast should not underestimate the reputation gain of being perceived as a rational moderate who, originally and as a pioneer in his country’s history, stands for the combination of “futures,” transformation, sustainable development, and applied science. Measuring the impact of this combination after four years could help Kast draw a positive conclusion regarding his tenure, because just the fact of the implementation and practical start of such a combination could be easily sold as a success.

The Second Dimension — Foreign Policy Trajectories and Multipolar Interfaces: Kast’s Options within the Foreseeable Global System Dynamics

EU-Chile flags.
Photo: Alexander Filon / Dreamstime.

The second grand dimension is the foreign policy front. Kast’s foreign policy must consider Chile’s geopolitical positioning, with particular regard to the crucial trajectory of transatlantic relations. Chile’s integration into a re-globalizing international order (Benedikter, 2025b) over the coming years must pass through four critical sub-dimensions:

  • The relationship with the United States: focused on economic and security cooperation and the “Shield of the Americas” doctrine.
  • The relationship with China: navigating the tensions between trade dependency, resource exploitation and technological decoupling.
  • The relationship with Europe as a balancing counterweight to the US and China: leveraging the EU-Chile Advanced Framework Agreement and the EU’s Global Gateway approach which is the European Union’s strategic initiative to mobilize up to €400 billion by 2027 for infrastructure development worldwide, focusing on digital, energy, transport, health, and education sectors.
  • Diplomacy with Latin American Presidents: The formation of a regional meta-ideological axis, particularly with the Cono Sur (Latin America’s Southern Cone).

The Task: Seizing the Geopolitical Momentum and Relating It to the Domestic Momentum

Just as with our domestic assessment, the foreign policy landscape presents elements associated with a specific momentum that could catalyze the success of José Antonio Kast’s administration. This momentum is primarily anchored in his proximity to Donald Trump, who, in the view of many Latin American politicians, has emerged as a preeminent global leader, particularly when it comes to concrete action. The relationship with him bolsters a fundamental pillar of Kast’s “emergency government”: the reduction of perceived insecurity through the “Shield of the Americas” initiative launched in March 2026 (Gonzalez, 2026). This regional framework aims to combat narcotrafficking by aligning right-leaning regional presidents as strategic allies of the White House.

The Shield and the Hegemon: Hard Power and Resource Security

The inauguration of José Antonio Kast as Chile’s president marked a strategic shift of the Andean nation toward defensive realism and a preferential alignment with the Trump administration, configuring a new axis for security and resource procurement. Within this sphere, Chile’s integration into the “Anti-Cartel Coalition of the Americas” – a 17-nation alliance authorizing the use of lethal military force against transnational criminal organizations – positions the country as a pivotal operational hub for the “Shield of the Americas” (Castro, 2026).

This commitment not only seeks the neutralization of criminal networks through tactical and technological cooperation with Washington but also restores the relevance of an updated Monroe Doctrine, now called Trump’s Donroe Doctrine, wherein Chile acts as a regional guardian of hemispheric stability against extra-regional influences. Simultaneously, Kast capitalizes on the US imperative for nearshoring and friend-shoring of critical minerals. By signing bilateral agreements on copper, lithium, and rare earths with the US, the administration seeks to displace Chinese hegemony in high-tech supply chains, transforming Chile’s geological comparative advantages into national security assets for the Western bloc. This “active alignment” is further evidenced by the rejection of sensitive Chinese-led infrastructure projects, such as the Hong Kong fiber optic cable project in 2026, following political disputes since 2020.

The Milei Factor: Conservative Libertarian Realism versus the “Chainsaw”

President José Antonio Kast of Chile and President Javier Milei of Argentina hold a bilateral working meeting at the Casa Rosada alongside their ministers to establish the priorities of Chile-Argentina relations on April 6, 2026. Courtesy of Prensa Presidencia.

Continentally speaking, the consolidation of an ideological and pragmatic axis between Kast and Javier Milei represents a tectonic shift in Southern Cone geopolitics, moving from fragmented regionalism toward an alliance of “libertarian realism.” This relationship transcends rhetorical affinity by establishing a bilateral roadmap for economic deregulation and transborder security.

However, a critical analytical distinction exists between the two with regard to the method of structural reform. While the Argentine model is defined by the “chainsaw,” an accelerated and disruptive dismantling of the state, Kast has opted for “executive gradualism” or institutional realism. As Kast stated at the ICARE summit, “We do not use chainsaws,” marking a tactical distance that prioritizes fiscal efficiency over organic demolition (Laborde, 2026a). Instead of the chainsaw, under the guidance of Jorge Quiroz, the administration seeks, as mentioned, a US$6 billion spending cut over 18 months while safeguarding social transfers and public service stability. Thus, Chile positions itself as the institutionalized, austere version of the regional right-wing shift, trying to mitigate the risks of social destabilization inherent in extreme shock therapies.

Meloni’s “Third Way”: A Bridge to a New Transatlantic Pact?

Kast’s relationship with Giorgia Meloni represents the consolidation of a “new conservative contract” that seeks to transcend reactive populism in favor of institutional order and identity-based sovereignty. This “tactical shift” toward the Meloni model defines a right-wing policy that is firm on border control and security yet operates with fiscal responsibility and pragmatism within multilateral frameworks.

During their meeting in Rome, collaboration opportunities crystallized around a “hard power” agenda focused on the migratory crisis and prison reform, where Chile seeks to emulate Italian management of external perimeters and high-security penitentiary architecture (Villaseñor, 2026). This alignment also serves as a critical differentiator: the strategy is “less Trump and more Meloni.” It prioritizes a state-based conservatism that recovers institutional authority rather than dismantling it. Furthermore, Meloni acts as a vital bridge to Europe, providing Kast with a platform for international validation and potentially softening the friction between China and the US by presenting a pragmatic, transatlantic alternative for global economic cooperation.

The China Tension: Digital Infrastructure as a Battleground

Among the geopolitical frictions and systemic vulnerabilities is Chile’s strategic decision to tender a subsea fiber optic cable connecting South America to Asia. This has emerged as a critical friction point in the global competition for technological hegemony. Originally intended to link Valparaíso with Hong Kong, the project faced fierce opposition from the Donald Trump administration (Caro, 2026). Washington articulated its rejection based on national security and cyber espionage risks, asserting that the integration of Chinese technology into critical infrastructure compromised data integrity within the Western Hemisphere, which would ultimately also affect the “Shield of the Americas.”

Diplomatic pressure—documented by international outlets such as El País (Sanhueza, 2026) and The Japan Times (Garip & Attwood, 2026)—escalated into direct coercive measures, including the revocation of US visas for high-ranking Chilean officials following the signing of decrees favoring the Asian route. This scenario forced Santiago into a complex exercise of geopolitical balancing. Ultimately, the Chilean government opted for the alternative “Humboldt” project via Australia. This was a move interpreted by Chinese analysts as a strategic concession to US security demands at the expense of a more direct route to China. This episode illustrates the “strategic autonomy dilemma”: the difficulty for middle-income nations like Chile to maintain commercial neutrality with Beijing while preserving security alignments with the US, setting a precedent for how digital infrastructure redefines 21st-century spheres of influence, thus playing into the “Donroe Doctrine.”

Oil Price Increase and the Fundamental Paradox of Neo-Conservatism

The outbreak of military conflict in Iran has precipitated a supply crisis that presents José Antonio Kast’s administration with a premature “trial by fire,” threatening the viability of his austerity-based social contract. The sustained rise in oil prices, exacerbated by instability in the Strait of Hormuz, has forced Finance Minister Jorge Quiroz into anticipated “crisis mode” even before completing his first quarter in office (Laborde, 2026). The upward pressure on fuel prices not only erodes the purchasing power of the middle class, the key electoral base for the Republican Party, but also disrupts the fiscal planning of the government.

For Chile, this risk transcends accounting to become a fundamental challenge to governance and internal security. The lack of robust financial stabilization mechanisms, following the depletion of fiscal buffers by previous administrations, places Kast at a crossroads between libertarian orthodoxy and the pragmatic necessity of state intervention to prevent social unrest (Guzmán, 2026a). Implementing emergency subsidies would require postponing tax reforms and spending reductions, thereby weakening the self-reliance and entrepreneurial pillar that defines Kast’s political identity. Consequently, the war in the Middle East acts as an amplifier of fragility, exposing Chile’s foreign energy dependency as the Achilles’ heel of a project that aspires to sovereignty but remains highly exposed to global resource disruptions – which is one of the fundamental paradoxes that the new libertarian conservatism around the world faces in the era of re-globalization (Benedikter, 2022). It is the paradox that, in the 21st century, autonomy needs interdependence, and connectivity needs sovereignty – an equation which most right-wing governments have not yet properly understood, including the Trump administration, while the European conservative faction around Meloni in this regard seems to be a step further.

In reality, the highly dynamic paradox of autonomy-interconnectivity and sovereignty-interdependency constitutes the central founding challenge for every progression toward “balanced conservatism” in the first half of the century. Given the geopolitical situation, it is one of the most important arguments for why a new Atlanticism is necessary for countries like Chile: because the US under Trump is incapable of integrating both parts of the equation, while European leaders seem to be paving the way for it, although in imperfect ways that must be adapted by Latin American nations, as always in international relations.

Connecting the Dots: The Importance of Post-Populist Ideological Balance and the Need for a New Transatlanticism

In all these regards, in the coming years the EU-MERCOSUR Agreement might play a role, perhaps an even more significant one than expected (Bonini, 2025). Chile is not a full member of the Mercado Común del Sur, or MERCOSUR (the Southern Common Market), i.e. the South American free trade zone established in 1991, but only an associate member (estado asociado). This means that it has free trade agreements with the MERCOSUR bloc and participates in meetings, but it is not a full member of the bloc like Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay, or Bolivia. So, will the long-disputed (Infante & Benedikter, 2023), but eventually epochal, EU-MERCOSUR agreement affect Chile, and if so, how?

Yes, indirectly – economically, and even more so politically. Transatlanticism, put into economic terms, may become the most significant moderating factor for Chile in the coming years, irrespective of whether the Kast administration actively promotes it or not. Since 2024, Chile has had a fresh, modern free trade agreement with the EU, the Advanced Framework Agreement, which is already a strong tie. Almost all tariffs have been eliminated, and there are strong incentives for sustainability and investment. Once the full effects of the EU-MERCOSUR agreement, signed on January 17, 2026, in Paraguay, come to the fore, the MERCOSUR countries will have similar access to the EU as Chile already has. 

This means tougher competition for Chilean exports in the EU (e.g. wine, fruit, copper, salmon), because particularly Brazil and Argentina could offer cheaper prices. But Chile remains at a clear advantage in trade within South America, and as an associate member of MERCOSUR it continues to enjoy free trade with the bloc, which in toto will strengthen its ties with Europe. This will inevitably trigger a growing impact of EU ways of government and social development all over the geopolitical area, which could be a positive signal for the regional populations. 

In short: Chile will face a bit more competition in Europe, but the Kast government could benefit from the popular perception of a more European-leaning and thus more rule-based, greener, and more participatory-oriented administration. Many even see the “European connection” as an incentive for the region as a whole to become more attractive – exactly at a time when expansive Trumpism is sweeping in from the North.

Therefore, reviving Transatlanticism can be key to new forms of more enduring government in Chile amidst the ongoing process of global reorientation – during the Kast term, and beyond. It is here that Kast’s need to credibly overcome his rightist and populist reputation returns to the fore. Europe is historically and socially adverse to “strong” rightist positions. Kast’s “natural” affinity with Argentinian far-right president Javier Milei (Castro, 2025), to whom he symbolically traveled on his first foreign visit after his election, stands in contrast to his distance from Brazilian leftist president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. Instead, Kast has participated in activities with former rightist president of Brazil Jair Bolsonaro and has criticized his legal conviction (Fuentes, S., 2025). Therefore, to the extent that the Argentine president acts as the promoter of Kast’s integration into what is perceived as the middle ground of contemporary Latin American state leadership, Kast will have to ponder his new proximity to a more European flavor of Latin American policymaking with caution and intelligence.

Reforging Ties with the UN System

In all this, reforging ties with the United Nations system can be a welcome asset, since the UN and Europe have probably the closest ties when it comes to envision a sustainable and balanced societal future in today’s rapidly changing world. This is valid especially for the UN’s educational, scientific and cultural organization UNESCO. Kast should not forget that Chile has been one of the few countries which has actively incorporated elements related to UNESCO conventions and mandates into its legal framework, primarily through the ratification of treaties that hold high authority, often interpreted in conjunction with the nation’s 1980 Constitution (revised 2021). Key UNESCO-related elements included in Chile’s legal framework are the 

  • Protection of Cultural Property (1970 UNESCO Convention): Chile ratified this convention in 2014, assuming a commitment to implement legislative measures to prevent illicit import, export, and transfer of cultural property. This includes specific commitments to protect cultural heritage and prevent looting, as evidenced by agreements on archaeological materials.
  • Intangible Cultural Heritage: Chile actively works on safeguarding its living heritage, with elements such as the “Baile Chino” (2014) inscribed on the UNESCO Representative List.
  • Right to Education: The 1980 Constitution (revised in 2021) guarantees the right to education, which is a core principle mandated by UNESCO.
  • Human Rights Treaties Hierarchy: The Supreme Court of Chile has interpreted that, under Article 5(2) of the Constitution, international human rights treaties ratified by Chile (which can include education and cultural rights promoted by UNESCO) have the same hierarchy as the constitution itself.
  • Cultural and Creative Initiatives: Chile participates in the UNESCO Creative Cities network, with Valparaíso recognized in the Music category. 
  • These elements are often integrated into national legislation through decrees from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or the Ministry of Cultures, Arts and Heritage.

Summary and Outlook 

For Kast, as for any president in his first term, the questions to address are many. Kast has been associated with Latin American rightist and populist leaders but needs integration into and support from the moderate international community, especially Europe and UNESCO, to find the “right balance” both domestically and in foreign policy. As a consequence, one of his crucial challenges is to credibly overcome his populist reputation by positioning himself in the middle ground of rational center-conservative politics, integrating progressive elements such as offensives in sustainability and futures, located at the interface of the global and the local, and strengthening relations with Europe and UNESCO – both of which have already been present in Chile’s public debate for a long time – while not neglecting the pressure from its Northern companion, Trump. The step-by-step realization of Kast’s strategy of “humble momentum” will be crucial to avoid the temptations of the “illusion of oasis.” Kast’s destiny will depend on the respective learning capacity of his team, which requires a conscious revival of Atlanticism for the reasons of ideological balancing and the practical use of the EU’s new instruments of transcontinental cooperation.

In all this, three key questions will define the future of Kast’s administration:

  1. Which version of Kast will govern: the hard-core or the moderate one?
  2. Will he be able to discipline his inner circle and integrate non-ideological outsiders into key positions, which could help to get rid of populism both reputation-wise and in practice?
  3. To which extent can Kast mobilize the Transatlantic and the UNESCO bridge to put more moderate, participatory and sustainable policies in place and increment a balanced futurism in institutionalized ways, for example by making Chile a global beacon of “Sustainable Futures Science” (Benedikter, 2025a) and “Futures Literacy” (Miller, 2018), thus making the process of shaping the future a social movement (Baumgartner and Hechensteiner, 2022) and leaving his mark beyond his charge and satisfying the moderate center-part of his votership?

If so, Kast’s opportunity lies in self-restraint in order to overcome his reputation as the “OutKast” right-wing populist. By integrating sustainability and futures into his arsenal, he could reshape the “Imaginal Politics” that surround him. Governing quietly, avoiding provocation, and delivering modest but tangible improvements could allow Kast to leave office in 2030, i.e. at the formal end of the UN Agenda for Sustainability, having stabilized Chile, even without pretending to have solved its most fundamental long-term issues. 

The Italian administration of Giorgia Meloni, in charge since October 22, 2022, the third longest-serving government in post-war Italy, was initially considered, like Kast, as clinging to “strong” rightist and populist positions (Bruno, 2025). Yet it has shown that publicly decoupling ideology from pragmatic day-to-day problem-solving and continuity, while remaining silent on divisive matters and overly grand visions, can work to publicly mainstream former rightists toward the center. 

The key is to choose moderate policies without much rhetoric while pursuing practical goals with continuity, constantly seeking balance. Most probably, this is not the ideal or explicit, but rather a manageable and implicit model for Kast to follow. On the exact ways of making it his own, and thereby ultimately overcoming populism for a more serious conservatism that can last, a good part of the future of democracy in Chile will rely (Benedikter et al., 2021). Perhaps even the recent evolution of the rapidly declining relationship between Meloni and Trump, against the backdrop of their serious dispute over the Catholic Pope in April 2026, might hold some lessons for the Catholic Kast for the years to come.


 

(*) Miguel Zlosilo, MA, is the former director of communication of public policies for the President of Chile (Sebastián Piñera Echenique) at the presidential residence La Moneda. He is the Co-Founder of Artool, a market and data strategy communication enterprise in Santiago de Chile.

(**) Roland Benedikter, UNESCO Chair, Dr. phil., Dr. rer. pol, is Co-Head of the Center for Advanced Studies of The European Academy of Bolzano / Eurac Research, Italy, UNESCO Chair in Interdisciplinary Anticipation & Global-Local Transformation, former advisor of the German Federal and US Governments and full member of the European Academy of Sciences and Arts. Linkedin: www.linkedin.com/in/roland-benedikter-8341922a9, Google Scholar: https://scholar.google.it/citations?user=mOee1ZcAAAAJ&hl=en, ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0002-7977-7052, Research Gate: https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Roland-Benedikter

Corresponding author: Roland Benedikter. Email: roland.benedikter@eurac.edu.


 

Statements

There were and are no ethically relevant aspects in the making of this article to be considered. No human or animal studies were carried out, and there is no informed consent needed. There are no conflicts of interests or incompatibilities to report. This research received no funding, and the authors have no financial or non-financial interests. 


 

References

Aliende, José & Romero-Tarin, Adela. (2026). “The New International Political Context and the Relationship Between the European Union and Latin America.” In: Public Policy and Research in Latin America, (pp.115-125) 10.1007/978-3-031-90649-7_6.

Baumgartner, Barbara and Hechensteiner, Sigrid. (2022). “Shaping the future must be a social movement.” Eurac. 24 October 2022. https://www.eurac.edu/en/magazine/zukunft-zu-gestalten-muss-eine-gesellschaftliche-bewegung-sein

Benedikter, Roland and Siepmann, Katja. (2015). Chile in Transition: Prospects and Challenges for Latin America’s Forerunner of Development. Springer.

Benedikter, Roland and Zlosilo, Miguel. (2017). “Chile’s 2017 presidential election: evaluating the second Bachelet government.” LSE Blogs. November 18, 2017 https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/latamcaribbean/2017/11/18/chiles-2017-presidential-election-evaluating-the-second-bachelet-government/

Benedikter, Roland. (2021). “What is Re-Globalization?” New Global Studies, 2021-04, Vol.15 (1), p.73-84. DOI: 10.1515/ngs-2020-0051

Benedikter, Roland; Infante, Carlos Cruz & Zlosilo, Miguel. (2021): “The Future of

Democracy in Chile.” Challenge, DOI: 10.1080/05775132.2021.1881294 

Benedikter, Roland. (2022). “Re-Globalization – Aspects of a Heuristic Umbrella Term Trying to Encompass Contemporary Change – An Introductory Overview.” In: Re-Globalization. Routledge

Benedikter, Roland & Zlosilo, Miguel. (2022). “The Chilean Pendulum: Perspectives after Chile’s Constitutional Referendum.” 13 September 2022. https://blogs.eui.eu/latin-american-working-group/the-chilean-pendulum-perspectives-after-chiles-constitutional-referendum

Benedikter, R. (2025). “Futures thinking becomes a priority for all globalized societies.” Discov glob soc 3, 7 https://doi.org/10.1007/s44282-024-00128-7

Benedikter, R. (2025a). “What is transformation design? Applying transdisciplinarity to govern change.” Humanit Soc Sci Commun. 12, 1869. https://doi.org/10.1057/s41599-025-05640-y

Benedikter, Roland. (2025b). “Re-Globalization, Whereto? A Summary and Outlook of Six Years of Reglobalization, 2019–2025.” December 2025. https://globalejournal.org/global-e/december-2025/reglobalization-whereto-summary-and-outlook-six-years-reglobalization-2019

Benedikter, R. & Cruz-Infante, C. (2026). “AI in Latin America: Attempts of regulating Artificial Intelligence within the geopolitical paradigm of Active Non-Alignment (ANA). A critical review.” J Transatl Stud, 24, 11. https://doi.org/10.1057/s42738-026-00156-y

Berg, Ryan C.; Hernandez-Roy, Christopher; Hu Jessie and Ziemer, Henry. (2025).

 “Hearts, Minds, and Uniforms: New Data Reveals China and Russia’s Growing Military Diplomacy Footprint in Latin America and the Caribbean.” CSIS. September 22, 2025. https://www.csis.org/analysis/hearts-minds-and-uniforms#:~:text=Russia’s%20sponsorship%20of%20the%20International,of%20Pichincha%20earlier%20this%20year

Bonini, Emanuele. (2025). “Signing of the Mercosur trade agreement slips to January; Meloni also on board.” EU News.19 December 2025. https://www.eunews.it/en/2025/12/19/signing-of-the-mercosur-trade-agreement-slips-to-january-meloni-also-on-board/

Bottici, Chiara. (2014). Imaginal Politics – Images Beyond Imagination and the Imaginary. Columbia University Press.

Bruno, V. A. (2025). “Meloni government’s strategic narratives vis-à-vis global financial markets: on the path of economic sovereignism?” European Politics and Society, 26(3), 661–679. https://doi.org/10.1080/23745118.2024.2389938

Caro, Isabel. (2026). “El cable chino de fibra óptica que rompió la transición de gobierno entre Boric y Kast en Chile (y por el que EE.UU. sancionó a funcionarios del país).” BBC News Mundo. 4 marzo 2026. https://www.bbc.com/mundo/articles/c8d554v943lo

Castro, Maolis. (2026). “Kast estrecha lazos con Trump y apoya su política exterior.” El Pais. March 8, 2026. https://elpais.com/chile/2026-03-08/kast-estrecha-lazos-con-trump-y-apoya-su-politica-exterior.html

Castro, Manuela. (2025). “Kast visita a Milei en Argentina en su primer viaje tras ser elegido presidente de Chile. ¿Qué significa?” CNN en Español. 16 de diciembre de 2025. https://cnnespanol.cnn.com/2025/12/16/latinoamerica/chile-argentina-kast-milei-orix

Cisternas, María Luisa. (2026). “Senadores de oposición acusan que Gobierno ‘insinúa’ eliminar el Mepco y Quiroz responde: ‘Todavía no hay ningún proyecto’.” Emol. 16 de Marzo de 2026. https://www.emol.com/noticias/Nacional/2026/03/16/1194466/senadores-oposicion-mepco-quiroz.html

Cooperativo. (2019) “Presidente Piñera: Chile es un verdadero oasis en una América Latina convulsionada.” 9 de Octubre de 2019.  https://cooperativa.cl/noticias/pais/sebastian-pinera/presidente-pinera-chile-es-un-verdadero-oasis-en-una-america-latina/2019-10-09/063956.html

Cooperativa. (2025). “PC defiende su anuncio de movilización de masas y PS llama a la cautela. 26 de Diciembre de 2025. https://cooperativa.cl/noticias/pais/politica/partido-comunista/pc-defiende-su-anuncio-de-movilizacion-de-masas-y-ps-llama-a-la-cautela/2025-12-26/153933.html

DF. (2010). “Sebastián Piñera: Arriba los corazones, porque vienen tiempos mejores para Chile.” https://www.df.cl/economia-y-politica/sebastian-pinera-arriba-los-corazones-porque-vienen-tiempos-mejores

Dubai Future Foundation. (2025). “THE GLOBAL 50.” https://www.dubaifuture.ae/the-global-50/

Ellis, R. Evan (2025).  “China’s 2025 White Paper on Latin America Sets the Stage for Renewed Competition With the US.” The Diplomat. December 16, 2025. https://thediplomat.com/2025/12/chinas-2025-white-paper-on-latin-america-sets-the-stage-for-renewed-competition-with-the-us/#:~:text=Diplomacy%20%7C%20East%20Asia-,China’s%202025%20White%20Paper%20on%20Latin%20America%20Sets%20the%20Stage,focus%20to%20the%20Western%20Hemisphere.   

Emol. (2013). Elecciones 2013. https://www.emol.com/especiales/2013/actualidad/nacional/carrera-presidencial/hemiciclo-diputados.asp

Emol. (2024) “Claro y Ponce Lerou: Los cruces de Sebastián Piñera con sus adversarios en el mundo Empresarial.” Febrero 09, 2024 https://www.emol.com/noticias/Economia/2024/02/09/1121201/sebastian-pinera-adversarios-mundo-empresarial.html

Ex-Ante. (2025). “Lo que hay que saber de los resultados de la presidencial y la parlamentaria.” Noviembre 17, 2025. https://www.ex-ante.cl/lo-que-hay-que-saber-de-los-resultados-de-la-presidencial-y-la-parlamentaria/

Fuentes, Samuel. (2025). “Kast tras condena a Jair Bolsonaro: ‘Hay jueces ahí que tienen una ideología muy marcada’.” Biobiochile. September 12, 2025.  https://www.biobiochile.cl/noticias/nacional/chile/2025/09/12/kast-tras-condena-a-jair-bolsonaro-hay-jueces-ahi-que-tienen-una-ideologia-muy-marcada.shtml

Fuentes, Cristóbal. (2025). “Poca autocrítica y reproches al gobierno: el primer análisis del PS de la derrota de la izquierda.” La Tercera. 29 DICIEMBRE 2025. https://www.latercera.com/politica/noticia/poca-autocritica-y-reproches-al-gobierno-el-primer-analisis-del-ps-de-la-derrota-de-la-izquierda/#google_vignette

Garip, Patricia and Attwood, James. (2026). “Chile’s new president to signal swift alignment with Trump.” Japan Times.March 12, 2026.  https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2026/03/12/world/politics/chile-president-alignment-trump/

Gómez, Andrés. (2025). “Carlos Peña, ensayista: “Kast me parece una personalidad modesta en ideas, pero con sentido práctico.” La Tercera. 15 DICIEMBRE 2025. https://www.latercera.com/politica/noticia/carlos-pena-ensayista-kast-me-parece-una-personalidad-modesta-en-ideas-pero-con-sentido-practico/#google_vignette

Goldhaber, M. H. (1997). “The attention economy and the Net.” First Monday, 2(4). https://doi.org/10.5210/fm.v2i4.519

Gonzalez, Jenipher Camino. (2026). “’Shield of the Americas’: Trump launches regional coalition.” DW. 03/07/2026. https://www.dw.com/en/shield-of-the-americas-trump-launches-regional-coalition/a-76262744

Guzmán, José Tomás. (2025). “Un discurso ‘moderado’ en que ‘comenzó a administrar expectativas’: Análisis a la primera alocución de Kast.” Emol. December 15, 2025. https://www.emol.com/noticias/Nacional/2025/12/15/1185882/discurso-kast-presidente.html

Guzmán, José Tomás. (2026). “Hasta 90 días de plazo: El instructivo que firmó Kast para destrabar proyectos por más de US$16 mil millones.” Emol. 12 de Marzo de 2026. https://www.emol.com/noticias/Economia/2026/03/12/1194064/kast-decreto-inversion.html

Guzmán, José Tomás. (2026a). “Ajuste fiscal, inversiones y Mepco: Los temas con los que Quiroz marcó el pulso de la agenda seminal.” Emol. 21 de Marzo de 2026. 

https://www.emol.com/noticias/Economia/2026/03/21/1194969/semana-de-quiroz-hacienda.html

Heine, Jorge. (2025). “Not Picking Sides and the “New Neutrals”: Active Nonalignment, Great Power Competition, and the Global South.”  Journal of World Affairs: Voice of the Global South. March 16, 2025. Volume 1, Issue 1.

https://doi-org.focus.lib.kth.se/10.1177/29769442251324710

Infante, Carlos Cruz and Benedikter, Roland. (2023). “Can the EU-Mercosur trade agreement be saved?” LSE Blogs. November 20th, 2023.

https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/europpblog/2023/11/20/can-the-eu-mercosur-trade-agreement-be-saved/

Jara, Alejandra. (2019). “Fontaine y su llamado a ‘madrugar’ para ahorrar en el metro: ‘Preferiría haberlo dicho de una manera distinta’.” La Tercera. 18 OCTUBRE 2019. https://www.latercera.com/politica/noticia/fontaine-llamado-madrugar-ahorrar-metro-preferiria-haberlo-dicho-una-manera-distinta/866433/#google_vignette

Laborde, Antonia. (2025). “‘Parásitos’: la pluma del principal asesor de Kast genera tensión en la derecha chilena a un mes de la elección.” El Pais. 14 Oct. 2025. https://elpais.com/chile/2025-10-14/los-parasitos-del-estado-se-enquistan-en-la-campana-presidencial-chilena-y-complican-a-kast.html

Laborde, Antonia. (2026). “El aumento del precio de los combustibles, primera prueba de fuego de Kast.” El Pais. 19 MAR 2026. https://elpais.com/chile/2026-03-18/el-aumento-del-precio-de-los-combustibles-primera-prueba-de-fuego-del-kast.html

Laborde, Antonia. (2026a). “Kast se diferencia de Milei en lo económico: ‘Nosotros no usamos motosierra’.” El Pais. 08 ENE 2026. https://elpais.com/chile/2026-01-08/kast-se-diferencia-de-milei-en-lo-economico-nosotros-no-usamos-motosierra.html

Levin, Henrietta. (2026). “China’s strategy for Latin America and the ’Trump Corollary’.” Brookings. February 13, 2026. https://www.brookings.edu/articles/chinas-strategy-for-latin-america-and-the-trump-corollary/

Mascaro, Micaela Galarce. (2026). “Roberto Méndez: una sociedad más pesimista y una movilidad social en crisis.” Radio Pauta. 23 DE ENERO 2026. https://www.pauta.cl/actualidad/2026/01/23/roberto-mendez-una-sociedad-mas-pesimista-y-una-movilidad-social-en-crisis.html

Miller, Riel. (2018). Transforming the Future – Anticipation in the 21st Century. Routledge

Molina, Paula. (2021). “’No middle ground’: Chile voters face tough choice as run-off looms.” BBC. December 2, 2021. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-59489045

Navia, Patricio. (2026). “The Question Facing José Antonio Kast.” Americas Quarterly. March 11, 2026. https://americasquarterly.org/article/jose-antonio-kast-presidency-chile/

Nogales, David (2025). “El Banco Central se suma a la tendencia y eleva el cálculo para el precio del cobre 2026 y 2027.” La Tercera. 17 DICIEMBRE 2025. https://www.latercera.com/pulso/noticia/el-banco-central-se-suma-a-la-tendencia-y-eleva-el-calculo-para-el-precio-del-cobre/#google_vignette

Olguín, Gonzalo. (2026). “Alessandri derrota a Jiles y asegura para el futuro gobierno de Kast control de la Cámara de Diputados.” Biobiochile. 11 marzo de 2026. https://www.biobiochile.cl/noticias/nacional/chile/2026/03/11/primera-victoria-del-gobierno-de-kast-diputado-alessandri-es-elegido-presidente-de-la-camara.shtml

Pardo, Javier. (2025). “Expertos advierten posible ’shock’ por el recorte fiscal de Kast: ‘Hacerlo en 18 meses es un riesgo’.” Biobiochile. 29 diciembre de 2025. https://www.biobiochile.cl/noticias/economia/actualidad-economica/2025/12/29/expertos-advierten-posible-shock-por-el-recorte-fiscal-de-kast-hacerlo-en-18-meses-es-un-riesgo.shtml

Pivotes. (2026). “EL DINEMO – DE 1.500 A 11 CIRCULARES y revisión de US$ 12 mil millones en 45 días: la promesa de Quiroz en evaluación ambiental y construcción.” 
15 ENERO, 2026. |https://www.pivotes.cl/contenidos/articulos/de-1-500-a-11-circulares-y-revision-de-us-12-mil-millones-en-45-dias-la-promesa-de-quiroz-en-evaluacion-ambiental-y-construccion/

PubliMetro. (2026). “Iván Poduje protagoniza tenso cruce por reconstrucción en Viña del Mar y activismo ambiental.” January 30, 2026. https://www.publimetro.cl/noticias/2026/01/30/ivan-poduje-protagoniza-tenso-cruce-por-reconstruccion-en-vina-del-mar-y-activismo-ambiental/

Rosas, Pedro & Latorre, Rocío. (2025). “Temas valóricos, ideas programáticas y factor Bachelet: las condiciones de Kaiser para integrarse al gobierno de Kast.” La Tercera. 29 Diciembre, 2025. https://www.latercera.com/politica/noticia/temas-valoricos-ideas-programaticas-y-factor-bachelet-las-condiciones-de-kaiser-para-integrarse-al-gobierno-de-kast/

Sanhueza, Ana Maria. (2026). “El cable submarino chino marca el final del Gobierno de Boric y condiciona a la Administración de Kast.” El Pais. 28 FEB. 2026. https://elpais.com/chile/2026-02-28/el-cable-submarino-chino-marca-el-final-del-gobierno-de-boric-y-condiciona-a-la-administracion-de-kast.html

San Juan, Patricia. (2026). “Quiroz anuncia oficio para reducción de gasto en ministerios por US$4.000 millones.” La tercera. 15 MARZO 2026. https://www.latercera.com/pulso/noticia/quiroz-anuncia-oficio-para-reduccion-de-gasto-en-ministerios-por-us4000-millones/#google_vignette

Stevenson Flaño, Nicolás. (2025). “Para sub 35 y con vocación pública: El programa que recluta jóvenes para trabajar en gobierno de Kast.” Emol. 16 de Diciembre de 2025. https://www.emol.com/noticias/Nacional/2025/12/16/1186068/futuro-publico-convocatoria-postulaciones-publico.html

Sustainable Development Report. (nd). Chile. https://dashboards.sdgindex.org/profiles/chile/

T13: (2025). “A seis años del 18 de octubre: cómo cambió la percepción del Estallido Social, según Criteria.” October 19, 2025. https://www.t13.cl/noticia/politica/a-seis-anos-18-octubre-como-cambio-percepcion-estallido-social-criteria-19-10-2025

T13. (2026). “Kaiser descarta formar parte del gobierno de Kast con subsecretarías: ‘El PNL no es un partido de tercera categoría’.” 21 de Enero de 2026. https://www.t13.cl/noticia/politica/kaiser-descarta-formar-parte-del-gobierno-kast-subsecretarias-21-1-2026

Terram. (2026). “Desafíos ambientales de Chile en 2026: riesgos y amenazas ante la llegada del gobierno de Kast.” 08/01/2026. https://www.terram.cl/desafios-ambientales-de-chile-en-2026-riesgos-y-amenazas-ante-la-llegada-del-gobierno-de-kast/

Toni, E.; Paniagua, P. & Órdenes, P. (2026). “Policy changes and growth slowdown: assessing Chile’s lost decade.” Public Choice 206, 425–454 (2026). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11127-025-01318-w

Troncoso R., Jaime. (2025). “Banco Central: Economía verá un mejor crecimiento en el primer año de José Antonio Kast.” Ex-Ante. Diciembre 17, 2025. https://www.ex-ante.cl/ipom-banco-central-proyecta-inflacion-en-descenso-y-crecimiento-al-alza-en-primer-ano-de-kast/

Troncoso R., Jaime. (2026). “Quiroz anuncia profunda desregulación y ejemplifica con reducción de 1.500 circulares a 11 en la construcción.” Ex-Ante. Enero 8, 2026. https://www.ex-ante.cl/quiroz-anuncia-profunda-desregulacion-y-ejemplifica-con-reduccion-de-1-500-circulares-a-11-en-la-construccion/

UNESCO. (nd). “Futures Literacy & Foresight.” https://www.unesco.org/en/futures-literacy

UNESCO. (2025). “Anticipating Change: How Will AI Shape the Future of Public Service?” 19 December 2025. https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/anticipating-change-how-will-ai-shape-future-public-service

US Department of State (2026, March 6) “The United States to Host the Shield of the Americas Summit.” https://www.state.gov/releases/office-of-the-spokesperson/2026/03/the-united-states-to-host-the-shield-of-the-americas-summit

Vega, Valeria & Alonso, Carlos. (2026). “Inflación cierra 2025 en su menor nivel en cinco años y expertos reafirman perspectiva de que estará en 3% en primer trimester.” La Tercera. 9 ENERO 2026. https://www.latercera.com/pulso/noticia/inflacion-cierra-2025-en-su-menor-nivel-en-cinco-anos-y-expertos-reafirman-perspectiva-de-que-estara-en-3-en-primer-trimestre/

Villaseñor, Paula. (2026). “Kast se reunió con Giorgia Meloni en Roma: conversación se centró en fronteras y sistema penitenciario.” Biobiochile. 05 febrero de 2026. https://www.biobiochile.cl/noticias/nacional/chile/2026/02/05/kast-se-reunio-con-giorgia-meloni-en-roma-conversacion-se-centro-en-fronteras-y-sistema-penitenciario.shtml

Villegas, Alexander and Cambero, Fabian. (2026, Marc 10). Elected in an economic upswing, Chile’s Kast takes office as global turmoil rattles markets.” Reuters.  https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/elected-an-economic-upswing-chiles-kast-takes-office-global-turmoil-rattles-2026-03-10/

Dr. Amir Ali.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The BJP Now Seeks Domination from Parliament to Panchayat

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

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

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

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

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

Hindutva Now Seeks to Erase Muslim Visibility

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

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

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

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

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

Anti-Muslim Rhetoric Has Become Progressively Harsher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ‘Infiltrator’ Rhetoric Places Muslims Outside National Belonging

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

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

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

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

Indian Pluralism Is Being Replaced by National Oneness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Administrative Majoritarianism Is Reshaping Indian Democracy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hindutva Narrows What It Means to Be Hindu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Populism and Austerity Are Pushing India Toward Fascistic Politics

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aspirational Politics Has Fused with Anti-Muslim Otherization

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

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

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

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

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

Modi’s ‘People’ Excludes Muslims and Dissenters

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Opposition Is Playing with Loaded Dice

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

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

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

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

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

India Lacks the Institutional Pushback Seen Elsewhere

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

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

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

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

India Remains in the Mist and Fog of Hindutva Domination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pro-Palestinian protest.

Nakba Day in London: The Fight for the Narrative

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

By João Ferreira Dias

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orbánism Kept Democracy’s Facade While Emptying It Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything Looked Legal, but Justice Became Impossible

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

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

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

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

Authoritarianism Depends on Mental Control as Much as Institutions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Real Fraud Happened Outside the Polling Stations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

State Resources Became Tools of Party Politics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Damage to Civil Society Runs Deeper Than We Realized

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orbán Went from Feared to Ridiculed

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

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

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

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

Democratic Repair Requires Dismantling the Entire System

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Principles Alone Are No Longer Enough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Democracy Must Return in a Better Form

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

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

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

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

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

SummerSchool

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

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

Overview

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

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

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

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

It offers a unique opportunity to explore:

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

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

Tentative Program

Day 1 – Monday, July 6, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

TBC

Day 2 – Tuesday, July 7, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Day 3 – Wednesday, July 8, 2026 

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

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

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

Lecturer:

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

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

Day 4 – Thursday, July 9, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 5 – Friday, July 10, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

Methodology

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

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

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

Who should apply?

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

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

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

Evaluation Criteria and Certificate of Attendance

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

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

Credit

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

Dr. James Loxton.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

Transitions Rarely Begin from a Blank Slate

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

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

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

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

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

Authoritarian Inheritance Can Outlive the Dictator

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

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

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

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

Authoritarian Memory Can Become an Electoral Resource

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

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

Democracy Does Not Always Bury the Old Regime

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

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

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

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

The Greater Danger Today Is Populist Power-Grabbing

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

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

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

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

Some Populists Turn Dictatorship into a Golden Age

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

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

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

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

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

Former Regime Elites Can Colonize the Party System

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

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

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

Young Voters Can Embrace Dictatorships They Never Experienced

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

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

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

Democracy Requires More Than Elections

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

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

Authoritarian Actors Do Not Always Need Populism

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

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

Authoritarian Branding Survives Radio, Television, and X

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

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

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

Some Regimes Combine Democracy and Dictatorship

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

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

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

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

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

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

Professor Quinn Slobodian.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muskism Begins with the Network, Not the Individual

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

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

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

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

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

Musk Treats Democracy as Something to Be Hacked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silicon Valley No Longer Wants to Escape the State

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muskism Is About Becoming Part of the State

Caricature: Shutterstock.

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

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

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

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

Tech CEOs Are Not Sovereigns

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

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

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

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

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

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

Musk May Have Overplayed His Hand in Europe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Optimization Replaces Individual Freedom in Muskism

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

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

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

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

The Far Right Is the Bastard Offspring of Neoliberalism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Associate Professor Emilia Zankina.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Radev Unified Bulgaria’s Two Deepest Political Divides

Bulgarian President Rumen Radev.
Then-Bulgarian President Rumen Radev speaks to the media following his meeting with European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker at EU headquarters in Brussels, Belgium, on January 30, 2017. Photo: Dreamstime.

Professor Zankina, welcome. Bulgaria’s 2026 election appears to mark the end of a prolonged cycle of fragmented coalition politics and repeated snap elections. To what extent should Rumen Radev’s victory be interpreted as a democratic correction against institutional paralysis and corruption, and to what extent does it reflect the broader European trend of populist personalization of politics?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: The first thing I would like to say is that Rumen Radev’s success is a result of growing frustration among the population with recent instability, but also disillusionment with the mainstream parties. More than anything, however, his victory reflects his ability to combine two deep divisions within Bulgarian society. One is the pro-EU versus pro-Russian divide, and the other is the corruption versus anti-corruption divide. Let me say a little about each of them.

More than one party in Bulgaria has won elections on anti-corruption platforms. In fact, twice in recent history, we have had a new savior emerge and sweep parliamentary elections without even existing as a party before the campaign. One example is the 2001 victory of Bulgaria’s former king, Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who received 43 percent of the vote with a party formed only a few months before the election. Certainly, he was not a new public figure and had been widely respected throughout the years.

He ran on an anti-corruption and pro-European platform. After serving a full four-year mandate, his party became a junior coalition partner in the next government and then disappeared altogether. Boyko Borisov’s GERB, on the other hand, has been much more successful.

Borisov similarly emerged as a well-known political figure, having served as General Secretary of the Interior Ministry and later as Mayor of Sofia. He formed a party and swept the 2009 elections with 43 percent of the vote, again running on an anti-corruption platform and promising to save the country. Unlike Simeon’s movement, however, Borisov proved far more successful in maintaining power and, with a few exceptions, governed almost uninterruptedly until 2021, when the current instability began.

So once again, we see a population searching for a new savior—someone promising to clean the slate and eliminate corruption. The problem, of course, is that corruption is easy to mobilize voters around, but extremely difficult to address in practical terms and within specific institutions. It is therefore quite possible that voters may once again become disappointed with a government promising to eradicate corruption.

Disillusionment with Elites Helped Radev Consolidate a Broad Coalition

The second division I mentioned is even deeper. Pro-Russian and anti-Russian sentiments have shaped Bulgarian politics since independence in the late nineteenth century. Bulgaria has always had camps of Russophiles and Russophobes, and this divide has played out throughout Bulgarian history, including during the communist period and throughout the post-communist era.

Rumen Radev is clearly pro-Russian. He is a pilot who trained with both NATO and Russian forces, and he has repeatedly expressed support for Russia and Putin’s regime. For example, during the war in Ukraine, he refused to call it a war and continued referring to it as a “military operation.” When the caretaker government of Andrei Gurov signed a ten-year military cooperation agreement with Ukraine, Radev criticized it forcefully. He has also opposed sanctions, especially in the energy sector involving Russian gas and oil, as well as military aid to Ukraine, arguing that such measures threaten Bulgaria’s sovereignty and risk dragging the country into a war that is not its own.

Clearly, he has been able to draw on strong pro-Russian sentiment. If we look at the voters his newly formed party attracted, we see support coming from across the political spectrum. He has certainly taken votes from GERB, especially from voters disillusioned by Borisov’s association with Delyan Peevski, the leader of the ethnic Turkish party whom Borisov effectively co-opted. Peevski was sanctioned under the US Magnitsky Act and by the United Kingdom for corruption. He has become the epitome of the corrupt political model and the “octopus” that has penetrated Bulgarian politics. Borisov’s association with Peevski clearly damaged him, and many GERB voters shifted to Radev.

Radev also attracted voters from the urban democratic opposition, Democratic Bulgaria, which discredited itself to some extent through a short-lived coalition arrangement with Borisov in recent years.

Despite Russophilia, Bulgaria Remains Fundamentally Pro-European

Bulgaria-EU flags.
Photo: Dreamstime.

Most interestingly, however, he has almost completely displaced the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP), the successor to the Communist Party and historically the country’s most consistently pro-Russian—though also pro-European—party. The BSP fell from one million votes in 2017 to failing to pass the four-percent threshold, losing more than tenfold of its support.

He has also taken more than half the support of the radical-right, pro-Russian party Revival. Bulgaria has a long history of radical-right pro-Russian parties receiving Russian funding, with one replacing another over time. Revival is simply the latest in this line, following parties such as Ataka. Radev succeeded in attracting more than half of their voters. He also drew support from various flash parties, such as There Are Such People, Glory, and Sword.

So we see that he has managed to combine these two major cleavages within Bulgarian society and successfully mobilize voters around them.

As for whether this reflects the broader trend of personalist politics, we have certainly seen this across Europe and beyond—in the United States, in India under Modi, and in Turkey under Erdoğan. With a few exceptions, such as Péter Magyar defeating Orbán in Hungary, strong personalities with increasingly illiberal tendencies have continued to attract support. So yes, Radev is certainly part of that broader trend.

The question, however, is whether he will be able to consolidate such a diverse coalition of support. It is one thing to win elections with heterogeneous backing; it is quite another to pursue concrete policies while maintaining that support. I think he will try to walk a fine line—embracing pro-Russian positions on issues such as energy while maintaining pro-EU policies, especially in matters related to EU funding.

If he were to threaten Bulgaria’s EU affiliation or seriously obstruct Bulgaria’s entry into the Eurozone, which he has publicly opposed, we would immediately see massive protests in the streets. Despite political fragmentation, the majority of the Bulgarian population remains fundamentally pro-European.

Populism Thrives Where Institutions Lose Trust

In your work on populism in Eastern Europe, you conceptualize populism not merely as an ideology but as a political strategy that reduces reliance on formal institutions while privileging direct, personalized political action. How does Radev’s rise illustrate this “transaction-cost” logic of populism, particularly in a context where public distrust toward parties, parliament, and the judiciary has become deeply entrenched?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: It’s an excellent question, and I think Radev is a perfect example of this transaction-costapproach because he entered politics as an independent and won two consecutive presidential elections.

From his presidential position, he has been able to spearhead criticism of and opposition to the governing party, GERB. He has skillfully utilized the visibility of the presidency and his ability to address the population directly. For example, on January 1 at midnight, on New Year’s Eve, the president is the only political figure who addresses the nation. Radev used this privilege to advocate for a referendum on the euro. No other politician enjoys such a platform. At the very moment the euro issue became politically salient, he was speaking directly to the entire nation, advocating for a referendum and opposing euro adoption.

He has therefore used presidential authority in a very strategic way, expanding his influence far beyond the office’s formal constitutional limits. He has benefited from extensive media attention and has exercised his veto power more than any other Bulgarian president. Although the presidential veto carries limited institutional weight in Bulgaria, since it can be overturned by a simple parliamentary majority, he nevertheless used it to expand his political influence significantly.

The fact that Bulgaria lacked regular governments for five years also allowed him to appoint caretaker governments chosen by him without parliamentary approval. So, even though he acted nominally within legal limits, he effectively bypassed numerous checks and balances and institutional constraints in order to augment his power, increase his popularity, and, above all, create a direct link with voters in the absence of a party structure and institutional parliamentary mechanisms.

And it is no surprise that it almost did not matter what the party itself was going to be. If you look at his government, it is a hastily assembled coalition made up of people from previous political parties, some experts, and individuals from his presidential cabinet. It is clear that he does not have a deep bench. It is clear that this is not a solid organization. It is clear that he is cashing in precisely on this non-intermediated approach to politics.

Moderate Rhetoric Can Mask a Euroskeptic Agenda

People protesting on the main streets of the capital, demanding the Prime Minister’s resignation, in Sofia, Bulgaria, on July 14, 2020. Photo: Shutterstock.

Radev presents himself simultaneously as an anti-corruption reformer, a defender of Bulgarian sovereignty, and a pragmatic critic of Brussels. How should we analytically distinguish between democratic sovereignty claims and the gradual normalization of Eurosceptic majoritarian politics in the Bulgarian case?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: I personally do not trust his arguments. He is very clever, highly educated, and extremely erudite. He comes across as very professional and speaks excellent English. He is, in many ways, a polished and highly skilled politician. The arguments he makes are delivered in a moderate and reasonable tone, but we should not fool ourselves about what lies behind them.

In a situation of geostrategic chaos, when America appears to be abandoning its European allies and adopting increasingly unpredictable behavior under the current Trump administration, Bulgaria, as a country of under seven million people, has very limited options for security, whether military or economic. Bulgaria’s future therefore lies with the European Union for both economic and security reasons. EU membership, together with accession to Schengen and the Eurozone, has demonstrated that Bulgaria has been following a path that has led to significant growth in average income, despite current inflation, which is a global phenomenon.

Moreover, despite the political instability of the last five years, Bulgaria’s integration into the European project has limited politicians’ ability to seriously damage the country’s economic situation. Despite public complaints, wages are rising, labor opportunities are improving, and Bulgarians are far more connected to Europe and travel much more frequently. One simply cannot compare life in Bulgaria before and after EU membership in 2007.

So, when Radev makes arguments that may sound reasonable—for example, claiming that Europe is imposing this or that directive—he is taking advantage of the fact that, within such a large union, some directives will inevitably be unpopular. Take a simple example from years ago: anti-smoking regulations. In Eastern Europe, this was a major issue because people in the region tend to smoke and drink heavily. When these regulations were introduced, they generated significant resistance, partly because they required investments in ventilation systems and imposed additional costs on the hospitality sector.

It is therefore very easy to take a directive that is actually quite straightforward—there is no serious debate about the health benefits of non-smoking—and politicize it by claiming that Europe is imposing laws that contradict local culture or create unnecessary financial burdens.

So again, I would interpret the cautious remarks he makes about sovereignty and Bulgaria asserting its proper role within the European Union as reflecting a hidden Euroskeptic and pro-Russian agenda.

Dictators Are Not Born, They Become Dictators

Many observers compare Radev to Viktor Orbán or Robert Fico, while others argue he is more ideologically flexible and strategically ambiguous. In comparative terms, where would you place Radev within the broader family of contemporary European populist leaders?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: I would agree with the argument that he is much more flexible and ideologically unbound. He is a political survivor, so I do not think we would immediately see an Orbán-type figure in Radev. But again, we should not forget that Orbán became who he is over the course of several decades. In the late 1980s, before the collapse of communism, Orbán was strongly criticizing the communist regime and was among the first to give a pro-NATO speech. Orbán became a dictator over time.

And this is important to note here: dictators are never born; dictators become dictators. When Erdoğan first came to power, he was not a dictator. Even when Putin first won elections, he was not a dictator. What happens is that once leaders gain power and begin accumulating more and more control, their willingness to relinquish that control declines very sharply. Most of the dictators we see today actually began as democratically elected leaders. They started that way and then gradually chipped away at democratic mechanisms.

So, for Radev to become an Orbán-type figure, it would take time, even if that is ultimately where he is headed. But I do agree that he is much more ideologically flexible and less rigid than either Orbán or Fico.

If I were to place him within the broader European landscape, especially in the absence of Orbán, I would say that he would probably resemble Fico, though not as firmly positioned. The moment Orbán was no longer there, the €90 billion aid package to Ukraine was immediately approved. So Fico standing alone is not the same as Fico standing together with Orbán. Yes, Fico was the only European leader to attend the May 9 parade in Moscow, but he has not voted as aggressively within the European Union as Orbán has.

So, I would expect Radev to subvert European politics where possible, but he would not dare to do so as explicitly as Orbán has done. Partly, this is because he still does not have a fully consolidated party structure or support base in Bulgaria, and he would risk once again bringing people into the streets in protest.

Replacing Figureheads Does Not Dismantle State Capture

Bulgaria has long suffered from what many analysts describe as “captured institutions,” oligarchic patronage networks, and weak judicial independence. Do you believe Progressive Bulgaria possesses the institutional depth and political discipline necessary for genuine democratic reconstruction, or is there a risk that anti-corruption rhetoric merely legitimizes a new configuration of centralized power?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: People are cautiously hopeful that he at least has the motivation to dismantle that model, even if he may not yet possess the institutional resources to do so. However, one of the first votes in Parliament by his new majority—an absolute majority, something Bulgaria has not seen in many years—was, in fact, a vote against investigating Borisov and Peevski.

Some analysts argue that Bulgaria first needs a chief prosecutor before any serious investigation can begin, and that Radev is being strategic by delaying investigations until the judicial system and the prosecutor’s office are cleaned up. I remain very skeptical of that argument.

On the other hand, he did retain the General Secretary of the Interior Ministry, who distinguished himself by cleaning up the ministry within just a few months, removing individuals involved in electoral manipulation, and, together with the Interior Minister and the caretaker Prime Minister, organizing what was probably the fairest and most transparent election in Bulgaria’s post-communist history.

So, on the one hand, I do think there is some genuine desire to combat corruption among many of the people who joined Radev’s project, even if not necessarily from Radev himself, including some of the individuals he is now appointing to key positions. Institutionally, however, the challenge is extremely difficult. Simply removing people would not solve the problem. Constitutional reforms require a supermajority, and we already saw under the previous GERB, DPS, and Democratic Bulgaria majority that constitutional reforms did pass, but they were very poorly designed to address corruption in any meaningful way.

So, I do believe, certainly, there is some genuine political will. At the same time, however, there are many obstacles. There will also be enormous pressure from oligarchic circles to preserve the system simply by replacing one figurehead with another, while continuing to operate through behind-the-scenes deals and informal arrangements. The temptation will therefore be very strong, and it will become a real ethical test for every individual in every position whether they will be able to resist.

Progressive Bulgaria Fits the Classic Populist Formula

Boiko Borisov, leader of the center-right GERB party, during voting in Sofia, Bulgaria, on October 5, 2014. Photo: Julia Lazarova / Dreamstime.

Your research on Bulgarian populism highlights the role of personalist parties and informal political mechanisms. To what extent does Progressive Bulgaria represent another iteration of Bulgaria’s recurring cycle of charismatic anti-establishment movements that mobilize frustration but struggle to institutionalize durable democratic governance?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: Progressive Bulgaria fits the perfect recipe for winning elections through a personalist, populist, anti-establishment appeal. What is really interesting—and what scholars have only recently started examining more rigorously—is not how populist parties win. We already know that formula. The more important question is why some of them survive while others disappear so quickly.

If we look at the Bulgarian case, why was it that Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha’s party and the NDSV did not survive for more than eight years, while Boyko Borisov’s party has endured for almost twenty years? And let us not forget, GERB is still not finished—it remains the second-largest party in Parliament.

So, the key question regarding Radev is how quickly this new party will be able to establish local structures. If we examine the GERB example, we can distinguish between two types of local structures. One consists of entirely legitimate local branches, ranging from youth organizations to various municipal party organizations that legitimately mobilize voters, recruit candidates, and so forth.

The second, however, is GERB’s ability to engage in pork-barrel politics by distributing EU funds, legal protection, and other advantages to local businesses. Those businesses then remain loyal and deliver votes through what is known in Bulgaria as “corporate voting.” This differs from direct vote-buying, where individuals are simply paid to vote. In the corporate voting model, entire companies effectively vote for a given party because management instructs employees to do so. And management does so because it benefits from favorable treatment, contracts, and protection from government sanctions.

So, the real question is whether Rumen Radev will be able to establish a local presence, what type of local presence he will build, and how quickly he can do so. It is clear that he has swept the national vote. It is also clear that he can probably attract some of the strongest local supporters from existing party structures and convert them into supporters of Progressive Bulgaria.

But building local networks was one of GERB’s greatest strengths. Borisov’s longtime second-in-command, Tsvetan Tsvetanov, essentially replicated military- and police-style organizational networks in constructing the party’s local structures. He was extremely skilled at doing that. I do not know whether Radev has someone capable of performing a similar role for him.

Radev Balances Electoral, Geopolitical, and Ideological Interests

Radev has repeatedly criticized military support for Ukraine while simultaneously insisting that Bulgaria will remain committed to its European path. Is this strategic ambiguity primarily ideological, geopolitical, or electoral in nature?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: Actually, it is probably a combination of all three. Electorally speaking, he can simultaneously appeal to fears of Bulgaria being dragged into the war, to pro-Russian sentiments, and, of course, to the strong pro-European sentiments held by the majority of the Bulgarian population. So, electorally, this positioning is certainly advantageous.

Geostrategically, he genuinely believes he can be the clever actor who secures cheap Russian gas and oil while also benefiting from European funds at the same time. And he is not the first to think this way. Borisov believed something similar before him. Erdoğan also positioned himself as a mediator between Russia and the European Union. And let us not forget that Germany, under Angela Merkel, practiced this approach for decades—benefiting from cheap Russian gas and maintaining bilateral relations with Putin while simultaneously serving as a pillar of the European Union. So, geostrategically speaking, one could argue that this is not necessarily a foolish strategy; it may, in fact, be a clever one.

Ideologically, again, Radev is very flexible. But I do think he has a profound appreciation for Russia’s power and its historical ability to withstand external attacks and survive. Certainly, Russia and the Soviet Union lost many wars, but they did not lose wars fought on their own territory. Whether we look at Napoleon or Hitler during World War II, no one was able to defeat Russia on its own soil. Of course, it is a different matter when Russia fought in Afghanistan, Chechnya, Georgia, and, most recently, Ukraine.

So, I do think he harbors some genuine admiration for the Russian military tradition. And, this is one aspect of his ideological worldview that I would emphasize, even though his views remain much more flexible than those of hardline pro-Russian politicians.

Bulgarian Russophilia Has Deep Historical Roots

Demonstration commemorating May 9, Russia’s Victory Day over Nazi Germany, with participants expressing their emotions and displaying slogans in Sofia, Bulgaria, on May 9, 2022. Photo: Yulian Staykov.

How do you interpret the persistence of pro-Russian sentiment in Bulgaria despite the country’s integration into NATO, Schengen, and the eurozone? To what extent is this sentiment rooted in historical memory, cultural affinity, energy dependency, economic insecurity, or disappointment with liberal democratic elites?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: You listed all of the reasons, so let me say a few things about each of them. The historical legacy is very strong. Bulgaria is an Orthodox, Slavic country that speaks a language very similar to Russian. During the Russo-Turkish War of 1876–78, Russian soldiers fought side by side with Bulgarian fighters to secure Bulgaria’s independence from the Ottoman Empire.

When the Red Army crossed the Danube in 1944, it was certainly what many historians—and large parts of the population—would describe as an outright Soviet invasion. But many people also saw it as yet another liberation of Bulgaria, this time from fascism. Then, of course, there were 45 years of Soviet-backed communist rule, which brought industrialization to the country and improved living standards for many people, especially those living outside the large cities.

At the outset of communist rule, Bulgaria was around 70 percent agrarian, and it emerged from communism as a country that was roughly 70 percent industrialized. People who had lived in villages without indoor plumbing or running water suddenly gained privileged access to universities in major cities. So, the social stratification of society was fundamentally reshaped. Many people therefore support Russia because of the communist legacy, historical ties, and linguistic affinity.

Others support Russia because of economic interests, especially in tourism. Bulgaria receives a large number of Russian tourists, and many people along the Black Sea coast depend economically on that tourism sector. They therefore feel genuinely anxious when geopolitical developments threaten the ability of Russian tourists to travel to Bulgaria.

And then, of course, there is the energy sector. Before the war in Ukraine, Bulgaria’s dependence on Russian gas was around 90 percent. This dependence has since fallen to below 40 percent because of sanctions, European policies, and external pressure—mostly external pressure rather than internal willingness. Nevertheless, people remain highly sensitive to energy prices. Energy costs in Bulgaria are much higher as a percentage of income—and often even in absolute terms—than in many Western European countries. Part of this is due to the country’s long-term dependence on a single supplier, as well as the lack of diversification and investment in green energy.

People become anxious very easily because they understand that once energy prices rise, everything else becomes more expensive as well. So, this is a complex combination of factors, with different elements playing different roles for different people. In the current context, uncertainty and inflation are probably more important than cultural arguments, but the historical and cultural dimensions should certainly not be underestimated either.

Bulgaria Could Become a Softer Voice for Moscow

Some analysts argue that Bulgaria risks becoming Moscow’s new “voice” inside the European Union after Orbán’s defeat in Hungary. Do you consider such fears exaggerated, or do you see the emergence of a broader East-Central European bloc seeking to challenge the EU consensus on Ukraine, sanctions, energy, and strategic autonomy?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: I do think that Rumen Radev would try to challenge the consensus when it comes to Russia, sanctions on Russia, and especially energy policies affecting Russian oil and gas. He would have Fico as an ally in that regard.

We need to remember, however, that he can only do this at the level of the EU Council and meetings of heads of state and foreign ministers. He cannot do this in the European Parliament, because there are still another three years until the next European parliamentary elections. By that time, who knows whether his party will still be in power and whether, in the 2029 elections, he will be able to secure a strong presence in the European Parliament.

So, his ability to influence the broader European agenda will be somewhat limited, but he will certainly try to challenge the existing consensus. At the same time, Bulgaria remains highly dependent on EU funds. The idea that these funds could somehow be replaced by Russian support would be catastrophic in terms of maintaining popular support within Bulgaria.

Bulgaria Stands Between Reform and Hybrid Rule

Finally, Bulgaria now seems to stand at a crossroads between democratic stabilization and the possibility of a softer, more sophisticated form of hybrid governance. What indicators should scholars and European policymakers watch most carefully during Radev’s first year in office to determine whether Bulgaria is moving toward democratic renewal—or toward a new model of populist state capture?

Assoc. Prof. Emilia Zankina: Fortunately, one very important indicator we need to watch is the ability of the opposition to remain united and provide a coherent alternative through parliamentary debates, upcoming local elections, and so forth. The first thing that happened after Radev’s victory, however, was that the largest opposition force, Democratic Bulgaria, split into its component parts. So, this is not particularly encouraging.

The other major opposition party is GERB, which is also problematic because it is currently behaving in a very neutral and very cunning way. Borisov, for example, did not vote against the new government. When the government was approved on Friday, he abstained, and his party abstained as well. Borisov is very smart and very experienced. He is a strong political animal, as we say. So, he will likely pursue a very calculated strategy of waiting for Radev to commit a faux pas, especially on European issues, and then step in and say: “You see, I respected the will of the people. You wanted a consolidated government, but it turned out not to be a truly pro-European government, and GERB remains the only genuine pro-European force.”

So, Borisov will probably be more successful than the fragmented parts of Democratic Bulgaria, which are now divided into separate formations instead of remaining in coalition. They performed pitifully, both electorally and in terms of their internal politics. And it is a shame, because they were really the mobilizing force behind the latest anti-government protests, yet all of that energy went to waste, and Radev was able to capitalize on it while PP completely lost it. I am afraid that their political inexperience and naivety caused them a major political defeat.