Photo: Dreamstime.

What Is the Ideology That Has Attained Social Hegemony? Let Us Call It Simply “Nativism”

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceEuropean ObservatoryHomeMigration

In this thought-provoking commentary, Dr. João Ferreira Dias argues that the dominant ideology underpinning contemporary right-wing movements is not populism or illiberalism, but nativism—a worldview centered on defending the “native” population against perceived external and internal threats. Drawing on theorists such as Cas Mudde, Ernesto Laclau, and Fareed Zakaria, Dr. Dias shows that while populism offers the form of political antagonism (“the people” versus “the elites”), nativism provides its substance: the protection of cultural and demographic identity against globalization and multiculturalism. Dr. Dias concludes that nativism’s emotional and existential appeal—rooted in fear of the “other” and longing for cultural homogeneity—has achieved social hegemony across much of the West.

By João Ferreira Dias

We often speak of populism, the radical right, or illiberalism. Yet, to truly understand the rise and entrenchment of the contemporary right, we may need to shift our analytical lens toward nativism. What unites right-wing populist leaders with individuals such as Mr. Armando, the bakery owner; Ms. Aurora, a civil servant; Uncle Venâncio, a retiree; or José Maria, a private school student, is not a coherent philosophical conception of the state. It is something more elemental and psychological: the belief that globalization and multiculturalism—especially in the form of immigration—are dismantling national identities.

When radical right-wing populism first emerged, it proved difficult to classify. While it drew from the Nouvelle Droite (Taguieff, 1993), it also contained a performative, mobilizing dimension, and a radicalism based on the division of society into “us” and “them.”

Cas Mudde (2007), a leading scholar in the field, defined this populism as a “thin-centered ideology,” rooted in the binary logic of “the pure people” versus “the corrupt elites.” Ernesto Laclau (2005), in contrast, identified populism as a political logic—a way of constructing the political—rather than a specific ideological content.

Generally, the radical right populism of recent decades rests on a threefold structure: (i) the moral division between the “pure people” and the “corrupt elites”; (ii) the defense of national identity against multiculturalism; and (iii) the combat against the political left, viewed as conspiring against Western values and the traditional family.

From a governmentality perspective, Fareed Zakaria (1997) introduced the concept of “illiberal democracy” to describe regimes that maintain electoral institutions while eroding liberal principles: consolidating power in a charismatic executive, weakening checks and balances, politicizing the judiciary, and overriding constitutional limits in the name of majority will.

However, illiberalism, in my view, is either inextricably tied to the radical right, or it remains conceptually ambiguous. In fact, the radical left also exhibits illiberal tendencies—engaging in practices such as censorship or moral cancellation—but in favor of minorities and a coercive form of progressive social purification, rather than a majoritarian ethos. This suggests that illiberalism is not exclusive to the right, nor is it sufficient to describe its ideological nucleus.

The term nativism, although first used in 19th-century America to describe anti-immigration movements such as the Know Nothings or the Ku Klux Klan, reemerged in modern academic discourse in the 1950s, particularly through John Higham’s Strangers in the Land (1955). In that work, Higham captures the sense of alienation experienced by native populations facing rapid demographic and cultural transformation.

In the 1990s, as scholarly attention to populism intensified, Paul Taggart and Hans-Georg Betz argued that modern right-wing populism was characterized by a fusion of three elements: populism, nativism, and authoritarianism (Betz, 1994; Taggart, 2000). In the following decade, Cas Mudde (2007) identified nativism as the core ideology of these parties, and populism as their political form. Later refinements clarified this conceptual division: populism provides the structure—the antagonism between “the people” and “the elites”—while nativism offers the content, namely the opposition between natives and foreigners (Mudde & Rovira Kaltwasser, 2017).

This clarification substantiates the central argument of this essay: that nativism should be analyzed as an ideology. Let us consider why.

First, the populist discourse of “us” versus “them” is not exclusive to the radical right. It is equally present on the radical left, which often constructs a similar dichotomy between “the people” and “the elites,” or between the “majority” and “minorities.” The difference lies in the subject being defended and the identity politics at play, rather than in the structure of the discourse.

Second, the radical right is not uniformly illiberal. It exhibits significant internal variation. Many such parties and movements are illiberal with respect to morality—advocating traditionalist or exclusionary cultural values—while remaining economically liberal. Others, though equally illiberal in terms of cultural values (a sine qua non), adopt statist economic models, defending welfare policies but restricting their benefits to the native population. Thus, illiberalism is not a constant across the radical right, but nativism is. It constitutes the shared ideological foundation that allows for otherwise divergent policy positions.

This is why it may be more accurate and analytically fruitful to define these movements simply as nativist, and their ideology as nativism. This classification applies to both political elites and voters alike.

At its core, the ideology’s resonance lies in the perceived demographic threat, most radically articulated in Renaud Camus’ “Great Replacement” theory. This idea has circulated widely, in varying intensities and local adaptations, across Western societies. As native populations decline demographically—due to lower birth rates—and immigration brings culturally distinct newcomers, a so-called “perfect demographic storm” is formed: the “demographic winter” of the native population collides with the “demographic summer” of incoming groups.

The result is a growing sense of existential threat, particularly toward Muslim immigrants, who are seen as both culturally incompatible and demographically ascendant. This sense of threat fuels resentment toward multiculturalism and the progressive left, which is often held responsible for promoting it. What emerges is a feeling of estrangement in one’s own homeland—a central affective dimension of modern nativism.

In sum, the ideology that has achieved social hegemony in many Western societies today is best understood not as populism or illiberalism, but as nativism: a worldview centered on the defense of the native population’s perceived interests, identity, and territorial integrity. Those who support nativist movements are not primarily mobilized by economic platforms, but by a profound distrust of the “other.” This “other” is not necessarily blamed for stealing jobs, but for competing for scarce welfare resources—access to schools, healthcare, housing—or even for altering the cultural landscape of spaces that once symbolized familiarity and social cohesion.

Biology reminds us that the presence of the “other” is often the most basic trigger in the formation of the “we.” Thus, what we are witnessing is not merely populism or illiberalism, but nativism at its core—an instinctive social reaction which, when politicized, seeks to defend what is perceived as the homeland (the nation) and protect those considered its rightful heirs.

 

References

Betz, H.-G. (1994). Radical Right-Wing Populism in Western Europe. Palgrave Macmillan.

Higham, J. (1955). Strangers in the Land: Patterns of American Nativism, 1860–1925. Rutgers University Press.

Laclau, E. (2005). On Populist Reason. Verso.

Mudde, C. (2007). Populist Radical Right Parties in Europe. Cambridge University Press.

Mudde, C., & Rovira Kaltwasser, C. (2017). Populism: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press.

Taggart, P. (2000). Populism. Open University Press.

Taguieff, P. A. (1993). Origines et métamorphoses de la nouvelle droite. Vingtieme siecle. Revue d’histoire, 3-22.

Zakaria, F. (1997). The Rise of Illiberal Democracy. Foreign Affairs, 76(6), 22–43.

Chairman of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) Imran Khan addresses a press conference in Islamabad on April 20, 2016. Photo: Jahanzaib Naiyyer.

Popular, Not Populist? Imran Khan and the Civil–Military Grammar of Populism in Pakistan

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceGenderHomeLeadership & Persona

In this incisive commentary, feminist scholar Afiya S. Zia dissects the myth that Imran Khan is “popular, not populist.” Drawing on theorists such as Laclau, Mudde, and Moffitt, Zia argues that Khan’s politics exemplify moral populism: a performative style that fuses piety, masculinity, and nationalism while eroding democratic substance. His rhetoric of virtue and victimhood, she shows, mirrors the Pakistani military’s own moral lexicon of sacrifice and honor, blurring the line between civilian populism and authoritarianism. From symbolic austerity to digital disinformation, Khan’s rule delivered moral spectacle but little structural reform. Zia concludes that his populism—like its global counterparts—offers redemption without reform, transforming faith into a tool of power and consuming democracy in the process.

By Afiya S. Zia*

Recently, the official X account of Pakistan’s emergent third party, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), retweeted a supporter’s claim that its leader, “Imran Khan is popular, not populist – his leadership is based on merit, service, and people’s trust, not division or demagoguery.” The statement came amid a charged political atmosphere following Pakistan’s 2024 general elections, marred by allegations of manipulation, the disqualification and imprisonment of Khan, and the reversal of several victories claimed by PTI-backed independents.

Both domestic and international observers noted that the elections were neither free nor fair. In this context of curtailed democracy and contested legitimacy, PTI’s distinction between popularity and populism must be read not as analytical precision but as political self-defense – a claim to moral authenticity and victimhood.

The denial is itself revealing. Theorists such as Ernesto Laclau, Cas Mudde and Benjamin Moffitt have shown that populism is not a coherent ideology but a moralized style of politics. It divides the world into the virtuous “people” and a corrupt “elite” and performs rather than governs. By this definition, Khan’s rhetoric and political persona are unmistakably populist, even as his followers insist otherwise.

The Populist Grammar of Authenticity

From his entry into politics in the 1990s, Khan crafted an image of moral exceptionalism: a national athlete and hero who transcended Pakistan’s dynastic, corrupt politics but never actually politicked, at either constituency or national legislative levels. His signature slogan of naya Pakistan (a “new Pakistan”) offered a redemptive promise of national purification but based on his self-admitted personal turn from a lifestyle of westernized decadence to pious moral virtue, rather than institutional reform.

Khan’s supporters often cite his philanthropic project of the cancer hospital he founded in 1994, as proof that his politics are altruistic rather than populist. Yet, as Jan-Werner Müller observes, populists do not simply appeal to “the people”; they claim exclusive moral representation of them. Of course, there are many altruistic philanthropists in Pakistan, but Khan’s own rhetoric claims that only he is incorruptible enough to save the country.

The 2018 election that brought PTI to power was no popular revolution. It was shaped by judicial disqualification of a PM, backroom military support, the defection of ‘electable’ politicians from rival parties and, newly propped ones. The same military that Khan would later denounce as tyrannical helped secure his ascent to power. Once in office, he engaged in the same symbolic austerities that typify global populism: auctioning state-owned luxury cars, selling buffaloes from the Prime Minister’s House, and promising to turn colonial-era governor mansions into public parks.

Like Donald Trump’s televised reconstruction of the White House, or Narendra Modi’s ascetic imagery of revivalist Hinduism, or Erdogan’s mosque-conversion paternalism, Khan’s performances were not economic policy but moral theatre – staged to show distance from the ‘corrupt elite,’ ‘legacy media,’ or khooni (bloodthirsty) liberals. In Moffitt’s terms, Khan governed through performative crisis: each political setback became proof of his own virtue and of the system’s moral decay.

The Homo Islamicus Persona

Khan’s charisma models itself on the figure of homo Islamicus – the morally regenerated Muslim leader who derives authority not from democratic process but divine virtue and nationalist purity. Vedi R. Hadiz argues that the rise of the new Islamic populism in the Muslim world is but a mirror image of the rise of populist tendencies in the West. I track how Khan’s moralized masculinity fuses religiosity, nationalism, and populist virtue —a model of leadership also visible in Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan, who combines piety with patriarchy—but Khan’s version lacks a coherent alternative policy or economic vision.

Khan’s rejection of “Western feminism,” his warnings about “vulgarity” and “sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” and his invocation of an abstract ghairat (honour) are not incidental conservatisms. They are central to a moral populism that imagines the nation as a family, with the leader as its patriarch. Women in this framework are symbols of purity and faith rather than political subjects, an ideal he often upholds in his current fully veiled and pious wife, Bushra Imran.

Like other populists, Khan cultivated a large, devoted, and cross-generational female following, rooted in the intertwining of his athletic masculine charisma and paternalistic image. Many women view him as a moral guide capable of protecting their dignity and rights, often leading to family tensions and highly visible political polarization, especially on social media and within military households. This admiration motivated female supporters to participate in daring street protests, such as the May 2023 Lahore rally, where women boldly confronted police, mocked military generals, and faced repeated arrests with unwavering commitment. They demonstrated political courage even as senior PTI leaders distanced themselves. 

Khan’s transformation from celebrity cricketer to spiritual-political leader exemplifies what Dani Filc describes as the “inclusionary–exclusionary” spectrum of populism: while appealing to urban middle-class women and educated elites, he marginalizes groups like Ahmadis, Hazaras, opposition politicians/constituent holders, critical journalists, and feminists. Critics denounce his patriarchal rhetoric, majoritarian bias, and victim-blaming statements on sexual violence, yet supporters defend him for his moral simplicity and protection of women at political events.

This gendered populism both empowers and constrains women’s political engagement. While it inspires unprecedented acts of defiance against the military establishment, it simultaneously reinforces conservative gender norms, framing governance in terms of Islamic virtue rather than liberal democracy. Urban, middle to upper-middle-class female PTI activists often interpret Khan’s patriotism, piety, and defiance of Western powers as moral leadership, seeing him as a surrogate father or protector. Their allegiance centers more on his persona than policy innovations. 

Unlike Benazir Bhutto’s empathetic, liberal-rights-based appeal, Khan commands female support while reinforcing patriarchal norms – a pattern consistent with male populists globally. Ultimately, Khan’s piety-driven populism reshapes Pakistan’s discourse on women and democracy, combining the empowerment of select women with the reinforcement of traditional, conservative gender hierarchies, marking a post-feminist turn not unlike the Trump supporting, TradWives movement.

Rebranding as Moral Renewal

A central populist tactic is to rebrand existing institutions as moral innovations. Khan’s renaming of Pakistan’s flagship social protection initiative, the Benazir Income Support Programme (BISP) as Ehsaas, exemplifies this pattern. The rebranding erased the legacy of a female predecessor, taking credit for a recast state policy as a personal act of virtue.

Similar strategies appear elsewhere; Nayib Bukele in El Salvador folded earlier social welfare programs into his “New Ideas” brand; Andrés Manuel López Obrador reframed Mexico’s anti-poverty programs as part of his “Fourth Transformation.” These moves transform bureaucratic continuity into revelation and give the illusion that old policies are purified through the filter of the leader’s sincerity.

In Pakistan, this moralization of governance is amplified through religion. Poverty alleviation becomes an act of zakat (almsgiving), not redistribution; social policy is sanctified through Islamic ethics. In this sense, piety populism does not replace the state, it sacralizes it, for which there is no stable measure nor standard of accountability. 

Populism as Civil–Military Mirror

Khan’s populism has often been cast as the antidote to Pakistan’s entrenched military dominance. Yet the two are not opposites; they are mirror images. Both draw legitimacy from moral spectacle and claims of masculine benevolence and sacrifice. Both substitute masculine charisma for institutional accountability or the deepening of democratic collaboration and norms.

After Khan’s ouster in 2022 through a parliamentary vote of no-confidence, he recast himself as the moral redeemer betrayed by a corrupt establishment and ‘treacherous’ generals who retracted their initial support. This shift turned the civil–military conflict into a populist morality play, complete with pejorative references to traitors in Islamic historical tradition, a contest between rival saviors.

His falling out with Army Chief General Javed Bajwa dramatized this contest for moral and political supremacy, later extending to a confrontation with Justice Qazi Faez Isa, poised to become the next Chief Justice, and then with the ascetic and pietist General Asim Munir, who adopted a “zero-tolerance” stance toward PTI protests. Khan’s political ego, shaped by a messianic sense of virtue, left little room for institutional peers/equals. General Munir’s clampdown after Khan’s ouster in 2022 was rationalized as a defense of order, national dignity, and morale, echoing Khan’s own rhetoric of honor, self-belief, and betrayal. The rivalry has persisted after the 2024 elections and ongoing protests by PTI. This tension reached its symbolic peak in May 2025 when India launched a stealth “Operation Sindhoor,” against Pakistan, named after the Hindu symbol of marital devotion as nationalist metaphor. Pakistan’s military response, led by Munir, was saturated in the usual masculine imagery: shaheed (martyr), izzat (honor), and ghazi (holy warrior) and his televised pledge that ‘the sons of Pakistan will defend the honor of our mothers and sisters’ epitomized how both militarism and populism mobilize gendered virtue as political currency.

Social media in Pakistan, dominated by Gen Z users, mocked India’s media frenzy and celebrated Pakistan’s ‘calm victory’ with younger women enamored by the officers who led the Air Force in downing several Indian planes. Yet, as ever, the outcome was an uneasy one: the military emerged re-legitimized, Khan remained imprisoned, and populism simply migrated from civilian to khaki uniform.

Myths of Popular Not Populist

Consider the PTI’s retweet, which encapsulates five claims central to Imran Khan’s carefully cultivated mythos—portraying him as “popular, not populist.” First, it insisted that Khan is genuinely popular rather than populist. However, his rhetoric consistently divides society into “the pure” versus “the corrupt,” mobilizing moral legitimacy over institutional authority – a hallmark of populism. 

Second, the tweet claimed that Khan was not a creation of the army. In reality, his rise in 2018 was facilitated by judicial manipulation, military engineering, and rogue officers. Even if he later distanced himself from these institutions, this is no different from what rival political leaders have done historically. Rather than erasing such inconvenient histories, civilian leaders who take refuge behind military intervention must be monitored in the future.

Third, Khan is presented as anti-West, yet his critique existed alongside ongoing IMF negotiations and deep engagement with elite global networks, reflecting a selective post-colonial posture. 

Fourth, he is framed as selfless rather than narcissistic, though his populist appeal is replete with iconography, self-aggrandizement, and personal branding (‘I am Democracy,’ ‘I know xxx better than anyone else…’). He also remains guilty of relying on electable elites and the same familial involvement in party matters that are criticized in other parties. There is little tolerance for PTI members who may disagree with Khan or offer any competitive stance which reveals authoritarian tendencies. 

Finally, the unproven claim that he is open to compromise masks the fact that his politics thrive on intransigence—treating all dissent as betrayal (except his own) and viewing negotiation with the opposition or the establishment as weakness (except when dealing with the Taliban, even as it attacks Pakistan and inflicts injustices on the Afghan people). PTI’s mastery of trolling opponents, manufacturing fake news, and leading misinformation campaigns as a new form of politics in Pakistan is also overlooked in such sanitized analyses.

Far from disproving populism, these claims actually reinforce it. As Nadia Urbinati observes in Me the People, populism thrives on contradiction, converting apparent inconsistencies into signs of authenticity. Each denial, each assertion of moral exceptionality strengthens Khan’s narrative, reinforcing the image of a leader whose legitimacy rests less on institutions than on his constructed persona. Ironically, the validity of such claims is often on how he is internationally well-known or accepted by the West.

Populism on Empty

From prison, Khan continues to embody what Moffitt calls the performative style of populism—governing through crisis, redemption, claims of torture, and demands for exceptional treatment, even in the absence of office. His courtroom appearances in a supposed bulletproof bucket over his head, viral statements, and ritualized piety function as forms of affective governance from afar.

Yet his tenure in power offered no structural reform: economic stagnation persisted, media freedoms eroded, and minority persecution continued unchecked. His government extended the Army Chief’s tenure, criminalized dissent, and reinforced the surveillance state. The result is what might be called populism on empty and a politics of moral feeling without material change. It mobilizes faith but not reform and it personalizes virtue but not justice.

Imran Khan’s populism was not the negation of military rule but its civilian extension. Both rely on the same moral lexicon of piety, sacrifice, and masculine honor to assert legitimacy in a fractured polity. His electoral legitimacy in 2024 cannot be denied; he was a democratically elected leader who mobilized genuine discontent. Yet his politics squandered democratic energy because he is driven by claims of individual glory, empty rhetoric and not delivery. Claims of refusing to host US bases with an emphatic ‘Absolutely Not’ to a hypothetical question by a journalist and not as an actual matter of policy reality, exemplifies the kind of mythologizing that only a populist can maneuver. 

In Pakistan, as across the world, populism has become the grammar of both power and resistance. It is not a rupture from authoritarianism but its reinvention through the idioms of faith and virtue. The contest between Khan and Munir is less about democracy than about rival masculinities with each claiming to embody divine authenticity.

In the end, the PTI’s insistence that Khan is “popular, not populist” collapses under its own logic. Popularity is contingent and plural; populism claims moral monopoly. Khan’s “merit” was moral, not technocratic; his “service” symbolic, not structural; his defiance was personal not a questioning of power.

Imran Khan’s populism, like its global counterparts, offers moral redemption without reform—a politics of virtue that feeds on crisis and ultimately consumes democracy itself. At the very least, it recalibrates and compels all politics to thrust towards the Right end of the political spectrum.

For civilian democracy to prevail in Pakistan, all sides must abandon the language of contempt (libtards, patwaris, youthias, and cultists) that sustains populist polarization. A new politics demands both the recognition of PTI’s electoral legitimacy and respect for shifting electoral demographics, and for the ruling coalition to relinquish its reliance on military brokerage. In turn, the PTI needs to temper its cultic populism with constitutional humility, pluralism, and respect for critical media and civil society – starting with more honest political introspection rather than social media driven slurs and insults.

(*) Afiya S. Zia (PhD) is a feminist scholar and author of Faith and Feminism in Pakistan (Liverpool University Press, 2018). She has written extensively on gender, religion, democracy, and populism in South Asia. 

Engineers conducting research at a solar energy R&D center. Photo: Dreamstime.

Creative Destruction or Destructive Consolidation? Nobel Reflections on Growth Under Populism

by AuthoritarianismCommentariesEconomicsEditor’s ChoiceHome

This commentary examines the tension between authoritarian populism and innovation-driven growth, drawing on the insights of Nobel laureates Joel Mokyr, Philippe Aghion, and Peter Howitt. Their research highlights that sustainable prosperity relies on creative destruction, institutional openness, and freedom of inquiry. In contrast, authoritarian populism undermines these conditions by eroding pluralism, legal stability, and academic autonomy. Using comparative cases such as China, Turkey, Hungary, and Poland, Professor Ibrahim Ozturk shows how populist regimes politicize innovation systems, stifling long-term productivity. The essay concludes that innovation is not merely economic—it is institutional, cultural, and democratic. Without inclusive institutions and free knowledge systems, technological progress becomes extractive rather than transformative.

By Ibrahim Ozturk 

This commentary explores the fundamental tension between authoritarian populism and innovation-driven economic growth, drawing on the work of Nobel laureates Joel Mokyr, Philippe Aghion, and Peter Howitt. These scholars emphasize the critical role of knowledge, institutions, and creative destruction in fostering sustainable growth. In contrast, authoritarian populism undermines these pillars by eroding institutional openness, pluralism, and policy stability. Combining their contributions with insights from economists like Acemoglu and North, this commentary underlines that technological progress without institutional freedom becomes extractive rather than transformative. Innovation, therefore, is not solely an economic process—it is profoundly institutional, cultural, and democratic.

Innovation Ecosystems and the Foundations of Long-Term Growth 

The awarding of the 2025 Nobel Prize in Economics to Mokyr, Aghion, and Howitt comes at a pivotal moment, as authoritarian populism gains ground globally, including in liberal democracies like the United States and across Europe. This recognition is more than an academic endorsement; it serves as a warning against the populist trajectory—and as a call to reaffirm the institutional foundations necessary for long-term, inclusive prosperity. Together, these laureates have transformed our understanding of how innovation drives growth and why it depends critically on inclusive, resilient institutions. 

Joel Mokyr provides a historical and cultural framework, arguing that technological advancement arises not simply from material conditions, but from epistemic institutions—universities, protections for dissent, and a culture of inquiry that supports the creation and diffusion of knowledge. Philippe Aghion and Peter Howitt, meanwhile, formalized the process of innovation-led growth through their endogenous growth model, rooted in creative destruction. Their work illustrates how growth is generated when new technologies and firms continuously disrupt the old, enabled by competition, R&D investment, and enabling public policy. Their combined message is clear: Sustainable innovation cannot thrive without freedom of inquiry, legal stability, institutional independence, and competitive markets. When these are eroded, growth not only slows—it may become directionally regressive, channeling resources toward control rather than creativity.

Authoritarian Populism and the Threat to Innovation Institutions 

While the Nobel laureates underscore the importance of institutional infrastructure for innovation, the global rise of authoritarian populism presents a sharp countercurrent. Populism’s consolidation of executive power, erosion of checks and balances, and hostility toward expertise and dissent undermine the very systems that make innovation possible. This raises two fundamental questions: i) What can we learn from the intellectual legacy behind the 2025 Nobel Prize in an era of resurgent populism? ii) If our primary concern is sustainable and inclusive economic prosperity, what paths do the populist versus institutionalist frameworks each offer? 

The answers lie in the institutional costs of populism. Populist regimes, as Rodrik (2019) explains, often emerge from economic discontent and cultural anxiety—but they typically respond by concentrating authority and limiting contestation. This instinct directly conflicts with the unpredictability and disruption inherent in innovation.

How Populism Damages the Mechanisms of Creative Destruction 

Creative destruction, the engine of Aghion and Howitt’s growth model, is inherently destabilizing. It disrupts incumbents, transforms labor markets, and threatens established power structures—dynamics that populist regimes seek to resist. Though some argue that authoritarian populists could theoretically design innovation-friendly policies, empirical reality suggests otherwise. Populist leaders prioritize short-term visibility and control over long-term, uncertain processes like R&D. Consequently, megaprojects and state-industrial policies replace long-term innovation strategies. As Portuese (2021) notes, populists may even weaponize antitrust policy, using it to punish disloyal firms and protect politically connected monopolies—thereby cultivating a climate of fear and rent-seeking, not innovation. The erosion of judicial independence, university autonomy, and press freedom disables the feedback mechanisms essential for adaptive learning. As institutions hollow out, clientelist redistribution replaces competitive funding. Brezis and Young (2023) demonstrate how innovation systems under populist rule become politicized and inefficient, redirecting resources away from discovery and toward loyalty.

Empirical Evidence: Populism’s Innovation Deficit 

Numerous case studies support this idea: China, despite its strong state capacity, faces innovation stagnation at the frontier due to censorship, limited peer review, and politically driven science (To, 2022). While China has made significant advances in frontier technologies—ranging from electric vehicles and green energy to artificial intelligence and quantum computing—this progress exists alongside growing structural barriers. Recent reports by the Financial Times (2024) and the World Bank (2023) highlight a widening gap between technological investment and productivity results, indicating that innovation has become increasingly state-led but not more efficient.

The politicization of science limited academic independence, and the expanding influence of party committees within universities and tech companies has hindered the creativity and openness necessary for frontier innovation. Although China has surpassed the United States and the EU in patent volume and some industrial technologies, its overall total factor productivity growth has slowed sharply since the late 2010s, meaning that technological accumulation is not leading to widespread productivity gains. As Foreign Policy (2025) analysis points out, China’s innovation model now risks “technological involution,” where large R&D spending only reproduces existing ideas rather than creating breakthroughs; in short, centralized control can mobilize resources on a large scale but also limits the institutional diversity and critical inquiry that are essential for true creative disruption.

The situation in Turkey, Poland, and Hungary, which exhibits highly strong populist authoritarian hybrid governance mechanisms, shows a similar trend. Turkey’s shift toward authoritarianism after 2011 reversed earlier gains in R&D and scientific output as scientific governance became politicized (Apaydin, 2025). In Hungary and Poland, Ágh (2019) finds that populist leaders systematically undermined institutional independence, leading to stagnation in innovation indices despite EU integration. 

While Turkey’s R&D investment and publication output grew rapidly during the 2000s, the post-2011 erosion of academic autonomy—and particularly the post-2016 state-of-emergency decrees—triggered a systemic collapse in institutional freedom and international collaboration. Studies by the Freedom House (2023) and V-Dem Institute (2024) show Turkey’s academic freedom score falling to the bottom decile globally, coinciding with an 18–25% drop in publication activity and widespread self-censorship across universities. The World Bank (2023) further notes that this institutional degradation has curtailed the country’s innovation potential, as politicization redirected R&D spending from independent inquiry toward regime-aligned projects.

In Hungary, the Orbán government’s transformation of public universities into quasi-private “foundations” after 2020—where board members are appointed by the ruling Fidesz party—has drawn strong criticism from the European Commission (2022) and led to suspension of EU research funds under the Erasmus+ and Horizon Europe programs. According to the European Innovation Scoreboard (2024), Hungary remains a “Moderate Innovator,” showing stagnation or decline in scientific co-publications and R&D intensity.

Poland exhibits a similar trajectory: rule-of-law backsliding and politicization of the judiciary under the Law and Justice (PiS) government have weakened legal predictability and university independence. The Freedom House (2023) report documents a marked decline in judicial independence and civil liberties, while the European Innovation Scoreboard categorizes Poland as an “Emerging Innovator,” lagging behind EU averages in R&D expenditure and innovation outputs. 

Collectively, these cases demonstrate that while state-led development under populist or illiberal regimes may yield short-term industrial gains, it ultimately erodes the very institutional foundations—autonomy, rule of law, and international openness—upon which decentralized, pluralistic, and experimental innovation systems depend.

Institutional Resilience and the Direction of Innovation 

As Acemoglu and Johnson (2023) argue, innovation is not inherently progressive or welfare-enhancing. Its social impact depends on who funds it, controls it, and decides where it is applied. Under authoritarian populism, technological advancement often serves repression—surveillance, military tools, propaganda—rather than social welfare. By contrast, democratic and pluralistic systems encourage innovation aligned with public interest. Independent media, civil society, and open debate create a feedback-rich environment that improves allocative efficiency and mitigates risks. 

Importantly, innovation ecosystems are not simply clusters of firms and labs—they are institutional configurations that support curiosity, tolerate failure, and reward experimentation. Where expression is free, laws are predictable, and academia is autonomous, breakthrough innovation thrives. Conversely, populist regimes undermine all three. Furthermore, their nationalist isolationism curtails international collaboration, peer review, and talent mobility—all of which are essential for frontier innovation, especially in an era of global challenges like climate change and pandemics.

Conclusion: Innovation Requires Democracy, Market, and Competition 

The message from the 2025 Nobel Prize is unambiguous: Innovation is not merely an economic outcome—it is a political and institutional achievement. Prosperity does not arise from investment alone, but from the freedom to thought, challenge, and experiment. Where institutions collapse, innovation recedes. Where pluralism flourishes, discovery thrives. 

Authoritarian populism, by closing civic space and concentrating power, not only compromises democratic legitimacy—it dismantles the very foundations of long-term economic growth. As Acemoglu and Johnson warn, without inclusive institutions, innovation becomes a tool of control—not of emancipation. Thus, the future of progress lies not only in laboratories or startups, but also in constitutions, courts, and universities. Any society that seeks prosperity through innovation must first protect these spaces.

References

Acemoglu, D., & Johnson, S. (2023). “Power and progress: Our thousand-year struggle over technology and prosperity.” Public Affairs. https://www.publicaffairsbooks.com/titles/daron-acemoglu/power-and-progress/9781541702093/

Aghion, P., & Howitt, P. (1992). “A model of growth through creative destruction.” Econometrica, 60(2), 323–351. https://doi.org/10.2307/2951599

Ágh, A. (2019). Declining democracy in East-Central Europe: The divergence of Poland and Hungary. Edward Elgar Publishing. https://doi.org/10.4337/9781788972157

Apaydin, F. (2025). “Repression and growth in the periphery of Europe.” Competition & Change, 29(2), 150–175. https://journals.sagepub.com/home/cch

Brezis, E. S., & Young, D. (2023). “Authoritarian populism and innovation.” Innovation and Development. https://doi.org/10.1080/2157930X.2023.2205303

European Commission. (2022, December 22). Commission decides to request suspension of payments under Hungary cohesion programmes. https://commission.europa.eu/news/commission-decides-request-suspension-payments-under-hungary-cohesion-programmes-2022-12-22_en

European Commission. (2024). European innovation scoreboard 2024. https://ec.europa.eu/info/research-and-innovation/statistics/performance-indicators/european-innovation-scoreboard_en

Financial Times. (2024, May 15). “China’s innovation paradox.” Financial Times. https://www.ft.com/content/b44458cc-03fd-46a1-b003-b7a097419e66

Foreign Policy. (2025, October 10). “China’s tech push and the risk of stagnation.” Foreign Policy. https://foreignpolicy.com/2025/10/10/china-tech-ai-innovation-economy-stagnation/

Freedom House. (2023). Freedom in the World 2023: Turkey. https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2023/turkey

Freedom House. (2023). Freedom in the World 2023: Poland. https://freedomhouse.org/country/poland/freedom-world/2023

Mokyr, J. (2002). The gifts of Athena: Historical origins of the knowledge economy. Princeton University Press. https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691094830/the-gifts-of-athena

Nelson, R. R. (2017). “National innovation systems and institutional change.” Industrial and Corporate Change, 26(3), 499–511. https://doi.org/10.1093/icc/dtx015

North, D. C. (1990). Institutions, institutional change, and economic performance. Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511808678

Portuese, A. (2021). “Populism and the economics of antitrust”. In: M. Cavallaro & B. Moffitt (Eds.), The Palgrave handbook of populism (pp. 845–866). Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-80894-0_39

Rodrik, D. (2019). Why does populism thrive? CEPR Policy Insight No. 100. https://cepr.org/publications/policy-insight/why-does-populism-thrive

Romer, P. M. (1990). “Endogenous technological change.” Journal of Political Economy, 98(5 Pt 2), S71–S102. https://doi.org/10.1086/261725

To, Y. (2022). Contested development in China: Authoritarian state and industrial policy. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003206521

V-Dem Institute. (2024). Academic freedom index dataset v6. University of Gothenburg. https://v-dem.net/data_analysis/CountryGraph/?country=223&indicator=acad_free

World Bank. (2023). China economic update: December 2023. World Bank Group. https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/china/publication/china-economic-update-december-2023

World Bank. (2023). Turkey knowledge economy assessment. World Bank Group. https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/turkey/publication/knowledge-economy-assessment

Memorial for Charlie Kirk outside Turning Point USA Headquarters in Phoenix, Arizona, on September 13, 2025, following his fatal shooting while speaking at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. Photo: Dreamstime.

From the Tea Party to MAGA – How White Christian Nationalism Is Taking Control of the US

by AuthoritarianismCommentariesEditor’s ChoiceExtremism & RadicalisationHome

In this commentary, Dr. João Ferreira Dias traces the rise of white Christian nationalism from Nixon’s “Southern Strategy” and Reagan’s Moral Majority to the Tea Party and today’s MAGA movement. He argues that what appears as grassroots populism is, in fact, a carefully engineered project to transform fringe radicalism into a national force. Electoral restrictions, demographic anxieties, and evangelical mobilization have converged to produce a politics that is ever more exclusionary, authoritarian, and puritanical. Dr. Dias asks: Is MAGA truly the majority, or is it the triumph of minority rule through strategic manipulation?

By João Ferreira Dias

The Charlie Kirk Memorial was a turning point in the American ideological trajectory for the next decade, leaving the US in a state of social fracture only comparable to the civil rights era and the Vietnam War. We are witnessing the “great awakening” of nationalist evangelism, reminiscent of the peak of that authoritarian fusion between evangelical Christianity and political power in the 1930s, so vividly portrayed in the Perry Mason television series.

Indeed, Jason Stanley (2018) argued early on that Donald Trump revived the 1930s, precisely the period when fascist ideals were in vogue in the United States, with the cult of the “nation” and the strong leader, moral panic, and pamphleteering attacks against minorities and immigrants, as well as the cult of radically conservative religious values.

But is the MAGA movement truly a majority in the US, or are we witnessing a power grab by a minority through carefully engineered political strategy, with Trump serving merely as its face?

From a sociological perspective, there are clear demographic, cultural, and political changes fueling a socio-economic panic over the loss of social status—what Barbara Ehrenreich (1989) called the “fear of falling.” This has led to radicalization around ethnonationalist values, broadly classified in Political Science as nativism (see Art, 2022; Betz, 2019, 2017).

Nowhere has this shift been more evident than in the US, with a well-identified turning point: the civil rights movement, which transformed the Republican Party into what one of its strategists, Stuart Stevens, called the “de facto white party,”its key base being Southern whites, historically Democrats.

Richard Nixon and later Ronald Reagan capitalized on the Southern white vote with the rhetoric of “law and order.”Reagan went further by adding a Christian dimension to the white front, giving rise to the Moral Majority. From then on, the Republican Party was captured by what Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt (2024) call the “racially conservative base,” responding to demographic changes in the US from the 20th to the 21st century, as the white population fell to just 58% by 2020 and the proportion of non-white members of Congress quadrupled. A new racial order emerged in America, and the white majority entered into demographic and social panic, exacerbated by progressive shifts in American society.

With non-white Americans voting in growing numbers, Black voter turnout surpassed white turnout for the first time in US history in 2012. Faced with these profound changes, the Republican Party had two options: change its rhetoric/strategy or change the electoral map. It chose the latter. This was done through state-level legislative changes, such as requiring photo ID to vote, disproportionately affecting poor, Black, and Latino citizens—Blacks are twice as likely and Latinos three times as likely not to have photo identification. In Kentucky, Virginia, and Florida, those with a criminal record cannot vote, a maneuver that once again disproportionately impacts racial minorities, in a country marked by racialized incarceration and sentencing disparities. Additionally, attempts were made to pass laws shortening early voting and preventing election extensions in cases of long lines—measures struck down in court for deliberately targeting the African-American electorate.

Yet restrictions continued, with seven of the eleven states with majority African-American electorates and twelve states with majority Hispanic electorates adopting mechanisms that effectively disenfranchised these populations.

Amid demographic change, the Republican Party skillfully read and instrumentalized the fears of a shrinking white population. Many whites interpreted these demographic shifts, combined with changes in the social pyramid, as a threat. A 2015 poll found that 72% of white evangelicals believed America had changed for the worse since the 1960s, alongside another poll showing a growing perception of “anti-white prejudice.”

It was in this context that the Tea Party (Formisano, 2012) — a reactionary movement of mostly middle-aged white evangelicals — emerged in 2009 after Obama’s election, spreading quickly under the slogan of “taking the country back.” The old social order of Jim Crow laws (Tischauser, 2012) was remembered with nostalgia. The Tea Party’s social impact was crucial in shaping the MAGA movement, decisively rooting white Christian nationalism as a core identity marker of Republican politics in America.

Therefore, the answer to the question posed in this text is clear: we are witnessing an electoral and political engineering process that has transformed radicalized fringe electorates into a national electoral force, steering the country toward white Christian nationalism—ever more exclusionary, ever more puritanical, ever more authoritarian.

 

References

Art, D. (2022). “The myth of global populism.” Perspectives on Politics, 20(3), 999-1011.

Betz, H. G. (2019). “Facets of nativism: a heuristic exploration.” Patterns of Prejudice, 53(2), 111-135.

Betz, H. G. (2017). “Nativism across time and space.” Swiss Political Science Review, 23(4), 335-353.

Ehrenreich, B. (1989). Fear of falling: The inner life of the middle class. New York: Pantheon Books.

Formisano, R. P. (2012). The Tea Party: a brief history. JHU Press.

Levitsky, S., & Ziblatt, D. (2024). Tyranny of the minority: Why American democracy reached the breaking point. Random House.

Stanley, J. (2018). How fascism works: The politics of us and them. Random House Trade Paperbacks.

Tischauser, L. V. (2012). Jim crow laws. Bloomsbury Publishing USA.

Labour Party leader Sir Keir Starmer speaking and gesturing in the House of Commons, UK Parliament, at Westminster Palace in London, UK, on February 7, 2024. Photo: Tennessee Witney.

How Should Mainstream Parties Respond to Populism? The Internal Debates of Britain’s Labour Party under Starmer

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceHomeLeadership & PersonaVoice of Youth

When Keir Starmer denounced populism as a “snake oil charm” in July 2024, he became the first British Prime Minister to attack it so explicitly in a major parliamentary speech. Yet inside Labour, the strategy is contested. Should populism be called out as corrosive to democracy, or quietly disarmed by fixing everyday grievances? Starmer prefers direct confrontation; his strategist Morgan McSweeney stresses delivery — “potholes, not populism.” Luke Malhi’s interviews with MPs, aides, and journalists reveal a party caught between naming the threat and co-opting parts of its language to blunt Reform UK’s rise. The debate echoes dilemmas across Europe, underscoring a central question: how can mainstream parties defend institutions without alienating the voters populists claim to represent?

By Luke Malhi

On a warm July morning in 2024, as parliament resumed for the first time following the election, Keir Starmer stood at the dispatch box and denounced populism as a “snake oil charm” that promised easy answers but could deliver only division (Starmer, 2024a). It was the first time a British Prime Minister had attacked populism so explicitly in a set-piece moment of national politics. For some, it sounded like the steady voice of reason after years of turbulence. For others, it risked reinforcing the image of a detached mainstream elite who scold rather than persuade the most dissatisfied in society.

Behind the scenes, Labour figures admit the party is still working out how best to handle the populist threat presented by Reform UK, a populist radical right (PRR) party which secured 14.3% of the vote in 2024, and is now polling at around 34% (Ipsos, 2025). In January of 2025, I conducted interviews with MPs, strategists, and senior journalists, with the promise of anonymity to encourage them to speak candidly. What emerged was a picture of a party that both fears the corrosive potential of populist politics and struggles with how directly to confront it.

Exploring these tensions matters because Britain is hardly alone. Across Europe, mainstream parties face the same dilemma of how they should respond to populists who thrive on frustration with the status quo. Do they call out populism as dangerous, risking charges of elitism? Do they try to quietly address the grievances that fuel it? Or do they attempt to co-opt aspects of the populist policy platform and rhetoric in an attempt to diffuse their appeal? Labour’s struggle with this balance offers a case study in how mainstream parties might navigate this populist age, and what that means for the future of democracy.

Labour’s Response to Populism

When asked how Labour’s inner core thinks about populism, one party strategist sighed: “It’s the problem we can’t ignore, but we can’t talk about it either.” On the surface, Starmer has not been shy about naming populism. In his New Year speech, he condemned “the politics of the easy answer” and accused right-wing populists of offering “grievances, not solutions” (Starmer, 2024c). In the King’s Speech, he branded populism a “snake oil charm” that divided communities (Starmer, 2024a). On a train to the 2025 party conference, he described a battle with the “populist Right Reform” for “the soul of the country” (Starmer, as quoted in BBC, 2025, 03:00). Several MPs told me this reflected his genuine conviction that populism corrodes democracy. One said: “he really does think it’s dangerous. He sees it as a slide toward US-style democratic backsliding.”

Yet many Labour elites worry that naming populism head-on risks alienating voters. As one backbencher put it: “You can’t just tell people they’ve been conned. That sounds like you’re calling them stupid.” A Labour strategist was even more blunt: “That was the Remain mistake. They shouted about how bad Brexit would be and people told them to sod off. If we repeat that with populism, we’ll lose again.”

These doubts are rooted in recent history. The failure of the “Stronger In” campaign during the 2016 referendum still looms large. Its warnings of economic collapse were dismissed by many voters as fearmongering, and that experience has left strategists wary of repeating the mistake of lecturing voters. Several MPs pointed out that even the term “populist”risks alienating audiences, since it is almost always used in a pejoratively charged manner, often shorthand for “irrational” or “ignorant.”

This tension has produced what insiders describe as a split between Starmer and his chief strategist, Morgan McSweeney. Starmer leans toward confrontation, “naming and shaming” populists in the words of one MP, while McSweeney takes the opposite view. According to a Labour aide, “Morgan thinks delivery is the only answer. Fix the potholes, raise living standards, and you’ll take the wind out of Reform’s sails. That’s the fight.”

But delivery is only part of the story. McSweeney’s strategy was said to increasingly involve borrowing selectively from populists where feasible, adopting their language on issues like patriotism or immigration, and co-opting policy themes that resonate with disaffected voters. One journalist explained: “It’s not just about competence. Morgan’s theory is giving people some of the populist framing but strip out the nastiness. Show them you hear their anger but redirect it.” 

The difference between the two men is not just tactical but stylistic. Starmer prefers sober warnings about the dangers of populism. McSweeney is more interested in whether voters feel their everyday concerns are being met. As one Labour organiser summarised: “Keir wants to talk about democracy. Morgan wants to talk about potholes. And that’s the real debate inside Number 10.”

Journalists I spoke to consistently described Starmer’s style as technocratic. Some called him “prosecutorial,” others “old-fashioned” or “statesmanlike.” Even sympathetic insiders conceded that he can come across as an “enforcer of the status quo.” Several argued that this style is both personal and political: it reflects Starmer’s legal training, but also Labour’s deliberate attempt to ‘detoxify’ after Jeremy Corbyn. One campaign aide said: “We knew we couldn’t win if we looked like we were promising the moon again. Voters didn’t want grand visions. They wanted someone boring enough to fix the basics.”

That instinct shaped the 2024 campaign. Unlike Boris Johnson, who thrived on flamboyant gestures, or Corbyn, who rallied crowds with populist appeals to the “many not the few,” Starmer positioned himself as the steady alternative. His rhetoric avoided spectacle. His speeches focused on detail, compromise, and delivery. A senior journalist put it this way: “The whole pitch was: ‘We’ll be dull but competent.’ After fifteen years of drama, dull sounded good.”

At times, this meant deliberately lowering expectations. Multiple insiders recalled that Starmer instructed the party to avoid language that might create impossible promises. One MP said: “He didn’t want a repeat of 2017 or 2019, when we wrote cheques we couldn’t cash. He genuinely fears that broken promises feed populism.”

Starmer’s Worldview and the Parliamentary Party

Starmer’s instinct to treat populism as a moral threat is rooted in his background. As a barrister and former Director of Public Prosecutions, he was steeped in the idea that rules and institutions hold society together. Starmer’s choice to appoint Richard Hermer as attorney general in July 2024 was a clear example of this, and something which required ‘considerable effort’ according to one political journalist (Rodgers, 2025). Soon after his appointment, Hermer (2024) gave a speech which made clear his concern about populism and his plans to counter it:

‘We are increasingly confronted by the divisive and disruptive force of populism… We face leaders who appeal to the ‘will of the people’ – as exclusively interpreted by them – as the only truly legitimate source of constitutional authority. Their rhetoric conjures images of a conspiracy of ‘elites’ – an enemy that is hard to define but invariably including the people and independent institutions who exercise the kind of checks and balances on executive power that are the essence of liberal democracy and the rule of law… I hope you take some comfort in the fact that the importance of the rule of law and the constitutional balance is embedded in my DNA and that of a Prime Minister who not only rose to the top ranks of the Bar but served his country as DPP.’

Political journalist Ian Dunt correctly observed that it is rare for British politicians, especially attorney generals, to demonstrate “the kind of political and philosophical depth shown in that speech.” Given their shared history, Dunt (2025) claimed Starmer “had clearly authorised him to do the work they both believed in [to counter populism], in a much more robust and outspoken way.”

Labour’s MPs generally echoed Starmer and Hermer’s worldview. In interviews, many brought up Cas Mudde’s (2017) definition of populism unprompted, describing it as a worldview that pits a virtuous “people” against a corrupt “elite.”They consistently rejected this framing as corrosive to democracy. One MP told me: “The idea that politics is just a battle between good, ordinary people and a corrupt elite goes against how democracy really works – I think we’ve tried to push against that.” Indeed, Labour interviewees’ comments echoed many of the inherent dangers of populism for democracy identified by political scientist Jan Werner Muller (2016). They stressed that compromise and pluralism are essential, that it is impossible to distil the will of the people into a single viewpoint, and that institutions such as the judiciary and Parliament are safeguards, not obstacles. One insider remarked: “Respect for institutions is what sets us apart from the populists. I think for everyone here, that is absolutely key.”

This worldview shaped Labour’s stance on contentious issues. When the Conservatives tried to override the Supreme Court on the Rwanda deportation scheme, Yvette Cooper (2024) chastised a party that wanted to “stop all courts.” When Boris Johnson was accused of breaking lockdown rules during Partygate, Angela Rayner (2024) argued that the Prime Minister had “degraded” Britain’s institutions. When Conservative MPs criticised the International Criminal Court (ICC) for issuing an arrest warrant for Benjamin Neteyahu, David Lammy (2025) passionately argued that the UK’s duty was to uphold international law, no matter what.

For MPs, these moments weren’t simply opportunistic attack lines. Rather, they reflect an institutionalist ethos that sets Labour apart from its populist rivals. Several interviewees contrasted this with both right-wing populism and left-wing ‘Corbynism,’ which, at times, they claimed, flirted with a Manichean and binary view of “the people versus the elite”described by the ideational definition of populism (Mudde, 2017). As one journalist observed: “Starmer doesn’t do binaries. He does compromise. That’s his politics.” This rejection of populism runs deep within the identity of the Parliamentary Labour Party. MPs and advisers alike saw their role as defending the structures and norms of democracy against the polarising logic of populism.

A Compromise Strategy

Despite these convictions, Labour’s public-facing stance has been more muted. The compromise between Starmer and McSweeney means explicit attacks on populism are largely confined to Starmer’s speeches, whilst the wider party message stresses competence and delivery. At the same time, McSweeney’s strategy has steered Labour toward selective co-option of populist themes, borrowing rhetoric on sovereignty, fairness, and security when it helps shore up support against the PRR Reform UK.

MPs are divided over this balancing act. Some welcomed Starmer’s willingness to call out populism explicitly, saying it reassured the new intake that the party was willing to “name the problem.” Others warned that in Leave-voting constituencies such rhetoric could backfire.

A similar divergence in opinion appeared when MPs were asked about McSweeney’s push for Labour to co-opt populist policies and rhetoric in certain areas. Some Labour elites felt that, although it was uncomfortable, it was necessary to reduce the electoral appeal of Reform UK. However, others felt it risked legitimising right-wing populists and alienating their voter base on the left.

Indeed, recent research highlights that mainstream parties risk alienating their core voter bases when co-opting populist policies or rhetoric. A 2024 study on mainstream partisans’ responses to populist radical right parties found that even tactical forms of cooperation can provoke feelings of betrayal among core supporters, while outright exclusion may conversely reassure them that democratic boundaries are being defended (van der Brug et al., 2024). In other words, accepting far-right actors as legitimate competitors may backfire by alienating loyal voters, reinforcing the dilemma that ignoring populism allows it to grow, but engaging with it risks damaging mainstream parties’ own legitimacy.

The result is a fractured Labour elite, and a party that highlights it is not populist, but is simultaneously cautious about declaring itself against populism. As one senior journalist told me: “They’ll quietly fix things, and when it helps, they’ll borrow the populist language.”

The European Dilemma

Labour’s balancing act is part of a wider European story. Both the Social Democratic Party (SPÖ) and the Austrian People’s Party (ÖVP) frequently denounce the Freedom Party (FPÖ) as a right-wing populist force that threatens democratic stability. They highlight the FPÖ’s history of extremism and corruption scandals to argue it is unfit to govern. However, some analysts suggest that this moralising tone has also reinforced the FPÖ’s image as an outsider persecuted by the political establishment (Greilinger, 2024). 

In France, Emmanuel Macron has pitched himself as the rational bulwark against Marine Le Pen. His rhetoric helped him win two presidential elections, yet his reputation as the anti-populist “president of the elite” has also fuelled the resentment that benefits her party (Alduy, 2024). 

And in Slovakia, opposition leaders stress the importance of defending institutions against Robert Fico, though appeals to democratic norms often fail to resonate with voters who are more concerned about wages or security (OSW Centre for Eastern Studies, 2025).

Labour’s interviews echo these patterns. Starmer’s decision to call populism a “snake oil” resembles Macron’s confrontational stance, while McSweeney’s “pothole theory” mirrors the German CDU’s instinct to quietly address material grievances. And his tactic of co-opting populist themes recalls centre-left parties across Europe that have edged rightward on migration or nationalism in hopes of undercutting their rivals. Both approaches highlight the same paradox: ignoring populism lets it grow but confronting it risks alienating dissatisfied voters drawn to populist ‘common sense’solutions.

Conclusion: Lessons for Democracy

Labour’s struggle over how to deal with populism reflects a central dilemma facing European democracies. Mainstream parties increasingly recognise that populism threatens democratic norms, yet they are torn between exposing it and addressing the grievances that fuel it.

My interviews reveal a party uneasy about this balance. Starmer is inclined to call out populism for what it is. McSweeney and other strategists argue that delivery, not denunciation, is what keeps populists at bay – along with carefully borrowing some of their language and themes. MPs, often caught in between, worry about how rhetoric plays in their constituencies.

Since my research in January 2025, Starmer appears to have shifted closer to McSweeney’s view. He has grown more willing to co-opt populist policy positions and language in the hope of winning back voters tempted by Reform UK. A YouGov poll in early 2025 showed Reform UK as likely to be the largest party in parliament if a snap election were called, underscoring how desperate party elites have become. But comparative research suggests that Labour’s gamble may backfire. Political scientist Tarik Abou-Chadi has shown that when mainstream parties adopt aspects of populist policies from the far-right, they rarely succeed in winning over these voters. Instead, they might risk normalising the very politics they sought to resist.

Labour’s experience illustrates the challenge facing mainstream parties: how to safeguard democratic principles while competing in a political landscape reshaped by populism. These are not uniquely British problems, but global ones. For young people inheriting these democracies, the question is urgent: how can political actors who genuinely care about democracy confront populism without alienating voters or belittling their grievances?

 

References

Alduy, C. (2024, July 4). “How France Fell to the Far Right: In the End, Le Pen Hardly Had to Moderate to Gain Power.” Foreign Affairs. https://www.foreignaffairs.com/france/how-france-fell-far-right-le-pen-macron

BBC. (2025, September 28). “Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg: Interview with the Prime Minister [TV broadcast].” BBC iPlayer. https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m002k6hc/sunday-with-laura-kuenssberg-interview-with-the-prime-minister

Cooper, Y. (2024, June 20). “Speech on Supreme Court ruling and Rwanda deportation.” Hansard. https://hansard.parliament.uk

Dunt, I. (2025, February 5). “A good man in government.” Politics.co.uk. https://iandunt.substack.com/p/a-good-man-in-government

Greilinger, G. (2024, January 2). “Normalising the far right: a warning from Austria.” Social Europe.

Hermer, R. (2024, July 25). “Speech as Attorney General on populism and the rule of law.” UK Government. https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/attorney-general-richard-hermer-on-populism

Ipsos. (2025, January). “Voting intention poll, January 2025.” Ipsos. https://www.ipsos.com/en-uk/polling-voting-intention-2025

Lammy, D. (2025, March 10). “Statement on the International Criminal Court.” Hansard. https://hansard.parliament.uk

March, L. (2018). “Left and right populism compared: The British case.” The British Journal of Politics and International Relations, 20(2), 281–298. https://doi.org/10.1177/1369148118763892

Müller, J.-W. (2016). What is populism? University of Pennsylvania Press.

Mudde, C. (2017). Populism: A very short introduction. Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/actrade/9780190234874.001.0001

OSW Centre for Eastern Studies. (2025, January 28). “Slovakia: Fico’s government in trouble.” https://www.osw.waw.pl/en/publikacje/analyses/2025-01-28/slovakia-ficos-government-trouble

Rayner, A. (2024, April 21). “Referral of Prime Minister to Committee of Privileges.” Hansard. https://hansard.parliament.uk

Rodgers, S. (2025, February 24). “For evidence of Labour doubt in the Starmer project, look no further than his attorney general.” The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/feb/24/labour-keir-starmer-project-attorney-general-richard-hermer

Russo, Luana & Brock, Paula Schulze. (2025). “Mainstream partisans’ affective

response to (non) cooperation with populist radical right parties.” West European Politics, 48:6, 1389-1427, DOI: 10.1080/01402382.2024.2336436

Starmer, K. (2024a, July 17). “Debate on the address.” Hansard. https://hansard.parliament.uk

Starmer, K. (2024b, October 14). “PM International Investment Summit speech.” UK Government. https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/pm-international-investment-summit-speech-14-october-2024

Starmer, K. (2024c, January 2). “Keir Starmer’s New Year speech.” Labour Party. https://labour.org.uk/updates/press-releases/keir-starmers-new-year-speech

Banksy protest mural in Palestine. A mural by the artist Banksy on a wall in the West Bank village of Beit Sahour, June 18, 2014. Photo: Dreamstime.

Queerness, Genocide, and International Law – A Look at Palestine

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceGenderHomeHuman Rights

This commentary examines how queerness intersects with genocide and international law in the context of Palestine. Ass. Professor Izat El Amoor argues that queer Palestinians confront not only Israel’s genocidal violence but also Western pinkwashing narratives that weaponize queerness to justify oppression. By situating pinkwashing and pinkwatching within broader struggles of decolonization, the piece shows how queer analysis exposes the hypocrisy of Western legal and human rights frameworks while offering new tools for resistance. Linking Israel’s use of pinkwashing to global failures of international law—including the ICJ case brought by South Africa—the essay insists that genocide studies must reckon with queerness as central, not peripheral, to understanding both the violence in Gaza and pathways toward Palestinian liberation.

By Izat El Amoor*

In the colossal scope of the annihilation of Palestinians since October 7, queerness is not a mere addendum when positioned in the scholarship and legality of genocide. As Palestinians contested Western discourses of international law and genocide for their liberation, queer Palestinians in parallel challenged Western discourses of queerness – pinkwashing[1] – that have been employed as genocidal tools against all Palestinians. Within the larger Palestinian decolonization struggle, a queer analysis reveals additional shortcomings of the current genocide scholarship and legal frameworks that are useful for Palestinian resistance yet might otherwise remain hidden.

Pinkwashing genocide emerged boisterously from within Israel’s toolbox against an increasing diplomatic and legal global isolating pressure. This pressure entailed a string of legal and humanitarian decisions/actions such as UN Security Council votes for Palestinian statehood and membership; UN Human Rights Council resolutions of crimes against humanity; ambassador recalls and severance of diplomatic relations with many countries; states’ recognition of Palestine; state-calls on the International Criminal Court (ICC) to investigate war crimes against civilians; state-requests for a court opinion on whether Israel’s occupation violates international law. Pinkwatching[2] aims at strengthening this pressure that Israel has been diligently countering via pinkwashing, amongst other schemes. Consequently, pinkwashing and pinkwatching—while contradictory—transpire as instructive of the pretense of Western hypocritical dichotomies tied to human rights, international law, and preventing/ending genocide insofar as Palestinian liberation.

The ICJ Case Through a Queer Lens

Though not obviously connected at first glance, South Africa’s case against Israel at the ICJ—filed on December 29, 2023, regarding Israel’s actions in Gaza and widely considered the most significant diplomatic/legal attempt to isolate Israel—can also be analyzed through this queer framework. South Africa alleged that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza, violating the Genocide Convention through 75 years of apartheid, 56 years of occupation, and a 16-year blockade prior to October 7. Specifically in Gaza, South Africa accused Israel of eight “genocidal acts”: killing Palestinians; inflicting serious bodily and mental harm; mass displacement; deprivation of food and water; denial of shelter, clothing, hygiene, and sanitation; blocking medical care; destroying Palestinian life; and imposing measures to prevent births.

On January 11–12, 2024, the Peace Palace in The Hague hosted two days of hearings on South Africa’s request for provisional measures. On January 26, 2024, the Court ordered Israel to take all steps to prevent acts that could qualify as genocide under the 1948 Genocide Convention. The Court acknowledged that at least some of South Africa’s claims could fall within the Convention’s scope. However, it did not order Israel to halt its military operations in Gaza, as South Africa requested. Still, both governments declared the ruling a win, each interpreting it as validation of their stance.

Although ICJ rulings carry binding force, they lack enforcement power, and Israel has refused to comply. South Africa’s foreign minister Naledi Pandor emphasized that compliance would be impossible without a ceasefire. On February 26, 2024, Human Rights Watch reported that Israel had not implemented the Court’s provisional measures and had “continued to obstruct the provision of basic services and the entry and distribution within Gaza of fuel and lifesaving aid.” That same day, Amnesty International stated that Israel was “defying” the ICJ ruling. On March 28, 2024, in response to worsening conditions, the ICJ issued additional emergency measures requiring Israel to guarantee basic food supplies to stave off famine. Then, on May 24, 2024 the Court ordered an immediate halt to Israel’s Rafah offensive, which Israel outright rejected.

Because both Israel and South Africa are signatories to the Genocide Convention, jurisdiction is established. South Africa argues that, as a state party, it has a duty to act to prevent genocide and is legally obligated to pursue all necessary measures. The Genocide Convention extends beyond punishment to prevention, recognizing genocide as more than mass killing. South Africa’s petition highlights this obligation, aiming to fulfill the Convention’s purpose. Despite historical precedent of international law failing Palestinians and the slim likelihood of success, the case still carried hope—not only for a ruling in South Africa’s favor but also for a possible end to Israel’s genocidal campaign.

Decolonial Struggles Beyond the Courtroom

Pinkwatching operates on a similar basis of hope for Palestinian collective liberation, even though Israel is unlikely to abandon its pinkwashing efforts. Both South Africa’s ICJ case and pinkwatching contribute to the Palestinian decolonization struggle, offering different tools for globally isolating Israel and its supporters. While pinkwatching may occupy a small place in international legal and political arenas, it nonetheless provides an important pathway for resistance. This resonates with Palestinian scholar Nora Erakat’s (2020) claim that law must work alongside political strategies if it is to meaningfully support Palestine.

Like South Africa’s ICJ case, pinkwatching underscores the divide between legality and morality in international affairs. Western responses to both overlook moral dimensions, thus blocking accountability-based decolonial breakthroughs. Legal efforts are essential to halt genocide, but they remain insufficient to achieve the deeper moral and spiritual transformation necessary in the West to ensure genocide truly stops and does not recur. Treating genocide solely as a legal matter exposes the inadequacy of law when societies, like Israel’s, persist in the immoral conviction of having the right to commit it. Pinkwashers similarly claim false moral authority, reinforcing the Western legal hypocrisy that South Africa challenges. Recognizing this, pinkwatching organizers long ago chose to work outside such flawed structures, rejecting Western queer discourses that cannot deliver Palestinian liberation. Their efforts affirm that a queer-informed path to freedom cannot rely on Western legal or rights-based paradigms.

International law’s stated responsibility to prevent genocide and protect victims has repeatedly faltered due to “realpolitik, the lack of political will, and economic interests,” in the words of scholar Samuel Totten (2011). Historically, Totten says, responses to genocide have been “inconsequential. Nothing that will rock or threaten a [genocidal] government or nation’s well-being. Nothing punitive.” Israel dismissed South Africa’s charges as “baseless,” accusing it of acting as “the legal arm” of Hamas while insisting its actions were self-defense under international law—claims that largely went uncontested.

Pinkwashing, Early Warnings, and the Dynamics of Genocide

A clear example of realpolitik overriding legal and scholarly genocide frameworks came in the US, Germany, and France backing Israel at the ICJ, despite their histories of complicity in past genocides. France declared that accusing Israel of genocide “is to cross a moral threshold.” Germany pledged to defend Israel in light of the Holocaust. The US dismissedthe ICJ case as a distraction from “peace and security.” Beyond a lack of will to prevent genocide, South Africa’s case reveals that failure itself is pursued to serve Western interests.[3] Thus, by undermining their own institutions of “justice” such as international law and the UN, Western powers show themselves not only complicit in but active facilitators[4] of genocide. Their justifications parallel pinkwashing narratives, which weaponize queerness under a veneer of liberal progressivism while disregarding Palestinian lives—queer and non-queer alike.

From a queer perspective, Gaza’s genocide illustrates what scholar Sheri Rosenberg (2013) describes as the “danger of classifications” in genocide prevention. The targeting of queer Palestinians demonstrates that genocide “must be understood as an unfolding process, considered in light of historical, political, and social factors” and recognized as a complex phenomenon rather than reduced to a definition. When genocide is confined to legal definitions “against which unfolding events are to be measured,” it prioritizes “legalism [and] subjects each genocide to a rigid test in order to maintain the integrity of the term and determine criminal culpability.” Seeing genocide in Palestine as dynamic rather than static makes space for analyzing pinkwashing and pinkwatching as integral to genocide studies. Queerness unsettles the field’s fixation on definitional debates and strengthens arguments such as Rosenberg’s for “early warning systems [that] seek to collect, analyze, and communicate information” to identify potential genocides before escalation. For Palestinians, decades of orientalist tropes—including the use of homophobia to dehumanize them—could have served as early warnings had queer experiences been taken seriously.

Beyond South Africa, a queer reading of Gaza’s genocide also pushes genocide studies to destabilize fixed ideas of group identity. Scholars like Lily Nellans (2020) and Patrick Vernon (2021) have noted the Genocide Convention’s failure to recognize groups defined by gender and sexuality. Scholar Matthew Waites (2018) argues that including sexual orientation and gender identity as protected groups allows recognition of violence against queer communities in Nazi Germany, Uganda, and the Gambia as genocidal. Although Israel’s violence in Gaza targets Palestinians indiscriminately, pinkwashing’s use of queerness to normalize genocidal policies highlights how queer identities are manipulated within genocidal contexts. This manipulation, shaped by pinkwashing, differs from past genocides, marking a distinct phenomenon in the Palestinian experience.

Testimonies Erased: Pinkwashing as Justification and Diversion

Scholar Thomas Simon (1996) argues that in the initial legal definitions of genocide, the Convention’s drafters assumed that the groups requiring protection were “permanent, stable, and intractable,” recognizable by all. Because queer Palestinians have historically resisted Western queer visibility politics—centered on recognition, citizenship, and coming out—they cannot be defined as a protected group under this framework. Scholars like Freda Kabatsi (2005) argue that while the drafters treated group existence as a prerequisite for other rights, pinkwashing constructs queer Palestinians as a group only through a savior-like gaze that conditions their rights and protection on Western recognition. By forcibly separating queer Palestinians from the broader society, this group-based framing legitimizes a genocide that in reality indiscriminately targets all Palestinians. This occurs, Kabatsi (2005)  says, when the “group and membership in it are defined by the perpetrator.” Through pinkwashing, Israel reshapes the definition of the Palestinian collective by isolating its queer members, portraying them as exceptions to the population at large. This narrative enables Israel to justify violence against Palestinians—including queers—while presenting itself as a defender of queer rights.

When examined through pinkwashing and pinkwatching, the instrumentalization of queerness to justify genocide reveals a key distinction between contemporary and historical genocides as studies by Robert Melson (2011) show. While queer people have been killed in earlier genocides, the case in Gaza differs because of the weaponization of both alleged Palestinian heteronormativity and Israel’s homonormativity, the latter being used to claim the role of “savior” of queer Palestinians in the process of ‘othering’ all Palestinians. This demonstrates, to build on Vernon (2021), that both heteronormativity and homonormativity are “relevant to genocidal violence against non-queer people as well as violence against queer people.” 

Genocide, therefore, emerges as a behavior rather than a consistent phenomenon across cases. In Palestine, this “comportment of genocide”—which may either define or obscure genocide—takes the form of pinkwashing (Kabatsi, 2005). Here, pinkwashing functions as both a tool of justification and a means of diversion in the genocidal narrative against Palestinians. This may, in fact, represent the first documented instance of such comportment through pinkwashing.

Queering the analysis of genocide in Palestine beyond legal approaches further underscores the importance of listening to victims. In genocidal contexts, as Melson (2011) argues, “testimonies of victims and survivors must be taken into account in order to better understand the motives of the perpetrators and bystanders” and to give victims and survivors a voice in the narrative of destruction. The testimonies of queer Palestinians and the work of pinkwatching activists, however, remain especially marginalized—not only because queer Palestinians, like all Palestinians, are killed in the genocide, but also because pinkwashing depicts them as either nonexistent or limited to experiencing social death in their communities, thus erasing their capacity to provide testimony. This is particularly relevant in light of the ICJ’s order that Israel preserve evidence of genocide and comply with UN investigations. Instead, Israel has systematically destroyed evidence by blocking journalists from entering Gaza, targeting and killing reporters, and denying UN workers access for documentation.

From Exceptionalism to Resistance: Rethinking Genocide Studies

Israel’s reliance on pinkwashing to avoid accountability has broader consequences beyond the devastation in Palestine. By exploiting queer communities in pursuit of ethnonationalist goals, Israel signals to other states that such practices can be adopted with impunity, without fear of consequences. Condemning Israel and the West’s disregard for international law, Irish MEP Clare Daly stated, “the rules-based order is in roaring form.” Israeli exceptionalism reinforces the fact that the West has always applied one standard of international law for its allies and another for the rest of the world. After months of openly discarding international law in Gaza, the collapse of the post–World War II system—built by the US and Europe to maintain global dominance—has become undeniable. Palestinians, including queer Palestinians and their pinkwatching allies, remain steadfast in their resistance to this destructive order.

Pinkwashing and pinkwatching emphasize the need for genocide studies and international law to adopt queer perspectives in documenting, analyzing, and explaining both Israel’s genocide and the international community’s failure to prevent it. Building on the leadership of pinkwatching activists, scholars must foreground the heteronormative and homonormative structures of Zionism, nationalism, colonialism, orientalism, and imperialism as central to understanding genocidal violence in Gaza and beyond. As scholarship continues to evolve, queerness must be acknowledged as an essential contributor to Palestinian liberation, complementing other political strategies. Since legal approaches alone have repeatedly proven insufficient for advancing decolonization, recognizing queerness at the intersection of law and politics is crucial.


(*) Dr. Izat El Amoor is a self-identified queer Palestinian, and an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Hendrix College studying LGBTQ issues in the Arab world, Palestine included.

 

References

Erakat, N. (2020). Justice for some: Law and the question of Palestine. Stanford University Press.

Kabatsi, F. (2005). “Defining or diverting genocide: Changing the comportment of genocide.” International Criminal Law Review, 5(4), 387–407.

Melson, R. (2011). “Critique of current genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 279–286.

Nellans, L. (2020). “A queer (er) genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 14(3), 7–16.

Rosenberg, S. P. (2012). “Genocide is a process, not an event.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 7(1), 16–23.

Simon, T. W. (1996). “Defining genocide.” Wisconsin International Law Journal, 15(2), 243–289.

Totten, S. (2011). “The state and future of genocide studies and prevention: An overview and analysis of some key issues.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 211–230.

Vernon, P. (2021). “Queering genocide as a performance of heterosexuality.” Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 49(2), 248–279.

Waites, M. (2018). “Genocide and global queer politics.” Journal of Genocide Research, 20(1), 44–67.


Footnotes

[1] To pinkwash, Israel exploits queer rights to project a progressive queer friendly image of itself while concealing its occupation and apartheid of Palestinians.

[2] Pro-Palestine anti-pinkwashing organizing.

[3] Some signs include the May 6th threatening letter by 12 US republican senators, led by Sen. Tom Cotton, to the ICC chief prosecutor Karim A.A. Khan with sanctions and banning ICC “employees and associates” from entering the US over possible warrants against Israel, saying explicitly, “target Israel and we will target you.” South Africa’s Pandor received the same letter. On May 20th, Khan applied for arrest warrants for Hamas chief Yahya Sinwar and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

[4] The US and Germany, Israel’s top arms supplier, saw their weapon manufacturer corporates directly profit from the genocide as their share prices have exponentially risen since October 7.

Activists stage an anti-corruption demonstration in Solo, Central Java, Indonesia. Photo: Dreamstime.

People versus Elites, Populist Logics in Indonesia’s 2025 Unrest

by AuthoritarianismCommentariesEconomicsEditor’s ChoiceHomeHuman Rights

Indonesia is witnessing its largest wave of protests since Reformasi, sparked by the death of Affan Kurniawan during Jakarta’s labor demonstrations. Demands range from fair wages and job security to dismantling elite privileges and revising the controversial Omnibus Law. Drawing on Ernesto Laclau’s theory of populist reason, the article analyzes how heterogeneous grievances converged into a collective identity of “the people” against “the elites,” fueled by widening inequality, institutional distrust, and elite arrogance. It further examines government securitization, social media narratives, and intra-elite rivalries, situating the unrest within Indonesia’s democratic backsliding. Hasnan Bachtiar argues this moment marks a potential turning point — either toward renewed progressive populism or deeper authoritarian entrenchment.

By Hasnan Bachtiar

Affan Kurniawan (21) was still wearing the green jacket from his app-based food-delivery job as he stepped out to earn a living. The family’s breadwinner, he was expected to bring home a small bag of rice for everyone to share when he returned from work. But in the middle of a labor protest in Jakarta, he was struck and crushed by a nearly five-ton police armored vehicle.

On the night of August 28, 2025, he died. But his death unleashed a larger, unstoppable wave of populist anger, like a boil about to burst. The protests that day were not limited to Jakarta, they also broke out in cities such as Surabaya, Bandung, Semarang, Yogyakarta, Medan, Banda Aceh, Batam, Palembang, Lampung, Banjarmasin, Pontianak, Samarinda, Makassar, Gorontalo, Ambon, Ternate, and Jayapura, among others, spreading across all 38 provinces of Indonesia.

The protests demanded an end to outsourcing and poverty wages, a halt to layoffs, a higher minimum wage, a higher non-taxable income threshold, the removal of taxes on holiday bonuses and severance pay, limits on contract employment and on foreign labor, and the repeal of the Omnibus Law in favor of a new labor code.

It turned out this wave of protests was the twelfth in a series, preceded by eleven demonstrations throughout 2025, including one organized under the hashtag #IndonesiaGelap. The following day, and continuing to the present, the protests have carried on with even more serious demands. For the record, several others died after Affan, they are Septinus Sesa (West Papua), Iko Juliant Junior (Semarang), Andika Luthfi Falah (Jakarta), Syaiful Akbar (Makassar), Muhammad Akbar Basri (Makassar), Sarinawati (Makassar), Rusmadiansyah (Makassar), and Reza Sendy Pratama (Yogyakarta).

Populis Logics

What is happening appears to align with Ernesto Laclau’s thinking in his work On Populist Reason (2005). He sees populism as a political logic that constructs a collective identity of “the people” in antagonism to the elite by using broad, flexible, and recognizable symbols and discourses to unite disparate demands.

Initially, a scatter of heterogeneous demands kept surfacing. Because the authorities failed to respond adequately, people came to feel they shared a common enemy. They then experienced a shared fate and burden as “marginalized subjects.” This spread, solidifying public sentiment and spurring the formation of “equivalential chains.” They arrived at a collective claim that “the people demand justice,” to be pursued through a movement of resistance as a hegemonic articulation. From a more ontological perspective of “the people,” as suggested by Yilmaz et al. (2025), if the elite prove incapable of governing the country, they should be replaced or even dismantled. 

On the surface, it began with reports circulating about pay and benefit increases for officials, especially members of parliament. This came at a time when the public was facing severe economic hardship. On one side, the executive branch was rolling out “efficiency” measures that led to layoffs, service cuts, and heavier tax burdens. On the other, the elite were enjoying higher salaries and perks, access to lucrative projects, and economic rents. For comparison, while officials were set to receive 100 million rupiah (USD 6,092) per month, about 3 million rupiah (USD 184) a day, 68 percent of the population was getting by on less than 50,000 rupiah (USD 3). With incomes roughly sixty times higher than most people’s, this was seen as elite indifference toward the public and the imposition of a harsh double standard.

Moreover, some of those officials even danced in the parliament building when they heard about the pay raise. Others, like Uya Kuya (National Mandate Party/PAN), said that three million a day was a small amount compared to his salary. When the public flooded social media with criticism, lawmaker Eko Patrio (PAN) put out a DJ parody, blasting loud music, dancing, then covering his ears with headphones. This came across not only as a sign that they did not care about the criticism, but as an insult. They were dancing on the public’s suffering. When people grew furious and called for parliament (the DPR) to be dissolved, Ahmad Sahroni (National Democratic Party/NasDem) responded by calling them “the dumbest people in the world.”

The combination of economic hardship (crisis), a deficit of trust in the government, and widespread psychological pressure, especially a collective sense of humiliation, led the public to feel a shared grievance and to move together against a common enemy, the corrupt elite. All of this then manifested in collective protest movements filled with popular anger and even accompanied by violence that seemed inevitable.

Hijacking the Reformasi

Rather than engaging with the substance of public anger, the government responded with a hardline narrative with unproven claims of foreign infiltration. This seemed to be the point when the distance between the state and its citizens felt widest. The public demanded accountability, the state answered by criminalizing dissent. These dueling narratives hardened for a basic reason, that the people no longer believed that their representatives, whether in the executive or the legislature, would take their side, while the state treated criticism as a danger to be crushed. To confront the protesters, the government deployed not only the police but also military troops.

The public’s collective anger is clearly directed at the ruling regime. People see signs of recentralization as a replay of what happened for more than three decades under the military general Suharto. There is now symbolic militarization, increasingly entrenched political coalitions, and the concentration of state assets within a narrow circle, especially among those close to President Prabowo. All of this is viewed as the culmination of the post-1998 Reformasi trajectory. Reformasi, which was expected to open civic space, now seems instead to be in the process of being brutally dismantled.

More ironically, the rhetoric of fiscal efficiency is being wielded downward, squarely at ordinary people. Budgets for the regions have been cut, and the social safety net has shrunk, while luxury perks for parliament (the DPR) and defense spending have ballooned. For the record, the national defense budget rose from 139.27 trillion rupiah in 2024 to 247.5 trillion rupiah. At the start of 2025, the value-added tax (PPN) was raised to 12%, which many fears will significantly weaken purchasing power. Other issues seen as worsening the public’s socio-economic situation include the circulation of adulterated “premium” fuel, shortages of LPG canisters on the market, the nickel case in Raja Ampat, the transfer of four islands from Aceh to North Sumatra, the freezing of 120 million bank accounts by Indonesia’s Financial Transaction Reports and Analysis Center (PPATK), and a rule under which idle land and houses would be seized by the state, among others.

So, for the public, “efficiency” has become a pretext for tightening their own belts, not for reining in elite appetites. Because budget “efficiency” is centralized, local governments that would normally receive transfers from the center have been left scrambling, with little choice but to raise local revenues. On August 13, 2025, residents protested in the city of Pati, Central Java, after the Pati regent, Sudewo (from Gerindra Party), raised the Land and Building Tax (PBB, essentially the property tax) by 250%. Other local governments that faced public backlash included Jombang (a 1,202% tax hike), Cirebon (1,000%), Semarang (441%), Bone (300%), and Lhokseumawe (248%).

In this context, the reform agenda appears to have been hijacked. An alliance of politicians, bureaucrats, and big business interests has deepened the private accumulation of public resources through seemingly democratic institutions. Meanwhile, political parties show almost no real ideological differentiation, they appear to speak with one voice in service of an oligarchic logic. At the same time, freedom of speech exists, and social media teems with criticism, but the distribution of economic and political power remains skewed. When the public pressed its case during the #IndonesiaGelap protests on February 17-20, 2025, the Chair of the National Economic Council and Special Presidential Advisor for Investment, Luhut Binsar Pandjaitan, replied: “Darkness lies in you, not Indonesia.”

The People’s Articulation

President-elect Prabowo Subianto with the 7th President of Indonesia, Joko Widodo, at the 79th Indonesian National Armed Forces Anniversary in Jakarta, Indonesia, on October 5, 2024. Photo: Donny Hery.

It cannot be doubted that the spread of protests was the result of many triggers converging at once. Tension in the streets created space for a populist mood to take hold, reinforced by narratives circulating on social media, kitchen-table anxieties, and political symbols that ignited collective emotion. The picture was further muddied by orchestrated messaging from anonymous “buzzers” (paid online amplifiers), making it hard for the public to see who was really behind the unrest.

On the ground, the crowd was heterogeneous (workers, students, online ride-hailing driver communities (ojek), and civil society organizations) pursuing overlapping aims that were not always identical, which often slowed coordination. Under that pressure, crowd psychology amplified emotions. Each new casualty triggered broader solidarity while also opening space for infiltration and provocation. At the same time, intra-elite conflicts (especially Prabowo-military vis-à-visJokowi-police) fueled the escalation. Factions within the ruling bloc competed, some ratcheted up tensions, while others capitalized on the moment for political gain.

The crowd’s anger in these protests was aimed at four main targets they saw as sources of injustice. First, the DPR (parliament) was perceived as a symbol of privilege and a legislature that often produces policies that betray the popular will. Then, the security forces (the police) because repeated violence and impunity have eroded the public’s sense of safety. Political parties were viewed as lacking real ideological differences and serving mainly to reinforce an oligarchic logic. The ruling faction (Prabowo) was criticized for pushing recentralization and was feared to be further narrowing the civic space that should belong to citizens.

From the streets, two tiers of demands rang out loud and clear. First came the urgent demands to be met by September 5, 2025, an independent investigation into cases of police violence against protest victims, an end to the involvement of the Indonesian National Armed Forces (TNI) in civilian affairs, the release of all detained protesters, accountability for security forces, a moratorium on increases to benefits for DPR members (parliament), full budget transparency, ethics sanctions for officials who displayed arrogance, an open public dialogue with the DPR, and comprehensive protections for workers.

Second, there were structural demands to clean up the parliament (DPR) of corruptions, to reform political parties and the system of executive oversight, to build a fairer tax system, to strengthen the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) through an asset-forfeiture law, to make the police professional, to ensure the military returns to the barracks without exception, to bolster the National Human Rights Commission (Komnas HAM) and other independent bodies, and to review economic and labor policies so they favor the public.

The demonstrations are not just seasonal “riots.” They are a serious sign that the state’s legitimacy is eroding. Indonesia learned in 1998 that when an economic crisis collides with a political crisis and injustice, the result is a multidimensional crisis. Those symptoms are back now, only with a new face, the public is more informed, more digitally connected, and more willing to test the state’s narrative against everyday experience. 

Democracy rarely collapses overnight. It usually erodes slowly under the pretext of maintaining order. That is why this moment can be understood as an inflection point, will Indonesia slip back into a new form of authoritarianism hiding behind procedural democracy, or use it as a chance to repair a fractured social contract?

This is where progressive populism becomes relevant. The popular movement, now articulated through anger and concrete demands, opens the door to building a new political bloc committed to economic and social justice, transparency, and accountability. Rather than merely mobilizing emotion, progressive populism can serve as a platform to knit scattered demands into a coherent, measurable collective agenda.

Affan’s death has come to symbolize how a single life from the poor can speak louder than a thousand official speeches. If the establishment chooses to turn a deaf ear, whatever legitimacy remains will only grow more fragile. But if it dares to listen and channel the people’s energy toward a fairer transformation, this tragedy could mark the beginning of renewal.

Refugees and migrants disembark at the port of Thessaloniki after being transferred from the Moria refugee camp on Lesvos Island, Greece, September 2, 2019. Photo: Vasilis Ververidis.

Locked Out, Building In: Refugees in Greece Persevere Amidst Exclusion

by CommentariesECPS YouthEditor’s ChoiceHomeMigrationVoice of Youth

Greece has become a critical gateway for asylum-seekers, yet increasingly restrictive migration policies, harsh detention conditions, and reduced aid leave refugees in precarious circumstances. Amid systemic exclusion, NGOs like REFUGYM, Sama Community Center, and El-Sistema Greece foster hope, dignity, and belonging through education, sports, arts, and grassroots initiatives. Drawing on interviews with NGO leaders, refugees, and first-hand field observations, this article highlights both the barriers asylum-seekers face and the community-led solutions redefining resilience. In a climate of tightening borders and rising polarization, refugee-led spaces remain vital for empowerment, solidarity, and imagining more inclusive futures.

By Layla Hajj*

On July 9th, 2025, Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis announced that Greece will stop the processing of asylum applications arriving from North Africa for three months, claiming that those who enter the country illegally will be “arrested and detained.” Despite the Greek Council for Refugees demanding that there be no suspension of asylum under the premise that it is “illegal,” a violation of international law, and a demonstration of Greece’s failure to guarantee basic fundamental rights, Greece has justified their migration restrictions with the influx of migrants arriving via the Mediterranean route. The government defends that they must halt all illegal migration to increase their country’s security and ensure that they have the adequate resources to distribute to their own citizens, who are currently facing issues such as widespread unemployment.

Despite being one of Europe’s main gateways for migration, with 80% of asylum-seekers who cross the Mediterranean landing in Greece, the country continues to tighten restrictions on asylum seekers, who already face a life-threatening journey to reach the island-nation (IRC). The UN agency IOM reports that as of July 2025, 743 people have died this year as they attempt to cross the Mediterranean to Europe, inducing 538 on the Central Mediterranean route, one of the main pathways to Greece and the deadliest migration route in the world. 

Those who make it to Greece live in detention centers, formally called refugee camps. Despite government officials denying all accusations, Cyprus and Greece have been repeatedly accused of human rights violations and push backs against migrants by the European Court of Human Rights and other councils.

While camps have always been isolated, cast away in remote mountains outside of the line of sight of most Greek citizens, they have become increasingly restricted in recent years. In 2020, the Greek government built 10 foot concrete retainer walls around a camp referred to as Malakasa 1, which was already surrounded by barbed wire. Within these towering walls, the government has limited the entrepreneurship of refugees, including shutting down most, if not all, of the small businesses running in the camps.

The government has even limited assistance for basic survival necessities. In 2021, between the months of October and December, the state stripped asylum seekers of cash card assistance, a provision that impacted many thousands of asylum-seekers (Refugees International). In 2024, cash assistance was not paid out to migrants for the months of May, June, July, and August. Recently in March of 2025, the government reduced the eligibility period for Refugee Cash Assistance (RCA) and Refugee Medical Assistance (RMA) from 12 months to 4 months. The government has not provided a specific reason for the halting of said assistance. 

In an interview with Britty Grace, founder of the NGO REFUGYM and a former service worker in Malakasa 1, she shared some insights into the realities of life inside the camps. “People refer to the camps as prisons” she revealed. People are often uninformed of their rights, detained in the camps for weeks on end for paperwork processing, which inhibits their ability to get a job and provide for their families, and are stripped of housing opportunities overnight. And when asked if the conditions inside of camps have improved over the years, she responded with a direct “No. Things have gotten worse. And when you think things can’t get any worse, they do.” 

Britty Grace started working in camps in 2016. Two years later, she started REFUGYM, an NGO that provides community-led-sports programming and language lessons to asylum-seekers. While there are many NGOs like Grace’s dedicated to servicing individuals living in refugee camps, the Greek government has placed several restrictions on their entry. According to Grace, the process of registration with a camp is “very expensive, bureaucratic, and difficult. Even after registration, it ultimately comes down to the discretion of the camp manager. Oftentimes, they don’t provide a reason for kicking us out. And I guess they don’t have to – they’re in charge.”

Grace was kicked out of the camp 5 times over the course of 6 years for trying to implement REFUGYM. “When I started it (REFUGYM), I had always created it to be a community led gym in the eventuality I would be kicked out. That way, it wasn’t completely dependent on me. So when I was forced to leave, REFUGYM was still able to continue for 6 years being led by the community.” However, her continued removal from the camps made management of her organization incredibly difficult, forcing Grace to eventually move her services to an external location.

A colleague of Grace’s, Katerina Tsikalaki, who now collaborates with Grace at her new location, shares similar experiences from working within the camps. As the co-founder of the NGO Science United, she is dedicated to providing science education to displaced youth in Greece. A valuable aspect of her services is providing children with the opportunity to go on field trips to observe the subjects they are learning about.

Tsikalaki shared a vivid memory of a setback she faced while implementing her travel programming: “A few years ago, I spent time planning a science field trip for the kids so that they could visit the Athens Science Festival. It was a much needed opportunity for them to get out of the camp and learn. However, on the planned day of the excursion, the minister abruptly decided to lock down the camp for what he described as procedures. Instead of a fun science excursion, the kids were stuck in the camps all day, watching their parents run through another round of security checks.”

“This was not an isolated event,” Tsikalaki continued. “While residents are allowed out of the camp, they must show identification. And if something goes wrong, they must remain in the camp until further notice. The children, and even adults, absolutely do not have the same rights as Greek residents outside of the camps. But it’s not surprising. We now have a very far-right minister of migration and asylum, Thanos Plevris.”

In the face of strict policy, refugees, with the support of NGOs, still manage to create their own spaces for belonging and success. Since relocating REFUGYM to the Sama community center, positioned right outside Malakasa 1 and 2,  Britty Grace has been able to do so much more with her organization. A big part of REFUGYM’s programming has always been the escapism element that it presents participants – before from the typical day in the camps and since relocating, from the camps altogether. 

“People come to hang out at Sama when we’re not there. It’s a safe space – a home,” Grace reflects.

Jumping in to support Grace’s comment, a refugee attending a Sama event revealed that “Sama makes life in the camps bearable. Sama gives me a purpose. When I leave to go back to camp, I am more joyful and hopeful.”

Sama is both a place of comfort and excitement. REFUGYM’s sports programming includes climbing trips, hiking, watersports, boxing, yoga and more. The center also hosts women’s weekly only days, cultivating a space in which women feel empowered and secure by offering activities like self-defense and meditation. On top of programming, Sama offers medical services and asylum support every week with the help of doctors and social workers from other NGOS.

A 16 year old frequenter of Sama serves as a prime example of the impact of the centers’ multifaceted program opportunities. He came to Sama illiterate and with a very bad eye condition. However, Britty Grace was able to connect him with an ophthalmologist and get him strong prescription glasses. From that point forward, his confidence increased exponentially. He became literate and learned English within months. Now, he helps translate the English classes for his less-fluent peers. This boy is one of many dedicated participants at the Sama community center. “People often attend 3 or 4 language classes. They are thirsty and keen for knowledge!” Grace exclaimed.

“Over the years a lot of people have asked me to write reference letters for them from when they were a leader in our program, and then that helped them to obtain a job,” Grace revealed. Their dedication inside Sama presents far-reaching opportunities.

Sama community center has also manifested into a space for cultural exchanges. Oftentimes, a Greek native named Maria, who helps teach the Greek lessons, plays music for the migrants on weekends. In return, migrants teach songs to their peers in their native language. “It is a super lovely reciprocal exchange of music. This is such an amazing, organic element that we should encourage,” Grace reflects. “Music is so universal and is an incredible way to promote mutual understanding and connection.” 

El-Sistema Greece, a partner organization of REFUGYM, utilizes music as its key tool to promote unity. The organization is a Greek-led NGO that teaches music to both displaced youth and Greek locals, cultivating a space that promotes understanding and cohesion. The team is adamant that they remain a completely Greek team in order to foster a tight-knit community that promotes Greek inclusion, and makes the clear statement that Greece is an inviting country.

In an interview with Anis Barnat, co-founder of the NGO, he explained that: “What we developed is not so much music lessons, it’s nice but it’s not the purpose of what we’re doing. The social element is the most important one and the values that we’re giving to the kids, like learning how to understand differences and how to understand that barriers are most of the time very psychological so you have to overcome that. We try to give our kids as much control over the lesson plan as possible, and encourage them to work together in order to devise a plan. This is the thing that is lacking, I think, in the world in general. Fear and polarization are overtaking our world – and we seek to combat that division through El-Sistema.  I love the arts, but we are creating good people, good leaders, and good citizens.”

“It’s essential to start community led projects so that they can be sustainable,” adds Grace. “In such programs. community members feel like it’s their space, so they contribute to it. It’s not just something that they passively show up to. They contribute to it, they help with upkeep, cleaning, and teaching. It’s a collective space as opposed to a hierarchical one.”

We will only see more people displaced from their home countries with the rise of climate change, poverty, and global conflict. In such a time, it is critical to lean on communities and cultivate spaces for inclusion. In the words of Britty Grace, “we must break down barriers in order to foster belonging.”

 

Layla Hajj is a rising senior at the National Cathedral School in Washington, D.C., and the founder of Refugee Youth Support, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit providing tutoring, mentorship, and school-prep programs for refugee children in the DC area. Over the past three summers, she has interned with the Blossom Hill Foundation, supporting educational initiatives for displaced youth worldwide. She has also traveled to Jordan and Greece to teach English to refugee children, conduct interviews with migration experts and asylum-seekers, and document grassroots efforts to build inclusive communities.

As a youth writer and advocate, Layla works to empower migrant youth and address systemic barriers facing displaced communities. For this article, she draws on interviews with NGO leaders and refugees, as well as her first-hand experiences working near refugee camps, aiming to amplify and contextualize the voices of migrants themselves.

 

References

Al Jazeera. (2025, June 17). “At least 60 people ‘feared dead’ after shipwrecks off the coast of Libya.” https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/6/17/at-least-sixty-asylum-seekers-missing-after-shipwrecks-off-the-coast-of-libya (accessed on September 1, 2025).

Al Jazeera. (2025, July 9). “Greece halts migrant asylum processing from North Africa.” https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/7/9/greece-to-halt-migrant-asylum-processing-from-north-africa (accessed on September 1, 2025).

Greece Refugee.info. (n.d.). “Information and services about rights and procedures for refugees in Greece.” https://greece.refugee.info/en-us (accessed on September 1, 2025).

Mixed Migration Centre. (2024). Quarterly Mixed Migration Update: Europe. https://mixedmigration.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/QMMU-2024-Q4-Europe.pdf

International Rescue Committee. (n.d.) Refugee Inclusion, Greece. https://www.rescue.org/country/greece (accessed on September 1, 2025).

Spinnicchia, C. (2025, April 11). “Greece: Government suspends cash assistance to asylum seekers for nine months.” Melting Pot Europa. https://www.meltingpot.org/en/2025/04/greece-the-government-has-suspended-economic-assistance-to-asylum-seekers-for-9-months/ (accessed on September 1, 2025).

MedMA, Mediterranean Migration & Asylum Policy Hub. (2025, February 24). “Unpacking Greece’s 2024 Migration & Asylum Report: Data and Trends. https://med-ma.eu/publications/unpacking-greeces-2024-migratio (accessed on September 1, 2025).

US President Donald Trump delivers a speech to the people of Poland at Krasinski Square in Warsaw, July 6, 2017. Photo: Dreamstime.

Trump, Trade, and the Fracturing of ‘Western Civilization’

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceHome

Donald Trump once portrayed himself as the guardian of Western Civilization. Yet his second administration has aggressively undermined the very unity it claimed to defend. The recent US-EU trade deal—imposing steep tariffs on European exports while demanding vast investments in American industries—signals a shift from partnership to dominance. This economic blow coincides with a deeper ideological rupture: Trump no longer sees Europe, especially the EU, as a cultural ally but as a bureaucratic adversary. Aligning instead with nationalist and religiously conservative leaders, Trump’s vision of the West excludes liberal, secular Europe in favor of sovereigntist regimes. Civilizational language remains—but it now serves to justify a reordered West where power, not pluralism, defines belonging.

By Nicholas Morieson

The Trump administration’s recent trade deal is the culmination of its economic confrontation with the European Union (EU). However EU leaders choose to frame it, the agreement is hardly a positive development for Europe. It imposes a 15% tariff on most EU exports to the US, while granting zero tariffs on a range of US goods, including aircraft parts, chemicals, and generic drugs. In return, the EU committed to invest approximately $600 billion in the US, along with $750 billion in purchases of American energy products over a three-year period—a concession best described as economic capitulation.

Trump’s aggressive deal-making, which appears deliberately designed to undermine Europe’s industrial base, and his administration’s strong criticisms of the lack of political freedom in several European nations, especially Germany, sit uneasily alongside his earlier rhetoric on defending Western Civilization. For example, in his 2017 speech in Warsaw, Trump surprised many commentators by casting himself not as a narrow “America First” populist-nationalist, but as a defender of the West. Speaking in lofty tones, he warned his Polish audience that Western Civilization was in grave danger, facing threats both within and beyond its borders:
“Our own fight for the West does not begin on the battlefield,” he declared. “It begins with our minds, our wills, and our souls.”

Drawing on Poland’s resistance to Nazism and Communism, Trump framed the US and Poland as cultural allies within a civilizational mission. To preserve that mission, he argued, both nations must keep alive the “bonds of history, culture, and memory.”

“Just as Poland could not be broken,” he said, “I declare today for the world to hear that the West will never, ever be broken. Our values will prevail. Our people will thrive. And our civilization will triumph.”

Among the enemies of the West identified by Trump were “radical Islamic” actors and, more vaguely, immigrants “who reject our values and who use hatred to justify violence against the innocent.” Yet he insisted these forces would fail—because of the West’s unity, strength, and cultural brilliance:

“We write symphonies. We pursue innovation. We celebrate our ancient heroes, embrace our timeless traditions… We cherish inspiring works of art that honor God. We treasure the rule of law and protect the right to free speech… We debate everything. We challenge everything. We seek to know everything so that we can better know ourselves.”

This was civilizational language in a distilled form, and which exalted a shared Western historical mission, moral legacy, and cultural inheritance. In using this language, Trump positioned himself as the defender of a great civilization under siege, one that would endure if it remained unified, and perhaps with Trump himself at its leader.

This was not the only civilizational note struck, so to speak, by the Trump administration. As Jeffrey Haynes noted, the administration explicitly elevated “Judeo-Christian values” in foreign policy, replacing the “more flexible Christocentric approach” of previous US governments. This shift was expressed in the promotion of religious freedom for Christians, the withdrawal of funding from abortion-linked aid programs, and consistent alignment with conservative religious causes internationally. Israel, in this framing, was incorporated into the West not through geography, but because it was understood as an outpost of Judeo-Christian civilization in the Middle East.

However, the second Trump Administration has hardly made civilizational unity with Europe a priority. It has, in fact, adopted an almost implacably anti-European tone. Gone is the soaring rhetoric praising European culture—replaced by direct critique. In Trump’s view, the Europeans do not spend enough on defense, choose not to protect themselves from Russian aggression, and instead free-ride on American military and economic might. Vice President J.D. Vance has been especially critical of Europe, arguing that the region is increasingly undemocratic, and singling out Germany for its attempts to ban the right-wing populist Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) party. Since returning to power, Trump has disparaged NATO, launched economic attacks on the European Union, and pursued trade policies that harm core European industries. He sought rapprochement with Vladimir Putin, dismaying US allies, although these efforts were not reciprocated, forcing him to backtrack and grudgingly sponsor Ukraine’s self-defense.

Under the second Trump Administration, then, Europe—especially the EU—is seen not as a partner, but rather as an ideological and economic adversary. This may be surprising, given Trump’s earlier stated enthusiasm for civilizational unity. Yet signs of this antagonism were already present in the Warsaw speech, where Trump identified not just radical Islam but also the “steady creep of government bureaucracy” as a threat to the West. This was unmistakably code for Brussels and the wider liberal technocratic architecture of the EU. In Trump’s conception, the authentic West is not embodied by the EU or the secular, liberal nations of Western Europe, but by Hungary and Poland: nations that defend sovereignty, tradition, and Christian identity. 

This helps explain Trump’s selective alliances.

Although Trump spoke of Western unity in Warsaw, his closest allies while in office have not been Europe’s liberal democracies, but rather a cohort of populist and nationalist leaders who share his disdain for globalism, technocracy, and liberal norms. In Europe, this included Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz party in Hungary and the Law and Justice (PiS) government in Poland, who both claimed to be defending Christian civilization against Muslim migrants and Brussels bureaucrats. But the pattern extended globally. Trump cultivated ties with Narendra Modi, whose Hindu nationalist project reimagines Indian identity in explicitly civilizational terms. He praised Jair Bolsonaro, who framed himself as a religious crusader against globalism and cultural Marxism. He supported Benjamin Netanyahu’s vision of Israel as a Jewish ethnostate and a bulwark protecting Western Civilization from radical Islam. What unites these figures is not cultural proximity or geopolitical strategy, but a shared political discourse that is nationalist, anti-liberal, often religiously framed, and contemptuous of international institutions.

Trump’s vision for international politics might be predicated on the protection of Western civilization, but in practice it constructs a loose front of ideologically aligned regimes that reject liberal universalism and prioritize ethnic or religious identity, sovereignty, and security. Viewed in this light, the Warsaw speech takes on a different meaning. Its invocation of “our civilization” may have sounded like a call to Western unity, but in hindsight it was a call to reorder that unity to displace Brussels with Budapest, liberalism with traditional values, and multilateralism with national sovereignty. 

But not all of this is purely tactical. A clearer ideological logic emerges from the growing influence of post-liberal thinkers within the administration.

Around Trump, a group of advisers and public intellectuals, including Patrick Deneen, Rod Dreher (who now lives in Hungary), Adrian Vermeule, and most importantly Vice President Vance, possess a coherent civilizational vision of ‘the West.’ Their argument is not that Western civilization should be abandoned, but rather rescued from liberalism, which they see as having hollowed out Christianity, dismantled moral authority, and opened the gates to unchecked migration, especially from Muslim-majority countries. For these post-liberals, Europe’s embrace of secularism, technocracy, and progressive norms represents a betrayal of the West’s true civilizational inheritance. As a result, they do not see Western Europe and the EU as authentically ‘Western,’ but rather agree with Viktor Orban, who once told an American audience that “the Democratic Party and President Obama were ‘globalists’” who oppose Christian values, and who along with “Brussels” represent the enemies of Western civilization.

This vision marks a decisive break from the postwar consensus that linked Western civilization with liberal democracy, secularism, pluralism, and transatlantic solidarity. Trump’s EU trade deal, with its punitive tariffs and lopsided concessions, demonstrates the depth of this rupture. It is less an economic agreement than a demonstration of American power and signals that Washington now sees Brussels as an economic and ideological rival, not a member of the same civilization. 

For Europeans, the implications are stark. Trump’s idea of “the West” is very different to the EU leaders’ idea of the West. Furthermore, Trump’s Warsaw rhetoric of Western unity is now largely absent, replaced with a transactional, often hostile, posture toward the EU and its liberal-democratic and technocratic core values. 

Europeans, Aris Roussinos has observed, now face an unavoidable choice between embracing a specific set of ‘European’ values, and attempting to unify as a cultural and economic bloc in order to protect themselves from American power, or resign themselves to a subordinate role in a West utterly dominated by the United States. Emmanuel Macron has given this dilemma explicit political form, calling for Europe to become a civilizational power in its own right. Whether Europe can realize this ambition remains uncertain. But the trade deal imposed by Trump leaves little doubt: whatever the language of Warsaw once promised, there will be no simple civilizational unity between Europe and the United States.

Voters wait in line at Mary Rose Cardenas Hall North on the University of Texas at Brownsville campus during the 2008 US presidential election on November 4, 2008. Photo: Dreamstime.

Does Representative Democracy Still Make Sense?

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceHome

The rise of populism has exposed the fragility of representative democracy, particularly in an era of rapid technological change. The digital age has blurred the lines between the personal and the political, as social media platforms empower populist leaders to claim direct representation of the people. As the public’s trust in institutionalized forms of democracy wanes, this has led to a recalibration of what representation should entail. Beyond mere vote casting, representation is increasingly about ensuring a broader, more inclusive range of voices within political discourse. However, as Peter Mair (2013) and others have noted, this expansion often leads to fragmentation rather than cohesion, making the task of political representation more complex and urgently in need of reinvention in the face of emerging global challenges.

By João Ferreira Dias

Social media have become the contemporary embodiment of democracy’s broader promise: not only that every citizen holds one vote, but that each voice carries equal value. When this illusion of equal voice meets the populist perfume of a leader who claims to be “the voice of the people,” representative democracy—an invention of over two centuries ago—starts to feel stale.

James Madison, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States, argued that the public voice, articulated by representatives, would more likely align with the public good than if expressed directly by the people themselves (Madison, 1788). This idea, by its very nature, raises questions about one of liberal democracy’s foundational pillars: representation.

Since the rise of representative institutions—cortes, parliaments, and a wide array of mediating bodies—citizens have accepted that, in a complex and plural world, they cannot participate directly in the life of the polis. Hence, professional associations, unions, and political representatives have become the legitimate “voice” of the people. This pathway led to the modern construct of representative democracy.

However, representative democracy has long struggled between two competing approaches: authorization and accountability. As Hannah Pitkin (1967) noted in her seminal work The Concept of Representation, authorization theories ignore the substantive content of representation—who represents, what is represented, and how—while accountability models focus narrowly on control mechanisms, disregarding substantive political action.

With the end of the Cold War and the global expansion of liberal democracy, representation transcended both the consent implicit in the social contract and mere accountability. It evolved into a dynamic social process, marked by innovations such as participatory budgets, grassroots movements, and NGOs (Fung, 2006).

Demands for representation acquired a new momentum under the concept of representativeness. It no longer suffices that votes reflect diverse political tendencies; politics must now mirror the broader social spectrum. This raises the fundamental question of whether representation should be merely “acting on behalf of” or rather “acting as if one were” the represented.

Consequently, representative democracy is no longer the simple translation of votes into preselected politicians. It increasingly encompasses the demand for pluralism that reflects society’s diversity, with growing calls from various sectors for a seat at the table. In this sense, democracy has become more vibrant—thanks in large part to social activism.

Yet while historically marginalized social groups have gained ground and accelerated social integration after decades (and centuries) of exclusion, the so-called “silent majority” awoke in resentment, particularly after the 2008 crisis cast millions into uncertainty, reviving the category of the “have-nots.”

Alienated and angry, many fell prey to populist and demagogic narratives that promised to give them voice amidst a complex world of interdependent economies, international institutions like the IMF and the European Central Bank, distant political elites, and feelings of abandonment in peripheral regions (Mounk, 2018; Crouch, 2004).

Representative democracy—where people vote every four years for MPs they rarely see—started to seem like the enemy. Into this void entered radical right populism, promising direct democracy, dismantling liberal institutional checks and balances, and restoring order by targeting elites, immigrants, minorities, and the progressive media (Müller, 2016).

At the same time, young people are increasingly disenchanted and radicalized. Some polls show a growing preference for authoritarian or even military solutions among younger generations (Norris & Inglehart, 2019). The intergenerational gap in political expectations is widening, driven by feelings of economic stagnation, climate anxiety, and a perception that conventional politics lacks urgency and authenticity.

A crucial dimension of this crisis is the perceived irrelevance of political parties. Once central instruments of representation and social integration, parties are now often seen as closed ecosystems, dominated by professional politicians disconnected from everyday life. As Peter Mair (2013) argued in Ruling the Void, parties have increasingly withdrawn from civil society, becoming instruments of state management rather than democratic mediation. This erosion of intermediary structures has left citizens politically orphaned—searching for identity and belonging outside traditional institutions.

Compounding this, political elites frequently reproduce themselves through dynastic networks and clientelistic logic, further alienating citizens from the institutions that claim to represent them. Bernard Manin (1997) described the shift from party democracy to audience democracy, where visibility, media skills, and personal charisma often trump ideological coherence or programmatic depth.

Another factor intensifying the strain on representative democracy is the digital environment. While social media platforms initially promised to democratize public discourse, they have in fact created fragmented and polarized spheres of communication (Sunstein, 2017). Algorithms amplify outrage, misinformation spreads faster than correction, and filter bubbles isolate users from dissenting views. Zeynep Tufekci (2017) rightly warns that networked protest, though powerful in mobilization, often lacks the institutional leverage to produce durable change.

In this ecosystem, affect often supersedes argument. Political discourse is increasingly shaped by emotional resonance rather than factual coherence. Trust in institutions collapses, not merely because of poor performance, but due to a structural shift in how authority is perceived and contested.

Thus, representative democracy now finds itself under pressure from both sides: historically marginalized groups demanding a more inclusive society, and alienated majorities demanding a return to simplicity, order, and identity. In this dual crisis, democracy is pulled between the imperatives of inclusion and the backlash of exclusion.

Still, the core question remains: does representative democracy still make sense?

Paradoxically, the answer may be yes. But only if it undergoes deep reform. It must break with dynastic politics and party machinery, and become a truer mirror of society’s pluralism. It needs to reconnect with its purpose—not as a relic of Enlightenment rationalism, but as a living framework to mediate conflict, ensure fairness, and guarantee freedom (Rosanvallon, 2008; Mouffe, 2005).

Renewal must also involve institutional innovation. Mechanisms such as deliberative assemblies, civic juries, and participatory budgeting are no longer utopian experiments but necessary adaptations to rebuild trust. Likewise, the integration of minority voices and the opening of spaces for youth political engagement must become structural priorities, not merely rhetorical gestures.

Representative democracy should not be discarded as a decaying ruin, but renewed as an indispensable horizon—a system capable of withstanding both the tyranny of elites and the tyranny of the crowd.

 

References

Crouch, C. (2004). Post-Democracy. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Fung, A. (2006). “Varieties of participation in complex governance.” Public Administration Review, 66(s1), 66–75. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-6210.2006.00667.x

Madison, J. (1788). The Federalist No. 10. In: A. Hamilton, J. Madison, & J. Jay, The Federalist Papers. New York: Independent Journal.

Mair, P. (2013). Ruling the Void: The Hollowing of Western Democracy. London: Verso.

Manin, B. (1997). The Principles of Representative Government. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Mouffe, C. (2005). On the Political. London: Routledge.

Mounk, Y. (2018). The People vs. Democracy: Why Our Freedom Is in Danger and How to Save It. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Müller, J.-W. (2016). What Is Populism? Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Norris, P., & Inglehart, R. (2019). Cultural Backlash: Trump, Brexit, and Authoritarian Populism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Pitkin, H. F. (1967). The Concept of Representation. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Rosanvallon, P. (2008). La légitimité démocratique: Impartialité, réflexivité, proximité. Paris: Seuil.

Sunstein, C. R. (2017). #Republic: Divided Democracy in the Age of Social Media. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Tufekci, Z. (2017). Twitter and Tear Gas: The Power and Fragility of Networked Protest. New Haven: Yale University Press.