Associate Professor Ajay Gudavarthy of the Centre for Political Studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU).

Assoc. Prof Gudavarthy: India’s Opposition Cannot Break Majoritarianism Without Breaking Neoliberal Consensus

In this ECPS interview, Associate Professor Ajay Gudavarthy analyzes India’s 2026 state elections as a critical moment in the consolidation of Hindutva populism, neoliberal governance, and majoritarian politics. He argues that the BJP’s electoral successes cannot be understood merely as victories of cultural nationalism, but as part of a broader “hegemonic project” that fuses welfare delivery, infrastructural populism, caste reconfiguration, emotional polarization, and centralized state power. For Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy, the opposition’s crisis is not only electoral or organizational, but also ideological: it has failed to offer a compelling alternative to both majoritarianism and neoliberalism. As India moves toward 2029, he warns that “India’s opposition cannot break majoritarianism without breaking neoliberal consensus.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

India’s 2026 state elections have dramatically reshaped the country’s political landscape while intensifying debates over populism, democratic erosion, federalism, and the future of constitutional pluralism under Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The BJP’s historic breakthrough in West Bengal, consolidation in Assam, the continuing erosion of Left politics, and the disruptive rise of Vijay’s Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam (TVK) in Tamil Nadu together reveal a transformed political order increasingly structured by emotional polarization, welfare nationalism, charismatic leadership, cultural majoritarianism, and institutional centralization. At the same time, controversies surrounding voter-roll revisions, anti-Muslim rhetoric, bureaucratic exclusion, digital mobilization, and the growing fusion of state power with majoritarian narratives have deepened anxieties about the trajectory of India’s democracy and the resilience of its federal constitutional framework.

To examine these developments, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke with Associate Professor Ajay Gudavarthy of the Centre for Political Studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), one of India’s leading scholars of populism, political emotions, democratic transformation, and contemporary Hindutva politics. Across a wide-ranging conversation, Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy situates the BJP’s electoral successes within what he describes as a broader “hegemonic project” that combines neoliberal governance, infrastructural populism, cultural nationalism, and emotive majoritarian mobilization.

For Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy, the significance of the 2026 elections lies not simply in the BJP’s electoral victories, but in the deeper social and ideological reconfiguration underpinning them. He argues that “market integration, modernity, and modern technology do not necessarily dilute traditional religious or caste identities. On the contrary, they can strengthen them further by nationalizing them and making them even more emotive.” In this sense, contemporary Hindutva emerges not merely as a nationalist ideology, but as a comprehensive populist assemblage linking “big development, big growth, majoritarian imagination, and a theocratic centralized state” with charismatic leadership and welfare delivery.

A central theme running throughout the interview is Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy’s insistence that the BJP’s dominance cannot be understood apart from the persistence of neoliberal consensus in India. According to him, the opposition’s crisis is not only organizational or electoral, but also ideological and cultural. “The opposition cannot effectively challenge majoritarian consensus without simultaneously confronting neoliberal consensus,” he argues. “The crucial question as India approaches 2029 is whether the opposition will be able to articulate a radical social democratic agenda capable of breaking neoliberal consensus and, through that, also disrupting the majoritarian political imagination.”

Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy further contends that the BJP has successfully transformed cultural nationalism into a hegemonic social condition by combining aspirational development with affective politics centered on belonging, civilizational memory, and anxieties surrounding immigration, identity, and social insecurity. Drawing on thinkers such as Antonio Gramsci, Michel Foucault, Zygmunt Bauman, David Goodhart, and Partha Chatterjee, he explains how populist politics in India increasingly operates through what he calls the convergence of “right-wing populism and subaltern pragmatism.”

At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Gudavarthy cautions against reducing the current conjuncture to irreversible authoritarian consolidation. While he acknowledges that the BJP has succeeded in constructing “a comprehensive hegemonic project built around a powerful cultural narrative,” he also identifies growing “social, political, and constitutional excesses” as potential openings for democratic resistance.

This interview offers a theoretically rich and empirically grounded exploration of how populism, neoliberalism, emotions, welfare politics, and majoritarian nationalism are reshaping democratic politics in contemporary India—and what these transformations may mean for the future of democracy as the country moves toward 2029.

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

Bengal’s Parallel History of Right-Wing Mobilization

West Bengal.
Cyclists participate in a political procession on the streets of Kolkata, West Bengal, India. Photo: Arindam Chowdhury | Dreamstime.

Professor Gudavarthy, welcome. In your work, you conceptualize contemporary Hindutva as a form of populist hegemony that fuses neoliberal governance, cultural nationalism, and emotive majoritarianism. To what extent does the BJP’s breakthrough in West Bengal represent the consolidation of such a hegemonic formation in a region historically shaped by anti-colonial cosmopolitanism, Left politics, and subaltern mobilization?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: Bengal is not marked only by anti-colonial cosmopolitanism and subaltern politics; it has also had a parallel history shaped by Partition in 1950. It is interesting to note that the term Hindutva itself was coined by Chandranath Basu in the 19th century. Later, in the 20th century, Savarkar—who became the principal ideologue of the BJP and the RSS, the right-wing cultural organization in India—transformed it into a political ideology. 

In fact, in 1951, the Jansangh, the predecessor of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), was founded by Shyama Prasad Mukherjee, who himself came from Bengal. His primary concern during Partition was the condition of Hindu refugees arriving from Bangladesh. It is also significant that after the BJP’s victory in Bengal, Narendra Modi invoked the memory and political legacy of Shyama Prasad Mukherjee.

In that sense, Bengal always had a parallel history of right-wing mobilization, which under the current regime has been transformed into a populist mobilization combining emotive majoritarianism with a narrative of Muslim appeasement allegedly practiced by Mamata Banerjee and the Trinamool Congress.

At the same time, one also witnesses the terminal decline of the Left and of working-class and peasant mobilization around social and egalitarian issues in Bengal. The Left itself has increasingly operated within the broader neoliberal consensus, which has contributed to this shift. In parallel, sections of the middle class have moved toward the BJP because of its aspirational narrative centered on growth and development—big growth, big development.

As a result, one sees a broader Hindu consolidation, with sections of the middle class and the bhadralok (gentleman, Bengali for the new class of ‘gentlefolk’) moving toward the BJP, alongside shifts among Dalit and subaltern groups as well. Altogether, this has produced a comprehensive social reconfiguration, accompanied by the electoral malpractices that became visible in the recent Assembly elections.

Caste, Purity, and the Imagined Infiltrator

You have argued that contemporary right-wing populism in India thrives through the simultaneous production of “hierarchical fraternity” and “polarized differences.” How do the 2026 elections—particularly in West Bengal and Assam—demonstrate the ability of the BJP to forge cross-class Hindu consolidation while intensifying the political marginalization of Muslims and migrant populations?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: What the BJP does, if you look at its broader political strategy, is to construct a sense of cultural unity in response to growing social conflicts. If you look at states such as Assam and Bengal, there is undoubtedly a new kind of Hindu consolidation emerging behind the BJP, built around the trumped-up narrative of “Muslim infiltrators” coming from Bangladesh. This imagined figure of the immigrant creates deep anxieties among the local Hindu population.

In this context, I would recall the writings of cultural sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, who argued that Europe also went through a similar phase of anxiety surrounding immigrants. He makes the interesting observation that immigrants generate anxiety because they remind the well-off indigenous or local population that they, too, could end up in a similarly precarious position—without basic rights, legal protection, or social security. This is precisely the kind of anxiety that the BJP and the RSS have successfully cultivated among the Hindu majority: the fear that large-scale “infiltration” will produce a citizenship crisis, intensify competition over resources, and create multiple related insecurities.

At the same time, the Indian context differs from the European one because the narrative of infiltration intersects with caste mobilization and caste consciousness, both of which are rooted in the purity-pollution model. India already possesses a dominant collective subconscious structured around notions of purity and pollution. In other words, the hierarchical order of the caste system has historically produced multiple forms of exclusion. The infiltrator thus becomes the new “other,” identified with the polluted outsider, in contrast to the pure, authentic, local, indigenous population.

Nationalized Markets, Nationalized Hindutva

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

In your theorization of populism, the “authentic people” are not merely electorally aggregated but affectively produced through narratives of injury, humiliation, and civilizational recovery. How did the BJP’s Bengal campaign operationalize this politics of authenticity, especially through the rhetoric of “infiltration,” women’s insecurity, corruption, and anti-elite resentment?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: Part of the issue surrounding “infiltration” I have already explained. But the broader theoretical point I would make is that, in post-neoliberal and post-globalization India, market integration and the expansion of market forces at the national level have been unfolding in parallel with the discourse of nationalist Hinduization.

People who are becoming increasingly integrated into the market through technology and expanding economic opportunities are also—somehow, and this requires careful theorization—developing a collective consciousness centered on a pan-national Hindu identity. In other words, the emergence of a pan-national standardized market is becoming coterminous with a pan-national ethnic, theocratic, and majoritarian identity.

The important question, then, is why the spread of markets and the greater integration of social groups into market structures—which standardize social aspirations, social status, and forms of social integration—also contribute to the consolidation of a majoritarian imagination. This is something we need to theorize further.

Market integration, modernity, and modern technology do not necessarily dilute traditional religious or caste identities. On the contrary, they can strengthen them further by nationalizing them and making them even more emotive.

How Populism Links Growth, Identity, and Memory

You have written extensively about the role of emotions—fear, anxiety, resentment, betrayal, shame, and moral injury—in sustaining the contemporary Right. Which affective registers do you believe were most politically consequential in these elections, and how were they transformed into durable electoral consent rather than episodic outrage?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: I have long argued in my writings on populism that anti-secular discourse, which we often understand primarily as exclusionary and majoritarian, also overlaps with an anti-elitist discourse and mode of political mobilization. Today, parties associated with secularism, cosmopolitanism, and multiculturalism are increasingly perceived as elitist formations. This creates an important conjuncture that we need to decode more carefully: why secularism in many post-colonial societies has come to signify an elitist discourse.

A useful reference here is David Goodhart’s The Road to Somewhere, where he distinguishes between the “Anywheres” and the “Somewheres.” Goodhart argues that contemporary societies are increasingly divided between a small cosmopolitan class of “Anywheres” and a much larger provincial population of “Somewheres” seeking to recover their local roots and cultural belonging.

Something similar is unfolding in states such as Bengal and Assam. The more Bengal seeks integration with the market, globalization, and economic opportunity, the more it simultaneously searches for its local roots and civilizational identity. At the same time, it is also turning backward, politically and emotionally, by reviving memories of Partition.

This relationship between the global and the local is both a fascinating and crucial dynamic in populist mobilization. Populist politics simultaneously advances a hyper-modernist discourse centered on corporate economy, infrastructure, and high growth, while also mobilizing localized identities, cultural idioms, ethnic belonging, purity, and authenticity. These two tendencies do not contradict one another; rather, they reinforce each other.

That is precisely what Bengal has witnessed. Bengal has not experienced particularly high economic growth. After three decades of communist and Left rule, Bengal—and Kolkata in particular—remains one of the cheapest urban spaces in the world. It has retained a pro-poor social structure: street food is inexpensive, and housing and real estate remain relatively affordable.

At the same time, however, there emerged an aspirational middle class—the bhadralok and caste Hindus—who became dissatisfied with this image of Kolkata because it lacked swanky malls, large highways, and visible symbols of affluence and modernization.

As a result, the aspirational desire for greater market integration has also produced a stronger attraction toward authentic mobilization and identity-based politics. This parallel and mutually reinforcing process has been extremely beneficial for BJP mobilization because the party simultaneously invokes an authentic Hindu identity and a corporatized global economy.

Constitutional Discourse Needs Cultural Symbolism

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

In “Politics, Ethics and Emotions in ‘New India’,” you suggest that liberal-democratic frameworks often fail to adequately engage the emotional foundations of political belonging. Do the opposition’s defeats in West Bengal and elsewhere reveal not merely an organizational crisis, but a deeper inability to articulate a compelling emotional and ethical counter-public to Hindutva nationalism?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: Absolutely, there is no doubt about it. In some of my recent writings, I have argued that the current moment in India is fundamentally shaped by a conflict between a constitutional discourse and a cultural discourse. The constitutional discourse speaks the language of constitutional morality, justice, egalitarianism, and inclusion. The cultural discourse, by contrast, revolves around cultural nationalism, belonging, civilizational memory, and the politics of the past. This is the central conflict unfolding in contemporary India. My argument has been that constitutional discourse, despite its progressive and inclusive character, often lacks the emotional and affective depth that cultural and civilizational narratives are capable of generating.

Therefore, I am not suggesting that one should abandon constitutional discourse. Rather, the challenge is to connect constitutional discourse to cultural narratives. There has to be a cultural symbolism attached to constitutional discourse. Otherwise, what we are witnessing today is that the BJP and the RSS are successfully projecting constitutional discourse as an elite discourse. Consequently, BJP mobilization begins to appear as a form of subaltern backlash, which in turn contributes to democratic backsliding. 

This is the conundrum we need to overcome. Secular, progressive, Left, and social democratic parties remain particularly weak when it comes to articulating compelling cultural narratives. After 15 years of populist rule in India, I would still hesitate to say that opposition parties possess a credible cultural narrative of their own. What might such a narrative look like? Can opposition forces draw upon myths, mythologies, historical memory, and broader cultural resources in order to reinforce constitutional discourse? I believe India’s long civilizational history offers ample resources for doing so.

If one turns to a historian like Romila Thapar, she argues that India’s collective subconscious is fundamentally shaped by dissent. Beginning with Buddhism, continuing through the Bhakti movement, and extending to Bhagat Singh—what I call the “three Bs”: Buddhism, the Bhakti movement, and Bhagat Singh—Indian history contains multiple traditions deeply rooted in dissent. So, why have opposition parties failed to construct a parallel historical and cultural narrative capable of demonstrating that constitutional discourse is not merely a modernist framework borrowed from outside, but something that also emerges organically from India’s own historical experience? India possesses a long history of struggle, subaltern culture, and subaltern mobilization. I think opposition parties have completely failed to establish that connection.

Voter Deletions as a Tool of Political Exclusion

How should we interpret the controversy surrounding the deletion of millions of names from electoral rolls in West Bengal? Does this episode signal a transition from electoral majoritarianism toward what might be called a procedural or administrative majoritarianism, where democratic legitimacy is increasingly mediated through bureaucratic exclusion?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: Absolutely, there is no doubt about it. If you look at the Bengal results, the data that emerged afterward made it extremely clear that 27 lakh (100K) voters had been deleted from the electoral rolls. The difference between the BJP, the winning party, and the TMC was 15 lakhs. Most of the 27 lakh deleted voters were Muslims. That, effectively, is the margin. Had the TMC received those remaining 27 lakh votes—which were essentially Muslim votes—it would have won the election.

So electoral roll manipulation and voter deletions are undoubtedly a key part of the BJP’s strategy. That is not to say the BJP won only because of exclusions, because the party still secured around 35–40% of the vote on its own. The crucial factor, however, was the remaining 5% edge. Both parties had roughly 40%, but it was this additional 5% advantage, produced through what I would call illegal and illegitimate electoral deletions, that ultimately determined the difference between victory and defeat.

Having said that, I should also add that the opposition has failed to transform electoral deletions into an issue of mass mobilization. Opposition parties are claiming that 27 lakh voters were removed, but one can legitimately ask: why have they been unable to bring those affected onto the streets? Why have there been no large-scale popular demonstrations around these exclusions?

This raises a deeper question: can electoral malpractice become an issue of popular mobilization? Can it be transformed into a mass political issue? As I have argued, issues such as electoral malpractice and electoral deletions through special intensive revision have largely remained confined to political parties themselves. The BJP has successfully converted elections into an intra-elite issue.

As a result, it appears as though political parties are merely fighting among themselves, while the everyday concerns of ordinary people remain absent from public debate. None of the political parties are seriously talking about joblessness, unemployment, inflation, and other bread-and-butter issues affecting common people.

What the BJP has done very effectively is to confine opposition parties within an administrative and procedural domain, while simultaneously offering a powerful cultural narrative and, at another level, delivering welfare policies more effectively on the ground. Consequently, the BJP appears to be the party most connected to the masses and to mass mobilization, whereas the opposition remains preoccupied with its own survival and with issues such as electoral malpractice, the role of the Chief Election Commission, and constitutional violations.

These are not perceived as mass issues. And the opposition has failed to understand that, even if it wants to mobilize people around such concerns, it must connect them to the concrete realities of everyday life. The opposition is once again failing to establish that connection between macro-level administrative issues and the micro realities of ordinary people’s lives.

Muslim fruit vendors
Muslim fruit vendors sell produce from handcarts on a street in Junagadh, Gujarat, India, on January 18, 2015. Photo: Rafał Cichawa | Dreamstime.

How Neoliberal Transactionalism Weakens Federal Resistance

In your engagement with populism and authenticity, you note that populist regimes often combine claims of democratic immediacy with institutional centralization. How do these election outcomes reshape the balance between India’s federal structure and the BJP’s increasingly unitary imagination of sovereignty and governance?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: This is a very important question because Indian electoral autocracy has had its most direct impact on India’s federal structure. One of the key reasons India remained an open, functional, and inclusive democracy for so long was precisely because of its federal framework. India is constitutionally described as a union of states—federal in structure, though with unitary features. As a result, states historically enjoyed a considerable degree of autonomy, including substantial financial devolution from the center.

Since the BJP came to power, however, it has systematically altered state-center relations. The party has initiated a process of extreme centralization, increasingly making states financially dependent on the center. At the same time, I would also stress another important question: despite this steady erosion of state autonomy and the expansion of patronage networks controlled by the center, why is there so little public anger within the states themselves? Thirty or forty years ago, if the center had overridden state autonomy in this manner, there would have been widespread public unrest. People would have taken to the streets over issues such as the imposition of Hindi, disputes over financial devolution, or the blocking of economic opportunities.

To understand this transformation, we need to return to the neoliberal reforms India underwent in the 1990s. In my recent writings, I have argued that neoliberalism is not merely an economic phenomenon; it is also a cultural phenomenon. Neoliberalism reshapes consciousness itself. It transforms how people understand social and political processes. Increasingly, citizens are encouraged to think in transactional terms, in terms of quid pro quo (something for something) relationships. This is where the BJP has been particularly effective. It argues that states should align politically with the center. If the BJP governs both the center and the state, then the state will receive greater funding. If a state refuses alignment, funding is restricted.

Indeed, opposition-ruled states across India have experienced such financial restrictions. One can constitutionally critique this practice by asking how the BJP can withhold programs such as MNREGA (The Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act), one of India’s largest rural employment welfare schemes. In many non-BJP states, such funds have been curtailed or delayed, despite the fact that such actions are constitutionally questionable.

Yet once again, the deeper question remains: why has this not generated large-scale protests against the center or the BJP? I would argue that this shift reflects a broader transformation in social behavior. People increasingly think in transactional terms and therefore come to believe that it is more beneficial for states to align with the center in order to secure resources and financial support. Wherever the BJP governs both the center and the state, those states tend to receive greater funding. And, at least for now, many people appear willing to accept this arrangement. Confronting the center or mobilizing mass protest is no longer widely seen as an effective way to secure economic benefits.

This points to a much deeper transformation in the social character of the Indian state itself. India was once a more centrist polity, but today it has increasingly moved toward a model shaped by corporate global capitalism. The older tensions between regional elites and the national bourgeois elite have significantly weakened. There are many economic and political-economic reasons behind this transformation, and one cannot go into all of them here. But broadly speaking, I would argue that it is the neoliberal and transactional character of contemporary social behavior that is enabling the BJP to erode the federal structure with relatively little resistance.

Subaltern Pragmatism and the Decline of Dissent

The BJP’s victory in West Bengal appears symbolically significant because Bengal historically represented an intellectual and political counterweight to Hindu nationalism. Do you see this result as marking the exhaustion of older secular-progressive political cultures, or their inability to adapt to the changing grammar of contemporary populist mobilization?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: Absolutely. As I mentioned earlier, the opposition is struggling to develop a new social and cultural imagination. Today, the central conflict in India is increasingly between the Constitution on one hand and culture on the other. In the post-neoliberal period, there have been no significant new developments on the cultural front. Questions of dignity and equality, for instance, are increasingly being tied to consumption and aspirational lifestyles. I would, therefore, argue that a certain form of subaltern pragmatism has emerged, and that post-neoliberal populist mobilization in India is closely linked to this pragmatism. This convergence between right-wing populism and subaltern pragmatism is something we need to explore more seriously, because it has effectively pushed opposition parties into a political cul-de-sac.

Today, I would even argue that protest itself has become a site of privilege in India. By and large, people increasingly perceive those who protest as privileged individuals—people who possess the social grounding and security necessary to take to the streets and confront power. In everyday life, however, protest is no longer widely viewed as the natural response, despite India’s long history of dissent. In the post-neoliberal era, this political imagination has undergone a profound transformation: while elites continue to engage in protest politics, subaltern groups are increasingly turning toward what might be described as contextual negotiations.

This is what the postcolonial scholar Partha Chatterjee refers to in Politics of the Governed as “contextual negotiations.” Although Chatterjee himself does not fully elaborate on the long-term consequences of this process, I would argue that one major consequence of these pragmatic and contextual forms of subaltern politics has been the rise of unchecked theocratic majoritarianism.

People are no longer engaging with larger political questions. As a result, there is now a profound vacuum in political imagination. What opposition parties urgently need to do is find ways to connect larger questions—democracy, constitutionalism, equality, and justice—to the everyday lived realities of ordinary people. Otherwise, these ideas risk becoming little more than slogans of the privileged and the elite.

From Citizenship Rights to Hindu Developmentalism

BJP supporters celebrate Narendra Modi’s victory during the 2019 assembly elections in Bhopal, India. Photo: Dreamstime.

In your writings, you distinguish between earlier developmental populisms and the contemporary fusion of welfare politics with authoritarian mobilization. How does the BJP’s model of welfare delivery—framed through personalized leadership, direct transfers, and symbolic nationalism—reshape the relationship between citizenship, dependency, and political loyalty?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: That is a very important question. Some scholars in India have described the BJP’s approach to welfare as a form of “new welfarism.” The central thrust of this model lies in infrastructural development—what is often referred to in the literature as infrastructural populism. One important example is the way the BJP constructs major highways and transport corridors. These roads are frequently designed to connect significant pilgrimage and religious centers. For instance, when large infrastructural quadrangles are developed, they often link multiple major pilgrimage sites across India. In this way, infrastructural development becomes deeply intertwined with cultural and religious symbolism.

This has been one of the BJP’s major political masterstrokes: linking infrastructural development to cultural meaning and attaching what Michel Foucault might describe as a cultural heterotopia to physical space. Infrastructure is no longer merely functional. Roads, highways, and high-speed developmental projects increasingly acquire cultural and, more specifically, religious meanings. The BJP then connects these religious meanings to broader narratives of religious majoritarianism and cultural unity. As a consequence, the discourse of welfare and development gradually shifts away from citizenship. Citizens are no longer positioned as rights-bearing subjects demanding development. Instead, development itself becomes linked to a culturally defined nationalist Hindu identity.

Part of what this process does is displace the discourse of rights. It weakens the normative language of constitutional morality, inclusion, and equality. In that sense, the BJP is engaged in a very deep symbolic political project, and it is executing it with remarkable effectiveness, which helps explain its repeated electoral successes. What makes this political imagination so powerful is its comprehensiveness: large-scale development, rapid economic growth, majoritarian cultural identity, a centralized theocratic state, and a personality cult all come together as a single political package. I would describe this as a populist assemblage. Precisely because this assemblage is so comprehensive, it leaves very little political space for the opposition to articulate an alternative vision. That is why the opposition urgently needs to construct what, in Gramscian terms, would be a counter-hegemonic cultural narrative capable of disrupting this assemblage.

Post-Ideological Populism in Tamil Nadu

Tamil Nadu’s election introduced a different populist phenomenon through Vijay’s TVK, rooted less in overt majoritarianism than in celebrity-mediated anti-establishment politics. How should scholars conceptualize this development: as a post-ideological populism, a digitally mediated “Gen-Z populism,” or a reconfiguration of Dravidian political idioms under neoliberal conditions?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: That is, again, a wonderful question. The rise of Mr. Vijay and TVK in Tamil Nadu has been one of the biggest surprises of the recent elections. And I think your framing is quite accurate: should this phenomenon be understood as a form of post-ideological populism, or as a reconfiguration of Dravidian political idioms under contemporary conditions? I would argue that it is actually a combination of both.

Support for Mr. Vijay appears to have come primarily from three social groups: women, Gen-Z voters attracted by his celebrity status and star power, and Dalits, who remain at the bottom of India’s caste hierarchy. This development has to be understood within the broader transformation of Indian politics. Both the BJP and newer political formations such as TVK are emerging by strategically engaging with existing social structures within Indian society. Many earlier progressive and secular movements—including the Dravidian movements that emerged in the 1950s and 1960s—eventually became associated with the interests of dominant caste groups, especially dominant OBC (The Other Backward Class) castes, whether in North India or South India.

One of the BJP’s major political strategies has been its ability to penetrate smaller caste groups, mobilize them politically, and isolate older progressive parties that once represented broader social coalitions. In North India, for instance, many backward-caste parties have gradually become identified with only one or two dominant sub-castes. The BJP has then consolidated the remaining sub-castes against these dominant groups. So, this is a highly complex political process. What parties like the BJP—and now TVK in the South—are doing is constructing a new social configuration by mobilizing new social groups within a broadly post-ideological framework.

The important question, however, is why these parties keep their social agendas deliberately vague, even while mobilizing new constituencies. Under Mr. Vijay, TVK did not announce any major social or ideological program. Although there are now suggestions that it may evolve into a welfare-oriented party, there is still little clarity. The party did not position itself as explicitly social democratic or ideologically committed in any conventional sense. Instead, it deliberately kept people guessing.

In that sense, TVK functioned as a kind of empty political category—mobilizing older social structures while simultaneously creating space for Gen-Z voters to enter politics through the appeal of celebrity culture and star power.

Authoritarianism as a Middle-Class Phenomenon

Your work often situates Indian populism within a broader global conjuncture of authoritarian-democratic transformations. How do the 2026 state election results compare with analogous developments elsewhere—such as Erdoğan’s Turkey, Orbán’s Hungary, Bolsonaro’s Brazil, or Trump-era America—in terms of institutional capture, emotional polarization, and the remaking of “the people”?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: This is a very important comparison. I have myself worked comparatively on movements such as Occupy Wall Street in the United States, the Free Fare Movement in Brazil, the autonomy movement in Egypt, and the anti-corruption movement in India roughly a decade ago. One of the central conclusions I arrived at was that, by and large, authoritarianism across these different contexts has been strongly supported by the middle class. In that sense, authoritarianism today is fundamentally a middle-class phenomenon. Historically, if one goes back to the 1950s, the middle class served as the social base of democracy and the welfare state. But we have now moved into a phase where authoritarianism itself is increasingly emerging through middle-class consensus.

The more important question, however, concerns the subaltern classes: why are subaltern groups often indifferent to authoritarianism, and how exactly are they responding to it? One of the most interesting findings from my own field surveys was that what appears to middle-class, social democratic, or progressive observers as authoritarianism is often perceived very differently on the ground. For many people, it appears not as authoritarianism, but as being authoritative. This distinction between authoritarianism and being authoritative is conceptually very important for understanding populist mobilization. When people describe leaders as authoritative, they often mean that such leaders possess a stronger grip over governance and are therefore capable of delivering outcomes more decisively and effectively.

What progressive critics may interpret as authoritarianism is therefore experienced differently by subaltern groups, particularly under conditions of growing economic insecurity and social anxiety. In such contexts, people increasingly look toward paternalistic leadership. That is one of the reasons we are witnessing a broader convergence between paternalism and libertarian neoliberalism. And this combination is precisely what seems to be operating across many of these different political contexts.

Breaking Majoritarianism Requires Breaking Neoliberalism

Members of the All India Muslim Students Federation (MSF) protest against the Karnataka Government’s Hijab ban in educational institutions, at Delhi University, New Delhi, India, on February 9, 2022. Photo: Pradeep Gaurs.

And finally, Prof. Gudavarthy, do these elections indicate the emergence of what Antonio Gramsci might call a “new historic bloc” under Hindutva—one capable of integrating welfare beneficiaries, aspirational middle classes, sections of subaltern castes, and corporate power into a relatively stable majoritarian order—or do you see unresolved contradictions that could still destabilize this project in the lead-up to 2029?

Assoc. Prof. Ajay Gudavarthy: That is a wonderful question with which to conclude our conversation. As Antonio Gramsci argued, hegemony is fundamentally a social condition. It is not something simply imposed from above. Rather, hegemony emerges when social conditions are created in such a way that people are organically drawn to give their consent. That, essentially, is what Gramsci means by hegemony. And I think that, to a considerable extent, the BJP has succeeded in constructing precisely such a hegemonic order.

Through its reconfiguration of caste contradictions and social conflicts, the BJP has advanced a cultural narrative of unity while simultaneously rendering social groups and individuals vulnerable to incorporation within that project of cultural unity. In that sense, there is indeed a comprehensive hegemonic project built around a powerful cultural narrative. At the same time, however, I would caution against assuming that this process is irreversible. The BJP’s majoritarian consensus is also producing social, political, and constitutional excesses. And that, in fact, remains the principal opening available to the opposition if it seeks to challenge and disrupt this majoritarian populist consensus.

A second and equally important point is that the opposition cannot effectively challenge majoritarian consensus without simultaneously confronting neoliberal consensus. The opposition will have to articulate a genuine alternative social agenda—free education, education as a public good, universal healthcare as a public good, the right to work, and full employment. These could become transformative political demands. But the problem, as we can clearly see, is that the opposition in India still largely operates within the ideological terrain of neoliberalism. Despite remaining out of power for nearly fifteen years, it has yet to formulate a coherent and compelling alternative.

So, the crucial question as India approaches 2029 is whether the opposition will be able to articulate a radical social democratic agenda capable of breaking neoliberal consensus and, through that, also disrupting the majoritarian political imagination. That is the real counter-hegemonic project the opposition needs to construct. It cannot challenge majoritarian consolidation without also challenging neoliberal consensus.

At present, however, the opposition is attempting to resist majoritarianism primarily through constitutional discourse alone, and not even through a sufficiently compelling cultural narrative. What is required instead is a simultaneous effort to challenge majoritarianism through a counter-cultural project, a renewed constitutional discourse, and a decisive break with neoliberal consensus. That will remain one of the most important political questions to watch as India moves toward 2029.

Alexandre Lefebvre is a Professor of Politics and Philosophy and Chair of Discipline, Philosophy at the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at The University of Sydney.

Prof. Lefebvre: Liberals Must Become More Generous with Both Their Resources and Their Attention to Others

In this ECPS interview, Professor Alexandre Lefebvre of The University of Sydney argues that liberalism’s crisis is not merely institutional but also ethical and existential. Against populist and post-liberal portrayals of liberalism as morally hollow, elitist, and radically individualistic, Professor Lefebvre insists that liberalism historically rested on “freedom and generosity, liberty and liberality.” Yet neoliberalism, he argues, “forgot one half of this tradition,” narrowing liberalism into a doctrine of individual freedom, market rationality, and procedural neutrality. For Professor Lefebvre, liberal renewal requires recovering liberalism as a “way of life” grounded in fairness, reciprocity, moral self-reflection, and generosity. His remedy is clear: liberals must become “more generous with their resources and more generous in the attention they give to others.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

At a moment when liberal democracy is confronting intensifying pressures—from populist radical-right mobilization and democratic backsliding to widening distrust in institutions and deepening social fragmentation—the future of liberalism has become one of the defining political and philosophical questions of our time. Across much of the contemporary world, liberalism is increasingly portrayed as morally exhausted, technocratic, elitist, and detached from the existential concerns of ordinary citizens. In political discourse, it is frequently reduced either to market orthodoxy or procedural neutrality, stripped of any deeper ethical or cultural substance. Against this backdrop, the work of Professor Alexandre Lefebvre offers a strikingly different interpretation of the liberal tradition.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Lefebvre—Professor of Politics and Philosophy and Chair of Discipline, Philosophy at the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at The University of Sydney—argues that liberalism cannot survive as a purely procedural doctrine. Rather, it must recover its ethical, existential, and even spiritual dimensions if it is to respond effectively to the global rise of illiberalism and populism. Central to his argument is the claim that liberalism historically contained not only a commitment to freedom, but also to generosity. As he puts it, liberalism originally rested on “two fundamental values at its core,” namely “freedom and generosity, liberty and liberality.” Yet, according to Professor Lefebvre, neoliberalism emerged when liberal societies “forgot one half of this tradition” and elevated freedom while neglecting generosity, solidarity, and fairness.

Throughout the interview, Professor Lefebvre challenges widespread assumptions about liberalism’s moral emptiness. While acknowledging that many populist critiques rely on “an unfair and highly reductive interpretation of what liberalism actually stands for,” he nevertheless argues that liberals themselves have often “invited this criticism by effectively performing the role of the caricature.” Liberalism’s retreat into technocracy, proceduralism, and elite self-management, he contends, has weakened its emotional and moral appeal while intensifying public perceptions of inequality and exclusion. “Liberalism,” he warns, “has to rediscover generosity and solidarity through institutions rooted in justice and fairness.”

Drawing on thinkers ranging from John Rawls and Henri Bergson to Aristotle and John Stuart Mill, Professor Lefebvre develops a conception of liberalism not simply as a political arrangement, but as a “way of life” shaping everyday practices, relationships, and moral sensibilities. He argues that liberal democracies are facing not merely an institutional crisis, but “an existential crisis” rooted in the erosion of meaning, belonging, and ethical orientation.

Perhaps most strikingly, Professor Lefebvre insists that the renewal of liberal democracy depends less on technocratic management than on moral reconstruction. Liberalism, he argues, must once again become capable of inspiring attachment, solidarity, and self-reflection without succumbing to authoritarian perfectionism. In his concluding remarks, he summarizes this challenge with remarkable clarity: “If I had two wishes for liberalism, they would be these: that liberals become more generous with their resources and more generous in the attention they give to others.”

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Alexandre Lefebvre, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Liberalism Beyond Markets

Photo: Edgars Sermulis / Dreamstime.

Professor Lefebvre, welcome. You emphasize the plurality of liberal traditions rather than a singular doctrine. How would you analytically distinguish ethical or perfectionist liberalism from neoliberalism, particularly in terms of their respective conceptions of freedom, subjectivity, and the role of the state? What conceptual clarifications are necessary to remedy the persistent conflation between them?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is a great—and very large—question. As I understand liberalism, it has two fundamental values at its core, and this goes back to the original meaning of the word “liberal,” which is a very old Latin term. It refers not only to being a free person, but also to being a generous person. Throughout the 19th century, and at various moments in the 20th century, these two dimensions were understood together as part of a shared ethical vision of what it meant to be both free and generous. So, when I speak of a robust ethical conception of liberalism, I am referring not only to freedom and liberty, but also to generosity and liberality.

The way I understand neoliberalism—and many strands of liberalism as they evolved during the 20th century—is that they forgot one half of this tradition and increasingly amplified the importance of freedom or liberty while neglecting the generosity aspect. They created institutions and mindsets designed to ensure that individuals would be free from constraint, reflecting a predominantly negative conception of liberty, especially in relation to market activity and marketplace freedoms. In my view, this development gave rise to neoliberalism. So, I would still place neoliberalism within the broader liberal family, but it seems to me to represent a narrowing of the tradition—a forgetting of half of what liberalism originally was.

Reclaiming Liberalism’s Ethical Mission

To what extent should neoliberalism be understood as a historical mutation internal to liberalism rather than an external distortion, especially given its reconfiguration of liberal values around market rationality and responsibilization—and how might liberal theory critically reclaim or disentangle itself from this legacy?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is a very good question. The history of the 20th century can be understood as a fascinating reworking of liberalism, marked by different episodes that all sought to make liberalism somewhat narrower. To answer your question about neoliberalism, however, I first need to make two short stops along the way.

The term “classical liberalism” is familiar to all of us, but when you stop to think about it, it is actually a rather strange expression. The people who invented liberalism in the 19th century did not describe themselves as “classical”; they were simply liberals. It would be like an original gangster referring to themselves as an “original gangster”—they are just gangsters, right? The same logic applies to liberalism.

What happened was that a “classical liberal” tradition was constructed in the early 20th century because certain liberals of that period— Ludwig von Mises, Milton Friedman, and Gary Becker, the proto-neoliberals—were deeply concerned about the socialistic, redistributive, and justice-oriented dimensions of liberalism. As a result, they narrowed the tradition, transforming liberalism into a doctrine centered primarily on individual freedom. That tradition then underwent multiple mutations throughout the 20th century, eventually yielding the form of neoliberalism that emerged in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.

What liberalism needs today—and this connects directly to the way you framed the introduction, namely that liberalism is currently on the defensive in the face of democratic backsliding and a range of political challengers—is to become both more robust and more attractive. Part of that involves reclaiming its ethical mission and once again presenting itself as an aspirational ethical doctrine. Another part involves recovering its more justice-oriented material dimension – “socialist” is probably too strong a word, but something closer to that tradition.

In these respects, liberalism could begin to offer something stronger and far more compelling than the version of neoliberalism currently on the table. Because I do not think neoliberalism is particularly well positioned to withstand the kinds of challenges we are seeing today, from populism to resurgent nationalism and related movements.

Why Neoliberalism Failed

Tea Party protest.
Tea Party protest rally in Boston, Massachusetts. The demonstration, attended by roughly 5,000 people, took place near the historic site of the original Boston Tea Party. Photo: Dreamstime.

Illiberal populist actors frequently portray liberalism as morally hollow, elitist, and culturally corrosive. To what extent is this misrecognition rooted in liberalism’s own failure to articulate its ethical and existential dimensions—and how might liberalism reconstruct its normative language to counter such distortions?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: A book that made a major impact about a decade ago—and that, in many ways, helped launch the post-liberal movement—is Why Liberalism Failed by Patrick Deneen. But, for me at least, the book might have been more accurately titled “Why Neoliberalism Failed,” because what it primarily attacks is the idea that liberal subjectivity consists solely of an individualistic, atomized self-seeking to detach itself—or “him or herself,” or “itself,” as Deneen would put it—from all forms of particular attachment.

So, I do think that many post-liberal critiques rely on an ungenerous and somewhat strawman version of liberalism that fails to capture the richness and complexity of the tradition. That is one side of the story.

On the other hand, the critique is also partially correct. I wrote a book called Liberalism as a Way of Life, and while half of that book is a celebration of liberalism, the other half is a critique of how liberals themselves are often very poor practitioners of liberalism. Too often, they abandon its more demanding ethical, political, and economic aspirations and settle instead for something closer to neoliberalism.

So, when conservatives criticize liberalism as individualistic and morally thin, that criticism is, on the one hand, an unfair characterization of the broader liberal tradition. But on the other hand, it may also reflect, quite accurately, what liberalism has unfortunately become in many contemporary contexts.

The Betrayal of Fairness

How has the reduction of liberalism to procedural neutrality and technocratic governance contributed to its vulnerability to populist critique, particularly from the radical right—and what institutional or intellectual reforms could overcome this narrowing?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: What I find particularly devastating is that, if liberalism wants to pride itself on expertise, procedure, and economic management, it cannot continue to present itself as the party of fairness and opportunity while managing resources and opportunities in ways that disproportionately benefit elites. That is precisely what has so often happened with liberalism today. In the narrowing you describe; there is also a kind of class politics at work in which elites effectively self-deal.

What has contributed to this narrowing of liberalism is not simply a retreat into technocracy, but also a deeply toxic combination in which liberalism has come to signify many things. One of those meanings—particularly in the United States—is progressivism and a political movement ostensibly committed to fairness. Yet, at the same time, our societies have rarely been as unequal and structurally imbalanced as they are today.

So, on the one hand, you have a liberalism retreating into neutrality and proceduralism that fails to inspire much emotional attachment. On the other hand, you have a systemic betrayal of its promise of fairness, which generates enormous emotional energy—though in negative and rage-filled forms—because people come to feel that liberalism has betrayed the very principles through which it legitimizes itself as a political movement.

In that sense, liberalism—and liberals—need to put their money where their mouth is and genuinely live up to their commitment to fairness. At the same time, liberalism must move beyond mere proceduralism, not in order to impose a singular conception of the good life on citizens, but rather to articulate much more clearly what liberalism, morally speaking, actually stands for. Because, at the end of the day, I believe liberalism remains a powerful moral vision—one that is still capable of inspiring and attracting people.

Living Down to the Caricature

Could we say that contemporary populism thrives not only on opposition to liberal institutions but also on a caricature of liberalism as radically individualistic and morally empty—and how can liberalism rearticulate its moral substance without collapsing into moralism or exclusion?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: This goes back to what I was saying earlier with respect to Patrick Deneen. On the one hand, I do think this is an unfair and highly reductive interpretation of what liberalism actually stands for. But, on the other hand, liberals themselves have, in some ways, invited this criticism by effectively performing the role of the caricature. So, in that respect, the critique is simultaneously unfair and fair. It is therefore up to liberals to reconstruct the doctrine in such a way that these kinds of criticisms appear clearly caricatural rather than persuasive. We cannot continue to live down to them.

Liberal Values in Everyday Life

Photo: Dreamstime.

Your work reinterprets liberalism as an ethical practice oriented toward self-transformation, openness, and moral cultivation. How might this reconceptualization reshape contemporary debates about liberal democracy—and what practical steps are required to embed this vision in political and social life?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is a difficult question. The central premise of my work is that liberalism today is no longer merely a political doctrine. Rather, many of its core values and commitments have filtered deeply into the broader culture of liberal democracies. Liberal norms are not simply political principles that govern how citizens interact with one another; they now shape a wide range of institutions, from the media and universities to workplaces and everyday social life. More importantly, liberalism has come to influence how we understand ourselves and how we relate to others at a very ordinary and intimate level.

For example, it shapes how we approach romance, friendship, parenting, collegiality, and countless other dimensions of everyday life. In that sense, liberalism and liberal ideals have thoroughly colonized—if one wants to use a somewhat provocative term—the background culture of liberal democratic societies.

The aim of my book, then, was to encourage readers to recognize just how deeply liberal they already are, and at the same time to underscore the stakes involved in the current global backlash against liberalism. For me, this is not simply a matter of political displacement; it is an existential crisis, particularly for people whose values and ways of life are profoundly shaped by liberal ideals.

So, what liberalism needs to do first is to make both itself and liberals more self-conscious about the depth of their attachment to that tradition. That awareness can provide people with a clearer sense of orientation and something genuinely worth defending.

Beyond Justice as Fairness

How does your existential reading of liberalism challenge dominant Rawlsian interpretations that prioritize justice as fairness over questions of personal moral development—and can this tension be resolved without undermining liberal pluralism?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is a great question, though also a very complicated one, because John Rawls himself changed his mind on these issues over time. The framing of your question seems to point especially to the later Rawls, particularly the work from Political Liberalism onward, where he became very clear that liberalism should be understood as a political doctrine and institutional framework rather than a comprehensive moral vision concerned with defining the good life. However, Rawls’s earlier work—especially A Theory of Justice—contains a remarkably rich moral psychology that addresses not only what it means to be a liberal citizen, but also what it means to be a liberal person. For me, then, the central challenge for liberalism is how to recover that richer vision of the liberal person without liberalism itself becoming illiberal. And that is the crucial point.

Liberalism’s rivals—whether traditionalist, religious, conservative, or otherwise—generally have no principled objection to using the state and political power to promote and privilege particular ways of life. There is no deep internal resistance within those traditions to that kind of orientation. Liberals, however, by virtue of our own doctrine, are deeply hesitant about using state power to impose any singular ethical vision of the good life, precisely because we believe individuals must be free to determine such matters for themselves. 

So, liberalism finds itself in a very difficult predicament. On the one hand, it must reaffirm and articulate its ethical vision. On the other hand, it must avoid imposing that vision from above, because doing so would ultimately be nothing short of illiberal.

Liberalism’s Personal and Spiritual Renewal

What are the implications of conceiving liberalism as a form of ethical cultivation for addressing contemporary crises of meaning, belonging, and political alienation—and what institutional or cultural mechanisms could sustain such cultivation?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: At its core, liberalism is grounded in a set of values that, in my book, I identify as freedom, fairness, and reciprocity. One could also add values such as tolerance or even, if one wanted to push in that direction, irony and a sense of self-distance. For me, these qualities together constitute something like the liberal personality.

Now, I do not think this vision will appeal to everyone. Conservatives, traditionalists, or people with strong religious commitments may find other values far more meaningful and fulfilling than liberal ones. So, I am certainly not presenting liberalism as a one-size-fits-all solution. Rather, what I am trying to do is encourage readers who are already sympathetic to liberalism to recognize the depth of their own liberal commitments and to recommit themselves to those values more seriously.

This is something I want to make absolutely clear: my book is not an attempt to persuade non-liberals—whether conservatives or others—to become liberals. That may well be a worthwhile project, but it is not my project. My aim is instead to encourage liberals themselves to take their own values more seriously and, through that process, to rejuvenate liberalism not only at the institutional level, but also at the personal and even, in some respects, the spiritual level.

Liberalism’s Double Game

Do you see John Rawls’s project as incomplete in its account of moral psychology and the formation of liberal subjects, and if so, how might it be reconstructed to address democratic fragility and polarization today?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is an interesting question, especially because Rawls himself eventually became critical of aspects of his own earlier moral psychology. In many ways, the later Rawls began arguing against the earlier Rawls. To put it in the terms of your question, what concerned the later Rawls was not that the moral psychology and ethical vision developed in his earlier work were incomplete, but rather that they were too complete.

He came to believe that he had articulated a highly specific—and perhaps even somewhat prescriptive—account of what it means to live well as a liberal. As a consequence, he sought to reduce liberalism’s dependence on any singular conception of the good life in order to create more space for pluralism.

So, what can liberalism do in response to this tension? I think it has to play a kind of double game. On the one hand, liberalism must acknowledge that it does possess a rich and relatively comprehensive moral psychology. On the other hand, it must remain sufficiently open and porous to allow for alternative ways of life and different forms of human flourishing, while also resisting the temptation to impose its own moral psychology through liberal institutions.

Comprehensive but Not Coercive

Photo: Michal Suszycki / Dreamstime.

Can liberalism incorporate a more substantive account of the good life without compromising its commitment to neutrality and pluralism—and how might this balance be normatively and institutionally secured?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: What you are pointing to here is the idea that liberalism itself contains a vision of the good life and a conception of ethical fullness. Those who hold this view—and I would count myself among them—are often described as comprehensive liberals. Now, comprehensive liberals can go one step further and become what the literature calls perfectionist liberals, meaning liberals who are willing to use state power to promote their preferred way of life.

Liberalism can incorporate a more substantive vision of the good life, but we have to distinguish carefully the level at which this takes place. If we are speaking about personal life and the broader social and civic sphere, then liberals can certainly promote their values and way of life quite robustly, including through institutions. But liberals must remain very cautious about advancing those values through the direct use of state power. Liberalism has always been deeply uneasy with that possibility, and for two distinct reasons.

Interestingly, those reasons vary depending on which phase of the liberal tradition we are discussing. Early liberals resisted the state promotion of any singular way of life because they elevated freedom above all other values. For example, John Stuart Mill viewed individuality, while Immanuel Kant emphasized autonomy, as central to human flourishing. From that perspective, it would be entirely contrary to the liberal ethical vision for the state to impose or privilege one conception of the good life over others.

Later liberals, however, arrived at a similar conclusion through a somewhat different line of reasoning. They argued that because democratic societies are composed of political equals, all citizens are co-holders of political power. Consequently, for the state to use that shared political power to advance one particular way of life would be unjustifiable to the citizenry as a whole, and therefore illiberal.

So, my broader point is that the liberal tradition has long contained a deep resistance to paternalism and perfectionism when it comes to the state-led promotion of any particular ethical way of life.

Populism and Virtue Politics

To what extent do contemporary patterns of democratic backsliding reflect not merely institutional erosion but a deeper normative exhaustion within liberal societies—and what resources within liberal thought might counter this decline?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: This question is actually at the center of my new research project. I am currently studying illiberal political movements and actors by traveling to countries that are either openly non-liberal or increasingly moving in a post-liberal direction, in order to understand the moral sources that animate these political movements.

I recently spent two months in Hungary working with the government of Viktor Orbán, and in December I will travel to China. Next year, I will continue to India, along with several other countries. What strikes me is that, despite their many differences, these political systems and movements share one important feature: a willingness to use state power to promote a substantive vision of the good life.

Naturally, the content of that vision differs from one context to another. In Hungary, for example, Orbán and the Fidesz government use the state to advance a conception of the good life centered on family, national loyalty, and religious faith. In China, I expect to encounter a very different moral framework, one emphasizing harmony, filial piety, respect for hierarchy, and related values. Yet, despite these differences, all of these regimes are participating in a broader attempt to revive what may be the oldest tendency in political thought and institutional design: the idea that the state should promote a particular conception of the good life.

You can already see this in the opening pages of Aristotle’s Politics. Aristotle asks a fundamentally Aristotelian question: why do we have political communities at all? He considers answers that contemporary liberals might regard as self-evident—security, trade, or the protection of individual rights—but ultimately argues that the true purpose of political life is to cultivate and sustain a particular vision of human flourishing grounded in ethical life.

What I am suggesting, then, is that liberals often assume—or perhaps hope—that the neutral, pluralist state represents the natural or default condition of politics. That assumption is mistaken. The liberal, neutral, inclusive, pluralist state is historically very recent, perhaps only about 200 years old. It emerged out of difficult historical experiences, including the Reformation and the wars of religion. But to imagine that this arrangement is somehow the natural resting point of political life is historically inaccurate.

What we are witnessing today, particularly through the rise of populism, may therefore be understood as the return of a much older tradition of political thought—one centered on ideas such as the common good, the good lifeteleologyperfectionism, or virtue politics. In many respects, that is the deeper political tradition to which contemporary politics is now returning.

Liberalism’s Difficult Position

How can liberal democracies respond to illiberal and populist challenges without reverting to defensive technocracy or mimicking the affective and identity-based strategies of their opponents—and what alternative modes of democratic engagement might be envisioned?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: Liberalism currently finds itself in a very difficult position. It possesses a moral core, but it cannot promote that moral core in the same way that its teleological rivals do. Liberalism therefore has to find ways of demonstrating its moral attractiveness without succumbing to the temptation to advance itself through the direct use of institutional political power. As for concrete strategies, however, that is probably a question better addressed to constitutional theorists. I will leave it there for now, because I do not yet have a fully developed answer to that question.

Liberalism’s Self-Correcting Resources

A rear view of people with placards and posters on global strike for climate change. Photo: Dreamstime.

At the global level, how should we interpret the crisis of liberalism in light of its entanglements with colonialism, exclusion, and geopolitical hierarchy—and what normative or institutional transformations are needed to restore its legitimacy?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: Liberalism has, of course, a long and deeply troubling entanglement with colonial projects. Indeed, even some of the most celebrated liberal thinkers were implicated in them. In the 19th century, for example, two of the most important and influential liberals were John Stuart Mill and Alexis de Tocqueville. Neither was merely sympathetic to colonialism in an abstract sense; both were directly involved in administering aspects of the European colonial project. Mill served as secretary to the East India Company, while Tocqueville, during his brief tenure as France’s foreign minister, was involved in the administration of colonial rule in North Africa.

So, liberalism undeniably possesses deep colonial roots, and these should not be dismissed as historical anomalies. They were tied to an early liberal belief that people could only enjoy freedom once they had attained certain “civilizational” standards or qualifications.

At the same time, however, I do not think that liberalism’s historical entanglement with colonial violence and exclusion means that it is permanently condemned to reproduce those legacies. In fact, I would argue that liberalism contains within itself the intellectual and moral resources necessary to criticize and reject its own colonial past on explicitly liberal grounds. So, at the level of political and moral theory, my view is that although liberalism may have emerged in close connection with colonialism, it is not irredeemably bound to that history.

Bergson, Rawls, and Liberal Spirituality

Your Bergsonian account suggests that human rights must break with “closed moralities” rather than extend them. Could this insight help explain why liberal democracies struggle to counter exclusionary populism—and how might human rights be re-grounded to overcome this limitation?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: That is a difficult question. One of the central themes connecting my earlier work on human rights with my later work on liberalism is the idea that what we often regard as merely political or legal institutions are, in fact, also moral and even spiritual doctrines. In my earlier work, this concerned human rights; in my later work, it concerns liberalism. In both cases, my argument is that these are not simply systems concerned with rights, judges, constitutions, or institutional arrangements. They also contain implicit visions of what it means to live well, decently, and aspirationally.

Henri Bergson, one of the major French philosophers of the early 20th century, turned in his later work toward questions of politics and morality and developed a fascinating conception of human rights. Bergson himself was closely connected to the intellectual milieu surrounding the creation of the League of Nations, and he understood human rights in a rather unusual way. For him, the true purpose of human rights was not simply to protect vulnerable populations or defend individuals from harm. Rather, he saw them as institutions designed to initiate human beings into a form of universal love—a mode of attachment and affection capable of breaking beyond closed communities. In that sense, our obligations and affections would no longer remain confined to people like ourselves, to family members, friends, or fellow citizens, but would instead become universal in scope.

In my own work on liberalism, I have tried to pursue a similar line of thought. Bergson himself regarded this vision as a secularized form of a Christian doctrine. He understood human rights as a secular recreation of the Christian ideal of universal or agapeic love. Likewise, when I examine liberalism, I see a doctrine whose roots lie partly in Christianity, especially in early Protestant and Reformed traditions. These institutions may appear secular, legal, and political on the surface, but they remain deeply shaped by a Christian moral inheritance and continue to carry many of its ethical orientations.

My own reading of John Rawls is that, at the deepest level, he was someone who had lost his Christianity but nevertheless wanted to preserve an ethical vision that emerged from it. In that sense, Rawls attempted to construct a liberal political philosophy capable of recovering or redeeming aspects of Christianity within a secular framework.

So, when I speak about “closure,” whether in relation to human rights or liberalism, I am implicitly drawing on this hidden or cryptic Christian inheritance. And although I am myself secular and not Christian, I nevertheless believe that this inheritance remains internal to the functioning of these institutions even today, in the 21st century.

Resources, Attention, and Justice

Illustration by Lightspring.

And finally, Prof. Lefebvre, if liberalism is to be revitalized as a transformative ethical practice rather than a purely procedural doctrine, what combination of institutional reform, civic education, and cultural rearticulation is required—and where do you ultimately locate the most promising remedy for liberalism’s current crisis?

Professor Alexandre Lefebvre: If I could wave a magic wand, I would do two things. And that magic wand takes us directly back to the point I made at the beginning: liberalism is grounded in two core ethical ideas—freedom and generosity, liberty and liberality. My sense is that liberalism has largely forgotten the generosity and liberality side of its own tradition, and my imaginary intervention would be aimed at recovering precisely that dimension.

The first thing I would do to restore the liberal ethos of generosity would be to pursue comprehensive tax reform, especially reforms oriented toward fairness. I am pleased to see that my own country is beginning to move in that direction. I am both Canadian and Australian, but in Australia, at least, new measures are currently being introduced to address intergenerational justice more seriously. This is absolutely essential if liberalism is to regain vitality, because people—particularly younger generations—need to see why these institutions are worth believing in and investing in. In other words, liberalism has to rediscover generosity and solidarity through institutions rooted in justice and fairness.

The second thing I would do is encourage liberals to become more generous not only materially, but also in the way they extend attention and judgment toward others. One of the most damaging tendencies within liberalism today is its inclination toward condescension—the habit of scolding others and assuming that liberals possess a monopoly on correct opinion. First of all, we do not. And second, in a democratic culture that values equality and encourages people to speak for themselves, nothing is more corrosive to public support than appearing as a self-righteous know-it-all intent on prescribing the one correct way to live.

So, if I had two wishes for liberalism, they would be these: that liberals become more generous with their resources and more generous in the attention they give to others.

Dr. Javier Sandoval

Dr. Sandoval: The Erosion of Trust Outlasts Electoral Change

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval examines how democratic erosion is increasingly shaped by forces operating beyond conventional accounts of executive aggrandizement and electoral backsliding. Drawing on his research on global illiberalism, state erosion, populism, political violence, and subnational authoritarianism, Dr. Sandoval argues that the international democratic environment has become less supportive of opposition forces and more permissive of illiberal practices. He warns that while populist leaders may be defeated electorally, the institutional damage they leave behind is far harder to reverse. The interview also explores Mexico’s “ballots, bots, and bullets” dynamic, where digital manipulation and criminal violence reshape democratic competition from below, while declining trust undermines democratic recovery at both domestic and international levels.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

The accelerating crisis of liberal democracy is no longer confined to domestic arenas of polarization, institutional decay, or electoral contestation. Increasingly, democratic erosion unfolds within an international environment that has itself become more permissive of authoritarianism, more tolerant of illiberal governance, and less capable of sustaining democratic norms across borders. In this context, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke with Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval, Postdoctoral Research Associate in Democracy at the Kellogg Institute for International Studies at the University of Notre Dame, whose research explores the intersections of global illiberalism, populism, state capacity, political violence, democratic resilience, and subnational authoritarianism. Across a wide-ranging conversation, Dr. Pérez Sandoval offers a rich analysis of how contemporary democracies are being reshaped not only from above by executive aggrandizement, but also from below through institutional hollowing, criminal governance, digital manipulation, and declining public trust.

At the center of the interview is Dr. Sandoval’s argument that the international democratic order itself has undergone a profound transformation. Drawing on his recent Journal of Democracy article, he argues that the post-Cold War assumption that “linkages to the West” would provide a reliable democratic impetus has weakened considerably. As democratic turbulence intensifies within the United States and Europe themselves, “it is no longer certain that these linkages to the international arena, and specifically to Western democracies, provide robust support for democratic forces around the globe.” In their place, long-established autocracies have become “increasingly organized and much more sophisticated in how they operate internationally,” contributing to what he repeatedly describes as the “normalization of illiberal practices” both domestically and internationally.

This transformation, Dr. Sandoval argues, has profound consequences for democratic oppositions operating in hybrid regimes and eroding democracies alike. Global illiberalism raises the costs of resistance, fragments opposition coalitions, and produces what he terms a “credibility gap,” in which democratic actors may sacrifice long-term democratic commitments for short-term electoral viability. The result is an increasingly zero-sum international environment in which “policy preferences and regime preferences are becoming increasingly aligned.”

The interview also explores Dr. Sandoval’s influential work on state erosion and populist governance. In his collaborative research with Andrés Mejía Costa, he distinguishes democratic backsliding from the “hollowing out” of state institutions through mechanisms such as the dismantling of bureaucracies, the rearrangement of state agencies, fiscal centralization, and judicial reconfiguration. While populist leaders may be removed electorally, the institutional damage they leave behind is far more enduring. As he warns, “state erosion and state damage are much harder to undo.”

Particularly striking is Dr. Sandoval’s discussion of democratic trust in both domestic and international contexts. Reflecting on transatlantic relations, he observes that “a partner that was once regarded as reliable may suddenly appear far less trustworthy,” adding that “even when a government leaves office or is voted out, the damage to trust may already have been done.” This erosion of institutional confidence, he argues, extends from citizens’ relationships with the state to alliances such as those between the United States, NATO, and Europe. Hence the interview’s central warning: the erosion of trust often outlasts electoral change itself.

The conversation further examines Mexico as a paradigmatic case of democratic vulnerability under conditions of criminal governance, digital misinformation, and political violence. Discussing the country’s 2024 elections—described through the now familiar formula of “ballots, bots, and bullets”—Dr. Sandoval analyzes how criminal organizations increasingly shape electoral competition and democratic participation. He warns that when political elites are effectively “vetted by criminal organizations,” the minimal democratic principles of electoral contestation and elite rotation become fundamentally distorted.

Yet despite the gravity of these developments, Dr. Sandoval does not embrace fatalism. Instead, he repeatedly returns to the importance of democratic diagnosis, documentation, institutional rebuilding, and civic cooperation. Democratic resilience, he argues, begins with the ability “to diagnose and call things what they are,” and with the willingness of democratic actors to unite around minimal democratic thresholds rather than maximalist ideological positions. In sum, this interview presents a sobering but deeply illuminating reflection on the contemporary condition of democracy—and on the difficult but necessary work required to defend it.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

The International Arena No Longer Guarantees Democratic Support

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

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval, welcome. In your most recent Journal of Democracy article, you argue that global illiberalism reshapes the strategic environment in which democracies operate. How should we conceptualize the transition from a democracy-promoting international order to one that is increasingly permissive—or even enabling—of authoritarian practices?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: That is one of the big questions we have to face and answer, and one that we try to address in the paper. In thinking about this question, my first response is to suggest that we have to acknowledge that it is happening. Sometimes the international environment appears distant or somehow separate from domestic politics. There is already enough happening within domestic politics, and the international environment can seem either too far removed or very static.

The first task in conceptualizing, theorizing, and properly understanding what is happening is to look closely at the changes that have taken place over the last decade or 15 years. In the paper, we suggest that there are at least three key ways in which the international environment has changed. Critically, the point of departure is an idea that was very prominent in the 1990s and early 2000s—namely, the concept developed by Levitsky and Way regarding linkages to the West. The assumption was that the international environment possessed a pro-democratic “flavor,” so to speak, and that one could rely on the international arena to provide a democratic impetus. But given the pressures we now see in the US and Europe, along with their own domestic democratic turmoil, that dynamic has certainly weakened.

So, the argument we present in the paper is that it is no longer certain that these linkages to the international arena, and specifically to Western democracies, provide robust support for democratic forces around the globe.

The second point, very evidently, is that long-established autocracies have become increasingly organized and much more sophisticated in how they operate internationally. They have strengthened their presence within international organizations and become far more adept at navigating the international system.

Ultimately, what this suggests is a certain normalization of illiberal practices. I would not necessarily describe these as openly anti-democratic practices, because I still think the democratic narrative retains the upper hand. You can see this even in the way illiberal and populist leaders continue to adopt the democratic umbrella rhetorically.

So, in narrative terms, democracy still has the upper hand, but there is nonetheless a growing normalization of illiberal practices, both domestically and internationally. That would be my two-part answer to the question.

Global Illiberalism Raises the Costs of Resistance

You highlight that global illiberalism constrains opposition actors by raising the costs of resistance and reducing external support. How do these shifting international conditions alter the prospects for democratic resilience in hybrid regimes?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: This is an interesting question, especially the last part. Because, when we were writing this piece, we were thinking primarily about eroding democracies—democracies facing autocratizing pressures. But the setup of hybrid regimes makes me think that we perhaps have to refine our thinking about what the starting position is for forces that are trying to strengthen democracy domestically. Even so, I would say that the three key areas or domains in which we highlight increasing costs are still applicable to hybrid regimes.  There is the very obvious issue of material and financial support, which might become harder to secure.

But on top of that, we also add the domain of symbolic support. In the paper, we argue that this creates a sense of the narrowing of the international space, in which politics increasingly becomes a kind of zero-sum game. Opposition forces have to compete for international alignment, or they are immediately sidelined by it. And so there is this zero-sum logic that is becoming increasingly present in the international arena when it comes to democratic support.

The immediate consequence of this is the fragmentation of oppositions. Whether you are in an eroding democracy, in a consolidating democracy that is eroding, or in a hybrid regime, this situation fosters the fragmentation of opposition forces. Rather than cooperating and presenting a united democratic front, what happens instead is that these forces begin to fragment and fall apart.

The third cost—which is perhaps the trickiest one because it requires a great deal of strategic thinking—is what we label the credibility gap. This is the idea that some opposition forces will prioritize short-term electoral viability and, in order to achieve that, may compromise their democratic credentials. But what does that imply for democracy-promoting actors in the future if their democratic credentials can later be questioned? It creates a dilemma and a misalignment of incentives between short-term electoral goals and long-term democratic promotion.

It also highlights that, between this fragmentation, the narrowing and zero-sum nature of the international space, and the credibility gap, we may be observing a situation in which both policy preferences and regime preferences are becoming increasingly aligned. Whereas perhaps in the past you would not have compromised your regime preferences if you wanted to support or campaign on a right-wing ideological platform—or a left-wing ideological platform—today, choosing one or the other may also limit what you are then able to stand for in terms of the regime-level question.

Illiberal Practices Now Outlive Their Leaders

Labour Day celebrations
Labour Day celebrations at Old Town Square in Prague on May 1, 2017, featuring a banner depicting democracy as a leaf eaten by caterpillars labeled Putin, Kaczyński, Orbán, Babiš, Trump, and Fico.
Photo: Jolanta Wojcicka.

Your work suggests that illiberal regimes increasingly learn from one another. How significant is this transnational diffusion of strategies for the consolidation of populist and authoritarian rule?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: That is a big question, and the first thing I would say is to return to this idea of normalization. So, not only is there perhaps a learning of strategies, but there is also a normalization of what, in other contexts and historical periods, would have been considered highly abnormal behavior, non-standard behavior, or sometimes even openly illegal behavior. In that sense, this undermines not only the domestic rule of law, but international law itself.

We are seeing—people often describe it as a return to inward-looking politics, a turn toward domestic issues at the expense of international ones—but I also think we are witnessing a very evident shift toward, for lack of a better word, realpolitik, where law, and especially the normative dimension of law, is increasingly sidelined in the face of economic interests and power politics.

The normalization of those practices and values is perhaps one of the most pressing and long-term dangers that we face. Because insofar as this process is generated and reinforced through diffusion, it creates a mechanism through which these practices survive and outlive current leaders. So, this is not only a conjunctural issue, but also a question of duration: how long are we going to remain in this process? How long will it last? I think that is the key danger and the key issue we should continue to watch closely.

State Erosion Is Harder to Undo Than Electoral Defeat

In “Why Populists Hollow Out Their States,” you argue that populists systematically erode state capacity. How does this process differ from more familiar accounts of democratic backsliding focused on executive aggrandizement and institutional capture?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: That is another piece that I had the fortune to write with Andrés Mejía Costa, and you are putting your finger on perhaps the most challenging empirical question we face. Ultimately, this asks us to distinguish between what the political regime is and what the state itself is. And sometimes—indeed, often—these things coexist, and they can be difficult to pull apart. Perhaps the best way to think about it is that you can have measures that erode democracy without necessarily hampering the state, and measures that hamper the state without necessarily damaging democracy. So, I will try to give examples of both in order to answer your question.

One measure that might damage the state without necessarily damaging democracy has to do with one of the examples we discuss in the paper: the centralization of spending. If you centralize public spending, you might not necessarily damage the liberal or electoral aspects of democracy, but you may still facilitate executive aggrandizement in the long term, or hamper accountability and the ability of subnational actors, for example, to exercise budgetary authority. So, there is an aspect in which the state clearly changes, while the regime itself may remain relatively constant and not immediately erode.

Another example is the current debate in the United States over gerrymandering and redistricting. These practices have immediate electoral and democratic consequences, but they do not necessarily have immediate consequences for the state itself. So, there are aspects in which we can analytically tease apart these elements.

In the paper, we present at least four ideas—or four mechanisms—through which we can clearly observe forms of state erosion that differ from democratic backsliding alone. These are the dismantling of bureaucracies, the rearrangement of state agencies, the centralization of spending, and the last one—which is perhaps the closest to democratic backsliding—the dismantling or reconfiguration of the judiciary. Those four mechanisms are the key ideas we present in the piece in order to offer a clearer empirical distinction between democratic backsliding and state erosion.

And I would add that the ultimate concern in the piece is that we see both processes as going hand in hand: the process of state erosion and the process of democratic erosion. Our key concern is that while you can push back against the regime question—you can remove illiberal or populist leaders through elections—state erosion and state damage are much harder to undo.

So, our concern is that by damaging certain state institutions and state capacities, democratic recovery becomes much more difficult in the long term. I think that is perhaps one additional distinction that I would emphasize.

Rebuilding Trust Is Harder Than Removing Populist

Luís Inácio Lula da Silva and former President Bolsonaro participate in the debate over Brazil in Sao Paulo on October 16, 2022. Photo: Isaac Fontana.

You emphasize that state erosion can occur rapidly, whereas state-building is slow and cumulative. What does this asymmetry imply for the long-term prospects of democratic recovery after populist rule?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: You are really putting your finger on the issue. As you said, from what we know from the literature on state-building and state capacity, it takes generations to build autonomous and capable institutions that are able to deliver public goods and services. And there seems to be a profound asymmetry between how long it takes to build and accumulate those capabilities and how quickly they can be dismantled.

One key area in which I see this tension emerging very clearly concerns not only public service delivery but also trust—both among citizens and among international allies and partners. Take, for example, the domestic arena. After a populist leaves office, a pro-democratic government may come in and attempt to rebuild institutions. But if citizens have already come to perceive that the state, and the services it provides, can be easily politicized and quickly stripped away, they may become much more wary of relying on or engaging with the state in the future.

In the international arena, you can perhaps see something similar in the relationships between, for example, the United States, NATO, and Europe. A partner that was once regarded as reliable may suddenly appear far less trustworthy. Even when a government leaves office or is voted out, the damage to trust may already have been done, and I do not think it can be rebuilt so easily. So, there is definitely an underlying tension there. Rebuilding that trust will require commitment on both sides: domestically, from incoming governments trying to reconstruct institutions, and from citizens willing to trust again and reengage politically and publicly. And the same can be said at the international level.

When Reform Becomes a Pretext for Capture

Your analysis suggests that populist leaders often justify institutional weakening through anti-corruption and austerity narratives. How do these discursive strategies help legitimize policies that ultimately undermine democratic governance?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: The key answer to that is that they do work. In most instances, if you look at the trajectories through which populist leaders not only get elected but also manage to get away with these measures, what you usually find behind them is a narrative—a campaign in which, with some degree of truth, the institutions being attacked or dismantled are already widely perceived as corrupt, deficient, problematic, or incapable of fulfilling the duties for which they were originally created.

You see this, for example, in Mexico, across Latin America, but even in the United States, where there are attacks on key institutions based on their past performance, or their perceived performance. Those institutions are then dismantled or significantly weakened, and only afterward do people suddenly realize that, despite their deficiencies, they were still performing important functions.

Here, I cannot help but refer to the Mexican case and the recent reform of the judiciary. We all know that Mexico has extremely high levels of impunity. Only around 2 percent of criminal cases ever receive a judicial sentence. So, there are very high levels of impunity, and the central banner of the campaign became: “Well, we need to reform the judiciary.”

But under that pretense, what ultimately happened was the takeover of the judiciary. The long-term consequence then becomes: how do you reverse that damage? I try to put myself in the position of an incoming government—a non-Morena government, a pro-democratic government—and the question they will likely face is whether they, too, should reform the judiciary under the pretext of restoring democracy. But by doing so, do they then expose themselves to criticism for also trying to reform the judiciary in order to capture it?

So again, trying to connect the dots between the issues raised in the first paper on opposition forces and the issues raised in the second paper on the state, this creates extremely complex scenarios in which the decisions made by democratic forces will be crucial in determining both how quickly and how successfully we are able to recover from certain conditions and situations.

Social Spending Can Become an Electoral Instrument

Volunteers donate food to help homeless and hungry people. Photo: Todsaporn Bunmuen / Dreamstime.

Drawing on the Mexican case, how should we interpret the reallocation of state resources—such as shifts toward social spending at the expense of institutional capacity—in terms of democratic quality and state effectiveness?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: I was once asked whether any and all re-budgeting was necessarily a sign of hollowing out or state erosion. The answer to that is no. In principle, if you were to ask me that question, let’s say in a vacuum—do we think that simply repurposing spending toward welfare and social spending is necessarily a problematic sign for democratic governance? My answer would be no. It is in the context of everything else that is happening, particularly in the Mexican case, where my answer would have to be: Actually, we might need to be worried about it.

Precisely because one of the key things, for example, is that in the Mexican case they are re-shifting the budget and implementing all of these austerity measures, but coincidentally—and I say this ironically—for purposes that are very beneficial to the incumbent government. So, if you redesign social policy in a way that provides beneficiaries with direct, non-conditional cash transfers, the expectation is that you will reap the electoral benefits from those transfers. And not only that, but you are also opposing any sort of strong or robust fiscal reform that would actually expand the size of the pie. By engaging in this kind of budgetary shifting, you are therefore taking resources away from other potentially relevant state activities. 

So, again, in and of itself, it is not necessarily the case that any one of these measures would be problematic, but we always have to situate the analysis within its broader context.

When Elections Face Bots, Bullets, and Criminal Power

In the context of Mexico’s 2024 elections, characterized by “ballots, bots, and bullets,” how do digital misinformation and political-criminal violence interact to reshape electoral competition and citizen participation?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: This is what keeps me up at night, and one of the reasons is precisely because I have the Mexican case very close to home. I am from Mexico, so it feels very immediate to me. But more broadly, Mexico is perhaps a paradigmatic extreme case of the growing relationship between criminal governance, democracy, and the increasing growth and permeability of digital life.

So, I will say two things. First, they have completely reshaped electoral competition, at least in the Mexican case. I can also think of the Brazilian case, particularly at the local level, where it is now pretty hard to win an election if, A, you are not at least on good terms with criminal organizations, and B, you do not have a strong online presence.

There is also the fact that it is hard to collect evidence to ascertain this with 100 percent certainty, but criminal organizations themselves have become quite embedded not only in local politics, but also in terms of their technological reach. The domain of their activities no longer pertains only to drug trafficking. So, it is hard for me to see exactly where the influence ends, if that makes any sense. It is one thing to think about the traditional vision of drug-trafficking organizations as groups simply in charge of moving drugs from point A to point B, and that is basically all they do. Now, however, we are talking about really complex systems of criminal governance.

I recently read a paper that even referred to criminal hybrid regimes, in which state institutions and criminal organizations are conceptualized as fused. And again, in the Mexican case, the now former governor of Sinaloa—who recently stepped away from office—has been accused of having close ties with a criminal organization.

So, absolutely, there has been a reshaping of what elections might allow you to do in a democracy. The question then becomes: how do we protect the electoral mechanism from such complex and disruptive forces as, online misinformation, and criminal organizations? There are ample opportunity and space to learn in terms of candidate selection and campaign monitoring.

Violence Hollows Out Democracy from Below

Mexican soldiers
Mexican soldiers rehearse ahead of the September 16 Independence Day parade in Mexico City. Photo: Alejandro Muñoz / Dreamstime.

Given the documented 401 attacks on political actors during the recent electoral cycle, to what extent does violence function as an alternative mechanism of political selection, effectively hollowing out democracy from below?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: This completely redefines the situation, and you are right to point out that this is not necessarily the kind of executive-led aggrandizement from the top down that we usually conceive of, but rather more of a bottom-up—I do not want to call it grassroots—dynamic. But it completely distorts what the minimal definition of democracy entails, namely the rotation of elites and electoral contestation. So, if the only elites rotating through the system are those effectively vetted by criminal organizations, and if, from their very inception, they already possess what we might call a very lax commitment to the rule of law, then I do not see a very bright future for liberal democracies at the local, subnational, or national level, in Mexico or elsewhere where this might be happening.

Local Politics as a Space of Experimentation and Democratic Defense

To what extent do populist and far-right actors exploit subnational arenas—such as regional governments or municipalities—as laboratories for illiberal experimentation and institutional erosion?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: This is an interesting question, and you will get different answers depending on the case and who you ask. Subnational arenas, or subnational units, have been described both as laboratories of authoritarianism—where exactly the kind of dynamics you mention take place, with parties and politicians experimenting, learning, and seeing what they can get away with—and as arenas of resistance, in which politicians and parties resist and withstand autocratizing pressures from above.

In that sense, it ultimately becomes a matter of the preferences of the actors in power and what they are actually able to push for. The subnational arena allows for experimentation in either direction. It can function in an autocratizing way: actors can learn what the legal framework allows them to do, how they might reshuffle certain budgets, which agencies are absolutely necessary, and which messages resonate with the electorate, and which do not. This can actually catapult actors to the national stage. But it can also serve as a space of resistance—a space in which we learn how to contest autocratization from above.

So, I would try to balance the picture and say that there is evidence for both dynamics. My hope is that we are building enough research and collecting enough evidence regarding best practices in both scenarios: on the one hand, to identify these dynamics early and recognize that certain types of practices tend to lead to autocratizing outcomes; and, on the other hand, to replicate successful efforts toward rebuilding and resisting in defense of democracy.

Trust Is the Long-Term Challenge of Democratic Recovery

Your work suggests that declining state capacity undermines citizens’ trust and fuels disengagement. How does this dynamic contribute to a vicious cycle in which democratic dissatisfaction further empowers populist or authoritarian actors?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: I’ll connect that question to your previous question by saying that there is research showing that the democratic features of the subnational unit in which you live shape citizens’ perceptions of how democratic their country is, and also shape trust in the state, government, and public institutions. In that sense, this broader process of declining state capacity and democratic erosion at multiple levels also affects how we see and relate to the state, the government, and public institutions across different levels.

Trying to connect the two dots, there may still be opportunities, particularly in the subnational arena, where efforts of resistance can serve as bastions for democratic preferences. We may observe national autocratizing trends and the normalization of certain radical ideologies or political preferences, but perhaps the local sphere can still remain a space in which a minimal threshold of democratic practices, norms, and behaviors endures. And that, in turn, can become a baseline from which we can begin rebuilding again from the bottom up.

So, there is this recognition that, as I mentioned earlier, the key issue in the long term is trust. How do you rebuild trust for the future? My hope—and I say this very openly—is that by identifying these very local good practices and efforts, we can find a baseline from which to begin building back up again.

Democratic Defense Begins with Naming the Problem

Illustration: Design Rage.

And finally, considering the combined pressures of global illiberalism, state hollowing, digital manipulation, and political violence, what would a viable strategy for democratic resilience look like in the contemporary era?

Dr. Javier Pérez Sandoval: If I nail this question, I probably need to ask for a raise, because this is perhaps the question being asked in a lot of quote-unquote war rooms for the opposition. The broader question is: How do we successfully defend democracy? And there are multiple answers to this. Perhaps I am thinking of two things. One is a very personal answer, in terms of the way I try to approach it myself. The other is a more practical way of thinking about it from the perspective of an opposition movement or political actor.

The way that I try to do it personally is through documenting—trying to track what is happening to democracy in Mexico, in Latin America, and more generally; trying to document, gather, and collect evidence of where democracy is declining and where democracy is able to make a stand and resist. So, if I were to answer that question from my own experience—”how do I see myself as defending democracy?”—that would be my answer: documenting where it erodes, and also documenting where it resists, not only in a cross-country comparative way, but also within countries, through a subnational lens and perspective.

But beyond that and perhaps trying to extrapolate from that experience more broadly, the first thing would also be to document and agree on the diagnosis. Sometimes—I was watching some depositions in the US Congress where some members of the current administration could not even identify a very blatant non-constitutional act as such. We have become so politicized, and partisanship has seemingly trumped everything, that we cannot even agree on what a plain and clear reading of the Constitution is.

So, simply agreeing on the diagnosis, documenting it, and being able to call things by their proper names would already be a great first step. And then, moving forward, it would also be a crucial first step toward finding a common dialogue.

This is one of the calls that we make in the paper on illiberalism and democracy with Maryhen Jiménez and Timothy J. Power. One of the things that history teaches is that democratic defense and democratic oppositions are more likely to coalesce—and therefore more likely to succeed—when they agree on a minimal threshold. Agreeing on a maximalist position or a very high ceiling is always a difficult strategy. But agreeing on the minimal conditions that we can all defend and stand for is a much more feasible strategy and a more realistic act across different contexts.

But unfortunately, we are still in a situation where there is a precondition for that, which is simply the capacity to diagnose and call things what they are. And agreeing on that language today seems even harder than it was in the past. So, if anything, I hope that my work, and the work of my colleagues—and of the Center, for example, in this space—helps us create that common language to diagnose problems and then move forward.

Péter Krekó is an Associate Professor at the Department of Social Psychology; the Research Laboratory for Disinformation & Artificial Intelligence at Eötvös Loránd University.

Assoc. Prof. Krekó: There Are Dangers of Re-autocratization and Abuse of Power in Hungary

In this ECPS interview, Associate Professor Péter Krekó examines Hungary’s uncertain political transition after Viktor Orbán’s electoral defeat and the rise of Péter Magyar’s TISZA party. Drawing on his work on “informational autocracy,” disinformation, conspiracy theories, and populism in power, Assoc. Prof. Krekó argues that Orbán’s centralized media and propaganda machinery has suffered a striking collapse, opening possibilities for democratic renewal. Yet he warns against premature optimism. Hungary may move toward a more pluralistic and critical information space, but concentrated power, weak parliamentary alternatives, and one-sided polarization create “dangers of re-autocratization and of abuse of power.” For Assoc. Prof. Krekó, Hungary’s future depends on institutional reform, media pluralism, civic vigilance, and political self-restraint.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

The electoral defeat of Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz government after sixteen years in power has generated intense debate over whether Hungary is witnessing a genuine democratic rupture or merely a reconfiguration of illiberal governance under new political leadership. For more than a decade, Hungary stood at the center of global discussions on democratic backsliding, populist governance, and informational manipulation, becoming what many scholars described as a laboratory of contemporary illiberalism. Among the leading analysts of this transformation is Péter Krekó, an Associate Professor at the Department of Social Psychology; the Research Laboratory for Disinformation & Artificial Intelligence at Eötvös Loránd University and director of the think tank Political Capital Institute, whose work on disinformation, conspiracy theories, and “informational autocracy” has significantly shaped scholarly understanding of the Orbán regime.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Assoc. Prof. Krekó examines the political and psychological foundations of Hungary’s illiberal system, the apparent collapse of Orbán’s informational machinery, and the uncertain prospects for democratic renewal under Péter Magyar and the TISZA party. Drawing on his interdisciplinary expertise as both a political scientist and social psychologist, Assoc. Prof. Krekó situates Hungary’s transition within broader debates on populism, post-truth politics, democratic resilience, and authoritarian adaptation.

At the center of the discussion is Assoc. Prof. Krekó’s application of the concept of “informational autocracy,” originally developed by Sergei Guriev and Daniel Treisman, to the Hungarian case. According to Assoc. Prof. Krekó, Orbán’s rule depended less on overt repression than on the construction of “the most centralized and politicized media environment in the entire European Union,” where nearly 500 media outlets operated within a politically controlled ecosystem reproducing state-sponsored narratives and disinformation. Yet despite these asymmetrical conditions, Orbán’s “highly professional media and disinformation machinery” ultimately “was unable to spread its narratives effectively or shape public opinion in the way it once had.”

At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Krekó warns against premature democratic triumphalism. Although he believes there is “some basis for optimism” that Hungary may move toward “a more diverse, more pluralistic, and, in many respects, more critical information space,” he repeatedly emphasizes the structural dangers accompanying overwhelming electoral victories and concentrated political authority. As reflected in the headline of this interview, Assoc. Prof. Krekó cautions that “there are dangers of re-autocratization and of abuse of power in Hungary,” particularly in a political landscape where “only the right exists in parliament” and where polarization may evolve into what he describes as “one-sided tribalism.”

The interview further explores the enduring effects of disinformation and conspiracy narratives on collective memory, the fragility of democratic norms after prolonged informational manipulation, and the challenge of depolarizing political cultures shaped by Manichean populism. Hungary, Assoc. Prof. Krekó argues, has been “a major experimental laboratory of post-truth politics,” and may now become “a major experimental laboratory of post-post-truth politics as well.”Whether the country ultimately evolves into “a model for re-democratization” or drifts toward new forms of hybrid rule remains uncertain.

Throughout the conversation, Assoc. Prof. Krekó offers a nuanced and cautious analysis that avoids both fatalism and romanticization. Instead, he frames Hungary’s transition as an open-ended political experiment whose outcome will depend not only on institutional reforms, but also on political self-restraint, media pluralism, civic vigilance, and the willingness of both elites and citizens to defend democratic norms consistently, regardless of partisan loyalties.

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

Orbán’s Informational Autocracy Meets Its Limits

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

Professor Krekó, welcome. In your work, you conceptualize Hungary as an informational autocracy, where media control and narrative manipulation underpin regime stability. To what extent does Magyar’s electoral victory represent a structural rupture in this system, rather than merely an elite turnover?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: Thank you very much. It’s a brilliant question. Just as a disclaimer at the outset, the term “informational autocracy,” or “spin dictatorship,” was coined by Sergei Guriev and Daniel Treisman. I merely applied it to Hungary and wrote an article on the subject. So, unfortunately, the term itself is not my brainchild. Nevertheless, I think it is a very important concept, and when it comes to understanding the nature of the Orbán regime, it is definitely helpful.

What has happened in Hungary challenges some of our traditional concepts for describing certain kinds of non-liberal—and indeed non-democratic—regimes. In many respects, the Hungarian regime under Viktor Orbán was a non-democratic system, but that did not mean it was impossible to defeat through elections.

Regarding your question about informational autocracy and systemic rupture, Viktor Orbán never systematically used violence during his rule. There was no imprisonment of political opponents, no imprisonment of journalists, and no violent crackdown on opposition protests. However, he developed an extremely centralized media system. Hungary had the most centralized and politicized media environment in the entire European Union, with more than 400 media outlets concentrated in a pro-government foundation called KESMA (Central European Press and Media Foundation), all under political control. In a country of only 8 million voters, this represented a massive media conglomerate. Combined with the so-called public media and additional aligned outlets, there were nearly 500 media organizations altogether, practically all parroting the same narratives, spreading politically controlled and state-sponsored disinformation.

The manipulation and spinning of information through television, billboards, and social media became the regime’s most important tool for reproducing its legitimacy. Yet Péter Magyar was still able to challenge this informational autocracy. One key rule of informational autocracies is that the side with greater resources generally enjoys greater support. Viktor Orbán possessed enormous resources in terms of media ownership and money spent on political advertising. Although the most recent elections were somewhat affected by social media self-regulation, in earlier elections the government could deploy far more billboards and advertising resources than its opponents.

In the 2022 elections, for example, the governmental side was able to display eight times as many billboards in public spaces as the opposition. So, while the competition appeared formally fair, in reality it was highly unequal. Despite this highly asymmetric and unfair environment, Péter Magyar was nevertheless able to challenge the government.

What we saw in the latest elections was that the highly professional media and disinformation machinery constructed by Orbán and his cronies was ultimately unable to spread its narratives effectively or shape public opinion in the way it once had.

Dismantling Informational Autocracy Requires More Than Victory

Peter Magyar, a popular opposition politician of celebrity status meeting the press at the site of a soccer arena and miniature train station in Viktor Orban’s village in Felcsut, Hungary. on May 24, 2024. Photo: Blue Corner Studio.

Given the deep institutional embedding of Orbán’s system—including media capture and electoral engineering—how reversible is this model in practice, even with a constitutional supermajority?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: This is a great question. I would argue that it will be possible to dismantle this informational autocracy through a set of measures. First of all, of course, you have to somehow guarantee the plurality of the media environment. Second, you have to reform the state-sponsored media and its editorial standards, because it has effectively functioned as the cheapest pro-government propaganda imaginable. Third, you have to break up the information monopolies, even in the public domain, because many media mergers on the pro-government side were made legal and possible by the authorities, whereas attempts by independent media outlets to merge often faced institutional obstacles. Fourth, you also have to re-regulate the issue of state advertisements. In Hungary, state advertising became a major tool for financing pro-government media, with 95 percent of state advertisements going to pro-government outlets. In addition, substantial investment in media literacy education is necessary, alongside efforts to address hybrid threats. So, this is a multi-sectoral issue that requires a complex response.

I am hopeful that the new government, understanding that this monopolized and highly over-politicized media system primarily served Viktor Orbán’s interests, will recognize that it is not necessarily in their own interest to maintain it. In that sense, I remain cautiously optimistic. At the same time, however, there are also clear dangers ahead.

When you are in government, you are typically less interested in maintaining a diverse and critical information space than when you are in opposition. I do not need to elaborate on that because it is obvious. But with a constitutional majority, a very large parliamentary group full of political novices appointed by Péter Magyar himself, and no real parliamentary alternative outside the right side of the political spectrum, there are clear risks.

In Hungary today, you have the center-right TISZA party, the far-right Fidesz party, and the extreme-right Mi Hazánk party. So, you have one party from the European People’s Party, one from the Patriots group, and one from the European Sovereignists. In other words, only the right exists in parliament. The alternatives being articulated therefore emerge almost exclusively from one side of the political spectrum, often with authoritarian leanings.

Therefore, I think there are dangers ahead—dangers of re-autocratization and of abuse of power. Again, we have to wait and see. The TISZA movement has a much more diverse, younger, and more pro-democratic voter base than Fidesz had, and that gives some reason for optimism. It suggests that they may genuinely wish to dismantle the information monopoly and move toward a form of informational democracy rather than informational autocracy. But again, we have to wait and see.

We can also note that some competent ministers have been appointed, which is another reason for cautious hope. Moreover, the TISZA government is not entirely homogeneous; it includes many civic actors and some liberal public figures as well. So, we will see, but I think there is at least some basis for optimism that the information monopoly will be broken and that Hungary may move toward a more diverse, more pluralistic, and, in many respects, more critical information space.

Orbán’s Networks Are Collapsing Before Our Eyes

Local office of the Fidesz party in Szeged, southern Hungary. Photo: Jerome Cid / Dreamstime.

How should we theorize the resilience of illiberal governance when formal power changes hands but informal networks of patronage and influence remain intact? Moreover, to what extent might segments of the electorate remain psychologically invested in Orbánism, even after its electoral defeat?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: Again, a brilliant question, and I think we will see the answer in the next few months. When it comes to patronage systems and the hidden networks that Fidesz has built up, they have been extremely important. But as we can see at the moment, the Orbán regime and the remnants of Orbán’s networks and patronage system are collapsing as we speak. Former government spin doctors, for example, have come out and criticized the Orbán regime, while also acknowledging that they themselves were victims of this system.

We can also see leading politicians beginning to criticize Fidesz’s internal affairs, while intellectuals who had been close to Fidesz—mostly for pragmatic reasons—seem to be abandoning it. Generally speaking, the fabric of the Fidesz network appears to be unraveling. Perhaps the reason is that Fidesz became a highly pragmatic and cynical organization driven primarily by nepotistic corruption, while ideology became secondary. And if you lack a strong ideological foundation and suddenly find yourself in opposition, with no more resources to distribute, many former loyalists will inevitably turn against you. That is exactly what we are witnessing in Hungary at the moment.

So, I would say this is definitely a systemic transformation, and Viktor Orbán’s chances of returning to power have diminished almost to zero in the recent period. It is fascinating because no one really expected such an abrupt collapse of Fidesz’s networks, yet it is happening before our very own eyes. In that sense, dismantling the system may prove easier than many anticipated.

At the same time, this also gives even more power to the TISZA Party and Péter Magyar, because their main opponent—Fidesz, now moving into opposition—is collapsing and weakening dramatically.

Coming back to your second question—how loyal Orbán’s core supporters will remain—this is something we still have to see. I would expect Fidesz to become a party with around 20 percent of the vote, or roughly one million votes in a country of eight million voters. Thus, it would become a party with significantly lower support than before, perhaps a medium-sized party. It may even shrink further.

The major challenge, connecting your previous question to this one, is how much Fidesz will be able to preserve voter loyalty if it no longer controls the public media. Many older Fidesz voters, according to research, remained loyal because they consumed only public media. And the public media essentially functioned as a mouthpiece for the Hungarian government and Fidesz, spreading anti-Ukrainian, anti-Brussels, and anti-Western propaganda, alongside a great deal of disinformation.

If those same voters continue watching public television, but public television becomes more independent—or perhaps even more pro-TISZA—then their attitudes may also begin to change. Hungary has been a major experimental laboratory of post-truth politics, and it is now going to become a major experimental laboratory of post-post-truth politics as well in the coming period. What the outcome will be is very difficult to predict at the moment.

Can Hungary Unlearn Illiberalism?

Tisza Party volunteer collecting signatures in Mosonmagyaróvár, Hungary on June 5, 2024 during a nationwide campaign tour ahead of the European Parliament elections. Photo: Sarkadi Roland / Dreamstime.

Your research shows that authoritarian environments can distort perceptions of democratic quality, making illiberal systems appear more democratic than they are; in this context, how might such cognitive biases shape public reactions to reform efforts under Magyar, and to what extent can a new government effectively recalibrate citizens’ understandings of democracy after prolonged exposure to manipulated informational environments?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: This is again a very good question, but a difficult one—because, on the one hand, we can say that the voter base of the TISZA Party seems to be somewhat more aware of what democracy really means, and this kind of democratic consciousness appears to be at a higher level in that voter camp than it was among Fidesz voters. Within Fidesz, we could observe a strange combination of authoritarian attitudes among voters and a simultaneous denial of authoritarian malpractices.

On the one hand, the argument was that the Hungarian system was absolutely democratic—nothing to see here. In fact, this is the message they continue to repeat: “We could be defeated in elections, therefore the whole regime was democratic.” Any suggestion of authoritarianism was dismissed as far-fetched.

On the other hand, Fidesz clearly had authoritarian instincts. It wanted, for example, to crack down much more brutally on the independent media, NGOs, and think tanks than it ultimately could, but it was constrained by fears of public backlash before the election. So, there was an interesting duality in that respect. Perhaps this is something we can observe in other hybrid regimes as well. On the one hand, such regimes are willing to use authoritarian tactics; on the other hand, they insist that their systems are fully democratic.

Here again, we face both certain dangers and certain opportunities. One opportunity is that Hungary replaced Viktor Orbán’s party with the highest electoral turnout ever recorded in post-transitional Hungarian political history. Turnout reached almost 80 percent, which is nearly 10 percent higher than ever before. Previously, the highest turnout had been 72 percent. During the transition from socialism to democracy in 1989–1990, turnout was only 64 percent, so the level of political enthusiasm this time was significantly greater.

Of course, polarization was also much higher than before, but political engagement—as well as resistance to and rejection of the authoritarian practices of the Fidesz government among opposition voters—was extremely strong. The opposition gained 53 percent of the vote, which is a very substantial majority in raw electoral terms, and this was then translated into a constitutional majority.

This rejection of authoritarian practices opens up avenues for some form of re-democratization—at the level of institutions, public life, and perhaps, in the medium and long term, toward a more pluralistic party system, which would certainly be welcome in Hungary. The Hungarian political and electoral system is highly majoritarian, and it typically produces constitutional majorities, which I personally think is unhealthy.

So, I do believe there is a path toward re-democratization, but again, we have to see what Péter Magyar’s actual goals are. He is not yet in office, so at this stage we can only speculate. He certainly employs a great deal of democratic rhetoric, and if we take that seriously, then he is probably aware that creating a new authoritarian regime would not only be extremely difficult, but also contrary to his own interests.

At the same time, given that he currently possesses almost absolute political power, along with the capacity to redraw the constitutional system, there is always the danger of abusing such a high level of legitimacy. I would not say that we should automatically assume Hungary will simply return to another hybrid regime similar to Orbán’s. But I do think that if TISZA and Péter Magyar lose popularity over time, there is a possibility that he could misuse his overwhelming parliamentary majority, assuming he is able to keep the party united.

So, we will see. My hope is that Hungary, after serving as a model of illiberalism for sixteen years, might instead become a model for re-democratization. But at the moment, I would say that remains somewhat wishful thinking, because we truly have to wait and see. As political scientists, we understand that whenever someone possesses too much power, there is always the danger that they may use that power not only to democratize the system, but also to entrench themselves within it.

Hungary’s Post-Truth Legacy Will Not Disappear Overnight

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

You argue that misinformation has a “lingering effect” and that even debunked narratives continue to shape attitudes. In a post-authoritarian transition, how can democratic actors overcome the durability of Orbán-era narratives embedded in collective memory?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: This is one of the biggest challenges we face at the moment, mostly because, in some areas, we can clearly see the damage done to people’s hearts and minds by the Orbán propaganda machinery. State-sponsored disinformation has shaped public attitudes in many domains. To give just a few examples: Islamophobic and anti-immigration attitudes were already strong before the 2014–2015 migration crisis, but they were amplified even further by the Orbán regime. According to international polls, Hungary is one of the most prejudiced countries even within Central and Eastern Europe (CEE), which is already a relatively contaminated region in that respect.

The question is how much public opinion can be shifted toward a more open and nuanced position on immigration, and why this is necessary. No European countries are able to reproduce themselves demographically. Without immigration, European societies would eventually die out, to put it bluntly. And yet, the narratives coming from Péter Magyar and the TISZA Party still remain close to the idea of zero migration, much like their predecessors. So, in that domain, I definitely hope there will be a shift toward a more nuanced and complex approach—one where you do not simply say that everyone is welcome, but where you acknowledge that our economy and society require a certain level of immigration and that immigrants must be properly integrated. Any modern society has a far more diverse population than what we typically observe in Hungary.

The other major issue is Russian disinformation—anti-Ukrainian narratives and this highly hypocritical “peace narrative,” according to which Brussels and the West supposedly want to wage war against Russia, while Ukraine, together with Brussels, is portrayed as the warmonger rather than the Russian Federation itself. Over the last few years, many conspiracy theories have also been spread about foreign powers allegedly conspiring against Hungary, while the victim mentality that nationalist politics typically exploits has become very strong within Hungarian public discourse.

So, I would point especially to these two examples: anti-immigration attitudes and pro-Russian conspiracy theories, both of which have had a long-lasting impact on Hungarian society. Undoing this damage requires, on the one hand, political will. The new government, for example, should speak in a more nuanced way about immigration. But on the other hand, it also requires institutional responses—particularly regarding public media, media pluralism, public education, and so on.

Education itself has become increasingly politicized and ideological in recent years, somewhat following the Turkish model. There have even been attempts to make elementary and public education more ideologically indoctrinating. So, it also requires a certain degree of courage to remove some of the harmful nationalist narratives that are now deeply ingrained in the Hungarian curriculum.

Pre-bunking as a Democratic Defense

Tisza leader Péter Magyar
Tisza leader Péter Magyar begins a symbolic “one million steps” march to Nagyvárad, Romania, addressing reporters with supporters in Budapest, Hungary on May 14, 2025. Photo: Istvan Balogh / Dreamstime.

In your work on countering conspiracy theories, you highlight the epistemic, moral, and democratic dilemmas of debunking, including the risk of reactance and backfire effects. How should a Magyar-led government design interventions against disinformation without reinforcing polarization or appearing to curtail pluralism?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: I would say that the party now coming to government, as well as Péter Magyar, the leading figure of this movement, has already used certain anti-disinformation techniques during the campaign in a very clever way. What do I mean by that? First of all, they relied heavily on pre-bunking and preemptive communication while campaigning against Viktor Orbán before the elections.

For example, they warned in advance that Russian disinformation could spread fake stories about Péter Magyar’s private life, that kompromat (compromising) materials might emerge, and that deepfake videos related to his personal life could appear. They also cautioned voters that the other side might falsely claim that TISZA intended to introduce measures such as pension cuts—things they had never promised and never intended to implement. In other words, they prepared their supporters in advance for the kind of disinformation they expected from their opponents.

One important consequence of this strategy was that governmental disinformation and Russian influence proved highly ineffective during the elections. We could clearly see that the government’s narratives no longer resonated with the public in the way they once had. And I do think—and this is also my hope—that these tools can continue to be used in the future, not only against foreign disinformation but also, to some extent, against domestic disinformation. In the political domain, they handled the disinformation challenge very skillfully.

Of course, once you are in government, you need a much broader toolkit for combating disinformation, including forms of misinformation that affect everyday life—pseudoscience, miracle cures, and COVID- and vaccine-related disinformation, all of which spread extensively during the pandemic in Hungary. There is even an anti-vaccine party, Mi Hazánk, which has been extremely vocal in opposing mandatory vaccinations, including long-established vaccines against diseases such as rubella and polio.

Governments therefore also need to confront geopolitical disinformation originating abroad. For that, institutional responses are necessary. Media literacy education, for example, could incorporate pre-bunking and other new tools designed to teach people about disinformation and strengthen their critical thinking skills when consuming information.

I also believe there is a need for some kind of hybrid threat center capable of addressing the geopolitical disinformation Hungary is facing. During the last elections, for example, Vladimir Putin made serious attempts to influence the outcome through military intelligence services, foreign security networks, and the so-called Social Design Agency—a social media company running dark online PR campaigns using bots, trolls, and disinformation.

Ultimately, these efforts were unsuccessful. But I think they failed partly because European countries helped expose some of Russia’s plans, and also because TISZA used preemptive communication and pre-bunking very effectively during the campaign. Hopefully, these practices can now be incorporated into a broader anti-disinformation strategy.

The Risk of Reproducing Elite Privilege

To what extent does Magyar’s background as a former insider complicate the narrative of democratic rupture and renewal, and in light of recent accusations surrounding his nomination of his brother-in-law as justice minister, how might such decisions affect the legitimacy of a government that claims to restore the rule of law, potentially reproducing patterns of elite privilege associated with the previous regime?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: Thank you for this question, because I think it is extremely important for two reasons. First of all, yes, there is always a danger of abusing power, and there is also the danger of falling into clientelistic and, in some respects, nepotistic practices that were widespread under the previous government and are becoming increasingly common around the world. We can even look at the United States as an example.

So, that danger certainly exists. At the same time, I do not think that the mere fact that Péter Magyar was once a regime insider automatically makes him a born or socialized autocrat. I am also a social psychologist, so I tend to believe that human beings—not only groups, but individuals as well—can change over time depending on the environment and circumstances surrounding them.

Over the last two years, Péter Magyar has spent a great deal of time among voters, traveling throughout the country, and he has clearly become more socially sensitive. His program has also become much more left-leaning in terms of policy proposals than it was before. At the same time, he has also become somewhat more liberal—even if he remains fundamentally a conservative politician—and somewhat more democratic in the way he talks about institutional reforms and the restoration of autonomy within society.

So, I think he has changed considerably over the last two years, and everyone working closely with him, including his chief campaign manager, has said that he is probably no longer the same person he was two years ago. We have to give people the opportunity to change. So yes, he has changed significantly, and I do not believe that being a former regime insider is necessarily a problem in itself. However, the huge majority he gained in the elections definitely creates certain risks in that respect.

But there is another danger here, and this is the danger of political tribalism—political tribalism that overrides universal norms in politics and turns every principle into something particular and instrumental for gaining and maintaining political power.

What do I mean by that? I genuinely hope that opposition voters, opposition opinion leaders, and the independent media will remain just as strict regarding nepotism, abuses of power, possible corruption, and similar issues under the future government as they were under the previous one. Because there is a danger that, after sixteen years of Orbánism and widespread frustration with it, some voters may begin to believe that any tool is acceptable if it helps dismantle the remnants of the Orbán regime. That is a very dangerous way of thinking.

I sincerely hope that this transition in Hungary will not become a shift from one hybrid regime to another hybrid regime, but rather a transition from a hybrid regime toward a more democratic one. But for that to happen, you need not only self-restraint from politicians in power, but also voters who are willing to punish leaders if they depart from a democratic path.

Again, after sixteen years of increasingly authoritarian rule, this is going to be a huge experiment. I would not be able to predict exactly what will happen. We have to wait and see, but we must maintain the same critical attitude toward the new government that we had toward the previous one, in the sense that the same rules and the same norms must continue to apply.

The Loss of a Role Model for the International Far Right

From Left: Hungary PM Viktor Orban, Poland PM Beata Szydlo, Czech PM Bohuslav Sobotka and Slovakia PM Robert Fico pose prior their meeting in Prague on February 15, 2016.

Given your argument that Orbán’s model has served as a “teacher” for other illiberal regimes, what are the implications of its apparent collapse for transnational populist networks, and does his electoral defeat signal a broader vulnerability in populist radical-right regimes or rather an exceptional case that such movements may reinterpret as a temporary setback and adapt to—particularly in the realm of narrative and identity politics?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: The main challenge here is that we are witnessing two contrasting tendencies simultaneously. On the one hand, especially within the European Union, we can clearly observe the rise of illiberal, highly nativist populist parties on the right. Across the last three European Parliamentary elections, populist radical-right parties have steadily expanded their representation in the European Parliament.

We also see upcoming national elections in several countries where these forces are currently leading the polls. In France, for example, Rassemblement National (RN) is ahead. In Germany, the AfD is leading. In Austria, the FPÖ is also leading. So, in many important Western European countries, populist right-wing forces with illiberal tendencies are clearly gaining support. The United Kingdom is not an exception either, where the Reform Party is also leading in the polls.

So, this is one very visible broader trend within Europe. What are the main drivers behind it? There is a growing anti-establishment mood, declining public morale linked to economic stagnation, and immigration continuing to remain a major political issue throughout the European Union. At the same time, there are exporters of illiberalism—such as the United States, Russia, to some extent China, and several other countries as well.

And yet, despite this broader zeitgeist, Viktor Orbán was defeated in the Hungarian election. My most important point here is that perhaps we sometimes overestimate the importance of global political trends and zeitgeists. Domestic issues may ultimately be much more decisive in determining the outcome of national elections.

Viktor Orbán was defeated despite being openly supported by Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, and Benjamin Netanyahu. In the end, it was a sovereign decision made by Hungarian voters. And, in many European elections—and elections elsewhere in the world as well—we may increasingly discover that excessive support from foreign ideological allies can backfire just as much as it can help.

For example, when Donald Trump attempted to intervene politically in Canada, the liberal candidate won. Something similar happened in Australia. In Hungary, J.D. Vance visited the country shortly before the election, but this did not help Viktor Orbán at all.

So, the soft power and sharp power of authoritarian actors—including Trump, but also Orbán himself—may now be diminishing. Viktor Orbán will most likely lose his position as an international role model, and he will no longer be able to use Hungarian state resources to spread his ideology and political influence abroad.

In that sense, this represents both the loss of a symbolic role model and the loss of a financial and ideological resource for the international far right. However, I do not think we can automatically conclude from this that, for example, Marine Le Pen’s party in France is now less likely to win elections. Ultimately, elections are still decided largely by domestic concerns and the priorities of national electorates.

And I think we, as political scientists—myself included, since I am very much part of this field—sometimes place too much emphasis on global tendencies. Of course, such tendencies do exist, but there are also many important exceptions. Hungary was definitely one such exception. But perhaps it is an exception that could itself become a broader rule in the future.

The Danger of One-Sided Tribalism

Peter Magyar, a popular opposition politician of celebrity status meeting the press at the site of a soccer arena and miniature train station in Viktor Orban’s village in Felcsut, Hungary. on May 24, 2024. Photo: Blue Corner Studio.

And finally, Prof. Krekó, in your work on populism in power, you show how populist governance fosters Manichean, tribal political identities that resist compromise. What are the prospects for depolarizing such “tribalized” political cultures after a regime change, and what institutional or discursive tools might facilitate this transition?

Associate Professor Péter Krekó: Thank you again for this question. Many important and fascinating research topics are emerging through this discussion, so it is truly inspirational.

When it comes to polarization and tribalism, you generally need two sides to sustain it. In Hungary, however, I believe the biggest danger in the future may not be symmetrical polarization—where you have a very strong governmental camp and a very strong opposition camp constructing competing realities—but rather one-sided polarization, in which TISZA becomes so dominant in shaping the public narrative that, as we discussed earlier, its supporters may gradually become willing to tolerate democratic transgressions if they are not vigilant enough, simply because they remain focused on fighting the legacy of Fidesz, even if Fidesz itself becomes significantly weaker than before.

So, there is clearly a danger of one-sided tribalism and polarization. At the same time, we cannot exclude the possibility that a new political force may emerge, or that the Mi Hazánk Party—the extreme-right party I mentioned earlier—could become stronger. Polarization therefore depends partly on the direction in which both the political system and the party system evolve. And since these dynamics are changing as we speak, they remain very difficult to predict.

What I would particularly emphasize, however, is the importance of political voluntarism. If you want to weaken polarization and tribalism, you need political will. You have to stop relying on hate rhetoric against your opponents. You have to invest in messages that are more unifying than divisive. And you also have to strengthen the political center.

I actually think that all the preconditions for such a process are currently present. This is a historic opportunity for depolarization—for rebuilding not only the political center, but also the social center, because the center has almost disappeared in vertical economic terms as well. The middle class has weakened considerably in recent years. So, since the democratic transition, there has never been a better opportunity to reconstruct this center.

I can only hope that the new government and Péter Magyar will take advantage of this historic opportunity. But doing so requires self-restraint in the exercise of executive power, and it also requires restraint in the use of campaign strategies and political rhetoric toward opponents. Whether Péter Magyar and the TISZA Party will actually be capable of exercising such restraint remains an open question. Let us hope so.

Dr. Justin Patch is an Assistant Professor of Music at Vassar College.

Dr. Patch: In the Age of Populism, Politics Becomes a Struggle over Aesthetics

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Justin Patch argues that, in the age of populism, politics increasingly unfolds as a struggle over aesthetics. Rather than being peripheral, cultural forms—music, memes, and DIY practices—are central to how “the people” are experienced and constructed. As he notes, “the primary terrain of public contestation becomes aesthetic,” as citizens navigate complex political realities through affect, symbolism, and participation. While democracy depends on the capacity to feel “part of something larger than yourself,” this same impulse creates openings for populist capture. By showing how art can function as both democratic expression and ideological instrument, Patch highlights a central tension: aesthetic experience sustains collective belonging yet also enables its manipulation by populist and authoritarian actors.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Justin Patch, Assistant Professor of Music at Vassar College, offers a powerful account of how politics in the age of populism increasingly unfolds through aesthetics—through sound, image, gesture, affect, and participatory cultural forms. Rather than treating music, memes, art, or DIY production as peripheral to political life, Dr. Patch argues that they are central to how citizens experience belonging, identity, and representation. As he puts it, “the primary terrain of public contestation becomes aesthetic.”

The interview begins by situating democratic culture in practices that emerge from below. Historically, Dr. Patch notes, “the part we celebrate is the work done underneath the state.” From farmers’ organizations to populist gatherings, music, dancing, hymn singing, sewing circles, and potluck dinners created forms of sociability through which “the people” could recognize themselves as political actors. The crucial distinction, he argues, is between culture produced by communities themselves and culture appropriated by state actors or those seeking “state capture.”

This distinction becomes more urgent when Dr. Patch turns to the affective power of political mobilization. Democracy, he argues, depends on people feeling that they are “part of something larger than yourself.” Yet this same need is also democracy’s vulnerability. Populism, authoritarianism, and radical-right movements can offer the same emotional intensity and collective belonging while redirecting it toward exclusionary or leader-centered projects. “Unfortunately,”he warns, “that same need to feel part of something larger can be hijacked.”

A major theme of the conversation is how music and popular culture translate resentment into political identity. Dr. Patch explains that art can become “a proxy for political thought” because of its emotional accessibility. Whether in CasaPound’s punk and hardcore scenes, white-power music networks, or strands of country music, cultural forms can provide “social and emotional cues,” “cognitive shortcuts,” and a language through which grievance becomes durable belonging.

The interview also explores digital populism and the politics of re-signification. In Trump-era memes, parody videos, and online bricolage, Dr. Patch identifies an “aesthetic of domination” in which cultural materials are appropriated, inverted, and weaponized. The ability “to take something associated with one set of values and reframe it entirely,” he argues, becomes a symbolic victory.

Yet Dr. Patch does not reduce popular culture to manipulation. He insists on the democratic importance of self-expression, arguing that “democracy is about a kind of self-expression that communicates with others.” The challenge, then, is to cultivate aesthetic literacy without suppressing popular creativity. Art, he concludes, can be “a pedagogical tool” for learning how to live with difference—and for recognizing humanity “even in the face of profound disagreement.”

Here is the edited version of our interview with Dr. Justin Patch, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Political Culture Begins with Who Creates It: State or Society

Photo: casapounditalia.org

Dr. Patch, welcome. In your work on the “sound of democracy,” you treat music, noise, affect, and collective embodiment not as ornamental features of politics but as constitutive of democratic experience. How should we understand the role of music and art in forming democratic subjectivities at a time when polarization, distrust, and affective partisanship increasingly structure political life?

Dr. Justin Patch: When we look historically at the democratic aspects of music performance and art-making, the part we celebrate is the work done underneath the state. Even when we are talking about the 19th century—and I am being very specific about the American case here—farm labor organizing, farmers’ organizations, and populist movements, the music, art, and dancing associated with these movements came from the people themselves. It was, and I hesitate to say this, almost like a Johann Gottfried Herder-type phenomenon, where the folk arts of farmers in places like Nebraska, Oklahoma, Texas, and Minnesota became part of a political movement.

Here, I find the work of a historian named James Turner quite formative for my thinking. He talks about populist gatherings as places of much-needed sociability. In his article Understanding the Populus, which focuses on Texas, instead of looking purely at the economic output of populous counties versus democratic counties, he examines other factors, such as the number of churches and the average number of miles traveled to market. What he finds is that populous counties were actually more spread out, had less commerce from the outside, and had fewer traveling preachers. There were fewer churches coming from outside. Because they lacked established ways of gathering, populist gatherings became extremely important.

People would hold meetings lasting several days, where there were sewing circles, knitting circles, prayer circles, square dancing, hymn singing, and potluck dinners. In other words, there was a great deal of collective activity. But what is important is that these were things people already enjoyed doing, which they then did together in a collective setting.

So what you see is a distinction between music that people are already making within their communities, which is then directed toward a political purpose, and music that state actors—or those seeking some form of state capture—appropriate, repackage, and project onto society. It is a kind of push and pull, and sometimes it involves the same culture. The key difference lies in who initiates it. Is it culture initiated by the state, where the state defines what it means to be a citizen, to belong to “the people”? Or is it culture that people themselves create and practice, which they then bring into the public sphere as part of their political activity? This is a distinction we need to parse carefully.

Of course, things become more complicated when we consider musicians. In Melanie Schiller’s work with Mario Dunkel, for instance, there are cases of artists in Austria who have aligned themselves with the political right. Certainly CasaPound is an organization that uses music very effectively and has what the British once called “movement artists.” In the 1960s United States, for example, Phil Ochs was considered such a movement artist.

So, where I would begin is by distinguishing between music and art that are appropriated by state actors and those that people are already producing for themselves and then bring into the public sphere. If that makes sense.

Democracy’s Emotional Power Can Be Exploited by Populism

You argue that campaign soundscapes generate emotional intensity, collective participation, and a sense of shared political presence. To what extent are these affective atmospheres indispensable to democratic mobilization, and when do they become vulnerable to capture by authoritarian, radical-right, or supremacist political projects?

Dr. Justin Patch: This is where it becomes two sides of the same coin. Michael Kazin, in his book on American populism, writes that populist waves occur in America so often that he is tempted to say populism is built into American democracy.

Part of democracy—essentially being ruled by your peers—is something we tend to romanticize, but in reality it is a difficult position to be in. The system of popular democracy depends on people feeling that they are part of something. You feel part of something larger than yourself, and this is why democracy is often likened to religion. You secularize authority by saying you are not ruled by God but by a political system, yet you still seek what Freud calls an “oceanic feeling.”

You need that feeling for democracy to function effectively. People must feel that they belong to something larger, but this is also the weak link through which populism, authoritarianism, and similar forces can enter. They can provide that same sense of belonging while, at the same time, redistributing wealth upward to the top one percent. It is, in many ways, the same process.

I remember watching a campaign event in New Hampshire in 2024. My brother and I saw the same event and later discussed it on the phone. He was struck by a man they interviewed, who, when asked about January 6, 2020, and what the truth of it was, replied, “Whatever Donald Trump says is the truth.” I felt an immense sense of sadness at that moment. When we look at the Gini coefficient in the United States and the number of people who are struggling, we see individuals who are searching for something to believe in—who want to be part of something larger than themselves.

What troubles me is that what presented itself to them was Donald Trump and the MAGA movement—something that, beneath its rhetoric, is deeply pernicious—instead of something more constructive. As we mark May Day, we are reminded of the history of labor and labor movements in the United States and Europe. There were periods when people rallied around the idea of supporting working people. Even in the 19th century, many middle-class individuals expressed empathy for the plight of workers. There have been powerful movements in which people looked at the underclasses and said, “You deserve something better.”

As the Supreme Court rolls back the last elements of the Voting Rights Act this week in the United States, we are reminded that, in the 1960s, a majority believed that Black Americans deserved better. These are moments we look back on and recognize that there was a form of empathy—perhaps not radical empathy, but empathy nonetheless—which was tied to the need to feel part of something larger than oneself.

Unfortunately, that same need to feel part of something larger can be hijacked. This is part of the democratic process, at least in the United States. I am not sure there is any guarantee—there is no perfect democracy in which the threat of populism does not exist in some form.

Music Transforms Resentment into Political Belonging

Photo: Dreamstime.

In your analysis of music’s political economy, you emphasize how music provides “social and emotional cues,” creates “cognitive shortcuts,” and affirms identities. How does this help explain the power of far-right cultural ecosystems—from CasaPound’s aesthetic politics in Italy to white-power music networks, identitarian media, and nationalist festivals—to transform diffuse resentment into durable political belonging?

Dr. Justin Patch: When people spend time together, it has an effect on them. When I was younger, I played in rock bands, and when you are playing music, other issues inevitably come up in conversation. There is a process through which cultural leaders can become thought leaders. It is not necessarily a one-to-one relationship, but it often happens.

The beauty—and the danger—of this dynamic is that art becomes a proxy for political thought, partly because of its emotional accessibility. Terry Eagleton, in his early 1990s book The Ideology of the Aesthetic, examines how ideologies are embedded in aesthetics and in the social relations that produce them. Although he focuses mainly on visual art and literature, the insight applies here as well.

If we look at white-power music and CasaPound, for example, much of CasaPound’s music is punk rock and hardcore. This appeals to a very specific audience, often predominantly male. The resentment felt by men in the post-industrial West—if we look at the statistics, in Italy, much like in the United States, non-college-educated white men are falling behind—is captured and expressed through this music. Hardcore, in particular, channels that sense of grievance.

To borrow Althusserian language, it “hails” people together, aggregating them and creating a space in which they can think collectively. CasaPound is able to do this effectively. In smaller pockets, white-power music in the United States performs a similar function. However, there are other forms of music with much broader audiences that do something comparable.

In the United States, certain strands of country music, with far larger fan bases, operate in a similar way. Songs like Try That in a Small Town or Rich Men North of Richmond,” which have charted, translate resentment into a popular idiom. They move it out of the language of newspapers and political speeches and embed it in everyday life.

Former Foreign Service officer, David J. Firestein, wrote an article called “The Honky Tonk Gap,” in which he examined George W. Bush and his relationship with Nashville country music. He argued that Bush was able to adopt the vocabulary of country songwriters in his political rhetoric, creating a link between how he spoke, how musicians sang, and how his audience spoke among themselves. This helped build a kind of intellectual ecosystem across those domains. In that sense, he was able to draw on a shared cultural repertoire with his intended voters and use it very effectively. Country music in the United States has done something similar—on a much larger scale—than white-power music does in more limited contexts, particularly in the mid-2000s.

Digital Populism Thrives on Inverting Cultural Symbols

In “Editing for Partisanship,” you describe Trump-era populist art as grounded not in stable formal properties but in a “relational aesthetic” marked by domination, ridicule, violence, and re-signification. How does this concept illuminate the contemporary radical right’s use of memes, parody, music videos, flags, street art, and digital bricolage to produce “the people” against feminists, migrants, racial minorities, liberals, and cosmopolitan elites?

Dr. Justin Patch: When I look at the digital ecosystem, what you have are communities that are, in many ways, pre-made. You have people who follow certain accounts and others who follow each other because they know one another. Within this context, digital culture—music videos, memes, Photoshop, and similar forms—gives people an opportunity to participate.

Part of the language of participation involves familiarity and humor, but there is also something like a culture and aesthetic of domination. This may sound unusual, but we can see a parallel in DJ culture. One of the things DJs do, especially when they know their audiences well, is to play tracks people have not heard for a while, disguise tracks by starting them in unexpected places, or mix together seemingly unrelated pieces. Sometimes they introduce something that feels almost like a non sequitur, but if it works, the audience responds enthusiastically. It demonstrates creativity and a willingness to think outside the box, but it is also a form of control. The DJ exercises aesthetic authority by blending disparate elements—disco and ragamuffin—into something seamless.

I think this aesthetic of domination operates in a similar way. It still relies on humor and ridicule, but the further one can push into unexpected or even transgressive territory—particularly into spaces perceived as belonging to an “enemy.” The more recognition one gains for creativity, the more one can appropriate elements associated with, for instance, left-leaning culture and invert their meaning, the more powerful the result becomes.

In Editing for Partisanship, I use the example of Footloose. For those unfamiliar with it, it is a 1980s feel-good film about tensions between urban and rural life in a conservative Christian town that bans dancing. A young man from the city arrives and mobilizes the youth against the older generation. In the end, as in many films of that era, there is a resolution: the youth are allowed to dance, authority is partially preserved, and the narrative concludes on an optimistic note.

Dan Scavino takes the chorus of Footloose and sets it to footage from Portland showing anti-government, anti-Trump protesters, including an incident in which one protester accidentally sets his feet on fire with a Molotov cocktail. What made that clip go viral, and what made it so striking to me, was the radical re-signification of a song associated with a more conciliatory cultural moment into something distinctly aligned with the MAGA movement.

It is precisely this capacity to invert meaning—to take something associated with one set of values and reframe it entirely—that is highly valued within this particular populist movement. The ability to appropriate and transform cultural material in this way is seen as a significant victory.

Imperfection Becomes the Currency of Political Credibility

Your work suggests that popular culture functions as a medium through which populist communities imagine themselves as authentic, embattled, and morally superior. How do movements such as MAGA, CasaPound, Generation Identity, Hindutva cultural networks, and European radical-right youth scenes use DIY (do it yourself) aesthetics to blur the line between grassroots participation and ideological discipline?

Dr. Justin Patch: DIY is such an interesting concept. George McKay, in his edited volume on DIY, cautions that DIY is not a utopia and is not always a left-leaning phenomenon. There is plenty of conservative DIY as well. The key point about DIY is that it carries a veneer of authenticity. DIY culture is always emblematic of the people who create it, but it also has an aesthetic—and it is this aesthetic that can be co-opted. We see this quite frequently. At the present moment, DIY culture is very important in constructing “the people.”

Let me step back for a moment. Some years ago, probably in the 2010s, I met an EDM (electronic dance music) producer by chance. We were chatting, and he remarked that when everything can be made perfect—when digital tools allow for perfect timing and sound—the real challenge is capturing the imperfection that makes something compelling. When you listen to artists like Aretha Franklin or Marvin Gaye, there is always something slightly off—slightly behind the beat or slightly out of tune—that listeners find appealing.

In a digital environment where perfection is possible, DIY and its associated imperfections become signifiers of authenticity. It is the difference between a perfectly staged shot and a slightly shaky, handheld recording. Even if the latter is less polished, it conveys a stronger sense of authenticity.

What we see now is that political actors are deliberately adopting this veneer of authenticity. Highly polished, “Madison Avenue”-style political advertising increasingly appears inauthentic to younger audiences. During the 2020 US election, for example, Joe Biden’s campaign invited individuals to record themselves explaining why they supported him. These clips were edited into campaign materials and proved more effective than professionally produced advertisements that cost millions of dollars.

The DIY aesthetic, then, becomes a marker of authenticity that political actors seek to harness, because voters respond to what feels genuine. One of the major criticisms of Hillary Clinton in 2016 was that she appeared inauthentic—overly scripted and guarded—which many voters rejected.

What remains, in many ways, is DIY. As Anthony Giddens argued, in the context of postmodernity, trust becomes central. The DIY aesthetic functions as an index of authenticity and humanity. The problem, however, is that it is still an aesthetic—and therefore something that can be appropriated and instrumentalized.

The Key Question Is Not What People Create, but Why

DIY
Photo: Dreamstime.

In your account, citizen-made art is central to the construction of populist identity because it is “by, of, and for the people.” How should we distinguish between genuinely democratic cultural participation and participatory authoritarianism, where citizens voluntarily reproduce exclusionary, supremacist, or leader-centered political imaginaries?

Dr. Justin Patch: This is always the big question. What are cultural outpourings that are essentially top-down, and what constitutes cultural production that is bottom-up—production from the peripheries, and so on?

At a certain point, it becomes difficult to draw that distinction, because if someone genuinely supports populist candidates, there is no straightforward way to say that this is not an authentic voice of the people. When I look at Trump-related art—work produced by very young people, very old people, and those at the margins of the movement—I am hesitant to say that it is all co-opted. There are people who genuinely believe that Trump will be good for them.

For me, as an analyst, it becomes more important to ask why. Where have we failed—in terms of the economy, education, or public awareness—that someone would believe that this person’s policies would benefit them, or that this person genuinely cares about their well-being? In that sense, it becomes a second-order analysis. It is one thing to examine the art people create for a populist cause; it is another to ask why this is happening.

How is it that so many young men believe in this so strongly that they create their own podcasts, memes, graffiti, T-shirts, hats, and bumper stickers, or even decorate their vehicles as shrines? Why do they feel so passionately about this? In many cases, some of the DIY art I have examined expresses messages that run counter to official campaign messaging, yet remains unapologetically pro-Trump. What these individuals believe Trumpism to be can differ significantly from actual policies, but they believe in it nonetheless.

That kind of projection offers a window into how people manage their everyday lives. In Jim McGuigan’s sense, this can be understood as a genuine voice of the people. Whether we like it or agree with it is a separate question. From an analytical perspective, the issue is whether this reflects how people actually think.

I am hesitant to dismiss such expressions outright, unless they are clearly repeating talking points from talk radio or television. If they fall outside that realm, they are worth examining, because they reveal how people understand and experience the world. And that is important to understand.

Citizens Engage More with Feeling than Policy

An elderly woman prays amidst a busy crowd in Sydney, Australia. Photo: Martin Graf.

How should we theorize the relationship between aesthetic experience and democratic legitimacy when citizens feel more directly represented by songs, memes, symbols, and performative rituals than by parties, parliaments, or policy platforms?

Dr. Justin Patch: This is very much a Terry Eagleton question. Eagleton writes about the problems of the modern state: economic, educational, infrastructure, human policy, health policy—all of this is so complex that, as an everyday citizen, you are quite literally not equipped with either the knowledge or the totality of information needed to be a full participant in these discussions.

For those of us who enjoy discussing politics, at some point you have to admit that you do not have the full suite of information even to think about crafting policy. I often tell people that when I was working on Obama’s campaign in Texas, you had these incredibly crafted 45-minute speeches. But in the Texas Democratic Party office, we also had Barack Obama’s white papers—ten small volumes covering education policy, domestic policy, health policy, international policy, and economic policy. You could read through them, if you had the time to read ten books. These are two very different things. How we feel publicly about someone’s persona, how they come across, is very different from how we feel about policy.

Unfortunately, the complexities of the modern state are such that we cannot all fully participate in policy debates. But, to Eagleton’s point, what we can participate in is the aesthetic dimension. We respond to how something sounds, looks, and feels. Someone uses campaign music that makes us feel good; someone presents themselves in a particular way or frames an issue in a certain way. All of these are aesthetic elements.

I was once giving a talk at a conference in the Netherlands, and a political scientist said to me, “How can you call Trump populist? His policies are oligarchic, if anything.” I said, “You are not wrong. But I am talking about how he campaigns as populist, not what his policies are.” His campaign is anti-elite, people-centered, and displays many hallmarks of populism, even if his policies are not anti-elite.

So you can have an aesthetic that is populist, or even radically democratic, without having policies that reflect that. I think one of the dangers of modern society is that the knowledge required to govern is so specialized that the primary terrain of public contestation becomes aesthetic. As a result, we end up with these aesthetic shortcuts. For example, Nashville country becomes coded as conservative, while artists like Bruce Springsteen, Taylor Swift, or throwback Motown become associated with more progressive audiences. That becomes the dividing line, rather than the ability to have a substantive debate about policy.

A good example—just from the news this morning—is vaccine policy. Vaccine policy is remarkably complex, yet it is often reduced to a binary: vaccines are bad on one side and vaccines are good on the other. The actual substantive debate is far more complicated. If I did not know people with PhDs in virology, it would be difficult for me to evaluate those arguments. I am fortunate to have access to that expertise, but most people do not. And so, what remains for public contestation is aesthetics.

Art as a Training Ground for Living with Difference

Photo: Dreamstime.

And finally, Dr. Patch, in an era of democratic backsliding, digital populism, supremacist subcultures, and authoritarian cultural politics, what responsibilities do scholars, artists, educators, and democratic institutions have in cultivating forms of aesthetic literacy capable of resisting manipulation while preserving the democratic vitality of popular culture?

Dr. Justin Patch: I think I am one of those people who, even though I teach at a conservatory, is not concerned with what kind of art people make. I am very concerned that people make art—that they are given the freedom to express themselves—because, ultimately, democracy is about a kind of self-expression that communicates with others.

From the ground up, there has to be a way for people to express themselves and share their ideas in a healthy way. When we look at partisanship, especially as it tilts toward the kind of violence we have seen in the United States, as well as in Australia and Europe, one of the issues is that there is no adequate way for people to express themselves and have healthy encounters with those who think differently.

Art is one way this can happen early on, as a kind of pedagogical training ground. One of my colleagues in Boston once described rap battles and DJ battles as a form of peer review. In academia, we write something, present it at conferences, and receive feedback; he argued that this is exactly what rappers and DJs go through. As they perform, they receive immediate feedback from audiences, who let them know in various ways how they are doing. The same applies to art exhibitions, critiques, and even “battle of the bands” events.

This kind of experience is very important for teaching people how to deal with difference. Many of the issues we face—whether in Europe, particularly regarding Muslim immigrants, or in the United States, where tensions often revolve around race, as well as religion, gender, and LGBTQ issues—reflect an inability to engage with difference and to recognize humanity beyond it.

Art, as a pedagogical tool, provides a way to learn how to engage with difference. From a young age, individuals can be placed in environments where their expressions may differ—sometimes radically—from those of others, and they can learn how to navigate those differences.

I often think about this in relation to my experience as a soccer referee. One of the things I appreciate about youth sports is that you can compete intensely with someone, but once the whistle blows, the competition ends. I think of players like Paul Scholes, who was fierce on the field but known as a genuinely kind person off it. That is, in some sense, my political ideal. People should be able to fight passionately for what they believe in and advocate strongly for what they want to create, but that process should not prevent them from recognizing the humanity of others.

Working with art—engaging in self-expression within a community, not just individually—is how we learn to live with difference. That, to me, is essential for building a society prepared for the realities of the twenty-first century, where difference is not an exception but a constant. It is something we must teach—from young people to older generations—how to engage with difference and how to recognize humanity even in the face of profound disagreement.

Dr. Filip Milacic is a senior researcher at the Friedrich Ebert Foundation’s "Democracy of the Future” Office.

Dr. Milacic: Outbidding Autocrats on Nationalism Only Strengthens Their Legitimacy

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Filip Milacic argues that democrats should not abandon patriotic language to autocrats. Instead, they must develop inclusive and emotionally resonant national counternarratives. Warning that “outbidding autocrats on nationalism only strengthens their legitimacy,” Dr. Milacic explains how authoritarian incumbents justify democratic erosion through “threat narratives” portraying the nation, sovereignty, or identity as endangered. He emphasizes that dignity, recognition, and belonging are crucial drivers of political behavior often neglected by liberal democratic theory. Drawing on cases from Hungary, Poland, Serbia, Turkey, Israel, Brazil, and the United States, he argues that democratic resilience requires institutions, strategy, and narratives—because politics is “fundamentally a battle of narratives.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

At a moment when democratic systems across Europe and beyond are increasingly challenged by populist mobilization, identity conflicts, and institutional erosion, the politics of nationalism has re-emerged as a central battleground. Authoritarian and illiberal actors have proven particularly adept at embedding their political projects within emotionally resonant narratives of national protection, sovereignty, and belonging. It is within this contested terrain that Dr. Filip Milacic’s intervention—captured in the striking claim that “outbidding autocrats on nationalism only strengthens their legitimacy”—acquires both analytical urgency and normative significance. His work invites a reconsideration of how democratic actors engage with the nation not as a fixed identity, but as a politically constructed and contested narrative space.

In this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Milacic—senior researcher at the Friedrich Ebert Foundation’s “Democracy of the Future” office—offers an empirically rich account of democratic backsliding, authoritarian legitimation, and the role of narrative politics. Central to his argument is the contention that opposition forces face a strategic dilemma when confronting nationalist authoritarianism: to ignore the nation, to mimic exclusionary nationalism, or to construct an alternative vision. While the first two options remain common, Dr. Milacic insists that “the third option is the most promising”—namely, the development of a democratic counter-narrative that is both emotionally compelling and normatively inclusive.

This emphasis on narrative is not merely rhetorical but deeply structural. As Dr. Milacic underscores, authoritarian actors do not simply dismantle democratic institutions; they justify such actions through what he terms “threat narratives.” In these narratives, “the state is under attack” and “the nation, national identity, or national sovereignty [is] threatened,”thereby creating a moral and emotional framework within which democratic erosion becomes acceptable, even necessary. Crucially, these narratives resonate not because citizens misunderstand democracy, but because, as he notes, voters often support such leaders “not because of their authoritarian policies, but in spite of them.” This insight shifts the analytical focus from institutional breakdown alone to the discursive processes that legitimize it.

Equally important is Dr. Milacic’s critique of prevailing assumptions within liberal democratic theory. By foregrounding dignity, recognition, and belonging, he challenges the reduction of political behavior to economic rationality. Instead, he argues that “interests related to self-esteem, dignity, and recognition are significant,” and that the nation remains a powerful source of both identity and security. This helps explain why authoritarian narratives, particularly in contexts marked by “formative rifts” such as territorial disputes or contested identities, gain traction so effectively.

Yet Dr. Milacic resists deterministic conclusions. While some societies may be more structurally susceptible to such narratives, they are not condemned to authoritarian outcomes. Democratic resilience, he argues, depends on political agency and the capacity to craft inclusive, emotionally resonant counter-narratives. Ultimately, the interview advances a compelling thesis: that the defense of democracy today requires not only institutional safeguards but also a re-engagement with the symbolic and affective dimensions of political life—because, as Dr. Milacic concludes, politics is “fundamentally a battle of narratives.”

Here is the edited version of our interview with Dr. Filip Milacic, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Reclaiming Patriotism Without Exclusion

Photo: Dreamstime.

Dr. Milacic, welcome. In “How to Defeat the Authoritarian Message,” you argue that democrats cannot leave patriotic language to autocrats. How can liberal-democratic actors reclaim national identity without reproducing exclusionary nationalism or validating the authoritarian framing of “the nation under siege”?

Dr. Filip Milacic: What I argue in my book, and also in a recent piece in the Journal of Democracy, is that when the opposition is faced with an authoritarian incumbent who uses national appeals as a justification for the subversion of democracy, it has two or three options. The first is to ignore the issue of the nation. The second is to try to outflank the authoritarian incumbent from the right, meaning to be more nationalist. The third is to create a counter-narrative. I think this third option is the most promising.

However, developing a counter-narrative is not easy. What I have tried to do is offer some guidance to political actors on how to draft such a narrative, based on research I have conducted in several countries. The first criterion is to identify a topic with a strong emotional underpinning. This is crucial. The topic must also be linked to the concept of the nation, because only then can it effectively mobilize voters.

At the same time, this is context-dependent. There is no single topic that fits all cases. It depends on the country. The topic could relate to national history or to contemporary issues. In choosing it, the opposition faces a trade-off. If it wants to defeat the authoritarian incumbent, it needs to win over some of the incumbent’s voters. This requires a narrative that is inclusive not only for its own supporters but also for moderate voters on the other side—those who are willing to switch and are not strongly partisan.

This task is easier in ethnically and religiously homogeneous societies, where it is more feasible to find an inclusive theme. In countries marked by so-called formative rifts—disputes over national identity or territory—it becomes much harder. These rifts are often instrumentalized by authoritarian incumbents as a justification for undermining democracy.

As a result, such issues are very difficult for the opposition to ignore. The Kosovo issue in Serbia or the Kurdish issue in Turkey, for example, is frequently used to legitimize attacks on democracy. The key question is therefore how to approach them. In my research, including cases such as Israel, I find that the opposition faces another trade-off: whether to prioritize inclusion of moderate voters from the majority population or to be more inclusive toward minorities, assuming a deep societal divide between the two.

This depends on the scale and depth of the conflict. In some cases, the divide is so entrenched that the opposition is reluctant to accommodate minority concerns. For instance, the Israeli protest movement in 2023 was more inclusive toward moderate government voters than toward Israeli Arabs. By contrast, in Turkey, the opposition has recently become more inclusive toward the Kurdish minority. Yet this raises another question: will such a strategy also appeal to some government voters? To win elections, the opposition must attract at least a portion of them.

Reconciling these groups is therefore extremely difficult. Finding a topic that addresses a formative rift while remaining sufficiently inclusive is a major challenge. Still, it is not impossible. There are windows of opportunity that allow the opposition to construct an inclusive narrative and even bypass these deeply politicized divides, which authoritarian incumbents rely on to sustain their power.

One example, though not part of my systematic research, is Sri Lanka. Despite strong ethnic cleavages, a presidential candidate recently campaigned on a platform centered on economic progress, good governance, and the provision of public goods for all citizens. However, this approach is often contingent on a severe economic crisis and widespread corruption. In such conditions, these issues acquire strong emotional resonance, extending beyond purely economic concerns.

In this context, it becomes possible to construct a patriotic counter-narrative based on good governance, partially bypassing identity-based conflicts. This is not a universally applicable or particularly reassuring solution, as it implies that such narratives emerge under conditions of crisis. Nonetheless, we observe similar dynamics elsewhere. In Hungary, for example, dissatisfaction with economic performance and corruption has enabled figures like Peter Magyar to develop elements of a counter-narrative centered on good governance.

In some contexts, therefore, widespread corruption and economic failure can open a window of opportunity to bridge divides between electoral groups and construct a patriotic narrative focused on good governance.

Backsliding Is Also a Battle Over the Nation

Photo: Iryna Kushnarova.

Your argument suggests that authoritarian incumbents succeed not simply by attacking institutions, but by embedding those attacks in emotionally resonant narratives of national protection. Should we therefore understand democratic backsliding primarily as an institutional process, or as a discursive struggle over who legitimately embodies the nation?

Dr. Filip Milacic: I do not deny that democratic backsliding is primarily institutional, based on attacks against different elements of democracy, especially so-called executive aggrandizement. However, what I am trying to suggest is that we need to take a step back.

In my work, I have conducted numerous surveys across different countries, and I can say that even voters of parties associated with democratic backsliding—such as Fidesz in Hungary, PiS in Poland, or SNS in Serbia—also endorse and value democracy. This raises an important question: do they perhaps not understand what democracy is? My colleagues and I examined this by asking questions related to so-called democratic competence, and we found that most of them do understand what democracy is and what it is not. Yet they continue to re-elect leaders such as Orbán, Kaczyński previously, and Vučić in Serbia.

So the question becomes: if the majority is pro-democratic and understands democracy, why do they still support these leaders? What I try to do is take a step back and show that they are not voting for these leaders because of their authoritarian policies, but in spite of them. I then investigated this further and found substantial evidence for what I call a “threat narrative.” In the cases I analyzed, before attacks on democracy occurred, there was consistently a narrative suggesting that the state was under attack—that the nation, national identity, or national sovereignty was threatened.

This narrative serves as a crucial justification for attacks on democracy in the name of the nation. In other words, we need to pay attention not only to the institutional dimension of democratic backsliding but also to how such actions are justified. Authoritarian incumbents do not simply undermine democratic institutions and expect voters to accept it; justification is key. My argument is that, before subverting democracy in the name of the nation, these actors construct a narrative in which the nation itself is under threat—and this narrative resonates with voters.

Dignity and Belonging Drive Politics

You emphasize dignity, recognition, and belonging as neglected dimensions of political behavior. To what extent has liberal democratic theory underestimated the affective power of the nation, and how should democratic strategy change once nationalism is understood as a source of personal and collective dignity?

Dr. Filip Milacic: I personally think that we have at least a partially flawed conception of human nature. Much of the literature is based on the assumption that actors are rational individuals whose primary aim is to maximize their economic benefits. While this is partly true, it does not provide a complete picture. There are also interests that are not related to the economy but are nonetheless very important to voters, such as recognition and personal dignity.

These interests may seem abstract. They are not as concrete as wanting more money in one’s pocket or an increase in one’s pension. However, interests related to self-esteem, dignity, and recognition are significant, even if they are less tangible, and this is precisely why they are often overlooked. I believe they are crucial drivers of voting behavior.

If we accept that dignity and recognition matter to voters, we must also acknowledge that people derive a great deal of their self-esteem from group membership. This is why belonging and community are so important. The nation, in particular, is one of the most significant groups. Belonging to a nation contributes not only to individual self-esteem but also to how people perceive their own value.

A simple example illustrates this dynamic. Whether we like it or not, we often feel proud and happy when our country succeeds in international sports competitions. This affects our sense of self-worth, even if we do not fully recognize it. It is a straightforward illustration of how group belonging reinforces self-esteem.

At the same time, groups such as the nation are not only important for self-esteem but also for security. Social psychology shows that belonging to a group provides individuals with a sense of security, which becomes particularly important in times of crisis and uncertainty, such as those we are currently experiencing.

In other words, if we accept that groups like the nation are central to individuals’ self-esteem and sense of security, we can better understand political developments over the past 10 or 15 years. Economic explanations alone are not sufficient.

Identity Conflicts Fuel Authoritarianism

Kurdish people walk by the bombed buildings after the curfew in Şırnak province of Turkey on March 3, 2016. Armed conflict between Turkish security forces and PKK (Kurdistan Worker’s Party) members killed hundreds of people.

In your work on stateness and democratic backsliding, you show that unresolved questions of statehood and national identity create fertile ground for ethno-political entrepreneurship. How should democrats respond when autocrats exploit formative rifts—such as Kosovo in Serbia, the Kurdish question in Turkey, or territorial disputes elsewhere—as justification for concentrating power?

Dr. Filip Milacic: As I mentioned in response to your previous question, context is crucial, particularly in my research. I have found that countries marked by so-called formative rifts—meaning disputed territory or contested national identity—are especially prone to the subversion of democracy in the name of the nation. These disputes generate nationalism and provide a powerful resource for authoritarian incumbents, as it is much easier to develop a so-called threat narrative when such issues remain unresolved. By contrast, where no such issues exist, threats to the nation often have to be constructed.

Let me compare Turkey and Hungary. In Hungary, Orbán had to invent threats to the nation, portraying immigrants or sexual minorities as dangers. For Erdoğan, this was easier because of the ongoing conflict between the Turks and Kurds. The presence of a real, unresolved dispute makes it easier to construct a convincing threat narrative.

How, then, should the opposition respond? As I suggested earlier, it should not attempt to outbid the authoritarian incumbent on nationalist grounds. In Turkey, the opposition initially pursued this strategy but eventually realized that it only reinforced the incumbent’s narrative. Instead, the opposition needs to develop a counter-narrative. A similar dynamic can be observed in Serbia, where Vučić has consistently used the Kosovo issue to justify attacks on democracy. Whenever the opposition tried to outflank him from the right, it failed.

However, developing such a counter-narrative is extremely difficult. When there is a deep conflict between majority and minority groups, the opposition faces a dilemma. To defeat the incumbent, it must win over some of their voters. This requires a narrative that does not ignore the formative rift but is still acceptable to both minority groups and segments of the government’s electorate. This is very challenging, and I do not have a definitive answer on how to resolve it.

What I can suggest is that there are moments when these conflicts become less salient, creating a window of opportunity. The opposition should use such moments to develop a narrative based on good governance, if the context allows. When the economy is underperforming, corruption is widespread, and citizens are dissatisfied with economic outcomes, these issues can become central. In such cases, it is possible to construct a patriotic narrative centered on good governance and strong institutions that deliver for all parts of society. This kind of narrative can be inclusive enough to appeal across different electoral groups.

Legislative Capture Enables Power Consolidation

Your Serbia research identifies “legislative capture” as a pathway through which Aleksandar Vučić transformed nationalist legitimacy into institutional domination. How does this pathway differ from more familiar forms of executive aggrandizement, and what early warning signs should democratic actors watch for?

Dr. Filip Milacic: I do not disagree that in Serbia the key issue is executive aggrandizement, meaning the accumulation of power in the hands of Aleksandar Vučić. However, what I sought to highlight is the role of parliament. Even though we now have a very strong executive at the expense of other branches of government, this process largely unfolded through parliament. Some scholars refer to this as so-called autocratic legalism. In this contemporary process of democratic backsliding, many measures are formally adopted through parliamentary procedures.

This is why it is called legislative capture. Full control of parliament becomes crucial for initiating democratic backsliding, and to achieve that, one must fully control the parliamentary majority. I believe this was the mechanism in Serbia, and in many other countries: a leader who fully controls the party. This is important to emphasize, as the role of political parties in democratic backsliding is often overlooked.

Once Vučić established control over the party and, consequently, over the parliamentary majority, it became much easier for him to implement anti-democratic policies and engage in attacks on various elements of democracy. In my view, the first step was his portrayal of himself as the savior of the nation and of the West as a threat to Serbia, particularly in relation to the Kosovo issue. This strengthened his legitimacy as a so-called savior of the nation, which in turn enabled him to consolidate control over his party, followed by full control of parliament. The final step is that full control of parliament allows the leader to extend control over many nominally independent institutions and to engage in broader power consolidation.

As for early warning signs, I would focus on these threat narratives. If we see an incumbent portraying himself as the savior of the nation while presenting the nation as being under threat, this should be understood as a clear warning sign of potential attacks on democracy carried out in the name of protecting the nation.

Nationalism Outbidding Strengthens Autocrats

Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić participates in an SNS political campaign at Hall Čair in Niš, Serbia, on March 30, 2022. Photo: Radule Perisic.

In the Serbian case, Vučić’s self-presentation as defender of Kosovo and of the Serbian nation gave him a special legitimacy that facilitated party control, parliamentary capture, and the weakening of oversight institutions. How can opposition forces challenge such “national protector” narratives without appearing indifferent to national concerns?

Dr. Filip Milacic: For me, Serbia is a very interesting case, because Kosovo has played a central role in justifying attacks on democracy. The key question, as I also mentioned in relation to the Kurdish issue or the Israeli–Arab divide in Israel, is how to overcome these divisions and build an electoral majority.

In Serbia, opposition actors at times tried to be more nationalist on the Kosovo issue than Vučić, but this strategy failed. The question, then, is how to address voters’ concerns on these issues—on these formative rifts—without strengthening the authoritarian incumbent. I think the opposition in Serbia may now have an opportunity due to a major tragedy, when part of a railway station collapsed, killing 16 citizens. This event demonstrated that, in the absence of the rule of law and strong institutions, and in the presence of widespread corruption, it can cost lives. It is not only that the system fails to perform; people’s lives are put at risk.

This creates the kind of window of opportunity, allowing the opposition to move beyond the Kosovo issue, which strongly divides the electorate. It can instead construct a counter-narrative based on good governance, the rule of law, and democracy, but framed in patriotic terms. In other words, this tragedy illustrates what happens when a country lacks strong institutions and democratic governance.

These are the kinds of windows of opportunity—often arising from tragic circumstances—that the opposition can use to build a narrative that is inclusive enough to appeal to different segments of the electorate.

No Society Is Doomed to Authoritarianism

Your comparative work suggests that authoritarian threat narratives are most effective when they resonate with preexisting historical memories, territorial losses, demographic anxieties, or narratives of victimhood. Are some societies structurally more vulnerable to authoritarian nationalism, or can democratic counternarratives neutralize these vulnerabilities?

Dr. Filip Milacic: As I noted in response to your earlier question, justification is central to attacks on democracy, and threat narratives play a key role in that process. Research by other scholars also shows that narratives about endangered identity or sovereignty tend to resonate more strongly in societies marked by historical losses of territory or sovereignty, as well as in those shaped by formative rifts and demographic anxieties.

All the cases I analyze in my book exhibit these characteristics, which made it easier for authoritarian incumbents to develop narratives that resonated with the population. This resonance is essential, as it makes voters more willing to accept attacks on democracy in the name of protecting an allegedly endangered nation.

However, this does not imply a deterministic path dependency. Societies marked by these factors are not doomed. Poland is a good example. Despite being characterized by many of these conditions, the opposition managed to develop a counter-narrative in 2023 based on EU membership and its role in shaping Polish identity as part of the West. They also emphasized that PiS was jeopardizing this position through its authoritarian policies. This demonstrates that an inclusive counter-narrative is possible even in societies that are historically and structurally more prone to threat-driven narratives.

Another example, not covered in my book, is the United States. It is not marked by the same historical experiences of territorial or sovereignty loss, yet Donald Trump was able to construct a threat-driven narrative that resonated widely. This suggests that contemporary issues, such as immigration, can also serve as the basis for such narratives.

Ultimately, political agency plays a crucial role. It matters greatly whether the opposition is able to develop a counter-narrative that resonates with the public.

Inclusive Narratives Strengthen Democracy

Inclusion and Diversity.
Photo: Dreamstime.

You argue that democratic resistance must develop a nation-related counternarrative rather than ignore nationalism or try to outbid autocrats ethno-nationally. What distinguishes a democratic patriotic counternarrative from a merely softer version of authoritarian nationalism?

Dr. Filip Milacic: I would return to what I said at the beginning about “the three options.” Sometimes the opposition ignores this issue, but when it does not, it often tries to outbid the authoritarian incumbent or, as you mentioned, develops a softer ethno-nationalist alternative. I believe that is the wrong approach.

So how can we differentiate between trying to outflank the authoritarian incumbent and developing a genuine counter-narrative? It comes down to content. A counter-narrative must be inclusive. I am not suggesting that it needs to include 100 percent of the population, but it should be inclusive of a large majority. This is important not only for practical reasons, such as winning elections, but also because it is morally justified and helps define what an inclusive national narrative should be.

First, the choice of topic and its framing are crucial—they must be inclusive. Second, the purpose of the narrative differs. Threat-driven narratives are used to justify attacks on democracy. A counter-narrative should do the opposite: it should be designed to strengthen and safeguard democracy, rather than to serve as a justification for undermining it.

Political Agency Shapes Counter-Narratives

In Poland, Brazil, Israel, and Hungary, you identify cases where opposition actors used patriotic or nationally rooted language to mobilize resistance. What made these counternarratives persuasive, and why have similar efforts been weaker in cases such as Serbia, Turkey, India, or the United States?

Dr. Filip Milacic: For me, political agency is very important here. I conducted many interviews with political actors while researching my book, particularly from the opposition, and I identified two types of politicians. One group would say that the nation as a topic is not relevant and would therefore avoid addressing it. The second group would acknowledge its relevance but admit that they do not know how to develop a counter-narrative. This is why political agency matters so much.

I understand that developing a counter-narrative is not easy, but if a politician chooses to pursue it, some guidance can be offered. The first criterion is that the topic must be emotional, because this is the only way to mobilize people—not only in the streets but also at the ballot box. The topic may be drawn from national history, but it can also be something contemporary.

For example, in Brazil, President Lula frequently framed the contemporary international context—particularly the role of the United States—as a challenge to Brazilian sovereignty, portraying his opponents as aligned with external interests while presenting himself as a defender of national autonomy. The EU, in the case of Poland—and more recently Hungary—served as another contemporary reference point. Péter Magyar, for instance, framed the election as a choice between Hungary as a European, Western democracy or as what he called an Eastern autocracy. This illustrates how contemporary themes can be effective, although historical references can also play a powerful role.

The Israeli protest movement in 2023 provides another example. Protesters invoked the Israeli Declaration of Independence, emphasizing its vision of Israel as a liberal democracy. They argued that the government, by introducing authoritarian measures, was acting against this founding principle—that Israel is a state of all its citizens, regardless of ethnic or religious background.

These examples show that the choice of topic is highly context-dependent. Each opposition must draw on its own national context. In some cases, the economy can also be important. Where authoritarian incumbents mismanage the economy and corruption is widespread, as in Hungary, good governance can become a powerful basis for a patriotic narrative, as Magyar has demonstrated.

However, I am not suggesting that the economy is always decisive. In some contexts it matters, but not in all. For example, in Poland, GDP grew significantly during the PiS period, yet PiS was still voted out of office. This indicates that economic performance alone is not sufficient. Still, when combined with widespread corruption and public dissatisfaction, economic issues can provide a strong foundation for an inclusive and resonant counter-narrative.

Narratives Must Reinforce Community and Democratic Norms

If both ethno-national and pluralist identity claims can become grounds for democratic trade-offs, how should scholars distinguish between identity politics that strengthens liberal democracy and identity politics that weakens democratic resilience?

Dr. Filip Milacic: For me, the key issue is context. It also depends on whether identity politics is inclusive toward a large majority of citizens or whether it is exclusionary. We can, more or less, clearly distinguish between narratives that are inclusive and those that are exclusionary.

The second criterion is the purpose of these narratives. For authoritarian incumbents, the purpose is to justify attacks on democracy; such narratives serve as a cover for power grabs and as a means of legitimizing violations of democratic norms and principles. For pro-democratic opposition actors, the purpose is the opposite. Their narratives are not only aimed at defeating the authoritarian incumbent but also at strengthening democracy, reinforcing the political community, and protecting the elements of democracy that are under attack.

Politics Is a Battle of Narratives

Collage by Marek Uliasz / Dreamstime.

And finally, Dr. Milacic, looking across Hungary, Poland, Israel, Serbia, Austria, Turkey, and the United States, what does democratic resilience require today: stronger institutions, better opposition strategy, more effective patriotic counternarratives, or a deeper rethinking of liberal democracy’s relationship to nationhood?

Dr. Filip Milacic: I would say all of the above. The struggle for democracy is fought on all of these fronts. However, if I may add, the focus has primarily been on the institutional dimension. This is understandable, as democratic backsliding involves the capture, weakening, or dismantling of institutions.

At the same time, the fight for democracy is also fought through words. We should therefore pay much greater attention to the narrative level. This is precisely what I try to do in my research: to explore how democracy can be defended through narratives. It is not only about electoral mobilization; it is also about strengthening democracy by showing people why it matters and why it is important in an emotionally compelling way. For a narrative to succeed, it must resonate emotionally.

I would also acknowledge that the other side—autocrats—is often more successful in this regard than democratic opposition actors. This is because democratic actors tend to focus primarily on output, on what democracy delivers. I am not suggesting that this is unimportant, but it is not sufficient. We also need to engage with authoritarian-leaning actors at the level of narratives. After all, politics is fundamentally a battle of narratives.

Professor Craig Calhoun.

Ten Years on with Brexit / Prof. Calhoun: Brexit Reveals Regret, Weakened Influence, and Intensified Backsliding

In this ECPS interview, Professor Craig Calhoun, Professor of Social Sciences at Arizona State University, revisits Brexit a decade after the 2016 referendum, arguing that it has revealed “regret, weakened influence, and intensified backsliding.” While Brexit was presented as a remedy for national decline, Professor Calhoun notes that “there is now a degree of regret,” as its economic costs—shrinking growth, declining investment, and reduced productivity—have become clearer. Yet his analysis moves beyond economics, situating Brexit within deeper struggles over English identity, regional inequality, democratic legitimacy, and geopolitical decline. He argues that Brexit has acted as a “catalytic event,” intensifying existing democratic malaise while exposing Britain’s unresolved tensions over belonging, representation, and national purpose in an increasingly unstable global order.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

A decade after the 2016 referendum, Brexit remains a defining fault line in British politics, shaping not only institutional trajectories but also the deeper contours of political identity, democratic legitimacy, and geopolitical orientation. In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Craig Calhoun, Professor of Social Sciences, Arizona State University, offers a striking reassessment of Brexit’s long-term implications, foregrounding a central paradox captured in the headline insight: “Brexit reveals regret, weakened influence, and intensified backsliding.” While the referendum was initially framed as a corrective to perceived national decline, Professor Calhoun underscores that “there is now a degree of regret,” as its economic consequences—“shrinkage of the economy, loss of investment and productivity”—have become increasingly apparent.

Yet Brexit’s significance extends beyond material outcomes. Professor Calhoun situates it within a broader transformation of democratic politics, arguing that it has functioned not merely as an event but as an accelerant: “Brexit has functioned as a catalytic event… it has made things worse and intensified democratic backsliding.” In this respect, the UK’s trajectory reflects a wider pattern across Western democracies, where populist mobilization intersects with declining institutional trust and growing dissatisfaction with representation. Although Britain retains relatively robust institutional foundations, he notes a discernible erosion, with the country becoming “less democratic… to a noticeable degree.”

A key contribution of Professor Calhoun’s analysis lies in his emphasis on the persistence of underlying structural and cultural drivers. Far from resolving political tensions, Brexit has entrenched them. “Many of the same factors are still in place,” he observes, pointing to regional inequality, anxieties over English identity, and unresolved questions regarding immigration and belonging. These dynamics have not only sustained polarization but have also contributed to a fragmented party system and a growing perception that “organized politics does not express the concerns that ordinary people have in their lives.”

At the same time, Brexit has come to symbolize a broader narrative of national and geopolitical decline. As Professor Calhoun notes, “the UK appears less powerful, less economically prosperous, and less influential globally,” a perception that has become more visible in the post-2016 period. Crucially, while the Leave campaign acknowledged decline, it promised reversal—a promise that, in his words, “has not occurred.” This disjuncture between expectation and outcome has reinforced both disillusionment and the continued appeal of populist narratives centered on “the people” rather than systemic or institutional considerations.

By placing Brexit at the intersection of populism, nationalism, and democratic transformation, Professor Calhoun’s reflections illuminate the enduring reconfiguration of political subjectivity in contemporary democracies. His analysis suggests that Brexit is not an isolated case but part of a wider shift toward more unstable, contested, and fragmented political orders—where regret, polarization, and uncertainty coexist with persistent demands for recognition, representation, and belonging.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Craig Calhoun, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Britain Remains Stuck on Brexit’s Cultural Divisions

A Brexit Day ‘Independence’ parade was held at Whitehall and on Parliament Square in London to celebrate the UK leaving the European Union on January 31, 2020.

Professor Calhoun, welcome. In your early interpretation of Brexit as “a mutiny against the cosmopolitan elite,” how should we reassess that diagnosis a decade on, particularly in light of the persistence of identity-based polarization and the consolidation of Brexit as a durable axis of political subjectivity rather than a transient electoral cleavage?

Professor Craig Calhoun: Many of the same factors are still in place: regional inequalities and disparities in Britain; anxieties about English identity—often more than British identity—and about White racial identity, though not always openly expressed; and concerns about the place of immigrants and minorities in the country. These factors help explain the Brexit vote and why it was possible to mobilize people for this decision.

What has changed? I think there is now a degree of regret, as it has become apparent that the decision has been economically counterproductive. It has contributed to the shrinkage of the economy, loss of investment and productivity, and even declines in household income and trade. So, there are clear material consequences.

In terms of cultural politics, however, Britain remains stuck on many of the same issues. Efforts to reposition politics after the Brexit vote included an attempt to reassert class in Labour Party politics during the Corbyn years, followed by a reaction against that, such that the Labour Party now can hardly mention it.

More broadly, British politics has become increasingly fragmented. The current government came in with a large majority but has been unable or unwilling to take bold action, making it a weak government despite its numbers.

At the same time, the Conservative Party has been weakened by the rise of Reform UK and defections. There has been some growth in the Liberal Democrats, but not enough to offset this. Britain once appeared closer to a two-party system; now it is more complex, with significant intra-party conflicts.

As a result, fewer people feel that organized politics reflects their concerns. Across the political spectrum, there is widespread frustration that politics in Westminster does not address the everyday issues people face—whether healthcare, the cost of living, immigration, or, for some, race and anxieties about Islam. 

These concerns continue to mobilize people but lack clear expression within party politics, generating ongoing tensions. This dynamic was central to Brexit itself, which represented a move outside the party system. David Cameron allowed the referendum but did not support the outcome, campaigned ineffectively, and assumed it would placate public discontent. It did not. The discontents persist, as do the cultural divisions that drive them. In that sense, Britain remains, in many ways, stuck.

Brexit Reasserted Majority English Identity

To what extent has Brexit transformed political preference into what might be theorized as a “thick” identity—embedding itself in everyday social belonging and moral worldviews in ways analogous to the forms of nationalism you describe as constitutive of modern political communities?

Professor Craig Calhoun: I would say there is a tendency in that direction, but so far it has not fully succeeded. One complication is that strong nationalism, or ethno-nationalism, in this context is English rather than British. Brexit reflected a shift away from foregrounding British identity as inherently multinational—Scots, Irish, Welsh, as well as English—toward a reassertion of a majority English identity.

This kind of majoritarianism is common across countries. Nationalist politics that constitute political communities are rarely without an element of majority identity, which often excludes certain minorities from its conception of the nation. It is never as simple as claiming that everyone is fully united by a single vision. That vision must be reflected in everyday life in multiple ways, which is why it develops over time. At the same time, it is always partly organized around projects of power or domination.

For example, one would not say that Turkish political subjectivity is completely unified by the idea of Turkish identity. It is strong in majoritarian terms, but there are significant minorities, and even within the majority there are differing interpretations of what that identity means. The same is true in Britain, and particularly in England, though the English focus further complicates the situation.

Over a fairly long period, Britain made significant progress in expanding opportunities for minorities to succeed—to attend university, gain employment, and participate in the economy. At the same time, however, there are large concentrations of minority populations, particularly Muslim communities, in specific geographic areas. This makes them highly visible and can generate dynamics of relatively closed communities.

Because populations are not evenly distributed across the country, the development of a unifying democratic nationalism is impeded. These “islands” of difference are reinforced by the dominance of London and a few other metropolitan areas. Cities such as London, and to some extent Manchester, offer more opportunities, enabling people—including minorities—to improve their socioeconomic position.

These relatively cosmopolitan centers tend to favor undoing Brexit, renewing solidarity with Europe, or embracing a more global identity, rather than English nationalism. English nationalism is relatively weak in London but stronger in other regions, and this divide is reinforced by economic disparities. Growth is concentrated in cities rather than in the countryside, which fuels resentment in areas that feel left behind.

This does not necessarily imply poverty. Much of the shift from the Conservative Party to Reform UK involves suburban populations who feel their status and prospects are declining. They are not poor, but they no longer see themselves or their children as future leaders or beneficiaries to the same extent.

As a result, there is a continuing, if partial, alliance between disaffected working-class populations and disaffected suburbanites in various parts of the country. Nigel Farage and Reform UK have been quite effective in building a kind of semi-party that mobilizes these groups through shared fears and resentments, but without offering a clear positive program.

Leave and Remain Became Struggles Over National Identity

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

Does the enduring entrenchment of “Leave” and “Remain” identities empirically reinforce your argument that nationalism—and adjacent identity formations—are not residual cultural artifacts but actively produced through ongoing political contestation and discursive construction?

Professor Craig Calhoun: Absolutely. The period leading up to Brexit, and even more so the period since the referendum, has been heavily shaped by efforts to forge a stronger sense of national identity. This includes self-declared nationalists—more often English than British—but also those who are concerned about national identity without adopting that label. As a result, the question of who the British people are has become a central political struggle, reinforced not only by the Leave–Remain divide but also by the persistence of the underlying issues that produced it.

Recent polling suggests that around 58 percent of Britons would now vote Remain if given the chance again, indicating that opinions have shifted. This change is largely driven by a growing recognition that people were misled about the material consequences of Brexit. The Leave campaign promised substantial economic benefits—recovering funds sent to Europe, compensating for lost trade through the Commonwealth—but these claims have not been borne out.

The symbolic and cultural dimensions, however, are different. While there is now greater clarity about the material effects of Brexit, identity-related frustrations remain strong for many. Yet political debate has focused primarily on economic conditions, often neglecting the importance of identity and cultural concerns.

It is also important to recognize that these dynamics are not confined to one side. In Scotland, for example, identity politics often take a more cosmopolitan, pro-European form in contrast to English nationalism. Identitarian concerns, therefore, exist across the divide.

At the same time, these issues have not been fully engaged in public debate. For many Britons, they remain somewhat uncomfortable or even taboo. This has enabled right-wing populists to address them more openly than actors on the left. During the Corbyn era, there was greater space for what might be called left-wing populism, but this was followed by a reassertion of control within the Labour Party that marginalized those voices.

For many working-class and less well-off Britons, this shift was experienced as exclusion, reinforcing the perception that urban professional elites dominate Labour and fail to represent their concerns. While the removal of Corbyn increased internal cohesion within the party, it also deepened disaffection among segments of the working class.

These groups engage in identity politics as well. They were not uniformly anti-European a decade ago, nor are they now. The key issue is which political actors provide them with a platform to express concerns that are not merely abstract but tied to lived experiences and ways of life.

Such concerns often originate locally rather than in explicitly national or European debates. For instance, the closure of a local pub due to regulatory or economic changes may be experienced as a loss of community and identity. These grievances can later be framed in nationalist terms, but they typically begin as local concerns.

Frustration intensifies when national political debates appear divided between an urban, metropolitan elite—perceived as disconnected from local realities—and a right-wing populist camp that becomes the primary voice engaging directly with those communities.

Polarization Now Shapes How People Understand Reality

In light of your work on the “degenerations of democracy,” how should we interpret Brexit-era polarization as a case of hyper-partisanship in which epistemic disagreement increasingly shades into ontological division, with opponents cast not merely as adversaries but as existential threats?

Professor Craig Calhoun: You raise three important points, and I agree with all of them. Let me separate them slightly differently, though, and raise a complication about one. I think Britain is highly polarized. The breakdown of the party system means that this polarization is not merely partisan in the traditional sense of competition between major political parties. There are sharp differences in views about how the world works, how things are going, and what is desirable, but these divisions often follow lines such as metropolitan versus non-metropolitan, rather than aligning neatly with party affiliation.

Second, you rightly emphasize the epistemic dimension. People’s basic understandings of how society works—what they take to be facts and valid knowledge—are increasingly contested. The widely discussed breakdown in trust is not simply about attitudes toward politicians; it concerns whether people believe that mainstream media, social institutions, and educational systems provide an accurate account of reality. Many do not, and they question dominant claims about what is true.

This was a major factor in Brexit. Many people accepted statements—often misleading or plainly false—about issues such as the financial relationship between Britain and the EU. Although most academics and journalists demonstrated that these claims were incorrect, this did not persuade a large portion of the electorate. Instead, such corrections were often dismissed as the opinions of pro-European elites, lacking any special epistemic authority. Being an economist or political scientist no longer confers greater credibility than figures such as Nigel Farage.

The erosion of epistemic authority is real. This is not to suggest that experts are always right, but rather that there once existed a broader social consensus about what counts as knowledge and how it should be verified. Today, when individuals encounter claims, the growing tendency is to “do their own research,” not by consulting established media or academic sources, but by browsing a handful of websites or following social media influencers. In this environment, information that is not systematically verified often prevails over more reliable forms of knowledge. This is not unique to Britain; it reflects a broader global trend.

What we often describe as the rise of populism is partly driven by the discrediting of elite claims to knowledge. This, however, raises an immediate question: where can people turn for alternative perspectives that reflect popular concerns while remaining epistemically sound? There is a clear shortage of institutions capable of fulfilling that role. Rather than the emergence of a strong new press, we have seen a proliferation of influencers.

There is, of course, a significant right-wing press, but it is not uniformly populist. It includes some who support more populist positions, alongside others who define themselves as traditional conservatives. This produces a somewhat fragmented and ambiguous informational landscape.

Finally, as you note, this is also the terrain on which political subjectivity is formed. This is not simply about electoral choices; it shapes how individuals understand who they are. Part of the process of polarization involves the development of durable identities. These are not limited to “Leave” and “Remain,” but encompass broader frameworks through which people interpret themselves, their fellow citizens, and what counts as credible knowledge about the world.

To reiterate, the extent to which established mainstream sources have been discredited among large segments of the population is significant. This includes major parts of the media, academia, and political parties. In the past, people tended to trust institutions such as party research offices or political leaders to provide reliable information. That trust has diminished. Many now assume they are receiving partisan messaging from politicians seeking to remain in power, fostering distrust not only toward opponents but also toward those they once supported.

Britain Still Has Institutions, But Democratic Norms Are Eroding

Party leader Nigel Farage speaks during the Brexit Party general election tour event at Little Mill village hall near Pontypool, Monmouthshire, Wales on November 8 2019.

The continued mobilization of Brexit sentiment by actors such as Nigel Farage and the electoral positioning of Reform UK suggest that populism remains a potent force in British politics. Do these developments represent a stabilization of populism within democratic competition, or do they exemplify the longer-term erosion of liberal-democratic norms you associate with populist mobilization?

Professor Craig Calhoun: I think there is a longer-term destabilization of democratic norms. I would hasten to add, however, that norms are not very strong if they exist only as free-floating beliefs rather than being embedded in institutional practices. The good news is that Britain still has relatively strong institutions. The courts, by and large, continue to function with a reasonable degree of independence from politics and with a serious grounding in legal reasoning and precedent.

Although it has suffered some decline, the National Health Service remains an institution to be valued and rebuilt. More broadly, Britain retains institutional foundations that help sustain the norms of a functioning democratic society.

That said, there has been erosion and decline. There are real problems, even if substantial institutional strength remains. I should also note a conceptual concern regarding how populism is often used. It is sometimes treated as a coherent body of thought, analogous to leftism or rightism, socialism or capitalism. I do not think this is accurate. Populism can appear across different points on the political spectrum because it is better understood as a style of mobilization centered on defining “the people” in opposition to elites.

In that sense, one can have both left- and right-wing populism. For example, the Corbyn campaigns represented a more populist alternative to the Starmer approach, even if this is not always recognized. Populism, in this view, prioritizes “the people” over systems—over the economy, the state, or other institutional frameworks—and centers politics on how ordinary people understand their lives and interests.

This helps explain why, during the Brexit debate, few people abandoned a Leave position when it was argued that Brexit would harm the City of London. The response was not to contest the economic analysis but to reject its relevance. Many simply did not care about the City of London; they cared about the English people. While economic consequences may shape material conditions over time, the core populist impulse remains focused on the people rather than on systemic or elite concerns.

Brexit Intensified Britain’s Democratic Backsliding

Would you characterize Brexit primarily as a symptom of deeper democratic malaise—rooted in declining perceptions of citizen efficacy, institutional trust, and representational legitimacy—or as a catalytic event that has itself intensified democratic backsliding in the UK?

Professor Craig Calhoun: I would say the former, though there is also an element of the latter. Brexit has functioned as a catalytic event: it has exacerbated existing problems and intensified democratic backsliding. In some respects, Britain has become less democratic—not to the same extent as the United States, but to a noticeable degree. Other developments, such as the pandemic, have also contributed to this trajectory.

That said, the core issue lies in what Brexit expressed: a prior deterioration in the conditions for democratic solidarity, which the 2016 vote both revealed and reinforced. This includes the factors you mentioned, but it also extends to material foundations and lived conditions. When I refer to metropolitan and non-metropolitan Britain, I use it as shorthand to highlight that people do not simply hold different views; they live under very different material circumstances that shape their priorities and values.

For many living outside major urban centers, aggregate indicators such as gross national product do not meaningfully reflect their experience of prosperity. Much of economic growth is concentrated in London, Manchester, and other large cities, with limited diffusion into local communities. This is not merely an abstract disagreement over economic metrics; it reflects everyday realities. These indicators feel distant from lived experience for material reasons, not simply due to informational deficits.

People’s outlooks are shaped by conditions in their immediate environments—the state of local labor markets, opportunities for younger generations, and access to housing. The housing crisis is particularly illustrative. Rising unaffordability has repeatedly influenced British politics and has eroded what was once a relatively stable upper working-class and middle-class position, weakening the social center.

In the 1970s, Margaret Thatcher promoted homeownership as a means of fostering a society of stakeholders, premised on the idea that property ownership would encourage long-term social commitment. Whatever one makes of that vision, subsequent developments have altered the landscape. After a period of relative accessibility, housing has become increasingly unaffordable due to insufficient supply, higher interest rates, regulatory constraints, and the geographic mismatch between affordable housing and employment centers. These material conditions play a central role in shaping how people interpret what might otherwise appear as abstract or theoretical propositions.

Brexit Made Britain’s Decline More Visible

How does Brexit illuminate the reconfiguration of political identity in ethnonational terms—what you have described as the contemporary shift toward the construction of “majority ethnicities” as politically salient categories?

Professor Craig Calhoun: There are two parts to this. In general, the rise of majoritarian identity politics—whether in Germany, France, England, or elsewhere—is a significant part of what is happening. It is shaping a new right wing that already has considerable political influence and may gain even more, including in the United States.

In framing it this way, I want to emphasize that it is not simply a matter of majorities uniformly embracing such identities. Rather, it involves politically mobilized majoritarian activism carried out in the name of the majority. Actors such as Reform in the UK are not themselves representative of the majority of the population—certainly not of all those who might be categorized as part of the English majority—but they claim to speak for it and mobilize around that claim. This form of mobilization has been growing in importance for decades.

The second part of the story, more specific to the UK, is that the period after Brexit coincides with a perception of decline. The UK appears less powerful, less economically prosperous, and less influential globally. One can debate whether this decline predates Brexit, but it has become more visible since 2016. The Leave campaign itself acknowledged a sense of decline but argued that Brexit would reverse it. That reversal has not occurred.

For many people who are not at the center of political or economic debates, Brexit has come to symbolize this trajectory of decline. At the same time, Europe more broadly is also experiencing challenges and, in some respects, decline. Brexit affected both the UK and the European Union, and the EU has faced internal divisions, including over migration, the war in Ukraine, energy policy, and rearmament.

More broadly, both the UK and Europe are grappling with shifting global power dynamics. The rise of China and India, increasing economic integration across Asia, and a more assertive Russia have all altered the geopolitical landscape. At the same time, the United States has become a less predictable partner, pursuing policies that have at times destabilized international relations and strained alliances.

These geopolitical shifts coincide with economic uncertainty. There is little clarity that current economic transitions will lead to improved outcomes. Even countries like Germany face employment challenges. The long-term decline of skilled manufacturing work continues, and its replacements have not fully materialized. Emerging technologies, including AI, may further intensify these pressures. As a result, personal economic insecurity is increasingly linked to a broader perception that one’s country—and the wider region—is in relative decline compared to rising global powers. 

Brexit Encourages a Dangerous National Myopia

Brexit.
Photo: Dreamstime.

In the current geopolitical context, do you see any viable synthesis between nationalism and cosmopolitanism capable of sustaining the liberal international order, or are we witnessing their progressive decoupling under the pressures of populism and sovereigntism?

Professor Craig Calhoun: We are witnessing a breakdown of the liberal international order. Whether it can be renewed remains an open question. It is not impossible, but what we have seen is a continued erosion in the context of the war in Ukraine, energy politics, conflicts in the Middle East, and related developments.

One feature of the Brexit debates—both in 2016 and in the years since—is that they have reduced attention to the broader ways in which global changes are affecting Britain. If everything is framed in terms of Leave versus Remain, then less attention is paid to ongoing conflicts in the Middle East or to the structural causes of migration. For example, migration is often discussed as simply a matter of people arriving, rather than as the consequence of specific events such as the war in Syria, which displaced large populations.

In this sense, the framing of Brexit encourages a kind of national myopia. A similar pattern can be observed in the United States, where political debates were long focused on internal issues even as international dynamics were shifting significantly. This makes it more difficult to address fundamental questions about what would make a country secure, prosperous, or resilient in a changing global context.

This raises the question of whether the renewal of the liberal international order is either feasible or desirable. It may be possible to reconstruct elements of it, but it could also take a different form. Some argue for protecting the West as a privileged space, accepting reduced global influence while maintaining internal stability. Others point to alternative visions of world order, including those centered on China, which emphasize order rather than liberal norms.

It is not clear that the breakdown of the liberal international order necessarily implies the absence of order altogether. It could lead to a transition toward a new multilateral arrangement or even to a form of hegemonic order. At the same time, there remains the risk of continued fragmentation, with more frequent and proximate conflicts.

These dynamics also affect national self-understandings. In Britain, for instance, there has long been a perception of maritime strength, encapsulated in the idea that “Britannia rules the waves.” The postwar decline of empire already challenged this view, but more recent events have further exposed limitations in military capacity. Such realizations can undermine confidence and reinforce a sense of vulnerability.

This, in turn, raises difficult questions about how national success should be understood in the post-Brexit context. If expectations of renewed strength and autonomy are not matched by material capabilities, the tension between nationalist aspirations and geopolitical realities becomes increasingly apparent.

Populism, Nationalism, and War Politics Are Converging

Finally, looking beyond the British case, do you see Brexit—and the continued resonance of figures like Farage—as indicative of a broader transformation across Western democracies, where populism, nationalism, and democratic dissatisfaction are converging into new, potentially unstable political equilibria?

Professor Craig Calhoun: I think they may not be equilibria. So, instability, yes. There is a very widespread shift away from more or less conventional left-right party politics, and in particular from the dominance of the liberal center, into an unstable era of problematic domestic politics, with parties themselves becoming unstable, new parties emerging, and increasing influence of what is commonly called the populist right, but also of non-populist right-wing currents. Not all of the right wing is automatically populist. There are a variety of extreme right-wing ethno-nationalist movements, particularly on the European continent and in the United States, that are not clearly populist. Some of these operate within frameworks that call for a return to a kind of right-wing, quasi-medieval vision of Europe.

There is also a rise of orthodoxy, not only in regions traditionally associated with it, such as Russia or Greece, but also in the West, where some right-wing thinkers and voices have converted to Orthodoxy. Some have even relocated to other countries and view Orthodoxy as a framework for rethinking the future. Others, like Rod Dreher, have advocated what he calls the “Benedict Option,” a return to forms of quasi-monastic community life. My point is simply that there are multiple kinds of emerging right-wing formations. They vary in how populist they are: some are clearly populist, while others are more explicitly elitist, focused on preserving elite authority.

There has not yet been a corresponding revitalization of left-wing thought. There are strong thinkers on the left, and such a renewal may come, but for now the intellectual and political dynamism appears more pronounced on the right. This development dovetails with broader shifts in international politics and geopolitics. Policies such as increasing tariffs and dismantling trade agreements are nationalist in one sense but are often driven by domestic political concerns that spill over into international relations.

At the same time, the spread of wars and aggressive international actions—sometimes pursued for their own sake, or because they help leaders remain in power—adds another layer of instability. In certain respects, figures like Putin and Netanyahu are in similar positions, where being at war helps sustain their political authority. This kind of dynamic is domestically rooted in nationalist configurations but poses wider global risks.

These actors are not identical to figures like Farage, but they are part of a broader global rise of various right-wing movements, some of which are primarily oriented toward power, while others are more explicitly concerned with the moral state of society. Notably, many of these pro-military, assertive right-wing movements are also strongly masculinist. They express concerns about declining birth rates, oppose expanded roles for women in public life, and often adopt homophobic positions. These stances reflect anxieties rooted in personal and social life within their respective societies, yet they are increasingly linked to broader geopolitical projects.

In that sense, questions that may seem unrelated—such as the connection between foreign policy actions and attitudes toward sexuality—are tied together through a shared emphasis on strength, both in individual, gendered terms and in national terms.

Professor Adam Przeworski.

Professor Przeworski: There Is No Worldwide Crisis of Democracy

In this interview, Professor Adam Przeworski, Emeritus Professor of Politics at New York University, challenges dominant narratives of a global democratic crisis. Against widespread claims of democratic recession and authoritarian resurgence, he argues: “I do not believe there is a worldwide crisis of democracy.” For Professor Przeworski, democracy remains best understood as a mechanism for processing conflict through elections rather than as a system that resolves all social, economic, or moral disagreements. While he acknowledges unprecedented developments—party-system instability, polarization, and the rise of new right-wing parties—he cautions against conflating these shifts with systemic collapse. His analysis highlights democracy’s self-preserving capacity, insisting that while “small transgressions may be tolerated,” major violations of democratic rules eventually encounter resistance.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In an era increasingly defined by claims of democratic recession, authoritarian resurgence, and the global diffusion of populist politics, few voices carry the analytical weight and empirical authority of Professor Adam Przeworski, Emeritus Professor of Politics at New York University (NYU). A foundational figure in democratic theory, Professor Przeworski has long conceptualized democracy not as a teleological endpoint, but as a contingent institutional arrangement grounded in electoral competition and the management of conflict. His minimalist definition—“a system in which governments can be selected and removed through elections”—offers a parsimonious yet powerful framework for evaluating both democratic resilience and vulnerability. In this interview, conducted against the backdrop of intensifying scholarly and public concern about democratic backsliding, Professor Przeworski advances a deliberately counterintuitive claim: “I do not believe there is a worldwide crisis of democracy.”

This assertion stands in sharp contrast to dominant narratives, including those informed by datasets such as V-Dem, which suggest a global shift toward autocratization. Yet Professor Przeworski challenges both the empirical basis and the interpretive framing of such claims. “What does it really mean to say that a majority of the world’s population lives under authoritarian governments?” he asks, expressing skepticism toward measurement strategies that, in his view, risk overstating crisis dynamics. Instead, he emphasizes a more structural and historically grounded perspective: “There are more democratic regimes—more democratic countries—in the world today than ever before.” For Professor Przeworski, the proliferation of democratic regimes, even amid evident tensions, complicates the narrative of systemic collapse.

At the core of his argument lies a reconceptualization of democratic instability. While acknowledging “recent changes that are indeed unprecedented—such as the weakening of political parties, the instability of party systems, and the emergence of new parties, particularly on the political right,” he resists interpreting these developments as evidence of a generalized breakdown. Rather, they reflect shifting configurations within democratic systems that have always been characterized by conflict, contestation, and dissatisfaction. Indeed, as he notes, “as much as half of the population is always dissatisfied with what democracy produces,” a condition intrinsic to competitive politics rather than indicative of systemic failure.

Crucially, Professor Przeworski situates contemporary democratic challenges within a broader theory of political conflict and institutional equilibrium. Democracy endures not because it resolves all conflicts, but because it provides a mechanism—elections—through which they can be processed and temporarily settled. Even processes of democratic erosion, he suggests, remain bounded by this logic. While incumbents may attempt to “undermine democracy without abolishing elections,” such strategies are neither universally successful nor irreversible. On the contrary, recent electoral developments in countries such as Poland and Brazil illustrate democracy’s capacity for self-correction. “Attempts to usurp power through various means eventually encounter resistance,” he observes, emphasizing that “small transgressions may be tolerated, but major violations of democratic rules are not.”

This perspective invites a more nuanced understanding of both populism and authoritarianism. Rather than external threats to democracy, they emerge as endogenous features of political competition under conditions of inequality, polarization, and institutional strain. At the same time, Professor Przeworski underscores the enduring appeal of democratic choice itself. “The very possibility of choosing who governs us,” he argues, “is an extraordinarily strong value to which people adhere.”

By challenging prevailing assumptions about democratic decline, this interview offers a sobering yet cautiously optimistic account of contemporary politics. It suggests that while liberal democracy faces significant pressures, its foundational mechanisms—and the normative commitments that sustain them—remain more resilient than often assumed.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Adam Przeworski, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Democracy as Conflict Management

Israelis protest in Tel Aviv against Netanyahu’s Judicial Coup in Israel. Photo: Avivi Aharon.

Professor Przeworski, welcome. Your minimalist conception defines democracy as a system in which governments can be selected and removed through elections. In light of contemporary backsliding, does this procedural definition remain analytically sufficient, or do recent developments compel us to integrate more substantive criteria concerning rights, accountability, and the rule of law?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I think that to understand my view of democracy—the minimalist view of democracy—one has to start with the observation that, in every country, at every time, there is conflict. These conflicts are often normative; that is, people expect democracy to implement certain values, such as those you mentioned. There are also economic conflicts—indeed, most conflicts are economic—dealing with the distribution of income, work, and so on. Sometimes they are purely symbolic. I often cite the example of a government in the Weimar Republic that fell because it changed the colors of the national flag. But the key point is that there was conflict.

The essence of the minimalist conception is that we must find ways to manage these conflicts—ways to resolve them, at least temporarily. After all, different people expect different things from democracy: some emphasize freedom, others equality. So how do we resolve these conflicts? This is where my argument comes in. I contend that we resolve them through elections. Whatever else people expect from democracy, we must have a mechanism through which conflicts are processed and resolved.

No Generalized Crisis of Democracy

You distinguish democracy as a mechanism for processing conflict from democracy as a normative ideal. To what extent has the growing expectation that democracy should deliver not only representation, but also economic equality and moral outcomes contributed to its current crisis of legitimacy?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I am not sure that this represents something new. As long as democracy has existed—in some countries for 200 years, and in at least 13 countries for 100 consecutive years—there have been such divergences. We have always disagreed about what we should expect of democracy, and which values it ought to implement. There is nothing new about that.

From this perspective, some people—and perhaps, in many cases, as much as half of the population—are always dissatisfied with what democracy produces. From time to time, they express this dissatisfaction by voting incumbent governments out. That is the instrument available to them, and that is how the system works.

For this reason, I do not think there is something like a generalized crisis of democracy. That said, there are recent changes that are indeed unprecedented—such as the weakening of political parties, the instability of party systems, and the emergence of new parties, particularly on the political right. These are significant developments, and they should prompt concern. But I would not characterize them as evidence of a new, generalized crisis of democracy. As I said at the outset, I do not believe such a generalized crisis exists.

The US as the Exception

Your work emphasizes that democracy endures when the stakes of losing power are not existential. How should we interpret rising inequality, identity polarization, and winner-takes-all political competition in this regard—do they structurally raise the cost of electoral defeat beyond sustainable thresholds?

Professor Adam Przeworski: The stakes in elections have indeed increased in recent years. At the same time, however, I do not see a generalized threat to democracy. There is, of course, an elephant in the room: the United States. In the United States, democracy is truly in danger. But if we consider similar countries—economically highly developed societies with comparable, perhaps somewhat lower, levels of inequality, significant political polarization, and long democratic traditions—the picture looks different.

In these countries, even when right-wing parties, including those with fascist roots, come to power—at least as members of governing coalitions—they do not necessarily threaten democracy. What strikes me is that, if you look at Italy, for example, where a party with explicit fascist roots is governing, or Austria or Sweden, where such parties have been part of coalitions, they still adhere to democratic values. They may advance unprecedented programs—programs that many of us, including myself, may strongly dislike—but they do not, in themselves, threaten democracy. In that sense, the threat to democracy appears to be largely exceptional to the United States.

Democracy Under Formal Trappings

Following the arrest of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, protests erupted across numerous cities in Turkey. Citizens took to the streets to voice their opposition to the decision and express growing discontent.
Photo: Dreamstime.

You have argued that contemporary democratic breakdowns occur primarily through elected incumbents. Does this shift from coups to endogenous erosion indicate that the institutional architecture of modern democracies has become intrinsically vulnerable to strategic capture?

Professor Adam Przeworski: That is an extremely controversial topic, but the answer is probably yes. When you look at the data, military coups have almost completely disappeared in the 21st century. Until around the year 2000, democracies were typically destroyed in a visible way—through military takeovers and coups. Since then, the only democracy that has experienced a coup is Thailand. While there have been many coups in Africa, particularly in North Africa, they have not been directed against democratic regimes. This suggests a new pattern.

It is likely new because some governments have learned that they can remain in power while preserving the formal trappings of democracy—by subordinating institutions other than the executive, controlling the media and economic resources, and employing a degree of repression, as in Turkey. In other words, they have learned to operate under the guise of democracy while using a range of instruments to entrench their rule.

At the same time, these governments do lose elections. They lost an election in Poland, and more recently in Hungary, contrary to many expectations and the more pessimistic forecasts of some analysts. This indicates that, while incumbents have developed strategies to gradually undermine democracy without abolishing elections or fully delegitimizing the opposition, the process is neither complete nor irreversible. For that reason, I would not characterize this as a universal phenomenon, and it remains unclear how durable it will be.

The Dilemma of Democratic Resistance

Within your strategic framework, incumbents choose whether to uphold or subvert electoral competition. How should we conceptualize “stealth authoritarianism,” where legalistic and incremental institutional changes cumulatively undermine democracy without triggering immediate resistance?

Professor Adam Przeworski: Let me begin with the question of immediate resistance. These governments win elections—Erdoğan won elections; Chávez and then Maduro won elections; Orbán won elections; and in Poland, the right-wing party won elections. They come to power on a program, and then the opposition faces a difficult choice. The opposition may see that these governments threaten democracy but opposing them can itself appear undemocratic. After all, these leaders have just won an election. Taking to the streets to say, “No, these people cannot govern,” risks being perceived as an anti-democratic act.

At some point, however, it may become too late. If these governments succeed in consolidating their partisan advantage—as in Venezuela or Turkey—then by the time the opposition decides that it can no longer tolerate the situation because democracy is being undermined, incumbents may already be too strong. They may be able to repress their opponents or otherwise entrench themselves in power. So, strategically, this is a very difficult situation. The opposition must be extremely careful about what to oppose and when to oppose it.

Public Tolerance and Democratic Erosion

Serbia protest.
Serbian students and citizens protest against government corruption following the Novi Sad railway station accident, at Slavija Square in Belgrade, Serbia, on December 22, 2024. Photo: Mirko Kuzmanovic / Dreamstime.

You suggest that democratic vulnerability can arise both from highly popular incumbents through populism and from deeply unpopular ones through polarization. How should we interpret cases where these dynamics converge, producing simultaneously mobilized support and entrenched opposition?

Professor Adam Przeworski: The way I think about it is that governments which, in fact, threaten democracy sometimes win elections. We now have extensive evidence, originally due to Professor Milan Svolik at Yale, showing that people are willing to tolerate certain violations of democratic norms and rules in exchange for substantive outcomes they value. As Svolik and Matthew H. Graham demonstrate in a well-known article, the number of unconditional democrats—that is, people who would not tolerate any violation of democratic norms for any substantive outcome—is very small in the United States. If I recall correctly, they estimate it at around 6 percent.

At the same time, evidence from Carlos Boix and his collaborators shows that when the question is framed more broadly—whether people are willing to give up democracy altogether—the answer is strongly negative. In other words, people may tolerate some transgressions, but not a complete abandonment of democracy. This creates a particular dynamic in processes of democratic backsliding. People may accept certain violations, but when governments go too far, they react—they protest, object, and sometimes vote incumbents out of office, as seen in Hungary and Poland.

In this sense, governments sometimes backslide because they can—because such actions are tolerated. At other times, however, they may backslide defensively, because failing to do so could risk electoral defeat. Thus, there are two distinct forms of backsliding: one supported by public tolerance, and another that unfolds in tension with public opinion.

Delegation, Trust, and Anti-Democratic Populism

Populist leaders frequently claim to embody a unified “people” against institutional constraints. In your analytical framework, is populism best understood as a pathology of democratic representation, or as an endogenous feature of electoral competition under conditions of high stakes and limited trust?

Professor Adam Przeworski: This is, again, a theme that is inherent in democracy. We do not like to be ruled. There is always a government that tells us what we can do and, very often, what we cannot do—and we do not like it. There have always been movements demanding a greater voice for the people in governance. As you know, there are many proposals aimed at increasing the role of voters in governing—various kinds of assemblies, referendums, participatory budgeting, and so on. Numerous reforms have sought to expand the role of citizens in their governments.

At the same time, there is a form of right-wing or anti-democratic populism in which people are willing to delegate governance to a leader, as long as that leader governs well. In such cases, people say, “We will place our trust in a government that does what we want.” Both of these tendencies can be dangerous to democracy.

Populism Is Inherent in Democracy

You have argued that citizens may knowingly tolerate democratic erosion when incumbents are perceived as highly appealing. Does this imply that populism is not external to democracy, but rather a rational equilibrium outcome within it?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I think that populism, understood as a desire among voters to have a stronger and more direct voice in governing, is inherent in democracy. Populism is a slippery concept. This is why Mudde, who popularized the term, has described it as a “thin” or weak ideology. At its core, it presents a view of the world that pits elites against the people. Some version of this dynamic has always been present. It was already visible at the time the American Constitution was being written. The Anti-Federalists, for example, were populists in this sense. They advocated very short terms of office—sometimes as short as one year—as well as prohibitions on re-election, reflecting a fear that elites would capture power and use it in their own interests rather than in those of the broader population.

This dynamic is therefore as old as democracy itself, and it resurfaces from time to time. At the same time, when the question is framed more fundamentally—whether people are willing to give up democracy altogether for some alternative—we have overwhelming evidence that they are not. People are not willing to accept that; they will defend democracy.

Dissatisfaction Is Democracy’s Constant

Given your argument that political conflict is structured by the available policy alternatives, how does populism reshape the political agenda in ways that both intensify polarization and foreclose the possibility of compromise?

Professor Adam Przeworski: We do have a great deal of evidence of polarization. The proportion of the electorate willing to change its partisan preferences is almost zero, which is somewhat surprising given that party systems themselves are quite unstable. People are increasingly likely to see one another as enemies, and as a result, they are less willing to accept compromise. That said, I do not think we are living in an era of a generalized crisis of democracy. Democracy continues to function quite well in several countries. The fact that we are often dissatisfied with the outcomes of governments and their policies is nothing new.

Consider that there are almost no democratic elections in which any party wins more than 50 percent of the vote. This means that roughly half of voters are dissatisfied with the result from the outset. Once in power, governments inevitably fail to implement all their promises, and perhaps about half of their own supporters become dissatisfied as well. What we observe, then, is a broad and persistent dissatisfaction with both electoral outcomes and government performance. Yet people continue to expect that next time they will prevail, and that the government will deliver on its promises. Elections are, in a sense, a siren song—they renew our optimism that, even if it did not work this time, it might work next time. This dynamic is inherent in democracy and is likely to persist. That is why I am not inclined to interpret current developments as evidence of a generalized crisis.

Why Some Autocracies Gain Support

The Indian Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi, is pictured with the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, and the President of the People’s Republic of China, Xi Jinping, in Goa, India on May 25, 2019. Photo: Shutterstock.

Your work challenges the assumption that authoritarian regimes are inherently fragile, highlighting instead their capacity to govern effectively and generate support. Does this require a fundamental revision of democratic theory’s expectations about the instability of autocracies?

Professor Adam Przeworski: It is difficult for democrats to understand why someone would be satisfied with, or even support, an authoritarian regime. We tend to assume that people would not be willing to give up their political freedom—and sometimes more than that, their cultural freedom—and trust that a government will act in their interests. As a result, much of the literature we produce in the West suggests that authoritarian regimes survive only because of misinformation, censorship, and propaganda. I do not think that is entirely true. There are authoritarian regimes that enjoy passive acceptance, and perhaps even passive support. China is one example. Why? Because authoritarian governments still have to govern—and they do govern. They repair streets, issue licenses, collect garbage; in short, they perform the everyday functions of governance. Moreover, people often do not see viable alternatives. In China, for instance, many do not seriously consider a different system; they simply live within the one they have.

So, my view is that we should not be surprised that some authoritarian regimes are relatively successful and enjoy a degree of popular support. Singapore might be one example, China another. This does not mean that all authoritarian regimes do so—many rely heavily on repression, arbitrariness, and violence in the interests of narrow elites. But the broader point is that authoritarian regimes are not sustained only by deception. Some of them do enjoy genuine support.

Development Sustains Democracy, But May Not Create It

If authoritarian regimes can derive legitimacy through economic performance, symbolic politics, or identity appeals, how does this complicate the long-standing modernization thesis linking development to democratization?

Professor Adam Przeworski: This is a long topic on which I have written extensively. What we know from the evidence is that if a democratic regime exists in an economically developed country, it is very likely to endure. That is the central lesson. In a 1997 article co-authored with Fernando Limongi, we observed that no democracy had ever fallen in a country with a per capita income higher than Argentina’s in 1976. Since then, only Thailand has experienced a democratic breakdown at a slightly higher income level. Overall, however, the evidence is clear: when democracy exists in a developed country, it tends to persist.

A different question is whether countries are more likely to become democratic as they develop economically. This was a widespread belief in the 1960s and 1970s and formed the basis of modernization theory. My conclusion, based on empirical research, is that we have no evidence supporting this claim. In other words, higher levels of economic development do not necessarily make a country more likely to become democratic. So, in a sense, one half of modernization theory is supported by the evidence, while the other half is not.

Why Some Autocracies Endure

What, in your view, distinguishes durable authoritarian regimes from fragile ones—particularly in terms of their ability to balance repression, co-optation, and everyday governance?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I do not really know; I have not studied this question directly. My view is more of a conjecture—and it is no more than that, not strongly supported by empirical evidence, largely because we do not yet have sufficient data. My sense is that when authoritarian regimes reach high levels of income, they tend to become more stable. Singapore and China, for me, are illustrative examples.

When we look at the empirical data, authoritarian regimes appear to be most vulnerable at intermediate levels of income. That is when they are more likely to collapse. By contrast, once they reach sufficiently high levels of income—and there are very few such cases—they seem more likely to endure.

At present, there is only one authoritarian regime with a per capita income comparable to that of most democracies, and that is Singapore. China, despite its significant development, has not yet reached that level. So, from this perspective, we still do not know with certainty whether authoritarian regimes are more likely to survive in developed contexts. However, the available empirical patterns suggest that they probably are.

Legitimacy Without Alternatives

You have critiqued formal models of authoritarianism for neglecting the quotidian practices of governance. How should scholars reconceptualize authoritarian stability to account for these routine, non-coercive dimensions of rule?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I have a particular view of legitimacy, which I spelled out many years ago. I think a regime is legitimate when people do not perceive organized alternatives. When you think about China, whatever else may be true, people simply do not see an alternative. More broadly, our regime preferences are, to a large extent, endogenous—endogenous in the sense that people living under particular regimes, unless those regimes are especially flagrant, tend to accept them. They accept them passively because they do not see much chance of changing them.

Someone living in the state of Iowa in the United States does not think, “What if the American system were like the Chinese one?” Similarly, someone living in Guangdong does not think, “What if our system were like the American one?” People live their everyday lives, and they do not perceive politically organized alternatives. That is simply the way things are.

When such alternatives do appear—when there is a genuinely organized democratic opposition—open conflict emerges, and some authoritarian regimes collapse. We saw this in the fall of the communist bloc, where regimes collapsed one after another.

Challenging the V-Dem Crisis Narrative

Recent V-Dem report findings indicate that a substantial majority of the world’s population now lives under authoritarian regimes, with autocracies outnumbering democracies. How should we interpret this reversal in light of your argument that democracy is historically contingent rather than teleologically progressive?

Professor Adam Przeworski: I think this claim is simply false. In a sense, I see V-Dem as a figment of the imagination. What does it really mean to say that a majority of the world’s population lives under authoritarian governments? How is that measured? I do not have much trust in V-Dem’s measurements of democracy. I think they seek media exposure by heralding crises of democracy. I do not believe there is a worldwide crisis of democracy, so I do not take this claim seriously. On the contrary, there are more democratic regimes—more democratic countries—in the world today than ever before. I am not referring to population, but to the number of countries.

Electorates Can Reverse Illiberal Drift

And finally, Professor Przeworski, recent political developments in countries such as Poland, Brazil, and—potentially—Hungary suggest that electorates can reverse authoritarian or illiberal trajectories through democratic means. To what extent do these cases support the view that democracy retains a self-correcting capacity, and what structural or institutional conditions are necessary for such reversals to succeed rather than produce only partial or fragile restorations?

Professor Adam Przeworski: You are right that what has happened in Brazil, Poland, and Hungary shows that democracies possess a kind of self-preserving capacity. When democracy is truly at stake, people are willing to set aside other values and preferences in order to defend it. There is something about the very possibility of choosing who governs us that constitutes an extraordinarily strong value, to which people remain deeply attached. The examples you cited illustrate this clearly. Attempts to usurp power through various means eventually encounter resistance. Small transgressions may be tolerated, but major violations of democratic rules are not.

Associate Professor Petar Stankov.

Assoc. Prof. Stankov: Too Early to Say Bulgaria’s Radev Will Act as an Orbán 2.0, He Looks More Like Fico 

In an interview with the ECPS, Associate Professor Petar Stankov offers a nuanced assessment of Bulgaria’s post-election trajectory under Rumen Radev. Challenging alarmist comparisons, he argues that “it is too early to tell” whether Radev will become an Orbán-style leader, suggesting instead that he “looks more like Fico,” pursuing a pragmatic balancing strategy. Assoc. Prof. Stankov interprets the electoral outcome as “a demand for stabilization after prolonged institutional volatility,” rather than a clear ideological shift. While economic constraints limit disruptive policymaking, he warns that the greater risk lies in institutional capture, particularly if opportunities for judicial reform are missed. Ultimately, Bulgaria’s trajectory will depend on whether reformist or rent-seeking dynamics prevail.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In the aftermath of Bulgaria’s April 2026 parliamentary elections, the country finds itself at a critical juncture shaped by the tension between political stabilization and the risk of democratic erosion. Following years of fragmentation, repeated elections, and institutional fatigue, Rumen Radev’s newly established Progressive Bulgaria party secured a decisive majority, capitalizing on anti-corruption sentiment, voter exhaustion, and socioeconomic anxieties linked to eurozone integration. While this outcome has brought a measure of political clarity, it has also intensified debates over Bulgaria’s democratic trajectory and its positioning between the European Union and Russia.

In a written interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Associate Professor Petar Stankov, Senior Lecturer in Economics at Royal Holloway, University of London, offers a nuanced and analytically grounded interpretation of these developments. Challenging alarmist comparisons, Assoc. Prof. Stankov argues that “it is too early to tell” whether Radev will evolve into an Orbán-style leader, suggesting instead that he “looks more like Fico,” pursuing a pragmatic balancing strategy rather than an overtly confrontational illiberal project.

At the core of Assoc. Prof. Stankov’s analysis is the argument that Radev’s victory reflects “a demand for stabilization after prolonged institutional volatility,” rather than a coherent ideological realignment. The electoral coalition that brought him to power, he notes, was “mobilized against discredited incumbents, not a coherent positive ideology,” drawing support from both left- and right-leaning constituencies. This heterogeneity, in turn, underscores the enduring salience of identity politics in Bulgaria, where Radev’s “balanced position” on Russia’s war in Ukraine resonated deeply “on identity grounds.”

Situating these dynamics within his broader framework of populist cycles, Assoc. Prof. Stankov characterizes Radev as “a short-term manifestation of populist demand,” rooted less in economic distress than in identity and fairness concerns, particularly dissatisfaction with the judicial system. In this sense, Bulgaria’s political landscape reflects structural patterns rather than exceptional rupture.

The interview also addresses the central question of whether Radev’s anti-corruption mandate will lead to institutional renewal or facilitate a new phase of power concentration. Here, Assoc. Prof. Stankov highlights a fundamental tension between reformist impulses and entrenched interests, warning that outcomes will depend on whether political actors pursue “institutional repair” or the redistribution of “political rents.”

On foreign policy, Assoc. Prof. Stankov underscores the importance of strategic ambiguity. While Radev may be “a natural candidate to do the Kremlin’s bidding,” he is unlikely to pursue a confrontational course vis-à-vis the EU, instead maintaining a careful balancing act shaped by Bulgaria’s structural constraints. Economically, these constraints significantly limit his room for maneuver, but Assoc. Prof. Stankov cautions that “politically, he may do more damage” if opportunities for judicial reform are squandered.

Ultimately, this interview with ECPS presents a measured yet critical assessment of Bulgaria’s evolving political order. By rejecting simplistic analogies and foregrounding structural dynamics, Assoc. Prof. Stankov highlights both the constraints and the risks inherent in Radev’s ascent—capturing a moment in which the promise of stability coexists uneasily with the possibility of democratic backsliding. 

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

A Vote for Stability, Not Ideology

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

Professor Stankov, what does Rumen Radev’s landslide victory tell us about Bulgaria’s current political position after eight elections in five years? Should this outcome be interpreted primarily as a demand for stability and anti-corruption reform, or as evidence of a deeper ideological realignment?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Radev’s victory is best read as a demand for stabilization after prolonged institutional volatility, rather than a clear ideological departure from underlying voter preferences. It mobilized a coalition against discredited incumbents, not a coherent positive ideology. What earned Radev support from the electorate was also his balanced position on the war that Russia started in Ukraine. As Russia has, justifiably or not, a special place in the hearts and minds of many Bulgarians, this stance resonated deeply on identity grounds.

How should we situate Radev’s victory within your broader theory of populist cycles? Does his rise reflect a classic populist moment in which economic anxiety, elite discredit, and identity-based grievances converge into a new electoral coalition?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Populist cycles are a long-term phenomenon. Radev is a short-term manifestation of populist demand, which is consistently strong in Bulgaria. The theory of populist cycles rests on identity, fairness, and economic pillars. If it offers the appropriate lens through which to view Bulgarian politics at the moment, then identity and fairness certainly played a role, though less so the state of the economy. Identity mattered because voters appear to have stopped associating themselves with previous pro-Western populists, finding insufficient representation in them. Fairness also played a role, as the condition of the judicial system is no longer tolerable.

Identity Over Economics, Structure Over Cycles

In your earlier work on Bulgaria and Germany, you identify unemployment, inequality, trade openness, and migration as factors associated with stronger right-wing populist support. To what extent do these structural pressures help explain Radev’s success in 2026, even if he does not fit neatly into a conventional far-right mold?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Yes, but only imperfectly. Cyclical pressures such as inflation and emigration may have been relevant. However, Radev’s support draws from both left- and right-leaning constituencies. This is consistent with identity factors and deeper structural issues shaping Bulgarian voters, rather than the cyclical factors that typically underpin a populist rise.

Radev won on an anti-corruption platform, but anti-corruption discourse in Central and Eastern Europe often serves as a bridge between democratic renewal and populist concentration of power. In your view, does his mandate open a path toward institutional repair, or does it risk legitimizing a new phase of executive centralization in the name of cleansing the system?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: This will depend on two opposing forces. On the one hand, there are new faces in politics under Radev who would like to start from scratch. This would be consistent with the institutional repair hypothesis. On the other hand, there are also some older figures among the incoming cohort of politicians who have not yet had the chance to secure a share of “political rents.” This would be consistent with the hypothesis that consolidation of power serves the redistribution of political rents rather than the renewal of democracy in Bulgaria. Whichever force prevails will determine whether Bulgaria moves toward rebuilding or redistributing. I sincerely hope that idealism will prevail, but history suggests that, in poorer countries, political rents often outweigh ideals.

Closer to Fico Than Orbán in Europe’s Fault Lines

Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico
Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico speaks at a press conference following a Visegrad Group (V4) meeting in Prague, Czech Republic, on February 15, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.

A central question for European observers is whether Radev represents the emergence of a new Orban-type actor inside the EU. Do you see him as a potential ideological successor to Orban in the nexus of EU-Russia tensions, or is that analogy too blunt for the Bulgarian case?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: On the surface, Radev and Orban appear more aligned with the interests of the Kremlin than with those of the EU. However, I think Radev strikes a more balanced tone, at least for now. Whether he will act as an Orban 2.0 is too early to tell, but I do not expect him to go as far as Orban did in his last term in office in terms of aligning with the Kremlin. At the same time, we should not be naive about Radev’s background: he is a military officer from a period when the Bulgarian army perceived NATO as an adversary and Russia as a source of public and ideological goods. It would be unnatural for him to suddenly change his identity.

If not Orban, is Radev better understood as closer to Robert Fico: rhetorically skeptical of Brussels and supportive of “pragmatic” relations with Moscow, yet constrained by economic dependence on the EU and by Bulgaria’s embeddedness in NATO and European institutions?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: I believe Radev fits that description. I expect him to pursue a balancing act without creating major disruptions for NATO or the EU.

How should we interpret Radev’s position on Ukraine? He has opposed military support and criticized parts of the EU’s approach, yet analysts suggest he may avoid outright vetoes while preserving Bulgaria’s role in the broader European defense ecosystem. Does this amount to strategic ambiguity, domestic balancing, or a more systematic geopolitical repositioning?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: It is not natural for Radev to oppose the interests of the Kremlin; doing so would run against who he is and how he has developed as an individual and as a politician. However, I do not think he is inherently confrontational. He projects confidence and a desire for dialogue, which may serve his strategy of ambiguity. Given his current level of electoral support, I do not think he needs to balance domestically—he holds the strongest political mandate in recent memory.

Pragmatism or Russophilia? A Shifting Political Language

What do Radev’s statements about renewing ties with Russia and rethinking Europe’s security architecture tell us about the evolving vocabulary of pro-Russian politics inside the EU? Are we seeing old-style Russophilia, or a newer populist language of “pragmatism,” sovereignty, and anti-moralism designed to be more electorally acceptable?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Because of who Radev is, he is a natural candidate to do the Kremlin’s bidding in Europe, to re-legitimize the economic and political relationships between Europe and the Kremlin, and, why not, to do their dirty laundry. Let us not forget, however, that Radev represents a small and declining nation among many others. In that sense, although Radev is a valuable asset—the Kremlin will take any asset that comes its way at this stage—he is not its prime candidate. The Kremlin’s prime European asset is not even in Europe.

Your work argues that populists weaponize identity conflicts and economic hardships for political gain. In the Bulgarian case, which mattered more in this election: material grievances such as inflation, euro adoption, and living costs, or identity and geopolitical divisions over Russia, Europe, and national sovereignty?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: I believe the latter mattered more. Russian propaganda in Bulgaria is very strong, while the economy is not performing poorly enough for cyclical factors to outweigh identity conflicts.

Balancing Brussels and Moscow While Eyeing Judicial Reform

Radev is not a newcomer; he governed for years from the presidency before stepping down to seek executive power. Looking back at his presidential record, what patterns in his political style, institutional behavior, and crisis communication most help us anticipate how he may govern now as prime minister?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: It is hard for me to predict his moves as prime minister. Although he came to power with one of the most remarkable electoral victories in Bulgarian democratic history, he will probably not rush to disrupt what has worked well so far for the Bulgarian economy. For example, he attempted to launch a referendum on joining the Eurozone in his final year as president, but he would not take Bulgaria out of the Eurozone. He may be inclined to cozy up to the Kremlin, but he would not forgo the benefits of EU membership. What he could attempt—and history may credit him for—is to secure a constitutional majority for large-scale judicial reform. Whatever his rhetoric abroad, if he manages to fix that system, which has long hindered the development of a level playing field in Bulgaria, he will be remembered for his domestic achievements rather than his external balancing act.

Do you see Progressive Bulgaria as a durable governing project, or as a typical new-party vehicle built around a single leader and a temporary coalition of discontented voters? In other words, does this victory mark the stabilization of a new political order, or simply the latest phase in Bulgaria’s volatile anti-establishment cycle?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Like any party built around a single leader rather than a consensual political platform, Progressive Bulgaria will likely fizzle out once Radev is no longer at its helm.

Reform Window or Lost Generation?

One of the themes in your research is that not all populists are equally damaging in economic governance, especially in Europe, where institutional constraints can mute the worst forms of macroeconomic populism. Given Bulgaria’s EU obligations, eurozone membership, and fiscal constraints, how much room does Radev actually have to behave as a disruptive populist in office? Yet your work also stresses that the economic moderation of populists does not necessarily prevent damage to the rule of law, democratic accountability, or civil society. If Radev is constrained economically, should the greater concern be institutional capture rather than macroeconomic irresponsibility?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: Economically, Radev has little room to do significant damage. His external constraints are substantial, and he would therefore be unable to pursue the kind of macroeconomic populism that has plagued Latin American economies in the past.

Politically, however, he may do more damage if he squanders his opportunity to build a majority for constitutional reforms that are vital for the country’s long-term development. If he does squander it, Bulgarians may need to wait another generation—or even two—before a similarly strong political figure emerges with a popular mandate for reform. 

This broader concern, that European populists may do more damage politically than economically, raises an important question: if economic constraints limit their capacity for harm, should political constraints also be strengthened? There has recently been a proposal for EU institutional reform to limit the consensus principle in certain areas, particularly foreign policy. Proposals of this kind may bring the European project closer to its original vision of uniting European nations under shared values. However, the trade-off is that many smaller states could become less influential in decision-making. To protect itself from malign external influence, the EU may need to reconsider some of its foundational principles—evolve, or else…

Looking ahead, what is your medium-term forecast for Bulgaria under Radev? Do you expect a pragmatic, nationally framed but still fundamentally European government; a creeping illiberal turn marked by pressure on the judiciary and media; or a shorter-lived experiment in which governing responsibilities quickly erode the broad electoral coalition that brought him to power?

Assoc. Prof. Petar Stankov: That depends on how quickly he starts forming a coalition for constitutional change. If this part of his agenda starts finding excuses to be pushed further back in time while mundane issues take centre stage, the medium-term forecast for Bulgaria would not be great. If a majority for constitutional changes takes centre stage in the political narrative coming from Radev, then I would be more optimistic. In general, I would be an optimist until proven wrong, which, given the Bulgarian experience of the last few decades, has never been a hard theorem to prove.

Bulgarian President Rumen Radev.

Assoc. Prof. Otova: Under Radev, the Path to Autocracy in Bulgaria Becomes All Too Easy

Associate Professor Ildiko Otova, in an interview with the ECPS, offers a compelling analysis of Bulgaria’s post-election trajectory under Rumen Radev. Following a landslide victory driven by anti-corruption sentiment and political fatigue, Radev has consolidated power in a system marked by institutional fragility. Assoc. Prof. Otova argues that his success reflects not a new geopolitical shift, but a strategic exploitation of existing cleavages, enabled by a “specific discursive situation” of empty rhetoric and symbolic politics. While his ambiguity has mobilized a broad electorate, it also masks deeper risks. As populism transitions from protest to governance, Assoc. Prof. Otova warns that, under conditions of concentrated power and weak safeguards, “the path to autocracy becomes all too easy.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In the aftermath of Bulgaria’s April 2026 parliamentary elections, the country has entered a new and uncertain political phase marked by both the promise of stability and the risk of accelerated democratic erosion. Rumen Radev’s newly formed Progressive Bulgaria party secured a decisive majority after years of political fragmentation, capitalizing on widespread anti-corruption sentiment, voter fatigue with repeated elections, and growing socioeconomic anxieties following eurozone accession. While his victory ended a prolonged cycle of unstable coalition governments, it also raised urgent questions about the future trajectory of Bulgarian democracy, particularly given Radev’s ambivalent positioning between the European Union and Russia.

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Associate Professor Ildiko Otova, Head of Political Science Department at New Bulgarian University, offers a nuanced and analytically rigorous assessment of the structural and discursive dynamics underpinning Radev’s rise. As she argues, his victory “should not be attributed solely to Russia or to the broader Europe-Russia divide”; rather, it reflects a more complex political environment in which he has “skillfully exploited” existing cleavages, often “using minimal words and gestures to convey what different audiences want to hear.” This strategic ambiguity has allowed him to mobilize a remarkably heterogeneous electorate, ranging from pro-European reformists to nationalist and pro-Russian constituencies.

Assoc. Prof. Otova situates this development within a broader pattern of normalized populism in Bulgaria, where “what was once an episodic phenomenon has become a structural feature of the system.” In such a context, Radev’s success appears less as an anomaly than as the predictable result of a political order shaped by institutional distrust, party-system exhaustion, and what she terms a “specific discursive situation” characterized by cycles of “empty rhetoric” and symbolic politics. His campaign slogan, “We are ready, we can do it, and we will succeed,” captured this dynamic, offering not policy substance but an affective promise of exit from political stagnation.

At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Otova underscores the deeper identity tensions that continue to shape Bulgarian politics. Euroscepticism, she notes, is structured by enduring paradoxes, including the perception of the EU as an external imposition, contrasted with the framing of Russia as culturally “internal.” This ambivalence has enabled Radev to navigate competing geopolitical imaginaries while maintaining what she describes as a dual discourse, one directed at domestic audiences, another at Brussels.

Yet the central concern animating Assoc. Prof. Otova’s analysis is the transformation of populism from oppositional rhetoric into governing practice. With a consolidated parliamentary majority and limited institutional constraints, “concrete actions and policies are required,” and it is precisely under these conditions, she warns, that “the path to autocracy becomes all too easy.” In a system already marked by weak institutional safeguards and vulnerability to state capture, the concentration of executive power risks reproducing, rather than dismantling, entrenched oligarchic networks.

This interview with ECPS situates Bulgaria at a critical juncture. While Radev’s rise reflects broader global trends of democratic backsliding and populist normalization, Assoc. Prof. Otova’s insights highlight the contingent nature of political outcomes, shaped not only by leadership, but by institutional resilience, societal mobilization, and the unresolved tensions at the heart of Bulgaria’s democratic and European identity.

Ildiko Otova, an Associate Professor of Political Science and the Head of Political Science Department at New Bulgarian University.

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

Not a New Cleavage, but a Strategic Exploitation of Old Divides

Professor Otova, given your argument that Bulgarian Euroscepticism must be read through the historically embedded Europe–Russia axis, does Rumen Radev’s victory mark a new phase in this cleavage, or merely its latest institutional expression?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Relations with Russia have long been central to Bulgarian politics, shaped by shared history, culture, personal connections, economic ties, and geopolitical factors. A widely circulated photo of Radev with Putin drew significant attention, prompting international media to describe him as “Russia’s new Trojan horse in Europe.” Experts have rightly pointed to Russia’s involvement in Radev’s political rise and raised concerns about campaign interference, online influence operations, and opaque funding sources suggesting substantial investment.

However, Radev’s victory should not be attributed solely to Russia or to the broader Europe–Russia divide. His win does not mark a new phase in this cleavage; rather, he has skillfully exploited it, using minimal words and gestures to convey what different audiences want to hear. In a campaign—and a political environment—often full of empty rhetoric, Radev has become adept at using silence, paradoxically communicating exactly what various constituencies seek.

In practice, little is known about the figures in his party, but among those who have become visible, we observe both openly provocative pro-Russian positions and the exact opposite. This is not to downplay Russia’s role; instead, it underscores the need for more comprehensive explanations.

Euroscepticism Built on Cultural Paradoxes and Identity Tensions

To what extent does Radev’s rise reflect not only geopolitical ambivalence but also a deeper identity crisis in post-communist Bulgaria, where competing civilizational imaginaries—Europeanization, Slavic-Orthodox affinity, and post-socialist nostalgia—intersect? In your framework, how does this identity fragmentation reshape the nature of Bulgarian Euroscepticism?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Bulgarian Euroscepticism rests on several paradoxes. The first is that the EU and “Europe” are frequently depicted as external to Bulgaria and Bulgarians—as actors that impose unacceptable values and adopt a lecturing posture. Yet this hostility toward external influence does not extend to all external actors. Russia, for example, is often not perceived as foreign in the same way; rather, it is framed as culturally “internal” due to a presumed Slavic-Orthodox affinity.

The second paradox is temporal. Resistance to the EU did not precede Bulgaria’s accession but developed alongside it. Until the early 2000s, Bulgaria was characterized by a broad pro-European consensus. 

Third, although Bulgaria has been an EU member state for years, European issues remain weakly embedded in its domestic political agenda. This does not mean that anti-EU narratives are absent. On the contrary, they are visible in discourses about massive migration allegedly changing the national gene pool, “stealing” the pensions of the elderly because EU policies and values are too liberal, and attacks on so-called “gender ideology,” among other themes.

Fourth, the deeper Bulgaria’s European integration becomes, the more its political elites tend to adopt anti-European positions. This shift occurs primarily through the normalization of populism. In this sense, within the Bulgarian context, the relationship between Euroscepticism and populism is particularly important—though not predetermined. There are also examples of populist, anti-establishment projects that remain pro-European. Among voters, too, there are those who are anti-establishment and anti-corruption yet remain pro-European. Notably, Radev has managed to mobilize them as well, including a significant portion of the so-called Generation Z.

There is also one more factor that should not be overlooked: his flirtation with the idea of a potential referendum on the euro. People do not necessarily need a rational explanation for why food is expensive; they need someone or something to blame. Prices do not even have to rise in reality—it is enough to sustain a narrative of rising costs. In this sense, the timing and the overall situation played perfectly into Radev’s hands.

Exhaustion, Silence, and the Power of Narrative Control

Bulgaria protests.
Protesters chant anti-government slogans during a demonstration in central Sofia, Bulgaria on July 26, 2013. Photo: Anton Chalakov / Dreamstime.

Should Radev’s success be understood primarily as anti-establishment populism, geopolitical revisionism, or a hybrid formation in which anti-corruption discourse masks a deeper pro-Russian reorientation?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Any of these three explanations is valid, yet even taken together, they remain too simplistic. As a citizen, I find it increasingly difficult to remain silent about the pervasive corruption in Bulgaria and the broader condition of the country, or to withhold my solidarity with the despair my fellow citizens feel toward the political elite. After the events of recent years, and the evident futility of going to the polls for an eighth time, there is a sense of collective exhaustion. Nevertheless, I will attempt an answer within an academic framework.

In my view, the main reason for his victory lies in what I would describe as a specific discursive situation. Since 2020, Bulgaria has been caught not only in a cycle of repeated elections but also in a cycle of empty rhetoric. Radev has managed to control the narrative so effectively that he appears to tell everyone what they want to hear—largely through silence. This is neither classic anti-elitist rhetoric built on the populist trope of the corrupt elite versus the honest, long-suffering people nor a standard expression of movements grounded in a thin-centred ideology.

“We are ready, we can do it, and we will succeed”—the words with which he announced his departure from the presidency, later adopted as his campaign slogan—projected a sense of purpose. They offered not concrete details, but hope for an exit from a cycle of meaningless repetition. In a political environment where emotions and symbolic gestures carry greater weight than rational argument, and where both traditional and digital media amplify urgency and a pervasive sense of crisis, this has proven sufficient. For citizens who are exhausted and perceive threats as omnipresent, such messaging resonates deeply.

Populism as the New Normal in Bulgarian Politics

In your work with Evelina Staykova, you argue that populism in Bulgaria has become normalized through party-system exhaustion, state–economy fusion, institutional distrust, and the digital turn. Does the 2026 election represent the culmination of this normalization?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Since 2001, Bulgaria has experienced several so-called waves of populism: the return of Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the rise of GERB, and the emergence of post-2020, protest-driven, short-lived “pop-up” political projects. Taken together, these developments illustrate how what was once an episodic phenomenon has become a structural feature of the system. Paradoxically, the populist wave has itself become a constant.

Populism is now the defining characteristic of Bulgaria’s political order—the norm rather than the exception—making it unrealistic to expect fundamentally different outcomes. Radev fits squarely within this pattern: his victory represents not an unexpected populist surge, but the predictable result of a persistently populist political environment, shaped by the specific discursive situation I mentioned.

If this moment does represent a culmination, one might expect either a subsequent decline in populism or a reversion to pre-populist politics. However, such a scenario currently appears unlikely.

Radev has long combined anti-corruption, nationalist, and anti-establishment rhetoric from within one of the state’s highest institutions. Does his transition from the presidency to executive power illustrate the transformation of populism from protest discourse into governing logic?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: This is the greatest challenge he faces. The presidency, even though he ultimately governed alone through caretaker governments and later during the pre-election period, gave him the opportunity to craft narratives. However, when one commands such a majority and holds executive power, concrete actions and policies are required.

We have had populists in power before—the GERB administration is one such example—but the dynamics were different. The coalition nature of those governments, especially the most recent one, created room to maneuver. Under Radev, there will be no such leeway. And that is the greatest challenge we face. Under these conditions, the path to autocracy becomes all too easy.

Limits of the Orbán Analogy

Editorial illustration: Rumen Radev and Viktor Orbán depicted against national flags, symbolizing political tensions between Bulgaria and Hungary. Photo: Dreamstime.

How should we assess the analogy between Radev and Orbán? Does Radev possess the ideological coherence and institutional ambition required for Orbán-style illiberal state-building, or is Bulgaria’s EU dependency likely to constrain him?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Let us begin with the obvious: Orbán is an experienced politician with a long, well-documented, and easily traceable career. Radev, by contrast, was effectively parachuted from the military into the presidency—a role he has never fully mastered. He entered politics without a solid ideological, political, or broader conceptual foundation, essentially as an empty vessel into which almost anything could be poured.

Another obvious point is that Bulgaria is not Hungary. Radev lacks ideological consistency and has no substantial political background or prior experience; he is, to a large extent, a product of the circumstances that enabled his rise—a product of the status quo, the absence of alternatives, and the prevailing populist momentum. Looking back, we also cannot entirely rule out the possibility that his ascent was shaped by external forces. What is beyond doubt, however, is the presence of clear ambition.

In this sense, the emergence of a non-liberal form of democracy in Bulgaria cannot be ruled out. The European Union, having learned from its experience with Hungary, is likely to be far more cautious. Against this backdrop, Radev’s first major test will be the so-called judicial reform.

Is Radev better understood as an Orbán-type system builder, a Fico-type pragmatic Eurosceptic, or a specifically Bulgarian figure shaped by Russophile memory, anti-corruption politics, and institutional volatility?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: I do not think these comparisons meaningfully deepen our understanding of Radev or improve our ability to predict future developments. There are simply too many specific factors at play, and the international landscape is in constant flux. What existed elsewhere yesterday may not necessarily apply here tomorrow.

The Politics of Dual Discourse

Your research suggests that Bulgarian populism often blurs ideological distinctions. How should we classify Progressive Bulgaria: left-conservative, national-populist, technocratic-populist, or post-ideological?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Yes, populism undoubtedly blurs ideological distinctions; this is intrinsic to its nature. Consider Progressive Bulgaria’s program: despite the label “progressive,” its economic agenda is largely far right, even though some members of its expert economic team previously worked on more left-leaning projects. This example alone illustrates the extent to which ideological lines are being blurred.

For this reason, I see the party as best fitting within a post-ideological framework. Populism can be understood as a de-ideologized ideology. It incorporates elements from other ideologies, yet remains neither left nor right, and this is precisely one of the greatest dangers it poses—the de-ideologization, and consequently the depoliticization, of the political. Progressive Bulgaria, at least for now, aligns well with this understanding.

Does Radev’s discourse of “pragmatism” toward Russia and “critical thinking” toward Europe signal a strategic foreign policy stance, or does it reveal a more profound ontological insecurity in Bulgaria’s self-understanding as both a European and historically Russia-linked polity? How does identity anxiety translate into political legitimacy for such leaders?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: I believe these statements by Radev are part of a broader strategy to tell each audience what it wants to hear. It is highly likely that he will continue to use one discourse in Bulgaria and another in Brussels. This is nothing new; Bulgarian politicians have long maintained such a dual discourse. In Radev’s case, however, it will be especially evident, likely conveyed through various spokespersons as well.

At the same time, Radev will have to speak not only to pro-Russian citizens at home. The EU still enjoys the support of more than half of Bulgarians, and some of those who backed Radev did so not because of his pro-Russian stance, but because of his anti-corruption declarations. He will have to meet their expectations with tangible actions, as narrative alone will no longer suffice.

Strategic Ambiguity Between Brussels and Moscow

Radev’s Ukraine stance appears to combine opposition to military aid with reluctance to openly block EU decisions. Is this strategic ambiguity a governing necessity, or a sign of deeper tension between his electorate’s geopolitical pluralism and his own Russophile instincts?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: I cannot say whether Radev holds Russophile instincts. If he does, it would be rather ironic given his background in American military academies. Joking aside, there is a Russian saying: “We will live and we will see”—time will tell. However, I would assume that Radev will not openly oppose EU decisions.

To what extent did Radev absorb the political space of openly pro-Russian and nationalist parties such as Revival, and does this suggest moderation of the far right or mainstreaming of its core themes?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: The myth of moderation is remarkably persistent, but I do not find it convincing. For years, analysts have claimed that once the far right gains power, it will be tamed. The opposite has happened: instead, far-right views have steadily become the norm. One need only look across the EU to observe this trend.

When it comes to Revival, Radev succeeded in attracting a significant portion of its electorate. As I have already noted, he now faces the difficult task of continuing to speak to multiple constituencies at once—and to do so convincingly through his actions. This will determine whether he fully absorbs the Revival electorate or, conversely, whether that electorate becomes further radicalized and shifts into opposition. I would not underestimate the leader of Revival, who is a seasoned political actor.

Given Bulgaria’s captured institutions, weak trust, and repeated anti-corruption mobilizations, can Radev realistically dismantle oligarchic networks, or does his concentration of power risk reproducing the same state-capture logic under a new banner?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: This issue is extremely important. The resignation of the acting chief prosecutor, coming just days after Radev’s victory, was among the first signs of a new arrangement and already signals a realignment within oligarchic networks. I would also return to the question of how Radev’s seemingly expensive campaign was funded. Where did that money come from? Even these few points leave little room for optimism.

Radev’s regime is likely to reconstitute a state-capture model—perhaps initially in a more covert and less overtly assertive form—but such a configuration is unlikely to remain restrained over time.

From Anti-Elite Narrative to Elite Reality

Anti-government protests against corruption intensified across Sofia, Bulgaria on July 15, 2020. Photo: Dreamstime.

You have argued that anti-establishment populists in power may themselves become the new elite. How quickly might this paradox confront Radev once he assumes responsibility for inflation, eurozone adjustment, corruption reform, and EU funding?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Radev has long belonged to the elite. After all, he has been the sitting president for nearly nine years. His seemingly modest gestures—driving his own car, grumbling about the lack of parking spaces in Sofia, and publicly paying his parking tickets—are mostly for show, part of the narrative drafting.  

That said, I understand the core of the question. Given the international environment and the many urgent issues awaiting resolution, the risk that mounting challenges will overwhelm the new status quo is very real. Radev’s victory will ultimately need to be substantiated through concrete actions. Let us return to the notion of a “de-ideologized ideology” and the broader process of depoliticizing politics. How can genuinely sustainable policies be designed when they are no longer anchored in a clear and coherent vision?

My concern is that the emerging political reality is stripping politics of its very essence: not only the capacity to deliver immediate solutions, but also the obligation to develop policies grounded in a substantive vision of the world and its internal order. Returning to Radev, it is entirely possible that the failure of the new elite could trigger a fresh wave of protests. The key questions are whether such protests would be strong enough and, more importantly, what kind of new political configuration they might produce.

A new, powerful actor—a new master of the narrative who can and will succeed—will not emerge overnight. The possibility that, if Radev fails, Bulgaria could enter yet another cycle of instability cannot be ruled out. Even so, I am inclined to believe that Radev and those around him will, at least for a while, remain in power.

Diaspora Divides and the Limits of Democratic Agency

In your work on contestatory citizenship, you highlight the transformative potential of civic agency. In the current context, can civic mobilization and diaspora engagement mitigate what appears to be an emerging crisis of democratic and European identity, or are these forms of participation themselves being reshaped by populist narratives of belonging and exclusion?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: Let me begin by noting that the diaspora is not necessarily pro-European—quite the contrary. While some are pro-European, others are anti-European, including Bulgarian emigrants in other EU member states. I continue to believe in the power of contestatory citizenship. However, as I have already noted, the key question is what exactly a new wave of protests might bring about.

Looking ahead, do you expect Radev’s Bulgaria to become a pragmatic EU-anchored government with Russophile rhetoric, a soft illiberal regime inside the EU, or an unstable populist experiment likely to fracture under the burdens of governance?

Assoc. Prof. Ildiko Otova: I do not think these three options are mutually exclusive.