Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian.

Dr. Arian: Neither Foreign Powers nor Clerical Elites Represent the Iranian People

In this interview with the ECPS, Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian offers a penetrating account of Iran at a moment of war, repression, and political uncertainty. As the Israel/US–Iran conflict deepens and succession struggles intensify in Tehran, he argues that the central issue is the systematic erasure of Iranian popular agency. For Dr. Arian, the Islamic Republic has evolved from an ideological revolutionary order into an increasingly militarized system—“basically a killing machine”—while external intervention risks further marginalizing the people in whose name it claims to act. Moving from everyday micropower and censorship to the IRGC’s rise, social humiliation, and the politics of war, he underscores a stark reality: neither foreign powers nor clerical elites genuinely represent the Iranian people.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian—Iranian American writer and journalist, and Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Binghamton University—offers a powerful and deeply textured analysis of Iran’s current condition at a moment of extraordinary peril. As the Israel/US–Iran war expands into a broader regional conflict marked by bombardment, civilian displacement, and intensifying regime-change rhetoric, Dr. Arian cautions against narratives that erase the agency of the Iranian people themselves. In a context where President Donald Trump has demanded Iran’s “unconditional surrender,” openly declared an interest in shaping the country’s postwar leadership, and where succession debates have reportedly intensified following the death of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Dr. Arian’s central warning is stark: “neither of them has anything to do with the Iranian people.”

That insistence on popular agency—and on its systematic denial—runs through the interview as a whole. For Dr. Arian, Iran’s predicament cannot be reduced either to foreign pressure alone or to a simplistic image of “clerical rule.” Rather, he describes a political system that has evolved over 47 years from an ideological revolutionary order into something far more militarized, coercive, and socially corrosive. What began with “a very strong ideological core, surrounded by a security apparatus,” he argues, has gradually become “less and less ideological and more and more militarized.” In his starkest formulation, the regime today is “basically a killing machine,” one whose relationship to society has been reduced to a binary of “friend and enemy.”

Yet Dr. Arian’s account is not confined to the spectacular violence of war and mass repression. One of the interview’s greatest strengths lies in its insistence that authoritarian domination in Iran is reproduced through everyday practices, cultural control, and administrative routines. Recalling his own childhood and youth, he explains that in the 1980s and 1990s one “felt the presence of the state almost on your skin.” From school rituals and anti-American iconography to compulsory hijab and the disciplining of bodies, the regime exercised what he calls a “very Foucauldian kind of presence of power in daily life.” The same logic extended into literature and language: censorship, exile, and the weakening of Persian literary culture did not merely restrict expression but also narrowed the horizons of political imagination itself.

At the same time, Dr. Arian foregrounds the uneven social distribution of repression. The Islamic Republic, he notes, presents itself internationally as a defender of “the poor, the wretched of the earth, the underdog,” yet “nobody has suffered at its hands more than the poor.” Women, Baha’is, workers, and peripheral communities have borne disproportionate burdens of exclusion, persecution, and violence. 

Against this backdrop, his analysis of the current war is especially sobering. If military intervention deepens, he warns, “the will of the people becomes the last thing that counts.” The core question, then, is not simply whether the regime survives, but whether Iranians themselves can recover political agency from both authoritarian rulers and external powers claiming to act in their name.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Assistant Professor Amir Ahmed Arian, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Iran Regime’s Presence Felt Omnipresent

Billboard depicting Ayatollah Sayyid Ali Hosseini Khamenei and Imam Sayyid Ruhollah Musavi Khomeini on a building wall in Tehran, Iran, April 2018. The portraits honor the founder of the Islamic Republic, Ruhollah Khomeini (Supreme Leader 1979–1989), and his successor Ali Khamenei (Supreme Leader 1989–2026), whose images frequently appear in public spaces as symbols of the regime’s ideological authority. Photo: Dreamstime.

Professor Amir Ahmed Arian, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Having grown up and begun your literary career inside Iran, how would you describe the everyday texture of life under Iran’s clerical-authoritarian system? At the level of routines—schooling, workplaces, gender norms, religion, and bureaucracy—how do these micro-practices reproduce obedience, negotiation, or subtle forms of resistance?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: In Iran, one caveat I have to give at the beginning—which will apply to all my answers—is that when we talk about the Islamic Republic, we are talking about 47 years of rule by this political system, and it has evolved and changed a lot over time. So, the practices that you mentioned—the way they were conducted in the 1980s and the 1990s—are very different from those in 2000 or 2010. The rulers have changed a lot as well. Depending on who the president was, society changed dramatically. And even more importantly, Iranian society itself sheds its skin very quickly, generation after generation.

What you see among young people now—this generation—has very little to do with my generation. People who were born around the time of the revolution are now middle-aged, and the twenty-somethings today do not really listen to us or care much about what we think. So, what I am saying is mainly founded on my own personal experience growing up there. I left Iran in 2011, and over the last fifteen years the country has changed quite dramatically. So, what I say is less a comprehensive analysis of what is going on in Iran and more an account based on my own personal experience.

To answer your question, growing up in Iran in the 1980s and the 1990s, you really did feel the presence of the state, because that was the strictest period after the revolution. After the reformist movement in the late 1990s, things began to open up. But in those first two decades, you felt the presence of the state almost on your skin.

It was overwhelming and omnipresent all the time. To give you one example, the way they tried to inculcate their foreign policy in the mind of a child was that throughout my education—during elementary school, high school, and later in college, when I attended the University of Tehran—there were massive flags of the US and Israel painted on the ground in front of the gates of all those institutions.

So, when you walked into the school or through the university gate, you could not even enter without stepping on them. Imagine doing that for twelve years in school and then five years in college—almost every day. Not just me, but millions of children across the country stepped on the US and Israeli flags in order to enter school. Just imagine what that does to your unconscious mind—how it shapes the way you see the world unwittingly, beyond what you consciously know or learn.

For women especially, there was another, much more aggressive layer, which was the compulsory hijab. This started in elementary school. Six-year-old girls had to wear uniforms and maghnaeh, these tight scarves, and they had to keep them on throughout the day. Of course, in public spaces there was also a very strict dress code for women. Women could not appear in the street without complying with it. I do not think anything embodies the aggressive presence of the state in all aspects of daily life as clearly as the compulsory hijab.

These are just two small examples.

The way the system worked was that, instead of relying only on a top-down system of propaganda, there was also the presence of micropower spread throughout society. These mechanisms were designed to strictly control bodies and constantly remind you that the state is here, and the state is watching you. So, it was a very Foucauldian kind of presence of power in daily life.

Iran’s System Is Not Just Clerical Rule—It Is a Militarized Security State

Analysts often reduce Iran’s system to “clerical rule,” yet your work suggests a far more complex configuration of institutions. How should we conceptualize the Iranian regime today—as a theocratic regime, a bureaucratic-security state, or a hybrid authoritarian system combining ideology, patronage networks, and coercive institutions?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: It’s basically all of the above. From the beginning of the revolution, the system has had a very strong ideological core, surrounded by a security apparatus. And you have the Revolutionary Guards, which constitute a very complicated and vast network of people. Within it, there are individuals who are completely cynical and technocratic, or those who are there to run their own businesses through military means, as well as truly apocalyptic warriors who want to bring about Armageddon and believe they are involved in some sort of end-of-the-world battle.

In between, you have all kinds of government bureaucracies and institutions that try to find a foothold in this network.

But the point is that, as time has gone on—from the beginning of the revolution to now, over these 47 years—the Iranian government has become less and less ideological and more and more militarized. So right now, more than anything, it resembles something like a European fascist regime in the 1930s and 1940s, one that was completely reduced to security forces. It is basically a killing machine. And the last moment when we saw that very clearly was this January.

On January 8 and 9, they opened fire with live ammunition on unarmed protesters all over the country and killed at least 8,000 people. I know that number is very contested, but at this point we have 8,000 names identified without a shadow of doubt. The organization that documented this is also working on verifying 11,000 more names. Many of them are already partially verified, but the process of full verification is ongoing. So even if half of that is true, we are looking at a five-digit death toll in basically 36 hours, which would make it the bloodiest massacre a state has committed against its own population in modern history.

That alone should make it very clear that the ideological façade and the bureaucratic elements are collapsing. The ideological façade is gone, because what they did then cannot be justified by any religious doctrine—or, frankly, by any ideological doctrine other than some form of fascism, perhaps something like Shia fascism. And the bureaucratic veneer is also very thin now; I would even argue that it has largely disappeared. Because no reasonable governing entity—whether a state or any other governing body—would do that simply to control society. You only do that when you see your own people as the enemy. There is really no other explanation.

So right now, the system has been reduced to a very hardcore security corps composed of armed elements of the Basij, the Revolutionary Guards, and parts of the police. And their relationship with the Iranian people is essentially one of friend and enemy. You are either in their camp, or you are not. And if you are not, they are out there to eliminate you. They do not really want you to exist anymore. So, of all the political systems that have existed, from what little I know of European history, they remind me of Franco’s regime in Spain—something that functions in a very similar way or resembles certain forms of 20th-century fascism.

The Revolutionary Guards Have Become a Military–Political–Economic Juggernaut

Platoon of Iranian army soldiers carrying the flag of the Islamic Republic of Iran during the international military competition ARMY-2018 in Pesochnoye, Kostroma Region, Russia, June 2018. Photo: Dreamstime.

The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps occupies a central position in Iran’s political and economic life. Should the IRGC be understood primarily as a military institution, a security apparatus, a sprawling economic conglomerate, or even a ruling class? What does its economic embeddedness mean for reform, regime durability, or potential transition?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: So again, that’s another case with the IRGC, or the Sepah. It started off as a military organization at the beginning of the revolution, mainly to help the official army during the Iran–Iraq War. It was almost exclusively military in the beginning. Then, as time went on, it started consolidating power, accruing more and more influence through the decades. This became especially evident during the reformist movement, because the commanders of the IRGC were opposed to Khatami and the reformists in power, as well as to the political elite that came to power in the late 1990s. After that, they decided to become increasingly involved in politics.

Another turning point came later with the economic sanctions imposed after the controversy surrounding Iran’s nuclear program. Following these disputes, Western countries began imposing some of the harshest sanctions in the world on Iran. As we know, such conditions often become a recipe for corruption. In my view, these sanctions cast something like a net over Iran’s economy. They disrupted the natural flow of exports and imports, especially oil exports. However, there was a significant hole in this net: Iran’s access to China. China was simply too powerful to fully comply with the sanctions and follow the United States’ lead, so it continued to purchase oil from Iran. Because China has an enormous and constant appetite for energy, Iran could sell oil to it below market price and still sell large volumes. As a result, even under very harsh sanctions, Iran was still able to generate a considerable amount of revenue through oil sales to China.

The problem, however, was that this revenue flowed through only one channel: the Revolutionary Guards. As a result, large segments of the economy gradually became concentrated in their hands, which almost inevitably led to corruption. Over time, within the ranks of the Revolutionary Guards, you can see an oligarchy beginning to take shape. And not just within the Revolutionary Guards—the broader political elite, especially their children and relatives, also joined this oligarchic network. Perhaps a few thousand people became involved in the export and import of oil with very little accountability. As a result, they began making themselves extremely rich, often at the expense of the well-being of ordinary Iranians and their daily lives.

At that point—perhaps by the mid-2010s—you could see that the Revolutionary Guards, which had started as a military organization and later evolved into a military–political organization, were becoming a military–political–economic juggernaut. It became something like an octopus, with tentacles reaching into almost every aspect of Iranian society, and that has continued to be the case until now.

Humiliation Is One of the Main Engines of Protest in Iran

Your writings frequently evoke emotions such as humiliation, anger, fear, and exhaustion. How do these affective dimensions shape political mobilization in Iran? In particular, how do humiliation and generational frustration interact with social fatigue to influence the timing and intensity of protest movements?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think humiliation is really key, especially if you watch the state media in Iran. It is a relentless and non-stop process of insulting your intelligence through the way propaganda is produced. It is really as absurd as looking at the sky in broad daylight while the TV tells you that it is nighttime. And they say it very aggressively, with zero respect for the intelligence and dignity of their audience.

Iranians are very well aware of the source of their problems. They know that the main source of their misery is their rulers, the Islamic Republic. Yes, sanctions have contributed heavily. The hostility from Israel, all the stories about the nuclear program—some exaggerated, some fabricated—and the accusations coming from a state that possesses far more nuclear weapons than Iran will ever have all contain a degree of hypocrisy. Iranians recognize that. But when you look at the political landscape of Iran, it is very clear to everyone that most of what we have gone through is the responsibility of the Islamic Republic. And the rulers know that too. It is not a secret to them.

But for 47 years, you look at their behavior and see that they have not taken a single step toward the people of Iran. Not one. They have never shown any willingness to make concessions to civil society or to protesters in the streets. They have never demonstrated any real interest in listening to them. Every time people have come out to protest, the regime initially responded with batons, and as protests intensified, with bullets. And we saw just last month what a wholesale massacre was essentially.

Even today, they continue to deny most of their responsibility for the absolute disaster they have inflicted on Iranian lives. So, when you look at this while living inside Iran, you see a government responsible for the immiseration of multiple generations yet unwilling to take even a shred of responsibility for what it has done. They have shown no willingness to change course.

This is the frustration, the rage, and the humiliation that it instills. And it can very easily boil over and drive people into the streets.

Iranians know how brutal their rulers are, how willing the regime is to kill them, and yet protests continue. In fact, you have rarely seen street protests as frequently anywhere in the world as in Iran over the past 10 or 15 years. Every couple of years there is a major wave of mass protest—whether over economic conditions, the compulsory hijab, or other issues.

Each time, people know they will be met with extreme violence, with bullets and batons. Every time they go out into the streets, they know they may never return home. Yet they still do it, because the sense of humiliation and frustration runs so deep that, in their minds, risking death can feel worthwhile simply to express it publicly.

Iranian woman standing in middle of Iranian protests for equal rights for women. Burning headscarves in protest against the government. Illustration: Digital Asset Art.

Women, Minorities, and the Poor Bear the Heaviest Burdens of Repression

For those who challenge the regime—writers, activists, workers, or ordinary protesters—what does the spectrum of repression look like in practice? How are risks such as censorship, economic exclusion, detention, torture, or exile distributed across class, gender, ethnicity, and geography?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: Probably the biggest irony of the Islamic Republic is that its outward presence to the world—its public face—and unfortunately many in the West buy into that, especially people on the left, is that it presents itself as standing up for the poor, for the wretched of the earth, for the underdog, for the downtrodden, and so on. So, it defines itself as one of the few states in the world that stands with the underdog. But when you go inside Iran, nobody has suffered at its hands more than the poor, working people, and those who do not have the means to make ends meet.

And this has been the case for decades, at least since the 1990s. You could argue that in the 1980s the regime implemented some policies aimed at creating a degree of economic equality. But definitely since the 1990s, after the death of Ayatollah Khomeini, it has essentially operated as an economic system that consistently favors the rich while suppressing the poor. It has only worsened over time, and as I mentioned earlier, the sanctions have also contributed to this dynamic.

So if you are poor—and there is a reason why in more recent demonstrations and protests you see more working people and poor citizens from the margins of society, from smaller towns near the borders where poverty is particularly severe—those are often the people who take to the streets and risk their lives more than people in the major cities. That was not the case back in 2009 during the Green Movement.

Then, of course, there are religious minorities, especially the Baha’is. It is actually a principle of their religion not to engage in political activism, so they have never posed any significant threat to the political order in Iran. Yet, because of the dogmatism and fanaticism of the Shia clerics in power, that community has been persecuted more savagely than almost any other group.

So, you have the persecution of the poor through economic means, the persecution of the Baha’is for religious reasons, and of course the situation of women, who have effectively been treated as second-class citizens since the beginning of the revolution. They have been fighting for very basic rights for a very long time. And just three years ago, during the Women, Life, Freedom movement, they finally managed to force the state to abandon the enforcement of compulsory hijab—though at enormous cost—after months of civil protests across the country.

So, this is also a form of gender apartheid. You have extreme economic discrimination against the poor, religious discrimination against minorities, and what amounts to a flat-out system of gender apartheid from which women have suffered enormously over the last half century.

Iran Regime Is Not a Well-Oiled Machine, It Is Corroded by Corruption

You have often suggested that repression in Iran operates through mundane institutional routines rather than overt ideological fanaticism. To what extent does this resemble Hannah Arendt’s notion of the “banality of evil,” where ordinary bureaucratic practices normalize authoritarian violence?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think there is an important difference there. In Arendt’s articulation of the banality of evil, it emerges from a bureaucratic machine that actually functions extremely well. You have a system whose cogs rotate together very efficiently. The Nazi extermination process was, in that sense, a highly organized and well-oiled machine. Every officer was a small cog within that machine, carrying out their assigned tasks without really reflecting on the consequences of what they were doing.

In the case of Iran, however, what you see is incompetence—sheer incompetence. Part of the problem is that the state has essentially collapsed, and its bureaucratic institutions are no longer functioning properly. There is so much corruption, so much nepotism, and so much discrimination based on factors such as religious beliefs, social background, or political loyalty—especially when it comes to employment in government institutions, even in very basic administrative matters.

Over time, this has corroded the system of governance to such an extent that it simply no longer works effectively. Even very simple things—like renewing a driver’s license or dealing with routine banking procedures—can become extremely frustrating experiences when you live inside Iran.

So, the way government authority grates on people’s nerves stems less from a highly efficient bureaucratic machine and more from pervasive incompetence and corruption, rather than from a system operating smoothly but devoid of moral reflection.

No One Has Damaged Persian Literature More Than the Islamic Republic

Drawing on your own experience with literary censorship, how does the state’s control over cultural production shape not only what can be said publicly but also what can be imagined politically? In other words, how does censorship function as a technology of power over narrative and collective imagination?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: There is another irony here. The state in Iran has always prided itself on having a kind of nationalist element. They made a great deal out of independence when you go back to the beginning of the revolution. The main slogan was “Independence, freedom, the Islamic Republic.” So, independence came first. There was always a kind of Islamic nationalism embedded within the discourse. And the Persian language was always part of that. Especially Mr. Khamenei, the supreme leader who was recently killed—he was very much into Persian poetry. He was a very skilled orator, a very good speaker, and he knew Persian very well. They were enamored with Persian literature and the history of Persian poetry, and so on. Yet no one has damaged the Persian language or launched such a profound assault on Persian literature as the Islamic Republic has through censorship.

I am just one example. Until I was 30 years old, I was a writer in Iran. I published a number of books and many articles, and I loved writing in my mother tongue. But they basically forced me out of Iran. At some point after the Green Movement, it became impossible to continue living there. So, I had to move out of Iran—first to Australia and then to the United States—and I had to switch to writing in English.

I am just one small example. I could have contributed to that language and to that literary culture. I could have added something to it. I was doing well there as a writer. But over extremely small and trivial issues, the censorship office started banning my books, and they effectively took away my job as a newspaper writer. So, I had to leave. And I am just one example among thousands of writers like me who loved that language and that culture and were more than willing to contribute to it and devote their lives to it. But the state did not want us around.

Through censorship, what has happened is an extreme weakening of the Persian language itself. When you talk about political imagination, language is crucial. When a language is battered for so long—when it has been depleted of its resources through censorship for half a century—it inevitably loses many of its tools. Its toolbox becomes depleted.

Some of those tools have started to return since the emergence of the internet, but it is very different to have a formal written culture in a society than to have a writing culture mainly on social media. These are two very different phenomena.

What the state has done is to erode the abilities and capabilities of the Persian language, which historically has been a very strong force in maintaining the fabric of Iranian society. Through that erosion, they have negatively affected not only Iranian culture and literature but also the broader cohesion of Iranian society as a whole.

Military Intervention Often Pushes the Will of the People to the Margins

Large poster of Mahsa Amini displayed by the Iranian Diaspora Collective in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City, November 23, 2022. Photo: Erin Alexis Randolph / Dreamstime.

In the context of the ongoing confrontation between Iran and the US–Israel alliance, how might external military pressure reshape internal political dynamics? Historically, do wars weaken authoritarian regimes by exposing their fragility, or strengthen them by mobilizing nationalism and securitizing dissent?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: It is very hard to say now. We are right in the middle of the war, and it is very unclear how it will turn out—at least it is unclear to me. Right now, there are so many contradictory accounts and reports about who has the upper hand, whose military is in a weaker position, who is running out of ammunition, and who is running out of defensive shields, and so on. So, it is very difficult to draw conclusions at this point.

But at the end of the day, we have many examples of military intervention, especially in Middle Eastern countries, and none of them have ended well. The way events are unfolding now can already be seen in the recent quarrel over the selection of the next Supreme Leader.

The Assembly—the council of elders, as it is sometimes called in Iran—consists of the people who choose the next leader. There are about 80 very old clerics, all men and all clerics. They are very old and do not represent Iranian society in any meaningful way. In fact, they are about as far removed from Iranian society as possible, yet they are tasked with choosing the next leader. So, whoever they choose will have nothing to do with the Iranian people. It does not matter who it is; it is simply not a democratic process.

On the other hand, you have Donald Trump, who just yesterday said that he wants to have a say in choosing the next Supreme Leader of Iran. He almost sounded as if he meant it, so I will take him at his word. He said something like, “I need to be there when they choose the next Supreme Leader. I want to have a say.”

So, you see two entities talking about selecting the Supreme Leader—the highest political position in Iran—and neither of them has anything to do with the Iranian people. This is often what happens in the aftermath of military intervention. The will of the people becomes the last thing that counts. The agency of the Iranian population is already pushed aside, unless, after this war, they somehow manage to reclaim it.

A Political Vacuum Could Activate Long-Dormant Ethnic Fault Lines

One of the most catastrophic scenarios involves state fragmentation, separatist mobilization, and armed conflict across border regions. Given Iran’s complex ethnic landscape—including Kurds, Baluch, Arabs, Azeris, etc.—how real is the risk of civil conflict if state authority weakens, and what might a pluralistic settlement look like in such conditions?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: That’s another thing I can’t really say. I have no idea how that will turn out. Iran is a little different from other Middle Eastern countries that have this sort of ethnic tension, in that it has existed within roughly the same borders for about 400 years now. I mean, it has lost some territories over time, but since the Safavid era in the 17th century, Iran has largely remained the same territorial entity that it is today. It is smaller than it was back then, but the core of the country has remained intact.

In this area, all of the ethnic minorities you mentioned have been living together fairly peacefully for hundreds of years. So, Iran is not a colonial construction in the same way that Syria or Iraq are. Because of that, there is more cohesion and a greater possibility of coexistence. Civil war and ethnic conflict are probably less likely in Iran than people sometimes assume, given the long history of these communities living together for many centuries.

But when you have a political vacuum at the center, combined with a deep accumulation of discontent and rage toward the central government, anything can happen. When you bring down a sledgehammer on a society—or a double-stage sledgehammer, both from the government and from a foreign invader—you activate all these fault lines that may have been dormant for centuries, perhaps even millennia. Those fault lines can then produce tremors and earthquakes here and there. How destructive they might become is anyone’s guess. But they could potentially end up destroying this political entity that has existed for many centuries.

When Soldiers Defect, the End of the Regime May Be Near

Lastly, Professor Arian, looking ahead over the next months, what early-warning indicators should observers watch—elite defections, labor strikes, inflation thresholds, prison dynamics, clerical positioning, IRGC cohesion, or international mediation—to determine which trajectory Iran is moving toward? And do you see the emergence of a “fifth scenario,” a hybrid outcome that analysts currently underestimate?

Dr. Amir Ahmadi Arian: I think defection, definitely. Defection—and also what you mentioned about IRGC cohesion, which is kind of synonymous with defection. As I said before, the government in Iran has been reduced to a security force. Right now, more than anything, it is essentially a military entity that is fighting both its own people and the United States and Israel. So, labor strikes are a fantasy at this point. Under bombs, no one can organize a labor strike.

And what the clerics say or think really does not matter anymore. In this situation, you always have to look at the armed forces—the people in uniform. If you see any form of substantial defection in their ranks, both in terms of rank and numbers—meaning defections among high-ranking officers as well as a significant number of personnel—then I think that would be the strongest indication that regime collapse is imminent. But as long as you do not see that, other scenarios should still be considered. I think defection is the key sign we should be looking for.

Professor Elin Bjarnegård.

Prof. Bjarnegård: Gender Will Become a Central Fault Line Between Liberal Democracy and Authoritarian Populism

In this ECPS interview, Professor Elin Bjarnegård (Uppsala University) argues that gender is no longer a side issue but “a useful, malleable concept for authoritarian leaders”—and will become “an increasingly central fault line” separating liberal democracy from authoritarian populism. Moving beyond a simple backlash thesis, she shows how regimes alternate between ‘genderbashing’ and ‘genderwashing’, weaponizing equality talk for legitimacy at home and abroad. Professor Bjarnegård also links democratic backsliding to gendered intimidation, online harassment, and what she calls “sexual corruption.” Noting that the Epstein files revealed abuses “in the corridors of power” in democratic settings too, she warns that personalistic rule heightens risk—especially the “impunity surrounding them.” She urges resisting polarization, scrutinizing symbols, and asking where gender concretely matters in policy.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In an era marked by democratic erosion and the global rise of authoritarian populism, gender politics has emerged not merely as a cultural battleground but as a strategic axis of regime competition. In this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Elin Bjarnegård of Uppsala University argues that gender will increasingly function as a defining fault line separating liberal democratic governance from authoritarian populist rule. Moving beyond conventional explanations that frame anti-gender politics primarily as ideological backlash, Professor Bjarnegård emphasizes the instrumentalization of gender as a tool of political survival, legitimacy, and international signaling. As she explains, “gender becomes a useful, malleable concept for authoritarian leaders—a powerful symbol that can be mobilized for regime purposes,” underscoring how strategic deployment rather than doctrinal conviction often drives contemporary gender politics.

This strategic perspective helps explain why gender rights are likely to intensify as a central arena of geopolitical and normative contestation. Professor Bjarnegård anticipates that “gender rights, or perhaps the strategic use of gender, will become an increasingly central fault line,” not only because of ideological polarization but also because gender provides an “easy, simplistic narrative to deploy strategically” in polarized societies. Such narratives enable regimes to oscillate between exclusionary rhetoric and symbolic inclusion, reinforcing domestic authority while communicating selectively with international audiences.

The interview also highlights the darker governance implications of weakened accountability in populist and authoritarian systems, particularly regarding gendered abuses of power. Drawing on her concept of “sexual corruption,” Professor Bjarnegård reframes such abuses as systemic governance failures rather than isolated misconduct. Referencing the recent release of the Epstein files, she cautions against simplistic regime-type explanations, noting that “these gendered abuses of authority have also proliferated in the corridors of power in predominantly democratic contexts in Europe and the United States.” Yet she stresses that personalistic rule and eroded oversight create heightened risks in authoritarian settings, where such systems are “more at risk both of experiencing these gendered abuses and, perhaps especially, of the impunity surrounding them—of people not reporting them, of them remaining unseen, and of not being addressed.” This dynamic speaks directly to the broader vulnerability of populist authoritarian governance to gendered exploitation and unaccountable power.

More broadly, Professor Bjarnegård situates these patterns within a continuum of gendered violence that includes psychological intimidation, reputational attacks, and digitally mediated harassment—forms of coercion that undermine democratic participation without overt repression. Taken together, her analysis suggests that gender politics is becoming a diagnostic lens through which scholars can assess democratic resilience, institutional integrity, and the trajectory of global political competition. The interview thus positions gender not as a peripheral social issue but as a central structural dimension of contemporary struggles between liberal democracy and authoritarian populism.

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

Gender Is a Strategic Resource for Authoritarian Survival

Gender equality.
Illustration: Dreamstime.

Professor Elin Bjarnegård, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In your scholarship, you argue that authoritarian leaders treat gender not primarily as ideology but as a strategic resource for regime survival. How does this perspective revise dominant interpretations of populism’s relationship to gender politics beyond the conventional “backlash against feminism” thesis?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: Thank you for that question. I would say that what this perspective really adds is a strategic dimension. It is not that we want to suggest there is no ideology involved—of course ideology plays a role. The relationship between populism and gender politics, and the backlash narrative in particular, still has analytical value. However, what is often overlooked is the presence of a very important strategic component. That is what we seek to foreground by adding this strategic dimension to the equation.

So we are not arguing that ideology is irrelevant, but rather that strategy deserves more attention. In this sense, gender becomes a useful, malleable concept for authoritarian leaders—a powerful symbol that can be mobilized for regime purposes.

From an ideological perspective, one must focus on policy positions and attempts to persuade opponents. A strategic perspective, by contrast, emphasizes negotiation and maneuvering. This is why I believe it is an important lens to introduce. It opens possibilities for collaboration in a polarized world and encourages us to see political opponents as actors with whom dialogue remains possible, particularly when we recognize the strategic component of their actions.

Gender Equality as Both Shield and Weapon in Global Politics

Your work distinguishes between “genderbashing” and “genderwashing” as complementary authoritarian strategies. Under what structural and international conditions do regimes oscillate between these tactics, and how does the global bundling of democracy and gender equality norms enable such strategic manipulation?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: We see this oscillation, as you say, more clearly now and in recent years because we have had a fairly strong global norm of gender equality for the past three decades or so. That norm is now evaporating, or at least stagnating, and we also see alternative norms emerging. As the global order itself is increasingly questioned, the norm of gender equality is likewise being challenged. In a multipolar world, actors may view gender mainstreaming—as promoted by the UN or the EU—as no longer the only legitimate path. This creates space, particularly for authoritarian actors, to use gender equality as an instrument to portray themselves as modern, progressive, or even democratic, especially since gender equality and democracy have long been bundled together in major democracy-promotion efforts.

At the same time, however, this shift opens the door to a different interpretation, in which gender is used to distance regimes from global institutions such as the UN and the EU by rejecting what they frame as the foreign imposition of values in favor of traditional family norms. What was once a relatively stable landscape—where countries knew their allies, audiences, and signaling targets—has become more fluid. States now communicate simultaneously with multiple audiences. As a result, the same country may present itself as supportive of gender equality and committed to combating violence against women on the one hand, while simultaneously promoting homophobic narratives to justify, for example, military engagement with other countries.

Feminationalism Turns Inclusion Into a Weapon

Feminism.
Photo: Dreamstime.

 

Many populist actors claim to defend women’s rights selectively — for instance, against migrants or minorities — while undermining broader gender equality. How does this selective emancipation differ from classical authoritarian gender politics, and what dilemmas does it pose for liberal and intersectional feminism?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: This type of politics—sometimes called feminationalism, or homonationalism, depending on the target group—is also part of the broader package I mentioned earlier about bringing strategy into gender politics and into authoritarian politics. It is a clear illustration of how highly strategic these dynamics can be, because in these narratives, inclusion is deployed, as you say, only selectively or strategically—and ultimately for the purpose of excluding certain groups.

If the intersectional perspective, as originally conceived, aimed to ensure that we identify the most vulnerable groups and recognize multiple systems of oppression so that people do not fall between the cracks but instead benefit from policies designed to protect them, this type of feminationalism—or the selective defense of women’s rights deployed against minorities, for instance—does the opposite: it pits these systems of oppression against each other.

In a way, it draws on our knowledge about intersectional layers of oppression but turns them against one another, claiming, for example, that gender equality and women’s rights are under threat from migration. The dilemma it poses is quite similar to that of genderbashing and genderwashing. Insofar as there is a solution, it requires caution. We need to scrutinize these narratives carefully and be specific—not simply respond to symbolism or easy answers, but examine what is actually being claimed and who is being favored—in order to look beyond the strategy.

Militarized Masculinity Fuels Authoritarian Appeal

Your research on militarized masculinity suggests that patriarchal norms can coexist with formal democratic institutions and fuel political violence. How does the persistence of such masculinist political cultures help explain the gendered appeal of authoritarian populism across diverse contexts?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: I think masculinist cultures are both persistent, as you say, and increasingly revealing themselves and being strengthened in many places. We can begin with the fact that they coexist with, and also exist within, democratic settings. Democratic institutions were originally built by men, for men, and are imbued with male norms; studies of feminist institutionalism, for instance, have made this argument for a long time. Patriarchal norms have therefore always coexisted, to some extent, with formal democratic institutions. However, they have been challenged in recent decades, and they certainly vary and take different forms across contexts.

Many of us associate the political with masculinity to such an extent that it becomes difficult to pinpoint. While there has been significant focus on women in politics, there has been far less attention to men and masculinity in politics. Several research projects in Europe are now examining political science questions from a masculinity perspective, reflecting the rise of new forms of hegemonic and militarized masculinities that make clear the need for deeper understanding. “Men4Them” is one such project, examining radicalized young men as well as leadership and the spillover effects between the two. As part of this project, we seek both to understand the masculine ideals that politicians and leaders attempt to embody and, importantly, how these ideals can be transformed. We know change is possible: not long ago, in my country, Sweden, party leaders competed to present themselves as feminists, which is no longer the case.

This shift is likely related to the broader global order. We see geopolitical tensions and increasing militarization, alongside a reversal of the movement from soft power toward hard power. Narratives emphasizing traditionally masculine traits—such as strength over cooperation—are returning. Research shows these cultures have always existed, but what is striking today is that they are once again becoming, if not hegemonic, at least highly prominent.

Protection Narratives and the Return of Strongman Politics

Women rally in Istanbul.
Women rally in Istanbul to protest proposed anti-abortion legislation by then–Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, June 18, 2012. Photo: Sadık Güleç.

Relatedly, how do hypermasculine narratives and honor ideologies shape the emotional and symbolic appeal of strongman leadership, particularly among male constituencies experiencing status anxiety in periods of social transformation?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: This goes back again to the question we have just discussed, because, of course, it is about leadership and about what an ideal leader is supposed to be in a specific context at a particular point in time. But as I mentioned, it is really important to consider the spillover and interaction between leaders and their constituents. There is a constant interplay between the two.

In this context of status anxiety and social transformation, there is a great deal of fear and uncertainty, which tends to favor the presentation of easy solutions to complex problems. I think one of the easiest sentiments to mobilize is a sense of lost entitlement, and looking back at traditional gender roles can provide a feeling of security.

These honor ideologies often build on an idea of protection, which speaks to a basic need for security. At the same time, we need to scrutinize this and critically examine strongman ideology. Protection may be necessary, but the key question becomes who is positioned to protect whom. It also relies on a separation between genders and assigns different values to them. This reflects a return to hard-power narratives that signal traditional strongman characteristics—protection achieved not through collaboration, but through the display of force, coercion, and strength.

Online Gendered Abuse Threatens Electoral Integrity

You have shown that violence against women in politics often operates along a continuum that includes psychological intimidation and reputational attacks. How does this less visible violence function as an informal mechanism of democratic backsliding even in electoral regimes?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: Violence against women, as well as violence against political actors in general, operates along this continuum. But we do see that violence against political actors has gendered components.

Specifically, if we look at those gendered components and include the continuum you mentioned, it becomes important to recognize violations that occur not only physically but also psychologically and online, because the types of reputation-damaging slander that women and men encounter are fundamentally different in character. It is not that men are protected online—that is not the case—but if we examine the types of slander campaigns deployed against men and women politicians, we see that, to a much larger extent, women politicians face narratives targeting them as persons, often highly sexualized and directed at their family members, whereas men are more often, sometimes harshly and unfairly, criticized for their policy stances or political positions.

I, therefore, think it is important to demonstrate this continuum and to include psychological intimidation and reputational attacks, because they can be equally damaging to democratic procedures. They reflect a similar readiness to violate democratic integrity as physical forms of violence. Although such actions may not violate bodily integrity to the same extent as physical violence, they certainly violate personal integrity just as much. If we are concerned with threats to democracy and with disrespect for democratic procedures and institutions, I believe that violations occurring online must also be included in that continuum.

Homosocial Recruitment Sustains Male Dominance in Populist Parties

Your feminist institutionalist research highlights how informal party networks and homosocial recruitment reproduce male dominance. To what extent do populist radical right parties intensify these exclusionary mechanisms compared to mainstream parties?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: It is a difference in degree rather than in kind. In general, what we see in parties and organizations alike is that if you only or primarily network with like-minded people who tend to think, act, and behave like you, and if you mainly recognize competence in those you perceive as similar to yourself, you may be able to shape a very strong and coherent message. Collaboration may be smooth in that group, and you will be surrounded by people who agree with you.

But you will not have broad representation, you will not hear other perspectives, and you will not be challenged by—or learn from—others. Insofar as populist radical right parties tend to build more on loyalties than on representational claims, and more on personal relationships than on bureaucratic recruitment procedures, we can certainly see this type of homosocial recruitment producing male dominance there as well. It becomes a kind of celebration of like-mindedness rather than a reflection of a diversity of ideas. This plays a significant role in the masculine dominance we observe both among constituents and within these parties themselves.

Gender Equality as a Tool of Authoritarian Legitimacy

Giorgia Meloni.
Giorgia Meloni, Prime Minister of Italy and leader of the Fratelli d’Italia party, speaks at an electoral rally ahead of the national elections in Turin, Italy, September 13, 2022. Photo: Antonello Marangi / Dreamstime.

Authoritarian regimes sometimes increase women’s descriptive representation through quotas while simultaneously restricting civil liberties. Does such symbolic inclusion risk legitimizing illiberal rule by projecting an image of progress without substantive empowerment?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: That is exactly the risk of what my colleague Per Setterberg and I have come to call autocratic genderwashing, especially when this descriptive representation does not lead to substantive representation, or when it is limited and includes only women affiliated with the government, for instance.

In many places, with Rwanda perhaps as one of the clearest examples, we do see that the introduction of gender quotas really boosts the representation of women. But if we take a closer look, we see that it mainly boosts the representation of government-affiliated women. This then leads to an even stronger electoral dominance of an already dominant authoritarian party, at the same time as it generates goodwill and international prestige, because the country is seen as favoring and promoting gender equality and women’s representation. It can present itself as modern and progressive and, interestingly enough, because of this bundling of democracy and gender, even as a democratic country.

All the while, if we look more closely at what happens behind the scenes, we also know that this is a country that keeps jailing opponents, restricting civil liberties, and remains authoritarian. So it is about taking a closer look and considering what kinds of signals they are able to send and who this reform actually favors. It can be that it favors both. We can end up in tricky situations where a gender equality reform improves conditions for women—perhaps for a select group of women, but nevertheless for women—while at the same time strengthening the hold on power of an autocratic regime.

That is, in a way, an impossible conundrum we are faced with, but we nevertheless have to recognize it. That is really what we hope to spur discussion on: not to see it as one thing or the other, or simply accept the image these regimes want to portray, but to recognize these value clashes, these conundrums, and discuss what we should do in such cases.

Democratization Does Not Automatically Deliver Gender Equality

Your work suggests democratization does not automatically produce gender equality and may even coexist with patriarchal power structures. How should scholars rethink linear assumptions linking democratic transitions to women’s rights advancements?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: In principle, if you ask most scholars, my guess would be that this linear assumption has been rethought. At the same time, it remains a very relevant question, because versions of it still persist in people’s minds. Even when asked explicitly, people may not believe in a strictly linear progression where one development automatically produces the other. As I have often noted, in democracy promotion and in discussions about how to advance democracy, the inclusion of women has become a core component.

While many would define democracy as something that cannot exist without the proper inclusion of all groups—and the inclusion of women is, of course, necessary and important for a genuine democracy—it does not follow that inclusion can compensate for a lack of competition. This is where we have often gone wrong, allowing inclusion to substitute for the absence of political competition in the eyes of the international community, for instance.

Looking back historically, if we examine the issue more closely, some cosmetic gender-equality reforms—for example, in many communist countries where equality was a prominent ideological principle and women were relatively well represented in parliament—did not make those systems democratic. We have also seen in many contexts that women played crucial roles in democratic transition movements, only to be marginalized once parties and institutions were established. The relationship is therefore far more complex than the linear assumption suggests. At the same time, the connection is not entirely absent, because inclusion remains an important principle of democracy; it is simply not the only one.

Sexual Corruption Is a Systemic, Not Isolated, Problem

Jeffrey Epstein
Float featuring a caricature of Jeffrey Epstein and the slogan “Everyone protected the criminals and ignored the victims” at the Rosenmontag carnival parade in Düsseldorf, North Rhine-Westphalia. Photo: Elena Frolova / Dreamstime.

Your concept of “sexual corruption” reframes gendered abuses of authority as governance failures rather than isolated misconduct. Do such practices proliferate under populist or authoritarian rule where institutional accountability mechanisms are weakened?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: Yes, such practices proliferate anywhere institutional accountability mechanisms are weak. But then again, as the recent release of the Epstein files, for instance, has clearly demonstrated, these gendered abuses of authority have also proliferated in the corridors of power in predominantly democratic contexts in Europe and the United States. So it is not as simple as a matter of them and us when it comes to sexual corruption and this kind of gendered abuse of power. The problem exists everywhere.

Interestingly, it has perhaps received the most attention in areas like Sub-Saharan Africa, where there have been significant campaigns against practices such as teachers handing out grades in exchange for sex. But we have to look at different contexts and recognize that they carry different types of risks in different areas.

Insofar as your question concerns populist and authoritarian rule, these systems generally have a greater propensity to overlook institutional accountability mechanisms in favor of, as we discussed earlier, more personalistic loyalties. They are therefore certainly more at risk both of experiencing these gendered abuses and, perhaps especially, of the impunity surrounding them—of people not reporting them, of them remaining unseen, and of not being addressed.

Digital Harassment as a Tool to Exclude Women from Politics

How are online harassment, disinformation, and gendered hate speech transforming the authoritarian toolkit, particularly as methods for discouraging women’s political participation without overt repression?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: Yes, we talked a bit about this earlier when we discussed the continuum of violence, which of course includes psychological forms of violence, intimidation, and hate speech that increasingly take place online. The use of technology in this type of harassment, disinformation, and hate speech is making an already effective and efficient authoritarian toolkit even more efficient, because it gives it wider reach, causes more harm than before, and can project images and ideas that are simply not true.

The fact that these violations have increasingly moved online, or are also spread online, means that technology is now used both to spread fear and to disseminate propaganda in new ways. It also represents a move away from ideological discussion, because it often disregards ideological stances entirely, relying instead on targeted messaging and algorithms to influence different groups in a particular direction, making it more like marketing than politics in a sense. It is not about convincing people; it is about moving them in a specific direction, even if it means misinforming them. This is an area where the authoritarian toolkit is clearly expanding. For women’s political participation, as well as participation in general, we see a number of new methods emerging here.

Trumpism Normalized Anti-Gender Rhetoric Globally

MAGA
Woman wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat prays at a “Stop the Steal” rally in Helena, Montana, on November 7, 2020, in support of Donald Trump and claims that the election was stolen by Joe Biden. Photo: Dreamstime.

From a comparative perspective, how do you evaluate the global impact of Donald Trump’s presidency on gender politics? Did Trumpism normalize gender-based rhetoric and policy rollbacks that other populist leaders subsequently emulated?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: It is almost hard to overestimate the impact, but nevertheless I think that what we see happening in the US did not come from nowhere. There was already a platform for this kind of discussion. Political leaders like Putin, Orbán, and Erdoğan had already drawn media attention for both sexist remarks and derogatory statements about what they called “gender ideology,” a broad concept often deployed to describe perceived threats to gender equality against traditional family values. So I think that during Donald Trump’s second term in office, he could simply follow these already existing international narratives, and he did so even in his inaugural address. He vowed to dismantle gender mainstreaming and announced an executive order for government agencies to remove statements, policies, and regulations that promote or otherwise incorporate gender ideology.

This is certainly rhetoric he could build on, and we could say that sometimes it functions mainly as a strategy to align himself with certain parts of the population while distancing himself from others. But the potential danger with these narratives, and with genderbashing in general, is that to be a credible leader, one sometimes also has to follow through. We see that in the US: it has not just stopped at rhetoric. We have also seen the dismantling of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives across various sectors.

This shows that he had a platform to build on and could follow suit, but when both this rhetoric and these policy rollbacks occur in the US, they also normalize these types of discussions and narratives, portraying gender not necessarily as something positive but as something potentially dangerous and harmful.

The Rise and Fall of Sweden’s Feminist Foreign Policy

Sweden’s feminist foreign policy was widely seen as a pioneering normative project yet was later discontinued. What does this reversal reveal about the resilience — or fragility — of gender-progressive policies amid shifting political coalitions and populist radical right pressures?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: Sweden’s feminist foreign policy is an interesting case in point because it vividly illustrates how much the world has changed in just a few years. When the feminist foreign policy was first adopted and launched in Sweden in 2014, it was the first of its kind. It was, as you said, seen as pioneering. We were in a world where being feminist was seen as a good thing and where this was something people competed over in Sweden and elsewhere, and we could also see that a lot of countries followed suit. It is a bit difficult to know exactly what constitutes a feminist foreign policy, but at least 15 or 16 other countries declared, in one way or another, that they also wanted to pursue a feminist foreign policy.

But then, just a few years later, in 2022, when we had a new government, the very first thing they did was to withdraw the feminist foreign policy, claiming that they were not against gender equality but against these labels, which were more about showcasing and using the word feminist than about actually doing things. It is interesting that the first country in the world to adopt a feminist foreign policy was also the first country in the world to withdraw it, and it is very symptomatic of the development we are seeing.

I think it goes back to many of the issues we discussed, particularly the potential danger that gender as a word, and gender equality as a norm, has been so all-encompassing. In gender mainstreaming, for instance, it has been something said to apply to all sectors, all policies, and all genders. In the success story of gender equality over the past few decades, we may have run the risk of not being specific enough, of not saying what matters and why it matters. That leaves the door open for interpretations, misinterpretations, and adaptations of what gender as this big concept actually is and could be.

That is what we are seeing now, and it explains why leaders can juxtapose using gender equality as a good thing with using gender ideology as a bad thing, oscillating between the two, because it is not necessarily clear what it is supposed to mean. That is also why it has been difficult, to some extent, to evaluate policies like the feminist foreign policy. But what we did see is that it was, at least, more than a label. It did change the way things were carried out in Swedish foreign policy, even though it was in place for only a few years.

Gender Rights as the Next Global Fault Line

And lastly, Professor Bjarnegård, looking ahead, do you anticipate that gender rights will become an increasingly central fault line in the global contest between liberal democracy and authoritarian populism — and what forms might meaningful resistance and democratic renewal take?

Professor Elin Bjarnegård: That is the million-dollar question. I do, unfortunately, anticipate that gender rights, or perhaps the strategic use of gender, will become an increasingly central fault line. But I also think that this is why the strategic component we are trying to remind people of is important, because it means that we can find areas where it may not be all about sexism, misogyny, and ideological differences, but also about how gender has become a useful, easy, and simplistic narrative to deploy strategically.

If we try to resist not by increasing polarization but rather by finding spaces for negotiation and discussion, it helps—at least it does for me—to think that part of this is strategy, not only ideological conviction. I really think the first step is to be a bit more cautious whenever we see people speaking about gender, either in the form of potential genderbashing—building this large phantasm of so-called gender ideology—or genderwashing, emphasizing all the good things a country or regime has done for gender equality. We should be careful not to fall into the trap of letting gender become a single, overarching symbol, but instead try to be specific: where and how does it matter in a particular policy area?

Sometimes we also have to be clear about the trade-offs and value clashes that are part of politics. We cannot always have everything that is good, and not everything that is good is compatible. At least for me, looking back at the past decades, it has been an unprecedentedly positive era for women’s rights, and it is in many ways remarkable that gender equality achieved such status as a global norm. But that also means we now need to take a second look in this different era and ask where we need to be more careful and more specific about why it matters, focusing on concrete issues rather than treating gender merely as a symbol, because it is important for many other reasons as well.

Dr. Nandini Sundar is a Professor of Sociology at the Delhi School of Economics, Delhi University.

Prof. Sundar: Almost Every Institution in India Has Been Subverted to Advance a Supremacist Agenda

In this interview with the ECPS, Professor Nandini Sundar (Delhi School of Economics, Delhi University) delivers a stark assessment of India’s institutional trajectory under the BJP and its ideological parent, the RSS. Her central claim is unequivocal: “Almost every institution in this country has now collapsed, or has been subverted, in order to further the supremacist agenda.” She situates current developments within the longer history of Hindutva ideology, emphasizing the RSS’s founding goal of a Hindu supremacist state. Professor Sundar argues that a narrative of majoritarian victimhood underpins historical revisionism, institutional capture, and restrictions on academic freedom. She also highlights transnational pressures, noting that a “very active Hindutva diaspora” has targeted scholars abroad, constraining research and debate globally.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Nandini Sundar— Professor of Sociology at the Delhi School of Economics, Delhi University, and one of India’s most prominent sociologists and a leading voice on democracy, violence, and state power—offers a stark assessment of the trajectory of Indian institutions under the rule of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological parent, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). Her central claim is unequivocal: “Almost every institution in this country has now collapsed, or has been subverted, in order to further the supremacist agenda.” Situating contemporary developments within the longer history of Hindutva ideology, Professor Sundar argues that the BJP cannot be understood apart from the RSS, “an unregistered, secretive organization” founded in 1925 “to establish a Hindu supremacist state in which all others would be second-class citizens.”

At the heart of this project, she explains, lies a powerful narrative of majoritarian victimhood. RSS discourse portrays Hindus as historical victims of “800 years of colonialism,” conflating Muslim rule with British imperialism and mobilizing a sense of lost civilizational pride. This paradox—an overwhelming majority imagining itself as dispossessed—underpins a wide array of policies, from historical revisionism to institutional capture. According to Professor Sundar, the claim to represent a wronged majority translates into concrete restrictions on academic freedom through ideological appointments, funding pressures, surveillance, and curricular transformation. Universities, in particular, have been reshaped to ensure that “only our narrative, only our voice, should count,” transforming spaces once associated with pluralism into arenas of political conformity and patronage.

The interview highlights how Hindutva governance operates not only through formal state mechanisms but also through diffuse networks of affiliated organizations and vigilante actors. Student groups such as the ABVP (the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad) and other RSS-linked formations function simultaneously as political mobilizers and instruments of intimidation, embedding campuses within what Professor Sundar calls a broader “ecosystem of vigilantism.” Meanwhile, democratic institutions—from courts to electoral bodies and media regulators—are portrayed as formally intact yet substantively hollowed out, enabling what she describes as the preservation of democratic form alongside the erosion of democratic substance.

Professor Sundar also draws attention to the transnational dimension of these dynamics. A “very active Hindutva diaspora,” she notes, has targeted scholars abroad, orchestrating harassment campaigns and reputational attacks that restrict academic inquiry on India globally. As a result, she warns, it has become “very difficult for anyone working on India to be able to research, write, and think freely, whether inside the country or outside the country.”

Taken together, her analysis presents Hindutva not merely as a domestic political ideology but as a comprehensive project of institutional transformation, cultural redefinition, and epistemic control. By foregrounding the links between majoritarian resentment, institutional subversion, and the policing of knowledge, this interview offers a sobering account of how democratic systems can be repurposed to sustain exclusionary rule while maintaining the appearance of constitutional continuity.

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

The BJP Cannot Be Understood Apart from the RSS and Its Supremacist Project

A man chanting songs with a dummy cow in the background during the Golden Jubilee
celebration of VHP – a Hindu nationalist organization on December 20, 2014 in Kolkata, India. Photo: Arindam Banerjee.

Professor Nandini Sundar, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In your recent work on majoritarian resentment and the inversion of victimhood, how do you conceptualize the BJP’s claim to represent a historically wronged “majority,” and how does that claim translate into concrete restrictions on academic freedom (appointments, funding, policing, curricula)?

Professor Nandini Sundar: The BJP was founded by the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), an unregistered, secretive organization that has proliferated into many different fronts—education, labor, and virtually every sector, each with its own affiliated bodies. The BJP is the political wing of the RSS, which was founded exactly 100 years ago, in 1925, to establish a Hindu supremacist state in which all others would be second-class citizens.

If you look at RSS literature, it consistently portrays Hindus as victims suffering from what they call 800 years of colonialism, because they conflate periods of Muslim rule with British colonialism. This reflects a deep sense that India was ruled by Muslim rulers for many centuries and that a lost Hindu pride must now be regained. The past they invoke—often framed as a glorious Vedic age—overlooks the fact that ancient India consisted of many different communities practicing a variety of religions, rather than a unified “Hindu” civilization.

This constructed sense of victimhood, despite Hindus being the overwhelming majority—over 80 percent of the population—translates into efforts to rewrite history, for example by erasing the Mughal period. Yet it is impossible to understand India without considering the Mughal era or the various sultanates that existed from the 12th to the 18th centuries.

It also manifests in demographic anxieties, such as claims that Hindus are being overtaken by Muslims due to allegedly higher Muslim fertility rates—claims that are not supported by empirical evidence, since fertility rates among Muslims have declined sharply and vary across regions. In short, historical narratives, demographic fears, and broader perceptions of victimhood are mobilized together.

As noted, this translates first into historical revisionism. Second, in universities, vacancies have been systematically filled with individuals aligned with their ideology. This is not simply a matter of feeling victimized, because in the past, although the system was not always perfect, there was at least a perception that appointments were based on merit. If their candidates were not selected, it was often due to a lack of scholarly expertise rather than ideological exclusion.

Now, victimhood is invoked to claim that “our people” were neglected while positions were monopolized by the left. In reality, universities have been systematically reshaped to reflect their ideological preferences, and this has also become a source of patronage for their cadre.

Taken together, these developments reveal not only a discourse of victimhood but also a broader assertion of dominance—the belief that they are now the only legitimate force, and that only their narrative and voice should prevail.

Democratic Institutions Have Been Hollowed Out from Within

Shri Narendra Modi.
Indian Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi addressing the Nation on the occasion of 75th Independence Day from the ramparts of Red Fort, in Delhi on August 15, 2021.

In “Inside Modi’s Assault on Academic Freedom,” you trace how formally democratic institutions can be repurposed to discipline dissent. What are the key mechanisms—legal, bureaucratic, and vigilante—through which democratic form is preserved while democratic substance is hollowed out?

Professor Nandini Sundar: Almost every institution in this country has now collapsed, or has been subverted, in order to further the supremacist agenda. If you look at the judiciary—take the Supreme Court, for instance—we have had several BJP chief ministers issuing hate speeches. There was a recent incident involving the chief minister of Assam, which has quite a sizable Muslim minority, putting out a video of him shooting Muslims with a gun, targeting them so that you could see Muslims in the viewfinder being shot at. People took this to the Supreme Court, and the Court refused to intervene, saying that you are only targeting BJP chief ministers, and has basically refused to do anything about hate speech coming from the highest constitutional authorities. If you look at any number of judicial pronouncements in the last decade and a half, they have consistently favored the BJP.

If you look at the Election Commission, which again has been packed with chosen bureaucrats, right now they are conducting a massive exercise across the country to register voters. Historically, everybody who has been living here has been considered a voter, apart from immigrants or others. The onus used to be on the state to find and register voters. Now the onus is on voters to prove that they are citizens of this country and produce birth certificates of their parents, grandparents, their own exam mark sheets, and a whole range of certificates to show that they are indeed genuine citizens. That has led to the disenfranchisement of large numbers—hundreds of thousands of people in each state. For example, about 600,000 in one state. It is just ridiculous, because these are all actual, genuine voters who have not been able to produce the right certificates, often because they are poor, or especially women who migrate. So, you can see that elections, too, are completely controlled by the BJP.

When it comes to the media, if you look at the Modi government’s spending on advertisements, the amount that goes to favored media, and the way that media critical of the government has repeatedly had court cases slapped on them, with independent journalists arrested—every field is under attack. Universities are one major field—higher education in particular, but education more generally—where the BJP and the RSS have been attacking all conventions, all democratic procedures, and installing their own people.

Precarity in Universities Is Undermining Academic Freedom

How do budget cuts, contractualization, and precaritization in higher education function as governance tools—producing compliance not only through ideology, but also through material dependence and career risk?

Professor Nandini Sundar: There’s been a change in the way universities are funded. Many university colleges are being asked to go autonomous, which means that they will be responsible for raising their own funding. This increases fees for students, and at the same time, minority students—say Muslims and Christians who were receiving fellowships—have seen those fellowships cut down. So, there has been a general reduction in student fellowships.

In terms of faculty recruitment, we see that even earlier there were a number of precarious positions—contractual teachers—and that still continues quite widely across private colleges. Precarious teachers, those without fixed contracts, obviously find it hard to be critical of anything that is going on and hard to teach freely. But you also see that now, whenever the precarity issue among teachers has been addressed, those positions have been filled with their own people.

So, in either situation, both among students and among faculty, contractualization and the reduction of fellowships are making it difficult for there to be a strong autonomous voice from students and faculty.

Terror Laws Are Weaponized Against Democratic Protest

Babasaheb Ambedkar Marathwada University (BAMU)
Protest against the CAA and NRC at Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Marathwada University (BAMU), Aurangabad, Maharashtra, India, as students and citizens demonstrate in defense of constitutional rights. Photo: Imran Shaikh.

Many accounts emphasize arrests, sedition/terror charges, and prolonged pre-trial detention. Analytically, how should we understand “process as punishment” as a populist-authoritarian technique of rule in India?

Professor Nandini Sundar: Absolutely. The whole judicial system is designed for process without punishment. If you take the case of Sharjeel Imam and Umar Khalid, two student leaders who have been arrested for over five years now without the case even coming to trial. The charges relate to their involvement in a movement for equal citizenship. In 2019, the government passed an act that would grant citizenship to refugees from every other country except Pakistan and Bangladesh, and to every other religion except Islam. This was also seen as the first step toward disenfranchising Indian Muslims, and there was a massive protest against it—a huge, peaceful, democratic protest, predominantly led by women in many parts of the country, but especially in Delhi.

These students, both from JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University) and from Jamia (Jamia Millia Islamia), were involved in this democratic protest, and it was actually a very powerful democratic moment in this country’s history. But many students—predominantly Muslim students—were arrested. There were many people who took part in that protest, Muslims and Hindus, but only the Muslim students were arrested, and they have been in jail for the last five years. We have recorded speeches from them talking about the need for unity, upholding the Constitution, and love, yet they have been accused under the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, which deals with terror.

They have been accused of terror conspiracies, which is completely ludicrous. The case has not even come to trial, and the evidence against them is completely flimsy. But everyone knows that they are being kept in jail because they are articulate student leaders who had a democratic vision for this country.

Campuses Are Embedded in a Wider Ecosystem of Vigilantism

How do you interpret the role of affiliated organizations (student wings, vigilante groups, informal “sentiment” enforcers) in expanding state capacity to intimidate universities while maintaining deniable distance?

Professor Nandini Sundar: The RSS has the biggest student wing in the whole country, the ABVP, the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad, which has been engaged in a number of attacks on other student organizations. It has also attacked various seminars that have gone against BJP ideology. It functions both as a student wing—providing the kind of membership and mobilization for ordinary student activities that any student organization does—and as a vigilante force.

There are also a number of other fronts of the RSS—the Bajrang Dal, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, and various other wings—which intimidate students and faculty on campuses. This is part of a more generalized surge in vigilantism, as vigilantes have been attacking Muslim traders, Muslims transporting cattle across state boundaries, Muslim shopkeepers, and Christian pastors. There is a whole range of vigilante forces that the RSS tacitly supports and grants immunity and impunity. So, the university is not free of this; it is completely embedded in that wider ecosystem of vigilantism.

Universities Modeling Diversity Became Central Adversaries

Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU).
Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), a public central university in New Delhi, India. Photo: Mrinal Pal.

Why do institutions like JNU become such central targets in majoritarian projects? Is it their historical role in mass politics, their social composition, their epistemic authority—or the way they model pluralism?

Professor Nandini Sundar: All of the above, I should say. Many universities in India were set up as part of a nationalist project. For instance, Jamia, which was established before independence, was founded by nationalist leaders to provide an alternative form of education to the British colonial model, and it has had a very long, rich tradition of scholarship and student mobilization.

JNU was set up in the 1970s on a very distinct model of higher education, where the effort was to bring in students from all across the country, especially from underserved regions. It had an extremely interesting system of deprivation points, whereby students from backward regions would receive extra marks in addition to whatever they obtained in the entrance test. In this way, it managed to achieve a real plurality of students from across the country. They also had excellent faculty, and some departments were truly the best in the country, known for their academic excellence. Even today, it remains one of the strongest universities academically in India.

Partly because of this academic excellence and the pluralism of its students, JNU also developed a very strong left tradition. It is one place where left student unions have consistently won student elections, and it has had a distinctive style of politics in which debates on a wide range of national issues would continue late into the night, alongside campus concerns such as hostel bills, food, accommodation, and fees. So, it has been a very unusual kind of university, an iconic institution for liberal-left education, and that was something the BJP felt it had to attack and destroy.

Rewriting the Past to Control the Nation’s Narrative

How do textbook “rationalization” and selective historical erasure operate as a struggle over national temporality—who gets to narrate the past, and who is authorized to speak for the nation?

Professor Nandini Sundar: The RSS thinks that it is authorized to speak for the nation, and since it has control over the government and textbooks—because under the Indian system education is a matter both for the central (federal) government and for the states—there are also some boards that operate nationally, in addition to the state boards. So, the major producer of textbooks in India is the NCERT, the National Council of Educational Research and Training, which produces textbooks that are then used by these different boards or even used by state boards as models.

What the BJP has been doing is systematically changing these NCERT textbooks. For instance, removing references to caste, removing all traces of Mughal history from middle school textbooks, and giving more space to certain false narratives that promote Hindu rulers at the expense of others. So, it has huge power. I mean, the central government has enormous power to rewrite historical narratives. It is also, if you look at other fields—archaeology, for instance—it underplays the contributions of the South in historical research.

I don’t know how to put it, but it is enormously powerful in rewriting history and rewriting sociology, rewriting politics—everything, really.

National Security as a Catch-All Tool of Suppression

The state’s framing of “internal affairs,” “sensitive issues,” and “national security” often appears deliberately expansive. What does this elasticity reveal about authoritarian boundary-making in the knowledge sphere?

Professor Nandini Sundar: It also reveals something about authoritarian fragility. Just to give you a very recent example. The Wire, which is a news portal, ran a 52-second clip showing Prime Minister Modi running away from Parliament. This was during a debate in Parliament about how he had not taken a resolute stand when the Chinese were coming into India in 2020, and then he claimed that women MPs were threatening to bite him, and that’s why he didn’t attend Parliament. So, this was just a somewhat humorous video about how Modi was supposedly scared of being bitten by women MPs. The Wire’s Instagram page was shut down, there was a privilege motion against them from Parliament, and it was described as a national security issue. Now, there was nothing remotely related to national security about a small cartoon of Modi running away from women MPs.

But anything and everything can be described as a national security issue. People are being arrested, especially journalists in Kashmir, or students in Kashmir, who are really living under a state of terror. It is such a loosely applied concept, and the problem is that the law puts the onus squarely on the person who is accused under such laws. It is very hard to get bail under UAPA (Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act), which is why people like Umar and Sharjeel and other human rights activists in what is called the BK16 case (the 16 individuals locked up without a trial in the Bhima Koregaon case. S.G.), or across the country more generally, are finding it very difficult to get out of this, because they are accused under national security acts.

So, it is a very expansive definition. It is very, very open to abuse, and these laws should have no place in any democracy.

Food, Caste, and Control under Hindutva Governance

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.

Beyond overt ideological control, what is the relationship between Hindutva governance and everyday disciplinary practices (food regimes, hostel rules, policing intimacy), and how do these practices intersect with gendered and caste-based hierarchies?

Professor Nandini Sundar: One of the things that the RSS, the Hindutva regime, has been trying to promote is the idea that India is a vegetarian country, and that people who eat meat are in some way inferior or should not be eating meat. They have been trying to associate that with Muslims and use it to target Muslims or Dalits, who were formerly called untouchables and who are still treated very badly and exploited by the system.

In fact, about 80% of India is non-vegetarian. But this has become a big issue in certain hostels. For instance, some of the Indian Institutes of Technology have had separate messes in hostels for vegetarians and non-vegetarians. In the past, people were free to eat whatever they wanted, and they could sit together and eat, but this kind of segregation creates a hierarchical divide in which those who eat pure vegetarian food are seen as somehow superior, because historically it has also been a caste issue.

There have been student movements against this segregation and hierarchy, but they have again been suppressed by the administration. A lot of what the Hindutva regime is doing is feeding into existing caste and religious prejudices, aggravating them, and creating a hierarchy in which Hindu upper-caste voices are seen as representing the whole nation.

Just another example: for some strange reason—because it is inconceivable that this government would do anything that progressive—the University Grants Commission (UGC), which governs the higher education space, issued rules mandating equity for students from historically discriminated backgrounds, such as Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, minorities, and OBCs (The Other Backward Classes). There was a huge protest against this by upper-caste students, who have been coming out on the streets saying that they are under threat and in danger from this equity movement. The Supreme Court has stayed the equity regulations, and the BJP government is really happy, because it has got the Supreme Court to do so. On the one hand, they put out these UGC equity regulations, but they actually did not want to implement them; their constituency of upper-caste people is against it, and fortunately for them, it has been stayed by the Supreme Court.

So, there is a very neat dovetailing between Hindutva upper-caste ideology and the various practices of this government.

Masculinist Power and the Politics of ‘Teaching a Lesson’

How do masculinist styles of leadership and majoritarian “strength” narratives shape state behavior toward universities—especially in the public performance of punishment, humiliation, and “teaching a lesson”?

Professor Nandini Sundar: It is a very masculinist ideology, and historically the RSS did not have room for women as part of its cadre; there was a separate women’s wing.

If you look at the state of Kashmir, for instance, and education in Kashmir—higher education in particular—the entire process has been about this. In 2019, the state of Jammu and Kashmir was stripped of its constitutional autonomy and reduced from a state to a union territory. The whole thing was couched in terms of teaching them a lesson, because it was seen as a source of terrorism, since it is the only Muslim-majority state in India, and there was a conscious effort to show them their place.

When it comes to universities, Kashmiri students in different parts of the country have been especially targeted and victimized, and again this is very much part of showing Muslims their place, showing Kashmiris their place in India. When it comes to women, there are many more subtle ways in which women have been affected. If you look at the entrance exams, thanks to a new system of multiple-choice entrance exams, the number of women entering colleges has dramatically declined. Even if the government officially says that its policy is inclusive of women studying, in fact many of its practical policies discriminate against women.

People wait in queues to cast votes at a polling station during the 3rd phase of Lok Sabha polls, in Guwahati, India on May 7, 2024. Photo: Hafiz Ahmed.

Targeting Scholars Abroad: Hindutva’s Reach Beyond India

To what extent do you see an externalization of repression—through harassment campaigns, institutional pressure, and reputational attacks—aimed at shaping scholarship on India outside India?

Professor Nandini Sundar: There’s a very active Hindutva diaspora that has been targeting academics who work on India in the US, the UK, and Europe. There was this conference called Dismantling Hindutva some years ago, where the active Hindutva diaspora went after the organizers of the conference. They flooded universities with so much hate mail against faculty members who were part of this conference that some of their servers collapsed.

It is really an organized, very virulent Hindutva diaspora, especially in the US, which has links with Zionists and follows the same sorts of procedures as some of the American far right. Unfortunately for them, the American far right, because they are Christian fundamentalists, has no regard for Hindu fundamentalists, so they are not really sure where they stand now. But they are just a very vicious, virulent lot when it comes to attacking people who are working on India.

For instance, there is an American historian called Audrey Truschke, who writes on Aurangzeb, the last Mughal emperor, and she has been relentlessly attacked. One could name various other people who have been singled out and attacked. The Indian government has also denied visas to a lot of academics working on India. This is really kind of inexplicable, because some of these academics have hugely contributed to the understanding of subjects the government itself promotes. For instance, there is a historian who works on Hindi. Now, the BJP government is insistent that everybody in the country should speak Hindi, that everybody should replace their own languages and know Hindi, yet this historian, who has contributed greatly to the understanding and study of Hindi, was denied a visa. There is absolutely no sense in this, even from their own perspective, because it is not like she was studying anything they would consider anti-national; she was studying Hindi literature.

So, it has become very difficult for anyone working on India to be able to research, write, and think freely, whether inside the country or outside the country.

Recasting the Past for Power

How has the language of decolonization and cultural authenticity been retooled to delegitimate critique—both within India and in global academia—while recoding censorship as civilizational self-defense?

Professor Nandini Sundar: That’s a really good question, because if you look at some of these Hindutva ideologues, they’ve adopted the language of decoloniality to claim that whatever has been done in Indian history, for instance, is colonial because it does not go back to ancient Hindu roots or does not adopt an Indic perspective.

In fact, the BJP or the RSS version of history is itself following a completely colonial template. They have adopted a periodization of Indian history based on Hindu, Muslim, and British India, which is a colonial construct, and that is what they have been following in the name of decolonization.

If you look at one major thrust of their programs, it has been to develop what they call Indic knowledge systems. By Indic knowledge systems, they basically mean Hindu and Vedic knowledge systems. This is something they have been pushing in every syllabus revision process, along with organizing a wide variety of seminars on Indic or Indigenous knowledge systems.

They have actually ignored all the work that has been done over the years, because scholars have already been working on different versions of Indian history and Indian society from a variety of perspectives, many of them indigenous. So, to say that they are coming up with some new framework is actually reinventing the colonial wheel while at the same time claiming that they are adopting some kind of great decolonial epistemology.

A Global Crisis of Academic Freedom Requires Collective Resistance

And lastly, Professor Sundar, given the risks of speaking, organizing, and even researching “sensitive” themes, what forms of collective strategy (professional associations, transnational solidarity, union politics, legal defense infrastructures) do you see as most effective—and what ethical obligations do scholars outside India have in confronting these dynamics without reproducing paternalistic frames?

Professor Nandini Sundar: I don’t think it is about scholars outside India or inside India. I think that scholars across the world are now facing similar threats, whether in Turkey, the US, or Europe. We are all being censored. We are all facing the Palestinian exception—nobody can talk about Palestine or teach about Palestine, not just in the US but in Germany and everywhere.

So, I don’t think there are any easy answers as to what can be done. We are all facing similar kinds of issues, so we need to share across countries how people have dealt with this, and work out ways in which we can collectively keep the university going as a space for research and critical thinking, and above all for teaching freely.

And I have hope that students—not the ABVP type, but ordinary students—are keen and curious about what is actually happening in the world, and I have great hope that students will be the ones who keep the university going. That is something that I think we will all have to face collectively, together across the world.

Professor Benjamin Carter Hett.

Professor Hett: Trump Is Vastly Less Astute and Less Ruthless Than Hitler

Professor Benjamin Carter Hett, a leading historian of Nazi Germany at Hunter College and the Graduate Center, CUNY, joins ECPS to reflect on the promises—and pitfalls—of historical analogy in an age of democratic stress. Grounded in his research on Weimar collapse and authoritarian mobilization, Professor Hett argues that humiliation remains a key driver of populist politics, pointing to Trump’s insistence, “I am your retribution,” as a revealing signal of grievance politics. He also draws sharp structural parallels between Nazi attacks on “the system” and contemporary slogans such as “the swamp,” which work to delegitimize democracy from within. Yet Professor Hett resists false equivalence: Trump, he emphasizes, is “vastly less astute and vastly less ruthless than Hitler,” and lacks “any compelling ideological vision,” remaining “totally improvisatory.” The interview probes elite accommodation, “reality deficits,” and backlash dynamics.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In an era increasingly shaped by populist insurgencies, democratic erosion, and polarized historical analogies, few scholars are better positioned to assess the uses—and abuses—of the past than Professor Benjamin Carter Hett. A leading historian of Nazi Germany at Hunter College and the Graduate Center, CUNY, Professor Hett has devoted his career to analyzing how democratic systems collapse from within. In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), he reflects on the dynamics of authoritarian mobilization, the politics of grievance, and the limits of historical comparison—culminating in his striking assessment that “Trump is, of course, vastly less astute and vastly less ruthless than Hitler.”

Professor Hett’s analysis begins not with institutions but with emotions. Drawing on his research into the Nazi rise to power, he argues that humiliation—rather than ideology alone—often supplies the combustible fuel of authoritarian movements. A “core explanation” for Nazism’s ascent, he explains, was a widespread perception among supporters that they had been “humiliated by domestic elites” and by the settlement of World War I. He sees echoes of this dynamic today: “Substantial segments of the electorate in the United States and in European countries appear to be experiencing a sense of humiliation reminiscent of that felt by many Germans in the interwar period.” Trump’s campaign rhetoric, especially the promise “I am your retribution,” exemplifies how perceived loss of status can be politically weaponized.

Yet the interview’s central theme—highlighted by its title—is not crude equivalence but analytical differentiation. Professor Hett repeatedly underscores that, despite structural parallels, Trump lacks the strategic capacity and ideological coherence that made Hitler historically transformative. Whereas Nazism fused charismatic authority with a totalizing worldview—what Nazis called “the Idea”—Trumpism appears improvisational, transactional, and deeply personalist. This distinction, Professor Hett suggests, limits its authoritarian potential. Trump, he argues, possesses “no compelling ideological vision behind him” and is “totally improvisatory,” driven more by a desire for adulation and material reward than by a programmatic project of domination.

The interview also revisits Professor Hett’s influential argument that democratic breakdown can stem from “hollow victory” as well as defeat. Despite America’s triumph in the Cold War, many citizens experienced globalization, automation, and rising inequality as loss rather than success, producing resentment analogous to the disillusionment that followed World War I. Such grievances, once reframed as cultural humiliation rather than economic hardship, become fertile ground for populist mobilization.

Equally significant is Professor Hett’s discussion of elite miscalculation. Just as conservative elites in Weimar believed they could harness Hitler’s popularity, many contemporary political and economic actors initially treated Trump as a manageable aberration. History, he warns, shows how such bargains can backfire—even when the leader in question is less capable than his predecessors.

Ultimately, Professor Hett’s cautiously optimistic conclusion is that the very differences highlighted in the title—Trump’s relative lack of ruthlessness, ideological depth, and strategic discipline—may also constitute democracy’s resilience. Historical patterns may rhyme, he suggests, but they do not mechanically repeat.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor Benjamin Carter Hett, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

Humiliation as the Hidden Engine of Authoritarian Politics

Adolf Hitler.
A copy of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf (My Struggle), displayed alongside a portrait of the author at the Technology, Aviation and Military Museum in Sinsheim, Germany. Photo: Gepapix | Dreamstime.

Professor Benjamin Carter Hett, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In “The Power of Grievance,” you frame humiliation as the animating force behind authoritarian mobilization. How does this concept refine—or challenge—more institutional explanations of democratic breakdown in The Death of Democracy, particularly in the US case where institutions remain formally intact?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: Let me begin by saying that I am primarily a historian and a scholar of 20th-century Germany, particularly of the rise of the Nazis. From extensive research on the Nazis’ ascent in Germany during the 1920s and 1930s—I’ve written three books on the subject, among other works—I came to the conclusion that a core explanation for their rise was a widespread sense of humiliation among their constituency: humiliation at the hands of domestic elites, humiliation imposed by the victorious Allies of World War I, and so on.

Given what I do for a living, and the times we are living in, I am often asked about parallels between that historical episode and contemporary developments. The more I examined current events and read widely on American and European politics today, the more I felt that the explanation for much of what is happening now is broadly similar. Substantial segments of the electorate in the United States and in European countries appear to be experiencing a sense of humiliation reminiscent of that felt by many Germans in the interwar period.

As for how this perspective modifies the outlook: there are, of course, countless possible explanations for the rise of authoritarianism. Some are economic-structural, others political, social-psychological, or cultural—suggesting that certain societies may be predisposed to particular forms of authoritarian politics. Nothing in scholarship is ever absolute, and elements of all these factors are likely present in any given case where authoritarianism gains electoral traction.

But, for what it is worth, I am persuaded that if you return to what politicians are actually saying to people—and examine the resulting voting behavior in context—you repeatedly encounter the theme of humiliation. There are many examples we could discuss, but one is particularly telling: the fact that Trump campaigned so heavily on the claim, “I am your retribution.” What do his voters need retribution for? It suggests that they feel they have experienced a significant degree of humiliation in recent years or decades. I think there are many other such examples, but that one captures the point quite clearly.

From ‘The System’ to ‘The Swamp’: Recycling Anti-Democratic Rhetoric

Donald Trump.
Donald Trump’s first presidential campaign rally at the Phoenix Convention Center, where thousands gathered to hear him speak as protesters demonstrated outside. Photo: Danny Raustadt.

You show how Nazi contempt for “the system” delegitimized Weimar democracy from within. To what extent do contemporary slogans such as “the swamp” or “deep state” perform a structurally similar function in Trumpism, even without an explicitly revolutionary ideology?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: That’s a great point, and you’re quite right, too, about the lack of an explicitly revolutionary ideology. But when Trump talks about draining the swamp and campaigns on that, it is doing exactly—indeed 100% of what Nazi rhetoric in Germany in the 1920s and 1930s did.

Just to give you an example, the Nazis always talked about “the system,” a kind of capital-S System. “The System” was their code word for Weimar democracy, which they worked very hard to paint as corrupt and weak, in very much the sort of Trump-like “swamp” rhetoric they used. Nazi propaganda would, for instance, always highlight what they saw as corruption by the democratic parties, especially by the Social Democrats, the dominant democratic party at that time. They would emphasize corruption, weakness, dysfunction, and the incompetence of democracy, always using corruption as a wedge to say: look how this system is paying off fat cats and criminals; look how this system stands behind war profiteers and gangsters. This is a fundamentally illegitimate system; therefore, you should turn to us, because we represent, in their words, cleanliness and decency.

And Trump makes exactly the same argument. Despite the—to put it mildly—rather glaring corruption of his administration, which probably even outdoes the Nazis in corruption (and the Nazis were plenty corrupt), the rhetoric is just that: rhetoric that conceals, in both cases, a much more profound kind of corruption.

Why Cold War Triumph Did Not Prevent Democratic Discontent

You emphasize that authoritarian grievance can emerge not only from defeat but also from “hollow victory.” How analytically useful is this idea for understanding American populism, given that the US emerged as the undisputed Cold War victor?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: One thing I think is a bit of a puzzle is why the United States could have achieved, in a sense, a kind of unmitigated triumph at the end of the Cold War, and yet have pretty quickly, in historical time after the end of the Cold War, fallen prey to a movement like Trump’s—a demagogic campaign of resentment that seems to speak to people who feel they are losing from the system. So, for a historian like me, the question arises: this actually looks rather like the 1920s, an increasingly dark time that followed a seemingly spectacular democratic triumph. So, what is it about that?

If you look a little more closely, you find that, for many Americans, the end of the Cold War did not deliver anything that looked like a victory. This is largely due to economic orthodoxy and, to some extent, technological change, which have taken hold since the end of the Cold War. The two things combined—the move to greater globalization, which for many Americans meant offshoring jobs and/or losing domestic jobs in competition with foreign manufacturers—and, coupled with that, technological change, including increasing automation of the workplace. God only knows what AI is going to do to all of us, but there has been a narrative of technological change replacing jobs for some decades now.

What this has done is essentially deprive the vast majority of Americans of real economic gains over a period of the last 50 years. I think it has become acute since the 1990s, but it has been going on since the 1970s. There is quite clear data on this, and it is breathtaking that, for 99% of Americans, there has been no real gain in income or net worth since the 1970s, whereas the top 1% has achieved spectacular gains in income over the same period. And this is a result of politics. It is not anything inevitable in the economic order; it is a result of political decisions that have been made. Although many people who vote for Trump do not really know or understand this, they experience its effects, and that creates a kind of justifiable anger.

But the subtle point—and this is one of the arguments of my piece—is that it then becomes, politically, not exactly a literal economic grievance, because it gets transmuted into something else. What people receive is the message: my country, my society, does not care about me. My society does not pay attention to me; it neglects my interests. There is an elite interest that is taking precedence. That mood has increasingly taken hold in America since the 1990s, at a time when we should have been basking in democratic triumph, but it has not worked that way.

Much as—and here there is a very close parallel again—at the end of World War I, similar things happened. Following a democratic victory, various kinds of economic crises beset the Western democracies. To give an illustrative quote, I remember reading something a British veteran of World War I said, I think sometime in the 1920s: “We were promised homes for heroes at the end of World War I.” This was an election promise by British Prime Minister David Lloyd George in 1918, when he proposed a massive housing program for returning veterans. “So, we were promised homes for heroes. Well, actually, it took a hero to live in it. I would never fight for my country again.” That speaks exactly to the kind of anger—what I call a hollow victory—that Americans have experienced in large numbers since the end of the Cold War.

Hostility to Globalization, Alliance with Wealth

Elon Musk.
Protesters demonstrate against Elon Musk and DOGE over cuts to government funding outside a Tesla showroom in New York City, March 1, 2025. Photo: Dreamstime.

Your work highlights how fascist movements selectively appropriated anti-capitalist and socialist rhetoric. How should scholars interpret Trumpism’s simultaneous hostility to globalization and embrace of oligarchic capitalism without collapsing the analogy into false equivalence?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: In the historical case of fascism in the 1920s and 1930s, the scholar who has put this most clearly and effectively is the great Robert Paxton, who has a terrific book called The Anatomy of Fascism. What Professor Paxton says, quite astutely, is that fascist movements historically moved into the political space where there was room for them, making whatever alliances worked to move them forward at that moment. In the earlier days—you see this with Mussolini in the very early phase of Italian fascism, and with Hitler a few years later—the available space was one of resentment, especially among working- or lower-middle-class people, about the nature of the economic order, with many feeling they were being shafted by a certain kind of capitalism.

So, the Nazis rhetorically moved into that space and positioned themselves as anti-capitalists, some more sincerely than others. There were, weirdly enough—you may have heard the term—we sometimes speak of “left-wing Nazis,” those who took anti-capitalism and anti-elitism more seriously. Hitler was not one of those people; he was what we call a right-wing Nazi. But he was willing to let the left-wing Nazis rhetorically have some leash, as it was politically useful. And then, of course, famously later, he had them all murdered in 1934, which shows what he really thought of that.

Trump is doing something similar without quite realizing it. What is interesting about Trump is that he is so extraordinarily stupid and tactically inept that he does these things on a very obvious level. He is tactically astute enough, usually, to figure out what he can say that will be electorally successful, but he is in no way a strategic thinker capable of putting it into any coherent package. So, with Trump you get, day by day, whatever has just passed through his mind. Especially when he was campaigning, particularly in 2016, you heard not only anti-globalization but quite directly anti-capitalist rhetoric from him.

But, of course Trump is also extremely corrupt, so once in power he wants to find ways for people to give him money. In practice, he cozies up to tech moguls and others; for example, Jeff Bezos giving $40 million for that awful movie about Melania, or Trump receiving a $400 million jet from Qatar. It is sort of mind-blowing.

Trump is both so corrupt and so devoid of tactical sense—and, I guess, of any sense of tact or taste—that he simply does all these things out in the open. So, you see it extremely clearly with Trump. You can see similar patterns with Hitler and Mussolini, though they were astute enough to slightly conceal the extent of their hypocrisy about anti-capitalism. With Trump, what you see is what you get, and what you get is what you see. It is all out there. But the basic tactical and rhetorical pattern is very much the same.

The Illusion of Control: When Elites Enable Authoritarianism

In Weimar Germany, conservative elites believed they could control Hitler. Do you see comparable patterns among US political, judicial, or economic elites who initially treated Trump as a manageable aberration rather than a systemic threat?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: Yes, very much. Perhaps a bit less now than some years ago. This was particularly an issue in Trump’s first term in office. Back then, I wrote a book called The Death of Democracy, which is actually an account of the Nazis’ rise to power. One of the main themes in that book is that there was a sort of Faustian bargain between what you might call the establishment elites in Weimar Germany—particularly business elites and military elites—who did not like Hitler, did not like his party, and did not respect it, but couldn’t help noticing that Hitler got votes. Especially by 1932, he was getting about a third of the votes, and his party was by far the biggest in terms of electoral support. So, these elites were astute enough to think this was maybe something they could use.

They could make a deal with him, arrange for his electoral constituency to come in behind them, and that would advance their agenda—an agenda of deregulation and anti-union approaches for business, and an agenda of an arms buildup for the armed forces.  Notoriously—probably no one needs me to tell them this—that deal didn’t work out very well, because many of these elite gentlemen profoundly underestimated Hitler. They underestimated his cunning and his ruthlessness. It took arguably not much more than about four weeks for them to be captured by him in power and then pushed aside from all influence.

When I wrote my book—it came out in 2018—although I never mention Trump or current politics anywhere in it, there is meant to be a rather loud subtext, and I’m pretty sure no one who has read the book has missed it. It is about parallels, and the parallel I thought was strongest and most telling was exactly this kind of elite accommodation of a dangerous and potentially authoritarian political movement that they believed would advance their own agenda and that they could control. I had a feeling the same thing would happen—that Trump would overwhelm them. Trump is, of course, vastly less astute and vastly less ruthless than Hitler. But much of the same thing has, in fact, happened. He has basically destroyed the Republican Party as an actual conservative party. There are virtually no moderate Republicans left anymore, certainly at the congressional level.

It has become very much his party, because those elites, in fact, failed to control him. They have failed to control him even more, certainly in his second term. He has done things that most elites don’t want, like tariffs and many other policies. No one is happy about his threats to Greenland; no conventional conservative is happy about his downgrading of America’s alliances or trade interests, but they simply can’t control him anymore.

I do think at least they are starting to become aware of it. There is less self-delusion among American elites now about what Trump is. It’s kind of too late. If we are going to stop this guy from doing more damage, it is not going to be the business elites who do it. We’ve seen in Minneapolis who is going to do it, but that is another question.

From the Big Lie to Algorithmic Disinformation

Social Media

You describe the Weimar Republic as suffering from a fatal “reality deficit.” How does this concept translate into an era of algorithmic misinformation, partisan epistemologies, and the collapse of shared factual baselines?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: It’s a great question. One of the things that I say a lot—and I don’t know if anyone ever agrees with me, and it’s fine if no one does—but as a historian, I tend to think there is actually never anything really new. The environment we live in of social media– and internet-driven disinformation is not incredibly new. You don’t need the internet for that. As Exhibit A for my contention, I would point to the Weimar Republic, which had a very vigorous media environment.

You see different figures, and it depends how you count them, but there were something like 40 or 50 daily papers in Berlin in the 1920s, covering the whole political spectrum—from communist to Nazi and everything in between. There was also pioneering radio, films—there were many ways for information to circulate. Posters were a very big deal. In my book The Death of Democracy, I discuss how the Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels placed enormous emphasis on posters, saying, “Our election campaign is going to be all about posters.” So, there were all these ways to disseminate information.

And just because something appears in a newspaper does not mean it is not disinformation, and there was plenty of that in Weimar. A prime example is what was called, even then, the Big Lie: the idea that Germany did not really lose World War I—that Germany was on the verge of victory when cowardly, treasonous politicians, liberals, and socialists betrayed the country by surrendering to the Allies. This narrative originated with military leaders such as Field Marshal Hindenburg and General Ludendorff and was then eagerly adopted by figures like Hitler.

There are striking parallels here to Trump’s narrative about the 2020 election, claiming he did not really lose but was betrayed by a democratic establishment. That narrative has been widely circulated, and many Republicans and people on the American right believe it. It has effectively become a loyalty test: if you are to play any role in Trump’s party or administration, you must affirm that he actually won the 2020 election.

Similarly, perhaps half of Germans in the 1920s and 1930s believed that Germany had been on the verge of winning World War I—which is nonsense to exactly the same extent that it is nonsense to claim Trump won the 2020 election. Germany was, in fact, being militarily crushed when the armistice was signed in 1918.

So that Big Lie spread extremely effectively using the media technologies of the time. If the internet had existed then, it is hard to imagine it being more effective than what already existed in propagating that narrative. There is obviously an advantage today in the speed with which electronic communication spreads, but I do not think it represents a profound, fundamental difference from the past.

I do think America today is also a country suffering from a massive reality deficit, much as Weimar did in the 1920s, and for many of the same reasons: dishonest politicians exploiting the media available to them. In that sense, it is very much the same.

Personalist Power Without a Guiding Doctrine

Hitler combined charismatic authority with a coherent—if grotesque—ideological worldview. Trumpism appears far more improvisational and transactional. Does this weaken the authoritarian analogy, or does it suggest a more flexible and therefore resilient form of personalist rule?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: Probably both, but I’m one of those people who, on these issues, is more of a glass-half-full than a glass-half-empty type. I am, for a number of reasons, fairly optimistic about the longer-term prospects of American democracy. I think we will get through Trump and continue operating as a democracy. One reason for that is exactly your point: It weakens Trump’s ability to be an effective authoritarian that he has no compelling ideological vision behind him. He is, as you put it, exactly right—totally improvisatory.

Part of what made Hitler successful—certainly with his base, his core followers who became the spine of his regime—was his ability to convince them that he was the spokesperson for a powerful idea. The Nazis talked about “the Idea” all the time, a kind of capital-I, the Idea. They internalized it deeply, and that motivated a great deal of their conduct. There is nothing remotely comparable with Trump.

As a matter of fact, the distinguished historian Timothy Snyder wrote a piece sometime last fall that I thought was spot on. He made this point, noting that one of the differences between Trump and Hitler is that Hitler had a sweeping, deeply embedded, fairly all-encompassing ideological worldview. That, in a sense, not only attracted followers but also gave a blueprint for his actions and pushed him toward what he ultimately did.

Trump has nothing remotely like that. Trump basically—among his many attributes is a shockingly profound inferiority complex—just wants to be flattered all the time. He wants to ride around in Air Force One, and he wants people to give him money. It does not go much farther than that. Honestly, for Trump, that is it. Hitler—though I do not think anyone would suggest I am advocating for him—did have a sweeping ideological vision that he worked very hard to fulfill. Trump does not. As I said, Trump wants to ride around on Air Force One, be told he is wonderful, and be given money. Ultimately, that is not something you can really package as a compelling ideology for which people would be willing to die.

Authoritarian Impulses Confront Constitutional Constraints

The US Supreme Court building at dusk, Washington, DC. Photo: Gary Blakeley.

Drawing on your research into emergency decrees and legal normalization under Nazism, how should we interpret contemporary efforts to weaponize prosecutions, executive orders, or “law-and-order” rhetoric in ostensibly constitutional systems?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: That has definitely been a feature of Trump’s second term. This kind of comes back to what he said about how he would be retribution for his followers. I think what he really means is that he will be retribution for himself. So, we have obviously seen targeted prosecutions of people that Trump feels have insulted him or hurt him in some way.

There is a weak parallel here to Hitler, in the sense that in the famous event of the Night of the Long Knives in 1934, when, as I mentioned earlier, Hitler had a number of people who could be seen as left-wing Nazis murdered, he also, on the same occasion, had murdered a number of people against whom he had some particular kind of grudge, going back in some cases a decade or more. He had been holding these grudges for a while. Trump is like that, except here is where we get to the difference, which is really important.

We still, basically, in America, have a democracy. We still basically have a legal system, although Trump is trying to erode it and is eroding it to an extent, but it is still basically functioning. So, he has to try to prosecute these people through the legal system, and we have seen that it does not work very well, because the legal system basically takes his efforts to corrupt it and spits them out. There have been any number of such cases. He keeps bringing, or getting his Justice Department to bring, charges against people like the former FBI Director Comey or the New York State Attorney General Letitia James. Grand juries that need to approve an indictment will not approve them, or judges will throw them out. Just yesterday, a judge threw out a case against Senator Mark Kelly, who is in a legal battle with the Defense Secretary, Hegseth, for things that he said in a video. Again, the justice system is basically rejecting these efforts. If Trump were more Hitlerian, if he were more ruthless, he would find ways to get these people anyway, but he is not doing that.

The system is, in a sense, holding against his efforts to abuse it. So, I think, so far, so good on that. I mean, what he is doing is horrific. His Attorney General, Pam Bondi, is the most corrupt and probably most incompetent Attorney General the United States has ever had, and she just does whatever he wants her to do. But it is failing. Something we need to keep in mind about Trump is that he does any number of awful things, but most of the awful things he does fail, and they fail because they run up against something in American society that resists them, as in this case with the justice system.

Public Resistance and the Constraints on Authoritarian Consolidation

Weimar politics were marked by overt paramilitary violence, whereas contemporary American politics often operates through a mix of performative menace and state-sanctioned coercion, including the expanded mobilization of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the deployment of the National Guard in ways critics describe as intimidating or terrorizing civilian populations. In your view, how much actual violence—or credible threat of violence exercised through formal state institutions—is necessary for authoritarian consolidation in a mature media democracy?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: The answer is lots. And here again, I’m sort of a glass-half-full guy. Let me say that there is no one in this country who is more angry than I am about ICE, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, basically a police agency, or the somewhat similar organization Customs and Border Patrol, which also has police officers of a sort that have been on the ground, notably in the last month or so in Minneapolis. There is no one who abhors that more than I do or is more angry about the violence, including the murders they have perpetrated, or the myriad abuses of the Constitution—breaking into homes without a warrant, breaking into cars without a warrant. ICE is basically a criminal organization. That said, I am actually working on writing something right now about this.

The parallel to the violence of the historical fascist era basically fails simply on scale alone. The numbers would go something like this—I have just been looking this up. There are right now about 22,000 ICE agents in the United States. We could compare ICE and the kind of violence it creates and its style—being in military-style uniforms, patrolling the streets, marauding, conducting violence rather randomly against people. That all looks quite a bit like what the Nazi stormtroopers, the famous Brownshirts, were doing in 1933 and 1934.

Except that in 1933 and 1934 there were between 3 and 4 million young men in the Brownshirts in a country that at that time had about 66 million people. If you multiplied that out to be proportional to the American population now, you would have somewhere between 16 to 21 million uniformed paramilitary people roaming the streets of the United States. What we have is 22,000. So, we need to keep in mind the actually quite mind-blowing scale of the violence that the Nazi regime in 1933 and 1934 was meting out to its own people through these stormtroopers and through agencies like the secret police, the Gestapo. In comparison to what we have in the United States now, as terrible as the violence in, for instance, Minneapolis and the murders there have been, the scale is minuscule compared to what the Nazis did. I think we need to keep that in mind.

It would probably take Nazi-scale mobilization and violence for the Trump administration to get itself into the league of being a real dictatorship, and that is just not going to happen. The other thing I want to say quickly is that, as a very close student of what happened in Germany in 1933 and 1934, I can say there was nothing remotely like the mobilization of ordinary people in Minneapolis to create networks to push back against ICE. It has been remarkable how we have been reading and seeing about this in the last month or two—the way these spontaneous networks have gotten organized, where people communicate via cell phones or whatever, and as soon as ICE agents go anywhere, people notify that neighborhood, follow and track them, film them, and put videos on social media.

All of this has hindered ICE in doing what it wants to do, but it has also shredded its public reputation. Americans now are overwhelmingly—polls show roughly two-thirds—against what ICE is doing, and as that has happened, it has also shredded Trump’s approval rating, which is now at pretty much record lows for any president. The only competition Trump has right now for a low approval rating among other presidents is himself in his first term. So, the spectacle of what ICE is doing is really not selling with Americans, and they are pushing back commendably, in ways that one did not see in Germany in 1933 and 1934. All of those differences are quite important.

Can Democratic Pushback Contain Authoritarian Populism?

Protesting Donald Trump.
Protesters demonstrate outside a Donald Trump presidential campaign rally, many criticizing his immigration stance; some hold signs depicting Adolf Hitler alongside other messages and an American flag. Photo: Dreamstime.

Drawing on your work on Weimar Germany and the dynamics of authoritarian mobilization, how resilient do you judge Trumpism and a Trump-led administration to be in the face of potential democratizing backlash—whether through electoral defeat, judicial resistance, elite defection, or mass civic mobilization? More specifically, do historical analogies suggest that such backlash tends to constrain authoritarian projects, or can it paradoxically strengthen them by reinforcing grievance narratives and siege mentalities?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: That’s an interesting question. As I said before, I am fairly optimistic that we’re going to get through Trump. And in 2028, we’ll have a better president, and we’ll be more or less okay as a country. I don’t want to minimize the people who are really suffering the brunt of this, especially people in immigrant communities or communities of color. There is damage being done to people that is not fixable, but American democracy is going to get through this.

I have also said, pretty much since the beginning of this second Trump term, that although I cannot quite foresee the shape it will take, I do not think we’re going to get through this without a crisis of some kind. The crisis would take the form of Trump doing something—whether it is ordering soldiers onto the streets of American cities, resulting in large-scale violence (this has already happened to an extent), or trying to interfere with a free election. There is, of course, a lot of talk now about ways in which Trump is working to steal the 2026 midterms that we should be having in November. There may well be some crisis around those elections.

My hunch is that when that crisis comes, Trump’s side will lose. If, for instance, he tried to do something to subvert the elections, there would be riots in the streets to such an extent that he would have to back down—which, by the way, he usually does. Notice that on many of the worst things Trump does, he often ends up backing down. This has been true of the Greenland situation. Just yesterday, they announced they are pulling ICE out of Minneapolis. We’ll see if they actually do, but they have announced that. They have quietly pulled National Guard soldiers out of cities they had deployed them to, like Los Angeles and Chicago. They do not really admit they are doing that, but they have, in fact, done it.

Trump is a classic bully who is also weak, and when he meets pushback, he tends to retreat. So, if he tried, or when he tries, to do something questionable about the midterms this November, there will be pushback, and he will be forced off what he is trying to do.

To the other part of your question, Trumpism was not invented yesterday. This is a long current in American history. The ingredients that go into Trump and his constituency have manifested throughout American history. They appeared in the form of the Klan in the 1870s and again revived in the 1920s. They showed up in the form of Jim Crow in the South. They appeared in the form of McCarthyism in the early 1950s. This complex of nativism, racism, hostility to individual rights, and, to some extent, hostility to democracy has always been there in America. It is always going to be there. There will be a core of Trump supporters who will never abandon what they see him standing for. They may reach a point where they abandon him personally, perhaps—especially if there are further revelations from Epstein—but they will not abandon that package of ideas.

There will always be, whatever it may be, 20% or 30% of the American electorate attached to these ideas. My hope is that we can move toward a politics that contains it, so that we can still function as a liberal democracy where rights are protected, minorities feel safe, and we work with our allies. My hope is that we can contain it. I am somewhat optimistic that we can.

Telling Difficult Truths in a Polarized Age

And finally, Professor Hett, given your dual role as historian and public intellectual, how do you navigate the tension between scholarly restraint and moral urgency when historical patterns begin to rhyme in politically dangerous ways?

Professor Benjamin C. Hett: That’s a great question. I do wrestle with that a lot, to be quite honest. Sometimes I feel there are things I could say as a public-facing activist that I don’t really believe as a scholar, so I always feel that tension. I have been quite active in the last year or two. I was active in the election campaign last year with a group called Democracy First, which recruited a bunch of people like me—basically historians, political scientists, journalists, and so on—to speak about some of these issues and parallels at meetings and rallies, especially in swing states. So, I’ve been quite out there saying this stuff.

In a certain sense, to achieve the political effect I want—to rally people to democracy—I might be tempted to play up the threat more. I mean, I could say, oh, Trump’s super scary, he’s winning and so on, which I actually don’t believe. So, I try to be honest about that. I’ll give you another example of a tricky issue I navigate. I was actually just talking to some of my students about this the other day.

There are people on the right in America—Dinesh D’Souza is a prominent one—who argue that Nazism was a movement of the political left, not the right. People like D’Souza do this because they want to use that claim to discredit the political left in the present. They basically say, you liberals call Trump a Nazi, but actually you are the Nazis, and the Nazis were liberals and socialists like you, so you are the ones who bear this bad legacy.

Saying the Nazis were on the left is, in some basic way, wrong. In their time, the Nazis were seen as being on the far right by everyone in the political community. That’s why they found coalition partners on the right, why business and military elites were interested in working with them, and why the German Reich president, von Hindenburg, was willing to bring Hitler into government. They were seen as being on the right. However, it is also not entirely untrue that they drew some elements from the left. If you read the Nazis’ 25-point political program from 1920, there are many ideas that are quite congruent with a kind of social-welfare liberalism, if not something further left—profit sharing in big corporations, better health insurance programs, better educational opportunities for children from poorer backgrounds, old-age pensions, and so forth. There is a social-welfare element there.

And if you look at the name of the party—the full name was the National Socialist German Workers’ Party—if you took the “national” off and had a party called the Socialist German Workers’ Party, you would conclude that it was clearly a party of the left, probably a Marxist party. Once you add “national,” it becomes more complicated—complicated rather than coherently a party of the right. So, I feel, as a historian, that I need to acknowledge that complexity, even though I regret that this may give some oxygen to bad-faith actors like Dinesh D’Souza, who will say, “See? Even Hett says the Nazis were on the left.” That is the kind of thing I feel I am always navigating.

Professor António Costa Pinto is a Research Professor (ret.) at the Institute of Social Sciences, University of Lisbon.

Prof. Costa Pinto: If Victorious, Ventura Would Pursue Orbán-Style Authoritarianism in Portugal

In this in-depth ECPS interview, Professor António Costa Pinto—one of Europe’s leading scholars of authoritarianism—offers a historically grounded analysis of Chega’s meteoric rise and André Ventura’s advance to the second round of Portugal’s 2026 presidential election. Far from an electoral accident, Professor Costa Pinto situates Chega’s breakthrough within long-standing structural conditions, recurrent political crises, and the fragmentation of the center-right. He traces how Ventura mobilizes authoritarian legacies of “law and order,” welfare chauvinism, and anti-elite resentment without openly rehabilitating Salazarism. Immigration, demographic change, and plebiscitary populism emerge as key drivers of Chega’s success. Crucially, Professor Costa Pinto argues that Orbán’s Hungary—not Trump or Bolsonaro—serves as Ventura’s primary model, raising urgent questions about democratic resilience in Portugal as uncertainty on the right deepens.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In this in-depth interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor António Costa Pinto—Research Professor (ret.) at the Institute of Social Sciences, University of Lisbon, and a leading authority on authoritarianism and the radical right—offers a historically grounded analysis of the unprecedented rise of Chega and its leader, André Ventura. The discussion is anchored in a critical political moment: Ventura’s advance to the second round of the 2026 presidential election, which Professor Costa Pinto describes as neither a mere accident nor a sudden rupture, but the product of deeper transformations within Portuguese democracy.

As Professor Costa Pinto explains, Chega’s breakthrough cannot be understood as an isolated electoral shock. “The Chega Party and André Ventura have, in a way, a short history in Portuguese democracy,” he notes, “but over the last four years, the party has gone from one MP and 1.5 percent to 23 percent.” This rapid ascent, he argues, reflects the convergence of long-standing structural conditions—most notably the persistence of conservative authoritarian values in Portuguese society—with a series of destabilizing political crises that created what he calls “populist junctures.”

A central theme of the interview is the fragmentation of the center-right, which Professor Costa Pinto identifies as a key enabling factor. Portugal now has “three parties representing the right in Parliament,” and Chega’s strategy is explicitly hegemonic: to replace the traditional center-right as the dominant force. Ventura, Professor Costa Pinto observes, has succeeded because “he was able to mobilize his electorate,” even as his capacity to expand it in a runoff remains uncertain.

The interview also situates Chega within Portugal’s authoritarian legacies without reducing it to a simple revival of Salazarism. While Chega does not openly rehabilitate the Estado Novo (the corporatist Portuguese state installed in 1933), Professor Costa Pinto notes that it selectively draws on the past, particularly through “law and order” and moral authority. “Salazar is presented as the example of a non-corrupt dictator,” Professor Costa Pinto explains, adding that Chega appropriates “the idea of a conservative regime in which law and order prevailed,”while avoiding deeper identification with an unpopular dictatorship.

Immigration emerges as the party’s most powerful mobilizing issue. According to Professor Costa Pinto, “the central card that Chega has been playing over the last four years—and one that is closely associated with its electoral success—is immigration.” He links this to recent demographic shifts, especially increased migration from South Asia, and to growing anxieties among working-class voters. These dynamics underpin Chega’s welfare chauvinism, which combines statist social policies with exclusionary nationalism.

Crucially, Professor Costa Pinto frames Ventura within a transnational authoritarian constellation. “In a way, Orbán is the model for Ventura,” he states plainly. “The type of regime that Ventura would seek to consolidate in Portugal… is precisely the kind of competitive authoritarian regime that Orbán has managed to establish in Hungary.” While Trumpist styles and Bolsonaro’s experience in Brazil matter symbolically, Professor Costa Pinto stresses that Ventura adapts these influences pragmatically to Portuguese political culture.

Ultimately, the interview raises pressing questions about democratic resilience. While Professor Costa Pinto believes that Ventura is unlikely to win the presidency, he cautions that “the game is not over” on the right. Portugal, he concludes, faces a period of sustained uncertainty—one in which democratic institutions remain intact, but increasingly contested.

Here is the edited version of our interview with Professor António Costa Pinto, revised slightly to improve clarity and flow.

A Historic Runoff and a Fractured Right

André Ventura of the Chega party speaking during the plenary session of the Portuguese Parliament debating the government’s motion of confidence, March 11, 2025.

Professor António Costa Pinto, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: André Ventura’s advance to the second round of the 2026 presidential election marks a historic breakthrough for the Portuguese far right. From a longue durée perspective, how should we interpret this moment: as an electoral shock, or as the culmination of structural shifts long underway within Portuguese democracy?

Professor António Costa Pinto: Let me tell you two things. First, the Chega Party and André Ventura have, in a way, a short history in Portuguese democracy. Over the last four years, the party has gone from one MP and 1.5 percent in legislative elections to 23 percent. The reason why André Ventura will be present in the second round of the presidential elections is therefore more complicated. The Portuguese center-right and right are going through a rather curious period of party fragmentation. We now have three parties representing the right in Parliament: the center-right that is in power, a liberal right with 7.5 percent, and the Chega Party with 23 percent.

The question surrounding this presidential election is, in a way, simple. There was an independent candidate who was expected to be the winner a year ago. Admiral Henrique Gouveia e Melo was a sort of hero of the response to the pandemic a couple of years ago. In this sense, the presidential election is unusual in terms of the number of candidates, with four candidates competing on the right-wing side of the political spectrum.

The reason why Ventura is in the second round is straightforward. The main reason is that he was able to mobilize his electorate. The more difficult challenge for Ventura lies in the second round: whether he will be able to expand his electorate, because, in theory, he is going to lose.

Why the Far Right Arrived Late in Portugal

Portugal was long considered an outlier in Southern Europe for its resistance to far-right populism. In your view, what factors delayed the emergence of a party like Chega, and what has changed—politically, socially, or culturally—to make its rise now possible?

Professor António Costa Pinto: There are structural factors and conjunctural factors. The structural factor is, first of all, that since the 1980s we have known already quite clearly from surveys that around 80 percent of Portuguese society has expressed conservative authoritarian values. That was very clear. The main problem, of course, was the opportunity to express these values in electoral and political terms. Until very recently, the two main parties, especially on the right-wing side of the political spectrum—and particularly the main center-right party—had the capacity, in a way, to frame and absorb this electorate to their right.

What happened in the meantime? There were two general elements. The first was what we could call a populist juncture. A couple of years ago, a Socialist prime minister, António Costa—who now holds a position in the European Union institutions—faced, while in office, an accusation from the court system. Not exactly for corruption but associated with corruption. His response was basically to resign. The president then decided to call early elections. This was the first populist juncture responsible for the initial breakthrough of the Portuguese radical right in Parliament. Over the last four years, there have been three early elections, all associated with this kind of populist juncture.

The most recent one, seven months ago, was also the result of a problem involving a conflict of interests, in which a center-right prime minister was accused in Parliament of maintaining a small family business that was incompatible with the role of prime minister. So, Portugal has experienced several electoral populist junctures over the past four years, and these conjunctural elements have driven the growth of the Chega Party during this period. 

We therefore have structural dimensions, of course, but above all, we have conjunctural dynamics that explain this development. There is also a central element in this process: the leader of the Chega Party. He is a very charismatic figure, extremely well known in the media. He began as a football commentator in the press, closely connected to popular segments of Portuguese public opinion. He then emerged as a party leader, and we must admit that, for the first time in Portugal, a right-wing political entrepreneur managed to establish direct contact with potential voters of a radical right party—and he succeeded in doing so.

Old Repertoires, New Populism?

Sign of the right-wing conservative political party Chega, led by André Ventura, in Faro, Portugal, March 16, 2023. Photo: Dreamstime.

Drawing on your work on the “Estado Novo,” to what extent does Chega represent a reactivation of authoritarian political repertoires—such as moralism, punitive order, and anti-pluralism—rather than a novel populist phenomenon detached from Salazarist legacies?

Professor António Costa Pinto: When we look at populist radical right-wing parties in Europe, discussing their origins can become a political trap. Why? Because the trajectories are highly diverse. We know, for instance, that the Swedish populist party emerged from a very small neo-Nazi group; Fratelli d’Italia in Italy also originated in a marginal neo-fascist party; while in Spain, Vox comes from the center-right.

In the Portuguese case, the Chega Party has a very small core of leaders—essentially one figure—who comes from the political culture of the Portuguese extreme right of the past. However, the majority of its leadership, including André Ventura, comes from the main center-right party, as is also the case in Spain. Ventura himself ran for a municipal position many years ago through the Social Democratic Party, Portugal’s main center-right party, mobilizing a Roma-chauvinistic discourse. He contested a former communist municipality and played on anti-Roma sentiment in very populous suburbs of Lisbon, and this strategy proved effective. That was the starting point of his political career.

When it comes to the past, two elements are particularly important in the radical right’s mobilization of authoritarian legacies. These are not directly tied to Salazarism, but rather to a more homogeneous conception of the nation-state: the glorification of Portugal’s past, the narrative of the “Discoveries,” the Portuguese Empire, and, in many cases, the mobilization of veterans of the colonial wars. Portugal experienced a deeply traumatic decolonization, and this remains the central historical reference in how Chega engages with the past—especially the colonial wars in Africa, in Mozambique, Angola, and Guinea-Bissau.

At the same time, and this is especially interesting, Chega represents a break with the political culture of the conservative right. Traditionally, the conservative right promoted a loose or “tropical” notion of empire, arguing that the Portuguese Empire was not racist and was, overall, a positive historical experience. Chega breaks with this tradition. Its chauvinistic, anti-immigration discourse—targeting African, Brazilian, and Asian immigration—marks a clear rupture with the conservative right’s legacy in Portugal.

What emerges, then, is a new-old conception of national identity. Chega occasionally invokes Salazar, but above all it mobilizes the past through the theme of corruption: fifty years of corruption, fifty years of an oligarchic political class—coinciding, symbolically, with the fifty years of democracy Portugal celebrated last year. Salazar himself poses a problem as a reference, as he is associated with repression and with a period that remains unpopular in Portugal, except in one key dimension: law and order.

These, ultimately, are the two elements Chega draws most clearly from the authoritarian past: the myth of a glorious colonial empire and, above all, the appeal to law and order.

Presidentialization and the Rise of Plebiscitary Populism

Parliament building in Lisbon, Portugal. Photo: Dreamstime.

While Chega does not explicitly rehabilitate Salazar, do you see elements of what you have described as Salazarism’s “politics of order” and depoliticization resurfacing in Ventura’s discourse, particularly his emphasis on discipline, punishment, and national moral renewal?

Professor António Costa Pinto: As I mentioned earlier, Chega draws on Salazar primarily through two elements. First, Salazar is portrayed as an example of a non-corrupt dictator. Second, Salazarism is evoked as a conservative regime in which law and order prevailed. These are essentially the two aspects Chega appropriates from the Salazarist past. However, as I also noted, most of the references to authoritarian legacies are linked less to Salazar himself than to the former greatness of the Portuguese colonial empire in Africa.

In your comparative work on charisma and authoritarian leadership, you note that charisma need not be revolutionary or mass-mobilizing. How would you characterize Ventura’s leadership style: as plebiscitary populism, mediated celebrity politics, or a new post-charismatic form of personalization?

Professor António Costa Pinto: Ventura clearly belongs to the plebiscitary, authoritarian populist parties in Europe. By this I mean that the main elements of political mobilization of the Portuguese radical right revolve around law and order, the idea of corruption associated with the oligarchic political class that has dominated Portuguese democracy since its transition, and a set of conservative values typically linked to this form of plebiscitary authoritarian democracy—such as proposals for the sterilization of pedophiles, or even the reintroduction of the death penalty in Portugal.

These are dimensions tied to this broader political vision, and a significant segment of Portuguese society does support such ideas. As a result, this is not primarily about the functioning of parliamentary institutions, but rather about a plebiscitary, referendum-style conception of political power.

This is also how Ventura behaves in the current presidential elections. He seeks, in a sense, to use the powers of the presidency to advance many of these political proposals, through a form of presidentialization within Portugal’s semi-presidential system.

Electoral Strategies of Chega Is Cannibalizing the Right

Salazarism relied on corporatist and technocratic governance rather than mass populist mobilization. Does Chega’s rise suggest a transition from elite-managed authoritarianism to popular authoritarianism, or are we witnessing a hybrid form adapted to democratic institutions?

Professor António Costa Pinto: As with many other radical right-wing parties in Europe, Chega operates within democratic institutions. It is primarily an electoral party. There are very small segments—one could describe them as a residual effect—of neo-fascist and extreme right-wing groups, but these remain marginal. For the most part, Chega plays the electoral card.

In fact, in the current presidential election and campaign, an important dynamic concerns the right-wing side of the political spectrum in Portugal. Ventura and Chega are present, but Ventura is the only right-wing candidate to advance to the second round. His strategy is to combine two approaches: on the one hand, mobilizing the radical right and, at times, even the extreme right; on the other, presenting more conservative and moderate political proposals. The objective is straightforward: to become the main party representing the right-wing side of the political spectrum in Portugal and to cannibalize the conservative right-wing electorate.

The cards have been played, but the outcome remains highly uncertain. We will see what happens in these presidential elections, even if Ventura does not ultimately win.

Selective Moralism in Portugal’s Populist Right

Your research highlights the role of political Catholicism in shaping authoritarian moral frameworks. To what extent does Chega’s moralized discourse on family, crime, and social order echo these traditions, even in a formally secular and pluralist society?

Professor António Costa Pinto: Chega has clear, or very conservative, values associated with religion—not only with the Roman Catholic Church. We should also not underestimate the role of small evangelical groups, particularly among certain popular segments of Portuguese society. Undoubtedly, Chega has adopted pro-life positions, anti-abortion values, and other conservative stances. At the same time, however, Chega is a populist party. For that reason, it does not consistently play the anti-abortion card. Why? Because its leaders look at opinion surveys and recognize that the majority of Portuguese society supports the legalization of abortion, as is currently the case in Portugal.

What we see, then, is a core of conservative values, but above all a strong emphasis on anti-corruption rhetoric, hostility toward the political class, and the idea that Portuguese society is being held back by centrist, non-reformist center-right and center-left governments. So yes, conservative values matter for Chega, but the party does not emphasize all of them when it realizes that they do not translate into electoral gains.

There is, however, one aspect I would like to stress: As in many other European democracies, Chega is a typical social welfare–chauvinistic party. It does not embrace ultra-liberalism, unlike some other right-wing populist figures outside Europe, such as Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil or Javier Milei in Latin America. Instead, Chega clearly plays the card of a welfare state “for the Portuguese,” combined with anti-immigrant narratives that accuse immigrants of exploiting the welfare state and the national health system. At the same time, it advances a vision of social policy that is explicitly not anti-statist.

From Emigration Country to Immigration Backlash

Ventura’s campaign placed immigration at the center of political conflict, despite Portugal’s relatively recent experience as a destination country. How do you explain the salience of immigration in a context historically defined by emigration rather than immigration?

Professor António Costa Pinto: The central card that Chega has been playing over the last four years—and one that is closely associated with its electoral success—is immigration. Portugal was long accustomed to immigration from Portuguese-speaking African countries and to some extent from Brazil. However, over the past five years—a very recent development—there has been a sharp increase in immigration from Asia, which is new in the Portuguese context. Migrants from Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan are now highly visible across different segments of Portuguese society and the economy, from delivery services and other forms of urban transport in major cities to the agro-export sector in the south of the country. In that sector alone, around 70 percent of the labor force now comes from Asian countries such as Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh. Similar patterns are visible in tourism as well.

This shift is driven, of course, by economic needs. Portugal is one of the most rapidly aging societies in Europe, and demographic aging is a central structural feature of the Portuguese economy and society. Immigrants already play a crucial role in sustaining pensions, social benefits, and key sectors of the labor market.

However, the social reaction to this new wave of immigration—particularly among lower-middle-class and working-class segments of Portuguese society—is perhaps the most important explanation for Chega’s electoral success. At the same time, as Chega has come to dominate the political agenda on immigration, the center-right government, feeling electorally threatened, has responded by negotiating with the radical right and adopting new restrictive policies on immigration, access to Portuguese nationality, and related issues.

The Crisis of the Traditional Right in Portugal

The PSD’s historically weak performance and its refusal to endorse a runoff candidate point to a crisis of the traditional right. How important is center-right fragmentation in enabling Chega’s claim to leadership of the “non-socialist space”?

Professor António Costa Pinto: Undoubtedly, Chega is cannibalizing segments of the center-right, much more so than voters on the left or the radical left. At the same time, Chega is now present in many areas of Portuguese society—particularly in the South—that were electorally communist in the past. However, this is less significant today, given that the Portuguese Communist Party now represents around 2 percent of the vote.

What is more important is that Chega has increased its vote share in many areas, especially in the south and in the outskirts of Lisbon, which previously voted for the Communists and the Socialist Party. Today, however, Chega has become a national party with a very homogeneous electorate. As a result, it is primarily cannibalizing votes from the right.

The only real challenge to Chega, aside from the center-right, comes from a small right-wing liberal party that appeals mainly to younger and more educated voters. Chega, by contrast, is clearly dominant on the right-wing side of the political spectrum among segments of Portuguese society with less than secondary education. For this reason, any further electoral growth for Chega can only come from right-wing voters.

In the last legislative elections, the Social Democratic Party (PSD), the main center-right party, did increase its vote share. It is now in power with a minority government that is forced to negotiate much of its legislation with the radical right. Labor reform is a clear example: the only viable negotiating partner is the radical right, since the center-left has already decided to vote against it.

So yes, the challenge posed by the radical right is very significant, and the game is far from over. While the cards have been played, there remains considerable fluidity and uncertainty on the right-wing side of the political spectrum. On the left, by contrast, the Socialist Party lost the election and many voters, but it has nonetheless survived as the main force of the center-left.

From Trump to Orbán: How Transnational Models Shape Portugal’s Radical Right

Viktor Orban, Hungary’s prime minister arrives to attend in an informal meeting of Heads of State or Government in Prague, Czechia on October 7, 2022. Photo: Alexandros Michailidis.

Observers have described Ventura’s rise as part of the “Trumpification” of the right. To what extent do transnational populist styles, media strategies, and narratives of cultural grievance matter more today than domestic historical legacies?

Professor António Costa Pinto: Domestic legacies are important, but undoubtedly Chega and Ventura are, first of all, integrated into the radical right political family in the European Parliament. There is a strong sense of identification with Giorgio Meloni, and also with Vox in Spain.

Above all—and this is very important—even when it is not openly emphasized, there is a strong sense of identification with Orbán. In a way, Orbán is the model for Ventura. The type of regime that Ventura would seek to consolidate in Portugal, if he were to win elections and gain access to power, is precisely the kind of competitive authoritarian regime that Orbán has managed to establish in Hungary.

In the Portuguese case, and in Portuguese political culture more broadly, we should not forget Portugal’s strong links with Brazil. Chega was a strong supporter of the Bolsonaro experience in Brazil, firmly anti-Lula and anti-left, and this reflects deeper cultural and political connections between Portugal and Brazil.

More recently, however, Trump’s challenge to NATO and episodes such as the “Greenland affair” have made Ventura more cautious. He is aware that, within Portuguese public opinion, Trump’s positions on NATO and the European Union are problematic. This matters because the Portuguese electorate is generally optimistic about the European Union and not receptive to such positions, so Ventura avoids adopting them openly.

So, as in many other radical right-wing populist experiences in Europe, there is a core of values associated with right-wing authoritarianism, but there is also a popular strategy that plays the cards that are popular and avoids those that are unpopular.

Uncertainty on the Right and the Future of Portuguese Democracy

And finally, Professor Pinto, from the perspective of democratic theory and historical comparison, does the 2026 election represent a critical juncture for Portuguese democracy—or does Portugal still possess institutional and cultural buffers capable of containing far-right populism in the long run?

Professor António Costa Pinto: That is a very interesting question, and it is not easy to answer. For the first time, this presidential election has prompted a clear stance among many figures on the right, including several politicians from the center-right, in support of the moderate candidate of the left. This is the first time such a development has occurred in Portugal. Why? Because in the last legislative elections, seven months ago, the Social Democratic Party completely abandoned any strategy of maintaining red lines against the radical right and entered into negotiations with it.

For the second round of the presidential election, both the prime minister and the main leader of the conservative party supporting the government chose not to take public positions. However, they gave instructions to most local leaders—mayors and other municipal figures—to support the center-left candidate. This was also a very pragmatic decision.

They know that, as president, the center-left candidate would respect democratic norms and the formal and informal rules governing relations between the president and the government. We should not forget that Portugal is a semi-presidential democracy. They also know very clearly that if, by any chance, the radical right was to win the election and Ventura became president—which is not going to happen—it could lead to a presidentialization of the system and favor his party in terms of cabinet influence.

In that sense, Portuguese democracy could be subverted not only through legislative elections but also through presidential ones, if Ventura were to gain presidential power—and that is not going to happen.

Overall, Portuguese democracy will continue to face a degree of uncertainty, particularly on the right-wing side of the political spectrum, where the game is not over. At this stage, we do not know which party will ultimately become the dominant force on the center-right. Will Portugal move toward an Italian-style scenario, in which the radical right dominates and the center-right becomes a junior partner? Or will it continue, as it does today, with a minority center-right government supported by a liberal democratic party such as Iniciativa Liberal? With Chega holding 23 percent of the vote, the future of the right-wing political landscape in Portugal remains highly uncertain.

US President Donald Trump delivers a speech to voters at an event in Phoenix, Arizona. Photo: Danny Raustadt.

From Farce to Tragedy: The First Year of Trump’s Second Term and the Unmaking of America

In “From Farce to Tragedy,” the author traces the first year of Donald Trump’s second term as a turning point in American political life. What once carried elements of chaos and dark comedy has hardened into something more deliberate and consequential. Trump’s return to power, framed by him as total vindication, has brought an unprecedented expansion of executive authority, the systematic weakening of institutions, and the normalization of personal loyalty over law. Drawing on sharp observations from leading journalists and scholars, the piece shows how emergency powers, executive orders, and transactional politics have reshaped governance at home and abroad. The result is not renewed greatness, but a spectacle of democratic erosion—an American tragedy unfolding without the comfort of a happy ending.

By Cemal Tunçdemir*

“What the American public always wants is a tragedy with a happy ending,” the American critic William Dean Howells, who was a central figure in Gilded Age American literature, once said. The second coming of Donald J. Trump to the US Presidency was not an accident of fate, nor even absurdity of democracy. It was a sequel demanded by majority of American voters that having once liked the “first season” and asked upon longer run. The real tragedy was not that Trump was Trump, that was obvious from the start, but that so many Americans mistook his loudness for conviction and saw his challenge to the rules as bravery. 

“The first time around, there was something almost thrilling about Donald Trump as president,” explains American historian and journalist Thomas Frank, “The respectable world came together against him with a gratifying unanimity: the legacy media, the nonprofits, the universities, the think tanks, the tech sector, the intelligence community. Insulting this imbecile became the most rewarding pastime on earth.” By contrast, according to Frank, for much of 2025, the feeling was darker. “Absolute despair” if you will.

The difference in the second term wasn’t just the lack of the thrilling or accidental comedic elements of the first term. Donald Trump viewed his return to the White House as a profound vindication. In his telling, his four years of exile had proven that he was right about everything. About economy, about “stolen” election, about press, about elites, about universities, about institutions. This absolute conviction liberated him from all doubt, and all rules. 

Trump’s unrestrained mind is on full display in a recent letter he sent to the Prime Minister of Norway as he wrote, “Considering your Country decided not to give me the Nobel Peace Prize for having stopped 8 Wars PLUS, I no longer feel an obligation to think purely of Peace.”

“Donald Trump now genuinely lives in a different reality,” observes Anne Applebaum, “one in which neither grammar nor history nor the normal rules of human interaction now affect him.”

“Trump 2.0 is Trump 1.0 in some ways but on steroids,” compares Peter Baker, New York Times’s chief White House correspondent who have covered six US presidents, including Trump in his first term, “A lot of the things that he talked about doing or exploring in the first term -or tried but failed to do or was dissuaded from doing-he’s now doing and in spades.” 

Unlike the first term, in the beginning of his second term, there was less confusion, more intent. And more so preparation. Trump has rolled out many of the Project 2025, 900-page Heritage Foundation-led blueprint, he once claimed he has nothing to do with. Many of Trump’s executive orders reshaping the government were outlined in this right-wing policy plan. From the early days of his tenure, Donald Trump began advancing Project 2025’s primary objective: the “deconstruction of the administrative state,” a term coined by his former chief strategist, Steve Bannon. He has expanded the scope of executive power in ways unparalleled in modern history

By the end of 2025, some 317,000 federal employees were out of the government, according to the Office of Personnel Management. This was the largest reduction of the federal workforce in American history. He even fired members and officials from various independent and bipartisan boards, agencies, and commissions, including dozens of inspectors general, key watchdogs for waste, fraud, and abuse across all government.  

One of the things Trump learned was that it matters who is around him, Peter Baker observes“Many of the people he surrounded himself with in his first term viewed their jobs as keeping him from going off the rails, from doing things they thought were reckless -or illegal even. This term, he’s surrounded by people who not only agree with him but are enabling him and empowering him and want to serve his desires.”

One of the Trump’s most daring test the limits of his presidential power was claiming powers that have typically resides with Congress. In his first year, executive orders have eclipsed actual legislation. Trump has signed 147 executive orders, setting a record for the most signed in any president’s first 100 days of office. By contrast, he has signed only five bills into law, a record low for the first 100 days.  

What is truly worrying is that his blatant misuse of emergency powers, which are meant to temporarily increase executive authority only during urgent and rapidly developing situations. The Brennan Center has identified 123 different laws could be triggered by a presidential emergency declaration. Because these powers are extensive, strong safeguards are needed to prevent misuse. Since The National Emergencies Act lacks safeguards, a president can declare an emergency by executive order and renew it every year indefinitely. Congress may vote to terminate an emergency, but only with a veto-proof majority. This flaw was exposed when Trump declared a fake emergency to fund a border wall Congress had rejected. 

As a striking example, instead of traditional tariff statutes (such as Section 301 or Section 232) he invoked the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA), which is not a general trade statute, to impose sweeping import taxes. To justify invoking the IEEPA, Trump Administration declared “trade deficits” a national emergency. And this audacity has led to a legal drama that has now reached the Supreme Court.

The question is why the White House team ever invoked IEEPA at all, instead of traditional trade laws? The answer is not only that IEEPA provides the President broad authority to respond to a declaration of national emergency. The real answer probably lies in “political anthropology rather than jurisprudence,” writes Gillian Tett, “Trump’s team has a power structure more akin to a royal court than anything that adheres to 21st-century norms.” He always wants to have king-like powers, and his team is looking for loopholes that would allow him to acquire those powers. 

This is the posture of a man who has looked at the institutions meant to restrain him -the courts, the lawmakers, the prosecutors- have done nothing and he concluded they are toothless. After the surviving of the fallout of January 6, five years ago, he now moves with the confidence of someone who believes he is beyond the reach of the old rules. He wants a power that is feared and given whatever it wants. For this reason, some critics are no longer debating policy; they are discussing a change in the American regime. But a change to what? 

“There is an answer, and it is not classic authoritarianism—nor is it autocracy, oligarchy, or monarchy. Trump is installing what scholars call patrimonialism.” Jonathan Rauch answered the question in his now famous article. “Patrimonialism is less a form of government than a style of governing,” he wrote, “It is not defined by institutions or rules; rather, it can infect all forms of government by replacing impersonal, formal lines of authority with personalized, informal ones.” 

The Art of the Deal-Making Presidency

“Nice woman but she does not listen.” 

After a reportedly tense phone call in early August, President Trump publicly criticized Swiss President Karin Keller-Sutter with this condescending remark and quickly raised tariffs on Swiss imports to a punishing 39 percent. Couple of days later when two Swiss federal ministers and several government executives flew over to DC, but they got nowhere near Trump. Following months all the effort of traditional statecraft couldn’t resolved months of standoff. What ultimately break the deadlock was not diplomacy or policy talks. It was something shinier.

In early November, small delegation of Swiss titans -all male and, all billionaires- sidestepped the usual diplomatic channels, arriving at the Oval Office with a gold-plated Rolex desk clock and a 1-kilogram engraved gold bar. Before the guests had even leaved the White House, Trump shared a social media post announcing progress. Within the days, the previously urgent “national emergency” posed by Swiss trade deficit seemed to lose its urgency, and tariffs were trimmed to a comparatively modest 15 percent. 

As that meeting so strikingly demonstrated, access to the American leader is no longer earned through shared values or sound policy. It is now won through the language of the deal and, above all, the weight of gold.

Trump received gold coated replica of a royal crown from the Silla Kingdom from South Korea President, a golden pager from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, a gold-plated golf club from Japan, a golden boxing belt from Ukraine.  Even Apple CEO Tim Cook presented Trump with a special glass disc on a 24-karat gold base in August 2025 and secured an exemption from 100% tariff on imported semiconductors. Apple gift was a favorite for Trump in the Oval Office until the Swiss came to town. “It was tough to beat Apple, but the Swiss did it,” one administration official told Axios.

Trump even kept original 24-karat gold Club World Cup Trophy for himself so FIFA had to give the winner team, Chelsea, a replica. Not only did he receive the trophy, but he was also awarded a gold medal, which FIFA presents to the players of the winning team.

“The golden age” that Trump promised in his second inaguration speech, has never seemed more literal. He wasn’t only for his trademark “Midas touch” flow, he seeks profit in every policy decision he makes. As Jonathan Rauch explained, in patrimonialism, every policy the president values is considered his own personal property. Some experts call it ‘pay-to-play,’ where foreign governments, businesses, and wealthy donors gaining political and financial advantages such as relaxed regulations and federal contracts by investing in the Trump Organization, supporting MAGA causes or by engaging in excessive flattery. 

Trump Towers have been proposed from Damascus to Belgrade. Trump hotels or Trump Resorts are being built in many major cities around the world, primarily in Asia and Africa. As Amy Sorkin puts it Trump has made it clear that no gift is too much for him -even, and maybe especially, someone else’s Nobel Peace Prize medal.

Even presidential pardon power has become big business. In his first-year Trump has pardoned an unusually high numberof wealthy people accused of financial crimes, including money laundering, bank fraud and wire fraud. Wealthy individuals pay millions to lobbying and consulting firms to bring their cases to Trump’s attention. 

Trump pardoned cryptocurrency mogul Changpeng Zhao, months after Zhao’s company has struck a $2 billions deal with World Liberty Financial, the Trump family’s new crypto venture. In another revealing example, executives of Wells Fargo Bank, instead of paying the $8.5 million fine imposed for fraudulent transactions, donated $1 million to Trump’s inauguration ceremony in January, and two months later, their fine was reduced to a mere $150,000. 

In Trump’s World, Europe Is the Villain 

“The foreign policy of President Donald Trump combines the worst of isolationism with the worst of interventionism in a uniquely disastrous way,” says Thomas Reese. He began his presidency as a firm isolationist, but “America First” quickly turned into a wrecking ball -a license to upend America’s role in the world, discarding rules and norms with little restraint. 

“I never thought I’d feel nostalgia for the Iraq War,” said Nesrine Malik in The Guardian, but it turns out that the runup to that war, when American Administration did at least strive to convince the Congress and the world of the righteousness of its cause, was the “good old days.” The US removed Venezuela leader Nicolas Maduro based solely on national interest, bypassing all domestic, international authorization or public consent. Trump didn’t just break the rules it showed there aren’t any. 

“No autocrat likes to see one of their own seized, shackled and renditioned,” wrote Adrian Blomfield in The Daily Telegraph. However, China and Russia are unlikely to be troubled by Maduro’s removal. They may see it as evidence of the US stepping back globally and focusing on regional dominance. A world divided into spheres of influence, where powerful states act freely, could benefit Moscow and Beijing, as noted by Gideon Rachman in the FT.

Even Trump administration’s new National Security Strategy (NSS) plan within its 33-page framework argues that Russia and China are US peers or potential friends. Instead, it points the finger at a surprising villain: Europe. NSS argues that the real danger isn’t Russian tanks or Chinese factories, but rather the “erasure” of European culture caused by mass immigration and the power of the European Union bureaucracy. The liberal international order, already fragile, found itself mocked not only by adversaries but by its former custodian. 

New Civil War and End of Forth Republic?

“Trump isn’t interested in fighting a new Cold War. He wants a new civilizational war,” wrote Thomas Friedman. Trump’s National Security Strategy language unlike any previous surveys, he observes, “It reveals a deep truth about this second Trump administration: how much it came to Washington to fight America’s third civil war, not to fight the West’s new cold war.” According to Friedman, after the Civil War of the 1860s and the second major civil struggle of the 1960s civil rights movement, America is now experiencing its third civil war. “This one, like the first two, is over the question ‘Whose country is this anyway?’ This civil war has been less violent than the first two—but it is early.”

Although the United States has operated under a single constitution, each civil war has produced a new political order, a new republic in all but name. For that reason, a “third civil war” would not just be another crisis; it would signal the end of what some analysts call the “Fourth American Republic.” 

As Jamelle Bouie pointed, the Civil War and its aftermath constituted the Second Republic. The Third Republic came into this world through the overwhelming victory of the Democrats in the election of early 1930’s. The legacies of the Third Republic had lived on when the fourth republic began with the achievements of the 1960’s Civil Rights Movement, which included a newly open door to the world. “This was an American republic built on multiracial pluralism. A nation of natives and of immigrants from around the world. Of political parties that strove to represent a diverse cross-section of society,” wrote Bouie, “It’s this America that they’re fighting to destroy with their attacks on immigration, civil rights laws, higher education and the very notion of a pluralistic society of equals.” 

A Year of Revelation

The first year of Trump’s second term offered Americans not greatness, but clarity. It showed what happens when empty and noisy demagogic rhetoric substitutes for vision and when power outruns principles. His return to power did not resolve the contradictions of Trumpism; it intensified them. Nationalism that depended on global markets. Capitalism claims to be self-regulating, yet in reality it is owned by the state. Law invoked as rhetoric and rejected as restraint. Freedom of speech demanded abroad and denied at home. Declared himself ‘Peace President’ and change the Department of the Defense name to Department of War. 

His supporters too—with their enduring appetite for loud certainty over quiet competence, find themselves caught in a season of paradox. Cheering the dismantling of the very institutions that once established the order they now claim to want again. They back tariffs, immigration, and social spending policies that heavily impact rural America, the backbone of their movement. And most ironically, this coalition of white Christians is led by one of the least religious presidents ever.

And yet, for all the noise he and his administration generate, the first year of his second term also revealed limits. Courts still blocked some actions. States resisted others. Markets reacted unpredictably. Bureaucracies slowed what they could not stop. Polls indicate declining support for him as the Congressional elections approach. Trump raged against these constraints, calling them sabotage, yet their persistence revealed an uncomfortable truth: even an “unbound president” cannot easily escape the structure of a constitutional federal system. 

Even in the face of repeated failures to “make America great again,” Trump succeeded at making one thing undeniably great again. It was not the greatness of law, restraint, economy, international leadership or wisdom, but the greatness of spectacle. A spectacle of American tragedy, one that may not have a happy ending this time. 


 

(*) Cemal Tunçdemir is a New York–based veteran journalist with extensive experience covering US politics and international affairs.

Dr. Kamran Matin is a Reader in International Relations at the University of Sussex.

Dr. Kamran Matin: Iran Regime Has Ruled by Coercion, Not Consent

Iran is entering a critical juncture as renewed protests expose both the fragility and the resilience of the Islamic Republic. In this in-depth interview with the ECPS, Dr. Kamran Matin argues that since the 2009 Green Movement, the Iranian regime has ruled “primarily through coercion rather than consent,” relying on repression while retaining the support of only a small social base. Yet violence alone does not explain regime survival. As Matin emphasizes, the Islamic Republic endures “not only through violence, but through a fragmented opposition” that lacks organizational depth, ideological coherence, and a credible alternative vision. Drawing on political economy, Gramscian theory, and regional geopolitics, Dr. Matin analyzes why economic shocks quickly become systemic political crises in Iran—and why, despite widespread de-legitimation, the unresolved question of “what comes next” continues to constrain revolutionary outcomes.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Iran has entered one of the most volatile phases of its post-1979 history. The protest wave that erupted after the sharp currency shock of late December 2025 quickly escalated into explicitly anti-regime mobilization, revealing not only the depth of socio-economic dislocation but also the political vulnerabilities of the Islamic Republic. In this interview with the European Center for Populism Studies, Dr. Kamran Matin—Reader in International Relations at the University of Sussex—offers a theoretically informed analysis of the current conjuncture, foregrounding two interlinked claims that capture the central stakes of the moment: “Since 2009, [the] Iran regime has ruled by coercion, not consent,” and “[the] Iran regime survives not only through violence, but through a fragmented opposition.”

For Dr. Matin, the disputed 2009 election and the Green Movement mark a critical turning point in the regime’s mode of rule. As he emphasizes, “almost all of these signals are present in some form, but at least since 2009—going back to that critical moment—the Iranian state, the Islamic Republic, has ruled primarily through coercion rather than consent.” In his account, the erosion of consent is not merely ideological but institutional: the narrowing of factional pluralism and the weakening of reformist mediation diminished the regime’s capacity to manage dissent through electoral incorporation. The result, he argues, is a system that “retains the support of a small segment of Iranian society—perhaps 10 to 15 percent at most, and maybe closer to 10 percent,” while relying on “brute force: repression, torture, imprisonment, surveillance, and so on” to govern the remainder.

Yet Dr. Matin’s analysis also resists purely repression-centered explanations of authoritarian durability. Alongside state violence, he argues, regime survival is sustained by the organizational weakness and strategic incoherence of its opponents. “I would argue that, in addition to massive levels of violence, what sustains the regime is precisely the fractured nature of the opposition, its disorganization, and the absence of a political discourse that appeals equally to the main segments of society.” Even as protests broaden to include bazaar networks, students, workers, women, and peripheral provinces, the opposition—he contends—lacks the institutional capacity to translate mobilization into a viable transition project. “Apart from state violence,” he continues, “this lack of an organized alternative—ideologically, discursively, and organizationally—is a key factor keeping the regime in power.” The enduring strategic dilemma is therefore not simply the de-legitimation of the regime, but the absence of a credible successor: “Many people ask themselves, ‘What comes next?’”

Across the interview, Dr. Matin situates these dynamics within wider debates on revolutionary crises, hegemonic contestation, and regional geopolitics. He examines how economic shocks in a rentier political economy can rapidly become systemic political conflict; how coercion is deployed through targeted and exemplary violence; and how opposition plurality can both energize revolt and inhibit the formation of a unifying, “national-popular” project. Taken together, Dr. Matin’s intervention offers a stark but analytically precise assessment of Iran’s predicament: a regime increasingly dependent on coercion, confronting a society in revolt—yet facing an opposition still struggling to answer the question that shadows every revolutionary moment: what comes next?

Here is the edited transcript of our interview with Dr. Kamran Matin, slightly revised for clarity and flow.

In Iran, There Is No Sharp Distinction Between the Economic and the Political

Ruhollah Khomeini and Ayatollah Ali Hamaney on billboard in Tabriz, Iran on August 11, 2019.

Dr. Kamran Matin, thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Protests in Iran reportedly originated in a sharp currency shock on 28 December 2025 and rapidly escalated into explicitly anti-regime mobilization. Through what causal pathways do socio-economic dislocations in Iran—currency collapse, inflationary spirals, and distributive breakdown—translate into systemic political contestation rather than reformist grievance, and how does Iran’s specific configuration of state–market–religious authority condition this radicalization?

Dr. Kamran Matin: First of all, I would like to thank you for giving me this opportunity to discuss the protests in Iran. Your question is obviously very dense and contains multiple sub-questions. I will try to address them one by one, to the extent that I remember them.

In terms of economic grievances translating into political contestation, I think we have to bear in mind that Iran is still largely a rentier state. Therefore, like many rentier states—but also developmental states in general—there is hardly anything that is not political in essence. There is no sharp distinction between the economic and the political, because the economic accumulation of capitalists, or the work that the working class does for capitalists, in a country like Iran is ultimately not based—if I use the language of Marxist political economy—on surplus value in the sense we understand it in theory. Rather, profit is ultimately a redistribution of external rent by the state to various sections of society. As a result, the distribution of profit and wealth is politically determined, although not directly; it is mediated through multiple institutions and mechanisms.

In that sense, it is very easy in Iran for economic problems to become political issues. This has always been the case, even before the revolution, during the Shah period. Currently, however, this dynamic has intensified, because the combination of sanctions, the illicit economy, and the informal economy means that control over currency, in particular, is very tightly exercised. The government allocates foreign currency at different rates to different actors. There are cheaper rates from which large industrialists or merchants can benefit, but access to these requires proximity to the state or the government. So even economic competitiveness becomes a fundamentally political process. It is not economic in the straightforward sense that greater efficiency or lower production costs automatically generate higher profits. That logic has very limited purchase in a place like Iran.

Against this backdrop, it is not surprising that the protests began in the so-called bazaar and then very quickly turned into a popular, widespread political movement. However, we should also bear in mind that the bazaar, in the context of Iran—and to some extent perhaps even in Turkey—has somewhat different meanings and characteristics. Historically, the term bazaar referred to the large mercantile bourgeoisie involved in trade. But in recent decades, and probably even earlier, the bazaar has come to include different layers. For example, the current protests were not initiated by traditional, ideologically religious merchants as such, but by shopkeepers selling electronic goods. These goods are imported, especially from Asia—South Korea, Taiwan, Japan and elsewhere—and these traders were unable either to buy or to sell because the currency was in free fall. As a result, they initiated the protests. Because society as a whole was already suffering from high inflation, unemployment, and general economic insecurity, the wider population could easily identify with their grievances.

As for the second part of your question—about Iran’s specific configuration of state–market–religious authority and how it conditions this situation. The bazaar, particularly its traditional merchant class, has historically been very close to the ulama, or clerical class, through intermarriage and shared religious conservatism. At the same time, the security forces—the Revolutionary Guards (IRGC) and the Basij militia—have largely been recruited from the petty bourgeoisie, as well as from these social strata in different parts of Iran. There is therefore a close linkage among these elements. The government itself may be internally diverse, with competing factions, but in moments of crisis such as the current one, these factions tend to close ranks in order to weather the storm. The Supreme Leader plays a key role in maintaining a certain level of coherence within this system, though that is something we might discuss later.

Finally, there is, of course, the question of minorities, nationalities, and women—the gender dimension. In the last major wave of protests, the “Zan, Zendegi, Azadi,” or “Women, Life, Freedom” movement, women and subaltern nations were at the forefront, while large cities—especially in majority Persian-speaking regions—were comparatively quiet. This time, however, the pattern has been somewhat different. The protests began in Tehran and other major cities, while significant sections of Kurdistan remained relatively quiet, although some areas were highly active and bore the brunt of repression in the early days—places such as Ilam or Kermanshah. This difference also calls for explanation and is related to the way the previous protest wave was suppressed, as well as to the fragility and temporary nature of solidarity between the center—Persian speakers or Iranian nationalists more generally—and groups such as the Kurds, the Baluch, and the Arabs. 

I hope I have addressed your question, but I am sure that we will return to many of these issues again in subsequent questions.

Wider, More Popular, Yet Unorganized: The Limits of Expanding Protest Coalition

“Woman, life, freedom”: London protest draws thousands following the death of Mahsa Amini in police custody on January 10, 2022. Photo: Vehbi Koca.

If the current protest wave incorporates bazaar and merchant networks alongside students, workers, women, and peripheral provinces, how does this re-composition of class alliances alter the movement’s structural power, organizational density, and leverage vis-à-vis the state when compared to 2009, 2017–19, and 2022? In particular, does bazaar participation reintroduce a historically decisive—but long dormant—node of revolutionary capacity?

Dr. Kamran Matin: The fact that the bazaar was involved is significant, because in the previous protests you mentioned there was always this notion that the so-called gray area of the Iranian population was not participating. By this gray area, people meant those who were unhappy or dissatisfied but not willing to go to the streets, protest, and risk their lives. This time around, that changed, because we saw participation not only in big cities but also in small ones. There were a large number of casualties in places whose names I had never even heard before—very small towns in distant provinces like Khorasan in the northeast, near Afghanistan—where historically we have seen very little in the way of radical protest against the regime. 

So, I think this time the protests were wider and more popular, with the partial exception of Kurdistan, which again has to do with the way Iranian nationalism operates. Opposition forces often fail to acknowledge Kurdish grievances as such, and not only that: by accusing Kurds of separatism and of being foreign agents, they actually—albeit indirectly—help the Iranian state repress them even more brutally. As a result, people were very afraid of much harsher repression in Kurdish areas, and some parts remained quiet, although, there were many protests in other regions.

Another important point is the significance of the Green Movement in 2009. Just to clarify, in case readers do not remember, it was triggered by a disputed election in which Ahmadinejad was declared the winner, even though Mousavi, the other candidate, contested the result, leading to large protests. That episode effectively resulted in the strategic marginalization of the so-called reformist faction within the Islamic Republic from the state apparatus and state power. This had incredibly important consequences for subsequent protests, because before 2009 the Islamic Republic was often able to remain flexible vis-à-vis popular mobilization. The reformist faction could articulate some of the grievances, allowing people to continue expressing their dissatisfaction through the electoral system by voting for reformist candidates. In this way, the Islamic Republic was able to absorb a great deal of social and political energy and was therefore not as fragile or brittle politically as it later became.

With the sidelining of the reformists, the state became more or less monolithic, dominated by what Western commentators often describe as hardliners or conservatives. Reformists did not disappear entirely, but they no longer wielded any significant power. At the same time, people lost faith in the reformist route to change. From that point onward, every new protest became more radical. Electoral participation dropped dramatically, even according to the state’s own statistics, which are themselves highly engineered and manipulated. Around 2017 or 2018, a famous slogan emerged: “Neither reformists nor conservatives—this is the end of the story.” In effect, people were saying that they no longer trusted either faction, which meant that they were now seeking radical change in the state itself. In their view, the Islamic Republic had to go.

In the most recent protests, we can also see that there was no reference to any possible alternatives within the establishment or the regime, and the slogans were overtly radical. Many of these slogans had appeared in previous protest waves as well, but from the limited footage I have seen, the key difference was the level of determination shown by protesters in confronting the security forces. They fought them in the streets and, in some cases, even chased them away. This is why, on the 8th or 9th of January, the regime deployed the IRGC. There are also many reports suggesting that the regime brought in militias from Iraq—the Shi‘a militias of the PMU, or Hashd al-Shaabi—as well as other foreign elements of the so-called axis of resistance that it could mobilize. The idea was that, because they were foreigners, they would have no relatives or social ties that might restrain their actions.

So, the density was there, and the scale was there, but organization was not necessarily present—and that is something we may want to discuss further.

Why Repression, Not Legitimacy, Remains the Regime’s Decisive Pillar

Free Iran Protest in Toronto, Ontario: A large group of demonstrators marches south along Bay Street. Photo: Cameron Ballantyne Smith.

In assessing whether the Mullah regime is approaching a decisive rupture, which indicators matter most analytically: elite fissures within the clerical–security nexus, defections or hesitation within coercive institutions, breakdowns in fiscal extraction and strike coordination, or erosion of regime legitimacy within religious networks? How should these signals be weighted relative to one another?

Dr. Kamran Matin: Almost all of these signals are present in some form, but at least since 2009—going back to that critical moment—the Iranian state, the Islamic Republic, has ruled primarily through coercion rather than consent. It still retains the support of a small segment of Iranian society—perhaps 10 to 15 percent at most, and maybe closer to 10 percent. For the rest, it relies on brute force: repression, torture, imprisonment, surveillance, and so on.

If I use Gramscian language, there were periods when a form of hegemonic governance existed, combining coercion with consent. Consent was generated through elections—however engineered they may have been—but also through internal plurality and factional diversity. Reformists and hardliners coexisted, and people could choose one over the other. At the time, many Iranians used to say that they were choosing the “bad” over the “worse.” That option, however, was removed after 2009. From then on, there was effectively only the “very bad” to vote for.

All the other indicators you mention are also present: dire economic conditions, a deep crisis of regime legitimacy, a lack of future prospects, international isolation, and geopolitical weakening—especially since October 7 and developments affecting the so-called proxy forces in the region, the fall of Assad, and related events. Without sheer violence, the Islamic Republic would not be standing. We can see this clearly in the current round of protests as well. Millions of people took to the streets across Iran, in both small towns and large cities, and yet within two nights the regime killed so many people that it managed to force the population back into their homes.

I would say—and this is not just my view, but one shared by scholars of revolution—that it is not enough for a population simply to reject the way it is ruled for a revolution to succeed. For a revolution to succeed, the state must also be unable to repress in the way it has. As long as the repressive and security organs of the state are both willing and capable of suppressing protests, the regime is likely to survive. This is precisely what we have seen over at least the past ten years. So, I think this is the most important indicator.

An indirect confirmation of this can be seen in the way the 12-day war last summer paved the way for the current protests. Militarily, people saw that the Islamic Republic was unable to defend itself. A large number of the most senior commanders of the IRGC were killed on the first day, and the so-called axis of resistance forces disappeared from the political scene, at least temporarily. This created the impression that the state was far more fragile than before, which encouraged people—or gave them the courage—to act as they did this time.

On top of that, there was a statement by Trump, which initially emboldened the protesters. But we know what happened afterward: he changed his position, and the threat of intervention, at least for now, disappeared. This again demonstrates how vital the physical, coercive power of the state remains for keeping it intact and for sustaining the current elite in power. The moment it changes, the Islamic Republic will fall.

So, everything now really depends on whether the coherence of the security apparatus and the repressive organs of the state can be maintained in the period ahead.

Many Symbols, No Common Project

Building on your work on societal multiplicity and the nation’s Janus-like form, how should we interpret the coexistence of competing symbolic projects in the streets—monarchist iconography, republican imaginaries, feminist slogans, and multi-ethnic frames? Under conditions of uneven and combined development, does this plurality enable a Gramscian “national-popular” articulation, or does it risk fragmenting sovereignty claims in ways that invite external instrumentalization?

Dr. Kamran Matin: I cannot remember the exact words, but Lenin has this famous line that says revolution brings together the most extreme, diverse, and different forces into some sort of unplanned alliance against the status quo. So, it is not surprising that we see very different forces—ideologically, politically, and socially—on the streets. Like most revolutions, these protests in Iran are defined more by opposition to what exists than by a shared vision of the alternative that each actor seeks to establish.

Historically, it is in such contexts that an organized political party or movement can harness this massive social energy toward a particular political objective. This role was played in 1979 by Ayatollah Khomeini, a charismatic leader who was able, in some ways, to direct the revolutionary movement. He was vague enough to appeal to all sections of society, while at the same time being very clear in his opposition to the monarchy. This was central to how he built a hegemonic force, as he managed to present the particular interests of Islamists as the general interest of society as a whole. This, of course, ended once the revolution succeeded, when we saw how even Khomeini had to rely on massive violence to consolidate the post-revolutionary state.

At present, we have a great diversity of social and political forces and classes, but the opposition lacks two crucial things. First, it lacks organization on the ground—again, with the partial exception of Kurdistan, where Kurdish parties have a long history of organized politics. I am sure there are clandestine networks in Kurdish cities and elsewhere, but nothing comparable exists in the rest of Iran, for a variety of reasons. One key reason is that since the 1980s the Islamic Republic has invested almost everything in the physical destruction of the left: mass executions, imprisonment, forced exile, and, even in exile, hundreds of assassinations of dissidents and political leaders. Anyone who could potentially have played a leading role was eliminated.

As a result, we lack organization, we lack charismatic figures, and neither the left nor the liberals possess organic intellectuals in the Gramscian sense. A national-popular front or bloc, in Gramsci’s formulation, also requires organic intellectuals who can articulate a hegemonic project capable of uniting otherwise disparate sectors of the opposition. We do not have this, and in some respects we see the opposite dynamic at work.

Among monarchist forces gathered around the son of the former king, Reza Pahlavi, there is a strong unwillingness to engage in collaboration on an equal footing with other opposition forces. They seek dominance rather than partnership and claim a form of quasi-divine legitimacy. It is almost treated as the birthright of Reza Pahlavi to become the next monarch of Iran, or at least to lead a transitional period. As a result, meaningful cooperation with other parties or opposition groups becomes impossible. The so-called Georgetown alliance during the “Women, Life, Freedom” movement collapsed very quickly precisely for this reason, as he withdrew rather than accept equality with others.

Another major source of fragmentation within the opposition is the deployment of an exclusionary Iranian nationalism—by monarchists, by liberals in the opposition, and by the Islamic Republic itself. After the 12-day war, there was a sudden surge in nationalist symbolism: the promotion of Cyrus the Great, the erection of his statue in Tehran, and the revival of symbols of ancient Iran by the regime. The Islamic Republic understood that Islamist discourse could no longer mobilize society, but that nationalist appeals still might. At the same time, this further alienated the non-Persian peripheries of Iran, which in fact constitute more than half of the population: Azeri Turks, who make up roughly 20 to 25 percent; Kurds, around 10 to 15 percent; as well as Arabs, Baluch, Turkmens, Gilaks, and others.

Most of these groups are unwilling to contribute to the rise to power of forces that already seek to subordinate them politically and culturally. This denial of Iran’s internal diversity by large sections of the opposition creates a major barrier to forming a genuinely powerful nationwide opposition bloc. Each opposition group on its own is too small or too weak to overthrow the regime, yet the discourses they deploy and the strategies they pursue also prevent them from agreeing even on a minimal common program to confront the Islamic Republic.

I would argue that, in addition to massive levels of violence, what sustains the regime is precisely the fractured nature of the opposition, its disorganization, and the absence of a political discourse that appeals equally to the main segments of society. The Women, Life, Freedom slogan did manage to do this briefly. However, as I noted earlier, it was quickly undermined both by internal divisions within the opposition and by the regime itself. Within weeks, an alternative slogan emerged—“Man, Motherland, Development”—which is strikingly reminiscent of fascist slogans from Mussolini’s Italy. Woman, Life, Freedom versus Man, Motherland, Development. Until recently, Reza Pahlavi even displayed this slogan on his profile on X. I think the brief hegemonic role played by the Women, Life, Freedom slogan was significant, but it was actively undermined by substantial sections of the Iranian opposition. 

Necro-politics in Practice: How the Regime Governs Through Maiming, Fear, and Exemplary Violence

Pro-government demonstrators march in support of the regime after the weekly Friday Prayers on January 05, 2018 in Tehran.

Reports describe systematic maiming, mass casualties, and targeted injuries amid an intensifying crackdown under communication blackouts. How should we conceptualize this repertoire of violence—deterrence, exemplary punishment, strategic mutilation, or biopolitical terror—and what does comparative evidence suggest about its medium-term political effects on mobilization, radicalization, and regime cohesion?

Dr. Kamran Matin: The Islamic Republic has a very complex necro-politics. Even the treatment of the dead has a particular political economy. In addition to what you mentioned in the question, many people have been shot in the eyes. This is very deliberate, because the aim is for those who are injured to remain alive and visible, walking around in public, so that others see this as the fate of anyone who opposes the regime.

This is particularly striking because, in the past, the Islamic Republic sought to conceal its violence. Even now, it is only in recent years that there has been some acknowledgement that in 1988 around 3,000 to 5,000 political prisoners were executed. At the time, almost nobody knew; most Iranians were unaware because it was carried out entirely in secrecy. By contrast, today state media actually show the protests and even display bodies in morgues and other locations.

What is also remarkable is that when families of those who have been killed go to collect the bodies of their loved ones, they are required to pay for the bullets that were fired at them. For each bullet, they are reportedly asked to pay around seven million Iranian tomans, which at the current exchange rate is roughly $80 or so—I cannot recall the exact figure. In other words, families are literally required to pay for the bullet that killed their loved one in order to retrieve the body.

On top of that, there are reports that families are offered the option of signing a document stating that the person who was killed was a member of the Basij, the pro-government militia—thus turning them, quote-unquote, into a “martyr.” This allows the government to claim that large numbers of security forces were killed by terrorists allegedly backed by Israel, the US, and others. If families refuse, the bodies may be buried in unmarked graves, and the family may never know where their loved one is buried. In some cases, families are confronted with this choice in addition to the financial demand.

I should add, however, that demanding money for bullets or for the return of bodies is not new. This practice was widespread in the 1980s, especially in Kurdistan, but also in cases involving political prisoners who were executed or hanged in prisons. The Islamic Republic therefore deploys violence in a highly complex and sophisticated manner. It uses exemplary punishment to deter others from protesting and to instill fear across society. When people see injured individuals everywhere, or witness bodies being withheld, mishandled, buried anonymously, or simply disappearing, the psychological impact is deeply traumatizing.

In the short term, this strategy may work for the regime by frightening people into submission. In the longer term, however, it produces enormous anger and even hatred within society—among individuals, families, and communities. This accumulated resentment is likely to erupt again in future protest waves. Yet the Islamic Republic is almost built on periodic crises; in a sense, it thrives on them. Just before we began, I saw a pro-regime journalist or activist claiming that, thanks to God, these recent events have extended the life of the Islamic Republic by fifty years.

They feel that they have not only repressed the protests, but that the very fact of having done so successfully has given them a sense—not of legitimacy, but of unassailability. This, in turn, makes people think twice before participating in the next round of protests.

Why Iran’s Opposition Is Unprepared for Transition

During revolutionary moments, the question of political succession becomes decisive. How would you characterize the current opposition landscape in terms of organizational depth, ideological coherence, and governing capacity, and what risks emerge when maximalist anti-regime unity is not matched by institutional preparedness for transition?

Dr. Kamran Matin: The opposition has none of these: neither organizational depth, nor a clear plan, nor the human capacity to run post-regime governance in any meaningful way at the moment. The material elements are there, but they are not organized in any coherent way. Again, I would distinguish between the situation in Kurdistan and the rest of Iran, because there are important differences.

I could talk for hours about this, but briefly, there are organized Kurdish parties with bases very close to the border, and there is an organic connection with society. As we remember from 1979, the moment the Shah fell, the Kurdish regions became autonomous and self-governing because this organizational infrastructure was already in place. We see similar patterns in Rojava after 2011, or in Iraq after the 1991 Kuwait War. But in the rest of Iran, we do not have this, and I think this absence is absolutely crucial.

Apart from state violence, this lack of an organized alternative—ideologically, discursively, and organizationally—is a key factor keeping the regime in power. Many people ask themselves, “What comes next?” And this is precisely why many were reluctant to take to the streets in the past. One reason Reza Pahlavi’s name was chanted in some protests is that people believed he had a workable plan, although we later saw that he really did not. He called on people to go to the streets and suggested that help was on the way, echoing Trump’s rhetoric, and obviously nothing materialized. In fact, many people now blame him for a significant portion of the casualties in Iran. So, overall, the opposition is rather weak.

Trump’s Iran Rhetoric Aims at Behavioral Change, Not Regime Change

US Presidential candidate Donald Trump held a campaign rally at PPG Paints Arena in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on November 4, 2024. Photo: Chip Somodevilla.

US President Trump’s call for Iranians to “keep protesting” and his claim that “help is on its way” mark an unusually explicit rhetorical intervention. How do such statements reshape internal protest dynamics, regime threat perceptions, and escalation logics—and where do they sit on the spectrum between moral encouragement, strategic signaling, and coercive diplomacy?

Dr. Kamran Matin: I think for Trump all three are objectives—strategic signaling, coercive diplomacy, and moral encouragement. But ultimately, he is pursuing his own interests. And his primary interest is not regime change, but a change in the regime’s behavior. That is crucial, because it means that Trump may seek to instrumentalize the protests in order to extract a deal from the regime.

The problem is that Khamenei, the Supreme Leader, cannot make such a deal, because it would be perceived as a form of submission. Any agreement—at least one based on US conditions—would be seen as a defeat of the regime. And those conditions are unacceptable: no nuclear enrichment, no long-range missiles, and no proxy forces. These are core pillars of the Islamic Republic, so they simply cannot concede them. This means that even though US preference is for behavioral change rather than regime change as such—and this is clearly articulated in the US National Security Strategy released a few weeks ago, as well as reflected in recent US interventions, such as in Venezuela—this strategy has inherent limits.

Trump was hoping that internal pressure within Iran, combined with the threat of intervention, could be leveraged to secure a deal that would advance US objectives in the Middle East, open Iranian markets, and distance Iran from China, among other goals. This has not happened. And the United States does not appear to have a clear plan for what to do if a deal proves impossible. This is where US and Israeli positions diverge to some extent. For Israel, any attack would need to lead to a radical outcome; otherwise, it would incur the costs of Iranian retaliation without achieving a clear political objective. This helps explain the confusion over recent developments, including why Trump has not followed through on what he initially appeared to signal.

That said, revolutions have historically been aided—often indirectly and unintentionally—by foreign powers. The October Revolution succeeded in part because of World War I and the weakening of the Tsarist regime. The French Revolution was linked to a severe fiscal crisis driven by geopolitical rivalry with England. More broadly, many classical revolutions have occurred in the context of war and wider geopolitical crises. In this respect, Iran is not exceptional.

The key issue, however, is whether there is sufficient organization on the ground to take advantage of these geopolitical and inter-imperialist rivalries. Unfortunately, to a large extent, there is not.

Why Rojava’s Future Lies Beyond Counterterrorism

Turning to Syria, with Kurdish-held areas under renewed assault and the future of Rojava/AANES increasingly uncertain, what are the plausible political trajectories—forced integration, negotiated autonomy, territorial rollback, or renewed international guarantees—and which are structurally most likely given current regional alignments?

Dr. Kamran Matin: The current so-called transitional government is clearly no different in terms of what it wants to do with the Kurdish parts of the region in Syria, or with other minorities. We have seen what it has done to the Druze and the Alawites. The fact that it is not doing more, or has not been able to do so, is because there has been resistance against it. So, I would say the long-term aim of this government is to control the entirety of Rojava, while making some sort of symbolic concessions—such as the decree announced yesterday (January 16, 2026)  recognizing the Kurdish language to some extent—but without any constitutional guarantee of self-governance of the kind the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES) demands.

From what happened in Aleppo in recent weeks, we know that this followed very quickly after a meeting in Paris between Israel, the Syrian transitional government, and the United States; I believe Turkey was present as well. It seems there has been an agreement that areas under SDF or Rojava control should be limited to east of the Euphrates. At the moment, the SDF is being evacuated from other regions. Leaders of the Autonomous Administration might think this will become the natural border between their autonomous region and the rest of Syria, and that may be the case in the short term, but I am confident that pressure will continue and that the government will push for more.

The Syrian government is prepared to make every concession possible to Israel in order to prevent intervention and then, with the help of Turkey, to deal with the Autonomous Administration in a gradual manner. Initially, it was thought that the so-called resolution process in Turkey—including PKK disarmament and dissolution—was the price the Kurdish movement was paying to keep Rojava safe. But I think this assessment has changed. At first, the Turkish state was clearly worried about Israel attempting to recruit allies in the region, as well as about Iran and the possibility of Iran fragmenting. Over time, however, Turkey regained its momentum. Now it is using the so-called resolution process precisely to keep the PKK, or whatever it is now called, out of the Rojava scene, and in fact to use the absence of conflict with the PKK in order to concentrate its efforts on Rojava.

I have written about this in recent weeks and days, and I do not know how much the Rojava leadership reads or listens to external advice, but I think they should be very concerned. This process is not going to end. Pressure will advance step by step, and attempts will be made to retake territory incrementally. The Autonomous Administration must ensure that its relationship with the United States is not based solely on counterterrorism and ISIS. It needs to push for some form of political recognition and for a decentralized or federal system. Otherwise, renewed conflict between the two sides is inevitable.

Regional Powers Prefer a Weakened Iran to a Collapsing One

Iran-Map

How do regional power calculations—the Erdogan regime’s anti-Kurdish security doctrine, Damascus’s centralization drive, Russia’s brokerage role, and US/Gulf/Israeli threat perceptions—intersect with Iran’s internal crisis, and what implications does each Iranian outcome (hardening, fragmentation, or transition) carry for the fate of Rojava?

Dr. Kamran Matin: This is a very complex question. In terms of existing states—not just Turkey, but also the transitional government in Syria—they are ultimately driven by a vision of a centralized, unified, and homogeneous state. In societies characterized by a multiplicity of peoples, this model clearly does not work except through violence. And violence begets violence, which is precisely what we have witnessed over the past hundred years.

In that sense, any event or process that leads to de facto decentralization of power in these states—for example, what happened in Iraq in 2003—is viewed as a major threat. Turkey still regrets having allowed the KRG to emerge in the first place, and it now harbors similar concerns regarding Iran. As a result, Turkey—which is ostensibly a regional competitor of Iran—is now openly assisting the Islamic Republic. It opposes US intervention and provides intelligence against Kurdish armed forces, because it believes that the moment the Iranian state weakens, another Kurdish entity could emerge. Such a development would have direct implications for the Kurdish question within Turkey itself.

In this sense, the Kurdish question is a challenge for all these states, but at the same time it also constitutes the basis for their tactical cooperation—and even strategic alignment—at critical moments. If Iran were to weaken significantly, or if a situation similar to Syria in 2011–12 were to unfold there, this would pose a serious challenge for Turkey. At the same time, it is important to note that Iran has a large Azeri Turkish population. Some observers are concerned that Turkey might seek to instrumentalize this segment of Iranian society through Turkish nationalist sentiments in order to establish a foothold in northwestern Iran. There is also the question of Azerbaijan and whether the two might coordinate in such a scenario.

That said, from the perspective of regional states, the overall calculus appears to be that a weakened Islamic Republic is preferable to one that collapses entirely. This helps explain why Arab states, too, have urged the United States not to attack Iran. A breakdown of central authority and a deeply unstable Iran are outcomes that alarm everyone. At the same time, while many regional actors are hostile to the Islamic Republic, they also do not want to see an unmanaged, uncontrolled, and unplanned collapse of the Iranian state. As a result, they are actively seeking to prevent such an outcome.

Protest against ICE following the killing of Renee Nicole Good, a 37-year-old Minneapolis woman fatally shot by a US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent during a federal operation, in Foley Square, Manhattan, NYC, USA on January 8, 2026. The fatal encounter has sparked national outrage and protests demanding accountability and reform of ICE use-of-force policies. Photo: Dreamstime.

Virtual Workshop Series — Session 9: Populism, Crime, and the Politics of Exclusion

On January 8, 2026, ECPS convened Session 9 of its Virtual Workshop Series, titled “Populism, Crime, and the Politics of Exclusion.” The session was chaired and moderated by Dr. Helen L. Murphey, who framed exclusionary populism as a dual process that claims to empower an “authentic people” while simultaneously criminalizing stigmatized “others.” Assoc. Prof. Christopher N. Magno introduced the concept of criminal populism, showing how legal scandal and criminality can be transformed into political capital in the United States and the Philippines. Dr. Russell Foster examined how Austria’s FPÖ and France’s Rassemblement National legitimate anti-migration agendas through securitization and Gramscian metapolitics. Saga Oskarson Kindstrand drew on ethnographic research on the Sweden Democrats to challenge assumptions that populism undermines party organization. Discussants Hannah Geddes and Vlad Surdea-Hernea provided incisive reflections on theory, methodology, and democratic implications.

Reported by ECPS Staff

On Thursday, January 8, 2026, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) convened Session 9 of its Virtual Workshop Series, titled “We, the People” and the Future of Democracy: Interdisciplinary Approaches. Held under the session theme “Populism, Crime, and the Politics of Exclusion,” the session brought together an interdisciplinary group of scholars to explore how populist actors mobilize crime, security, and moral threat to redefine political belonging—deciding who counts as “the people,” who is constructed as a dangerous “other,” and how these distinctions increasingly enter mainstream politics.

The workshop opened with welcoming and technical remarks by ECPS intern Stella Schade, who introduced the session’s structure, speakers, and discussants on behalf of ECPS, situating the event within the Center’s broader commitment to comparative and theoretically grounded research on populism.

The session was chaired and moderated by Dr. Helen L. Murphey (Postdoctoral Scholar, Mershon Center for International Security Studies, The Ohio State University), whose introduction provided the session’s conceptual frame. Dr. Murphey emphasized that exclusionary populism operates through a dual logic: empowering an “authentic people” while simultaneously stigmatizing “others” as criminal, threatening, or disorderly. She highlighted how populists present themselves as reluctant political actors pushed into action by crisis and elite failure, while claiming exclusive authority over law and order. Importantly, she noted that these narratives are no longer confined to populist outsiders but increasingly circulate within mainstream party competition. Her framing raised core questions about the evolution of exclusionary discourse, its entanglement with crime and popular culture, and its implications for democratic norms and party organization.

Dr. Christopher N. Magno, who is an Associate Professor in the Department of Justice Studies and Human Services at Gannon University, presented “From Crime Shows to Power: The Rise of Criminal Populism,” introducing criminal populism as a framework for understanding how leaders transform criminality into political capital. Moving beyond penal populism, Dr. Magno showed how indictments and scandals are reframed as proof of authenticity and persecution, strengthening affective ties with supporters while eroding accountability. Drawing on cases from the United States and the Philippines, he demonstrated how criminal identity becomes a political asset.

Dr. Russell Foster, Senior Lecturer in British and International Politics at King’s College London, School of Politics & Economics, Department of European & International Studies, delivered “The Legitimization Process of the FPÖ’s and the NR’s Migration Policies,” examining how radical right parties in Austria and France mainstream anti-immigration positions through securitization and cultural adaptation. Using a Gramscian lens, he argued that migration is increasingly criminalized by being linked to anxieties over housing, welfare, and identity, while stressing that radical right trajectories vary across national contexts.

Saga Oskarson Kindstrand, PhD candidate at Centre for European Studies and Comparative Politics, Sciences Po, presented “Anti-Party to Mass Party? Lessons from the Radical Right’s Party Building Model,” challenging the assumption that populism rejects mediation. Based on ethnographic research on the Sweden Democrats, she argued that populist discourse can sustain dense party organization by moralizing membership, valorizing “ordinary people,” and cultivating urgency—re-legitimating the party as a representative vehicle.

The presentations were followed by engaged interventions from Hannah Geddes (PhD Candidate, University of St. Andrews) and Dr. Vlad Surdea-Hernea (Postdoctoral researcher at the University of Natural Resources and Life Sciences in Vienna). Their critiques highlighted shared strengths in challenging established assumptions while probing issues of novelty, case selection, class, and internal party power. Together, the session offered a cohesive examination of how populism reshapes crime, exclusion, and democratic representation.

Moderator Dr. Helen Murphey: The Adaptive Politics of Populist Exclusion

Dr. Helen L. Murphey is a Postdoctoral Scholar at Mershon Center for International Security Studies, The Ohio State University.

Dr. Helen Murphey opened Session 9 of the ECPS Virtual Workshop series by situating the panel within both a timely political moment and an evolving scholarly debate. Beginning with acknowledgements to ECPS, the presenters, and the audience, she framed the session—Populism, Crime, and the Politics of Exclusion—as an interdisciplinary conversation addressing one of the most pressing intersections in contemporary populism research.

From the outset, Dr. Murphey emphasized that exclusionary populism, the unifying focus of the three papers, is defined by a dual logic of empowerment and marginalization. While such movements claim to restore political voice to what they portray as the “authentic people,” they simultaneously construct stigmatized “others,” frequently associating these groups with crime, insecurity, and social disorder. Within this framework, exclusionary populists present themselves as the guardians of law, order, and security—values they argue have been abandoned by political elites and mainstream parties.

Dr. Murphey further highlighted a recurring feature of populist self-representation: the claim to reluctant political engagement. Populists, she noted, often depict themselves and their constituencies as driven into politics by crisis rather than ideology. Importantly, she observed that exclusionary narratives are no longer confined to overtly populist actors. Instead, themes of identity, securitization, and exclusion have increasingly migrated into the political mainstream, raising urgent analytical and normative questions.

Against this backdrop, Dr. Murphey outlined several core challenges for scholars. These included understanding how exclusionary populism evolves over time, how it becomes entangled with issues such as crime, security, and popular culture, and what consequences these developments hold for democratic norms and institutions. She also underscored the need to examine how populist claims to represent “the people” shape internal party structures and collective self-perceptions.

The session’s papers, Dr. Murphey argued, respond directly to these questions through diverse case studies, methodologies, and theoretical approaches. Together, they illuminate understudied dimensions of exclusionary populism, particularly its emotive, affective, and cultural dynamics. She stressed that exclusionary boundaries are often deliberately vague and malleable, allowing populist actors to recalibrate identities and grievances as they become embedded within formal political systems.

Concluding her remarks, Dr. Murphey invited participants to reflect on the democratic implications of these shifting contours of exclusion and passed the floor to the first presenter, signaling the start of a discussion aimed at deepening understanding of populism’s complex and adaptive nature.

 

Assoc. Prof. Christopher N. Magno: “From Crime Shows to Power: The Rise of Criminal Populism”

Christopher N. Magno is an Associate Professor, Department of Justice Studies and Human Services, Gannon University.

In his presentation titled “From Crime Shows to Power: The Rise of Criminal Populism,” Associate Professor Chris Magno of Gannon University offered a provocative and theoretically ambitious account of how crime has been transformed from a political liability into a powerful resource within contemporary populist politics. Drawing on more than two decades of comparative research on the Philippines and the United States, Assoc. Prof. Magno advanced the concept of criminal populism as a novel analytical framework for understanding the convergence of populism, spectacle, and criminality in democracies under strain.

Assoc. Prof. Magno began by situating his scholarly trajectory, noting that his doctoral research at Indiana University Bloomington examined crime as a form of political capital in the Philippines. Upon encountering the concept of penal populism—most notably developed by John Pratt—he initially understood it as a phenomenon largely confined to “crime warrior” politicians in liberal democracies. Penal populism, as Dr. Magno summarized, rests on punitive political agendas framed through wars on drugs, immigration, terrorism, and communism, all of which rely on the symbolic criminalization of racialized and marginalized “others.” This logic, he argued, reinforces a rigid division between a supposedly threatened, morally upright “people” and a dangerous, criminalized “them.”

However, Dr. Magno emphasized that this framework became insufficient to explain emerging political developments, particularly following the electoral success of Donald Trump. Trump’s rise, despite—or rather through—his extensive legal controversies, revealed a critical shift: criminality itself had become a political credential. What was once disqualifying was now openly embraced and weaponized. This realization prompted Dr. Magno’s ongoing book project with New York University Press, which conceptualizes criminal populism as a distinct political formation in which legal transgressions, indictments, and scandals are transformed into sources of legitimacy, authenticity, and mass mobilization.

At the core of Dr. Magno’s argument is the claim that contemporary populist leaders increasingly use criminal records and legal persecution as political assets. Rather than denying or concealing wrongdoing, criminal populists reframe themselves as victims of corrupt elites and politicized justice systems. Through this performative inversion, courts, arrests, and trials are converted into stages of political theater. Indictments become “badges of honor,” reaffirming outsider status and strengthening emotional bonds with disillusioned publics. Dr. Magno argued that this pattern is no longer exceptional but increasingly normalized across democratic systems.

Empirically, Dr. Magno illustrated this trend through comparative electoral data. In the United States, multiple candidates facing criminal investigations secured victories during the 2018 midterm elections, while Trump retained strong electoral viability amid multiple felony indictments. In the Philippines, the pattern was even more pronounced: a majority of candidates facing trials, investigations, or prior convictions won office in both the 2019 and 2025 elections. These developments, Dr. Magno argued, signal a broader transformation in democratic norms, where accountability no longer weakens political authority but may actively enhance it.

To systematize these dynamics, Dr. Magno introduced four ideal-typical categories of politicians who use crime as political capital. The first type, crime warrior politicians, derive legitimacy from aggressively positioning themselves as defenders of law and order. Importantly, Dr. Magno challenged the assumption that this model is exclusive to the political right, pointing to Bill Clinton as a key example. Clinton’s embrace of tough-on-crime rhetoric and legislation, Dr. Magno showed, coincided with rising incarceration rates—particularly among African Americans—even as crime rates declined. This illustrated how penal populism operates through fear amplification, crime propaganda, and the mobilization of state institutions to produce political popularity.

The second category, criminal politicians, consists of leaders who openly acknowledge their own criminal acts and convert them into claims of authenticity. Here, Dr. Magno highlighted Rodrigo Duterte, who repeatedly confessed to killing individuals and promised further extrajudicial violence as part of his war on drugs. Duterte’s electoral success, Dr. Magno argued, rested on his unapologetic embrace of criminality, which resonated with voters seeking decisive, transgressive leadership. Dr. Magno underscored that thousands of documented drug war killings—now under consideration by the International Criminal Court (ICC)—form part of this broader pattern of fascistic criminal governance.

The third type, political criminals, refers to figures whose acts of protest, rebellion, or resistance are criminalized by authoritarian or corrupt regimes. While Dr. Magno acknowledged historical examples such as Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King Jr., his focus remained on the Philippine context, where dissidents and “coup leaders” have repeatedly transformed criminalized identities into electoral success. These actors, he argued, exploit state repression and the weaponization of law to build political legitimacy grounded in defiance.

The fourth and most extreme category, fascist criminal politicians, combines elements of crime warrior and criminal politician archetypes. These leaders both fight crime and commit it, openly violating legal norms in the name of order. Duterte again served as Dr. Magno’s paradigmatic case, as did Trump in the US context. Fascist criminal politicians, Dr. Magno argued, exceed constitutional limits, normalize extrajudicial violence, and blur the boundary between legality and criminality, thereby hollowing out democratic institutions from within.

Throughout the presentation, Dr. Magno emphasized that criminal populism operates through spectacle, emotion, and selective victimhood. Crime narratives overwhelmingly focus on street crime and marginalized populations, while elite crimes—such as corruption, environmental destruction, and corporate abuse—remain conspicuously absent. By exploiting public anxieties around crime, criminal populists redirect grievance away from structural inequalities and toward racialized or impoverished “others.”

In concluding, Dr. Magno stressed that criminal populism represents a profound challenge for democratic accountability and the rule of law. As criminality becomes normalized—and even celebrated—as political capital, the moral foundations of democratic legitimacy are fundamentally altered. His framework, grounded in long-term comparative research, offers scholars a critical lens for understanding how crime, populism, and power increasingly converge in contemporary political life.

 

Dr. Russell Foster: “The Legitimization Process of the FPÖ’s and the NR’s Migration Policies”

Dr. Russell Foster is a Senior Lecturer in British and International Politics at King’s College London, School of Politics & Economics, Department of European & International Studies.

In his presentation, Dr. Russell Foster (King’s College London) delivered an unsparing account of how radical-right actors in Europe have helped convert anti-immigration positions—from once-fringe commitments into increasingly mainstream political common sense. Dr. Foster framed the topic as “depressingly apt” for the opening of 2026, situating the discussion within an atmosphere of accelerating radical-right momentum across multiple democracies. The talk unfolded as both an analytical map of party evolution in Austria and France and a conceptual argument about how exclusionary politics gains legitimacy not only through party strategy, but through deeper shifts in political culture.

Dr. Foster began by crediting his co-author, Professor Murat Aktas, for extensive work on the paper, and then outlined the study’s two guiding angles. The first angle concerns variation: while the literature often treats the “European radical right” as a coherent phenomenon, Dr. Foster argued that cross-national similarities can be superficial. Beneath shared slogans and familiar tropes lie national, regional, and local differences that shape how exclusionary policies are narrated and why they resonate. The second angle concerns explanation: to understand why criminalizing narratives about migration become broadly accepted, the paper draws on a Gramscian lens of hegemony and metapolitics. This approach shifts attention away from a purely top-down reading of party manifestos and campaign rhetoric toward the cultural conditions and everyday anxieties that make certain claims feel plausible and politically actionable.

A key motif running through Dr. Foster’s remarks was the rejection of singularity. Just as his earlier work on Euroscepticism emphasized that there are “multiple Euroscepticisms,” he suggested there are likewise multiple radical-right narratives across Europe. These narratives do not operate as simple copies of one another, nor do they necessarily mirror developments in the United States or other global contexts. The implication is methodological as well as political: comparative scholarship must resist flattening diverse trajectories into a single model, especially when trying to explain “mainstreaming”—the process by which exclusionary frames seep into the broader political field.

To clarify what sort of “right” is under examination, Dr. Foster offered a three-part typology. First, the “old right” was described as traditional Burkean conservatism: authority, tradition, continuity, and a largely upper-middle-class politics of maintenance—an establishment conservatism he suggested is increasingly in retreat. Second, the “extreme right” was characterized as overt neo-Nazism—an imagery of violent subcultural extremism that persists but remains socially stigmatized. Third, and central to the paper, the “radical right” was presented as a hybrid formation—what he noted has been dubbed “hipster fascism”: a politics that borrows flexibly from across the ideological spectrum, including the center, segments of the left, and even environmental themes, while retaining an exclusionary core. This radical-right formation, in Dr. Foster’s telling, is defined less by crude nostalgia than by adaptability, presentation, and the strategic recalibration of stigma.

Within this conceptual frame, migration served as the primary policy domain through which Dr. Foster traced legitimization. He argued that the framing of immigration has shifted over time: from earlier narratives that treated immigration as a cultural or even “medicalized” threat (suggesting contamination or societal illness) toward a securitized and criminalized framing in which migration becomes a question of law, disorder, and public safety. This shift is not presented as a sudden invention of the 21st century, but rather as an intensification—an acceleration in the last two decades as radical-right parties have learned to link migration to broader anxieties over housing, employment, education, healthcare, and welfare. Migration, in this storyline, becomes a “master key” issue: a flexible explanatory device used to connect disparate social grievances into one coherent politics of blame.

The comparative heart of the talk focused on two parties: Austria’s Freedom Party (FPÖ) and France’s Rassemblement National (RN). Dr. Foster treated them as parallel case studies—both emerging in the postwar period, both marginal for decades, both rising sharply in the late 20th and early 21st centuries—yet he emphasized meaningful divergences in origins, strategy, and their relationship to governing power.

The FPÖ’s trajectory was presented as beginning nearer to the extreme-right pole. Founded in the mid-1950s after Allied withdrawal, the party was described as having been established by former National Socialist members, with its early leadership tied directly to the political structures of the Nazi era. Yet by the 1980s, Dr. Foster argued, internal shifts began to reposition the party toward respectability. The election of Norbert Steger in 1980 signaled an attempt at liberalization—an effort to appear more acceptable within democratic competition. That repositioning accelerated, paradoxically, with the rise of Jörg Haider in 1986, who pushed the party toward a sharper radical-right orientation and expanded anti-immigration messaging amid rising public anxieties. Dr. Foster described the 1990s as a further pivot point: as the Cold War ended, the party moved away from overt anti-communism and leaned more heavily into Euroscepticism and immigration. The critical marker of political breakthrough arrived in October 1999, when the FPÖ entered government in coalition with the Austrian People’s Party—an early European example of a radical-right party moving from protest to power.

Dr. Foster highlighted that, by the mid-2000s, the FPÖ’s anti-immigration rhetoric hardened again, especially under Heinz-Christian Strache, who intensified a discourse less rooted in older ethnic nationalism and more structured around a contemporary anti-immigrant logic. This repositioning proved politically advantageous as large-scale migration to Europe increased after the Arab Spring in 2011 and during the 2014–2016 migration crisis. Austria’s role as a transit country enabled the FPÖ to translate transnational events into national alarm. Dr. Foster stressed a recurring populist technique here: deliberate vagueness. By keeping categories of threat flexible, parties can “capitalize upon external events they did not cause,” retrofitting those events into an already-available narrative of invasion, insecurity, and criminality. Migration, in the FPÖ’s rhetoric, was reframed not simply as economic pressure or cultural change, but as Islamic threat—and, by extension, as a security and crime issue.

RN’s trajectory was presented as both comparable and distinct. Unlike the FPÖ’s immediate postwar origins, RN’s predecessor emerged in the 1970s, shaped by different historical sediments—anti-communism, antisemitism, and the aftershocks of imperial collapse. Under Jean-Marie Le Pen, it was positioned firmly within the idiom of the old extreme right. Yet, as with the FPÖ, Dr. Foster identified a major strategic shift from the late 1990s into the early 2000s, as the party began to pursue broader acceptability.

Where RN diverged, Dr. Foster argued, was in its relationship to governing responsibility. The FPÖ’s entry into coalition government created exposure: it had to bear consequences for policy and compromise, and it suffered popularity losses—before later recovery. RN, by contrast, had often gained influence without holding national executive power. This produced a distinct mode of mainstreaming: rather than governing directly, RN shaped the agenda indirectly by exerting pressure on mainstream parties, pushing them to adopt securitized, criminalized migration narratives. Dr. Foster characterized this as a metapolitical accomplishment: a capacity to move the boundaries of what can be said and proposed, even from opposition. He invoked the logic of “sniping from the sidelines,” where radical-right actors influence policy while evading the accountability costs of implementation.

Across both cases, Dr. Foster located a shared acceleration after major systemic shocks: the 2007–2008 global financial crisis, the migration crisis from 2014 onward, and—most sharply—the post-pandemic period. These moments, in his framing, expanded the “demand side” for exclusionary narratives. Economic insecurity, housing pressures, fraying trust in institutions, and general disillusionment with traditional politics created a receptive environment for frames that depict migration as the cause of scarcity and insecurity. The parties’ “supply side” strategy—softening overt extremism, abandoning some older tropes, and adopting a “veneer of civilization”—was presented as the enabling condition for legitimacy. But the deeper engine of mainstreaming was cultural: anxieties already present in society, which radical-right actors interpret, amplify, and bind into a coherent story.

Gramsci’s metapolitics served as the theoretical hinge connecting these observations. Dr. Foster treated the radical right less as the creator of public anxiety than as a highly skilled reader of it—an actor adept at sensing “where the wind is blowing socially” and attaching grievances to a politics of exclusion. This is where transnational movements and digital communication enter the account: social media, he argued, has made metapolitics easier by enabling the circulation of narratives, images, and everyday performances of relatability. He pointed to RN’s “de-demonization” efforts and the cultivation of ordinary, lifestyle-based authenticity—politics staged as casual normality rather than elite ritual—as a key mechanism in making radical-right actors seem socially acceptable even as exclusionary policy content remains.

Dr. Foster closed by returning to two concluding claims. First, both parties demonstrate a broad shift from medicalization toward criminalization of immigration—recasting migrants less as cultural outsiders and more as threats to social order. Second, both parties illustrate an evolution from hard Euroscepticism toward what he termed “Euro-alternativeism”: not seeking exit from the European project, but seeking to reshape it into a fortress logic of securitization, sometimes articulated through “great replacement” imaginaries. Ending on what he called a “delightfully cheerful note,” Dr. Foster left the audience with a bleak but analytically precise picture: legitimization is not a single act but a process—built through national histories, cultural anxieties, strategic moderation of style, and the steady normalization of criminalized boundary-making as everyday political reason.

 

Saga Oskarson Kindstrand: “Anti-Party to Mass Party? Lessons from the Radical Right’s Party Building Model”

Saga Oskarson Kindstrand is a PhD candidate at Centre for European Studies and Comparative Politics, Sciences Po.

In her presentation, Saga Oskarson Kindstrand (Sciences Po) offered an analytically focused intervention into a familiar assumption in populism studies: that populist politics rejects mediation and therefore tends to weaken or bypass party organization. Drawing on ethnographic fieldwork with members of the Sweden Democrats, she proposed a more paradoxical reading. Rather than treating populism as the enemy of party-based linkage, her account suggested that populism can actively enable dense organizational ties—reviving, in certain respects, the relational grammar of the mass party.

Kindstrand opened by positioning the paper as an article-in-progress, shaped through multiple presentations as she refined its framing and contribution. Her starting point lay in the “older” literature on crisis of representation and party linkage—work that diagnoses how political parties attempt to sustain relationships with constituencies under altered social conditions. Within that debate, populism is often treated as either an endpoint of party decline or as a form of democracy that can function without parties. She pointed to formulations—such as Peter Mair’s notion of “populist democracy” as popular democracy without parties—as emblematic of a broader scholarly tendency to presume that populism seeks immediacy: direct, unmediated expression of “the people’s will” rather than representation through institutional intermediaries.

From this theoretical backdrop, Kindstrand sketched a synthetic map of how populism is commonly described across different schools. In an ideological register, populism is frequently opposed to constitutionalism: pluralism, minority rights, checks and balances, and procedural mediation are depicted as constraints on popular sovereignty. In a strategic register, populism is often associated with charismatic leadership and the circumvention of established party channels. In organizational accounts, populism appears as personalization, weak institutionalization, “anti-party” self-presentation, memberless structures, and publicity-driven linkages that privilege direct communication over internal deliberation. Across these literatures, she argued, distinct approaches converge on a shared conclusion: populism tends toward the rejection of mediation.

She then introduced the empirical puzzle that motivated her research. In recent years, a number of radical right populist parties in Europe have moved against this expectation by investing heavily in local organization: building branches and party offices, recruiting fee-paying members, and creating structured opportunities for activism and advancement. Some scholarship has even suggested these parties are “reviving the mass party.” This development, she noted, is puzzling not only because it appears to contradict the theoretical image of populism as anti-intermediary, but also because it defies a standard cost–benefit logic used in membership studies. Membership in stigmatized radical right parties can carry high social costs and limited career returns; yet membership has expanded nonetheless. The persistence of this pattern, she argued, signals that something beyond material incentives is sustaining attachment.

Against this backdrop, Kindstrand proposed a perspective shift: to understand contemporary radical right party-building, one must look at linkage—and crucially, from the viewpoint of members themselves. Her question was not merely whether these parties have organizations, but how they construct and sustain relational bonds with members and supporters, and how members perceive their own role in democratic representation. Do members believe in the party’s mediating power? Do they experience the party as a vehicle connecting “ordinary people” to decision-making, akin to classic mass-party imaginaries?

To answer these questions, Kindstrand presented findings from an ethnographic study conducted in Sweden with Sweden Democrat party members across different levels of engagement. Her research design combined interviews with participant observation of meetings and local activities, treating the party as a discursively constituted institution—one whose meaning and authority are continually produced through language, practices, and shared self-understandings. She briefly contextualized the Sweden Democrats as Sweden’s radical right party: long present as an organization since the 1980s, but relatively new as a parliamentary actor after entering the Riksdag in 2010, and widely discussed as having attracted segments of former Social Democratic and working-class support.

The presentation’s central claim was deliberately counterintuitive: the Sweden Democrats’ ability to cultivate mass-party-style linkage was not despite their populism, but because of it. Kindstrand organized this argument around three recurring themes that emerged in her fieldwork—each a familiar populist motif, but reinterpreted through the lens of party-based representation.

The first theme concerned representation through resemblance. Members repeatedly described the party as constituted by “ordinary Swedes,” an identity portrayed as self-evident yet rarely defined with precision. This vagueness, rather than weakening the category, appeared to strengthen its adhesive power: “ordinary” became an inclusive boundary marker for those who felt socially and politically unseen. Members articulated a belief that because the party was made up of ordinary people, it knew what ordinary people wanted. Political competence was grounded not in expertise or institutional experience, but in proximity to everyday life—being “close to life” and therefore able to “see the problems.” In this narrative, mainstream parties were represented as detached elites—physically and symbolically located in Stockholm, distant from the lived consequences of political decisions, especially on immigration. Populism’s anti-establishment stance thus operated as an epistemology: it claimed that social truth is accessible primarily through lived experience, and that ordinaryness is itself a credential.

Within this representational frame, Kindstrand observed a notable moral grammar: the party was described less as a career ladder and more as a citizen duty. Members frequently rejected careerism, portraying involvement as an obligation to society rather than a self-development project. This moralization of participation aligned with the second theme: the centrality of formal membership. For her respondents, political engagement was not primarily defined as online activism, symbolic support, or loose affinity. The preferred—and valorized—form was formal membership: paying dues, attending meetings, doing paperwork, and participating in the internal rhythms of party life. Joining was narrated as an act of courage, precisely because it entailed stigma. Members spoke of losing friends, encountering hostility from relatives, and feeling threatened—especially those who had joined earlier, when social sanctions were reportedly stronger. Paradoxically, these costs intensified meaning rather than deterring engagement: stigma functioned as a purification mechanism that distinguished insiders from outsiders and reinforced loyalty.

Kindstrand suggested that exclusion from mainstream legitimacy did not only consolidate identity; it also shaped the form of participation. When open political identification carried risk, members became less reliant on visible online expressions and more dependent on in-person networks and local organizational spaces. In her telling, this dynamic inadvertently strengthened local party structures, creating a participatory ecology resembling older mass-party models. She gestured toward Duverger’s “bullseye” model of affiliation—layers of involvement and commitment radiating outward—as a better descriptor of what she observed than the flatter, looser organizational patterns often attributed to contemporary parties.

The third theme was efficacy: a strong belief in the party as a vehicle for change. Here, populism’s crisis narrative did substantial work. Members frequently described Sweden as being in decline and framed politics as urgent, even existential. Mainstream parties were cast as self-serving and unresponsive, and this perceived abandonment strengthened the conviction that only the Sweden Democrats could correct national trajectory. Members described their engagement in future-oriented moral terms—securing safety for children, protecting the country, and restoring order. These narratives produced an affective intensity that made membership meaningful even when individual influence seemed limited. A single member might not “make change,” but being a small part of a collective project was experienced as politically consequential.

In this sense, Kindstrand’s presentation reframed populist anti-establishment discourse as an engine of organizational reproduction. By narrating crisis, betrayal, and urgency, the party could present itself as a historically necessary instrument—echoing, in form if not in content, the early 20th-century mass party described by political scientists Richard S. Katz and Peter Mair as the vehicle through which underrepresented groups gained access to state power. The difference in Kindstrand’s account was that the Sweden Democrats’ linkage was not built on class-based identity in the classic sense. Although class references sometimes surfaced, “ordinary people” functioned as a more flexible identity—portable across occupational categories and capable of absorbing multiple grievances.

Across the presentation, Kindstrand revealed an underlying argument about populism’s relationship to mediation. While populist theory often equates populism with immediacy and hostility toward intermediaries, Kindstrand’s material suggested that populism can also re-sacralize the party as a mediator—so long as the party is imagined not as an elite institution but as an extension of “the people.” In that configuration, the party does not appear as a barrier between citizens and decision-making; it appears as the people’s own organizational body, an authentic conduit into the state. The party becomes legitimate precisely because it claims to negate the distinction between representatives and represented.

Kindstrand concluded by returning to the initial puzzle: why radical right populist parties can sometimes build membership organizations that mainstream parties struggle to sustain. Her findings suggested that the answer may lie less in incentives and more in meaning—specifically, in how populist narratives transform membership into moral duty, stigma into solidarity, and organizational routines into evidence of authenticity. In that sense, the Sweden Democrats’ organizational strength did not contradict populism’s representational claims; it operationalized them. Rather than dissolving party mediation, populism—under certain conditions—can rebuild it on the basis of resemblance, loyalty, and crisis-driven efficacy.

 

Discussants’ Feedback

Hannah Geddes

Hannah Geddes is a PhD Candidate at the University of St. Andrews.

In her role as discussant, Hannah Geddes (PhD Candidate, University of St. Andrews) offered a thoughtful and analytically generous set of reflections on the three papers, emphasizing their shared strength in challenging entrenched assumptions within populism research. Her feedback moved sequentially through the presentations, combining close engagement with constructive questions that opened space for further theoretical development.

Geddes began with Saga Oskarson Kindstrand’s paper, which she described as particularly compelling in its formulation of a clear and persuasive puzzle. She highlighted the strength of the paper’s core move: juxtaposing dominant expectations about populism—especially the assumption that populist politics is inherently immediate, anti-institutional, and resistant to party organization—with empirical evidence that complicates those claims. Geddes praised the way the paper reframed what appears, at first glance, as a contradiction into a productive analytical insight. Rather than presenting the findings as merely “filling a gap,” she noted, the paper demonstrated that the assumed contradiction between populism and party mediation may not exist in the way the literature presumes.

A central point of appreciation concerned Kindstrand’s constructivist and interpretivist approach. Geddes emphasized that treating parties as discursively constituted institutions was not a limitation but a key strength of the research. She suggested that this perspective allows the analysis to move beyond causal explanation toward a richer understanding of what parties mean to members, and how those meanings reshape assumptions about organization, representation, and linkage. In this respect, Geddes encouraged the author to lean more explicitly into this epistemological stance, arguing that the paper’s contribution lies precisely in unsettling dominant theoretical categories rather than establishing linear causal relationships.

Turning to the presentation on the Austrian Freedom Party (FPÖ) and France’s National Rally, Geddes expressed strong interest in the analysis of immigration and its linkage to broader social concerns. She noted that the discussion of how migration is connected to housing, welfare, and security anxieties was particularly illuminating. Drawing on her own context in Scotland, she raised questions about the demand side of radical-right politics—specifically whether economic grievances are the primary driver, or whether cultural and securitized frames take on autonomous force. She also queried how economic discontent becomes translated into cultural or criminal narratives, describing this transformation as one of the most intriguing aspects of the presentation.

Geddes further reflected on the argument that radical-right parties employ deliberate vagueness in their rhetoric. She questioned whether this vagueness should be understood as intentional strategic ambiguity or as a more structural feature of how such parties operate and adapt to shifting grievances. While not pressing for a definitive answer, she highlighted the analytical value of interrogating intention versus structure in explanations of mainstreaming and legitimation.

In her comments on Chris Magno’s presentation on criminal populism, Geddes again returned to the theme of challenging assumptions. She commended the paper for moving beyond the familiar figure of the “crime warrior” politician and for demonstrating how criminal identity itself can be transformed into political capital. Particularly striking to her was the idea that political actors can simultaneously embody both crime-fighting authority and criminal transgression—an apparent contradiction that the empirical material showed to be politically viable. Geddes posed a key question here: whether this duality represents a contradiction that politicians consciously exploit, or whether they have succeeded in fusing these identities into a coherent populist performance.

Finally, Geddes raised questions about the role of class across the presentations, especially in relation to crime and migration. While acknowledging the emphasis on race and immigration, she suggested that class dynamics—particularly their apparent reconfiguration or blurring—deserved further exploration, especially in European contexts where traditional class cleavages appear increasingly unsettled.

Concluding her remarks, Geddes praised all three presenters for clearly articulated puzzles, empirical richness, and a shared willingness to rethink core assumptions in the study of populism. Her feedback framed the session as a cohesive and intellectually stimulating exchange that advanced both theoretical and empirical debates.

Dr. Vlad Surdea-Hernea

Dr. Vlad Surdea-Hernea is a Postdoctoral researcher at the University of Natural Resources and Life Sciences in Vienna.

In his role as discussant at the session, Dr. Vlad Surdea-Hernea, a Postdoctoral Researcher at the University of Natural Resources and Life Sciences Vienna, offered a set of analytically probing and methodologically oriented reflections on the three papers. His feedback emphasized their shared ambition to unsettle established assumptions in populism research, while also pressing presenters to clarify conceptual scope, empirical grounding, and causal claims.

Dr. Surdea-Hernea began by endorsing Hannah Geddes’s earlier observation that all three papers were united by a willingness to challenge dominant frameworks. Turning first to Assoc. Prof. Chris Magno’s paper on criminal populism, he described the conceptual intervention as innovative and intellectually stimulating, particularly in its move beyond penal populism toward criminality as political capital. At the same time, he raised a historical question about novelty. Drawing attention to early twentieth-century precedents—such as socialist candidates in the United States who campaigned explicitly as convicted prisoners—he questioned whether criminal populism should be understood as an entirely new phenomenon or as a contemporary reconfiguration of a longer-standing strategy. He suggested that tracing such antecedents could strengthen the framework by clarifying what is genuinely novel and what represents continuity.

A second point concerned the relationship between theory and evidence. While praising the conceptual originality of the argument, Dr. Surdea-Hernea cautioned that some empirical illustrations risked appearing adjacent rather than integral to the theoretical claims. He encouraged a tighter integration, arguing that the empirical material should serve as the backbone of the conceptual innovation rather than as illustrative side notes. In his view, the project’s real potential lay not in assembling compelling anecdotes, but in advancing a coherent framework for understanding how crime, populism, and legitimacy intersect—one that could anchor broader debates.

Moving to the paper on the Freedom Party of Austria (FPÖ) and France’s National Rally (RN), Dr. Surdea-Hernea focused on comparative scope and framing. He questioned the logic of case selection by asking how the argument might travel to contexts where radical right parties have become mainstream despite the absence of large immigrant populations, such as parts of Eastern Europe. Exploring such “deviant cases,” he suggested, could illuminate whether the criminalization of migration operates similarly where migration is more imagined than experienced.

He also reflected on the paper’s discussion of responsiveness. While agreeing that radical right actors are adept at sensing social anxieties and adapting their messaging, he cautioned against formulations that might be misread as implying that responsiveness itself is normatively problematic. He encouraged clearer differentiation between democratic responsiveness and the strategic reframing of grievances through exclusionary narratives. Additionally, Dr. Surdea-Hernea suggested that the role of mainstream center-left and center-right parties during and after the 2014–2015 migration crisis deserved greater attention. Within a Gramscian framework, he argued, it would be valuable to clarify whether radical right narratives emerged “downstream of culture” or whether mainstream parties played a more constitutive role in shaping that culture through their responses to crisis.

In his comments on Saga Oskarson Kindstrand’s paper, Dr. Surdea-Hernea raised two interconnected questions. First, he queried whether populist parties that emphasize membership and internal participation actually grant members greater power in practice. If they do, he suggested, this would imply a genuinely distinct organizational form—one that may require rethinking what is meant by a “party” as an institutional vehicle. Second, he pointed to the empirical status of members’ claims. Assertions that populist parties are composed of “ordinary people,” he noted, are at least partially testable through demographic data on class, education, and age. Whether such claims are accurate or not would not undermine the argument, but each outcome would carry different theoretical implications—either confirming real organizational distinctiveness or revealing the power of belief and persuasion within party discourse.

Concluding, Dr. Surdea-Hernea emphasized that these questions were offered in a constructive spirit. Across all three papers, he saw strong foundations for further development and praised the session as a rich and engaging contribution to ongoing debates on populism, representation, and exclusion.

Questions from Participants

Chair Dr. Murphey opened the floor to audience participation by inviting collective reflection on the discussants’ feedback and the presenters’ arguments. She also highlighted a written comment from an audience member, Dr. Heidi Hart, who echoed Hannah Geddes’s earlier question to Chris Magno regarding the paradox of anti-crime rhetoric advanced by actors who themselves engage in or normalize criminality. Dr Hart noted the timeliness of this issue in light of a recent shooting of a US citizen in Minnesota and encouraged reflection on how such events intersect with the performative dimensions of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) rhetoric and enforcement practices. Her intervention underscored how criminal populism operates not only discursively but also through real-time securitized performances by state actors.

Dr. Murphey then directed a question to Dr. Russell Foster concerning his typology of right-wing politics—distinguishing between the “old right,” the “extreme right,” and the contemporary radical right. While the old right was described as grounded in Burkean notions of tradition, she observed that today’s radical right also mobilizes appeals to “tradition,” albeit in reconfigured forms. Citing cultural battles over gender roles and family structures, Dr. Murphey asked whether this suggested a transformed, rather than abandoned, relationship to tradition—raising the possibility that tradition itself has become a more flexible and strategically redeployed resource within radical right politics.

Dr. Bulent Kenes followed with a question addressed to Saga Oskarson Kindstrand, drawing on his close observation of Swedish politics. He asked whether the organizational and discursive strategies identified among the Sweden Democrats were mirrored by mainstream parties, particularly in light of the Tidö Agreement, which has drawn center-right and even Social Democratic actors closer to radical right framings. Dr. Kenes queried whether similar narratives on criminality and migration were diffusing across the party system, suggesting a broader process of normalization and contagion beyond the populist radical right itself.

Responses by Presenters

Assoc. Prof. Chris Magno’s Response

In his response to the discussants’ feedback and audience questions, Assoc. Prof. Chris Magno offered clarifications that further situated his concept of criminal populism within a longer historical and comparative arc, while also addressing questions of class, identity, and apparent contradiction.

Dr. Magno began by engaging directly with Dr. Surdea-Hernea’s question regarding novelty. He agreed that the use of criminal identity as political capital is not a recent invention, stressing that his book project explicitly traces its roots to the colonial period. In the opening chapter, he examines how state power itself emerged through crime during the US colonization of the Philippines, arguing that many of the core elements of criminal populism—eugenics, racial othering, criminalization, propaganda, militarized policing, and surveillance—were forged in imperial contexts. He introduced the idea of a “colonial feedback loop,” whereby techniques developed in colonial governance later return to the metropole and are redeployed in contemporary democratic politics. This historical framing, he explained, is central to his comparative analysis of the Philippines and the United States, and challenges the assumption that criminal populism is a phenomenon confined to the Global South.

Responding to questions raised by Hannah Geddes on contradiction and class, Dr. Magno emphasized that criminal populists actively manipulate identities associated with poverty and marginalization. He illustrated this with examples from the United States, noting how Donald Trump transformed his mugshot into a fundraising and mobilizing tool, intentionally aligning his criminalized image with populations historically subjected to criminalization, particularly African Americans. Similarly, in the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte maintained extraordinarily high approval ratings—including among lower-income groups—despite conducting a violent “war on drugs” that disproportionately targeted the poor.

Dr. Magno further extended this logic to Bill Clinton, observing that Clinton retained strong African American support even amid scandal, underscoring how representation often operates symbolically rather than materially. Across cases, he argued, criminal populism thrives on irony and contradiction: leaders claim to embody marginalized identities while simultaneously enacting policies that harm those very groups.

Concluding, Dr. Magno reiterated that while criminal populism has deep historical roots, it is in the present moment that it has crystallized into a distinct political formation—marking a shift away from traditional penal populism toward the strategic weaponization of criminality itself as a source of legitimacy and power.

Dr. Russell Foster’s Repsonse

In his response to the feedback and questions, Dr. Russell Foster offered a wide-ranging and clarifying reflection that reinforced the conceptual ambitions of his paper while acknowledging areas for further refinement. Speaking from a comparative and theoretically self-aware position, Dr. Foster addressed questions of typology, tradition, case selection, responsiveness, and intentionality in the politics of the radical right.

Beginning with Dr. Murphey’s question on typology and tradition, Dr. Foster emphasized that the distinction between the old right, extreme right, and radical right should not be understood as rigid or mutually exclusive. While the old right is often associated with Burkean appeals to tradition, he argued that both the old and radical right rely on what Eric Hobsbawm famously termed “invented traditions.” In this sense, the contemporary radical right does not abandon tradition but actively manufactures new ones. Dr. Foster illustrated this through the example of gender politics, noting the emergence of highly stylized and exaggerated gender roles—hyper-masculine men and submissive “trad wives”—that would have been largely absent from radical right discourse a decade or two ago. These narratives, he suggested, exemplify how tradition is strategically reconstructed rather than inherited.

Addressing Hannah Geddes’s and Dr. Surdea-Hernea’s questions on supply and demand, Dr. Foster stressed that radical right narratives only gain traction where there is an underlying social appetite for them. While such parties may supply exclusionary frames, these frames resonate because they align with existing anxieties. Economic grievances remain central, but they are often experienced indirectly—through housing insecurity, job precarity, limited educational opportunities, and broader political disillusionment. Foster also pointed to cultural fatigue, including backlash against what some perceive as “peak woke,” as another source of demand that the radical right is adept at exploiting.

On case selection, Dr. Foster explained that Austria and France were chosen precisely because they offer contrasting yet complementary trajectories: a large state where the radical right has not governed nationally and a smaller one where it has entered government twice and rebounded electorally after failure. Responding to questions about countries with limited immigration, he argued that similar patterns can be observed in places such as Poland, Hungary, and the United Kingdom. Here, digital media and transnational narratives allow radical right actors to mobilize fear and civilizational rhetoric even in the absence of direct exposure to migration.

Dr. Foster also clarified a potential misreading of the argument on responsiveness. He stressed that the paper does not condemn responsiveness per se; rather, it critiques the framing of grievances as existential and criminal threats. When migration is securitized and criminalized, he argued, legitimate policy debates can slide into exclusionary politics with severe real-world consequences, as illustrated by the UK’s “hostile environment” policies and the Windrush scandal.

Finally, on the question of whether radical right vagueness is deliberate, Dr. Foster acknowledged the epistemic limits of intent. While it may be impossible to prove conscious strategy, he suggested that vagueness functions politically by allowing adaptability. Whether intentional or structural, this ambiguity enables radical right actors to remain relevant across shifting contexts—an adaptability that, in his view, remains one of their most consequential strengths.

Saga Oskarson Kindstrand’s Response 

In her response to the feedback and questions, Saga Oskarson Kindstrand offered a focused clarification of her argument, addressing issues of intra-party power, social composition, and the broader diffusion of populist practices within Swedish politics. Her remarks reaffirmed the analytical intent of her study while drawing clear boundaries around what the article seeks—and does not seek—to explain.

Responding first to questions about whether populist radical right parties genuinely empower their members, Kindstrand emphasized that this varies across cases. In the Swedish context, she noted, the Sweden Democrats do not grant members greater internal influence than mainstream parties and, in some respects, offer even less internal democracy. This limited empowerment is, she argued, typical rather than anomalous. Importantly, she suggested that this does not weaken her argument; instead, it deepens the puzzle. Conventional theories would expect strong incentives—such as internal influence—to drive membership. Yet high levels of commitment persist despite centralized control, indicating that other mechanisms sustain organizational loyalty.

Kindstrand linked this centralization to stigma and exclusion. Because the party is subject to intense public scrutiny and reputational risk, tight control over messaging and behavior is framed as necessary. Granting extensive autonomy to local members is perceived as dangerous, particularly as the party has moved closer to governing power by supporting a coalition. As political influence increases, she observed, efforts to discipline the organization and manage public image intensify rather than recede.

Turning to questions about whether members’ claims of being “ordinary people” are empirically accurate, Kindstrand acknowledged the legitimacy of the concern. Existing studies, she noted, suggest that Sweden Democrat politicians tend to have lower levels of education and income prior to entering politics compared to representatives of other parties—patterns that may reflect both the party’s rapid growth and its outsider status. However, she stressed that adjudicating the truth of these claims is not the primary aim of her article. Instead, her focus lies on how such claims function discursively to sustain a particular organizational form and sense of belonging.

Finally, addressing the diffusion of populist rhetoric across the party system, Kindstrand agreed that mainstream parties in Sweden increasingly echo Sweden Democrat frames, particularly on migration and criminality. This agenda-setting role, she argued, powerfully reinforces members’ sense of efficacy. Observing other parties adopt their positions is interpreted internally as evidence that the party is reshaping politics—further strengthening organizational cohesion and belief in its transformative capacity.

Closing Remarks by Dr. Helen Murphey 

In her closing assessment, Dr. Helen Murphey offered a synthetic reflection that drew together the panel’s core themes while highlighting their broader implications for the study of populism, crime, and exclusion. Thanking the presenters, discussants, and audience, she characterized the session as both intellectually engaging and conceptually enriching, particularly in its collective contribution to understanding the exclusionary dynamics at the heart of contemporary populism.

Murphey identified the construction of identity—alongside practices of inclusion and exclusion—as a unifying thread across the presentations. Central to this, she argued, was the differentiated treatment of crime within exclusionary populist narratives. Drawing on Chris Magno’s intervention, she emphasized how certain forms of criminality are attributed vertically to elites—through discourses of corruption and “draining the swamp”—while other forms are attributed horizontally to marginalized groups, who are cast as threats to social order. At the same time, she noted the paradoxical tolerance, and even valorization, of particular transgressions when they are framed as necessary tools to challenge an unjust status quo. This selective moralization of crime, she suggested, resonates strongly with criminological insights into how illegality is socially coded and unevenly sanctioned.

Murphey further underscored the adaptability of exclusionary populism, highlighting how shifting circumstances allow movements to recalibrate narratives of crime, security, and grievance. This adaptability, she argued, plays a key role in the mainstreaming of exclusionary ideas. Building on insights from scholarship on diffusion, she pointed to how legitimate socio-economic grievances—such as austerity, housing shortages, and affordability crises—become linked to politics of exclusion, thereby creating pathways through which non-populist actors adopt populist frames.

Concluding, Murphey emphasized that the session’s discussions demonstrated not only the mutability of exclusionary populism but also its capacity to reshape broader political discourse. She thanked ECPS for convening the workshop and closed by passing the floor back to the organizers, marking the session as a fitting and reflective start to 2026.

Conclusion

Session 9 closed with a clear analytical takeaway: “crime” operates less as a neutral policy domain than as a political grammar through which exclusionary populism makes boundaries appear natural, urgent, and democratically defensible. Across the three papers, crime and security functioned as elastic categories—capable of being redirected toward elites (as corruption and betrayal), toward marginalized groups (as disorder and threat), and toward institutions themselves (as politicized justice). In this sense, the session illuminated how populism’s promise of protection is inseparable from its capacity to moralize inequality and translate social conflict into hierarchies of belonging.

The discussion also underscored that exclusionary politics is simultaneously discursive, organizational, and institutional. Dr. Magno’s framework emphasized how legal jeopardy can be recoded as authenticity and persecution, turning accountability mechanisms into stages of political spectacle. Dr. Foster’s comparative analysis showed how the securitization of migration becomes “common sense” through metapolitical work: linking everyday grievances—housing, welfare, jobs—to civilizational narratives that render exclusion as prudence. Kindstrand’s ethnographic findings, meanwhile, complicated the assumption that populism merely bypasses intermediaries. Instead, populist discourse can re-legitimate party organization by moralizing membership, intensifying solidarity under stigma, and narrating participation as civic duty.

The discussants sharpened the session’s implications for research design and theory-building. Questions about historical antecedents, case selection beyond high-immigration contexts, the role of mainstream parties in producing cultural “demand,” and the empirical status of members’ claims collectively highlighted a shared methodological challenge: how to distinguish novelty from recombination, strategy from structure, and perception from measurable social composition—without reducing populism to either elite manipulation or voter pathology.

With Dr. Helen Murphey’s moderation providing conceptual continuity, the session ultimately positioned exclusion as an adaptive political technology: strategically vague, emotionally resonant, and increasingly portable across arenas and actors. The broader conclusion for scholarship is that the politics of exclusion cannot be studied only through rhetoric or electoral outcomes. It requires tracing how moral categories of criminality circulate through institutions, organize collective identities, and normalize new thresholds of coercion—thereby reshaping democratic accountability from within.

Brick Lane—London’s most iconic hub for street art and graffiti—runs from Whitechapel to Shoreditch through the heart of the East End, with nearby streets toward Spitalfields and Bethnal Green offering rich artistic stories of their own. Photo: Nicoleta Raluca Tudor.

Schrödinger’s Elite: How Populism Turns Power into Moral Performance

Populists rise to power by claiming outsider status against a corrupt elite. Yet many—from Erdogan and Modi to Trump—retain legitimacy long after becoming establishment actors. How? Yilmaz and Morieson argue that populist leaders occupy a dual identity they term “Schrödinger’s Elite”: simultaneously insiders and outsiders. They convert privilege into moral performance—projecting humility, purity, and sacrifice while governing as entrenched elites. This performance is not hypocrisy, but strategy. Whether through Trump’s theatrical diplomacy, Imran Khan’s pious nationalism, or judicial populism in Pakistan and the United States, authority is reframed as service to “the people.” The paradox reveals why populism persists despite policy failure: emotional authenticity eclipses institutional accountability, transforming power into virtue.

By Ihsan Yilmaz & Nicholas Morieson

One problem populists face when they enter government is that, by definition, they become the very thing they claim to despise: elites. Populist legitimacy is always predicated on their status as outsiders intent on cleansing a corrupt system. However, once the populist outsider becomes part of the governing elite, then it naturally becomes very difficult for them to present themselves as outsiders. One should expect that, once populists begin governing, they should lose their legitimacy. Yet this does not always occur. 

Indeed, this notion has been exploded by a generation of populist leaders who, despite making promises they could not keep and becoming insider elites, have retained their popularity and governed in some cases for more than a decade. 

The long reigns of populists such as Recep Tayyip Erdogan in Turkey, Narendra Modi in India, and the re-election of Donald Trump in the United States, demonstrate that populists can survive in power despite appearing to lose their outsider status. Moreover, many populist leaders are themselves part of the very elite they condemn. They are educated, wealthy, and deeply embedded within existing institutions. Some populist leaders have emerged from within state institutions, from the judiciary and the military, and cannot therefore be considered in any way outsiders. 

However, if populists are supposed to be outsiders battling ‘elites’ on behalf of ‘the people’, why do we see so many populist leaders emerging from, and remaining inside, the most elite sectors of society, including from state institutions and from the super-wealthy?

We call this paradox Schrödinger’s Elite. Like the famous cat in Erwin Schrödinger’s thought experiment that exists in two states at once, populist elites are both insiders and outsiders. They inhabit positions of privilege while performing rebellion. They rule as establishment figures but speak as insurgents. They preserve elite power while transforming it into a moral drama of virtue, authenticity, and at times sacrifice.

Schrödinger’s Elite

Populism, as theorist Benjamin Moffitt notes, does not destroy elite rule. Instead, it dramatizes crisis, performs outrage, uses ‘bad manners’ to present itself as authentic and ‘of the people, and ultimately presents power as service. Leaders appear both powerful and humble, dominant yet close to “the people.” This emotional theatre renews legitimacy without real change.

The idea of Schrödinger’s Elite helps explain everything from Donald Trump’s rallies to former Pakistan Prime Minister Imran Khan’s pious nationalism, and even the moral language of judges in Pakistan and the United States who claim to speak for “the people.” In each case, insiders perform as outsiders and power survives through spectacle.

Illustration of Schrödinger’s cat inside a cube surrounded by neon scientific symbols and formulas, representing quantum physics, superposition, and science education. Photo: Yana Lysenko.

The Paradox of Populist Elites

Populism pits “the pure people” against “the corrupt elite.” However, its champions are often wealthy, famous, or institutionally entrenched. For example, US President Donald Trump, a billionaire celebrity, plays the rebel in order to portray himself as an outsider in Washington and a man of the people. His crude humor and defiance convince supporters he is authentic and unfiltered. His wealth – whether real or not – is reframed as proof of independence from the effete Washington elite, which cannot buy him.

Imran Khan performs a similar balancing act. Oxford-educated and once adored as a cricket hero, he recast himself as a pious Muslim and moral crusader against corrupt, insufficiently religious elites. He promised a “New Pakistan” guided by Islamic values, blending humility with righteousness amid promises to save “the people” from corrupt rule. 

This combination of purity and power is not hypocrisy but better described as a strategy. Within this strategy, populist leaders turn privilege into moral capital. Their appeal rests less on policy than on emotion, and contra Mudde, less on ideology than on the performance of sincerity.

When Bureaucrats and Judges Turn Populist

Populist performance is not limited to politicians. Bureaucrats and judges can play the same role, posing as the conscience of the nation. Pakistan’s judiciary offers a clear example. For decades, judges have justified coups and interventions under the “Doctrine of Necessity,” claiming to act for “the people.”

In 2007, Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry became a folk hero after defying President Musharraf. The Lawyers’ Movement celebrated him as a defender of democracy, yet it expanded the judiciary’s political reach. Courts later used moral language to disqualify Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif. One judgment compared him to a mafia “Godfather,” casting legal authority as moral and national purification.

The courts presented these rulings as virtue rather than law, appearing humble while exercising vast power. This can be described as a form of judicial populism, in which authority is framed as populist representation of the will of the ‘pure’ people.

The Supreme Court’s Populist Turn

The same pattern arguably surfaces in stronger democracies. For example, when the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in Dobbs v. Jackson (2022), the majority framed the decision as restoring democracy, saying “the people” should decide. In doing so, the Court claimed moral authority even as it arguably concentrated power.

American justices are familiar public figures, and now speak publicly more than ever, often presenting themselves as moral figures rather than distant experts on law. As a result, the line between law and storytelling begins to blur, and in an already politicized court, procedure gives way to conviction. And like populist politicians, judges adopt the language of authenticity to build a direct connection between themselves and the public, increasing their own power.

Trump in Cairo

Trump’s October 2025 appearance in Cairo showed how populist performance travels. At a peace ceremony marking a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, he turned diplomacy into entertainment. He joked with Viktor Orbán and Giorgia Meloni, calling Meloni “beautiful” and boasting that even if nobody liked Orbán, he did, and “I’m the only one that matters.”

To his followers, this vulgarity was truth-telling. His refusal to play by elite rules made him seem both powerful and free. He was the most influential man in the room and the only “outsider.” This was Schrödinger’s Elite in pure form: authority disguised as rebellion.

Imran Khan’s Moral Stage

Imran Khan’s career shows how this paradox works in a postcolonial setting. Khan embodies privilege and once was regarded as a playboy, yet he built his politics on piety. He invoked Riyasat-e-Medina, the ideal early Islamic state, and urged citizens to show moral discipline. His Oxford education became proof of competence and incorruptibility.

Khan attacked the Pakistan’s elite, calling them puppets of the West and those who, as he said, “carried the begging bowl to the IMF.” He vowed “never to bend the knee to Western powers.” He accused Washington of “desecrating the Quran,” defended the Taliban as “freedom fighters,” and praised them for having “broken the chains of mental slavery.

Each statement arguably turned politics into moral theatre. His suffering, including dismissal from power, arrests, court battles, and subsequent imprisonment only reinforced his image as a truth-teller persecuted by corrupt elites. 

Emotion Over Structure

The figure of Schrödinger’s Elite shows that populism does not end hierarchy but rather reshapes it. Populist elites thrive by performing virtue, and in doing so, turn their dominance into service, their power into purity, and self-interest into sacrifice for “the people.”

This helps explain why populism persists even when it fails to deliver positive results. Accusations of hypocrisy become proof of authenticity. Challenges to legitimacy become attacks by corrupt elites. Through these reversals, leaders convert their own failings into legitimacy and authenticity.

Digital media amplifies the cycle. Outrage, alas, spreads faster than rational argument, while visibility online replaces accountability. Trump’s tweets, Khan’s livestreams, and activist judges’ speeches all use the same grammar of feeling. They create intimacy between elite and follower while bypassing institutions that might check power.

The Theatre of Power

Across regimes and ideologies, populism redefines what it means to be elite. It replaces expertise with emotion and legality with morality. The populist elite, in this way, claims to represent the people while keeping control.

In Pakistan, judges act as the nation’s conscience while consolidating power. In the US, the Supreme Court claims to restore democracy. In Cairo, Trump mocked his peers to show he was above them. Each act sustains authority through performance.

The danger of all this lies not in populism’s attacks on elites, but in its ability to moralize populist domination of politics and law. It turns power into a spectacle of virtue, and in doing so, keeps citizens powerless while making them feel morally included and thus represented. 

A Paradox That Endures

Populism’s strength lies in its contradictions. Its leaders inhabit both rebellion and authority, humility and dominance. Across democracies and hybrid regimes alike, the populist governing powers claim to speak for “the people” while reinforcing control. And that is perhaps why populism endures. Its elites have learned not to abolish hierarchy but instead found ways to perform populism while entrenching themselves in power. 

Professor Ivan Llamazares is a leading scholar of political science at the University of Salamanca.

Prof. Llamazares: Authoritarianism Is Very Weak in Argentina, Whose Popular Culture Is Deeply Democratic

In this exclusive interview with the ECPS, Professor Ivan Llamazares of the University of Salamanca analyzes Argentina’s shifting political landscape under President Javier Milei, whose recent midterm victory consolidated his power and emboldened his radical austerity agenda. Professor Llamazares argues that while Milei’s libertarian populism intensifies Argentina’s ideological divisions, it does not fundamentally alter them. “It’s a modification, an intensification—but the underlying structure is still there,” he explains. Rejecting comparisons to Bolsonaro’s authoritarianism, he insists that “authoritarianism is very weak in Argentina, whose popular culture is deeply democratic.” For Professor Llamazares, Milei’s experiment embodies an “extreme illustration” of global right-wing populism—yet remains distinctly Argentine, rooted in enduring social cleavages, economic crises, and democratic resilience.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Argentina’s President Javier Milei has consolidated his grip on power after his party, La Libertad Avanza, won nearly 41% of the vote in the midterm elections, securing 13 of 24 Senate seats and 64 of 127 lower-house seats. The landslide victory marks a major political endorsement of Milei’s radical austerity program, dubbed “chainsaw politics,” defined by deep spending cuts, deregulation, and free-market reforms. The results will allow him to advance his agenda more easily after facing frequent legislative resistance in his first two years in office. Supporters have hailed the win as a rejection of decades of Peronist economic management, while critics warn of deepening poverty, unemployment, and inequality as a result of sweeping cuts to education, healthcare, pensions, and social programs. Despite stabilizing inflation and restoring investor confidence, Milei’s reforms have sparked widespread hardship and a risk of recession. Meanwhile, a record-low turnout of 67.9% reflects rising public apathy and disillusionment with Argentina’s political class.

Against this backdrop of economic turbulence and populist consolidation, Professor Ivan Llamazares, a leading scholar of political science at the University of Salamanca, reflects on the deeper ideological and institutional dynamics shaping Argentina’s political transformation in an exclusive interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). Known for his research on ideological structuring and party system dynamics in Latin America, Professor Llamazares situates Milei’s rise within Argentina’s longstanding ideological fault lines—the enduring struggle between Peronist interventionism and neoliberal technocracy.

Professor Llamazares cautions against viewing Milei’s ascent as a structural rupture. “It’s a modification, an intensification,” he explains, “but the underlying structure is still there.” In his view, Mauricio Macri’s victory in 2015 marked a more significant political realignment, introducing a coherent center-right, pro-business coalition that shifted the ideological balance of Argentine politics. Milei, he argues, has merely intensified this trajectory, infusing it with “a new rhetoric, a new style,” and a libertarian flair.

While comparisons to Bolsonaro and Fujimori are unavoidable, Professor Llamazares stresses the limits of authoritarianism in Argentina. “Authoritarianism is very weak… even the authoritarian project itself must be very weak,”he observes. This weakness, he suggests, is rooted in Argentina’s deeply democratic popular culture, shaped by the trauma of the last dictatorship and the political learning processes that culminated in the country’s 1983 democratic restoration. Unlike Bolsonaro, Milei “hasn’t taken significant steps toward building authoritarian institutions.”

At the same time, Professor Llamazares acknowledges that Milei represents “an extreme illustration” of a global populist trend that merges moral populism, economic deregulation, and cultural grievance. Yet, he underscores that many aspects of Milei’s project are “very typically Argentine,” reflecting specific socio-economic tensions—between export-oriented elites and protectionist sectors, between dollarization and social protection, and between a cosmopolitan upper class and the working poor.

Ultimately, Professor Llamazares interprets Milei’s moment not as a new ideological paradigm, but as a cyclical populist insurgency within Argentina’s enduring political structure. “Milei represents something new in style,” he concludes, but the deeper ideological foundations of Argentine politics remain intact.

Here is the edited transcript of our interview with Professor Ivan Llamazares, slightly revised for clarity and flow.

Milei’s Victory Reflects Fear, Not Consensus

Javier Milei casts his vote in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on November 19, 2023. Photo: Fabian Alberto De Ciria.

Professor Ivan Llamazares, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: How would you interpret Javier Milei’s midterm victory in light of Argentina’s ongoing economic downturn, corruption scandals, and record-low voter turnout? What does this outcome reveal about the contemporary resonance and adaptability of right-wing populist discourse within contexts of socioeconomic precarity and institutional distrust?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: It’s a very complex issue; there are many interconnected themes, but one has to interpret this victory in the context of Argentina’s economic and political situation and the dynamics of the last decade. First of all, there is an ongoing and deep division in Argentine society in terms of economic and political projects. On the one hand, we have Peronism and Kirchnerism as a particular and dominant current with internal divisions, and on the other hand, a more market-oriented, right-wing approach that focuses on control, authority policies, favoring market mechanisms, integrating the Argentine economy into the world, less protectionism, and so on. This has been the structural basis of Argentine politics over at least the last decade.

Then there is also the current economic situation. All the problems you mentioned are very acute and very important. In fact, they also led to the defeat of Milei’s party in the Buenos Aires elections a few weeks ago. But, on the other hand, there is also fear—particularly among those sectors that endorse a more liberal economic project. There was fear that the defeat of Milei would entail economic collapse, devaluation, and an uncertain political scenario that could even lead to his removal.

That helps explain the solidification of the coalition in favor of Milei. He received 40% of the vote—40% of the 68% of people who voted—so, in total, it’s probably less than 30% of all eligible voters, about 29% of Argentine society. It’s a majority of votes, but that’s the basic picture. There are, of course, other elements. That doesn’t mean, by the way, that everyone in this coalition is happy about Milei, or likes or trusts him, but they may have preferred the continuation of his project to the uncertainties that would follow his defeat. These, in my view, are the basic elements.

Trump’s Support Boosted Milei’s Momentum, But Interests May Diverge

To what extent might Milei’s electoral resilience be contingent upon exogenous political and financial scaffolding, particularly from Donald Trump and the US Treasury? Could this episode signify the emergence of a transnational populist alliance that fuses neoliberal governance with nationalist rhetoric across hemispheres?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: The answer to the first question is “yes”—it has helped Milei very clearly. It has moved him to the upper bound of the survey projections. It is also clear that the situation of the peso, the chances of devaluation, and so on, improved over the last week due to these commitments by the Trump administration. So it has helped. I don’t know exactly how much, but it must have helped reassure people who perhaps had some doubts yet wanted to avoid the victory of Peronism, and they must have thought ‘at least we have the support of the US, which is the major economic player, and that means the project can continue in this way for a time’. So I think it has been important.

In terms of the alliance, I am not so sure. Of course, there are some ideological, personal, and political affinities—they are close to each other in some respects. But I’m not sure this is going to be so important in the future, in the sense that there are the interests of the US government and the interests of the Argentine government. The Argentine government is dependent, of course, on the US government, not the other way around. But in a situation where US policymakers make a different evaluation in terms of their calculations, they can change. Also, in this case, people refer to ideological proximity, but there are also some economic interests that may have played a role in this support. People close to the Trump political coalition, to the Trump government, also had some interests at stake in the devaluation, investments, and so on. So I would expect some connections and affinities, but I wouldn’t overemphasize them. Each government has its own interests, for sure.

The US Rescue Deepens Argentina’s Ideological Polarization

The US-engineered bailout has been widely interpreted as politically instrumental rather than economically rational. How do such interventions reconfigure Argentine imaginaries of sovereignty, dependency, and anti-elitism, which have long underpinned populist mobilizations from Peronism to Milei’s “anarcho-capitalism”?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: This is complex. On the one hand, this basically reinforces the interpretations that both Peronists and anti-Peronists have about the economic world. In the case of people who are pro-market, export-oriented, and anti-protectionist, who want to integrate the Argentine economy into global capitalism, this confirms that it is better to be associated with the major economic powers of the world, with the US market. So, it works well in that respect.

With regard to the ideological core of Kirchnerism and Peronism, in the same way, this shows that the Argentine government—this anti-Kirchnerist, anti-Peronist government—is just a puppet of international capitalism. So it doesn’t defend the Argentine economy or Argentine society, and it puts Argentina in a situation of total dependency. In fact, they could make the point, and it was a strong one, that this government has increased Argentina’s debt and that we will not be able to pay it. This is just short-term reassurance, but in the end, we face huge problems. We are in a mess.

So, in that sense, it reinforces everything. Perhaps, for people who are doubtful, this is somewhat favorable toward the right because, in this case, they have saved us. Perhaps there are some advantages in being close to these people. And that may be a little similar to the Menem situation. Menem changed Peronist policies, adopted a strategy of being very close to the United States, to international markets, privatization, and so on, and for a while, it worked. Menem won the 1995 elections. So, it works well in terms of Argentine narratives. One has to wait until the end to see how this finishes. Let’s see what happens in a year and a half—what will be the situation of the peso, the economy, whether it will be in recession or not.

Milei Won the Election, but Not ‘the People’

Given the severe austerity measures, deep welfare retrenchment, and widening inequality, how do you account for Milei’s capacity to sustain an affective and symbolic identification with “el pueblo” while advancing a project grounded in radical market orthodoxy?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: He has been successful in solidifying his coalition in order to win against the Peronists and other contenders. I don’t think this means he can portray himself as the leader and representative of a unified Argentine people. I don’t think that is possible. I think the anti-elite populist discourse had more credibility in the presidential elections, to some extent. But right now, the situation is clear. He represents a social coalition that is more middle class. If you look at the electoral results by municipality, he has performed much better in districts where income is higher than in those where income is lower, in contrast to Peronism. He has won, but the idea that “I represent the people, and Peronism represents the elite” cannot work very well right now.

Peronism is weak, but it represents many people—poor people, working-class people, those who have informal jobs, and so on. So I don’t think it works very well in terms of political rhetoric. It worked fine to win the election, but the idea of casta or anti-elite discourse doesn’t work so well right now, actually.

A New Rhetoric, not a New Structure

Crowd of protesters during the cacerolazos—the pots and pans demonstrations—against President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on November 8, 2012. Photo: Dreamstime.

In your earlier work on ideological dimensions and spatial models of Latin American politics, you emphasized the structuring role of ideology in mediating citizen preferences. How does Milei’s “anarcho-capitalist” imaginary, with its libertarian anti-statism and anti-political moralism, reconfigure Argentina’s traditional ideological continuum between Peronist interventionism and neoliberal technocracy?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: What he represents is rooted in the existing structure of ideological and programmatic confrontation. He’s not departing from it; he’s transforming it slightly—rhetorically and in terms of the social coalition. But he draws his strength from this division. In that sense, I don’t think he’s a radical transformer. He hasn’t changed the parameters of these conflicts, which have a long history in Argentina and became particularly solidified under the Kirchner governments—both Néstor Kirchner and Cristina Fernández de Kirchner.

He hasn’t altered that dynamic drastically; rather, he has given it a new flavor, emphasizing the freedom associated with the market. He has managed to appeal to young people outside formal markets—self-employed workers, young males. But he hasn’t changed the ideological structuring of the Argentine party system. That’s my impression. In a way, he has intensified everything.

This could also be seen, in a similar way, in the election that Macri won. But Macri had a more moderate profile and was more of an establishment politician or leader. Milei is disruptive, but this also has to do with the depth of the Argentine crisis and the depth of Argentina’s conflicts.

Not a Break, but an Escalation of Neoliberal Populism

Can Milei’s experiment be analytically classified as a form of “neoliberal populism,” or do its discursive, moral, and performative elements constitute a qualitatively distinct libertarian-populist hybridity that challenges conventional typologies of populist economics?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: He fits under the first label, but with a new level of intensity and new rhetorical devices. Clearly, it’s pro-market, pro–export-oriented, and neoliberal in an extreme way, with rhetoric that is much more radical. I don’t think he departs from that, but he gives it a libertarian flavor and a highly ideological tone. He draws on obscure economic theoreticians from the Austrian school, speaks in a vulgar way, is rude and disrespectful, and does not represent the elites—the cultural elites—in that sense.

However, he remains rooted in the same neoliberal populist approach. In some respects, he’s also close to Bolsonaro. So I don’t think it’s a total break with the past. By the way, this trend began before Milei, as during the Néstor Kirchner period there were already segments of the Argentine right clearly moving in this direction.

Global Resonance, Local Specificity: Milei’s Unique Populism

How does the Milei-Trump ideological affinity, which is a fusion of moral populism, economic deregulation, and cultural grievance, reflect broader transformations in the grammar of global right-wing populism, particularly its capacity to reconcile anti-establishment rhetoric with financial globalization?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: He represents this trend in a way; he’s an extreme illustration of it—very powerful in rhetorical terms, for instance. Milei embodies something clear and substantive in international terms. I also have the impression that some of these characteristics are very specific to Argentina. I don’t think this ultra-liberal, pro–financial markets, pro–export-oriented, pro-dollarization approach works as well for the radical right in other contexts. I don’t expect or see anything similar when we look at France, Italy, or Germany and when we focus on the radical right.

In some respects, he reflects a distinctly Argentine situation—for instance, the tension between export-oriented and social protection models, the importance of the dollarization process, and the fact that Argentina is an economy where many Argentines hold billions of dollars and have different concerns. There is also the need for the Argentine upper and upper-middle classes to remain strongly connected to international economic markets in different ways—financially and through exports. That’s very Argentinian.

Some elements are similar—pro-market attitudes, certain liberal ideas, anti-elitism, anti-left sentiment, an emphasis on social order, work ethic, discipline, crime and punishment, and punitive policies. But in terms of economic globalization—anti-tax sentiment, by the way, strongly anti-tax—in this respect, many aspects are very typically Argentine.

A Divided Peronism Searching for Renewal

Large crowds march nationwide in defense of public universities and state education in Argentina — one of the largest demonstrations of President Javier Milei’s government, with attendance estimates ranging from 100,000 to 500,000. The building with the image of Eva Perón can be seen in the background in Buenos Aires on April 23, 2024. Photo: Dreamstime.

Peronism has historically embodied a polyvalent synthesis of populism, nationalism, and social justice. How is the Peronist opposition reconstructing its ideological and discursive identity in the face of Milei’s anti-Peronist moral crusade and his attempt to redefine “the people” as entrepreneurial individuals rather than collective actors?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: A good question. First of all, one has to say that Peronism is in the process of reconstruction. It is deeply divided, and there is no clear national leadership. On the one hand, we have Cristina Fernández de Kirchner; on the other, other possible leaders, in particular Axel Kicillof, the governor of the province of Buenos Aires. And there might be other figures within Argentine Peronism who could move in different directions because Peronism is a very plastic, very flexible political creature. So, we don’t know exactly how it is going to evolve over the next couple of years. It’s clear that it has to change.

Historically, it has been the dominant force in Argentine politics, and it has now suffered a very humiliating defeat. The analysis of why this has happened is very complex. I would say that they will have to stick to the idea of social justice and reject many elements of the Milei platform. They don’t have alternatives in that respect. Otherwise, they will lose their reason for being, because if they are going to defend entrepreneurship and individual economic freedom, for that purpose people already have Macri, Milei, PRO, Libertad Avanza, and others. That is not possible.

They also have to appeal to trade unionists, organized labor, and new social sectors that are now more Peronist than in the past—or to sectors that are close to some elements of the Peronist platform, such as people who work at universities. So, they cannot change dramatically, but they must find a new balance, for sure. And that doesn’t mean that, when the situation is ripe, they won’t win. They could easily win future elections.

It depends on Milei’s economic performance, but it’s also true that they must find an economic platform to make national policy—and that is very difficult. Alberto Fernández totally failed. He was divided between different currents and tendencies and didn’t find an economic balance. It is possible that someone more pragmatic—let’s think, for instance, of Sergio Massa—someone very pragmatic, who might even be close to the center-right in some respects, could eventually win. This person could maintain some elements of Peronism but move in a more orthodox direction. That is possible.

But one must also keep in mind that Argentine economics and politics are highly volatile. We have many experiences of very drastic changes, and Peronism has the structure and the network to build something new on that basis.

Authoritarianism Is Weak in Argentina’s Political DNA

In comparative perspective, do you discern substantive parallels between Milei’s “chainsaw politics” and other neoliberal-populist experiments in Latin America—such as Fujimori’s authoritarian neoliberalism or Bolsonaro’s reactionary anti-globalism? How do Argentina’s institutional legacies and socio-political cleavages inflect these trajectories?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: There are some shared elements, for instance with Bolsonaro, in terms of rhetoric and economic direction. They clearly share certain themes—also with Fujimori, in his attempts to reshape the Peruvian economic framework and redefine the role of the state. On the other hand, there are important differences.

One of them is that authoritarianism in Argentina—and this is just an intuition, as there is not enough empirical evidence to confirm it definitively—is very weak. I would say so. Even the authoritarian project itself must be very weak. In fact, despite all the excesses, problems, and exaggerations, Milei hasn’t taken significant steps toward building authoritarian institutions.

That may have to do with Argentine popular culture, which is deeply democratic. It may also stem from the intensity of the trauma of the last authoritarian experience—the violence, the suffering, and the learning processes that led Argentine society to bid farewell to authoritarianism in 1983. It could also be related to the characteristics of Argentine civil and political society.

So, I don’t think an authoritarian transformation is taking place right now, and I don’t think it’s very likely. Bolsonaro attempted to do this; he failed. He failed, but at least he tried. I don’t imagine Milei doing the same. I’m not sure if he’s powerful enough, structurally speaking, within the broader right. The argument could be made that some social and economic sectors are using him, but they are not very strongly connected to him. The Argentine right is plural—there are other actors operating there—so I don’t see this happening.

A Cyclical Insurgency, Not a Structural Rupture

Inauguration ceremony of President Javier Milei at the National Congress in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on December 10, 2023. Photo: Fabian Alberto De Ciria.

Based on your long-standing research on party system dynamics and ideological structuring in Latin America, does Milei’s ascent represent a critical juncture in Argentina’s cleavage structure—a durable reconfiguration of the left–right and populist–technocratic axes—or rather a cyclical populist insurgency within an enduring Peronist framework?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: I would go for the second interpretation. It’s a modification, an intensification—there are significant changes—but the underlying structure remains the same. In that respect, my impression is that Macri’s victory was more important. Until Macri, you had the Peronists and the Radicals—Alfonsín, a Radical; then the Peronists; then Menem; then De la Rúa, who was a Radical, although he led a broad and plural coalition—and then again, the Peronists. With Macri, you had the emergence of a center-right coalition. It was not Radicalism; it was a new actor, one that was very strongly pro-business, pro-market, and so on.

So, Macri brought about a more important and enduring change, and Milei has intensified this in a way—with a new rhetoric, a new style, representing something different. But the structure of pro-market, pro–export-oriented versus protectionist, social-expenditure-driven, inflationary policies represented by Peronism remains in place. I don’t think that has changed.

Populist Style Loses Credibility Once in Office

How might we interpret the performative and aesthetic dimensions of Milei’s leadership, such as his rock-star persona, symbolic aggression, and social media theatrics, as mechanisms of discursive populist construction, mobilizing affective resonance in a post-institutional political environment?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: They are mechanisms—populist elements, populist styles—and shifts in that direction. I have no doubt about it. These elements are more powerful and usually more effective for politicians who are outside of power. They made much more sense and were more impactful in electoral terms when Milei was an outsider contending for the presidency.

Right now, I doubt that they contribute much to his success. The credibility of these elements tends to erode once a president has been in office for three or four years. So, I don’t think this will add much in the next presidential elections. He represents a different style, but it is not as credible. Now the economic alternatives are clear, and that’s what led to Milei’s triumph—not so much that he gave a concert saying, “I’m the Lion,” and so on. That’s my impression.

And who knows—perhaps in two years we will have a Peronist with a very disruptive style. It’s possible. By the way, in Argentine politics, Peronists are often disruptive in style, while the right and the Radicals tend to be more established figures. Milei has changed that, but Menem was also a disruptor—someone who represented something new in terms of style. Cristina Fernández de Kirchner was as well, in the way she spoke and mobilized. Eva Perón, too, in the past. Peronism has a long tradition in that respect, and it is interesting that Milei has taken it and transformed it in a different way, of course.

Peronism Will Likely Re-Emerge as Argentina’s Next Political Force

Murals of Eva Perón and Juan Domingo Perón in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on October 30, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.

And the final question is: looking forward, do you foresee a durable transformation of Argentina’s political field toward a libertarian-populist realignment, or will economic contradictions, institutional inertia, and popular backlash catalyze the re-emergence of a renewed progressive or Peronist counter-populism capable of reclaiming “the people” from the right?

Professor Ivan Llamazares: A very ambitious question. We cannot predict the future, for sure. Many things can happen. We could also imagine that Milei is successful—it’s a possibility—that the macroeconomy begins to work in a Chilean way in the future. That’s a possibility. We don’t know.

But if I had to make a bet, I would say that this libertarian coalition will also face strong economic problems. I’m saying that not on the basis of any future anticipation, but on the basis of previous experiences. This might be wrong, but recent experiences since the 1970s suggest that it is very difficult for such complex economic and social systems to function smoothly. That’s why Argentine economists say it is very difficult to find a virtuous balance—a virtuous cycle—in Argentine economics, and that sooner or later governments face imbalances and bottlenecks that lead to reconfigurations.

So, I would expect—though I’m not sure if in two years or in four years—a crucial change, an oscillation. And I would assume that Peronism will play a key role in that change, that it will be able to lead a different coalition, and that coalition will have to represent something quite distinct from Milei’s policies. Will they, in the end, pursue the same policies as Cristina Fernández de Kirchner or Néstor Kirchner? Probably not. They would probably have to find a different policy. But I would expect a change in the next two to four years in Argentina’s economic policy.