Professor Beatriz Magaloni.

Prof. Magaloni: Democratic Backsliding Is Not Universal; People Still Believe in Democracy, but They Want Better Delivery

Professor Beatriz Magaloni, Graham Stuart Professor of International Relations at Stanford University, argues that contemporary democratic crises cannot be understood solely through institutional erosion or elite manipulation. Drawing on her recent research, she contends that growing dissatisfaction with democracy stems largely from failures of delivery rather than a rejection of democratic values themselves. While citizens remain strongly committed to civil liberties, competitive elections, and democratic norms, many feel that democratic governments are no longer providing security, opportunity, and effective public services. In this wide-ranging ECPS interview, Professor Magaloni examines democratic backsliding, populist leadership, authoritarian resilience, polarization, immigration, and the future of democracy. Her central message is clear: people still believe in democracy, but democracies must deliver better if they are to retain public trust and legitimacy.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

At a time when democratic backsliding, populist mobilization, declining institutional trust, and the rise of high-performing autocracies are reshaping political life across the globe, scholars and policymakers are increasingly confronted with a fundamental question: Are contemporary democratic crises primarily the result of institutional erosion and elite manipulation, or do they stem from a deeper failure of democratic systems to deliver tangible benefits to citizens? Few scholars are better positioned to address this question than Professor Beatriz Magaloni, the Graham Stuart Professor of International Relations at Stanford University and one of the world’s leading authorities on democracy, authoritarianism, state capacity, and political development.

Through seminal works such as Voting for Autocracy and a distinguished body of research on authoritarian resilience, electoral politics, governance, and political violence, Professor Magaloni has transformed scholarly understanding of why citizens support political regimes and how both democracies and autocracies maintain legitimacy. In recent years, her research has increasingly focused on the relationship between democratic legitimacy and state performance, arguing that democratic survival depends not only on institutions and norms but also on governments’ capacity to deliver meaningful outcomes.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Magaloni challenges conventional explanations of democratic decline that focus exclusively on populist leaders or institutional weaknesses. While acknowledging that democratic support remains rooted in principles and freedoms, she argues that scholars have overlooked what she calls “the critical importance of delivery.” Across regions as diverse as Europe, Latin America, Asia, and North America, voters increasingly believe that “democracy is not delivering what they want” and express growing dissatisfaction with democratic governance.

Yet Professor Magaloni rejects the notion that democracy itself is losing public legitimacy. On the contrary, she insists that “democratic backsliding is not universal” and cautions against interpreting dissatisfaction with government performance as a wholesale rejection of democratic values. Drawing on extensive survey research, she emphasizes that citizens remain strongly committed to core democratic principles, particularly civil liberties and competitive elections. “There is still commitment to democratic norms,” she argues. “What people are telling us is: please deliver better.”

The interview explores why citizens increasingly support anti-establishment leaders, how authoritarian regimes cultivate loyalty through performance and selective benefits, why immigration has become a powerful driver of populist radical-right mobilization, and how democratic institutions are being challenged in both established and emerging democracies. Despite expressing concern about contemporary developments—particularly in the United States and parts of Latin America—Professor Magaloni ultimately offers a cautiously optimistic assessment of democracy’s future. Her central message is both sobering and hopeful: citizens have not abandoned democracy, but democratic governments must become far more effective at meeting citizens’ expectations if they hope to preserve public trust and democratic resilience.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Professor Beatriz Magaloni, edited lightly to enhance clarity, readability, and overall flow for publication.

We Have Missed the Critical Importance of Delivery

A banner depicts democracy as a leaf eaten by “caterpillars” named Putin, Kaczynski, Orban, Babis, Trump, and Fico on Labour Day, May 1, 2017 in Old Town Square, Prague. Photo: Jolanta Wojcicka.

Professor Magaloni, welcome! To begin, your recent article “Delivering for Democracy: Why Results Matter” challenges the view that democratic backsliding can be explained solely by elite manipulation and institutional erosion. To what extent do you believe contemporary democratic crises are rooted in a deeper failure of democratic systems to deliver security, opportunity, and public goods to citizens?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: Obviously, the process of backsliding is a complex one, and every country has some unique characteristics. In some countries, it is manifested more through fear of immigration and what that means for culture and also redistribution within a country. But what we have seen is an overarching dissatisfaction with what democracy delivers in many countries. As I argue, it is manifested differently in Europe, Latin America, the United States, Asia, and so on. But there is a common feeling among voters—and we see this in survey after survey—that democracy is not delivering what they want and that they are dissatisfied with the democratic system.

Of course, we see this in surveys with questions that ask whether people endorse democracy, whether they believe democracy is the best form of government, or whether they would be willing to accept a strongman or woman leader who would deliver what they want. We consistently observe a decline in satisfaction across the globe, and that worries us because we have been understanding democratic support as being based exclusively on principles, norms, freedoms, and the substantive normative content of democracy.

Voters are still committed to those things, but we have missed the critical importance of delivery. That is basically the content of that article. We have now extended this work, with other co-authors and myself, to the region of Latin America, asking very specific questions about what type of delivery people feel they are missing from democracies and how far they are willing to go in supporting leaders who would undermine some basic democratic norms in order to achieve economic security, health, and public service delivery that they are not observing. That is the general pattern that we are describing in that article that you just cited.

Voters Turn to Outsiders When Democratic Institutions Stop Delivering

Many scholars emphasize the role of populist leaders in undermining liberal-democratic institutions from within. In your view, why are significant portions of the electorate willing to support leaders who openly challenge constitutional constraints, judicial independence, and pluralism?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: I think it’s related to what we just mentioned. Often, dissatisfaction leads voters to reach conclusions about the current system. They conclude, for example, that political parties are ineffective. These are very unpopular institutions in the region that I study, but also across the globe. Party identification has declined. Voters also perceive legislators as incompetent. They don’t see legislators responding to what they want. They view the judiciary as something that imposes constraints. They don’t really understand specifically what each institution is doing, but we know that, for example, in Latin America, the least popular institutions, besides the police, are political parties and legislatures. 

So, these strong leaders are able to capitalize on this dissatisfaction and portray themselves as outsiders, people who do not even come from the political class. Often, they are entrepreneurs or people without political experience who are able to use very smart and strategic communication techniques, along with highly curated social media campaigns, to gain the attention and support of voters.

Often, these leaders are real outsiders. For example, in Colombia, in the elections right now—the second round that is going to take place this Sunday—the candidate, Abelardo de la Espriella, is clearly an outsider. He presents himself as a very successful entrepreneur. He even has Italian and US passports, so he has triple nationality. He portrays himself as a successful entrepreneur, very much in the way Trump tried to portray himself. And he is capitalizing on the very strong dissatisfaction among Colombians at the moment with the peace accords and what they have brought for some sectors of society, specifically those located more in the cities and in the peripheral areas of the cities, not so much in the countryside, where the war and human rights violations have been very significant and where he is not popular.

Similarly, Bukele in El Salvador was able to capitalize on a comparable dissatisfaction with the democratic political system, where two parties had alternated in power, left and right, and voters had concluded that neither of these parties had been able to deliver on something that was very dear to them, namely security. El Salvador was, back then, one of the most violent—and often the most violent—countries in the world. Even though homicides had been declining before Bukele took office, he was able to capitalize on that dissatisfaction to gain support and then, little by little, destroy democratic institutions.

We saw a similar process in Brazil with Bolsonaro, although he was not really an outsider. He was a congressman and a member of the military, but he also campaigned using the same language.

Similarly, Trump came to power with that same strategy. We also see that these leaders copy one another and have really figured out which strategies work. And there is also a very powerful dissemination of these messages through social media, and they have been very strategic in reaching across borders through different means.

Citizens Have Not Rejected Democracy

No King Protests.
Demonstrators at The People’s March, an evolution of the Women’s March, NYC, January 18, 2025. A protester holds a sign reading “Presidents Are Not Kings.” Photo: Erin Alexis Randolph.

Across Europe and North America, surveys reveal declining trust in political parties, legislatures, and public institutions. Should this be interpreted as a crisis of liberal democracy itself, or rather as a crisis of state performance and governance capacity?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: We have to be cautious about saying that voters really don’t like democracy anymore. Also, in our surveys—again, in Latin America, but I can also go back to Europe and the United States—voters understand the value of these principles. So, when we see, for example, people protesting in the United States in the No Kings march, it’s a very well-attended march. Millions of voters, citizens in this case, and non-citizens come out to protest. When you read what they are protesting about, it is often violations of very concrete democratic institutions. That’s the meaning of No Kings. They don’t like that accumulation of power. They don’t like that Trump is concentrating power, going around Congress, dominating the judiciary, and prosecuting his opponents. Also, all the human rights violations that come through the way he’s enforcing immigration.

We see that constantly. We have also been very surprised in Europe—positively surprised—by voters putting a halt to this language and really choosing parties and candidates that are more moderate. So, we have to be cautious about saying, this is just going to happen everywhere. Democratic backsliding is not universal. It’s happening slowly in several countries. We see, surprisingly, attacks on norms and institutions that we have really become accustomed to, as well as the abandonment of the language of protecting these sacred institutions. But I don’t think we can reach the conclusion that there is no normative commitment to democracy at all.

There are very specific things voters are asking for. There is dissatisfaction with economic performance, dissatisfaction with service delivery, and dissatisfaction with immigration and the way countries have dealt with it. Obviously, this creates a great deal of tension in society. Parties on the left have also been able to correct their language and the way they have approached these processes.

However, I am not so pessimistic as to say that we’re going to observe the same backsliding all over Europe. Democracy in Europe has shown itself to be quite solid, although there is obviously space for these leaders, and people are paying attention to them.

Performance Matters—Even in Authoritarian Regimes

In Voting for Autocracy, you demonstrated how citizens may support authoritarian regimes not merely because of coercion but because authoritarian systems create incentives and dependencies that shape political behavior. Do you see similar mechanisms operating today in contemporary electoral autocracies and even in some democracies?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: Yes, in my work on authoritarianism, I really paid a lot of attention to the meaning of elections and the fact that voters can choose. So, these are electoral authoritarian regimes where there is real choice, although one single party or leader holds power. We see, for example, Venezuela with Chávez and then Maduro. Now what happened in Venezuela is a different story. Staying in power for a long time while having elections—the PRI in Mexico was in power for over 70 years with multi-party elections. There was obviously limited competition, but still those elections were meaningful. We see, increasingly around the world, that this is the modal form of authoritarianism. But we also observe countries like China, for example, where there are no elections.

My work really focused on why authoritarian leaders need to mobilize support from the masses or voters in order to stay in power. Essentially, I discovered that, similarly to democracies, voters and people in authoritarian regimes evaluate leaders according to what they deliver. So, authoritarian countries that are high-performing in terms of economic growth and some redistribution tend to be more solid and more stable than those that do not have economic growth, do not redistribute, do not create public goods, and do not invest in public goods. That’s the main finding of my work: performance matters. I started my work thinking about different ways in which voters evaluate autocracies. One of them is through what I call performance legitimacy, where the more economic growth and better performance you have observed—not only in the current electoral cycle but throughout your entire life cycle—the more loyal to that regime you become.

But obviously not every authoritarian regime can deliver. Some are not that great. For example, when I studied the Mexican PRI, the PRI stopped delivering as it used to with the debt crisis of the 1980s and the economic adjustments that all countries in the developing world had to go through. At that moment, the PRI started to become more strategic in terms of how the party targeted direct benefits to buy off electoral support—what I call clientelism. In that book, I call it the punishment regime, where autocrats reward supporters with benefits, and by that, I mean, for example, the benefits of social programs. Only those sectors of society that support the autocratic regime receive those benefits, while voters who do not support the system are punished. So, I argue that this creates, even in lower-performing autocracies, an incentive for many poorer voters to turn to the autocrat.

That’s the way I explain support for Chávez during his term in Venezuela. He was able to profit from the oil boom and use those profits to create social programs, the misiones bolivarianas, and many other investments that reached sectors of society that had been left out of the democratic system. By capturing that sector of society and punishing those who did not support him, he was able to gain a lot of support through that strategy, as well as through his rhetoric and all the other things we talked about—his anti-institutionalism and his language about revolution: “We are coming here to create a completely new system that democracy never delivered.”

But then, obviously, we saw Venezuela enter a huge economic recession under Maduro, accompanied by an enormous humanitarian crisis. The oil boom was no longer there, and the system started to use more and more coercion to stay in power. So that’s what I discovered: autocrats use multiple strategies to remain in power. But if they have economic performance and effective service delivery, they don’t need so much coercion to keep people supporting them. In fact, there can be genuine support for authoritarian leaders.

Power Sharing Is Essential for Dictators

President Erdogan greeted the citizens who showed great interest after the Friday prayer in Istanbul, Turkey on April 14, 2019. Photo: Mehmet Ali Poyraz.

Your work has shown that authoritarian regimes often survive through sophisticated mechanisms of power-sharing, co-optation, and institutional adaptation rather than brute repression alone. How useful is this framework for understanding the durability of contemporary authoritarian regimes such as those in Turkey, Russia, or Venezuela?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: Very good question. As I mentioned, autocrats use a combination of strategies. They use coercion, and they have that system in place because, ultimately, they are authoritarian. They are not going to cede power willingly. They are going to repress those who openly challenge the regime. And they can do that selectively rather than massively. They do retain coercion, and that’s very important to emphasize because, ultimately, that’s going to play out in the system. But they can do many other things—and they need to do many other things—to keep themselves in power if they want to succeed as dictators or autocrats.

One of those strategies is what I call power sharing. This is not only my work; other scholars studying authoritarian regimes have also focused on this. These are ways in which autocrats bring political and economic elites into a system of redistribution of benefits, often through institutions. For example, becoming part of the ruling party or the apparatus of government brings benefits, including economic benefits, to their cronies. That’s what I call power sharing. They create incentives for those supporters—very critical supporters at the elite level of the regime—to remain loyal. Because if they don’t, that is going to make the regime very vulnerable. Definitely, that’s essential. They operate through that mechanism, often by creating different institutions that bring different players into the system and allow them to share power. Obviously, these actors do not challenge the leader. Although in some unusual cases, like Mexico, there was alternation of the leader; there was alternation of the president himself. In China, for example, we see that as well. Less often than in Mexico, but there is a system to remove the leader and choose a new one.

That’s the second strategy. And finally, what we’ve been talking about: if they don’t mobilize and maintain some support or loyalty from the masses, what I discovered is that they become vulnerable. There is always a chance that someone within the regime could challenge the leader and the system. The more dissatisfaction there is among the population, the greater the opportunity for leaders, often emerging from within the ruling elite, to challenge the system.

That’s the set of strategies that we have seen—not only in my work. My work, I think, pioneered this line of research, but there has been a great deal of work since then on how these systems combine these strategies. But we have to acknowledge that coercion remains a powerful tool. That tool is used, and it is ultimately what distinguishes autocrats from democrats. That’s what we hope—that in democracies we do not observe this form of coercion. Although we can talk a little bit about that because my current work has moved into the instruments of coercion that are used in democracies and that unfortunately persist. Many of them have to do with the police and the carceral state, which are still used in democracies in ways that no democrat would agree are correct.

But definitely, yes, power sharing is essential for dictators. When we look at Turkey or, as you mentioned, Russia today, that is a very fine balance they have to maintain. One of my co-authors on this paper also argues that delivering very visible public goods is important. My co-auther, who is a PhD student, is writing his dissertation now, has a theory that is very solid: autocrats can signal good performance by delivering very visible public goods. So, investments in infrastructure—big bridges and airports that are highly visible, especially to middle-class voters—become important signals. And autocrats do pay attention to that.

Autocrats Are Becoming Increasingly Sophisticated

One recurring theme in your scholarship is that authoritarian institutions often perform functions that outside observers underestimate. What lessons should democracies draw from the institutional adaptability of authoritarian regimes without sacrificing democratic accountability?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: Yes, I think that’s where we are underperforming as democracies and democrats. I’ve been studying the regime in El Salvador under Bukele, and I am now paying very close attention to developments in Colombia. I have studied the PRI, and I have studied Venezuela. Clearly, the strategies that autocrats are using are becoming increasingly sophisticated.

As I mentioned, there is also coordination among populist leaders in their language, as well as in their electoral strategies, messaging, and interventions. People are very worried about foreign intervention, for example, from Donald Trump in Latin American elections, signaling who the right candidate is and, interestingly, delivering messages in support of certain candidates. Increasingly, if you look at the elections today in Colombia, for example, the candidate Abelardo de la Espriella, has been incredibly strategic in ways that we did not anticipate would become so popular. His way of communicating with voters—even through performing shows and doing things that excite voters—has been effective in ways that we would not have anticipated before.

So, I think that democracies and democrats around the world have not yet figured out how to respond to these strategies in similarly effective ways that truly reach voters, especially younger generations who have become more disappointed with the system because they have not grown up in a system that has delivered in the way some democracies delivered in the past.

Performance Failures Are Driving Democratic Vulnerability

The rise of high-performing autocracies has revived debates about whether citizens prioritize outcomes over democratic procedures. Is the contemporary challenge to democracy fundamentally ideological, or is it increasingly performance-based?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: That’s a very interesting question, and there is an ongoing debate in political science. Some scholars argue that democratic backsliding and challenges to democratic institutions often stem from the fact that voters are highly polarized along partisan lines, and especially along ideological lines. There is very important work by Milan Svolik, for example, and his co-authors, which shows that if people are polarized—not only ideologically, but also through what we call affective polarization, where they dehumanize their opponents and no longer see them as legitimate players in the democratic system—this affective polarization drives voters to condone violations of democratic institutions by their preferred leader and party. They would rather vote for a non-democrat than for an opponent who is no longer, in their view, a legitimate participant in the system.

So, we see that playing out very clearly in some political systems, such as the United States. And we observe that elsewhere as well. One could, for example, look at the elections in Colombia today, or even Peru, which recently experienced similarly contentious elections and is now in the process of determining who the next president will be. It looks like Keiko Fujimori is going to be. And there was very intense polarization in both countries.

But I don’t see this as necessarily ideological polarization in either Colombia or Peru. Rather, it is a polarization rooted in how people experience the state in their everyday lives. For example, voters who live in cities and in the peripheral areas of cities experience democracy very differently from voters living in the countryside—indigenous populations and Afro-descendant populations who were severely victimized during the civil war in Colombia.

So that polarization emerges not necessarily because of left-right ideology, but because of these different experiences of what the war meant to them and what the peace accords have meant to them. There is also a very strong anti-incumbent polarization. A large sector of society does not like Gustavo Petro today. They strongly dislike Petro because they see him as someone who negotiates with insurgents and guerrillas and who has brought about changes in society that a large segment of the population does not support. That’s the polarization we observe there. Which is also left and right, so there is polarization on those grounds as well. But I want to emphasize this experiential dimension—the experience people have in their everyday lives that leads them to adopt these positions. It’s not only about policy positions and what we traditionally understood as left and right. That has always been part of democratic politics. That’s what democracies are about. They are about policy debates and competing economic visions, where one party may favor less redistribution and another more redistribution.

What we are observing now is a different set of issues that are deeply dividing voters. So, I would agree with that aspect of Milan Svolik’s work—that polarization is indeed important. But what we are discovering in our own research across Latin America—and it is very expensive to conduct all these surveys across the region; I wish I could do that worldwide—but at least in the seven countries we have studied in great depth, we find that a great deal of the problem has to do with performance in areas that people regard as essential. If a party, or especially a candidate, promises to deliver what voters feel has been missing, they are often willing to go along with that leader, even if it means undermining institutions.

What Happens in the US Shapes Democratic Trends Worldwide

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

In the United States, democratic institutions have proven more resilient than many expected, yet political polarization remains extraordinarily high. Do you see polarization primarily as a symptom of institutional dysfunction, economic grievances, or deeper transformations in political identity?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: That’s a very important and complex question, and I think that the process in the United States has surprised many scholars. Because the United States has a high level of economic development and a long history of democratic institutions, we never thought that democratic institutions would backslide in the way they have in the United States. And I agree with you that the system has proven resilient because there is still opposition. But, to my surprise, that opposition seems to be coming more from the elites.

There has been incredible success in undermining key democratic institutions, principles, and norms in the system. Part of the reason, as I see it, is that the Republican Party has not put any brakes on what Donald Trump has been doing to the democratic system. They have gone along with him, placing no meaningful constraints on him, and that has allowed President Trump to do things that we would never have predicted could happen in the United States. This includes the way he is enforcing immigration laws today in non-democratic and completely non-humanitarian ways, but also the way he has persecuted his opponents.

For example, we observe lower-level courts putting a halt to anti-democratic actions. But when it comes to the Supreme Court, we have observed the Court surprisingly going along with Trump in ways that we would never have anticipated from a system of checks and balances. So, I do believe that the system is—or at least we hope the system is—resilient, because we are still waiting to see what is going to happen in the coming elections.

We have also observed a very clear intent to manipulate electoral rules at the state level in order to give Republicans an advantage, even when they are not popular. Trump is the least popular president. So, by all means, he should not be able to retain a majority in the House with his current levels of popularity. But we also have to understand that there are many elements in the democratic system in the United States that are not majoritarian, that give a great deal of power to minorities, and the system is designed that way. For example, the Electoral College is one of those institutions in which you can still win the presidency without winning a majority of the vote, and that places considerable power in certain states. For example, I teach at Stanford, so I live in California. If you are pro-Trump, you are really powerless in that state.

So, I am less optimistic, frankly, about what I have observed in the United States. I think the backsliding has gone farther than in any country in Europe. I think Europe has proven to be more solid as a region. Turkey, obviously, is not part of the EU, and it’s different. There is clear backsliding in Turkey. That’s not Europe, but it is part of it. But the United States has really, in my opinion, gone farther than any solid democracy has gone.

Many Voters See Immigration as Both a Cultural and Redistributive Threat

Europe is witnessing the normalization of parties that were once considered outside the democratic mainstream. How should we understand the growing electoral appeal of the populist radical right and far right: as a protest against globalization, a reaction to migration, or evidence of dissatisfaction with democratic governance itself?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: You just identified the right set of reasons why we observe these parties, which are very anti-system and often employ very non-democratic language, emerging as highly popular alternatives in Europe. I would place immigration as the number one reason, and particularly what it means to European societies. I think immigration has generated a strong reaction among voters because it is perceived as a cultural challenge to their way of life. But it is also because many feel threatened within the system of redistribution. They do not want to share the welfare system with people who are perceived as non-European. So, this is in part rooted in race and culture, and there has been a very strong reaction to that. Some people perceive immigrants as dangerous, not only in terms of security, but also in terms of culture and what immigration means for European societies.

There Is Still Considerable Commitment to Democracy Around the World

Finally, if current trends continue, what do you expect democracy to look like ten to twenty years from now? Are you ultimately optimistic that democracies can renew the social contract and restore public confidence, or are we entering a prolonged period of democratic fragility and authoritarian experimentation?

Professor Beatriz Magaloni: This is a difficult question. I tend to be more of an optimist, and I do see that there is a great deal of commitment to democracy. We have talked a lot about performance and why it matters, and that is a very important aspect for democrats to consider. They have to understand how to deliver better. 

In the surveys and research that I have been conducting, there is still a strong commitment to democratic norms. People remain very strongly committed to civil liberties. They do not want to be denied the right to protest. They want to see open debate. They do not want to see a system where opponents are sent to prison. They remain committed to certain principles. In the studies I have conducted, civil liberties rank first. Competitive elections are the second most important aspect that voters value. People want elections to take place, and they want their voices to be heard. And thirdly—and this is what worries me the most—there is less commitment to the rule of law. Due process and protecting individuals from the coercive apparatus of the state are less firmly supported in the surveys I have conducted. But there is still commitment to democratic norms. What people are telling us is: please deliver better. If democrats receive this message and manage to create a system in which delivery becomes the highest priority, democracies will be okay.

What I want to emphasize, however, is that what happens in the United States plays an important role in shaping global democratic trends. As I have mentioned, President Donald Trump has been directly supporting certain anti-institutional and anti-democratic candidates and has sent very clear signals about who those candidates are. He has sent very strong signals. So, what happens in the United States is going to continue influencing the rest of the world. That is why I am paying very close attention to these elections in November and to the coming years of this presidency in the United States, because it shapes the world in ways that we never expected would be so dramatic.

I want to end on an optimistic note. One example is what happened recently in Hungary, with the electoral defeat of Viktor Orbán by TISZA, and all the mobilization around democracy, the enthusiasm at the local level, and the extensive organizing that was undertaken to finally defeat Fidesz and Orbán in Hungary. I think that is a very important lesson. While these cycles are undoubtedly troubling—I think Latin America is entering a troubling cycle of extreme populist right-wing presidencies—some of these leaders, surprisingly, have not challenged democratic institutions. For example, in Argentina, Milei has been more respectful of democracy, even though he is an extreme-right libertarian leader. But we did not observe the same in El Salvador, where we have really witnessed the destruction of democracy. We are going to be watching Colombia very closely to see what happens there.

But I do want to end with a sense of optimism. These cycles happen and I just want to emphasize that there is still a considerable commitment to democracy around the world. We simply have to be more strategic and more careful about delivering what people want. 

Professor Marlene Laruelle.

Prof. Laruelle: Liberalism Is No Longer the Only Game in Town as It Was for the Past Four Decades

Professor Marlene Laruelle argues that the contemporary challenge to liberal democracy extends far beyond electoral populism. In this wide-ranging ECPS interview, she contends that illiberalism has evolved into a substantive political project that offers alternative visions of identity, belonging, community, and political order. Rejecting the notion that liberal democracy is merely a victim of external threats, Professor Laruelle emphasizes that many illiberal movements emerge from liberalism’s own contradictions, particularly the socio-economic and cultural consequences of neoliberalism. The interview explores the future of Trumpism, Christian nationalism, Russia’s role in global ideological networks, the rise of alternative epistemic communities, and the cultural foundations of “banal illiberalism.” Despite her concerns, Professor Laruelle sees the current moment as an opportunity to rethink and renew democracy.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Marlene Laruelle, Full Professor in the Department of Political Science at Luiss University in Rome and one of the foremost scholars of illiberalism, ideological contestation, and the global challenges facing liberal democracy, argues that contemporary politics can no longer be adequately understood through the lens of populism alone. Instead, she contends that the rise of illiberalism reflects a deeper ideological transformation—one that challenges the normative dominance liberalism has enjoyed since the end of the Cold War and forces democracies to confront fundamental questions about identity, belonging, and political community.

Drawing on her extensive scholarship on illiberalism, Russia, transnational ideological networks, and democratic contestation, Professor Laruelle maintains that “illiberalism is an alternative political project” rather than merely a reactionary or anti-democratic impulse. While populism functions as a mobilizing framework organized around the opposition between “the pure people” and “the corrupt elite,” illiberalism offers a more substantive worldview that questions the foundational assumptions of the liberal order itself. In her view, understanding why illiberalism resonates requires moving beyond electoral behavior and examining the deeper social imaginaries through which citizens seek meaning, moral order, and collective belonging.

A central theme of the interview is Professor Laruelle’s rejection of the notion that illiberalism is simply liberalism’s external adversary. Instead, she argues that “liberalism is generating its own critics from within.” The social and economic consequences of neoliberal globalization, rising inequality, cultural fragmentation, and the erosion of shared forms of citizenship have created a growing demand for political projects that promise identity, security, and community. As she notes, liberal institutions often respond through procedural neutrality and technocratic solutions, while many citizens increasingly seek “belonging” and “meaningful answers.” This mismatch, she suggests, helps explain the appeal of illiberal movements across the democratic world.

Perhaps the most striking argument advanced by Professor Laruelle concerns the durability of the illiberal challenge. Contrary to interpretations that view Trumpism, Orbánism, and related movements as temporary electoral phenomena, she argues that “the illiberal offer is here to stay.” Electoral defeats may alter political leadership, but they do not eliminate the deeper cultural narratives, moral frameworks, and social aspirations that sustain illiberal politics. Indeed, Professor Laruelle believes that contemporary democracies are entering a new era of ideological competition in which “liberalism is no longer the obvious normative answer” and “no longer the only game in town, as it was for the last 30 or 40 years.”

The interview also explores the transnational circulation of illiberal ideas, Christian nationalism and its challenge to liberal pluralism, Russia’s role as an ideological laboratory rather than a “puppet master,” the emergence of alternative epistemic communities in the digital age, and the growing importance of what Professor Laruelle calls the cultural and everyday dimensions of “banal illiberalism.” Throughout, she emphasizes that the future of liberal democracy depends not only on institutional resilience but also on its ability to recover a compelling moral and social vision.

Yet despite her sober diagnosis, Professor Laruelle concludes on a cautiously hopeful note. The current crisis of liberalism, she argues, should also be understood as an opportunity—an invitation to reopen debates about the social contract, political imagination, and the kind of democratic future citizens wish to build together.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Professor Marlene Laruelle, edited lightly to enhance clarity, readability, and overall flow for publication.

Populism Mobilizes, Illiberalism Offers a Vision

Professor Laruelle, welcome! To begin, you have argued that the concept of illiberalism increasingly offers a more useful analytical framework than populism for understanding contemporary political transformations. What does the concept of illiberalism capture that populism cannot, and why do you believe the analytical focus should shift from populist mobilization to illiberal social imaginaries?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Populism is usually understood in the traditional literature—and there is a huge scholarship on it—as a kind of thin-centered ideology that is primarily organized around a binary opposition between the “pure people” and the “corrupt elite.” It is essentially a mobilizing format that can then be filled with different content, whether on the left or the right.

Illiberalism, by contrast, is a substantive ideological orientation. It frames itself as a challenge to the foundational pillars of the liberal order. It opposes individual rights in favor of more collective rights; it opposes procedural mechanisms in favor of a majoritarian, more executive-power vision of law and order; and it opposes pluralism in favor of a more majoritarian vision. So, it is an alternative political project that captures the current political moment much better than populism has been able to do. The two overlap in many respects, but not in everything.

What I also find interesting is that illiberalism invites us to understand its thickness. Why does it work? It is not only about who is voting for whom and why, but also about why it makes sense to so many people. Why are people looking for belonging and for a new moral order that goes against liberal norms? Illiberalism therefore invites us to revisit social imaginaries and to ask why the liberal democratic order now seems to be marked by a kind of empty social imaginary. I think that is the key question today. For me, illiberalism is the best analytical tool for exploring these questions.

Neoliberalism Produced Winners and Losers

Your work suggests that illiberalism should not be understood simply as liberalism’s external enemy but also as a product of liberalism’s own contradictions. Which failures of contemporary liberal democracies have most significantly contributed to the rise of illiberal movements across Europe and North America?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: I’m not comfortable with this idea that illiberalism has somehow happened to liberal democracy, as if liberal democracy were the victim of illiberalism. I think it’s important to see liberalism as generating its own critics from within, and there are different types of failures that have been producing illiberalism.

Usually, the literature looks at both socio-economic issues, because we have always associated liberalism with economic prosperity. Political liberalism going hand in hand with economic liberalism. Ands now we live, at least in the Western world, in societies where there is a strong feeling that neoliberalism has produced some losers. We have rising socio-economic inequality and a sense that neoliberalism has failed to produce both socio-economic progress and equality. So, that’s the first major source of criticism against liberalism.

The second is more on the cultural side. Liberal progressivism and liberal multiculturalism have been difficult for part of our citizens to receive as a form of shared citizenship. Instead, they have been perceived as a reversal of privileges, a kind of hierarchy of victim narratives. And there is a growing feeling that a shared community is disappearing.

What is also important is that, globally, we now live in a world where we have grown into highly atomized individualities within a social and media environment that has deeply fragmented our communities.

At the same time, liberalism tends to respond through procedural rights by telling us that institutions are neutral. It tells us that it is not there to define what is good and what is not good, but simply to preserve the neutrality of institutions. In a sense, this creates a kind of ideological vacuum, because it offers an answer that is primarily normative and institutional. It sounds like a technocratic answer, while people are looking for belonging and for meaningful answers. And that is what illiberal movements are providing. They offer meaningful answers that speak to identity and security, that provide a sense of purpose, while liberalism tends to respond through institutions, neutrality, and rights. This mismatch is one of the reasons it has become so difficult for liberalism to formulate responses that resonate as common sense for many people.

The Illiberal Offer Is Here to Stay

Many observers continue to interpret Trumpism, Orbánism, and similar movements primarily through the lens of electoral populism. Do these cases represent temporary populist waves, or are they manifestations of a deeper civilizational challenge to liberal modernity itself?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: In a sense, they can be both. You can have a temporary electoral wave and, at the same time, a deep—though I wouldn’t use the term civilizational—social transformation in the way people envision what makes us live together. I think we are witnessing both.

The fact that Orbán lost the election after 16 years in Hungary may indicate that a particular electoral cycle has come to an end. But that does not mean illiberalism has lost. It does not mean that what illiberalism represented has disappeared.

In the same way, Trump may lose the next election, but that would not mean that illiberalism, as a political project in its American version, will disappear. So, the electoral cycle is one thing. The deeper transformation—and the fact that this illiberal offer is now there to challenge liberalism and to argue that liberalism is no longer the obvious normative answer that there are alternative visions of the political order—is something that I believe is here to stay.

This is a long-run phenomenon that will likely remain with us for several decades. Depending on the country, there will be different forms of competition. Sometimes the liberal vision seems to prevail; at other times, the illiberal one appears to gain the upper hand. So, I think we are now living through an interregnum moment in which ideological competition has returned. Liberalism is no longer the only game in town, as it was for the last 30 or 40 years.

Most Illiberal Movements Are Homegrown

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s supporters listening to his speech in Balıkesir, Turkey on April 6,l 2017. Photo: Thomas Koch.

Together with Christophe Jaffrelot, you have emphasized the transnational dimensions of global illiberalism. To what extent are contemporary illiberal actors consciously learning from one another across borders, and how important are these transnational exchanges in sustaining illiberal politics worldwide?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: The transnational dimension is real, but it is important not to overstate it in terms of organizational coherence. I would resist the idea that there is some kind of coordinated international project, because that would be a mistake of interpretation. The majority of illiberal phenomena are homegrown, operating through local actors who are adapted to their own cultural contexts.

What we see instead is parallel evolution—parallel transformations of societies in different cultural settings that are producing parallel responses and parallel illiberal strategies. At the same time, there is coordination between these different forces through forms of selective borrowing. They look at what works, both in terms of shared narratives and shared techniques for becoming influential.

Of course, social media play a role, but the culture of podcasts, for example, also matters: the kinds of language that are used and the ways certain ideas are repackaged. Concepts such as civilizationalism, gender ideology, and cultural Marxism circulate across borders. And, of course, there is mutual support and solidarity among different illiberal leaders. So, some coordination may exist, and there is certainly intellectual and tactical borrowing. But I still think the domestic context remains the key one, and I would strongly resist the idea that everything is highly coordinated.

When you look closely, we have very often tended to overemphasize, for example, Russian influence or, more recently, Trump’s influence on developments in Europe. When you examine these cases in detail, you still find that domestic influences and domestic mechanisms are the primary drivers, with local actors exercising their own agency. External influence can certainly be present, but it is an additional layer rather than the key structural element.

For Many, Trumpism Will Be Remembered as a Golden Age

You have described Christian nationalism as one of the “deep stories” behind Trumpism. How do you assess the relationship between MAGA politics and broader illiberal trends in the United States? Has Trumpism become a durable ideological project that will outlast Donald Trump himself?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: That’s an important—indeed, a key—question. Trumpism is already a repackaging of many elements that were present on the right and far-right landscape in America long before Trump. It is a repackaging of these ideas around Trump’s personality. One can imagine that once Trump leaves the political scene, many of these elements will continue to exist. Some aspects of the Trump cult of personality may disappear, but much more will remain. Many cultural visions of the world—the conspiracy culture, the broader Americana tradition, and the culture of podcasting—will endure. They may acquire a different hero, or even multiple heroes, but they will persist. For a segment of the American constituency, the age of Trumpism will probably be remembered as a kind of golden age.

So, they may move beyond Trump himself, but they will continue to envision America as a genuine, deep America—a Christian national America fighting against cosmopolitan coastal elites. All of these elements are likely to remain. They may be repackaged, and of course their relationship to institutional democracy could undergo important transformations, but they will endure even after Trump has left the scene.

That is why thinking about the electoral cycle is important, but I do not think it is the most strategic consideration. Even on the day Trump loses an election, I do not think Trumpism as a political culture will disappear.

Christian Nationalism Rejects Neutral Pluralism

A Trump flag waves at a pier on Coden Beach in Coden, Alabama, on June 9, 2024. The flag bears the slogan, “Jesus is my Savior. Trump is my President.” Photo: Carmen K. Sisson.

In your recent work, you argue that Christian nationalism has evolved into an illiberal interpretation of religion. What makes contemporary Christian nationalism particularly consequential for liberal democracy, and how does it differ from more traditional forms of religious conservatism?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: What has been happening in the US with Christian nationalism is precisely that it has become politicized. It is no longer primarily about defending religious practices or institutional church interests; it is really about asserting a kind of civilizational claim over the public order. The claim is that America is a Christian nation and, therefore, that liberal pluralism cannot be neutral. If it is neutral, then it is hostile to the real identity of America. Consequently, the public order, the institutions, and the Constitution must be Christian in order to be in tune, in sync, with the country’s true identity. So, this is fundamentally an illiberal claim because it rejects the liberal premise of equal citizenship regardless of religious identity.

The other element that is really important for understanding Christian nationalism is that it essentializes political conflict. It gives a political-theological reading to every political struggle. If every political conflict is understood as a theological battle between Good and Evil—with capital letters—then, in a sense, you are pushing for your opponents to be defeated in a dramatic way, even through violence, because they represent Evil with a capital E.

So, it is really a way of essentializing political conflict and refusing any form of compromise. In that sense, it runs counter not only to liberalism but even to the basic requirements of a functional democracy. In that respect, it represents a major transformation of American political culture. Even if these elements were always present, they have now assumed a much larger dimension under the Trump administration.

Russia Amplifies More Than It Creates

Western discussions often focus on Russian military power or disinformation campaigns. Yet your scholarship points to Russia’s role as a producer and exporter of illiberal narratives. How should we understand Russia’s place within the global ecosystem of illiberal ideas today?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: I have indeed been working on this issue for years. I do not like the image of Russia as the puppet master behind all illiberal forces in Europe or the United States. Rather, I think Russia has been an incredibly productive ideological laboratory for illiberal ideas since the 1990s, for several reasons linked to the collapse of the Soviet Union. 

Russia has also functioned as a kind of legitimizing mirror. For many illiberal actors, it offered an example of developments they admired: the assertion of civilizational identity, the strong leader, the macho image embodied by Putin, and the narrative of traditional values. All of these elements helped illiberal forces in Europe and the United States feel validated in their own beliefs.

At the same time, I do not think Russia was the only model. For years, Orbán also played a similar role, embodying developments that other illiberal leaders hoped to see emerge in their own countries.

For me, it is important to understand Russia first as a precursor in articulating narratives around sovereignty, civilizationalism, traditional values, and multipolarity. Of course, Eurasianism carries its own distinctive identity and civilizational brand.

Russia should also be seen as a mirror through which illiberal forces could gain confidence in their own vision and seek different forms of support—whether through media recognition, political recognition, or, at times, financial recognition.

However, I do not subscribe to the puppet-master narrative, because I do not believe Russia created the majority of these illiberal forces. It amplifies and validates them, but, as I have emphasized, most of them are local actors with their own agency.

Russian Influence Thrives Through Decentralization

In your work on Russia’s “entrepreneurs of influence,” you challenge simplistic assumptions about centralized Kremlin control. How does this more decentralized model of ideological influence alter our understanding of how illiberal narratives travel across borders?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Russia has been very effective precisely because it was, or has been for a very long time, a weak and relatively poor state. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russia operated through a highly decentralized strategy of rebuilding influence. It allowed various ideological influencers and entrepreneurs of influence to experiment with what could work in the media sphere, in forms of hybrid—or so-called hybrid—or asymmetric warfare, and in the creation of networks of support. 

This decentralization is actually what makes Russian influence more resilient, because it does not depend on a single channel that can be shut down. Instead, it creates a diffuse ideological ecosystem that is much harder to counter. Of course, the research you are referring to was conducted before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Since 2022, things have changed considerably, and there has been a much greater closure of the Russian influence system, which has become far more centralized.

That said, if we look at how Russia continues to influence the broader contrarian ideological ecosystem, it still operates through multiple narratives. Russia has the capacity to produce narratives that resonate not only with the European far right but also with some of the contrarian leftist voices in Europe and the United States. It can speak to Muslim constituencies in the Middle East. It can appeal to anti-neocolonial forces in Africa. It can resonate with traditional anti-imperial movements in Latin America. It can also connect with more classic post-communist constituencies in countries such as Vietnam or China.

So, Russia still possesses this ability to frame a contrarian identity in different political and cultural languages, and that capacity remains intact. Of course, each of these audiences is relatively niche. But when all of these niches are taken together, they still constitute a significant network of influence.

Illiberalism Travels Through Demand, Not Design

Your research with Erica Marat argues that China and Russia often act less as exporters of illiberalism than as enablers of pre-existing domestic trends. How should we rethink the relationship between external authoritarian influence and indigenous sources of democratic backsliding?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Indeed, that is the subject of a book that will be published in a few months by Cornell University Press, titled A Farewell to Liberalism. In it, we examine six countries that have received what we call services for illiberal governance from Russia and China—whether technological services from China or more industrial, economic, and informational support from Russia.

What we try to demonstrate is that the existing literature often interprets these dynamics as cases of Russia and China exporting illiberalism or authoritarianism. Our argument, however, is that local actors are the ones deciding both the level of influence they wish to receive and the specific kinds of imports they are willing to accept from Russia and China. These choices depend on how they position themselves vis-à-vis the West and on how they manage their relationships with domestic civil society and political opposition.

So, this is fundamentally a book about the demand side of so-called democratic backsliding. It seeks to restore agency to local actors and to show that the spread of illiberal values around the world is far more a locally driven process of demand than the product of some grand design orchestrated by Russia and China. We need to restore agency to local actors and recognize that they selectively take from Russia, from China, but also from the United States, whatever they believe serves their interests and needs.

In that sense, the book offers a different reading of the international system—one that is deeply transactional in nature. Countries increasingly pursue strategies of multi-alignment, taking a little from Russia, a little from China, a little from the West, and a little from the United States, while creating their own room for maneuver by playing the great powers against one another.

Russia Was a Model of Successful Illiberalism

The head of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Kirill and Russian President Vladimir Putin as they attended a ceremony celebrating the 1025 anniversary of the Baptism of Kievan Rus in Kiev, Ukraine on July, 27, 2013. Photo: Shutterstock.

Across Europe and beyond, segments of the radical right have long expressed admiration for Putin’s Russia. What explains this attraction, and how has Russia’s invasion of Ukraine altered—or failed to alter—these ideological affinities?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Russia was indeed, for a long time, a highly successful model for many European far-right movements, although there were always important nuances. For far-right actors in countries bordering Russia—such as Finland, Romania, Poland, and others with a long experience of Russian domination—the attitude was never particularly Russophile but rather Russophobic.

For much of the Western European far right, however, Russia was seen as a model of a successful illiberal political project: a strong state, sovereignty, the defense of traditional gender and family norms, openly Christian values, anti-globalism, and nationalism. It was a package that resonated with many Western far-right actors and was regarded as genuinely inspiring.

As I mentioned, Orbán’s Hungary also emerged as an alternative model that many found attractive. Already after 2014, it became apparent that, for many Western and American far-right actors, Hungary represented a more appealing model than Russia because it was perceived as less controversial.

After 2022, however, many of these far-right actors were forced to renegotiate how they framed their relationship with Russia. In most cases, they toned down their association with Russia, adopted a more nuanced position, and reframed their interpretation of the conflict. This did not necessarily mean becoming openly pro-Ukrainian. Rather, it meant arguing that too much money should not be spent on Ukraine’s defense or that Russia had its own reasons for launching the invasion.

Each country, depending on its cultural context and the political room for maneuver available to its far-right leaders, adjusted its narrative accordingly. An interesting case is Giorgia Meloni in Italy. She represents a good example of an illiberal leader who has consistently been pro-Western, pro-NATO, and anti-Russian. So, there was always diversity within the broader illiberal camp.

Since 2022, we have indeed witnessed a growing line of division. Some radical far-right groups have become openly pro-Ukrainian, with some individuals even going to fight on the Ukrainian side. Others have continued to maintain a pro-Russian position. The key dividing factor lies in how these actors interpret the broader geopolitical and civilizational divide. Either they adopt a pro-Western orientation, or they embrace a more multipolar worldview. That distinction largely explains whether they take a pro-Ukrainian or a pro-Russian stance.

Shared Rhetoric Masks Deep Geopolitical Differences

Your work on France, Italy, Hungary, and Serbia reveals important geopolitical divisions within the far right. Has the war in Ukraine fragmented the transnational far-right movement, or has it merely reshaped existing cleavages between nationalist actors?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Indeed, the geopolitical dimension has always generated tensions among different far-right groups, precisely because some have been perceived as too openly pro-Russian, while others have been viewed as too favorable to NATO. These tensions have always been present. If we look, for example, at the way far-right groups have operated in the European Parliament, the geopolitical line of division has consistently been an important factor.

I think this dynamic has been partly reshaped since Trump’s re-election in January 2025, because the relationship with the United States suddenly became part of the equation, not just the relationship with Russia. One of the key questions now concerns attitudes toward Trump: to what extent do Western and Central European far-right actors want to support the United States, and to what extent do they feel the need to distance themselves from it?

We saw this clearly when Trump made very aggressive claims regarding Greenland. There were significant differences among European illiberal leaders in how they interpreted their relationship with Trump. So, the geopolitical line of division is now no longer only about Russia; it also concerns the United States. 

At the same time, what we see emerging is that many of these actors have adopted a narrative that largely originated in the United States: the idea of Western civilization. Whatever their differences, there is a shared belief that Western civilization must be defended. Of course, this notion of Western civilization can have different boundaries and imply different relationships with Russia. But these actors are trying to construct a kind of empty signifier that is flexible enough to provide them with a common geopolitical narrative. In reality, however, they continue to hold quite diverse geopolitical perspectives.

Culture Matters as Much as Politics

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

You have shown that illiberal ideas circulate not only through parties and governments but also through novels, media personalities, intellectuals, and cultural networks. Are liberal democracies underestimating the cultural dimension of illiberal diffusion?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: Yes, that is something I feel very strongly about. We have looked at illiberalism too much through the lenses of institutions, elections, and disinformation, and in doing so, we have often overlooked the fact that illiberal values circulate through culture. By culture, I mean fiction, music, films, festivals, and the broader wave of patriotism and rediscovery of national or regional histories. Historical reenactments, lifestyles, food habits, clothing, body language, wellness, and health issues all play a role. Especially after COVID, everything related to health and the body became particularly important.

I think many of these elements contribute to shaping both liberal and illiberal cultures. If you look at the vast world of podcasters and influencers, many illiberal voices are not talking about politics in the narrow sense of institutions and parties. They are talking about ways of life. For me, this is the new frontier of research that we need to explore: what I would call ‘banal illiberalism’.

In much the same way that Michael Billig’s concept of banal nationalism captured the everyday, often aestheticized expressions of national identity, we need a concept that captures the everyday expression of a worldview infused with illiberal values. This is important because once illiberal values become embedded in lived experience, they cannot be countered through factchecking alone. The issue is no longer simply one of disinformation or misinformation. It is much more complex than that. It concerns the way people interpret the world and responding to that requires an entirely different set of tools from those we have spent the past decade developing to combat disinformation.

Fact-Checking Misses the Deeper Problem

To what extent have digital platforms enabled the construction of alternative epistemic communities in which illiberal narratives can flourish independently of traditional gatekeepers, experts, and mainstream media?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: That’s a good example of what I was saying. These digital platforms are indeed creating communities with their own authorities, their own validation procedures, and their own sense of what counts as credible evidence. That is why it becomes increasingly difficult to find ways of talking to one another. We find ourselves in a kind of post-trust system in which we have lost a common language for determining what is true and what is not, as well as a shared set of tools for deciding what constitutes reality.

Once you lose this common epistemic ground, it becomes very difficult to rebuild anything collectively. That is why I think factchecking and platform regulation can be useful, but they miss the deeper dynamic. And that deeper dynamic is probably the need to find ways of rebuilding communities that live together. I say that fully aware that it is much easier said than done. But I do think we are now functioning within increasingly closed epistemic worlds, and that reality needs to be taken very seriously.

Moreover, this tendency is likely to intensify as artificial intelligence further separates different perspectives on the world. Each of us may end up living in a more closed informational environment because AI will increasingly read and interpret the world for us in highly individualized ways. So, this is one of the major challenges we face because it directly affects the question of how democracy can survive. If each of us experiences a different reality, then the fundamental question becomes: what do we still share?

Liberalism Must Recover a Moral Language

If illiberalism reflects genuine social grievances and not merely manipulation or disinformation, can liberal democracies successfully counter it through institutional reforms alone, or must they also offer a new moral and cultural narrative capable of inspiring citizens?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: I belong to the group of people who believe that institutional answers alone will not be enough. Everything associated with institutional neutrality—the proceduralism of liberalism—has, to a large extent, lost credibility. It has become associated with technocracy, neoliberalism, depoliticization, and forms of elite control. So, I think that if liberalism is to succeed, it will need to be willing to make substantive normative claims about solidarity, social justice, dignity, and community, rather than relying solely on procedural principles.

Of course, that would be a challenging move and would inevitably create tensions within liberalism itself. But I do not think there is another way for liberalism to answer the fundamental questions people are asking: Why do we want to live together, and what do we want to share together? 

I also think liberalism will need to be willing to engage with the other side and recognize that it is no longer the only political offer on the table. Alternative political projects exist, and liberalism needs to accept being in dialogue with them, even if it tends to regard them as illegitimate.

At the same time, liberalism needs to have a very deep internal conversation about its relationship with neoliberalism. Many of the socio-economic tensions it faces today are rooted in the current political economy.

So, if liberalism is to be rescued, it will have to find a way to loosen or sever its relationship with neoliberalism, one way or another. It is a very difficult discussion, but I believe it is one that liberalism must be willing to confront if it hopes to survive.

The Firewall Strategy May Be Backfiring

Many governments have responded to illiberal challenges through regulation, fact-checking initiatives, and restrictions on foreign influence. Are these defensive measures sufficient, or do they risk reinforcing the very anti-elite narratives that fuel illiberal mobilization?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: That is a difficult question. These measures may sometimes be necessary, but they tend to backfire in the majority of cases. In a sense, they arrive too late. I am thinking, for example, of the election in Romania or the strategy of the firewall against certain European far-right parties—the idea that everyone should unite and vote against them in order to prevent them from gaining access to power. These parties have now become so strong that we may have passed the point at which such firewall strategies could still be effective. I wonder whether they are now primarily backfiring by creating the impression that democracy is refusing to give these actors a voice and refusing to accommodate them.

Of course, if you are a voter of a far right or illiberal party, you may feel that you are being denied the opportunity to test that political offer. As a result, we are caught in a kind of vicious circle that will be very difficult to break. We can see this in the debates surrounding the possibility of banning the AfD in Germany as an extremist party, or in the discussions in France about whether Marine Le Pen should be prevented from running for office. 

These examples illustrate the tensions that are emerging. The tension between democratic legitimacy and a justice system that operates according to its own form of legitimacy is becoming increasingly difficult to manage. Liberalism has traditionally been about managing such tensions. But once liberalism loses credibility, the relationship between democracy and justice itself becomes the problem.

The Illiberal Challenge Is Also an Opportunity

And lastly, Professor Laruelle, looking ahead, do you believe we are witnessing a temporary period of turbulence within liberal democracy, or the emergence of a genuinely post-liberal era in which illiberalism becomes a durable and legitimate alternative model of political order?

Professor Marlene Laruelle: I’m both optimistic and pessimistic. I think the illiberal offer is here to stay for a long time, and we should accept that reality. In a sense, we should view it as an opportunity to reinvent democracy. I am among those who believe that liberalism, as we have experienced it, has reached its limits and has, in many ways, been living off a kind of inherited rent that had become largely empty. What we are witnessing today is an opportunity to renew democracy in a deeper and more meaningful sense.

We should therefore see this moment as a chance to reopen fundamental debates: What kind of social contract do we want? What kind of vision do we have for the future? What kind of political imagination do we want to build together? On that level, I am optimistic. I think it depends on us to seize this opportunity and to put the big questions back on the table.

At the same time, I am pessimistic because I do not think this process will be easy. The challenges are enormous. We are facing multiple crises simultaneously, and the difficulties before us are profound. We are likely to experience several years, perhaps even decades, of turbulent and difficult times. Yet this remains a unique opportunity. In a sense, we have no alternative but to take up the challenge and confront it. So, despite everything, I want to remain optimistic.

Associate Professor Stefano Bottoni of the University of Florence.

Assoc. Prof. Bottoni: Today’s Democratic Transition in Hungary Is More Difficult and Challenging Than 1989–1990

In this ECPS interview, Associate Professor Stefano Bottoni offers a compelling assessment of Hungary’s post-Orbán transition and the formidable challenges of democratic reconstruction after sixteen years of institutional capture and democratic backsliding. Rejecting simplistic notions of democratic restoration, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni argues that Hungary is not merely returning to a previous democratic order but attempting to “invent a new democracy for the twenty-first century.” Reflecting on European reintegration, anti-corruption efforts, institutional reform, civic education, and political culture, he contends that democracy cannot be rebuilt through legal changes alone. Instead, lasting democratic consolidation requires the cultivation of democratic citizens, the restoration of public accountability, and the creation of a new civic patriotism that reconciles national identity with European belonging.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

The electoral defeat of Viktor Orbán and Fidesz in Hungary’s April 12, 2026 election has triggered one of the most consequential political transitions in contemporary Europe. After sixteen years of increasingly centralized rule, democratic backsliding, institutional capture, and persistent conflict with the European Union, the rise of Prime Minister Péter Magyar has generated renewed debate about democratic restoration, post-populist governance, and the prospects for rebuilding liberal-democratic institutions. Yet, as scholars of democratization have long emphasized, the removal of an incumbent regime marks only the beginning of a transition rather than its successful completion.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Associate Professor Stefano Bottoni of the University of Florence—one of the foremost historians of contemporary Hungary and author of the forthcoming book The Orbán Enigma—offers a deeply historical assessment of Hungary’s uncertain democratic future. Drawing on his extensive scholarship on authoritarianism, nationalism, post-communist transformation, and democratic backsliding in Central and Eastern Europe, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni argues that the challenges confronting Hungary today may, in important respects, be even greater than those faced during the democratic transition of 1989–1990.

Rejecting simplistic narratives of democratic restoration, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni cautions that the current moment cannot be understood merely as a return to a pre-Orbán political order. “This is not simply about restoring something. Rather, it is about inventing a new democracy for the twenty-first century,” he argues. For Assoc. Prof. Bottoni, Hungary’s predicament is rooted not only in the institutional legacy of Orbánism but also in the country’s longer historical experience, which offers “only brief and largely unsuccessful democratic experiments, followed by a succession of autocratic, authoritarian, or fully totalitarian regimes.”

Throughout the interview, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni emphasizes that democratic reconstruction will require far more than personnel changes or legal reforms. While supporting the new government’s efforts to rejoin the European Public Prosecutor’s Office (EPPO), recover frozen EU funds, and confront systemic corruption, he stresses that institutional renewal must be accompanied by a profound transformation of political culture. The task is particularly difficult because, as he bluntly observes, “you cannot build democracy with a state apparatus forged by an autocratic system.”

One of the interview’s central themes is the distinction between formal institutional change and deeper democratic consolidation. Assoc. Prof. Bottoni warns against the illusion that democracy can be rebuilt quickly. “Building democratic consciousness takes 15, 20, or even 30 years,” he notes, arguing that genuine democratization requires sustained efforts across education, civil society, media, and local government. In his view, the most important test of democratic success will not be found in constitutional amendments or anti-corruption prosecutions alone, but in whether Hungary can cultivate future generations of democratic citizens rather than passive subjects.

At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni offers a nuanced interpretation of the emerging political landscape. He suggests that Hungary may be witnessing the formation of a new political cleavage across Europe, one that increasingly pits pro-European and pro-integration forces against sovereigntist and anti-European movements. Within this evolving framework, he sees the possibility of a “new civic patriotism” that reconciles national identity with European belonging.

Perhaps most strikingly, Assoc. Prof. Bottoni contends that Hungary’s current transition is “far more difficult and controversial” than that of 1989–1990 because it must confront not only political legacies but also the entrenched networks of wealth, patronage, and oligarchic power created during the Orbán era. For this reason, he concludes that “the transition taking place today is even more difficult and more challenging” than Hungary’s post-communist democratic breakthrough.

This interview offers a timely and thought-provoking exploration of democratic resilience, institutional reconstruction, political accountability, and the long-term challenges of overcoming authoritarian legacies in twenty-first-century Europe. It also raises a broader question with implications far beyond Hungary: how can democracies rebuild themselves after years of democratic erosion without reproducing the very illiberal practices they seek to overcome?

Here is the revised version of our interview with Associate Professor Stefano Bottoni, lightly edited for clarity, readability, and publication.

This Is Not About Restoring Democracy—It Is About Inventing a New One

Supporters of the TISZA Party gather on Andrássy Avenue in Budapest during a national march led by Péter Magyar on Hungary’s March 15 national holiday, March 15, 2026. Photo: Istvan Balogh / Dreamstime.

Professor Bottoni, welcome! Much commentary has framed Hungary’s 2026 election as the end of an era. Yet democratic transitions are often easier to proclaim than to consolidate. How should we conceptualize the current moment: as regime change, democratic restoration, elite circulation, or merely the beginning of a prolonged and uncertain post-Orbán transition?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: As we are speaking now, at the beginning of June, almost two months have passed since the elections held on April 12, 2026. We can clearly see that the crushing electoral defeat of Viktor Orbán and his party, Fidesz, was followed by the rapid collapse of the power structure as well, which was unexpected. Political analysts in Hungary are now saying that a genuine transfer of power is taking place. It is a regime change that can, of course, be compared to the regime change of 1989–1990. But it is also very different from that. It unfolds in a different geopolitical context. We are no longer in the Cold War; we are in a very different position. It is also different because János Kádár’s Hungary in the late 1980s was an opening regime, whereas Viktor Orbán’s regime was a closing one, especially in its final years.

Democratic restoration is one of the terms you mentioned. It is very catchy and very tempting, but it probably does not capture the complexity of the task. This is not simply about restoring something. Rather, it is about inventing a new democracy for the twenty-first century in a country like Hungary, where, from a historical perspective, democracy does not really offer many functional models to follow.

After the First World War, after the Second World War, and after the end of the Cold War, Hungary experienced only brief and largely unsuccessful democratic experiments, followed by a succession of autocratic, authoritarian, or fully totalitarian regimes. So, we are not merely speaking about the consolidation or restoration of democracy. We are speaking about a demanding, but also intellectually stimulating, transition toward something new. Hungarians genuinely need something new. Of course, when searching for something new, you can turn to existing models, draw on your own history, and learn from foreign experiences. But first and foremost, you must understand what went wrong on previous occasions and then adapt democratic models to the realities of the country.

Without European Support, Serious Accountability Would Be Difficult to Achieve

Hungary - EU
Flags of Hungary and the European Union displayed together in Budapest. Hungary has been an EU member since 2004. Photo: Jerome Cid / Dreamstime

The new government has moved rapidly to restore relations with Brussels, reopen discussions on frozen EU funds, and announce Hungary’s intention to join the European Public Prosecutor’s Office. To what extent are these measures primarily symbolic gestures of European reintegration, and to what extent do they represent deeper institutional transformations?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: They are not merely symbolic, primarily because access to European funds and Hungary’s accession to the European Public Prosecutor’s Office are necessary political steps for consolidating Péter Magyar’s power.

Péter Magyar first needs the frozen EU funds in order to revitalize the declining Hungarian economy. In that sense, these resources are essential to the idea of a fresh start from an economic perspective. At the same time, joining the European legal framework for combating corruption provides the new government and the emerging power structure with far greater opportunities to address the corruption associated with Orbán’s system.

We should not forget that the Hungarian legal system remains largely controlled by individuals appointed by Viktor Orbán. As a result, it will be difficult to initiate a serious prosecution of crimes in Hungary until the country joins the European Public Prosecutor’s Office. From this perspective, European support is extremely important for the new Hungarian political order.

So, this is not simply a symbolic reunion with Europe. It is also a very well-conceived and, politically speaking, rewarding set of measures that Magyar must pursue to consolidate his own power.

You Cannot Build Democracy with a State Apparatus Forged by Autocracy

One of the central challenges facing the Magyar government is rebuilding institutions that many observers argue were systematically politicized over the last decade and a half. In comparative perspective, what are the greatest difficulties democratic governments face when attempting to depoliticize state institutions after prolonged periods of dominant-party rule?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: There are multiple challenges facing the new power structure. Let us begin with the most immediate one: the president of the republic. Tamás Sulyok, the current president, is a lawyer who previously served as president of the Hungarian Constitutional Court. He was a Fidesz appointee and, during the last two years, was essentially Orbán’s puppet. He did absolutely nothing to prevent the democratic crisis from unfolding. He remained silent on all the major political, moral, and legal issues surrounding Orbán’s power.

Magyar immediately called on him to resign before a formal procedure for his dismissal could be initiated by the new government. Of course, this creates the possibility of a serious institutional conflict. Forcing a president who was democratically elected by the Hungarian parliament to resign—or removing or impeaching him, because that is essentially what this amounts to—is not part of standard democratic practice, at least in Western Europe. For example, such a scenario would be virtually inconceivable in Germany. It is very difficult to explain to German lawyers how this could occur in a normal democratic setting. Unfortunately, Hungary today is not in a normal democratic condition.

The challenge, therefore, is to restore a more or less normal democratic order in the medium and long term by removing many individuals who were appointed by the previous regime solely on the basis of political allegiance. From an institutional perspective, this is not an elegant process. It represents a high degree of discontinuity and can create discomfort, because many people may perceive it as a purge. But it is what it is. Unfortunately, Magyar has very few alternatives, because you cannot build democracy with a state apparatus forged by an autocratic system. It is simply not possible. This is the very narrow path that Magyar must navigate, and it appears that he wants to move through it as quickly as possible.

At the moment, public support for this process is very strong. According to opinion polls, more than two-thirds of voters seem to support a rapid transition. That is what he wants to achieve. Afterwards, the real task begins: restoring democracy with new people. Once new people are in place, a new democratic framework must be built around them. At that point, it will no longer be possible to blame those appointed by Orbán, because they will have been removed—or will be removed—from key positions in the judiciary, the financial courts, the legal system, and the economic sphere.

Prosecutions will also begin against oligarchs and against those who made billions and billions of euros disappear. This is the huge difference between 1989 and 2026 in Hungary. In 1989, the struggle was about politics and ideology. It was about prosecuting crimes committed by the communist authorities—for example, after the 1956 Revolution. It was about the past.

In Hungary today, it is about money. It is not really about ideology. We are not prosecuting sovereignism or populism, because they cannot be prosecuted as such. They are debatable political positions. You cannot prosecute someone simply because he is a sovereignist or a populist, however we may define those terms.

But you can certainly prosecute an oligarch for the misappropriation of billions of euros. And if those oligarchs are closely connected to political power—and personally connected to former Prime Minister Viktor Orbán—then we encounter the clear link between politics and business that was one of the defining features of the Orbán regime throughout its entire period in power since 2010.

For that reason, this transition will be far more difficult and controversial. It must address the challenge of transforming wealth accumulated through corruption back into public resources. This is a different task from that of 1989–1990, but it is no less significant. In some respects, I would argue that the transition taking place today is even more difficult and more challenging.

Building Democratic Consciousness Takes Decades, Not Election Cycles

The Hungarian case raises a broader theoretical question about democratic resilience. Can institutions that have undergone extensive partisan capture genuinely regain autonomy, or do they inevitably retain traces of the political order that created them?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: This is a huge issue, and I am not in a position to answer it now. In fact, I do not think anyone is in a position to answer it at this stage, because we do not yet have an empirical basis for doing so. That empirical basis will emerge in the coming months, following the top-level personnel reshuffle. Once that process has taken place, we will see what new people can do with these old institutions. Can they transform the institutional logic according to which these institutions operate, or can they not? This is a huge issue and a major question mark. At the moment, we do not have answers; we only have hopes.

My personal intuition is that a great deal of damage has been done. Even if one accepts the idea—which is not pessimistic but simply realistic—that such a regime change implies, first and foremost, educating people in democracy, that process takes 15, 20, or even 30 years. We should therefore expect such a transition, even if it is successfully implemented, to last several decades. It requires bringing together the media system, the educational system, public engagement, local administrations, civil society, and so on within a new way of thinking. Even if all these societal subsystems are interconnected through a new democratic mindset, it still takes several decades to achieve substantial results—not merely new Potemkin villages or superficial examples of democracy. After 1990, Hungary built a highly successful formal democracy with very little democratic substance.

The divergence between these two realities became dramatically evident after the 2008 financial crisis, when it became clear that the majority of the Hungarian population no longer supported liberal democracy as it had been presented to them after 1990. This is how Viktor Orbán became possible. If we do not want another Viktor Orbán—whether from the right, the far right, or even the left—to emerge and capture the state once again, and if we want to build a stable and sustainable democratic political culture, which would be something new in Hungary, then we must recognize that Hungary has never had such a stable and sustainable democratic political culture over the past hundred years or more.

If we want to build this, we have to take our time. We also need to be patient with ourselves, and we must ask for patience from our partners as well. Of course, it is possible to shorten the path toward becoming a more consolidated democracy. It is possible to perform well. But you cannot skip the necessary steps. You cannot avoid the intermediate phases involved in building a new democratic consciousness. You simply cannot.

Magyar Must Fight Corruption Without Creating Chaos

Péter Magyar.
Péter Magyar speaks at a public demonstration near the Hungarian Parliament building in Budapest on April 6, 2024. Photo: Istvan Balogh / Dreamstime.

Prime Minister Magyar has promised anti-corruption reforms while simultaneously facing intense pressure to unlock billions of euros in frozen EU funds. How sustainable is this strategy politically if economic recovery becomes dependent upon satisfying external European conditions?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: He has to do both things at the same time. He has no choice. The Hungarian government and the new ruling elite can, rather amusingly, be described as a democratic one-party system. If we look at the polls, we can see that TISZA is now virtually above 70 percent, which is stunning. Fidesz is collapsing. They probably now have between 10 and 20 percent of genuine popular support, and they are still shrinking. Meanwhile, the far-right Mi Hazánk, or Our Homeland, which is represented in parliament and received 6 percent in the elections, seems unable to benefit from the collapse of Fidesz and remains stuck at around 5–6 percent.

So, we can speak of a democratic one-party system because we have a democratic party that is, paradoxically, in an almost unchallenged and unchallengeable position. They are in the best position to implement radical reforms because they cannot be challenged. But, of course, their responsibility is enormous, because they carry the full weight of difficult decisions on their own shoulders.

At the moment, there are no meaningful checks and balances through political competition. Fidesz cannot serve as a check and balance. When someone from Fidesz says, “You are doing this wrong,” the obvious response in parliamentary debates these days is, “I’m sorry, but after what you did to this country for sixteen years, be quiet.” That kind of response effectively closes every space for genuine political conversation.

But I understand your point. They have to do two very different and very difficult things simultaneously. First, they have to secure this money. I would say, whatever it takes, because Hungary’s financial and economic position is now so precarious that these 10-15 billion euros of fresh European funding are genuinely needed to fuel the economy. At the same time, they must send strong and unequivocal messages regarding corruption. Here I draw on my Italian background. I was born and raised in Italy. In 1993, the entire Italian political system collapsed under the weight of the anti-corruption campaign known as Mani Pulite—Clean Hands. It was a dramatic reshuffle. Eight thousand people were jailed, arrested, or placed in temporary custody. Entire parties that had dominated Italian political life for forty years—the Christian Democrats, the Socialist Party, the Liberal Party, and the Social Democratic Party—collapsed in little more than a year, between 1992 and 1993. And what did Italy get from all of this? We got Silvio Berlusconi and his long domination of Italian politics beginning in 1994.

Perhaps because I am a historian, and historians tend to be pessimistic, but also because I experienced this firsthand, I am acutely aware of how enthusiasm for an anti-corruption campaign can cause a democracy to derail in another direction, namely through chaos. Populism is often fueled by perceptions of chaos, by the feeling that things have become uncontrollable and that people must “take back control.” Berlusconi and his Forza Italia party successfully convinced many Italians that the chaos generated by the anti-corruption campaign was harmful, detrimental to the economy, and had to be stopped.

So Péter Magyar now has to carry out one of the most significant anti-corruption campaigns Europe has ever seen. I am not exaggerating. Experts on Hungary’s political economy consistently argue that the Orbán regime’s neopatrimonialism and appropriation of state resources are astonishing by European standards. These oligarchs cannot simply be allowed to walk away. 

It is difficult to imagine that Viktor Orbán could still have a future in international politics. There are now rumors that he may be trying, with American support, to secure a senior position within the United Nations. That simply cannot happen. If it does, it would send a profoundly damaging message for democratic governance worldwide. It would suggest that you can cheat, deprive a country of its own resources, enrich yourself, and then simply leave office without any legal or political consequences. That cannot happen.

So, Magyar has to purge the former state apparatus—democratically, but still purge it. That means sending many people to jail, or at least confronting them with the prospect of jail. At the same time, he must prevent chaos from prevailing. The Hungarian public became accustomed to the stability of the system provided by Orbán. They would not tolerate a chaotic transition. You have to ensure at least the appearance of an orderly transition. This is what Magyar must deliver: democratic restoration of rights, an anti-corruption campaign, the prosecution of those who committed economic or ideological crimes, and action against those who organized what was perhaps the most remarkable Putin-era propaganda system in Europe.

It also means confronting those who helped support and finance populist and far-right parties across Europe. We now know that institutions such as Mathias Corvinus Collegium and the Danube Institute in Budapest were central nodes in a transnational network connecting far-right actors across the Atlantic. This cannot be left unchallenged. At the same time, it must not lead to a chaotic transition, because that would be unbearable for the Hungarian public. It is an extremely difficult task. But it is something that can be done now, thanks to the enormous popular support that Magyar has gathered before and after the elections. He has to take advantage of this unique momentum.

Hungary Needs Publicly Funded and Politically Free Research

Several early initiatives—including joining the EPPO, strengthening the Integrity Authority, and reforming university foundations—appear designed to address longstanding rule-of-law concerns. Do these reforms represent technocratic adjustments, or do they amount to a fundamental redefinition of the relationship between state power, public accountability, and democratic governance?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: I am not currently part of the Hungarian higher education system, so I would not pretend to know these issues in their full depth. But what we can see is an unprecedented challenge. The government has to take back 22 formerly public universities across the country—not only in Budapest but also in the provinces—and transform them once again into public institutions.

What is the problem? The problem is that, as in many other European and non-European countries, Hungarian public higher education was severely underfunded. Salaries were miserable. Scholarships were limited. After these universities were transferred under the umbrella of semi-private, semi-public foundations, salaries increased. As a result, many people within Hungarian higher education now fear that returning under the umbrella of a poorly financed state could worsen the financial position of university professors and the Hungarian research system as a whole.

Of course, one can argue that European grants may once again become available to the Hungarian research system, and that is true. But we also know that this is a highly competitive environment. It is increasingly difficult to obtain EU research funding through the ERC, Horizon, or other programs. This is not helicopter money that automatically arrives to keep the system running.

In this respect, the coming months will allow us to test Péter Magyar’s commitment to a new set of priorities for the Hungarian government. I would say: less money for oligarchs, less money for stadiums and non-essential infrastructure, and much more money for public health and public education—from preschool all the way through universities and PhD programs. This commitment will be tested because the university system can only be successfully transformed back into a public system if substantial resources are invested in it. You cannot do it for free.

This challenge is not unique to Hungary; it exists in many European countries. Even if we reject the idea of partially privatizing the university system because we believe it undermines institutional independence and the capacity for critical thinking, we are still confronted with low salaries and a system that does not adequately reward performance. How do we make the system more effective and more attractive to young researchers without sacrificing democracy within it? This is yet another one of the great challenges.

I think the first steps taken by Magyar and by the Minister of Education and Technology, Zoltán Tanács, are moving in the right direction. They seem genuinely committed to this agenda, and I hope they continue along this path because Hungary has a great tradition in higher education and public research. The Hungarian Academy of Sciences, for example, is now taking back control over research institutes that had previously been handed over to a questionably governed, half-public, half-private body. So, there is a major reshuffle taking place within the Hungarian research system.

Personally, as a former employee of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, this is the part of the system I know somewhat better. There is a huge need for publicly funded and politically independent public research. The problem is funding. You cannot pay a university professor—as is currently the case in parts of the public sector—€1,000 per month. It is simply not possible. Salaries need to be adjusted to the current cost of living in Hungary, which is at least twice that amount.

The Greatest Mistake Hungarians Made Was Giving Politicians a Blank Check

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

Democratic reconstruction often generates a paradox: governments must dismantle illiberal structures while avoiding the appearance of exercising illiberal power themselves. How can the Magyar government pursue institutional reform without reproducing the majoritarian logic it seeks to replace?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: As I tried to explain earlier, if we think seriously about this in the long run, and if we do not want to become democratic populists who pretend to build democracy on promises that cannot be delivered, then we have to accept the fact that it takes time. And time means not months, not even a couple of years, not even a single government cycle, but much more time—generations.

So, what can Magyar start now, and what does he have to start now? I hope he will begin by laying the foundations for a new democratic system. That means a new democratic framework for the education system, for example. New programs and curricular frameworks for the teaching of Hungarian language, literature, and history—the so-called ideological subjects. Not mathematics, of course, which remains more or less the same under every system, but social studies and civic education.

What does it mean to be a citizen in Hungary? What are the rights, commitments, and obligations of every citizen? What does it mean to live in a democracy? Democracy is not about the ombudsman. Of course, the ombudsman is a useful institution to have, but if people do not know how to turn to the ombudsman, what the institution is for, what fundamental rights are, or how they can be defended, then the whole thing becomes pointless. So, a huge effort has to be invested in building the mental preconditions that allow people to understand the long-term advantages of democracy over authoritarian rule.

Because we should not forget one thing. And this also helps answer your question about how democracy can be rebuilt without falling back into old authoritarian models. All the democratic and non-democratic systems that succeeded one another in Hungary over the last century—the Horthy regime in the 1920s, 1930s, and early 1940s, or the Kádár regime from the late 1950s until 1989—were not at all unpopular. They were highly successful in consolidating power, preserving power, and gathering remarkable public support.

Orbán himself always claimed democratic legitimacy. Of course, we can argue that the nearly 50 percent he received in almost every election up until April 12 was not entirely genuine because it was unfairly boosted by the misuse of state resources and state propaganda. But we cannot deny the fact that a substantial part of the Hungarian population genuinely believed in Viktor Orbán’s capacity to govern the country. The important point is that these people have not disappeared. They are still living among us.

It would be a mistake to forget that a substantial part of the country is still not mentally prepared to live in a democracy. People have to be patiently educated for it. We should not take for granted what is not, at least in my view, self-evident—that democracy can simply be restored by changing a few legal provisions or replacing one person with another at the head of an institution. Democracy is not about procedures. It is about how we imagine ourselves within society. What role do we imagine for the citizen? Is the citizen a subject of the state, or is he or she an equal partner in the social discourse?

What can we expect from Magyar? Of course, we know his past. He was a loyal associate of Viktor Orbán until 2022 or 2023. That much we know. Naturally, there are reasons to be skeptical. One can reasonably ask: how can someone who was once a loyal associate of Viktor Orbán suddenly discover the virtues of democracy? I think that is a legitimate concern. I do not want to play the role of the overly optimistic observer who dismisses such concerns as baseless. I cannot claim that. What I can claim is hope. Hope that a person like Péter Magyar, who went through what I would call a conversion to democracy—a painful one at that—and who spent two years in a full electoral campaign while facing an entire propaganda apparatus directed against him, has genuinely learned the difference between a functioning democracy and a fake one.

I also hope that the political community he has built, both from the top through his own charisma and from below through the TISZA Islands and the tens of thousands of people who, many for the first time in their lives, engaged in politics—joining a movement, collecting signatures, talking to their neighbors, trying to persuade others, becoming politically active—will not forget one of the most important democratic lessons.

One of the greatest democratic tasks in any country is to be able to control your politicians. You do not give them a blank check to use for whatever purpose they choose. That was the greatest mistake the Hungarian public made after 2010 with Viktor Orbán: they granted him unlimited credit. You cannot grant unlimited credit to anyone, even if you believe in them, even if you admire them. At least in Hungary, we have now seen that politicians can misuse such trust. They can exploit it. They can distort the public will. They can hollow out democratic institutions from within while relying on the democratic legitimacy that citizens themselves have granted them. I sincerely hope that this lesson—at least this one lesson—has now been learned in Hungary.

A New Civic Patriotism Is Emerging Alongside European Belonging

Hungary now finds itself in a unique position within Central Europe. Do you see the emergence of a new model of center-right governance that remains nationally oriented and culturally conservative while simultaneously embracing European integration and liberal-democratic institutions?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: I am not a political scientist myself. However, I do follow political science scholarship, and, as far as I can see, there is currently a major debate about the possible disappearance of the traditional right–left cleavage across much of the European Union. Instead, we seem to be witnessing the emergence of a different divide: mainstream, pro-European, and pro-integration forces on one side, and patriotic, sovereignist, pro-Russian, and anti-European forces on the other. If we take this new distinction seriously, we can see formerly center-right and center-left—or even left-wing—parties finding themselves on the same side of the political spectrum.

From this perspective, TISZA can be seen as part of this new experiment, and Hungary as a laboratory. In recent Hungarian history, we have often described Hungary as a laboratory of ideologies. Unfortunately, for most of the twentieth century, Hungary served as a laboratory for non-democratic ideologies. It would therefore be refreshing to see Hungary become a laboratory for something different.

Paradoxically, what we have today is a right-wing or center-right governing party that is, in some respects, the most progressive political project Hungary could have imagined. One really has the impression of living under a popular front, with many different parties and movements brought together—perhaps only temporarily—within a single broad political formation.

So, yes, this could be a sign that the old political divisions are no longer particularly useful, at least in this part of Europe and especially in Central and Eastern Europe. Take Romania, for example. Romania is facing a similar situation. What exactly is the Romanian Social Democratic Party today? In many respects, it appears just as populist as its opponents. Or consider Robert Fico, the Slovak prime minister and leader of a supposedly socialist party, whose positions have very little in common with what European socialists and social democrats advocate in Brussels and Strasbourg.

We are entering a new political landscape, and I think that TISZA and Péter Magyar fit quite naturally within it. It is possible that the political center of gravity is now much more right-wing—or at least much less left-wing—than it was twenty or thirty years ago. I would say that the average has shifted both to the right and toward a more nationally minded understanding of political identity.

Many foreign observers were struck on election night in Budapest by the widespread and entirely normal use of Hungarian songs, Hungarian flags, and Hungarian national symbols. But that is simply the reality. We live in a nationalized space. This is not just about Péter Magyar using national symbols. It is about ordinary Hungarians using them. And, I would argue, they do so without any toxic meaning attached to them. This is not about conquering other countries. It is not about seeking revenge for Trianon or for the territorial losses suffered after the First World War. It is simply the idea that being Hungarian is not a bad thing after all.

We like being Hungarian, just as Croats have every right to be proud of being Croatian, Serbs of being Serbian, Slovaks of being Slovak, Poles of being Polish, and so on. This is more about building what Jürgen Habermas called constitutional patriotism—a new patriotism grounded in a more civic and somewhat less ethnic understanding of the nation. This, too, is something new. Europe, as well as the European Union, is very much part of this process. It is impossible to imagine this new Hungarian patriotism without a strong sense of belonging to the European Union. The issue is no longer “we Hungarians versus the EU.” The idea is “we Hungarians within the EU.” The European Union has become inseparable from Hungary.

Today, this is true not only politically but also mentally. This is a new feature compared to twenty or thirty years ago, when such ideas still had to be explained. Now, especially among younger generations—those under thirty or forty—there is an instinctive sense of belonging to a larger European community. This no longer requires explanation. It has become part of the mental framework of these generations, regardless of their individual political opinions.

The State Must Return Where It Is Needed and Retreat Where It Is Not

Central European University building or CEU in Budapest on 27 July 2018.

Finally, if we revisit Hungary five years from now, what would convince you that the country has successfully completed a democratic transition? What concrete indicators should scholars watch most closely when evaluating whether democratic restoration has genuinely taken root?

Assoc. Prof. Stefano Bottoni: The first thing that comes to mind is the education system. History textbooks—or simply textbooks in general—are a very clear indicator of a country’s self-representation. A high school history textbook is compulsory. Students have to study it for their final examinations. It represents a compulsory body of knowledge about their own country. It is the self-representation that the state communicates to its citizens.

When I see that the Hungarian education system is striving to forge citizens rather than subjects—not young people who simply have to learn and memorize things, but individuals who are encouraged to think critically about them—that will be, for me personally, the sign that something has begun to change at a deeper level.

Only by cultivating new citizens—prospective citizens—and transforming today’s teenagers into future citizens over the next five, ten, or twenty years can Hungary seize the unique opportunity to overcome its long tradition of paternalism, nepotism, and state interference in the lives of ordinary people. So, I think this is the most important thing.

Then, of course, there is the legal system, corruption, and what I would call an education in private property and fair capitalism, which is also largely missing from the mental map of most Hungarians. For many Hungarians, the state is still seen as something that must provide a very broad range of services. There is a joke in Hungary nowadays: you have the state where you would not like it, and you do not have the state where you really need it.

For example, when you need a good hospital, you do not have good public hospitals. But you do have the state telling you how to live, how to procreate, and how to run your business. In other words, you have the state interfering in your life where it is not needed at all, while failing to be there for you as a citizen where you genuinely need its presence.

So, I think we have to reverse this balance by restoring the role of the state where it is truly necessary and removing it from areas where the private economy and civil society can perform more effectively.

Dr. Ümit Kardaş is an academician, legal expert, author, and poet.

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Turkey Has Returned to a Form of Pre-1876 Absolutism

Giving an interview to the ECPS, veteran Turkish political analyst, legal expert, author, and poet Dr. Ümit Kardaş argues that Turkey is experiencing not merely democratic backsliding but a profound constitutional rupture that has pushed the country toward what he calls a “form of pre-1876 absolutism.” Reflecting on the judicial intervention into the CHP congress, the imprisonment of opposition figures, and the growing use of courts as instruments of political control, Dr. Kardaş contends that the constitutional order has effectively ceased to function, elections and representation have lost much of their democratic substance, and the regime has evolved into a system of “civil absolutism.” He further warns that Turkey has become a “might makes right regime” sustained through arbitrariness, coercion, and a permanent state of exception. Yet he also argues that democratic renewal remains possible through a new social contract and a comprehensive process of democratic reconstruction.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), veteran Turkish legal expert, academician, author, and poet Dr. Ümit Kardaş argues that Turkey is undergoing a profound constitutional and political rupture that extends far beyond the recent judicial intervention into the Republican People’s Party (CHP). According to Dr. Kardaş, the annulment of the CHP’s 2023 congress, the imprisonment of opposition figures such as Ekrem İmamoğlu, and the growing use of judicial mechanisms against political opponents are not isolated developments but symptoms of a broader transformation in the nature of the regime itself.

Recent events have intensified concerns that Turkey is entering a new phase of authoritarian consolidation. The court decision overturning the CHP congress that elected Özgür Özel and reinstating former leader Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu has triggered a leadership crisis within the country’s main opposition party, while legal pressure on opposition municipalities and political actors continues to mount. Against this backdrop, questions are increasingly being raised about the future of electoral competition, constitutional governance, and democratic representation in Turkey.

In this wide-ranging interview, Dr. Kardaş contends that Turkey has effectively “returned to a form of pre-1876 absolutism,” arguing that although a constitution formally exists, it no longer functions as a meaningful constraint on power. He maintains that “the constitution is being violated almost on a daily basis,” that “the social contract has, in a sense, disappeared,” and that the country is moving beyond competitive authoritarianism toward what he describes as a system of “civil absolutism.”

Dr. Kardaş further argues that elections and political representation have been stripped of much of their democratic substance, while opposition parties are increasingly prevented from functioning as autonomous political actors. In his view, the regime has evolved into a “might makes right regime,” sustained through arbitrariness, coercion, and the gradual erosion of legal guarantees. He also warns that the concentration of power, the weakening of judicial independence, and the normalization of a permanent state of exception have generated a deep crisis of legitimacy and a widespread sense of political helplessness within society.

At the same time, Dr. Kardaş insists that Turkey’s problems can no longer be resolved through limited reforms or institutional patchwork. Instead, he argues that the country requires a fundamentally new democratic foundation based on a “new social contract” capable of bringing together all segments of society within a genuinely pluralist constitutional order. As he puts it, “Turkey needs a new process of reconstruction” because it is “in no position to move forward through reforms or by patching things up here and there.”

In this interview, Dr. Kardaş discusses constitutional breakdown, judicialized politics, opposition fragmentation, democratic backsliding, legitimacy, decentralization, the Kurdish question, and the prospects for democratic reconstruction in contemporary Turkey.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Dr. Ümit Kardaş, translated from Turkish and lightly edited for clarity, readability, and publication.

A Court Cannot Invalidate What the Supreme Election Council Has Finalized

Özgür Özel, leader of Turkey’s main opposition CHP and a recent target of political judicial intervention, attends the inauguration of a cultural center named after the late Manisa Metropolitan Mayor Ferdi Zeyrek. Photo: Idil Toffolo / Dreamstime.

Dr. Ümit Kardaş, welcome. Should the “absolute nullity” (mutlak butlan) ruling regarding the CHP congress be viewed merely as an internal party legal dispute, or does this decision signal a broader regime transformation in which electoral law, political representation, and constitutional legitimacy are being redefined in Turkey?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Of course, the latter. We cannot view this as merely an internal party dispute. It is true that one of the most significant deficiencies of our democracy is the absence of internal party democracy. However, what has recently occurred must certainly be regarded as a violation of the constitutional order and the Constitution itself.

This is because elections take place under the guarantee of legal certainty and under the supervision and oversight of judges. This is how the process operates. It is finalized through the decisions of the district electoral board, the provincial electoral board, and ultimately the Supreme Election Council. This is a constitutional arrangement. Former CHP presidential candidate Muharrem İnce has also pointed this out. Article 79 of the Constitution is very clear.

Election results must be legally finalized in order to ensure stability. Otherwise, everyone would object to something, and chaos would emerge. For this reason, electoral law constitutes a completely separate legal sphere. It is not possible for any other authority to review, audit, or invalidate decisions that have been finalized by the Supreme Election Council. 

If you are doing this through the ordinary judiciary, through a court that lacks jurisdiction, and obtaining such a result, then it has no meaning. Legally, this amounts to “absolute nullity” (mutlak butlan). Nothing built upon such a legal void can be lawful or valid. Such a situation can only produce chaos, instability, and unrest.

There Is a Constitution, but It Is Not Being Implemented

You stated in a post on X that Turkey has “regressed to the pre-1876 period of constitutional absence.” How do you conceptualize the current political regime, as distinct from classical authoritarianism? Is the process unfolding in Turkey better explained through Carl Schmitt’s theory of the “state of exception,” or through the contemporary literature on populist authoritarianism?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: This needs to be explained in the following way. Carl Schmitt associates the exception and the state of exception with law; he evaluates it within the framework of law. Walter Benjamin, by contrast, describes it as a zone of lawlessness outside the law. When I say that Turkey has returned to the pre-1876 period, I am referring to the absolutism of that era. At that time, there was no constitution. We adopted our first constitution, the Kanun-i Esasi, in 1876. In fact, even 1876 was a late date. Many of the provinces affiliated with us had already acquired their own national identities and adopted constitutions much earlier. In other words, with 1876, you place limits on absolutism.

When you look at the present situation, there is a constitution, but it is not being implemented in practice. In fact, the constitution is being violated almost on a daily basis. Under such circumstances, it is not possible to say that the regime rests upon a constitutional foundation.

Given the social polarization and tensions that exist today, it is equally impossible to speak of harmony or consensus. In other words, the social contract has, in a sense, disappeared. In that respect, we have returned to a form of pre-1876 absolutism. This is because those exercising executive power now dominate everything and conduct the process to a large extent in an arbitrary manner.

Of course, when examining this issue, I think one must begin with the founding of the Republic. At the core of the Republican regime lies a monist ideology based on the Turkish-Islamic synthesis. This monist ideology has been reinforced and preserved up to the present day. Whenever attempts were made to move beyond it—that is, whenever efforts were made to replace this monist regime with a more pluralist one, in which legal rights and freedoms would be more fully guaranteed and a more libertarian order established—there were repeated military interventions. These interventions caused setbacks and once again served to reinforce the regime. Later, when political governments stepped beyond these red lines, they too were threatened and pulled back within the established boundaries.

In this regard, the Justice and Development Party (AKP) government initially offered hope. It claimed that it would advance in harmony with the European Union, implement the Copenhagen criteria, and build a more democratic regime governed by the rule of law. This genuinely gave many of us hope. Indeed, it was supported up to a certain point. However, particularly after the December 17–25, 2013 corruption investigations and subsequently the July 15, 2016 coup attempt, the regime embarked on a path of re-entrenching and reproducing itself, almost with the logic of a counter-coup.

This suggests that throughout our century-long experience, the monist ideology based on the Turkish-Islamic synthesis has occasionally appeared to be in retreat, only to resume its course shortly thereafter. With the People’s Alliance (Cumhur İttifakı or AKP-MHP alliance), this process became even more firmly entrenched.

You come to power with certain promises. You promise more democracy, more law, and greater prosperity. When you arrive in office, you try to implement those promises. But events unfold in such a way that, while you believe you have captured the state, the state captures you instead, reshapes you in its own image, and draws you within its own boundaries.

This has perhaps become an unbearable burden. As the regime has tried to secure its own legitimacy, almost nothing has remained upon which that legitimacy can be based. As a result, hardening has steadily intensified; repression and coercion have been applied with increasing intensity. Turkey has experienced this throughout roughly the last hundred years, and it continues to experience it today.

The Opposition Failed to React When the Kurds Were Targeted

Selahattin Demirtaş.
Selahattin Demirtaş, a Kurdish political leader and prominent rival of President Erdoğan, has been imprisoned since November 4, 2016. Photo: Sedat Güleç.

Do you see the judicial intervention against the CHP as a new stage in the trustee regime imposed on the Kurdish political movement in the past, the practice of party closures, and broader mechanisms of “political liquidation through the judiciary”? How has the opposition’s long-standing failure to mount a sufficiently strong objection to these practices contributed to the current situation?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Of course, there is something else that needs to be considered here. Within the boundaries that have been drawn, it is not possible to imagine and implement a pluralist regime. Political parties, that is, opposition parties, appeared to exist. But their functions also remained within these red lines. In other words, politics became incapable of solving problems. And it still is.

Of course, the state exercised enormous violence against the Kurds, against their political demands and political organizations. It suppressed them. Perhaps even more severe things happened than what is now being done to the Republican People’s Party (CHP). Trustees were appointed. Yet we did not see the opposition react to this in a comprehensive manner. It was brushed aside with a few minor statements. In other words, the opposition also failed to fulfill its duty here. As a result, this process eventually turned toward the CHP.

What I mean is that political parties did not genuinely act as an opposition. Even today, we can see that there is no particularly strong unity. There are various statements and declarations, but these are not enough. Then a series of setbacks begins. Because the regime is so powerful that it prevents opposition parties from uniting around certain principles and is able to push them backward. This is Turkey’s problem. The opposition, too, failed to perform its function properly. It was unable to react where it should have reacted. It always remained on the line of thinking: “They are doing it to them; they are not doing anything to us.”

Political parties in Turkey are structured in the following way: they operate within a monist framework based on the Turkish-Islamic synthesis. They all become nationalist parties. Look, someone says, “I am a left-wing party,” yet a vein of nationalism emerges from within it. That is why we need to change this paradigm, this mentality. We must overcome it. We must move beyond it and transition to a pluralist regime—that is, to a participatory democracy and a system based on the rule of law. But with this mentality and with this opposition structure, there is no possibility of achieving that.

So how can it happen? A new political idea and a new political actor must emerge. This is, in fact, what the masses long for. People want justice, they want law, they want rights, they want social welfare, they want economic prosperity, they want equality, they want equality before the law, and they want freedom. These are genuinely the things that people want today. Because there is both economic deprivation and a restriction of freedoms, and there is neither law nor justice.

Now there is a need for a political actor capable of channeling this reaction and this anger. There is a need for a vanguard force. The matter has now moved beyond political parties. It has been left to the will of the people, to the people’s choice. This is also why Özgür Özel is being targeted and threatened. It is related to his desire to move slightly beyond the line that has been prescribed. The regime does not want to allow that. Within its own plan and program, it wants to carry the process forward through Abdullah Öcalan, Devlet Bahçeli, and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, while incorporating the other political parties into this framework as well.

This Intervention Is Entirely Null and Void in Legal Terms

Despite the constitutional provision that designates the Supreme Election Council (YSK) as the “final authority” in electoral law, what kind of rupture does the intervention of the ordinary judiciary in the CHP congress create in terms of the separation of powers and the rule of law? Can this situation be explained through the concepts of “judicial usurpation of authority” and “legal nullity”?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: I regard this as a case of nonexistence. In fact, I regard it as a state of nothingness. We are now living in a state of nothingness. What matters now is how we are going to fill this void and emptiness.

From this point on, I do not engage in these discussions. When I watch them, I find it difficult even to continue watching. Various comments are being made as if that court decision were valid. People debate whether this or that will happen depending on the next court ruling. I see these as meaningless discussions. Turkey is genuinely in a state of nothingness.

We will now see how we are going to emerge from this situation, and we will discuss it. We will see in which direction this process evolves. From this perspective, I certainly believe that this intervention is entirely null and void in the legal realm.

Opposition Parties Are Allowed to Oppose Only Within Prescribed Limits

Do you think that the leadership crisis unfolding along the Özgür Özel–Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu axis is part of the government’s strategy to fragment and redesign the opposition? Are opposition parties in Turkey ceasing to be “autonomous political actors” in the classical sense?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Of course I do. There is undoubtedly an intervention. This is now very clear and obvious. It can be seen that, in order to ensure Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s re-election, a kind of political “clearing operation” is being carried out. What is being done? Potential rivals and candidates are being eliminated. Ekrem İmamoğlu’s university diploma is being annulled. Perhaps something will also be done against Özgür Özel. We do not know.

In addition, the CHP, which is the most ambitious party and currently the leading party, is also being sidelined and divided. Therefore, this is genuinely an intervention. I see it as an operation aimed at ensuring the continuation of the current regime with its current actors. As I mentioned earlier, opposition parties are not autonomous entities. They are parties that are allowed to engage in opposition only to the extent permitted within the regime.

The Electoral Mechanism Has Been Reduced to a Formality

Opposition party deputies, members and the members of civil society organisations had to guard the ballots for days to prevent stealing by the people organized by Erdogan regime in Turkey. The photo was shared by opposition deputy Mahmut Tanal’s Twitter account @MTanal during the Turkish local elections on March 31, 2019.

Considering together the arrest of Ekrem İmamoğlu, the operations against CHP municipalities, the appointment of trustees to DEM Party municipalities, and now the intervention in the CHP congress, is it still possible to say that elections in Turkey retain their character as a genuine mechanism for changing political power?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: No, it is not. Nor will it be possible from this point onward. I am saying that elections and representation no longer exist in any meaningful sense.

Can we still trust the elections that will be held? Can we trust that there will be no intervention in those elections and their results? For this reason, representation itself has been crippled.

In other words, this is a period of nothingness in which elections and representation no longer exist. There is nothing left. There is no constitution either. There is no possibility of expecting anything from this situation.

That is why I think this way. From now on, the mechanism of elections and representation will no longer perform any real function. It will remain merely as a formal mechanism envisaged for the continuation of the regime.

Indeed, while criticizing the opposition, it is necessary to point this out: the results of the 2017 referendum. As you know, two million unstamped ballots were deemed valid. At that point, the country should have been shaken to its core. The main opposition, and the leader of the main opposition, should have pursued this matter relentlessly. Instead, today we are realizing how severely this process was compromised and how little importance was attached to it.

The Regime Has Exhausted Its Capacity to Produce Legitimacy

In your writings, you frequently use the concepts of a “crisis of legitimacy” and the “collapse of the foundational consensus.” In your view, is the problem Turkey faces today merely the instrumentalization of law, or has the state also exhausted its capacity to produce legitimacy?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Of course, its capacity to produce legitimacy has also been exhausted. The state can no longer generate internal legitimacy. Because you are obliged to fulfill the minimum requirements of democracy. Elections are held, representation is established, and as a result of elections a government comes to power and carries out its policies. This provides you with legal legitimacy. But real legitimacy is related to your practices and policies.

If you violate the constitution, abolish the separation of powers, destroy the rule of law, eliminate the right to a fair trial, and restrict rights and freedoms, you lose your legitimacy. That is what legitimacy is. You lose it afterward. In other words, winning an election does not always mean that you possess legitimacy.

Now, in Turkey, the government is trying to derive its legitimacy not from within, but from outside. From whom? It is trying to obtain it from Trump in the United States. Steve Bannon already said this: “We are giving him legitimacy.”

This is something tragic. It is a sad situation. You are deriving your legitimacy from Trump, but Trump himself is not legitimate. In fact, Trump’s own legitimacy is open to debate. So now you are trying to obtain legitimacy from outside, from a source that itself lacks legitimacy.

That is the issue of legitimacy. And I think it is very important. Because the reactions of the people are also related to the presence or absence of that legitimacy. If you possess legitimacy, you become a more peaceful, more stable society living in harmony. There would not be much conflict. If your legitimacy declines, violence, tension, and polarization increase. This is an inverse relationship.

Now look: there is already a crisis of legitimacy. There is no legitimacy internally. Where is it being sought? Abroad. And no good result will come from that.

What We Are Witnessing Is Civil Absolutism

Do you think that the Erdoğan government’s strategy toward the opposition has moved beyond competitive authoritarianism? Is Turkey now an electoral authoritarian regime, or a new form of “civil absolutism” in which elections and institutions of representation have effectively ceased to function?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: I believe that this is a system of civil absolutism. I definitely regard it as such. It is not possible to speak of competitive elections. There is no such thing in Turkey anymore. How can we speak of that in a situation where there is so much intervention? That is why I think this entirely. Exactly so.

Turkey’s Political Axis No Longer Runs Through Europe

Nested dolls depicting authoritarian and populist leaders Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and Recep Tayyip Erdogan displayed among souvenirs in Moscow on July 7, 2018. Photo: Shutterstock.

How do you assess the reactions from the European Union, the Socialist International, and various international actors following the “absolute nullity” intervention against the CHP? Do you find these reactions sufficient and sincere? Moreover, do international democratic pressure mechanisms still have any meaningful influence on Turkey?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Now, these international organizations, the European Union and the like, are of course important institutions. But when you look at the situation, every state, every nation-state, has its own interests. And certain inconsistencies emerge in line with those interests.

There is also another point. I do not want to exclude the European Union entirely, but the government in Turkey does not derive its legitimacy or support from the European Union. There is a tendency toward, and support from, the axis of the United States, the United Kingdom, and Israel.

There is already tension between the European Union and the United States, particularly in the Trump era. Under the NATO umbrella, will the European Union be able to provide for its own security? Trump opposes this. How will security against Russia be ensured? Europe is concerned about this.

And of course, European Union values are important—very important. But the extent to which those values are implemented in other countries, and the extent to which they can be supported, remains a question mark. Moreover, the European Union is itself searching for ways to ensure its own security. At present, it appears to be seeking answers to the question: “How can we provide our own security?” outside the framework of NATO.

Since Turkey’s preference lies along the axis of the United States, the United Kingdom, and Israel, European Union sanctions do not carry much importance from Turkey’s perspective. The government openly declares: “I do not recognize the decisions of the European Court of Human Rights. I do not implement them.” In such a situation, sanctions would have to be imposed. You would have to expel it from the Council. Those processes do exist. But at a certain point, they come to a standstill.

The European Union is also thinking along the lines of: “If we do this, are we going to lose Turkey?” In that respect, there is a deadlock. The European Union’s influence over Turkey is diminishing. At present, Turkey also has a particular attitude toward the European Union. In its foreign policy, it is operating on a completely different axis.

And then there is the question of maintaining a relationship with the Trump administration, with which the European Union is in conflict. There is a deadlock there as well, of course.

Law Has Become a Mechanism for Producing Political Loyalty

In your writings, you emphasize that law in Turkey has been transformed into an “instrumentalized technique of governance.” When considered together with the cases of Osman Kavala, Selahattin Demirtaş, Can Atalay, and the victims of the emergency decrees (KHKs), has the primary function of law in Turkey today become the generation of political loyalty rather than the generation of justice?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Of course it has become that. It has virtually become a mechanism for producing political loyalty. The presumption of innocence has also been reversed. In other words, there is now a situation in which everyone is treated as though they are guilty until they prove their innocence.

There is no separation of powers. There is no right to a fair trial.

When you look at all of this, the regime in Turkey has truly transformed into such a system. I do not know whether there are examples of it. There probably are, but they would be found in very backward countries. It is a situation that can only be encountered in countries where democratic culture has not developed.

Human Dignity Was Ignored in the Treatment of KHK Victims

On 20 July 2016, Turkey’s Islamist-populist President Recep Tayyip Erdogan declared a state of emergency, enabling him and the AKP cabinet to bypass parliament and rule by decree. The crackdown on possible coup plotters has since been turned into an all-out witch-hunt not only against alleged Gulen sympathizers but also leftists, Kurds and anyone critical of the government.

Has the process that began with the State of Emergency Decrees (KHKs) and that you, like many others, describe as “civil death,” evolved into a broader governing paradigm that increasingly encompasses not only certain social groups but the entire opposition?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Yes, it already has. The situation of the KHK victims is already grave. Approximately 125,000 people were dismissed from public service. Their legal rights were never recognized. Judicial processes did not function.

Many injustices were caused through these decrees, and they continue to this day. These people have no possibility of serving as witnesses in certain contexts or carrying out transactions at land registry offices. Together with their families, they constitute a broad segment of society, affecting a community of more than one million people.

I believe that what has occurred here is an injustice. I believe that human dignity has been disregarded.

“Civil death” can certainly be defined in this way. I think this is a very serious problem, a deep social wound.

Of course, the situation of the KHK victims will not be remedied under the current circumstances. But I believe that, following a change of government, their rights should be restored.

And then there are Osman Kavala, Selahattin Demirtaş, Can Atalay, and others. All of these people have been victimized. Think about it: they have lost the best years of their lives, and there is no real basis for the accusations leveled against them.

There are also judgments of the European Court of Human Rights concerning these individuals, and those judgments are not being implemented. These are grave consequences. All of these are actions and practices that can be regarded as violations of the Constitution.

The Regime Silences Those Who Move Beyond Prescribed Limits

You argue that, as the judiciary in Turkey lost its independence, the opposition continued for a long time to conduct politics as if the rule of law still existed. Do you think the current crisis is also a consequence of the opposition’s prolonged misreading of democratic backsliding?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: I have stated this before as well. The opposition either misread the situation or failed to read it at all. Or perhaps it understood it but was unable to do what was necessary.

Certainly, the opposition also bears responsibility for this democratic backsliding. However, within the regime framework we have described, we do not believe that the opposition has ever been a genuine opposition.

Nor is there any real possibility of acting as a genuine opposition. Look at what happened to Özgür Özel. Perhaps he wanted to move slightly beyond the prescribed line. He was immediately punished, and Kılıçdaroğlu was brought in, entirely unrelatedly. This is an intervention carried out solely to prevent votes from shifting toward the CHP and to ensure the continuation of the AKP’s rule.

In that respect, yes, we are witnessing that the opposition does not really have such a possibility. The moment you step beyond those limits, you are punished. In other words, the system, the regime, either destroys you, renders you ineffective, or simply ignores you.

As the Turkish poet Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar put it, I think you become the victim of an “assassination by silence” (sükût suikastı). In the end, that is what happens.

Democracy Cannot Exist Under Such Heavy Centralization

You argue that the centralized structure of the state is one of the greatest obstacles to democratization. Do the recent interventions against the CHP make it necessary to rethink debates on decentralization, local democracy, and pluralist governance in Turkey?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: It makes it absolutely necessary. Look, Turkey has a very rigid centralized structure. The administrative system is still a colonial system. It is a system of a colonial type. You appoint governors from the center, district governors from the center, directors of health, directors of national education, directors of public works and zoning from the center. The state has penetrated into the capillaries of society. In other words, there is a process of statization. Democracy cannot exist under such heavy colonization. It is unacceptable. Perhaps some dictator in a remote corner of Africa could administer such a system, but you cannot call this democracy.

Decentralization is extraordinarily important, and pluralistic participation is a fundamental principle of democracy. In fact, I have written extensively about this in my articles. It is called consociational democracy. There are many examples of consociational democracy in the world. They exist everywhere. Even countries that were once highly underdeveloped transferred powers from the center to the regions. Because democracy takes place at the local level.

You need local parliaments, and you need to transfer certain powers from the center to them. Then the democratic system begins to function there. If necessary, when a law concerning the region is being discussed in a regional parliament, local citizens should be able to go there and speak for five minutes. In this way, democratic education, civic culture, and democratic habits develop.

If you do not do this, if you try to do everything from the center, you simply cannot manage it. It will not work. And then you will be unable to solve any problems. Because regions have their own specific issues. Only the people of those regions know them, and only regional parliaments can address them. This is how the system works in Europe.

This does not harm the unitary structure of the state. On the contrary, it strengthens the unitary state’s capacity to represent political unity. If you transfer powers in this way, democracy develops.

Let us look at the process of resolving the Kurdish question in Turkey. In my view, the process is being handled incorrectly in certain respects. There is no point in conducting a process solely through Abdullah Öcalan. Abdullah Öcalan is already someone who is close to reaching an accommodation with the state. But Selahattin Demirtaş remains in prison. There is considerable interest in him among the Kurdish electorate. And Selahattin Demirtaş’s democratic stance resonates with a broad audience. Therefore, this issue should be resolved together with him and on the basis of Turkey’s democratization.

What the government wants to do is proceed along the line of: “How can I win this election? How can I secure Kurdish support?” The MHP itself says: “Citizenship is not open to debate.” It has already drawn its red lines by saying that this cannot be discussed and that cannot be discussed.

If none of these issues are going to be debated, and if the outcome is merely that some people are released from prison—of course they should be released. I support a general political amnesty. But limiting the process to that alone carries no real meaning. If that happens, the regime will simply reinforce itself by making a few concessions. That is not our objective.

Our objective should be this: we are currently in a state of nothingness. We have entered a period without a constitution. Therefore, we need a new social contract. To achieve this, we need to open a blank page, set taboos aside, and sit down together again. All actors, all stakeholders, and all segments of society must be included in this process. We must write the principles together on that blank page. What principles should guide us if we are to live together with our differences and under the protection of the law? On what principles will we agree?

This is what Turkey must do. Turkey needs a new process of reconstruction. Turkey is in no position to move forward through reforms or by patching things up here and there. Not at this moment.

Authoritarianism in Turkey Is Drifting Toward Totalitarianism

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan.
Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan watching the August 30 Victory Day Parade in Ankara, Turkey on August 30, 2014. Photo by Mustafa Kirazli.

Do you think that the lawlessness, arbitrariness, and political polarization observed in Turkey in recent years have created a widespread sense of “helplessness” and “political ineffectiveness” within society? Can we say that authoritarian regimes become entrenched precisely on this psychological foundation?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Yes, we can certainly say that. Unfortunately, this is how things are unfolding. We can think about it in the way you suggest.

There is an authoritarian regime in Turkey, but it appears almost as if authoritarianism is transforming into totalitarianism. The separation of legislative, executive, and judicial powers has been completely eliminated, and everything has been concentrated in the executive. The right to a fair trial has also disappeared.

In that case, legal security no longer exists. Then what are we supposed to debate? The nature of the regime is no longer the most important issue, because the regime has already destroyed the very foundation upon which it rests. Even authoritarian regimes may have a certain legal framework, but in our case arbitrariness has reached an extreme point. In other words, you can do whatever you want on whatever grounds you choose.

For a long time, I have described the regime in Turkey as a “might makes right regime.” You see one power at the center forming an alliance with another power and saying, “Let’s beat this person.” They say, “He misbehaved,” and they beat him. Then you look again, and another power forms an alliance with yet another power, and this time they victimize someone else.

Turkey needs to escape this impasse. Instead of constantly joining forces to beat one another, we need to think about how to ensure legal security for everyone—for Kurds, for Alevis, for non-Muslims; in other words, for all citizens. Regardless of gender differences, how are we going to guarantee this security for everyone? That is what we should be pursuing.

Instead, we act according to the mentality of “Let us obtain power and govern through power.” We do this as if law still exists. It is made to appear as though law exists, but there is no law. Nor can this have a legal foundation.

There is only naked violence. The reason the state is granted a monopoly on violence is the assumption that it will use that violence within the framework of legal rules. Otherwise, when state power—governmental power—uses violence in a naked and unrestrained manner, it becomes no different from any other organization that does not operate according to law.

There is also something else I would like to say. The issue of political struggle in Turkey is causing us to drift outside the legal framework. The permanent state of exception that law professor Adem Sözüer has spoken about is not seen merely as something created through decrees. He argues that it is reinforced through criminal law. In other words, by incorporating the rules of the law of war into criminal law, a practice emerges in which the opposition is treated as if it were an enemy.

This is also the observation of Jean-Claude Paye, who, if I am not mistaken, is a French diplomat and writer. It is a correct observation. As I said earlier, this is a century-long process. Our penal code itself was derived from a fascist penal code. When the penal code was rewritten in 2005, many of these provisions were preserved exactly as they were. There are still numerous articles that remain from that fascist penal code.

What does this mean? It means importing the principles of enemy law and the law of war and applying them against political opponents.

Now, leave aside the decrees. If your regime’s penal code is already structured in this way, and if there is also an Anti-Terror Law, then how are you going to build a democracy and a state governed by the rule of law with all of these instruments?

What emerges, then, is this: beyond this permanent state of exception, a constituent law is needed. Perhaps even a somewhat abstract law.

The Future Lies in Reconstruction, Not Restoration

Finally, in light of all these developments, do you think that Turkey still has the potential for democratic restoration? Or is the issue now, rather than restoring the existing system, to develop what you have emphasized as a “new democratic social contract” and a new constituent political imagination?

Dr. Ümit Kardaş: Definitely the latter. I have already explained why the former is not possible. This is now a regime that has completed its course, surviving with difficulty and increasingly through violence. That is what Turkey needs, what Turkish society needs, and what the Turkish people need. I believe that is also what the Turkish people want.

But how will this happen? By which path will it happen, and through which political party? We have already discussed the condition of these political parties. That is why a new construction is needed. And, as I said, we are moving toward a new construction on a blank page. We will all come together again.

This is precisely what Nelson Mandela did in South Africa. After serving his prison sentence, he emerged and was able to transform the apartheid regime through a certain compromise, without succumbing to feelings of revenge. Today, South Africa has 11 official languages, all of which are recognized in the constitution. And there are also nine autonomous regions.

There are many examples of this in different countries. This can also be overcome. But Turkey has now reached a point where society is no longer in a position to carry this burden. This society deserves much better things.

Instead of following Trump and those like him, Turkey should seek to improve its relations with the European Union. The European Union will also provide support in this regard. Ultimately, certain standards will be attained. Even if Turkey does not become a member of the European Union, it is important to adopt those standards.

The issue is not becoming Western-like, but being compatible with the West. Because under the previous (Kemalist) regime, we also had the mentality that we would become Western-like, dress like them, act like them, and become modern. But when it came to democracy and the rule of law, there was nothing there. There is no meaning in such an approach. You do not need to become Western-like. Be compatible with the West. That is the whole issue. Turkey should be able to make its choice in that direction.

Dr. Maggie Paul.

Dr. Paul: India Under Modi Has Become a Civilizational Populist Electoral Autocracy

In this ECPS interview, Dr. Maggie Paul argues that India under Narendra Modi is best understood as a “civilizational populist electoral autocracy,” in which Hindutva politics operates not only through elections and state coercion, but also through affective mass culture, media infrastructures, and majoritarian common sense. Drawing on her work on “futurist nostalgia,” saffronization, and the securitization of the “Bangladeshi infiltrator,” Dr. Paul examines how the BJP mobilizes emotions, historical memory, migration anxieties, and cultural narratives to reshape democracy and citizenship in contemporary India. The interview also explores the transnational dimensions of Hindutva mobilization, democratic erosion, bureaucratic exclusion, and the emerging cracks within the BJP’s hegemonic project.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In an era marked by democratic backsliding, affective polarization, and the global resurgence of majoritarian populism, India under Prime Minister Narendra Modi has become one of the most consequential cases for understanding how nationalism, media, religion, and state power can converge to reshape democratic life. Far from operating solely through electoral competition or overt repression, the contemporary Hindutva project increasingly functions through what Dr. Maggie Paul describes as a broader “affective economy” that mobilizes emotions, historical memory, cultural nostalgia, and civilizational anxieties to construct a new political common sense.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Maggie Paul, Lecturer in Politics at La Trobe University, examines how the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has transformed Hindutva from a political ideology into what she calls an “affective mass culture” embedded across cinema, digital media, bureaucracy, migration policy, and every day public life. Drawing on her influential co-authored work on “futurist nostalgia,” Dr. Paul argues that Hindutva politics “does not merely romanticize the past” but instead projects “a future-oriented civilizational populism” centered on the promise of restoring a glorious Hindu civilization through the symbolic framework of Ram Rajya. 

According to Dr. Paul, the BJP’s political success rests not simply on electoral dominance, but on its ability to institutionalize a majoritarian cultural common sense. “What the BJP has achieved,” she argues, “is the normalization of a particular way of being Indian—of shaping what ‘being Indian’ is supposed to feel like.” Through multi-platform media infrastructures, WhatsApp ecosystems, cinema, religious spectacle, and transnational networks, Hindutva mobilization has generated what she describes as “a majoritarian fear and anxiety circulating across multiple platforms.” 

The interview also explores how migration and citizenship have been securitized through the figure of the “Bangladeshi infiltrator,” a discourse that Dr. Paul traces back to colonial governance structures. In her analysis, Hindutva politics has expanded these colonial categories into a broader process of “migrantizing the citizen,” particularly targeting Muslims and marginalized communities through bureaucratic exclusion, citizenship legislation, and mass electoral revisions such as the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) exercise. 

At the same time, Dr. Paul emphasizes that coercion remains central to the Hindutva project. “Hindutva populist mobilization legitimizes coercive practices,” she explains, noting how violence, incarceration, bulldozer demolitions, and punitive state measures are reframed as acts of national protection within a broader civilizational narrative. 

Reflecting on the broader trajectory of the Modi era, Dr. Paul ultimately argues that contemporary India cannot be adequately understood through a single conceptual framework. Competitive authoritarianism, ethnocratic majoritarianism, and civilizational populism each capture only part of the picture. Instead, she concludes, “the current Indian regime is best understood as a hybrid of all these elements,” which she characterizes as “a civilizational populist electoral autocracy.” 

Yet despite the apparent hegemony of Hindutva populism, Dr. Paul also points to emerging cracks within the system—particularly among younger generations confronting unemployment, precarity, and frustrated aspirations. Echoing Antonio Gramsci, she reminds us that “hegemony is never total or complete,” and that democratic resistance in India may ultimately depend not only on institutional opposition, but also on the mobilization of alternative affective imaginaries rooted in India’s pluralistic and syncretic traditions. 

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

Civilizational Populism and the Reimagining of India’s Future

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.

Dr. Maggie Paul, welcome! To begin, in your work on “futurist nostalgia,” you argue that Hindutva politics does not merely romanticize the past but projects an idealized Hindu future through mythological symbols such as Ram Rajya. In light of the BJP’s sweeping victories in Assam and West Bengal in the 2026 state elections, to what extent do these outcomes reflect the consolidation of a future-oriented civilizational populism built around cultural nostalgia, Hindu majoritarianism, and the promise of national renewal under Narendra Modi? 

Dr. Maggie Paul: Thank you for that question, Selçuk. The concept of futurist nostalgia is something my co-author, Associate Professor Priya Chako—who is essentially the primary author—and I developed while analyzing the case of India and the BJP’s populist mobilization strategies through Ernesto Laclau’s theorization of populism. In other words, we approached populism as a logic of political articulation, or a discursive construction of “the people.” In the paper, we sought to foreground the role emotions play in this discursive construction, which we understand as a unificatory rather than a homogeneous formation.

What we argued is that emotions help cultivate a vague sense of solidarity among disparate groups and actors who may otherwise be divided along lines of religion, caste, class, or region, but are nevertheless brought together into a broader collective identity. We highlighted that this process often operates through a populist signifier. In many contexts—not only in India—this signifier is embodied in the figure of the leader himself. In the Indian case, this is reflected in the figure of Narendra Modi, but also in affective signifiers such as the Hindu deity Ram and the reformulated concept of Ram Rajya.

This is essentially an affective formation rooted in nostalgia for a lost golden age of “Hindu civilization.” However, in our paper, we also frame it as projecting a future-oriented aspiration. We emphasize how emotions are central to empowering this affective populist signifier. These emotions include negative ones, such as a sense of historical injury, woundedness, and victimization at the hands of multiple actors, but also positive emotions, including pride and a sense of collective purpose directed toward realizing the ideal of Ram Rajya.

BJP’s Bengal Victory and the Politics of the ‘Outsider

We therefore characterized this phenomenon as a future-oriented civilizational populism, one in which a market-based cultural infrastructure is constructed for a “new India” that combines modern developmentalism and neoliberal growth with a broader cultural reawakening. It is a vision of India that fuses these various emotional registers through the populist signifier of Ram Rajya. That was the core idea behind futurist nostalgia.

Turning to the present elections, I do think this kind of affective mobilization of civilizational populism played a significant role. In Bengal, for example—which represented the BJP’s most important victory—the incumbent Trinamool Congress was characterized as an anti-Hindu party aligned with the figure of the “outsider,” namely Muslims.

I should add that this affective mobilization around Ram Rajya serves not only a unificatory function, but also the creation of an antagonistic frontier. In other words, it constructs an “outsider.” Most prominently, this can refer to minorities such as Muslims, but it can also include established elites or opposition parties portrayed as catering to these outsiders and thereby obstructing the realization of a glorious civilizational future. So, the framework operates simultaneously as a unifying force and as a mechanism for constructing political antagonism.

In the Bengal elections, this formulation was clearly visible. The Trinamool Congress was portrayed as a party serving “outsiders” or Muslims and therefore as anti-Hindu. The figure of the “infiltrator” also played a central role. The ruling party was accused of encouraging illegal immigration, framed in India as “infiltration,” and its electoral success was attributed to these alleged outsiders.

Why Bengal’s Resistance to Hindutva Began to Fracture

At the same time, there was the introduction of an acontextual celebration of Ram Navami, a Ram-associated festival that historically has not been particularly prominent in Bengal. The BJP nevertheless promoted it consistently in the years leading up to the election as it sought to establish itself in the region. In other contexts, Ram Navami mobilization has often been associated with a more aggressive or masculinized form of Hinduism, and that dynamic was also imported into Bengal. This, in turn, compelled the Trinamool Congress to engage on the terrain of Hindutva politics as well.

So yes, these affective and civilizational populist strategies certainly contributed to the BJP’s remarkable success in Bengal. However, I would also complicate the argument somewhat, because the concept of futurist nostalgia alone cannot fully explain the outcome.

First, the Trinamool Congress had been in power for more than fifteen years, which generated strong anti-incumbency sentiment. There was also a widespread perception of economic stagnation, alongside forms of syndicalist politics associated with everyday criminality and highly extractive relationships between party cadres and ordinary citizens. These grievances against the incumbent government were significant.

Second, Bengal’s own political history must be taken into account. Bengal has often been portrayed as a region resistant to Hindutva-style populism for a variety of reasons: the intellectual project of the Bhadralok, or upper-caste and upper-class elites associated with the Bengal Renaissance; the long legacy of Left governance; and a trans-religious regional Bengali identity. All of these factors historically constrained the success of BJP-style Hindutva mobilization.

At the same time, however, Bengal also contains historical roots of Hindu nationalist mobilization. An insightful analysis published in Himal Mag discussed how the conflation of Indian civilization with Hindu civilization has important roots in Bengal nationalism led by upper-caste elites. In that sense, there has long existed a latent Islamophobia and a mobilization around “Hindu identity” and civilizationalism within Bengal’s own political history.

But third, and perhaps most importantly, we must also consider institutional corruption. Several scholars of Hindu nationalism and populism, including Christophe Jaffrelot, have shown how the BJP and the broader Hindutva right have captured institutions—not only the legislature, but also the judiciary and executive. What these elections highlighted, however, was not merely institutional capture, but institutional corruption as well.

Competitive Authoritarianism and BJP’s Electoral Consolidation

This is why concepts such as competitive authoritarianism are also important explanatory frameworks for understanding the Bengal victory. Factors such as systematic gerrymandering in Assam, designed in ways that benefit majoritarian voting and the ruling party, are crucial. Similarly, opposition leaders facing corruption allegations were absorbed into the BJP, after which those allegations were effectively abandoned. All of this matters politically.

There is also the issue of the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) exercise, which involved an extensive revision of electoral rules that disproportionately affected minorities and contributed to mass disenfranchisement. Broadly speaking, around nine million potential voters were removed. Although this was framed as a neutral bureaucratic and technical exercise, the reality is that it disproportionately affected minorities, as well as women, who often face more complicated challenges in proving citizenship through official identification documents. 

So, I think institutional corruption and competitive authoritarianism also need to be incorporated as central explanatory factors in understanding these electoral outcomes

The BJP’s Construction of an Affective Mass Culture

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and former US President Donald Trump met to discuss the betterment of the relations of India and US at Heydrabad House in New Delhi on February 25, 2020. Photo: Madhuram Paliwal.

Your scholarship highlights how nostalgia operates as a political technology that binds collective identity through emotional attachment to a mythologized past. To what extent has the BJP succeeded in transforming Hindu nationalism from an ideological project into an affective mass culture embedded in cinema, digital media, and every day public life?

Dr. Maggie Paul: I really appreciated the term you used — “affective mass culture.” I think the BJP has been remarkably successful in constructing an affective infrastructure through multiple forms of media. It is distributed, multi-platform, and operates across a wide range of media ecosystems in order to produce what you rightly describe as an affective mass culture—one that promotes a particular “common sense” within Indian public life. It circulates the affective economy I referred to earlier: positive emotions associated with pride in “Hindu civilization”, alongside animosity toward constructed antagonistic frontiers. In that sense, it has been extraordinarily effective.

This reminds me of the work of the cultural anthropologist Arjun Appadurai, who speaks about cultural resonance. What the BJP has achieved is the normalization of a particular way of being Indian—of shaping what “being Indian” is supposed to feel like. In that regard, its success has been substantial.

At the same time, I want to emphasize that this phenomenon must also be understood in relation to neoliberal governance. The concept of Ram Rajya, for instance, is not only about the construction of temples or monuments. It is equally tied to aspirational middle-class cultural consumption and to religious tourism as a broader circuit. All of this is deeply connected to neoliberal governance structures.

Additionally, this phenomenon cannot be understood solely within the domestic sphere. It is fundamentally transnational. A recent article published by the Transnational Institute described Hindutva mobilization as one of the most effective forms of transnational right-wing populist mobilization. Beginning with Hindu right-wing organizations and networks operating across various parts of the world—particularly in Western countries—these actors are able to advance Hindu culture wars even beyond India itself.

Modi’s Global Spectacles and the Transnationalization of Hindutva

At the same time, they create large-scale spectacles centered around Modi as the symbolic focal point: Modi at Madison Square Garden, Modi leading the G20, or Modi at the White House. These spectacles are then reflected back into the domestic affective economy, reinforcing and intensifying populist mobilization within India. So, this is very much a transnational phenomenon and must be understood in those terms.

I also draw on Appadurai’s discussion of the “fear of small numbers,” particularly his analysis of the role minorities play in affective mobilization. What emerges is a kind of predatory anxiety among the majority directed toward minorities—most prominently Muslims in this case. Importantly, this anxiety is not grounded in empirical data or any objectively measurable threat. Rather, it stems from a subjective feeling that minorities obstruct the achievement of cultural completeness.

This is therefore a deeply affective phenomenon, and I do not think it can simply be countered through logic or rational argumentation. That is precisely what this form of mass culture has managed to sustain and mobilize: a majoritarian fear and anxiety circulating across multiple platforms.

Moreover, this process is not confined to television alone, although television—often referred to as “godi media” (the term refers to Indian media outlets perceived as excessively supportive of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party. S.G.)—certainly plays a major role in reproducing populist narratives through primetime broadcasts. It also operates through other infrastructures, especially the WhatsApp networks that the BJP has built with remarkable effectiveness. This has been extensively studied by scholars, as well as by digital wellness platforms examining the BJP’s expansive WhatsApp ecosystem.

This infrastructure consists of numerous WhatsApp groups, alongside thousands of workers associated with the BJP IT Cell, who continuously circulate and recirculate narratives centered on the “fear of small numbers.” In doing so, they sustain this broader affective economy of civilizational populism. 

So, this kind of multi-sided mobilization—the infrastructure the BJP has managed to construct—is extremely potent.

The Saffronization of India’s Cultural Imagination

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

In “Ram Rajya 2.0,” you discuss how popular cinema increasingly reifies binaries between the “native Hindu” and the “foreign Muslim invader.” How significant has the saffronization of Indian cinema and popular culture been in normalizing authoritarian majoritarian politics under Narendra Modi?

Dr. Maggie Paul: By saffronization, we mean a kind of re-contextualization or re-telling of the country’s history in ways that suit the Hindutva agenda, while also invoking pride in a muscular Hindu identity. It cements an upper-caste, upper-class Hindu past, as well as a Hindu future, while marginalizing other histories—those of minorities, lower castes, and others. That is essentially what we mean by the saffronization of popular culture.

What I would emphasize, however, is that this process is structurally complex. It is not simply straightforward propaganda, and propaganda theory alone cannot fully explain it. Rather, it involves the creation of an ecosystem that simultaneously incentivizes these narratives while also incorporating coercive elements, thereby producing a broader process of normalization. So, it is far more complicated than direct propaganda.

That said, there are also very explicit examples. In our article for Red Pepper, we highlighted the phenomenon of Hindutva pop culture, in which a form of violent spectatorship is cultivated. This includes pop music with blatantly Islamophobic lyrics set to highly catchy tunes. It also operates through the neoliberal dynamics of digital algorithmic profit-making. In other words, platform economies themselves reward such content because algorithmic systems generate visibility, engagement, and profit for those producing it. Kunal Purohit has written an excellent book, H-Pop, which explores this phenomenon in considerable detail.

We also discuss in our article how, since 2014 and the rise of the BJP, there has been a wave of films built around remarkably similar plotlines. I will not go into all of them, but examples include Padmaavat, Tanhaji, and Kesari. These films tend to retell medieval history through a recurring narrative structure in which an excessively villainous Muslim ruler or invader is positioned against a Hindu warrior hero who, against all odds, struggles to defend Hindu dharma from this threatening Muslim figure. There has been an entire wave of films circulating this type of storyline. What this does is draw audiences into the perception of an ongoing civilizational struggle through these narratives.

Building an Affective Mass Culture Through Reward and Coercion

At the same time, there is also an infrastructure of reward. Films that explicitly advance Hindutva mobilization narratives are strategically encouraged by the government. Modi, for example, has publicly praised films such as The Kashmir Filesand The Kerala Story, both of which were highly controversial and presented highly selective or empirically questionable histories rather than nuanced accounts. These films are systematically encouraged by the government, granted tax-free status, and in some cases formally rewarded—The Kerala Story, for instance, received a National Award.

Alongside this reward structure, however, there is also a coercive structure. Celebrities who become even mildly critical can face retaliation in the form of tax raids or other punitive state measures. What emerges, therefore, is a complex ecosystem in which the promotion of civilizational narratives aligned with the current political order is rewarded, while those who are even slightly critical are penalized through state mechanisms.

So yes, it is a complex structure, but one that has nevertheless been highly effective in instituting what you described as an affective mass culture.

How Cultural Common Sense Legitimizes Coercion

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

You describe saffronization as both overt and subtle, confrontational yet normalized. How should we understand the relationship between cultural normalization and democratic erosion in India today? Is authoritarianism becoming embedded less through coercion alone and more through cultural common sense?

Dr. Maggie Paul: There is definitely both. In my previous answer, I discussed how multi-sided media platforms, together with various cultural projects, have been highly successful in instituting the kind of common sense you referred to.

Sometimes this process is explicitly confrontational, as in the plotlines of films I mentioned earlier, such as The Kashmir Files or The Kerala Story, where there is a stark Manichean divide. But at other times it operates much more subtly. For instance, the recent success of the highly controversial film Durandar was widely praised for its technological innovation and cinematic sophistication, and, like many earlier films, it performed extremely well commercially. Yet it relied on much subtler forms of mobilization. Fantasy was textured with fragments of evidence, creating a hybridized narrative structure that partially obscured its ideological messaging. It was not as overtly confrontational or straightforward as some of the other films I discussed earlier. So, there are both explicit and subtle cultural projects operating simultaneously.

At the same time, coercion has never disappeared. It has always been present, and I do not think coercion can be treated as secondary. In fact, it has been a primary feature of Hindutva populist mobilization from the very beginning. We should not forget that, particularly because it is not only continuing but escalating.

This includes the lynching of Muslims, which was in many ways how this entire process began, as well as violence directed against other communities, including Christians and Dalits. It also includes the neoliberal extraction of resources in tribal areas and the heavy policing of resistance to that extraction, alongside the incarceration of political activists—particularly student activists, and especially Muslim student activists. There has also been the jailing of political opponents, something the BJP engaged in quite explicitly during the previous general elections.

The Civilizational Logic Behind Authoritarian Enforcement

So, coercion has never gone away. It remains a very significant feature of Hindutva populist mobilization in India. What civilizational populism and affective mobilization do, however, is to lend legitimacy to this coercion in the eyes of the broader public.

For instance, the jailing of political opponents or student activists can be framed as a form of law enforcement or as something necessary for the protection of the nation, because these individuals are characterized as anti-national within this broader civilizational framework. In that sense, Hindutva populist mobilization legitimizes coercive practices.

Similarly, explicit violence against minorities can be presented as a form of “justice” or “swift justice.” This is reflected in the distinctly Indian phenomenon of “bulldozer nationalism,” in which anyone perceived as creating trouble can have their property demolished—most often members of minority communities.

So, coercion is always there: ever-present and escalating. But the creation of this broader common sense around populist mobilization lends that coercion a far wider legitimacy within Indian public life.

How Migration Became a Civilizational Security Threat

Your work on the “Bangladeshi infiltrator” demonstrates how migration has been securitized through the language of war, invasion, and demographic aggression. How central was this discourse to the BJP’s electoral consolidation in Assam and West Bengal during the 2026 elections? 

Dr. Maggie Paul: This question is directly connected to the work I have been doing for my doctoral thesis. I want to introduce a certain degree of nuance here, because my central argument is that scholarship often presents Hindutva as a rupture within Indian nationalism—a radical break from the secular postcolonial polity that emerged after independence.

What I explore in my doctoral dissertation, which focuses on the securitization and political history of the “Bangladeshi infiltrator,” is how labor migration from Bangladesh came to be framed through the language of security and invasion. My research demonstrates that this discourse is deeply rooted in the colonial state apparatus and extends far beyond the postcolonial period. In fact, it goes back to the colonial era, and the state infrastructures established during India’s experience under British rule. These infrastructures were inherited by the postcolonial state, and what Hindutva politics has done is to further perfect and radicalize them.

What I mean by this is that the legal architecture used to police “foreign nationals”—most notably the Foreigners Act of 1947—is itself a colonial phenomenon. The postcolonial state largely retained this framework, and it remains the principal legal apparatus used to punish “foreigners.” It is important to foreground the colonial origins of this law because it was originally designed to establish British monopoly control over Indigenous mobility. In practice, it was highly racialized: during colonial rule, it was overwhelmingly used against Indians, while Europeans were never targeted under the same legislation. It also granted local state authorities extensive discretionary powers to determine who could be suspected of being a “foreigner.” Much of this structure has remained intact within the postcolonial state apparatus. Indeed, some scholars argue that it has been further strengthened under the BJP, particularly through newer legislation such as the Immigration Foreigners Act, which significantly expands the state’s punitive capacity.

Secondly, the figure of the “infiltrator” itself has colonial precedents. During the late colonial period, particularly in Bengal and Assam, the figure of the land-hungry peasant migrant was already being constructed as an invading presence. Colonial governance technologies such as the census and identity categorization were mobilized to produce the image of the peasant migrant as a demographic threat. This became the precursor to what later evolved into the postcolonial figure of the “infiltrator.” So, the image of the migrant as invader unquestionably has colonial roots.

From Citizen to ‘Infiltrator’ in Modi’s India

What the BJP and Hindutva populism have done, however, is redirect this colonial category toward the citizen. One of the central findings of my research is that the category of the “infiltrator” has been mobilized in order to shift minority and marginalized citizens into the category of migrant. In other words, it is a process of migrantizing the citizen.

Importantly, this was not something invented by the BJP. Even before the BJP came to power, bureaucratic mediation over who counted as an Indian citizen and who did not was already taking place at the local level. What the BJP has done is scale this process up dramatically through large bureaucratic projects such as the NRC, the National Register of Citizens, and now the SIR, combined with citizenship amendment legislation. So, the key transformation lies in the expansion of scale.

At the same time, within the Hindutva universe, the figure of the “infiltrator” acquires a specifically civilizational meaning. Because Hindutva mobilization is fundamentally a form of civilizational populism, the enemy is understood not only in geopolitical terms, but also in demographic terms. “The infiltrator”—essentially coded as Muslim, whether a transnational migrant or an internal Muslim citizen—is framed as a form of demographic aggression against the Hindu nation.

As a result, bureaucratic violence directed against this infiltrator figure is not presented as violence at all, but rather as protection and security for the Hindu nation. That is why this discourse is politically so powerful.

And to answer your question directly: yes, this discourse was absolutely mobilized in Assam and West Bengal during the 2026 elections. These are border states, and the issue of “infiltration” carries enormous affective and political resonance there. Whether through the SIR exercise, or through portraying the incumbent government in Bengal as a party appeasing infiltrators, this discourse played a major role in electoral mobilization. In Assam, for instance, the chief minister openly boasted that he had pushed “infiltrators” “back into Bangladesh.” So, the figure of “the infiltrator” was unquestionably central to the BJP’s mobilization strategies in both Assam and West Bengal. 

India as a Civilizational Populist Electoral Autocracy

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

And finally, Dr. Paul, after the BJP’s dramatic expansion across India’s states and the weakening of regional and Left alternatives, how should scholars conceptualize the current Indian regime? Are we witnessing competitive authoritarianism, ethnocratic majoritarianism, or the emergence of a new model of populist civilizational democracy under Modi?

Dr. Maggie Paul: I think it is something of a hybrid. All of these concepts can only do partial work in fully describing what is unfolding in India today.

When we speak of competitive authoritarianism, for instance, the concept points to formally democratic but fundamentally unfair electoral practices. That is certainly part of the picture, but it remains incomplete, because Modi’s popularity cannot be explained solely through electoral victories. He has also been remarkably successful in projecting himself as a signifier of the will of Hindu civilization. He has effectively become the “Hindu Hriday Samrat,” the prince of Hindu civilization, as we discussed earlier. So, competitive authoritarianism alone does not fully capture the phenomenon.

Similarly, ethnocratic majoritarianism points to the emergence of a two-tiered citizenship structure in which Hindus become primary citizens, while minorities are relegated to second-tier citizenship. That is also clearly happening through bureaucratic violence and legislative practices, including amendments to citizenship laws in India. But again, that concept is also incomplete.

And finally, there is civilizational populism. As we discussed earlier, the affective mobilization around restoring a glorious Hindu past for a future Hindu civilization has been extremely successful. Yet that concept alone risks overlooking the coercive practices and institutional corruption highlighted by frameworks such as competitive authoritarianism.

So, I think the current Indian regime is best understood as a hybrid of all these elements. I would characterize it as a civilizational populist electoral autocracy.

At the same time, I want to emphasize that this project contains significant internal contradictions. At the moment, it is undeniably hegemonic. It has successfully instituted a majoritarian common sense through the affective economy of mass media and cultural mobilization, as we discussed earlier. But, as Antonio Gramsci argued, hegemony is never total or complete.

This kind of populist mobilization brings together disparate actors who project their own aspirations onto a common populist signifier—whether that is Ram Rajya or the figure of Modi himself. These groups carry their own histories of marginalization. This includes lower-caste and lower-class voters who, for instance, voted for the BJP in significant numbers during the Bengal elections, which itself represents an important political development.

The ‘Cockroach Janta Party’ and Youth Disillusionment

What I want to stress is that all of these actors bring their own experiences of marginalization and aspirations into this populist project. For the time being, the populist signifier is able to contain these aspirations. But if the promised renewal associated with this futurist Ram Rajya does not materialize in tangible ways—if there are no meaningful material benefits—then cracks begin to appear.

I think this became particularly visible in a very recent phenomenon that emerged just within the past week: a youth-led mobilization in digital spaces calling itself the “Cockroach Janta Party.” It began as a form of parody after comments by the Chief Justice of India comparing unemployed youth to cockroaches and parasites engaged in anti-national activities instead of productive work.

This parody movement became a vehicle for expressing broader material frustrations, particularly among young people facing rising unemployment, blocked aspirations for government jobs, repeated examination leaks, and wider forms of economic precarity. In many ways, the “Cockroach Janta Party” reflected a crack in the cultural common sense that BJP-style civilizational populism has managed to institutionalize.

So, I think this demonstrates that the current hegemonic project is not complete. Spaces of resistance remain possible. Much of that resistance, however, also has to operate at the level of affect. It cannot rely solely on logic or rational critique. It must mobilize alternative affective politics rooted not only in material realities, but also in alternative historical imaginaries and traditions within India itself.

India remains a deeply pluralist society, and many people continue to be emotionally attached to its syncretic and pluralistic traditions. That affective register, too, can potentially be mobilized as a counter to the hegemonic project of Hindutva civilizational populism.

Özgür Özel, leader of Turkey’s main opposition CHP and a recent target of political judicial intervention, attends the inauguration of a cultural center named after the late Manisa Metropolitan Mayor Ferdi Zeyrek. Photo: Idil Toffolo / Dreamstime.

Turkey’s Managed Permanence: Lawfare, Institutional Capture, and the End of Democratic Uncertainty

In this timely and deeply analytical essay, Professor Ibrahim Ozturk examines how Turkey is moving beyond competitive authoritarianism toward what he terms a system of “managed permanence,” in which elections formally survive while meaningful democratic alternation becomes increasingly constrained. Focusing on the judicial intervention into the CHP, the encirclement of opposition municipalities, media capture, and the erosion of institutional autonomy, Professor Ozturk argues that the Erdoğan regime is no longer merely repressing opposition actors, but actively re-engineering the political field itself. The essay further explores how lawfare, economic fragility, transactional geopolitics, and institutional decay have become mutually reinforcing dynamics. Ultimately, the piece warns that Turkey’s crisis is no longer only democratic or economic, but fundamentally a crisis of institutional credibility and constitutional uncertainty.

By Ibrahim Ozturk

When Hungary’s 2026 elections produced an early wave of enthusiasm around the idea that “dictators, too, can be defeated,” the reaction was understandable but premature. In a recent ECPS long-read commentary on Péter Magyar and Hungary’s hybrid-authoritarian rupture, I warned against romanticizing Orbán’s defeat as automatic democratic restoration, and stressed that comparative analogies travel badly: what may be cooking in the neighbor’s house does not necessarily fall onto our plate — Turkey is not Hungary, and each authoritarian case rests on its own institutional, geopolitical, social, and economic architecture. 

Turkey has now confirmed that warning with brutal speed. Before the optimism generated by Hungary’s rupture could settle into a broader democratic lesson, Ankara moved in the opposite direction: the main opposition was judicially destabilized, municipal autonomy was further encircled, a major university’s operating license was revoked, and the already fragile boundary between competitive authoritarianism and managed permanence narrowed even further. The message is unmistakable: authoritarian regimes may sometimes lose elections, but they do not necessarily accept political contingency — and in Turkey’s case, the regime appears determined to prevent meaningful alternation before it can happen.

Thus, Turkey has entered a new and more dangerous phase of competitive authoritarianism. The issue is no longer confined to the imprisonment of opposition figures, the removal of elected mayors, or the selective deployment of criminal investigations. The deeper transformation now concerns the legal and institutional re-engineering of the opposition itself. The court decision annulling the Republican People’s Party (CHP)’s 2023 congress—effectively removing Özgür Özel and reinstating Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu as party leader—marks a qualitative escalation: the judiciary is no longer merely disciplining opposition actors from the outside; it is intervening directly in the internal sovereignty of the main opposition party. Reuters reported that the ruling annulled the CHP’s 2023 leadership election, suspended Özel and the party executive, and reinstated Kılıçdaroğlu, while the CHP’s elected executives denounced the decision as a judicial coup.

In Turkish legal terminology, the concept of “absolute nullity” may appear technical. Politically, however, it functions as a mechanism of retroactive delegitimation. A past party congress is declared void; the current leadership is suspended; a former leadership is restored; and the organizational continuity of the opposition is plunged into legal uncertainty. The outcome is not merely a leadership change. It is the construction of a “lame-duck opposition”: formally present and electorally significant on paper, yet institutionally constrained, internally fragmented, and increasingly vulnerable to judicial veto.

From Electoral Defeat to Judicial Containment

The turning point came with the local elections of March 31, 2024. In those elections, the CHP delivered President Erdoğan and the AKP their most significant electoral defeat in decades, while retaining Istanbul and Ankara—long regarded as key opposition strongholds—and achieving major gains across the country. CHP secured approximately 37 percent of the nationwide vote, narrowly surpassing the AKP, and won municipalities in 36 of Turkey’s 81 provinces. The outcome was Erdoğan’s biggest electoral setback and Ekrem İmamoğlu had emerged as his “default nemesis.”

The result fundamentally altered the regime’s threat perception. The opposition was no longer merely a parliamentary minority or a symbolic protest bloc. It had acquired administrative capacity, access to local budgets, service-delivery networks, public visibility, and presidential contenders with nationwide appeal. İmamoğlu, Mansur Yavaş, and the renewed CHP leadership under Özgür Özel represented not only electoral competition, but the emergence of an alternative governing infrastructure.

The regime’s response has followed a recognizable authoritarian playbook: do not abolish elections outright; hollow them out. Do not ban the opposition; fragment, criminalize, and bureaucratically paralyze it. Do not formally dissolve local governments; restrict their fiscal instruments, remove or prosecute their elected leaders, and make every municipal decision vulnerable to criminalization. In this sense, the CHP ruling should not be read as an isolated party-law dispute. It is part of a strategy to convert the main opposition from an electoral threat into a controlled, divided, and procedurally disabled actor.

Lawfare and the Collapse of Rule of Law

The CHP case sits inside a wider pattern of lawfare against opposition mayors, party officials, journalists, lawyers, academics, and civil society actors. Freedom House’s 2026 assessment classifies Turkey as “Not Free,” with a score of 32 out of 100, including 16/40 for political rights and 16/60 for civil liberties. This is not a marginal decline. It signals a political system in which elections continue, but the freedoms necessary for meaningful electoral competition are structurally impaired.

The rule-of-law picture is equally severe. The World Justice Project’s 2025 Rule of Law Index places Turkey 118th out of 143 countries. Turkey also ranks near the bottom of its region and among upper-middle-income countries. The index measures constraints on government powers, absence of corruption, open government, fundamental rights, regulatory enforcement, civil justice, and criminal justice — precisely the institutional foundations now under stress in Turkey’s opposition cases.

This matters because authoritarianism in Turkey does not operate primarily through overt illegality. More often, it functions through excessive legality: sprawling investigations, procedural ambiguities, retroactive annulments, prolonged pre-trial detention, anonymous witnesses, and charges that are difficult to contest because the process itself becomes the punishment. In such a system, the courts do not need to formally ban the opposition as a political force. They can exhaust it, fragment it, delegitimize it, and keep it in a permanent state of defensiveness.

The logic is as coercive as it is punitive. Opposition figures are pressured through detention, threats to personal assets, indictments, reputational attacks, and the prospect of escalating sentences. Where evidentiary standards are weak or politically contested, mechanisms such as anonymous witnesses and “effective remorse” provisions can become instruments of narrative production: lower-level actors are pressured to implicate higher-ranking opposition figures, while refusal may expose both them and their families to further legal vulnerability. This is not merely prosecution; it is political extraction through criminal procedure.

Of course, the authoritarian acceleration did not begin with the most recent CHP case. It was dramatically intensified after the failed coup attempt of July 15, 2016, which the government used to consolidate emergency rule, neutralize the unresolved political consequences of the December17–25, 2013 corruption allegations, and restructure the judiciary, bureaucracy, media, and civil society under executive command. Many opposition actors, including the CHP, underestimated or tolerated the early stages of this process; today, as thousands of cases reach the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) under Article 7 and Article 3 concerns, the same emergency-state machinery has expanded from alleged Gülenists to Kurds, socialists, liberals, journalists, mayors, academics, and now the main opposition itself.

Capturing the Public Sphere

Judicial pressure becomes far more effective when it operates inside a captured information environment. Turkey’s media landscape is already deeply distorted. In the 2026 World Press Freedom Index, Reporters Without Borders (RSF) ranks Turkey 163rd out of 180 countries, with a score of 27.94. RSF’s country profile places Turkey in the “very serious” category and notes that media pluralism remains under severe pressure.

Media repression in Turkey has evolved beyond the traditional closure or capture of media outlets into a hybrid authoritarian system of digital censorship, where online news links and social media content are removed without effective judicial review on elastic grounds such as national security, public order, religious or family values, and the unity of the state, while those who escape imprisonment may still be silenced through account suspensions and platform-level restrictions.

This means that electoral competition is distorted not only through courts, prosecutions, and candidate bans, but also through unequal access to information. When opposition leaders are criminalized, government-aligned media amplify the accusations, while independent journalism operates under conditions of fear, fines, arrests, ownership pressure, and regulatory intimidation. Elections may still take place, but voters encounter the opposition through a public sphere heavily structured by executive power.

This is the contemporary version of “open voting, secret counting.” Today, the mechanisms are more sophisticated. The ballot may remain secret, and the counting process may remain formally observable, yet the media landscape, judiciary, party autonomy, local government capacity, candidate eligibility, and financial environment are all subjected to sustained political pressure. Elections survive as ritualized procedures; democratic alternation is rendered increasingly improbable.

Municipal Counter-Power and Administrative Encirclement

The The attack on the CHP is inseparable from the broader assault on opposition-run municipalities. After the 2024 local elections, Istanbul, Ankara, and other major cities represented not merely electoral victories, but alternative centers of political legitimacy. Municipal governments possessed the capacity to deliver services, develop their own patronage networks, expose failures of the central government, and cultivate presidential contenders with executive credibility.

This is why the restriction of municipal autonomy has become so consequential. Turkish media reports indicate that recent legal changes now require presidential approval for municipalities and their affiliated entities to establish companies, acquire shares, or join cooperatives. Opposition critics argue that these measures transform local economic initiative into a permission regime ultimately controlled by the presidency.

The corruption data help explain why this matters. Transparency International’s 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) gives Turkey a score of 31/100, ranking it 124th out of 182 countries. The CPI is not simply about bribery; it is about discretionary public power, weak accountability, and the erosion of impartial administration. In Turkey’s case, this means that municipal resources, public tenders, regulatory approvals, media licensing, universities, and courts increasingly operate within a political economy of executive discretion.

The closure of Istanbul Bilgi University on the same political night adds another layer to this broader pattern. The Erdoğan regime revoked the university’s operational license, effectively forcing it to shut down, after the institution had already been seized by the state through a criminal investigation the previous year. Under Decree-Law No. 667, 15 private and foundation universities were closed in July 2016. This pattern later continued with the closure of İstanbul Şehir University in 2020 and the revocation of İstanbul Bilgi University’s operating license on May 21, 2026, effectively bringing another major academic institution to an end.

This pattern demonstrates that university autonomy—like municipal autonomy, media autonomy, and party autonomy—has increasingly become conditional on executive tolerance rather than protected by constitutional guarantees. Universities, municipalities, opposition parties, media outlets, and civil society organizations all represent potential alternative centers of legitimacy. The current trajectory seeks not necessarily to abolish all of them outright, but to render their survival contingent upon executive tolerance.

The Constitutional Horizon: Erdoğan’s Problem of Time

The deeper strategic horizon concerns the presidency itself. Erdoğan’s rule faces a constitutional time problem. Current constitutional provisions limit the presidency to two terms, although scenarios involving early elections and constitutional reinterpretations have long been debated. Erdoğan’s coalition partner, Devlet Bahçeli, has already floated the possibility of a constitutional amendment that would allow Erdoğan to extend his tenure beyond the existing limits. In 2024, Bahçeli openly proposed such an amendment, while also acknowledging that Erdoğan would otherwise be serving his final term unless early elections were called.

This is precisely why the organizational integrity of the opposition matters so much. A unified CHP under Özgür Özel, with Ekrem İmamoğlu or Mansur Yavaş as credible national contenders, would constitute a serious obstacle to any attempt to redesign the constitutional calendar. By contrast, a fragmented CHP operating under sustained judicial pressure provides the ruling bloc with greater room for maneuver. Under such conditions, the government can call early elections when the opposition is weakened, pursue constitutional changes within an asymmetric political environment, or manufacture the appearance of pluralist consent through a domesticated opposition.

The objective is not necessarily to abolish elections altogether. It is to eliminate uncertainty. Turkey is increasingly moving toward a model of managed permanence: the ballot box remains, but the possibility of democratic alternation becomes structurally disabled.

External Complicity: Europe’s Dependency and Trumpian Transactionalism

The external environment has facilitated this authoritarian acceleration in Turkey. The European Union remains rhetorically committed to democracy and the rule of law, yet its leverage over Turkey has steadily weakened. The European Commission continues to define Turkey as a candidate country and an essential partner on issues such as climate policy, migration management, security, counterterrorism, and trade. CEPS has similarly arguedthat EU–Turkey relations increasingly expose the limits of transactionalism, noting that bilateral engagement now extends across energy security, foreign and security policy, trade, counterterrorism, and defense connectivity amid growing uncertainty in transatlantic relations.

This dependence produces a familiar European dilemma: democratic values are invoked rhetorically, but meaningful conditionality remains weak. The EU may express concern, but concern alone does not impose political cost. Turkey’s strategic role in migration control, NATO, Russia policy, Black Sea security, Middle Eastern diplomacy, and regional energy corridors has created an external environment that is increasingly permissive of democratic backsliding.

The United States under Trump adds another layer of transactional permissiveness to this environment. This does not necessarily mean that Washington explicitly endorses every domestic crackdown carried out by the Erdoğan government. It does, however, suggest that Erdoğan is increasingly able to exchange geopolitical utility for international normalization. The German Marshall Fund cited remarks by US Ambassador Tom Barrack in 2025 indicating that Trump wanted to give Erdoğan what he needed — “legitimacy” — within the framework of a more transactional and deal-oriented bilateral relationship.

This pattern is hardly new in American foreign policy. Across the Middle East and Latin America, Washington has often found authoritarian partners easier to manage than democratic societies. The rhetoric of democracy promotion has frequently coexisted with the practical support of rulers who provide security cooperation, military access, migration control, energy stability, or regional alignment. Turkey now appears to be increasingly drawn into this older geopolitical pattern: a strategically useful authoritarian partner whose domestic repression is treated as secondary to broader strategic bargaining.

The Political Economy of Repression

Authoritarian continuity also carries mounting economic costs. Every major judicial or administrative intervention against the opposition produces immediate financial repercussions. Following Ekrem İmamoğlu’s arrest in March 2025, the Turkish central bank reportedly sold roughly $50 billion in reserves and subsequently raised interest rates to 46 percent amid severe market turbulence. The EBRD similarly stated that the central bank sold more than $40 billion in foreign exchange during the weeks after İmamoğlu’s detention, reducing net reserves excluding swaps from above $60 billion to below $20 billion.

A similar pattern re-emerged following the CHP ruling. BIST 100 index fell sharply, while the Turkish lira reached a record low near 45.74 against the US dollar. Analysts warned that renewed political instability was once again undermining the currency at an already fragile moment. JPMorgan further projected that the central bank could be forced to raise interest rates from 37 percent to 40 percent in an attempt to stabilize the lira.

Inflation remains the clearest macroeconomic symptom of collapsing credibility. In April 2026, Turkey’s monthly inflation rate surged to 4.18 percent, while annual inflation reached 32.37 percent. By comparison, the OECD projects average headline inflation across the G20 at approximately 4.0 percent in 2026. Turkey’s inflation is therefore not merely above target; it stands several times higher than the broader G20 benchmark.

These cumulative distortions are also visible in Turkey’s growing decoupling from comparable emerging-market economies. Both inflation and the interest-rate premium required to sustain lira-denominated assets have risen far above emerging-market averages, making borrowing costs one of the clearest macroeconomic expressions of authoritarian-risk pricing.

Foreign direct investment also reflects the cost of institutional erosion. World Bank-based data show Turkey’s FDI net inflows at only 0.887 percent of GDP in 2024. For a G20-sized economy that claims to be a regional hub for production, logistics, energy, and finance, this is strikingly weak. Investors may still buy high-yield bonds or short-term assets, but a durable, productive investment requires legal predictability, property-rights protection, judicial neutrality, and confidence that political shocks will not suddenly destroy the investment environment

There are also signs that Turkey’s liquid external buffers have come under mounting pressure. Reporting based on US Treasury data indicated that Turkey’s holdings of US Treasury securities fell sharply in March 2026 as authorities sought to defend the lira, although such figures should be treated cautiously, since holdings are often routed through custodians and third countries.

The broader point, however, is unmistakable: political repression carries significant balance-sheet costs. It necessitates reserve sales, interest-rate hikes, credibility-restoration measures, and repeated interventions aimed at containing market panic. Turkey is therefore not experiencing a conventional emerging-market volatility cycle. It is paying a compounded authoritarian-risk premium.

Repression undermines confidence; weakened confidence places pressure on the lira; pressure on the lira forces reserve depletion or higher interest rates; elevated rates suppress growth and investment; deteriorating economic performance intensifies political anxiety; and that anxiety, in turn, generates further repression. This is the circular political economy of authoritarianism.

Conclusion: The Cost of Managed Permanence

Turkey’s crisis is no longer merely a crisis of democracy, nor solely a crisis of macroeconomic management. It has become a crisis of institutional credibility. The same political system that imprisons rivals, captures media institutions, weakens municipalities, subordinates the judiciary, and intimidates universities also generates persistent inflation, currency fragility, reserve depletion, heightened corruption risk, and declining long-term investment confidence.

The CHP ruling is therefore not simply a procedural dispute within a political party. It is a constitutional event. It signals that the regime is prepared to intervene directly in the organizational structure of the main opposition party in order to reshape the political field ahead of the next presidential contest. The intended outcome is increasingly clear: Erdoğan should not confront a united, administratively capable, and electorally confident opposition at the precise moment when his own constitutional future becomes uncertain.

The irony is that this strategy may stabilize the regime in the short term while simultaneously deepening Turkey’s long-term fragility. No country can indefinitely finance authoritarian control through reserve depletion, high interest rates, coercive legality, and transactional diplomacy. The more the regime suppresses political competition, the more costly economic stabilization becomes. The more it seeks external legitimacy, the more sovereignty it implicitly trades away. And the more it attempts to manufacture a controlled opposition, the more clearly it reveals that genuine electoral competition has become the central threat to its survival.

Turkey’s crisis, therefore, is not only about Erdoğan, the CHP, İmamoğlu, Özel, Kılıçdaroğlu, or even the 2028 election itself. It is about whether a country with a long electoral tradition will gradually be reduced to a system of formal voting without meaningful democratic alternation. The answer will depend not only on domestic resistance, but also on whether Europe and the United States continue treating Turkey’s authoritarian consolidation as an acceptable price for strategic convenience.

Dr. Amir Ali.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The BJP Now Seeks Domination from Parliament to Panchayat

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

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

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

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

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

Hindutva Now Seeks to Erase Muslim Visibility

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

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

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

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

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

Anti-Muslim Rhetoric Has Become Progressively Harsher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ‘Infiltrator’ Rhetoric Places Muslims Outside National Belonging

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

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

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

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

Indian Pluralism Is Being Replaced by National Oneness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Administrative Majoritarianism Is Reshaping Indian Democracy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hindutva Narrows What It Means to Be Hindu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Populism and Austerity Are Pushing India Toward Fascistic Politics

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aspirational Politics Has Fused with Anti-Muslim Otherization

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

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

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

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

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

Modi’s ‘People’ Excludes Muslims and Dissenters

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Opposition Is Playing with Loaded Dice

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

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

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

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

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

India Lacks the Institutional Pushback Seen Elsewhere

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

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

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

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

India Remains in the Mist and Fog of Hindutva Domination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dr. James Loxton.

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

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

Transitions Rarely Begin from a Blank Slate

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

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

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

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

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

Authoritarian Inheritance Can Outlive the Dictator

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

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

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

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

Authoritarian Memory Can Become an Electoral Resource

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

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

Democracy Does Not Always Bury the Old Regime

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

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

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

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

The Greater Danger Today Is Populist Power-Grabbing

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

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

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

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

Some Populists Turn Dictatorship into a Golden Age

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

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

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

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

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

Former Regime Elites Can Colonize the Party System

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

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

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

Young Voters Can Embrace Dictatorships They Never Experienced

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

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

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

Democracy Requires More Than Elections

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

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

Authoritarian Actors Do Not Always Need Populism

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

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

Authoritarian Branding Survives Radio, Television, and X

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

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

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

Some Regimes Combine Democracy and Dictatorship

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

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

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

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

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

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

Péter Magyar.

Long Read | Explaining Hungary’s Paradox: Péter Magyar as the Insider Challenger to a Hybrid-Authoritarian System

This commentary examines Hungary’s 2026 political rupture through the paradox of Péter Magyar: a former Fidesz insider now positioned as the possible dismantler of Orbánism. Rather than romanticizing the defeat of Viktor Orbán as automatic democratic restoration, Professor İbrahim Öztürk situates Hungary alongside the US, Brazil, and Poland to show that authoritarian-populist systems often survive electoral defeat through media ecosystems, patronage networks, institutional residues, and polarized identities. Magyar’s supermajority creates a rare “Cincinnatus moment”: he can either rebuild pluralist institutions or reproduce Orbán’s majoritarian methods under a pro-European vocabulary. The commentary argues that Hungary’s democratic opening is real but fragile, and that its future depends on institutional restraint, EU conditionality, civic vigilance, and genuine democratic reconstruction.

By İbrahim Öztürk

More Than a Change of Government

Péter Magyar’s Tisza Party ended Orbán’s sixteen-year rule in the April 12, 2026, parliamentary election and, after the final count, secured 141 of the 199 seats in Hungary’s National Assembly—comfortably above the two-thirds threshold required for constitutional change. As a result, Viktor Orbán’s regime, carefully constructed since 2010 and ideologically legitimized under the banner of “illiberal democracy,” has for the first time been seriously shaken by a figure produced within its own political architecture. Such a political rupture cannot be reduced to an ordinary electoral defeat or a conventional alternation of power.

Although Hungary is relatively small in population, economic weight, and geopolitical scale, Orbán’s era in power has become one of the most visible laboratories of authoritarian populism in Europe. Even more damaging than Hungary’s domestic democratic regression was the corrosive perception it created: Hungary is in permanent conflict with Brussels over the rule of law, media freedom, migration, Ukraine, Russia, and EU funds. In 2022, the European Parliament declared that Hungary could no longer be considered a full democracy, describing it instead as an “electoral autocracy” resulting from the government’s deliberate and systematic efforts to undermine European values. As a result, the message was that the European Union could no longer serve as a reliable democratic anchor, even for its own members.

Yet Péter Magyar’s rise should not be romanticized as a straightforward victory of democratic opposition. Tisza’s electoral landslide undoubtedly reflected accumulated fatigue with Orbánism: economic stagnation, perceptions of endemic corruption, deteriorating relations with Europe, and growing frustration with the cartel-like fusion of party, state, media, and oligarchic capital. But the bearer of this anti-Orbán moment is not a pristine liberal democrat emerging from civil society. Magyar is a product of the Fidesz world itself: someone who knows the regime’s language, networks, reflexes, vulnerabilities, and internal codes.

Hungary’s paradox lies precisely here. The first actor capable of breaking the Orbán system did not come from outside it but from within. The possibility of dismantling a hybrid-authoritarian regime has emerged not through a “clean” outsider but through an insider who understands the machinery of power because he was once close to it. This is both promising and dangerous. It is promising because authoritarian systems often fracture when insiders defect. It is dangerous because those who know how such systems work may also be tempted to reproduce their techniques under a new moral vocabulary.

For this reason, Hungary should be read not merely as a national case of regime change but as a broader laboratory for understanding the contemporary democratic crisis. As emphasized at the ECPS Fifth Annual International Symposium on “Reforming and Safeguarding Liberal Democracy: Systemic Crises, Populism, and Democratic Resilience,”  (Hereafter, ECPS Symposium), the crisis of democracy today cannot be understood through a single discipline, region, or causal factor. It is political, institutional, ideological, economic, technological, and geopolitical. The ECPS symposium report likewise frames the contemporary crisis of liberal democracy in terms of systemic pressures, populist mobilization, institutional erosion, and democratic resilience. Hungary concentrates all of these dynamics into a single case: electoral competition, media capture, judicial dependence, party-state fusion, EU conditionality, nationalist-populist discourse, and the unresolved problem of post-authoritarian reconstruction.

The Orbán Regime: From State Capture to Party-State Fusion

Former Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban.

Understanding Magyar’s challenge requires understanding the nature of the regime he inherits. Orbán’s Hungary was not a classical military dictatorship. Elections continued. Opposition parties were not formally banned. Courts existed. Parliament functioned. Civil society survived, though under pressure. Yet the substantive capacity of these institutions to promote fair competition, constrain power, protect the rule of law from political influence, and sustain pluralism was steadily weakened.

Hungary became one of the most instructive examples of contemporary authoritarianization. Elections took place, but the electoral field was tilted. Media existed, but large parts of it were controlled by government-friendly capital and state resources. Courts remained, but key appointments increasingly reflected political loyalty. Universities, foundations, media councils, prosecution offices, regulatory bodies, and constitutional institutions continued to exist formally, but their internal logic was increasingly subordinated to the party-state.

The House of Commons Library notes that Orbán held power from 2010 until 2026 and was widely criticized by domestic opponents and international bodies for moving Hungary in an authoritarian direction. It also recalls Orbán’s own 2014 declaration that his government was building an “illiberal” state and emphasizes that Fidesz’s long-standing two-thirds majority enabled far-reaching constitutional changes that repeatedly brought Hungary into conflict with the EU.

This illustrates one of the broader mechanisms highlighted at the ECPS symposium: democratic erosion does not proceed only through electoral manipulation. It advances through the transformation of political language, the weakening of judicial authority, the loss of neutrality in public institutions, the narrowing of media pluralism, and the reshaping of civic imagination. Orbánism, in this sense, was never merely a governing style. It was an attempt to reorganize the state, society, and public reason around a durable nationalist-populist order.

This architecture was also designed to survive electoral defeat. Long-term appointments in the prosecution service, constitutional court, media authorities, university foundations, public companies, and regulatory bodies created a state structure capable of resisting a new government. In such a system, winning an election does not mean automatically taking control of the state. It opens the first gate; the deeper struggle begins inside the bureaucracy, the judiciary, public finance, and media infrastructure.

Magyar’s victory is therefore not an endpoint but the beginning of a difficult transition. Orbán may have lost office, but the institutional residues of Orbánism—its economic networks, media ecology, bureaucratic habits, legal traps, and cultural reflexes—are likely to persist. The crucial question is whether Magyar will dismantle these structures or make them more usable for himself. Before focusing directly on Magyar, a comparative perspective would provide further insight into the personality, ideology, and experience of the leadership that might lead to the transformation of power. 

Comparative Lessons: Trump, Lula, Tusk, and the Difficult Art of Defeating Authoritarian Populists

Hungary can only be properly understood through comparative and historical analysis. As the ECPS Symposium emphasized, populism and democratic backsliding do not take identical forms everywhere. Yet across cases, recurring mechanisms can be identified: humiliation, polarization, institutional weakening, executive aggrandizement, cultural backlash, strategic disinformation, and the political exploitation of uncertainty. Reading Hungary alongside the United States, Brazil, and Poland helps clarify not only how authoritarian-populist incumbents can be defeated, but also why democratic restoration remains fragile after electoral victory.

In the ideal world of democratic theory, one might expect a principled, pluralistic, and untainted civil-society leader to rise against an “authoritarizing” regime. Real politics rarely works that way. Where media space has been captured, opposition actors have been criminalized, electoral rules tilted, and public resources converted into partisan instruments, a “clean” outsider may never effectively reach the electorate. The European Parliament’s 2022 finding that Hungary had become a “hybrid regime of electoral autocracy” captures precisely this kind of distorted competitive environment.

Hungary’s 2022 opposition experiment around Péter Márki-Zay is instructive in this respect. The Guardian described Márki-Zay as a conservative outsider backed by a broad opposition alliance to challenge Orbán. Yet he was rapidly damaged by Orbán’s media and propaganda apparatus. The lesson was blunt: in a captured information environment, a plausible candidate is not enough. The opposition must also find a way to penetrate the regime’s communicative architecture.

Magyar’s rise did precisely that, though not because it was the product of a carefully designed opposition strategy. It resembled an unexpected explosion from within the regime’s own crisis. His “surprise candidate” effect rested on two sources of credibility. First, insider testimony carries a distinctive political force. Corruption allegations repeated for years by Hungary’s opposition had limited impact on Fidesz voters; similar accusations voiced by a former insider produced a different kind of rupture. Second, Magyar escaped the exhaustion associated with the traditional opposition. He appeared outside its record of fragmentation, ideological baggage, and repeated failure.

This suggests a broader pattern: authoritarian-populist regimes are rarely defeated by pristine figures alone. Success often requires three conditions: a broad democratic front, a credible figure capable of puncturing the incumbent’s information monopoly, and a pragmatic promise of transition that reduces voter fear.

The US: The Return of Trump and the Failure of Liberal Restoration

Trump supporters marched toward Capitol Hill on January 6, 2021, in Washington, D.C., USA. Photo: Dreamstime / Bgrocker

The United States offers the most important first comparison because it shows that defeating an authoritarian-populist leader at the ballot box does not necessarily defeat the political formation he has created. Donald Trump lost the presidency in 2020, but Trumpism did not disappear. It survived as a mass political identity, a media ecosystem, a party-capturing force, and a movement built around resentment, grievance, distrust of institutions, and the claim that the system had been stolen by hostile elites.

The trauma of January 6, 2021, seemed at the time to mark a possible rupture. The Final Report of the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack described a sustained effort to overturn the 2020 election result and placed Trump at the center of that campaign. Yet the institutional reckoning remained incomplete. The Republican Party did not decisively break with Trump; conservative media did not abandon the stolen-election narrative; and the broader social grievances that sustained Trumpism were neither politically absorbed nor materially addressed.

This is why Trump’s return in 2024 is so analytically important. The National Archives’ official Electoral College results recorded Trump’s victory over Kamala Harris by 312 electoral votes to 226, while AP described his victory as a remarkable political comeback rooted in appeals to frustrated voters. His second inauguration as the 47th president on January 20, 2025, confirmed not merely a Republican electoral victory but the return of a populist movement that many had prematurely assumed would be exhausted after 2020.

The American case, therefore, reveals a central post-populist trap. Joe Biden’s presidency defeated Trump electorally in 2020, restored a measure of institutional normality, and defended NATO, administrative professionalism, and democratic procedure. But it did not fundamentally transform the socioeconomic, cultural, and institutional conditions that had produced Trumpism in the first place: regional decline, working-class insecurity, border anxiety, distrust of expertise, racial and cultural backlash, media fragmentation, and the perception that liberal institutions served insulated elites rather than ordinary citizens.

In this sense, Trump’s comeback was not only a personal return. It was the revenge of an unresolved political formation. The Brennan Center’s analysis of Project 2025 warned that the conservative governing blueprint associated with Trump’s return aimed at a major expansion of executive power. The Carnegie Endowment’s comparative analysis of US democratic backsliding similarly situates the second Trump presidency within a wider global pattern of democratic erosion, comparing developments in the United States with cases such as Hungary, India, Poland, and Turkey.

Trump’s comeback shows that authoritarian populism is not merely a government; it is an ecosystem. It can survive defeat through party capture, alternative media, loyal courts, donor networks, grievance politics, and a disciplined narrative of betrayal. Unless the post-populist government delivers visible reform and democratic renewal, the defeated populist can return as the voice of unfinished revenge.

The American case also sharpens the central dilemma of reform. If democratic successors move too cautiously, they appear weak and irrelevant. If they move too aggressively, they may be accused of weaponizing institutions and confirming the populist claim of elite persecution. Biden’s difficulty was precisely this: restoring procedural normality was not enough to rebuild democratic confidence. Voters who experience insecurity, disorder, or decline do not reward the process alone. They demand protection, direction, and visible change.

Brazil: Lula’s Broad Coalition and the Survival of Bolsonarism

Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva walks among supporters on Augusta Street at São Paulo on the eve of the brazillian election on October 1, 2022. Photo: Yuri Murakami.

Brazil’s 2022 election offers a second powerful comparison. Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva was not a new or immaculate candidate. He was a former two-term president, a deeply polarizing figure, and someone who had been imprisoned on corruption charges later annulled on procedural and judicial impartiality grounds. Yet he proved to be the most effective candidate against Jair Bolsonaro, a radical right-wing populist who attacked institutions, questioned the electoral system, and polarized society. AP described Lula’s victory as an extremely tight election that marked an about-face after four years of far-right politics.

Lula’s success rested on strategic coalition-building rather than ideological purity. By choosing Geraldo Alckmin, a former center-right rival, as his running mate, he reassured markets, moderates, conservative voters, and institutional actors. The contest was thereby reframed not as a conventional left-right struggle, but as a choice between Bolsonaro’s destabilizing authoritarian populism and democratic normalization.

Lula also benefited from powerful social memory. For millions of poorer voters, workers, trade unionists, northeastern Brazilians, and beneficiaries of earlier social programs, he was associated not merely with ideology but with concrete improvements in living standards. Just as importantly, Brazil’s electoral institutions held firm against Bolsonaro’s efforts to delegitimize the result. Bolsonaro delayed full acceptance, but the institutional outcome held; The Guardian reported that Bolsonaro broke his silence without conceding, while his chief of staff indicated that the transition process would begin.

As I argued in an earlier article, Lula’s return should not be read merely as the return of the left. It represented a broad coalition for democratic normalization: workers, poorer voters, environmental constituencies, institutional actors, moderates, and democracy-minded conservatives converging around a minimum democratic agenda. In a former commentary at the ECPS, I further argued that the decisive question in confronting authoritarian populists is not simply whether the incumbent has produced economic crisis, corruption, or institutional decay. It is whether the opposition can construct a credible, governable, and inclusive alternative in the eyes of voters.

The lesson for Hungary is clear. Authoritarian-populist regimes are not always defeated by flawless candidates. Sometimes they are defeated by figures who can reassure broad social blocs, understand how the state works, and pierce the regime’s information monopoly. Lula did this through historical legitimacy and social memory. Magyar has done it through insider credibility. Yet the difference is equally important: Lula was the carrier of a long political movement, party tradition, and social program; Magyar still leads a movement largely organized around his person, with limited ideological and institutional depth.

Lula’s example, therefore, offers both hope and a warning. It shows that authoritarian populists can be defeated at the ballot box and that broad democratic fronts still matter. But it also shows that defeating authoritarian populism does not automatically eliminate its social base, media networks, economic interests, or institutional residues. Bolsonaro lost, but Bolsonarism survived. AP’s report on Brazil’s Congress overriding Lula’s veto of a bill reducing Bolsonaro’s coup-related sentence demonstrates the Bolsonaro camp’s continuing institutional and political resilience.

Poland: Democratic Restoration in a Minefield

President-elect Karol Nawrocki campaigning ahead of Poland’s 2025 presidential election in Łódź, Poland, on April 27, 2024. Photo: Tomasz Warszewski.

Poland offers a third instructive case, but it should not be read as a simple story of populist defeat followed by democratic restoration. The last five years reveal a more uneven trajectory: PiS retained the presidency in 2020, lost its ability to govern in 2023, continued to shape the reform environment through institutional legacies, and regained strategic leverage through the 2025 presidential election.

The starting point matters. Poland’s presidential archive records that Andrzej Duda was re-elected in 2020 with 51.03 percent of the vote, keeping the presidency in the hands of a PiS-aligned figure and preserving a powerful veto point inside the Polish political system. This mattered greatly after the 2023 parliamentary election. Although PiS won the largest share of the vote, Freedom House notes that it secured only 194 Sejm seats, while Civic Coalition, Third Way, and The Left won a combined 248 seats and formed a governing majority. Freedom House also emphasizes that turnout reached 74.3 percent, the highest since 1989, signaling not only anti-PiS mobilization but also a powerful democratic re-engagement by Polish society.

Donald Tusk’s return to power in December 2023, therefore, ended eight years of PiS-led nationalist-populist rule, but it did not amount to a clean institutional break. Tusk was not a new civil-society outsider; he was a former prime minister and former president of the European Council. His strength lay not in novelty but in governability, experience, international credibility, and coalition-building.

The Polish case shows that opposition forces do not always need to merge into a single ideological bloc. Tusk’s Civic Coalition, Third Way, and The Left preserved distinct identities while mobilizing different constituencies: urban liberals, moderate conservatives, agrarian centrists, young voters, women, and citizens concerned with the rule of law. This flexible democratic majority proved more effective than forced ideological homogenization. For Hungary, this is a crucial point: defeating authoritarian populism may require not a single purified opposition identity, but a broad, strategically plural coalition capable of reassuring different social blocs.

Yet Poland also reveals the fragility of democratic restoration after victory. Tusk’s government moved quickly to repair relations with the EU. The European Commission’s February 2024 decision paved the way for Poland to access up to €137 billion in EU funding, citing rule-of-law reforms and immediate steps toward strengthening judicial independence. But the domestic process of institutional repair proved far more difficult. President Duda, still aligned with PiS, remained able to block key reforms and frustrate the government’s efforts to reverse the institutional legacy of the previous era.

The public media crisis illustrated the dilemma sharply. Tusk’s government argued that it was restoring impartiality after years of PiS control over state media. Critics, however, claimed that the government was stretching legal procedures. AP reported that Duda vetoed a spending bill that included 3 billion zlotys for public media, turning media reform into an early constitutional and political confrontation. Poland thus became a real-time laboratory of the central post-populist dilemma: how can a new democratic government undo politicized institutions without itself appearing to politicize them further?

The 2025 presidential election then exposed the limits of Tusk’s restoration project. Le Monde reported that Karol Nawrocki, backed by PiS, narrowly defeated Tusk’s ally Rafał Trzaskowski by 50.89 percent to 49.11 percent. This did not remove Tusk from government, but it weakened his coalition politically and gave the populist right a renewed institutional platform. AP’s  assessment of Nawrocki’s victory underlined that Tusk’s multiparty coalition now faced serious questions about its capacity to survive and pursue reform under a president with veto power. In the Financial Times, Jarosław Kuisz similarly argued that Nawrocki’s win reflected not only PiS’s resilience but also Tusk’s own errors, poor management of expectations, and the danger of liberal complacency after electoral victory.

Poland, therefore, offers Hungary both encouragement and warning. It shows that nationalist-populist governments can be removed from office despite media bias, state resources, polarization, and institutional asymmetry. But it also shows that electoral victory does not dissolve the old regime’s social base, cultural influence, presidential veto points, or judicial and media legacies. Democratic restoration survives only if it produces tangible results, preserves public trust, and neutralizes the populist claim that “nothing has changed.”

For Hungary, the comparison is sobering. If Magyar wins the state but fails to deliver visible institutional and social repair, Fidesz may retain or rebuild its political force from outside government, much as PiS did after 2023. Conversely, if Magyar moves too aggressively against captured institutions, he may reproduce the very majoritarian logic he claims to overcome. Poland’s last five years, therefore, sharpen the central lesson of this article: defeating authoritarian populism is only the first stage; the harder task is governing the transition without either paralysis or overreach.

Europe’s Wider Crisis of Liberal-Democratic Governability

Row of EU Flags in front of the European Union Commission building in Brussels. Photo: VanderWolf Images.

This problem is not confined to countries emerging directly from authoritarian-populist rule. The faltering performance of Emmanuel Macron’s Renaissance-led centrist presidency in France, Keir Starmer’s Labor government in the United Kingdom, and Friedrich Merz’s CDU/CSU–SPD grand coalition in Germany suggests that Europe faces a broader crisis of liberal-democratic governability. In Britain, YouGov’s April 2026 voting-intention poll showed Reform UK leading on 26 percent, ahead of both Conservatives and Labor. In Germany, PolitPro’s poll trend showed the AfD ahead of the CDU/CSU in early May 2026. In France, The Guardian’s assessment of the 2027 race framed the crowded anti–National Rally field as a potential gift to Jordan Bardella and the far right.

The difficulty is no longer simply that authoritarian-populist actors are hard to defeat, or that their institutional legacies are hard to dismantle once defeated. The deeper problem is that liberal-centrist governments, even when they reach office, often fail to address the underlying structures that generate resentment: stagnant living standards, insecure work, housing shortages, deindustrialization, bureaucratic sclerosis, regional abandonment, elite insulation, and the perception that public authority no longer protects ordinary citizens. The Draghi report on European competitiveness makes a related structural point: Europe faces slowing productivity, demographic challenges, rising energy costs, global competition, and the need for unprecedented investment, yet EU decision-making remains slow, fragmented, and difficult to coordinate at scale.

They promise competent management after populist chaos, but competence without transformation quickly becomes another name for managed decline. This is why defeated or marginalized populists often regain momentum: they can present liberal restoration as the return of the same establishment that produced the crisis in the first place. In this sense, the post-populist trap is circular. Populists are difficult to defeat; their legacies are difficult to undo; and when their successors fail to deliver visible reform, they help rebuild the emotional and political conditions for the next populist surge.

These Cases Suggest Three Lessons for Hungary

First, authoritarian-populist regimes are often defeated not by morally pure outsiders but by pragmatic figures capable of building broad alliances. Trump’s return shows what happens when a defeated populist movement is not structurally dislodged; Lula shows how broad democratic normalization can defeat an incumbent populist; Tusk shows the value and limits of experienced coalition-building; and Magyar represents the risky but potentially effective figure of the regime insider turned challenger. Their legitimacy does not derive from purity, but from their ability to connect with constituencies that traditional opposition forces could not reach.

Second, electoral victory requires breaking information blockades. Lula did so through social memory and organized constituencies; Tusk through the mobilization of plural opposition; and Magyar through the credibility of insider defection. Trump’s return, however, shows the reverse side of the same lesson: if the populist media ecosystem and grievance machine remain intact after defeat, they can convert loss into martyrdom and return to power with even greater determination.

Third, the defeat of an authoritarian-populist leader is not the end of authoritarian-populist politics. Trump lost in 2020 but returned in 2024. Bolsonaro lost, but Bolsonarism survived. PiS left the government but remained institutionally and socially powerful. Hungary is likely to face a similar pattern: Orbán’s defeat will not automatically dissolve Orbánism.

The synthesis is therefore sobering. Democratic breakthroughs in hybrid regimes often emerge from morally ambiguous conditions: insider defections, imperfect candidates, broad but uneasy coalitions, and pragmatic compromises. These are not defects of democratic transition; they are often its real-world preconditions. But they also explain why transition moments are so unstable. The very actors capable of defeating an authoritarian-populist regime may lack the ideological clarity, institutional depth, or self-limiting discipline needed to rebuild democracy.

This comparative frame helps assess Magyar more realistically. His lack of purity does not doom him. On the contrary, his insider background may have enabled him to break Fidesz’s information monopoly in a way Hungary’s traditional opposition could not. But the same background makes skepticism legitimate. The democratic meaning of his victory will not be determined by the fact that Orbán lost, nor by Magyar’s current pro-European language. It will be determined by what follows: whether he dismantles authoritarian infrastructures or repurposes them; whether he builds institutions or concentrates authority; whether he transforms anti-Orbán momentum into democratic pluralism or into a new form of leader-centered politics.

In that sense, the comparative lesson is clear: elections can open the door to democratic renewal, but they do not walk through it on their own. The decisive struggle begins after victory, when the new leadership must choose between restoration and replacement, between institutionalization and personalization, between dismantling authoritarianism and inheriting its tools.

Magyar’s ‘Cincinnatus Moment’: Three Possible Paths After Orbán

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

Péter Magyar’s premiership begins with a classical democratic dilemma: can a leader who receives extraordinary power to rescue damaged institutions later restrain himself and return authority to those very institutions? This is the Cincinnatus question. In the Roman republican myth, Cincinnatus accepts emergency authority to save the republic but relinquishes it once the crisis is over. The moral force of the story lies not in the acquisition of power, but in the discipline to give it up.

Magyar now faces a comparable test. Tisza’s parliamentary supermajority gives him the capacity to reverse key Orbán-era legal arrangements, pursue anti-corruption measures, and redesign Hungary’s constitutional order. After the final count, Tisza secured 141 of the 199 parliamentary seats, giving Magyar a two-thirds majority capable of effecting constitutional change. Yet the same majority could become a vehicle for new majoritarian dominance if used without restraint. The central question, therefore, is not simply whether Magyar can defeat Orbánism, but whether he can dismantle it without reproducing its political logic.

This question is sharpened by Magyar’s origins. He is not an idealistic liberal democrat who emerged from outside Orbán’s system. He came from the center, not the margins, of the Fidesz universe. His former marriage to Judit Varga, Orbán’s former justice minister, his connections to governing elites, and his proximity to state-linked positions place him in a different category from Hungary’s traditional opposition figures. Magyar has been characterized as a figure once inspired by Orbán who broke with the ruling bloc after the 2024 pardon scandal and rapidly became the leader of the pro-European, center-right Tisza movement.

That scandal was the decisive rupture. The 2024 presidential pardon controversy involving a child-abuse cover-up forced President Katalin Novák’s resignation and ended Varga’s frontline political career. The Guardian described Novák’s resignation as an unusual and serious setback for Orbán’s ruling party. The episode pierced Fidesz’s moral armor: a political project that had long justified itself through the language of family, Christianity, national protection, and conservative values suddenly appeared hypocritical even to parts of its own milieu. It also gave Magyar the opening to convert insider knowledge into political rupture.

A past inside the ruling bloc does not automatically disqualify a politician from contributing to democratic transformation. Many regime transitions begin when elites within the regime defect, split, or turn against one another. Internal rupture is often the beginning of authoritarian collapse. Yet Magyar’s trajectory still requires caution. His break appears to have been driven less by a long-standing ideological conversion to liberal democracy than by Fidesz’s handling of its own crisis, especially the political sacrifice of Varga. Put differently, Magyar did not leave when the system functioned smoothly for him; he left when its costs reached his own inner circle.

This does not make him illegitimate. It does, however, clarify the risk. Personal grievance, whistleblowing, and revenge can destabilize authoritarian power in the short run. They cannot, by themselves, supply the patience, restraint, institutional imagination, and legal discipline required for democratic reconstruction.

Magyar’s strength and weakness are therefore inseparable: he understands the Orbán system from within. He knows its corruption networks, propaganda techniques, loyalty chains, legal engineering, and bureaucratic traps. This knowledge allowed him to make visible what Hungary’s traditional opposition had long diagnosed but struggled to communicate persuasively. Yet it also raises the transition’s most important second-order question: will Magyar dismantle the machinery of Orbánism, or merely redirect it toward new ends?

The ideological thinness of Tisza makes this question more urgent. Magyar’s current rhetoric centers on European standards, transparency, judicial independence, media freedom, anti-corruption, and the rule of law. A recent Al Jazeera report shows that he vowed to overhaul state media and urged the pro-Orbán president to resign, while Euronews reported that he promised to join the European Public Prosecutor’s Office to investigate the misuse of EU funds. These commitments are essential to Hungary’s democratic renewal. The harder question is whether they are deeply internalized principles or simply the most effective instruments for defeating Orbánism.

Democratic language does not always produce democratic character. As the Turkish case under Recep Tayyip Erdoğan illustrates, movements that rise against old authoritarian or oligarchic orders may deploy democracy as a language of transition, only to build their own centralized power structures once in office. When charismatic leadership, weak party institutionalization, and a “mission to dismantle the system” converge, democratic restoration can slide into a new personalist regime.

Tisza’s rapid ascent deepens this danger. The party gathered anti-Orbán energy with extraordinary speed, but it remains ideologically and institutionally shallow. A block from the LSE’s Zsófia Barta and Jan Rovny argue that Tisza’s victory opens a historic opportunity while leaving major questions about how the party will govern after such a rapid rise. Magyar’s political image can be read as a promise of a “corruption-free Fidesz,” a cleaner center-right alternative, or a pro-European Hungarian nationalism. That may be enough to defeat Orbánism electorally; it is not enough to reconstruct democracy.

Hungary needs more than a change of rulers. It requires the separation of state from ruling party, media from political capital, courts from partisan loyalty, public procurement from oligarchic networks, and national identity from executive domination. The European Parliament’s 2022 assessment that Hungary had become a “hybrid regime of electoral autocracy” points to the depth of institutional distortion Magyar must now confront.

The danger is that institutional repair may require pressure on institutions already hollowed out by partisan capture. A post-Orbán government cannot simply leave Fidesz-era appointees untouched if they are positioned to obstruct reform from day one. Yet if it intervenes too aggressively, democratic restoration may begin to resemble a political purge. Le Monde reported that Magyar said his government would legislate to remove President Tamás Sulyok if he did not resign—an episode that captures the tension between institutional repair and institutional pressure. The task is not merely to act decisively, but to transform emergency authority into durable constitutional restraint.

Three broad paths now stand before Magyar.

The first is democratic restoration. On this path, Magyar uses his supermajority to rebuild the rule of law, restore judicial independence, pluralize the media, make public procurement transparent, dismantle oligarchic networks, and redesign the constitutional order along pluralist lines. He investigates the abuses of the old regime without turning accountability into revenge. Most importantly, he transfers political energy away from his own leadership and into institutions capable of constraining future governments, including his own. In this scenario, Magyar becomes a transitional leader rather than a new founding father. The Center for European Reform describes Orbán’s departure as a unique but time-limited opportunity to restore democracy and strengthen Europe, capturing both the promise and urgency of this path.

The second is controlled center-right normalization. Here, the crudest forms of Orbán-era corruption and propaganda are reduced; relations with the EU improve; some frozen funds are released; economic management becomes more predictable; and Hungary moves away from open confrontation with Brussels. Yet the deeper structures of centralized power remain largely intact. The media becomes less brutal but not genuinely pluralistic; public procurement becomes less scandalous but not fully transparent; courts become less openly politicized but not truly independent. Hungary exits hard Orbánism without achieving deep democratization. Magyar’s talks with Ursula von der Leyen over frozen EU funds illustrate both the opportunity and risk of this scenario: EU relations may normalize quickly while domestic transformation remains shallower than the rhetoric suggests.

The third is a new leader-centered regime. In this scenario, Magyar begins by promising to dismantle Orbánism but gradually recentralizes authority around himself. Fidesz loyalists are replaced by Tisza loyalists. Media pluralism gives way to a new communication apparatus. Judicial independence is invoked rhetorically while new forms of political influence emerge. Anti-corruption becomes selective. The language changes from illiberal nationalism to Europeanized renewal, but the political technology remains familiar: personalization of power, control over institutions, and the fusion of national destiny with the leader’s project. The Guardian’s report on Orbán-linked wealth networks shows why dismantling the old order will require confronting entrenched economic power; the danger is that such confrontation becomes selective redistribution rather than genuine institutional cleansing.

It is too early to know which path Magyar will follow. His promises are encouraging, and Hungary now has a rare opportunity to reverse democratic decline. Yet his past, personal style, ideological ambiguity, and Tisza’s institutional thinness demand caution. The real test is not whether Magyar speaks the language of Europe, transparency, and the rule of law. The test is whether he can build institutions strong enough to limit himself.

As the ECPS Symposium states, democratic erosion is not destiny, but democratic resilience is neither automatic nor linear. It survives in institutions that resist capture, civil societies that continue to mobilize, scholarship that clarifies rather than obscures, and public debate that refuses fear, simplification, and authoritarian temptation.

Magyar’s Cincinnatus moment has therefore arrived. The question is not whether he can use power to defeat the remnants of Orbánism. The question is whether; after using that power, he will have the discipline to limit it.

Lessons for Europe: Institutions, Not Personalities

Hungary - EU
Flags of Hungary and the European Union displayed together in Budapest. Hungary has been an EU member since 2004. Photo: Jerome Cid / Dreamstime

Magyar’s victory creates a major opportunity for the European Union. Orbán’s government had spent years in conflict with Brussels over the rule of law, media freedom, migration, Ukraine, Russia, and EU funds. Magyar’s post-election talks with European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen focused on the release of frozen EU funds, including recovery funds blocked over rule-of-law concerns. Magyar described the talks as constructive, while the Commission emphasized anti-corruption and rule-of-law measures.

But the EU must be careful. If Brussels rushes to declare that “Hungary has returned to democracy,” it will repeat an old mistake: personalizing democratization and losing leverage over institutional reform. The EU’s priority should not be Magyar as a personality but Hungary as a constitutional order. Pro-European rhetoric should not be enough. The release of funds should remain tied to concrete, measurable, reversible reforms: judicial independence, public procurement transparency, anti-corruption enforcement, media pluralism, and institutional accountability.

This approach reflects a broader lesson from the ECPS symposium: in difficult times, serious scholarship and public debate are not luxuries; they are components of democratic defense. Europe’s engagement with Hungary should be grounded not in sympathy, geopolitical relief, or the emotional satisfaction of Orbán’s defeat, but in institutional verification. Otherwise, the language of “return to democracy” may become another illusion, substituting rhetoric for reform.

Hungary’s democratization will not be completed by Orbán’s defeat. The real question is how much of Orbán’s system can be dismantled and what kind of constitutional architecture replaces it. Europe’s approach to Magyar should therefore be neither romantic embrace nor cynical distance. The right posture is conditional support and institutional scrutiny.

Conclusion

Hungary’s historical threshold lies between the ideal and the possible. Péter Magyar is not a Scandinavian-style institutional democrat: calm, ideologically coherent, and unburdened by proximity to the old order. He is better understood as a pragmatic, charismatic, partly populist transition figure who knows the authoritarian system from the inside and can use its vulnerabilities against it.

This does not diminish his significance. But it makes his sanctification dangerous. Magyar is an opportunity, not a guarantee. He may accelerate the collapse of the Orbán system; he may not become the architect of liberal-democratic reconstruction. Hungary’s real test did not end on election night. It began there. The ballot box has weakened an authoritarian regime, but power networks, media monopolies, oligarchic interests, and judicial-bureaucratic linkages remain entrenched. Magyar’s historical role will be judged by whether he dismantles these structures and limits his own power.

If he uses his two-thirds majority not for a new majoritarian domination but to distribute power, autonomize institutions, and place law above politics, Hungary may enter a genuinely new democratic phase. If he reproduces Orbán’s methods under a different moral justification, Hungary’s story will become not democratic restoration but elite replacement.

Hungary, therefore, reveals both the fragility and the possibility of democratic politics. As argued in the closing reflections of the ECPS Fifth Annual International Symposium, democratic erosion is not destiny, but democratic resilience becomes durable only when institutions, civil society, critical scholarship, and public debate work together. Magyar’s historical test lies here: will he transform anti-Orbán momentum into a personal power project, or into a pluralist, accountable, institutionalized democratic order?

This is why Hungary’s hope is also its danger. The insider who can break an authoritarian system may also reproduce its reflexes in a new form. The central question for Europe, Hungarian society, and Magyar himself is therefore this: will this victory mark the end of Orbánism, or the birth of a more refined, more acceptable post-Orbán version of it?

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

Assoc. Prof. Krekó: Orbán’s Centralized Media and Propaganda Machine Faces a Striking Collapse, Opening New Possibilities for Democratic Renewal

Hungary’s democratic transition after Viktor Orbán may begin where his regime was once strongest: the centralized media and propaganda machine that sustained sixteen years of illiberal rule. In this ECPS interview, Assoc. Prof. Péter Krekó argues that Orbán’s highly professional disinformation apparatus has suffered a striking collapse, opening new possibilities for democratic renewal, media pluralism, and a more critical public sphere. At the same time, he warns that concentrated political power, polarization, and the dangers of re-autocratization remain serious challenges. Drawing on his expertise in political psychology, populism, and informational autocracy, Assoc. Prof. Krekó examines Hungary’s transformation within broader debates on post-truth politics, democratic resilience, and authoritarian adaptation—asking whether Hungary can evolve from a model of illiberalism into a model of democratic recovery.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

The collapse of Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz government after sixteen years in power has shaken one of Europe’s most influential illiberal regimes and raised a defining question: can Hungary’s democratic renewal begin where Orbán’s system was strongest—its centralized media and propaganda machine? For more than a decade, Hungary served as a laboratory of democratic backsliding, populist governance, and state-sponsored informational manipulation. Yet, as Assoc. Prof. Péter Krekó argues in this ECPS interview, Orbán’s once highly professional disinformation apparatus has suffered a striking failure, losing its capacity to shape public opinion as effectively as before.

Assoc. Prof. Krekó—Associate Professor at Eötvös Loránd University, Director of the Political Capital Institute, and Senior Budapest Open Society Fellow at the CEU Institute for Advanced Study—examines how this collapse opens new possibilities for pluralism, democratic reconstruction, and a more critical public sphere. At the same time, he warns that democratic renewal is not guaranteed. Concentrated power, one-sided tribalism, and the risk of re-autocratization remain serious dangers.

Drawing on his interdisciplinary expertise as both a political scientist and social psychologist, Assoc. Prof. Krekó situates Hungary’s transformation within broader debates on populism, post-truth politics, democratic resilience, and authoritarian adaptation. He argues that Orbán’s system relied not primarily on overt repression, but on the creation of what became “the most centralized and politicized media environment in the entire European Union,” where hundreds of media outlets operated within a politically controlled ecosystem reproducing state-sponsored narratives, fear campaigns, and disinformation.

Yet despite these highly asymmetrical conditions, the Orbán regime’s informational dominance appears to have reached its limits. As Assoc. Prof. Krekó explains, the very machinery that once enabled Fidesz to consolidate power ultimately failed to maintain public trust and political legitimacy. The interview therefore examines not only the weakening of Orbán’s media empire, but also the broader unraveling of the patronage networks, ideological loyalties, and communicative structures that sustained Hungary’s illiberal order for more than a decade.

At the same time, Assoc. Prof. Krekó repeatedly cautions against simplistic narratives of democratic restoration. While Orbán’s centralized propaganda system may be collapsing, the institutional and psychological legacies of illiberalism remain deeply embedded within Hungarian political culture. The conversation explores the persistence of conspiracy narratives, anti-immigration attitudes, and pro-Russian disinformation, as well as the dangers that can emerge when overwhelming electoral legitimacy becomes concentrated in the hands of a new political force.

Importantly, the interview also highlights the possibility that Hungary could evolve from a model of informational autocracy into a model of democratic recovery. Assoc. Prof. Krekó reflects on the prospects for rebuilding media pluralism, depolarizing public discourse, strengthening democratic norms, and resisting the temptation to reproduce the very forms of centralized power that characterized Orbánism.

Ultimately, this conversation presents Hungary not merely as a case of authoritarian decline, but as a crucial test case for understanding whether democracies damaged by prolonged informational manipulation can successfully reconstruct pluralistic political life. Whether Hungary becomes a model for democratic renewal—or drifts toward new forms of hybrid governance—remains uncertain. But as Assoc. Prof. Krekó suggests throughout this interview, the striking collapse of Orbán’s centralized media and propaganda machine has opened political possibilities that only a few years ago appeared unimaginable.

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

Orbán’s Informational Autocracy Meets Its Limits

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dismantling Informational Autocracy Requires More Than Victory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orbán’s Networks Are Collapsing Before Our Eyes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can Hungary Unlearn Illiberalism?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hungary’s Post-Truth Legacy Will Not Disappear Overnight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pre-bunking as a Democratic Defense

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Risk of Reproducing Elite Privilege

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Loss of a Role Model for the International Far Right

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Danger of One-Sided Tribalism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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