In this timely and powerful Voice of Youth (VoY) essay, Emmanouela Papapavlou reframes migration not as a crisis or threat, but as a defining human reality of the twenty-first century. Moving beyond populist slogans and fear-based rhetoric, the piece exposes the gap between political discourse and the lived experiences of migrants—marked by legal precarity, exclusion, and everyday vulnerability. It critically interrogates the selective use of “legality” in public debates and highlights how populism redirects anger away from power and toward the powerless. Importantly, the article identifies Generation Z as a potential counterforce, emphasizing its everyday engagement with diversity and its rejection of xenophobic narratives. Published on the occasion of International Migrants Day, the essay is a compelling call to restore dignity, humanity, and ethical responsibility to migration politics.
By Emmanouela Papapavlou*
In an age of global instability, migration is not an exception and not some marginal social phenomenon, it is a defining feature of the modern world. Wars, political persecution, economic collapse, environmental disasters and inequality push millions to leave their homes in search of safety, opportunity, and a sense of dignity. Within this reality, the 18th of December, International Migrants Day, is not just another “awareness day,” it is a powerful reminder that migration is one of the most central human experiences of the twenty-first century, and that the way we talk about it in public spaces has real consequences on real lives.
Despite its profoundly human dimension, migration has become one of the most polarized subjects in global politics. Populist rhetoric, flourishing across Europe, the United States, and beyond, finds in the “migrant” the perfect target, an “other” onto whom fears, insecurities, and imagined threats can be projected. Migrants are framed as a faceless mass, as an economic burden, as a cultural threat, or even as enemies of national security. Yet the reality of migration is dramatically different from these oversimplified narratives.
For millions, migration is not a choice, it is a necessity. And for those who manage to reach countries of arrival, the journey does not end, it begins. Access to legal documents, endless visa backlogs, the slow and often arbitrary asylum process, and the requirements for work authorization create a system that is frequently insurmountable. In the United States, for example, hundreds of thousands of people live for years without papers, not because they refuse to comply, but because the system is designed to delay, discourage, and exclude. Even proving that you qualify for asylum often requires documents that no one could possibly rescue while fleeing a bombed home or a collapsing life.
While political discourse focuses obsessively on “flows” and “invasions,” what almost never gets discussed is the actual everyday reality of migrants, the labor exploitation, the lack of access to healthcare or education, the constant uncertainty of “will I be allowed to stay tomorrow,” the threat of deportation, the social stigma, the ghettoization, the absence of meaningful integration. Many states treat migration as a problem that must be “controlled,” not as a social fact that must be understood, integrated, and addressed with humanity.
International Migrants Day exists precisely because of this gap, the gap between rhetoric and reality, between what is said and what people live. It is a day dedicated to rights and dignity, to the fundamental right to move and to the right to live without fear. It is also a reminder that societies do not show their humanity in how they treat the powerful, but in how they treat the vulnerable.
Here we see another dimension of populism, the selective invocation of “legality.” Public debate suddenly fills with people who appear deeply committed to the rule of law when the conversation turns to migrants. “They came illegally,” they say, as if respect for the law were a consistent personal value and not something invoked only when convenient. Because the same people who express moral outrage at a refugee are often the same people who consider underage drinking normal, who speed on the highway, who drive under the influence, who use recreational substances, who pirate movies, music, and games without a second thought. In those cases, the law becomes a “technicality,” and strictness evaporates.
Yet when the “offender” is someone who ran from war, when it is a mother holding a child in a boat, when it is a young person who left everything behind just to survive, then suddenly the law becomes absolute and unforgiving. And even worse, we almost never see the same outrage when the offenders are powerful, corrupt politicians who steal public funds, evade taxes, exploit systems for personal gain, or embezzle compensations. In those situations, anger disappears. Outrage fades. “Illegality” becomes almost invisible.
This contradiction has nothing to do with the law. It has everything to do with control, with fear, and with the political function of populism, which is to divert collective anger away from those who cause injustice, and direct it instead toward those who are least able to defend themselves.
Yet within this landscape, there is a source of hope, and it comes from Generation Z. Gen Z is the first generation in history to grow up fully online, exposed every day to the lives of people across the world, from every background and every context. Diversity is not perceived as a threat; it is an intrinsic part of reality. For this generation, multiculturalism is not an ideological position, it is the texture of daily life in schools, universities, neighborhoods, and digital spaces.
Young people do not see migrants as outsiders, they are classmates, friends, coworkers, neighbors. They are the stories shared on social media, the voices heard without intermediaries, the people facing the same universal anxieties, work, education, safety, rights. Take the example of someone like Zohran Mamdani, who arrived in the United States as a child refugee and eventually became an elected representative in New York. His story is not an exception, it is a sign of a new era in which identity is shaped not by where you were born, but by who you are and what you contribute to your community.
What becomes clear is that Gen Z, through everyday contact with diverse cultures and people, rejects fear based rhetoric. They are not easily persuaded by politicians who weaponize xenophobia, and they do not accept narratives of “threat” without question. They see migration as a human reality, not as a tool for propaganda. And this generational shift carries enormous political weight for the future.
If we truly want to honor International Migrants Day, it is not enough to acknowledge its existence. We must promote policies that allow for safe, legal, and humane migration, support integration programs that go beyond survival and lead to participation and dignity, reform asylum and legalization systems so they do not trap people in bureaucratic limbo, and build societies that recognize diversity not as a danger but as a collective strength.
Because at the end of the day, the question we must ask is simple, and its simplicity is what makes it so revealing: How can a human being be considered “illegal” on an earth we were all born into? How can anyone be treated as worthless simply because they were born a few kilometers away?
If we cannot answer that clearly, then perhaps International Migrants Day exists to remind us that before borders, politics, and identities, we are, above all, human.
(*)Emmanouela Papapavlou is a high school student from Thessaloniki, Greece, deeply passionate about social and political issues. She has actively participated in Model United Nations and other youth forums, serving as a chairperson in multiple conferences and winning awards in Greek debate competitions. Writing is her greatest passion, and she loves using it to explore democracy, civic engagement, and human rights. Her dream is to share her ideas, inspire action, and amplify the voices of young people who want to make a difference. Email: emmanpapapavlou@gmail.com
In this incisive analysis, political scientist Professor Cengiz Aktar examines Ankara’s latest initiative toward the Kurds, arguing that what has been presented as a peace process is instead a populist performance of reconciliation. Professor Aktar shows how Turkey’s government frames “brotherhood,” “national unity,” and “terror-free Turkey” as harmonious goals, even though such populist language masks structural inequalities and omits democratic guarantees for Kurdish identity. With Abdullah Öcalan’s call for dissolution of the PKK left unreciprocated, and no mechanisms for Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR), truth-seeking, or legal reform, Professor Aktar warns that the process risks being symbolic rather than transformative. He suggests that populism here functions not as conflict resolution, but as political containment — strengthening autocratic power while offering no durable settlement.
Turkey’s long-running conflicts with its ethnic and/or religious groups have been on the permanent agenda for more than a century. Various attempts by successive rulers to suppress or resolve these conflicts have drawn the attention of Turkey watchers and international public opinion throughout this period.
Interestingly, the latest initiative by the Ankara regime toward the Kurds—although seemingly ground-breaking at first glance—has largely gone unnoticed by global media outlets, and even more so by the wider public abroad. Only Western governments have, rather unenthusiastically, welcomed the developments.
Why such a lack of interest? Most likely because there is no serious or lasting peace perspective visible at the end of the process.
The genocide in Gaza, Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, and the massacres and famine in Sudan are now almost entirely dominating the headlines. Nevertheless, a genuine “Kurdish peace” would normally contain—at least partially—the seeds of region-wide normalization. Yet no one seems to detect such a dynamic in Ankara’s initiative, and rightly so.
Let us briefly recall the background.
Since the surprise launch of the so-called “process” on October 1, 2024, a highly unusual modus operandi has been underway to address this decades-old military conflict.
First, contrary to well-established conflict-resolution practices, the parties involved are not on equal footing. The Kurdish leader remains in prison and is not free in his movements or actions. That asymmetry alone speaks volumes about the genuineness of the process.
Since his capture and imprisonment twenty-five years ago, Ankara has approached Abdullah Öcalan three times with the same objective: to pressure him to end the armed struggle and push for the PKK’s dissolution. This time, it appears to have worked.
Indeed, on February 27, Öcalan declared that the rebel group had “completed its life cycle” and called for its dissolution, potentially signaling the end of a decades-long conflict that claimed at least 50,000 lives—around 40,000 of them Kurdish.
His “Call for Peace and a Democratic Society” was broadcast to the public at a hotel in Istanbul. In return, the plea for “legal and political regulations for dissolution and disarmament,” which was not included in the written call, was later added verbally.
Compared to the previous “peace” initiative of 2013, there is a clear regression. At that time, Öcalan linked the resolution of the Kurdish issue to the PKK’s demobilization, while proposing a broader, holistic framework. Today, there is no longer any connection between the dismantlement of the PKK and a lasting political solution to the Kurdish question. Öcalan’s major unilateral concession thus clearly signals that the entire scenario is being crafted by the authorities.
Second, in line with this fundamental imbalance, the scenario assumes that the Kurdish issue will be resolved within a vague framework of “national solidarity, brotherhood, and democracy,” falling far short of the structural changes required for equal citizenship and the recognition of Kurdish identity. Yet it aligns perfectly with a populist rhetoric that casually pairs concepts that in fact cancel each other out, such as “brotherhood” and “democracy.”
In the regime’s daily populist rhetoric, the process is laconically labeled “terror-free Turkey”—and nothing more. Worse, Öcalan now seems to echo this line by consistently promoting a “brotherhood” narrative in which Turkishness clearly takes precedence.
Within this framework, the regime may make symbolic gestures of goodwill but will never undertake ground-breaking reforms that would establish the constitutional, legal, and political foundations of an equal citizenship.
Kurds, under this logic, can only become full-fledged citizens on the condition that they dissolve into the Turkish magma. Accordingly, since the Öcalan call on late February, not a single meaningful step has been undertaken by the regime toward the Kurds.
Third, established conflict-resolution mechanisms and expert involvement are entirely absent from the Turkish process—whether in the form of joint commissions or specialized bodies within relevant public institutions.
Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR)—the return of ex-combatants to civilian life through weapons collection, disbandment of armed groups, and social and economic reintegration—is not part of the process. Likewise, no provision has been made for truth and reconciliation.
All in all, within this unusual conflict-resolution architecture, the only concrete step taken by Ankara has been the establishment of an advisory parliamentary commission until the end of 2025, which meets behind closed doors and in which regime parties hold an absolute majority. Its agenda does not include, for example, a crucial Kurdish demand: the official recognition of the Kurdish language.
As for the opposition—including the main opposition party, the Republican People’s Party (CHP)—the prevailing view seems to be that the process would automatically trigger broader democratization. As if history had ever shown a non-democratic regime transforming into a democracy through the smooth management of peacebuilding with an ostracized people—in this case, the Kurds. Simply because such a management requires as a pre-condition, a functioning democracy.
The negative consequences of this clumsy process are already looming. While PKK circles have complied with the call of their “supreme leader” Öcalan, the Kurdish street remains profoundly skeptical. People welcome the official end of the armed struggle for its potential to spare the lives of their children—but no more than that.
Overall, the process is likely to strengthen Erdoğan and the regime bloc, allowing it to reap the political benefits of a “terror-free Turkey,” while weakening if not dismissing the Kurdish Political Movement. This carries the risk of a violent rejection of Kurdish “surrender” by radical—or less radical—segments of Kurdish polity.
Beyond this unfolding drama, Ankara’s ultimate objective remains the dissolution of the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES) in Syrian Kurdistan (Rojava), led by Syrian Kurds and backed by a 100,000-strong, NATO-trained and equipped military force.
Nevertheless, the integration of this force into the nascent Syrian army appears to be the only realistic option for Damascus, for the AANES, and for the international coalition supporting the entity, which includes the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and Saudi Arabia. Negotiations among all actors are underway despite Turkey’s stubborn opposition.
The Turkish state has never viewed the Kurdish issue as anything other than a security problem—whether inside Turkey or in neighboring countries. That reflex will not change unless Ankara is forced to accept the Rojava fait accompli, thereby swallowing both the empowerment and the legitimacy of a Kurdish-led polity in its immediate neighborhood and across the wider region.
In this compelling VoY essay, Emmanouela Papapavlou confronts the uncomfortable truth behind society’s yearly cycle of remembrance on November 25th. Drawing attention to the gap between public displays of solidarity and the everyday normalization of gender-based violence, Papapavlou argues that symbolic outrage too often gives way to collective amnesia. She highlights how cultural attitudes, institutional responses, and pervasive biases continue to silence women long after the awareness campaigns fade. This powerful reflection challenges readers to rethink what it truly means to remember—and what it would take to break the cycle of forgetting that enables violence to persist.
By Emmanouela Papapavlou*
Every year, on November 25th, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, we collectively remember. Or at least, we pretend to. We speak about statistics, about bruises that never made it to the news, about women whose names became hashtags only after their lives were taken from them. We speak about abuse as if it were an unexpected tragedy instead of a structural reality. And, on this day, we suddenly remember surveys and studies that have been sitting on desks and websites for months. They resurface not because something changed, but because today, the world feels obligated to look at them.
One of these reports, brought back into the spotlight once again, reminds us that one in three women over the age of fifteen has been subjected to domestic or sexual violence. A number repeated so often that it risks becoming meaningless, yet behind every “one” is a life permanently split into “before” and “after.” Tomorrow, not metaphorically, literally tomorrow, this report will be forgotten. We know this cycle. We’ve lived this cycle.We will slide right back into the comforting loop of what we call “normality.” And that is the most devastating truth: the empathy of today, no matter how intense, rarely survives beyond these twenty-four hours. We talk, we post, we condemn. We temporarily allow ourselves to feel. But the next morning the world resets. Outrage fades. Commitment dissolves. And we return to a daily life that quietly, steadily, and consistently tolerates violence against women as a background condition of society.
Politicians will step forward to insist that “progress has been made.” They will talk about panic buttons, shelters, hotlines, protocols, committees, and agencies. They will list every tool created over the past decades, as if the presence of infrastructure were equivalent to the presence of justice. But women know better. You know it. I know it. Every woman who has ever hesitated before speaking knows it. Reality does not change just because systems exist on paper. Reality does not change because a country has a handful of shelters while countless women remain too afraid to simply pick up the phone.
Because violence doesn’t hide in the absence of services. Violence hides in the culture that shapes how those services respond. Violence hides in the judgments whispered behind closed doors. Violence hides in the tone of the questions asked by police, by courts, by the media. Violence hides in our normality.
A normality that allows political representatives to make sexist, demeaning remarks publicly and return to their roles a few months later without consequence.
A normality that allows television panels to sneer at, interrupt, belittle, or humiliate women while the audience laughs or scrolls on. A normality that allows courtrooms to ask, “What were you wearing?” or “Why didn’t you leave sooner?” instead of asking the only question that matters: “What was done to you?” A normality that allows lawyers, people responsible for upholding justice, to be perpetrators of intimate partner violence while society digs for ways to blame the woman. A normality where a terrified woman can call for help and hear the phrase: “A police car is not a taxi.” A normality that teaches women every day, in every small way, that they must endure, justify, or hide what has happened to them.
And so, many women choose silence, not because they lack strength, but because they know exactly what comes next if they dare to speak. They know they will be interrogated, doubted, scrutinized. They know their character, their clothing, their tone, their past relationships, their mental health, their messages, their behavior, everything except the behavior of the perpetrator, will be put on trial. They know he will be offered excuses: stress, alcohol, jealousy, passion, misunderstanding. And they will be offered judgment.
We keep talking about panic buttons as if technology can solve what culture refuses to confront. But violence does not end because a button exists. Violence ends when a society refuses to tolerate the conditions that make that button necessary in the first place. And the truth is uncomfortable: We tolerate these conditions. We normalize them. We teach them, sometimes without noticing.
Every November 25th, we post, we share, we mourn, we “raise awareness.” And then, quietly, predictably, we forget. Reports will continue to be published. More women will become statistics before they become stories. More anniversaries will arrive to remind us of what we collectively failed to address.
The real question, the painful question, is not whether violence will continue. It is whether we will continue to look away. Whether we will continue to allow tomorrow to erase today’s conscience. Whether we will continue to slip back into a normality built on silence, excuses, and selective memory. So the question remains: Will we continue to forget? Or will we finally demand a world where remembering is not limited to a single day?
(*)Emmanouela Papapavlou is a high school student from Thessaloniki, Greece, deeply passionate about social and political issues. She has actively participated in Model United Nations and other youth forums, serving as a chairperson in multiple conferences and winning awards in Greek debate competitions. Writing is her greatest passion, and she loves using it to explore democracy, civic engagement, and human rights. Her dream is to share her ideas, inspire action, and amplify the voices of young people who want to make a difference. Email: emmanpapapavlou@gmail.com
Murphey, Helen L. (2025). “Civilizational Populism and Migration Diplomacy: Tunisia, the European Union, and Italy.”Journal of Populism Studies (JPS). November 23, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/JPS000121
Abstract
Civilizational populists prioritize territorial sovereignty in their approach to migration. In instances of North-South inequality, however, transit countries may be incentivized to accede to ideologically unpalatable agreements. To understand how these compromises are legitimized, this paper analyses Tunisia’s negotiations with the European Union following the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding in July 2023 that laid the foundations for cooperation over irregular migration. The deal faced challenges on both the Tunisian and EU sides. Tunisian president Kais Saied, a civilizational populist, chafed at perceived EU paternalism and threats to Tunisia’s sovereignty. The deal was also controversial within the EU due to the Saied regime’s human rights violations, which led to further scrutiny of the Tunisian government’s migration management practices. This article finds that Italy’s mediation, spearheaded by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, was successful in addressing these tensions. By positioning Italy as separate from EU paternalism through a shared framework informed by civilizational populism, Saied could justify engaging in positive-sum diplomacy with the Meloni government and symbolically dispel perceptions of diplomatic asymmetry.
Keywords:migration, European Union, Tunisia, populist foreign policy, Italy
By Helen L. Murphey*
Introduction
In April 2024, Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni met with Tunisian President Kais Saied for the fourth time in a year. The visit was presented as a success: the two leaders vowed to deepen cooperation, notably over migration, based on the principle of mutual benefit (Gasteli & Kaval, 2024). This successful outcome followed a tumultuous negotiation period with the European Union over a joint approach to migration governance, as some European Union members drew attention to Tunisia’s human rights record, and Saied reiterated his refusal to act as Europe’s border patrol (Dahmani, 2024).
A closer examination of Italy’s role in facilitating EU-Tunisian cooperation over migration helps unpack how populists use foreign policy to preserve sovereignty and mount a symbolic defense of an embattled national identity. It is a truism that populists tend to pursue foreign policy programs that strengthen national sovereignty at the expense of greater long-term international cooperation. This pattern is particularly pronounced when authoritarian populists are driven by strong ethnonationalist concerns, resulting in a reticence to adopt policy positions that might benefit other nations or minority groups (Wajner et al., 2024: 1825). Many such ethnonationalist populist actors can be identified as civilizational populists (Morieson, 2023), a phenomenon referring to populists around the world who adopt a culturalized understanding of the ‘people’ as belonging to a civilizational heritage (Yilmaz & Morieson, 2022b). Such rhetoric allows for boundaries to be drawn between insiders and outsiders that imply a concern with race and demography while instead using the language of culture and civilizational continuity (Mandelc, 2025). This both draws on nationalist tropes while also transcending them through reference to a more grandiose imaginary (Brubaker, 2017: 1211).
For such actors, migration forms a particularly potent issue. Not only is it is seen to threaten the ‘purity’ of the nation or region’s people, but it also is typically associated with the priorities of elites and their neoliberal economic project (Stewart, 2020: 1210). Indeed, civilizational populists’ construction of the ‘elite’ presents them as “culturally deracinated” and antagonistic to cultural and national specificity, in Brubaker’s framing (Brubaker, 2017: 1192). Migration thus combines populism’s tendency to differentiate itself from both global elites and their ideology of cosmopolitanism, as well as the “dangerous” foreigners who are often linked to crime and disorder (Taguieff, 1997: 20). Meloni herself has referred to migration as part of a “globalist” project to render Italy more economically and culturally vulnerable by depriving its citizenry of their natural identities (Kington, 2022). Yet civilizational populism – and its connections to race, religion, and ethnicity – also helps illuminate the logic of why some migrants may be more accepted than others. For example, while the Meloni regime has been critical of policies allowing for the intake of Middle Eastern and African migrants and refugees, it has been more welcoming towards Ukrainians fleeing the conflict.
In Tunisia, the issue of migration has been particularly salient under the Saied regime. Tunisia has long been a country of departure for migrants seeking to reach Europe, a pattern which accelerated after the economic and political instability following the Arab Spring. Yet while in the past, most migrants transiting from Tunisia to Europe have been of Tunisian origin, since 2023 Tunisia has become the largest point of departure for sub-Saharan African migrants embarking for Europe (Abderrahim, 2024). This has introduced new dynamics, including growing racist and anti-sub-Saharan African sentiments, that have been intensified by European policy favoring the externalization of migration governance.
In referencing migration, Saied has used language typical of civilizational populism: he has presented mass sub-Saharan African migration as a demographic threat to Tunisian identity. Such rhetoric was civilizational rather than solely ethnonationalist: irregular migration, in his words, would transform Tunisia from a member of the Arab-Islamic community to “just another African country” (Al Jazeera, 2023). This statement drew on a long history of contestation within negotiations over Tunisia’s regional identity, as well as long-standing marginalization of the country’s Black population (Mzioudet, 2024). After Saied voiced these sentiments in an infamous and controversial speech, Tunisian police began escalating repression of migrants and punishing organizations that advocate on their behalf.
Yet in addressing this issue, the Saied regime has had to balance competing priorities, indicating the complex and shifting power dynamics constraining populists’ agency in the foreign policy arena. The EU has been willing to offer much-needed financial support in exchange for Tunisian cooperation over migration governance. This dependency makes it difficult for Saied to adopt a classic civilizational populist positioning, in which sovereignty is performed through pure oppositionality (Dudlak, 2025: 629). In effect, however, more interceptions of migrant crossings at sea have led to increasing numbers of sub-Saharan Africans stranded in Tunisia, unable to work or obtain housing due to stricter government policies and further inflaming tensions with Tunisian citizens.
This article analyses the tensions at work in EU-Tunisian migration negotiations and their resolution through Italian mediation. Through analyzing official statements, politicians’ interviews with the press, media coverage, and debates within the European Union from the signing of the Memorandum of Understanding in 2023 to the development of European-Tunisian migration partnership throughout 2024-2025, it traces the narratives advanced by proponents and antagonists of the MoU about migration within Tunisia, Italy, and the European Union. This allows for populism to be analyzed as both a strategy and ideology, builds on studies that similarly approach populism – and its links to securitized imaginaries – using a qualitative narrative analytical method centering intertextuality (Löfflmann, 2024).
This study offers theoretical insights linking populist foreign policy to ontological security. Ontological security suggests that states – as well as international bodies – strive for continuity of identity, even at the cost of instability in their foreign relations (Mitzen, 2006). Through analyzing the EU-Italy-Tunisia relationship, this article argues that Meloni’s intercession, fueled in part by shared civilizational populist values between Meloni and Saied, helped the Saied regime cooperate with Europe whilst avoiding the appearance of subservience to the European Union. In so doing, it preserved both the ontological security of the Saied regime and its prioritization of sovereignty, as well as that of the European Union, who could distance themselves from the human rights abuses attending the deal.
This article suggests that unequal power dynamics between the European Union and Tunisia – and between member states within the European Union – are essential in understanding the Saied regime’s seeming erraticism during migration negotiations. Consequently, it advances that bilateral relations between populists can be improved through symbolically differentiating themselves from multilateral institutions – which, in turn, can further empower populists on the global stage.
(*) Helen L. Murphey is a Post Doctoral Scholar at the Mershon Center for International Security Studies at The Ohio State University. She earned a PhD in International Relations from the University of St Andrews in 2023, where she was a Carnegie PhD Scholar. She has previously held an appointment as a Visiting Assistant Professor of Politics at Whitman College. She is a Research Associate at the Institute of Middle East, Central Asia and Caucasus Studies at the University of St Andrews and an Affiliate at the Center for the Study of Religion at the Ohio State University. Her research interests include populism, conspiracy theories, religious social movements and migration. Email: murphey.27@osu.edu | ORCID: 0000-0002-1504-3818
“Anti-gender discourses are very interlinked and interconnected; we see these floating narratives repeated across countries like Latvia, Poland, and Russia,” says Dr. Monika de Silva. She explains that populist actors strategically exploit linguistic ambiguity around concepts such as gender, transforming technical legal terms into polarizing political symbols. “Language is never neutral… this linguistic openness is used to argue that because gender replaces the word sex, we can no longer talk about men and women,” she notes. The Istanbul Convention—intended to prevent violence against women—has thus been reframed as an LGBTQ+ threat or “radical feminist project.” Yet Dr. de Silva stresses the importance of civic resistance: Latvia’s mass protests “undoubtedly shaped” the president’s decision to return the withdrawal bill to parliament.
In recent weeks, Latvia has become a focal point in Europe’s ongoing struggle over gender equality, human rights, and democratic resilience. On October 31, 2025, the Saeima (Latvian Parliament) voted 56–32 to withdraw from the Council of Europe’s Istanbul Convention—only a year after ratifying the treaty designed to prevent and combat violence against women. The move relied heavily on claims that the Convention promotes “radical feminism” and “gender ideology,” echoing narratives with well-documented transnational origins. President Edgars Rinkēvičs soon returned the bill to parliament for reconsideration, warning that overturning ratification within a single legislative term would send “a contradictory message… to Latvian society and Latvia’s allies internationally.” He urged postponement until after upcoming elections, noting that Latvia risked becoming the first EU member state to renounce a human-rights treaty.
The backlash triggered the country’s largest civic protests since the 1990s. On November 6, 2025, more than 10,000 demonstrators gathered in Riga under the slogan “Let’s Protect Mother Latvia,” signaling a groundswell of civic resistance. At stake is not only the institutional integrity of gender-equality policy but also the credibility of Latvia’s constitutional and international commitments, especially given that the EU itself acceded to the Convention in 2023, making certain provisions binding regardless of national withdrawal.
It is against this turbulent backdrop that the European Center for the Study of Populism (ECPS) spoke with Dr. Monika de Silva, a political scientist at the University of Gothenburg. Her research, situated at the intersection of international relations and EU studies, examines how contested normative frameworks travel across borders. Her 2025 doctoral dissertation, “‘Gender Wars’ in Europe: Diplomatic Practice under Polarized Conditions,” traces how bilateral diplomacy and Council of the EU negotiations have been reshaped by conflicts over gender equality and LGBTQ+ rights. She is also affiliated with the Gender and Diplomacy project (GenDip) and the Centre for European Research (CERGU).
In the interview, Dr. de Silva argues that anti-gender discourse is best understood as a transnationally circulating narrative rather than merely a domestic reaction: “Anti-gender discourses are very interlinked and interconnected… we see manifestations of that as floating narratives that are very similar, whether we look at Latvia, Poland or Russia, etc.”
She identifies both supply and demand factors driving the spread of “gender ideology” rhetoric across Europe, noting that populist radical right actors strategically translate technical legal language into ideologically charged frames, exploiting linguistic ambiguity: “Language is never neutral… this linguistic openness is definitely used to advance such narratives.”
Dr. de Silva further highlights how withdrawal debates are reframing the Istanbul Convention away from its core purpose—preventing violence against women—toward narratives that depict it as an LGBTQ+ threat or “radical feminist project.” These interpretations, she warns, are not new; similar tropes have circulated across Europe for nearly a decade.
Yet her analysis also highlights agents of democratic resilience. Civil society mobilization, she observes, has already influenced decision-making: “The president… decided to return the law to parliament, and I am sure that seeing the largest protests in Latvia helped shape this decision.”
Finally, she issues a clear warning about governance consequences. Withdrawal would remove Latvia from GREVIO’s monitoring regime, generating critical transparency and implementation gaps: “A state not part of the Convention would not report to GREVIO… whatever it does is therefore less transparent, especially internationally.”
This interview thus offers rich insight into how legal, discursive, and geopolitical forces converge to shape contemporary anti-gender mobilization—and how democratic institutions and civil society may yet respond.
Here is the edited transcript of our interview with Dr. Monika de Silva, slightly revised for clarity and flow.
Latvia’s Withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention Signals Deep Democratic Trouble
Demonstrators in Riga on April 25, 2023, demand accountability after a woman’s murder, calling for political responsibility over Latvia’s years-long failure to ratify the Istanbul Convention. Photo: Gints Ivuskans.
Dr. Monica de Silva, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Latvia became the first EU state to vote to withdraw from the Istanbul Convention—just a year after ratifying it. The move, driven by the right-wing Latvia First party and backed by a governing coalition partner, relied on claims that the treaty promotes “gender ideology,” echoing Kremlin-style narratives. It triggered Latvia’s largest civic protests since the 1990s, despite the country having the highest femicide rate in Europe; President Edgars Rinkēvičs has since sent the bill back to parliament for review. How do you interpret this backlash—primarily as a cyclical conservative reaction, a structural anti-gender countermovement, or a strategic tool of PRR mobilization?
Dr. Monika de Silva: Of course, the fact that populist radical right parties like Latvia First mobilized around the Istanbul Convention and now seek to withdraw from it is not surprising; it is a continued strategy of populist radical right parties. What is different—and concerning—in this case is that a conservative party, the Union of Farmers and Greens, has joined these radical right actors in pursuing withdrawal from the Convention.
The Union has always had reservations about the Convention, which is typical not only of radical or far-right parties but also of more mainstream conservative parties. However, what distinguishes this situation is that the Union is part of the government, and, as such, agreed to a coalition deal in which the Latvian government committed to ratifying the Istanbul Convention. Now they are backing away from a commitment they made to the Latvian public and to their coalition partners, which is deeply troubling for the state of our democracy.
It has been a very long process from Latvia’s signing of the Istanbul Convention to its ratification just last year. During this period, we saw extensive democratic debate in parliament, as well as a case before the Constitutional Court, which confirmed that the Convention complies with the Latvian Constitution. Upon ratification, Latvia also adopted an interpretive declaration affirming that it would not replace the word “sex” with “gender” in national legislation, and so on. Many voices participated in this process, and concerns—for example, about the legal implications of the Convention—were duly assessed.
It is therefore very worrying that, at this stage, we still face efforts to retract this commitment. This raises questions not only about Latvia’s commitment to its own citizens—particularly women—but also to other states that are parties to the Convention.
The Supply and Demand of Anti-Gender Politics in Europe
In your view, what explains the political salience of “gender ideology” narratives in opposition to the Istanbul Convention across such varied contexts as Latvia, Bulgaria, Turkey, and Hungary?
Dr. Monika de Silva: I like to think about the gender ideology narrative as having a supply side and a demand side. On the supply side, we have in all of these countries very strong populist radical right parties, but also other political movements that are very effective at mobilizing against the Convention and transnationalizing this issue. So this is the supply side of the narrative.
But what is even more interesting is the demand side. This strategy would not work without the resonance of this argument among a certain part of the population. What is similar in all of these countries—you mentioned Latvia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Hungary—is that they all participate in European integration but are not at the core of this project. They are not Western European countries; they are Central and Eastern European countries, or even countries on the boundary between Europe and other continents.
There are also many interlinkages between European identity and gender equality norms. We see that adopting certain norms or laws gives states a certain status within European integration. The case of Turkey is illustrative. The Istanbul Convention is named the Istanbul Convention for a reason. It was adopted in Turkey, and Turkey gained a lot of status points by hosting the conference; it was able to brand itself as European, liberal, etc.
But let’s remember that this was over 10-15 years ago, and now we live in a different moment. Today, Turkey’s accession to the European Union is much less likely. We also live in a moment where the European Union does not have as much power as it used to. So, this linkage between Europeanness and gender equality does not work as well as it once did, and it creates backlash.
Gender equality norms are very dear to people; they are part of people’s social identity, whether on the left or on the right. So, it is not something that can be easily changed. People also do not want to feel that something is being imposed on them, so it is very easy to mobilize against this narrative in these countries—arguing that this is Western Europe, or the EU, or the Council of Europe, etc., or the elites forcing them to change their core norms.
Women and LGBTQ+ activists in İzmir, Turkey, rally for the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, highlighting femicide and the withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention. Photo: Idil Toffolo.
Populism, Geopolitics, and the Cross-Border Spread of Gender Backlash
To what extent is anti-gender discourse a domestic phenomenon, and to what extent is it borrowing transnational scripts, including Kremlin-linked rhetoric that frames the Convention as destroying “traditional family values”?
Dr. Monika de Silva: Of course, anti-gender discourses are very interlinked and interconnected, and we see manifestations of that as floating narratives that are very similar, whether we look at Latvia, Poland or Russia.
In the Latvian case, for example, I have not seen any new tropes in the anti-gender discourse, even though we have had this conversation since 2015–2016. So now, almost ten years on, there is nothing new. The Istanbul Convention is presented as a threat to the family, sneaking in certain gender-equality or feminist or LGBT norms that states did not initially think were in the Convention, or that it will make states allow for non-binarity in their legal systems, or make more lenient laws regarding transgender rights.
We see this over and over again, across time and space. What is the reason for that? To some extent, it is coordinated. We have coalitions of states that cooperate with each other in venues like the United Nations—traditional-values coalitions and so on—and they exchange and build their discourses together. We also have non-state, transnational organizations like the World Congress of Families that do this.
Regarding the link between these narratives and Russia or the Kremlin: we definitely see why there would be an incentive for Russia to stir up the conversation around the Istanbul Convention in Latvia and other Baltic states. This creates a lot of mistrust between countries like Latvia and other Western European countries and the EU, especially in a situation where we have this aggression on the eastern border of Europe. This is a problem that can steer the fate of this country one way or another.
We have elections in Latvia next year, and the Istanbul Convention will surely be a significant part of the campaigns. Hopefully, it will not steer the political scene in this country toward a pro-Russian direction. I hope we will see well-informed, democratic debate on the Istanbul Convention. But of course, since this is such a polarizing topic, there are certain risks involved.
Populist Actors Exploit Linguistic Ambiguity in EU Gender Debates
How do PRR actors transform technical legal language into ideologically charged rhetoric, especially around contested terms like “gender,” which your work has shown can be strategically mistranslated or emptied of meaning in EU negotiation spaces?
Dr. Monika de Silva: The discussion around the term “gender” shows us that language is never neutral. It is always politically charged, whether it is adopted as technical or legal. In the case I studied, several EU member states at some point decided that they did not want to use the word “gender” in EU-adopted documents. This, of course, stirred a lot of contestations around what gender even means for the EU, and so on. The fact is that what gender means, or what gender equality means for the EU, has never been a settled issue.
As you know, all EU languages have equal legal value. In different languages, gender equality is translated basically as equality between men and women. This had not been an issue for a long time because it did not spark as much discussion as it does now, with many states being very attached to the idea that gender should include more than men and women, and some countries being attached to the idea that it should not.
So, there is this discursive openness in what gender means for the EU. It existed before the so-called gender-language crisis. Populist parties, populist governments, are very skilled at using this discursive openness. Because if we do not know what the exact boundaries of a certain word are—and this is not atypical in political discourse—it is very easy to argue that this word means something essentially ridiculous. For example, because gender replaces the word sex, we can no longer talk about men and women. This is, of course, not what the word “gender” means, but this linguistic openness is definitely used to advance such narratives.
Why Some States Avoid Ratification: The Limits of EU Influence
European Union flags against European Parliament in Brussels, Belgium.
In your research, you explore “language bargaining” and diplomatic-legal talk. How have these dynamics influenced EU-level negotiations on the Istanbul Convention, and how did they enable states such as Hungary or Slovakia to avoid ratification?
Dr. Monika de Silva: Definitions and decisions in the EU are always outcomes of negotiations. There are diplomacy and negotiation involved in reaching a jointly acceptable outcome. That, of course, is a good, healthy thing if we have parties that are not always expecting to arrive at their maximalist outcome. This is not possible in an organization with 27 member states.
The ability to make these compromises and negotiate was something that enabled the European Union to accede to the Istanbul Convention, even though several member states decided that they themselves would not accede to the Convention. But they accepted the fact that, within a legitimate process and based on the rule of law—with also a case in the Court of Justice of the EU confirming that the EU can accede to the Istanbul Convention—yes, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
So, there is very little that the EU can do to make other member states ratify the Convention. This is their sovereign decision; they are not obliged to ratify the Convention under EU law. Even given the narratives that we talked about—the imposition from the EU and so on—this may actually have a reverse effect, a backlash against this sort of narrative of imposition.
So, I think the way to go is to maintain a culture of compromise, which assures these governments and their populations that this is the way we work in the EU, including in cases like the Istanbul Convention.
How a Women’s Protection Treaty Became a Culture-War Symbol
Could you reflect on how the Istanbul Convention became symbolically detached from its core purpose—preventing violence against women—and reframed instead as an LGBTQ+ threat or “radical feminist” project?
Dr. Monika de Silva: Of course, this is very unfortunate—what we see is that a convention intended to protect women from violence, gender-based violence, and protect domestic-violence victims, not only women, suddenly becomes a token in political discussions.
Even if some political movements would like the Istanbul Convention to stand for LGBT rights and feminist projects to a larger extent, it does not do so, as populist parties would like us to believe. That is why it is very important to counter misinformation around the Istanbul Convention and always go back to what it actually stands for and what it actually says. This is how movements across Europe will succeed in ensuring that the Convention is a successful tool—by returning to its true purpose, which is largely consensual. If we look at public opinion across Europe, most people agree that violence against women is not something they want to see in their societies.
We may have different ideas about the scope of the problem and how to tackle it, but returning to this core purpose is something that can mobilize support for the Convention. Bringing the Convention back to its purpose and localizing that purpose—not as something imposed or defined by other countries on Latvia, for example, but as something important within Latvian society itself—is very important.
We see civil society learning to do that—to focus on these two things. When we look at the protests in Latvia, I have seen a lot of Latvian flags; the protest itself has this motto of protecting Mother Latvia. So, it gives you the idea that this is about the citizens and population of Latvia. It is not about the EU; it is not about how we look in the eyes of EU bureaucrats. This is a local issue.
People Power Matters: Protest as a Deterrent to Anti-Gender Politics
Women protest in Warsaw, Poland, against the abortion ban and new laws restricting the right to contest fines or penalties. Photo: Eryk Losik.
What role does civil society mobilization play against gender backlash? Latvia has seen some of its largest protests since independence—can such mobilization create durable political resistance?
Dr. Monika de Silva: Of course it matters, and we have seen this in the case of Latvia. The president of Latvia decided to return the decision about the Istanbul Convention to parliament, and I am sure that seeing the mobilization of people and witnessing the largest protests in Latvia helped shape this decision.
We have other cases as well. Poland is a very good example of how civil society mobilization really works. Think about the Women’s Strike in Poland, and the fact that even though Poland had a populist government for over eight years, very much threatening gender equality, Poland has not withdrawn from the Istanbul Convention. This was, to a large extent, the success of civil society mobilization, acting as a deterrent to incumbents—showing that if you take a decision that is against our core values and beliefs, we will not continue supporting you.
At the end of the day, people want to stay in power, and civil society mobilization shows them that they can only do so if they take into account what civil society wants. This mobilization has to continue until the elections in Latvia next year, and hopefully in a way that mobilizes a large part of society rather than polarizing it.
Can EU-Level Binding Offset National Withdrawal?
How has EU legal accession to the Istanbul Convention (2023) shaped the political field? Does EU-level binding partially compensate for national withdrawals or refusals to ratify?
Dr. Monika de Silva: This is a complex legal issue—really an issue for legal nerds—but it is important for the public to understand it, too. Some parts of the Istanbul Convention are ratified by the EU, and the majority of the Convention can be ratified by EU member states, depending on who has competence in a given issue.
So, the EU—regardless of whether member states ratified the Convention or not—will have a certain part of the Convention apply, for example in the case of Latvia, just because the EU ratified it. But this is a very limited scope: it includes transnational cooperation between national court systems on violence against women and domestic violence.
A second area is asylum and refugee policy, because the EU has competence over this policy. And third, the EU has to implement the Convention within its own institutions.
So, this is a limited scope—this is one thing. Another issue is that although in theory it may sound all well and good, a division of competences, in practice this is a bit of a mess. Even though the EU is legally responsible for asylum policy, it is actually member states that implement it. It is states that run asylum-seeking centers, states that receive asylum requests, and so on. So, in practice, it may be difficult to differentiate who is responsible for what, and we have yet to see how this will work in practice.
The Real-World Costs of Leaving the Istanbul Convention
Women and LGBTQ+ activists in İzmir, Turkey, rally on November 25 for the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, highlighting femicide and the withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention. Photo: Idil Toffolo.
And lastly, Dr. de Silva, from a governance-effects perspective, what are the tangible consequences of withdrawal or non-ratification for women’s lives, particularly in terms of monitoring gaps and legal reform trajectories?
Dr. Monika de Silva: In the case of Latvia specifically, the Istanbul Convention is still in force and will be so until the parliament votes otherwise. But this will likely not happen until the next parliamentary elections in Latvia next year. So, in the case of Latvia, we are so far safe.
But what would happen if Latvia withdrew from the Convention? Let’s think about this. Many provisions of the Convention are already implemented in this case, and then we would have to focus on keeping these provisions in place. This is also a strategy in countries where it is very clear that they will not ratify the Convention in any foreseeable future. Think about Hungary. This is where civil society should focus on national law on domestic violence and violence against women being as strong as possible and perhaps reflecting the provisions of the Convention to the largest extent possible.
Latvia has already reported to GREVIO, the expert body of the Convention that monitors its implementation, and from this report we know that there are still gaps. The government itself says, for example, that it does not yet have assistance centers for rape victims. Now the government is legally obliged to establish them in the foreseeable future. If Latvia were not a member of the Convention, it would not have a legal obligation to do so.
There are situations like that. But the biggest and most immediate difference we would see is that a state not part of the Convention would not report to GREVIO. Whatever it does is therefore less transparent, especially internationally. There is less scrutiny, because once a state reports to GREVIO, it is evaluated by this body of experts—experts on violence against women and domestic violence who know what the Convention requires and how it should be implemented. States outside the Convention would also not face scrutiny from other member states or from international civil society.
This commentary examines how queerness intersects with genocide and international law in the context of Palestine. Ass. Professor Izat El Amoor argues that queer Palestinians confront not only Israel’s genocidal violence but also Western pinkwashing narratives that weaponize queerness to justify oppression. By situating pinkwashing and pinkwatching within broader struggles of decolonization, the piece shows how queer analysis exposes the hypocrisy of Western legal and human rights frameworks while offering new tools for resistance. Linking Israel’s use of pinkwashing to global failures of international law—including the ICJ case brought by South Africa—the essay insists that genocide studies must reckon with queerness as central, not peripheral, to understanding both the violence in Gaza and pathways toward Palestinian liberation.
In the colossal scope of the annihilation of Palestinians since October 7, queerness is not a mere addendum when positioned in the scholarship and legality of genocide. As Palestinians contested Western discourses of international law and genocide for their liberation, queer Palestinians in parallel challenged Western discourses of queerness – pinkwashing[1] – that have been employed as genocidal tools against all Palestinians. Within the larger Palestinian decolonization struggle, a queer analysis reveals additional shortcomings of the current genocide scholarship and legal frameworks that are useful for Palestinian resistance yet might otherwise remain hidden.
Pinkwashing genocide emerged boisterously from within Israel’s toolbox against an increasing diplomatic and legal global isolating pressure. This pressure entailed a string of legal and humanitarian decisions/actions such as UN Security Council votes for Palestinian statehood and membership; UN Human Rights Council resolutions of crimes against humanity; ambassador recalls and severance of diplomatic relations with many countries; states’ recognition of Palestine; state-calls on the International Criminal Court (ICC) to investigate war crimes against civilians; state-requests for a court opinion on whether Israel’s occupation violates international law. Pinkwatching[2] aims at strengthening this pressure that Israel has been diligently countering via pinkwashing, amongst other schemes. Consequently, pinkwashing and pinkwatching—while contradictory—transpire as instructive of the pretense of Western hypocritical dichotomies tied to human rights, international law, and preventing/ending genocide insofar as Palestinian liberation.
The ICJ Case Through a Queer Lens
Though not obviously connected at first glance, South Africa’s case against Israel at the ICJ—filed on December 29, 2023, regarding Israel’s actions in Gaza and widely considered the most significant diplomatic/legal attempt to isolate Israel—can also be analyzed through this queer framework. South Africa alleged that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza, violating the Genocide Convention through 75 years of apartheid, 56 years of occupation, and a 16-year blockade prior to October 7. Specifically in Gaza, South Africa accused Israel of eight “genocidal acts”: killing Palestinians; inflicting serious bodily and mental harm; mass displacement; deprivation of food and water; denial of shelter, clothing, hygiene, and sanitation; blocking medical care; destroying Palestinian life; and imposing measures to prevent births.
On January 11–12, 2024, the Peace Palace in The Hague hosted two days of hearings on South Africa’s request for provisional measures. On January 26, 2024, the Court ordered Israel to take all steps to prevent acts that could qualify as genocide under the 1948 Genocide Convention. The Court acknowledged that at least some of South Africa’s claims could fall within the Convention’s scope. However, it did not order Israel to halt its military operations in Gaza, as South Africa requested. Still, both governments declared the ruling a win, each interpreting it as validation of their stance.
Although ICJ rulings carry binding force, they lack enforcement power, and Israel has refused to comply. South Africa’s foreign minister Naledi Pandor emphasized that compliance would be impossible without a ceasefire. On February 26, 2024, Human Rights Watch reported that Israel had not implemented the Court’s provisional measures and had “continued to obstruct the provision of basic services and the entry and distribution within Gaza of fuel and lifesaving aid.” That same day, Amnesty International stated that Israel was “defying” the ICJ ruling. On March 28, 2024, in response to worsening conditions, the ICJ issued additional emergency measures requiring Israel to guarantee basic food supplies to stave off famine. Then, on May 24, 2024 the Court ordered an immediate halt to Israel’s Rafah offensive, which Israel outright rejected.
Because both Israel and South Africa are signatories to the Genocide Convention, jurisdiction is established. South Africa argues that, as a state party, it has a duty to act to prevent genocide and is legally obligated to pursue all necessary measures. The Genocide Convention extends beyond punishment to prevention, recognizing genocide as more than mass killing. South Africa’s petition highlights this obligation, aiming to fulfill the Convention’s purpose. Despite historical precedent of international law failing Palestinians and the slim likelihood of success, the case still carried hope—not only for a ruling in South Africa’s favor but also for a possible end to Israel’s genocidal campaign.
Decolonial Struggles Beyond the Courtroom
Pinkwatching operates on a similar basis of hope for Palestinian collective liberation, even though Israel is unlikely to abandon its pinkwashing efforts. Both South Africa’s ICJ case and pinkwatching contribute to the Palestinian decolonization struggle, offering different tools for globally isolating Israel and its supporters. While pinkwatching may occupy a small place in international legal and political arenas, it nonetheless provides an important pathway for resistance. This resonates with Palestinian scholar Nora Erakat’s (2020) claim that law must work alongside political strategies if it is to meaningfully support Palestine.
Like South Africa’s ICJ case, pinkwatching underscores the divide between legality and morality in international affairs. Western responses to both overlook moral dimensions, thus blocking accountability-based decolonial breakthroughs. Legal efforts are essential to halt genocide, but they remain insufficient to achieve the deeper moral and spiritual transformation necessary in the West to ensure genocide truly stops and does not recur. Treating genocide solely as a legal matter exposes the inadequacy of law when societies, like Israel’s, persist in the immoral conviction of having the right to commit it. Pinkwashers similarly claim false moral authority, reinforcing the Western legal hypocrisy that South Africa challenges. Recognizing this, pinkwatching organizers long ago chose to work outside such flawed structures, rejecting Western queer discourses that cannot deliver Palestinian liberation. Their efforts affirm that a queer-informed path to freedom cannot rely on Western legal or rights-based paradigms.
International law’s stated responsibility to prevent genocide and protect victims has repeatedly faltered due to “realpolitik, the lack of political will, and economic interests,” in the words of scholar Samuel Totten (2011). Historically, Totten says, responses to genocide have been “inconsequential. Nothing that will rock or threaten a [genocidal] government or nation’s well-being. Nothing punitive.” Israel dismissed South Africa’s charges as “baseless,” accusing it of acting as “the legal arm” of Hamas while insisting its actions were self-defense under international law—claims that largely went uncontested.
Pinkwashing, Early Warnings, and the Dynamics of Genocide
A clear example of realpolitik overriding legal and scholarly genocide frameworks came in the US, Germany, and France backing Israel at the ICJ, despite their histories of complicity in past genocides. France declared that accusing Israel of genocide “is to cross a moral threshold.” Germany pledged to defend Israel in light of the Holocaust. The US dismissedthe ICJ case as a distraction from “peace and security.” Beyond a lack of will to prevent genocide, South Africa’s case reveals that failure itself is pursued to serve Western interests.[3] Thus, by undermining their own institutions of “justice” such as international law and the UN, Western powers show themselves not only complicit in but active facilitators[4] of genocide. Their justifications parallel pinkwashing narratives, which weaponize queerness under a veneer of liberal progressivism while disregarding Palestinian lives—queer and non-queer alike.
From a queer perspective, Gaza’s genocide illustrates what scholar Sheri Rosenberg (2013) describes as the “danger of classifications” in genocide prevention. The targeting of queer Palestinians demonstrates that genocide “must be understood as an unfolding process, considered in light of historical, political, and social factors” and recognized as a complex phenomenon rather than reduced to a definition. When genocide is confined to legal definitions “against which unfolding events are to be measured,” it prioritizes “legalism [and] subjects each genocide to a rigid test in order to maintain the integrity of the term and determine criminal culpability.” Seeing genocide in Palestine as dynamic rather than static makes space for analyzing pinkwashing and pinkwatching as integral to genocide studies. Queerness unsettles the field’s fixation on definitional debates and strengthens arguments such as Rosenberg’s for “early warning systems [that] seek to collect, analyze, and communicate information” to identify potential genocides before escalation. For Palestinians, decades of orientalist tropes—including the use of homophobia to dehumanize them—could have served as early warnings had queer experiences been taken seriously.
Beyond South Africa, a queer reading of Gaza’s genocide also pushes genocide studies to destabilize fixed ideas of group identity. Scholars like Lily Nellans (2020) and Patrick Vernon (2021) have noted the Genocide Convention’s failure to recognize groups defined by gender and sexuality. Scholar Matthew Waites (2018) argues that including sexual orientation and gender identity as protected groups allows recognition of violence against queer communities in Nazi Germany, Uganda, and the Gambia as genocidal. Although Israel’s violence in Gaza targets Palestinians indiscriminately, pinkwashing’s use of queerness to normalize genocidal policies highlights how queer identities are manipulated within genocidal contexts. This manipulation, shaped by pinkwashing, differs from past genocides, marking a distinct phenomenon in the Palestinian experience.
Testimonies Erased: Pinkwashing as Justification and Diversion
Scholar Thomas Simon (1996) argues that in the initial legal definitions of genocide, the Convention’s drafters assumed that the groups requiring protection were “permanent, stable, and intractable,” recognizable by all. Because queer Palestinians have historically resisted Western queer visibility politics—centered on recognition, citizenship, and coming out—they cannot be defined as a protected group under this framework. Scholars like Freda Kabatsi (2005) argue that while the drafters treated group existence as a prerequisite for other rights, pinkwashing constructs queer Palestinians as a group only through a savior-like gaze that conditions their rights and protection on Western recognition. By forcibly separating queer Palestinians from the broader society, this group-based framing legitimizes a genocide that in reality indiscriminately targets all Palestinians. This occurs, Kabatsi (2005) says, when the “group and membership in it are defined by the perpetrator.” Through pinkwashing, Israel reshapes the definition of the Palestinian collective by isolating its queer members, portraying them as exceptions to the population at large. This narrative enables Israel to justify violence against Palestinians—including queers—while presenting itself as a defender of queer rights.
When examined through pinkwashing and pinkwatching, the instrumentalization of queerness to justify genocide reveals a key distinction between contemporary and historical genocides as studies by Robert Melson (2011) show. While queer people have been killed in earlier genocides, the case in Gaza differs because of the weaponization of both alleged Palestinian heteronormativity and Israel’s homonormativity, the latter being used to claim the role of “savior” of queer Palestinians in the process of ‘othering’ all Palestinians. This demonstrates, to build on Vernon (2021), that both heteronormativity and homonormativity are “relevant to genocidal violence against non-queer people as well as violence against queer people.”
Genocide, therefore, emerges as a behavior rather than a consistent phenomenon across cases. In Palestine, this “comportment of genocide”—which may either define or obscure genocide—takes the form of pinkwashing (Kabatsi, 2005). Here, pinkwashing functions as both a tool of justification and a means of diversion in the genocidal narrative against Palestinians. This may, in fact, represent the first documented instance of such comportment through pinkwashing.
Queering the analysis of genocide in Palestine beyond legal approaches further underscores the importance of listening to victims. In genocidal contexts, as Melson (2011) argues, “testimonies of victims and survivors must be taken into account in order to better understand the motives of the perpetrators and bystanders” and to give victims and survivors a voice in the narrative of destruction. The testimonies of queer Palestinians and the work of pinkwatching activists, however, remain especially marginalized—not only because queer Palestinians, like all Palestinians, are killed in the genocide, but also because pinkwashing depicts them as either nonexistent or limited to experiencing social death in their communities, thus erasing their capacity to provide testimony. This is particularly relevant in light of the ICJ’s order that Israel preserve evidence of genocide and comply with UN investigations. Instead, Israel has systematically destroyed evidence by blocking journalists from entering Gaza, targeting and killing reporters, and denying UN workers access for documentation.
From Exceptionalism to Resistance: Rethinking Genocide Studies
Israel’s reliance on pinkwashing to avoid accountability has broader consequences beyond the devastation in Palestine. By exploiting queer communities in pursuit of ethnonationalist goals, Israel signals to other states that such practices can be adopted with impunity, without fear of consequences. Condemning Israel and the West’s disregard for international law, Irish MEP Clare Daly stated, “the rules-based order is in roaring form.” Israeli exceptionalism reinforces the fact that the West has always applied one standard of international law for its allies and another for the rest of the world. After months of openly discarding international law in Gaza, the collapse of the post–World War II system—built by the US and Europe to maintain global dominance—has become undeniable. Palestinians, including queer Palestinians and their pinkwatching allies, remain steadfast in their resistance to this destructive order.
Pinkwashing and pinkwatching emphasize the need for genocide studies and international law to adopt queer perspectives in documenting, analyzing, and explaining both Israel’s genocide and the international community’s failure to prevent it. Building on the leadership of pinkwatching activists, scholars must foreground the heteronormative and homonormative structures of Zionism, nationalism, colonialism, orientalism, and imperialism as central to understanding genocidal violence in Gaza and beyond. As scholarship continues to evolve, queerness must be acknowledged as an essential contributor to Palestinian liberation, complementing other political strategies. Since legal approaches alone have repeatedly proven insufficient for advancing decolonization, recognizing queerness at the intersection of law and politics is crucial.
(*) Dr. Izat ElAmoor is a self-identified queer Palestinian, and an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Hendrix College studying LGBTQ issues in the Arab world, Palestine included.
References
Erakat, N. (2020). Justice for some: Law and the question of Palestine. Stanford University Press.
Kabatsi, F. (2005). “Defining or diverting genocide: Changing the comportment of genocide.” International Criminal Law Review, 5(4), 387–407.
Melson, R. (2011). “Critique of current genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 279–286.
Nellans, L. (2020). “A queer (er) genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 14(3), 7–16.
Rosenberg, S. P. (2012). “Genocide is a process, not an event.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 7(1), 16–23.
Simon, T. W. (1996). “Defining genocide.” Wisconsin International Law Journal, 15(2), 243–289.
Totten, S. (2011). “The state and future of genocide studies and prevention: An overview and analysis of some key issues.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 211–230.
Vernon, P. (2021). “Queering genocide as a performance of heterosexuality.” Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 49(2), 248–279.
Waites, M. (2018). “Genocide and global queer politics.” Journal of Genocide Research, 20(1), 44–67.
Footnotes
[1] To pinkwash, Israel exploits queer rights to project a progressive queer friendly image of itself while concealing its occupation and apartheid of Palestinians.
[3] Some signs include the May 6th threatening letter by 12 US republican senators, led by Sen. Tom Cotton, to the ICC chief prosecutor Karim A.A. Khan with sanctions and banning ICC “employees and associates” from entering the US over possible warrants against Israel, saying explicitly, “target Israel and we will target you.” South Africa’s Pandor received the same letter. On May 20th, Khan applied for arrest warrants for Hamas chief Yahya Sinwar and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
[4] The US and Germany, Israel’s top arms supplier, saw their weapon manufacturer corporates directly profit from the genocide as their share prices have exponentially risen since October 7.
In an exclusive ECPS interview, Professor Kenneth Roth—former Executive Director of Human Rights Watch and now at Princeton—warns that Israel is cynically using charges of antisemitism to shield what he calls genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza. “Netanyahu and his supporters are not defending Jews worldwide,” Professor Roth stresses. “They are sacrificing them—cheapening the very concept of antisemitism just when it is most needed.” Drawing on three decades of human rights leadership, Professor Roth situates Israel’s narrative strategy within a broader authoritarian playbook: populist leaders tilt elections, capture institutions, and scapegoat minorities while silencing dissent. His central warning is stark: criticism of Israel is not antisemitism, and blurring this line endangers both Palestinians and Jews worldwide.
In this exclusive ECPS interview, Professor Kenneth Roth—longtime executive director of Human Rights Watch and now Charles and Marie Robertson Visiting Professor at the Princeton School for Public and International Affairs—warns that the Israeli government is cynically using allegations of antisemitism to silence criticism of what he describes as genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza. “Netanyahu and his supporters are not defending Jews worldwide,” Professor Roth stresses. “They are sacrificing them—cheapening the very concept of antisemitism just when it is most needed.” For him, conflating criticism of Israel with antisemitism not only shields state crimes but also undermines real protections against anti-Jewish hatred.
Professor Roth’s reflections build on more than three decades of global human rights advocacy. At Human Rights Watch, which he directed until August 2022, he oversaw the organization’s expansion into one of the world’s leading rights watchdogs, active in about 100 countries. Earlier, he worked as a federal prosecutor in New York and on the Iran-Contra investigation in Washington. From that vantage, he situates Israel’s narrative strategy within a wider pattern of populist-fueled authoritarianism. Today’s autocrats, Professor Roth argues, “still crave elections but tilt the playing field,”systematically undermining courts, capturing media, restricting NGOs, and intimidating universities. Democracy, he insists, cannot be reduced to ballots alone—it requires freedoms of expression, association, and the rule of law, all under attack.
Even amid authoritarian resurgence, Professor Roth emphasizes the power of coalitions of democratic, rights-respecting states. He recalls decisive breakthroughs such as the treaty banning landmines and the Rome Statute establishing the International Criminal Court (ICC)—both achieved despite superpower opposition. More recent successes, from UN oversight of the Saudi-led bombing campaign in Yemen to European-Turkish pressure curbing Russian strikes in Syria, show that principled middle-power alliances still matter. NGOs, too, must remain unwaveringly consistent: “Our work doesn’t distinguish between perceived friend and foe—we apply the same standards to everybody,” Professor Roth explains. That consistency, he argues, sustains credibility and strengthens the politics of shaming.
The interview traverses urgent contemporary debates: Trump’s embrace of authoritarian leaders, his sanctions on the ICC, and his “flood-the-zone” tactic of overwhelming institutions with constant shocks. Professor Roth dissects the dangers of scapegoating minorities, the misuse of Holocaust memory to excuse present atrocities, and the precedent of blurring law enforcement with war in extrajudicial killings. At every step, he insists that human rights must not be selectively applied or subordinated to cynical populist narratives.
Taken together, Professor Roth’s insights offer both a sobering indictment and a pragmatic roadmap: exposing the authoritarian logic that links populism, repression, and impunity, while affirming that principled coalitions and civil society can still defend rights. Above all, his warning is clear: criticism of Israel is not antisemitism—and protecting the integrity of that distinction is essential for Jews worldwide, Palestinians under siege, and the universality of human rights.
Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor Kenneth Roth, lightly edited for clarity and readability.
Autocrats Still Crave Elections but Tilt the Playing Field
Nested dolls depicting world autocrats Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump and Recep Erdogan on the counter of souvenirs in Moscow
Thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In your recent writings, you stress the fragility of checks against authoritarian drift and note how today’s rulers “raise the cost” for defenders by targeting courts, media, and NGOs. What, in your view, makes this current wave of populist-fueled democratic backsliding distinct from earlier authoritarian surges, particularly in the subtler tactics of regulation, funding, and legal harassment?
Professor Kenneth Roth: I’m not sure it’s completely unique, but clearly autocrats are learning from each other. The current wave is characterized foremost by what you might call electoral authoritarianism. That is, autocratic leaders who still want the legitimacy of an election but use the steps of the autocrat’s handbook to undercut checks and balances on their authority and to tilt the electoral playing field in their favor.
It’s pretty straightforward what they do: they target the various potential checks on their authority—courts, lawyers, journalists, academics, civil society—and use different techniques to undermine their independence. With the media, for example, outlets may be owned by large corporate conglomerates vulnerable to government pressure. We’re seeing that in the United States right now. It could also take the form of regulations that make it harder for civil society to secure funding, particularly from abroad. Sometimes it’s direct attacks, such as withholding funding, which we’re now seeing Trump do with universities.
These are variations on a theme, but the aim is always the same: to stymie and weaken the elements that sustain democracy. Because democracy is not just about elections. It is about the freedoms of expression, association, and assembly, as well as the rule of law that holds leaders accountable to the law and to the rights it embodies. And these autocrats are intent on undercutting those checks. It’s pretty clear.
Coalitions of Democracies Can Overcome Superpower Opposition
You have argued that coalitions of mid-sized states—beyond the West—can sometimes defend human rights more effectively than major powers, urging leverage toward countries like India, Brazil, South Africa, Japan, and even China. Two decades on, do you still see these “plural centers of pressure” as the backbone of rights defense, or has today’s fractured multilateralism, intensified authoritarian entrenchment, and the rise of populist geopolitics blunted that strategy—and what would an updated map of leverage look like?
Professor Kenneth Roth: I wouldn’t say that coalitions are better than the major powers, but that they can serve as substitutes when the major powers stand in opposition. At this stage, when the US government has essentially stopped promoting human rights, I don’t think we should just throw in the cards and give up. There have been many cases in the past where coalitions of governments have compensated for the absence—or even the opposition—of the US government, not to mention the Soviet or Russian government, or the Chinese government. I describe this in my book Riding Wrongs, where repeatedly, coalitions of democratic, rights-respecting governments, when banded together, have had the moral authority to overcome superpower opposition.
That’s what happened with the treaty to ban landmines. All the major powers opposed it, yet a group of about 60 governments—a coalition that Human Rights Watch and our colleagues helped to build—overcame that opposition. We ended up sharing the Nobel Peace Prize for that effort. Something very similar occurred with the creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC). You may recall the Clinton administration was adamantly opposed to a court that could even theoretically prosecute an American. That was not its idea of justice. Yet in the final vote in Rome in 1998, the US lost overwhelmingly—120 to 7—marking a decisive victory for the rule of law.
More recently, as I describe in my book, despite a lack of any assistance, if not outright opposition, from Washington, a group of governments led by the Netherlands secured oversight from the UN Human Rights Council of the Saudi-led coalition’s bombing in Yemen—making a huge difference in terms of saving civilian lives. Another coalition, involving Germany, France, and Turkey, pressured Putin in March 2020 to stop bombing the three million civilians in Idlib province in Syria, the last area at the time held by the armed opposition.
These are just a few among many examples showing how coalitions of governments can effectively defend human rights—not only without Washington, but often despite its opposition.
NGOs Must Be Principled—Apply the Same Standards to All
Since major powers like the US, Russia, and China routinely instrumentalize human rights for geopolitical ends, how should NGOs and the broader rights community rethink their strategy—balancing naming-and-shaming with ally-seeking—while avoiding the slide from principled engagement into complicity in populist or authoritarian projects?
Professor Kenneth Roth: The idea that governments instrumentalize human rights is nothing new. This has always happened. If you just go back historically, there was a tendency during the Cold War to highlight the human rights abuses of one’s opponents and neglect the human rights abuses of one’s allies. So, this has always been a problem. I think the role that NGOs should play is to be principled. That is to say, to ensure that our work doesn’t distinguish between perceived friend and foe, but that we apply the same standards to everybody. That enhances the capacity to shame, because people understand that when human rights groups condemn somebody, when we spotlight a government’s abuse, we’re not pursuing some geopolitical strategy. We are pursuing a universal, principled effort.
Now, shaming is never the only thing that human rights groups do. We also enlist influential allies to try to put diplomatic or economic pressure on a target government, and I describe this in my book. These are important supplements to the process of shaming.
The fact that governments are selective in their defense of human rights does undermine their credibility, but doesn’t preclude our ability to enlist them, because frankly, nobody is consistent. So, we try to enlist allies where we can, push them to be more principled. But we don’t have a rule that you’ve got to be perfect before we enlist you, because then we’d enlist nobody. We’ve got to be a bit more pragmatic than that and try to maximize pressure on a target government from any credible source that we can find.
This editorial image, captured in Belgrade, Serbia, showcases an array of novelty socks featuring the likenesses of Vladimir Putin, Aleksandr Lukashenko, Viktor Orban, and Donald Trump in Belgrade, Serbia on December 12, 2024. Photo: Jerome Cid.
Trump’s open admiration for autocrats such as Putin, Bolsonaro, Erdogan, and Netanyahu blurs distinctions between democracy and authoritarianism, while also resonating with a global populist style that treats rights as obstacles to “the people’s will.” To what extent has Trump shifted the normative boundaries of US foreign policy on human rights, and what does this mean for the wider contest between populism and rights-based democracy?
Professor Kenneth Roth: First, I would not say that Trump is blurring the distinction between democracy and authoritarianism. He’s simply embracing authoritarianism. I don’t think anybody believes that because Trump embraces Putin, suddenly Putin is a democrat. That’s absurd. Trump, as an aspiring autocrat, admires leaders who have managed to secure autocratic power for themselves. That’s what he does. And we obviously have to push back against that.
This is a bad period for US foreign policy, but it’s not the first time we’ve seen something like this. Think back to the George W. Bush administration, when the so-called global war on terrorism became an excuse not only to support abusive governments but also to engage in severe human rights abuses by the US government itself—systematic torture and the use of Guantanamo for endless detention without trial.
We have seen this flouting, this unwillingness to abide by human rights standards emanating from Washington before. Our job in the human rights movement is to spotlight complicity in human rights violations, or responsibility for them, when the government behaves inconsistently, and to push for it to be even slightly less inconsistent. Fortunately, the American people—and I think this is also true globally—want a more consistent human rights policy.
That’s why spotlighting inconsistency is valuable, because it forces leaders like Trump to pay a political price. When he is seen as aiding and abetting genocide in Gaza, we can already see the effect on US public opinion. People are turning against Israel; they are upset with the unconditional US support for Israel. We’ve seen Trump react to that somewhat already—not sufficiently—but this effort is worthwhile. Ultimately, this is how we can pressure Trump to do the one thing that would end the genocide: suspend or condition massive US arms sales and military aid to Israel until the genocide stops.
Rulings Mean Little Without Government Backing
You’ve argued that “democracy” without rights is easily gamed by “despots masquerading as democrats.” After the ICJ advisory opinion(s) and an emboldened ICC, can international courts still constrain leaders amid intensified lawfare and sanctions against judges/prosecutors? What insulating reforms (treaty, funding, travel protections) matter most?
Professor Kenneth Roth: There’s a lot in that question, so let me try to dissect it a bit. First, when despots masquerade as democrats, it means they still hold periodic elections, but they tilt the playing field so much that the elections become meaningless. This can be a dangerous endeavor. Take Viktor Orban in Hungary or Erdogan in Turkey: they are classic autocrats who still hold competitive elections but with very severe limitations. Orban today faces a serious challenger in Peter Magyar, who is charismatic and has united the opposition. It may not work for him. Erdogan went so far as to lock up his main opponent because, according to the polls, that opponent was going to win. His party had already won the major mayoral elections in Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, and elsewhere. The more an autocrat moves toward a zombie election—that is, one with zero credibility—the more they lose the very legitimacy they seek. That’s what Daniel Ortega did in Nicaragua, Museveni in Uganda, Putin in Russia, and Lukashenko in Belarus. They hold electoral charades, but no one is fooled, and they simply become dictators.
I don’t view international courts as particularly effective against these kinds of autocratic attacks on democracy. The courts are more useful in addressing mass atrocities. For example, with the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the International Criminal Court (ICC) entering the fray in Gaza, and with the ICC charging Putin and four generals for Ukraine, these are important efforts. They may someday lead to actual trials in The Hague. Even short of that, they are incredibly stigmatizing. They mean that these leaders cannot travel to the 125 ICC member states without risking arrest.
Of course, an ICJ judgment or an ICC arrest warrant does not self-execute. They don’t automatically constrain leaders because these Hague-based courts don’t have police forces; they depend on governments for enforcement. That’s always a problem. So, we need governments that claim to uphold the rule of law to act consistently with these rulings. Take the ICJ advisory opinion on the illegality of Israel’s endless occupation: governments should now ensure they do nothing to support that occupation. On the ICC, Trump outrageously imposed sanctions on the ICC prosecutor, the two deputies, and six judges. It’s important, particularly for the European Union, to use its so-called blocking statute to neutralize those sanctions so that judges and prosecutors can continue to access their bank funds and operate normally.
I would also encourage the prosecutor to examine whether this constitutes obstruction of justice—a violation of Article 70 of the Rome Statute—which I think it clearly does. One option would be to actually charge Trump for this blatant interference with an independent institution of justice. So, there is plenty that still can be done, but we shouldn’t deceive ourselves into thinking that international courts, simply by issuing rulings, automatically change the world. They need the backing of governments.
Being a Drug Trafficker Doesn’t Make You a Combatant
In critiquing Trump’s extrajudicial killings of Venezuelan traffickers, you warned of the drift from policing to “war” rules in law enforcement. If such precedents take hold—turning metaphorical wars on drugs or terror into literal grounds for lethal force—what global spillovers do you foresee, and what bright-line doctrines should civil society insist on to prevent their entrenchment?
Professor Kenneth Roth: First, let me explain the two sets of rules that govern the use of lethal force. In war, you’re allowed to shoot combatants on the other side, and unless they’re surrendering or injured and thus out of combat, you can shoot to kill. There is no duty to detain them. By contrast, in law enforcement situations, it’s almost the opposite: lethal force can be used only as a last resort to meet an imminent threat of death or serious physical injury. It is an extremely limited use of lethal force; otherwise, the duty is to arrest and prosecute.
Now, Trump has ignored that distinction. He has declared Venezuelan suspected drug traffickers—people we have no real knowledge about—and has, in three separate incidents, blown up boats and killed those on board, simply on the claim that they were traffickers. But being a drug trafficker does not make you a combatant. There is no war, no armed conflict here. If you believe Trump’s account, these people were committing crimes and should have been arrested and prosecuted. The US Coast Guard is fully capable of interdicting these boats, detaining the suspects, bringing them to Miami or elsewhere, and prosecuting them.
Trump is disregarding the strict law enforcement rules on lethal force by declaring this a “war,” and therefore claiming the right to shoot to kill. That is an incredibly dangerous precedent, because he could label anyone a combatant or terrorist—terms he wrongly uses interchangeably. But even terrorists are criminals who must be prosecuted, not summarily executed. We have to be very careful here, because what’s to stop him from declaring a war on civil society or a war on the political opposition and then justifying killings on that basis?
This is a very dangerous precedent. Even though drug traffickers are unpopular, it is essential to start with the principle: even if they are suspected traffickers, they should not simply be blown up. They have the right to be detained, charged, and prosecuted if the administration’s claims are true. That is why it is crucial not to let metaphorical wars on drugs or terrorism be transformed into literal wars that substitute the narrow rules on lethal force in law enforcement with the much more permissive rules governing armed conflict—which this clearly is not.
How Populist Autocrats Weaponize Minorities to Mask Their Failures
Border Patrol agents monitor an anti-ICE protest in downtown Los Angeles, June 8, 2025. Demonstrators rallied against expanded ICE operations and in support of immigrant rights. Photo: Dreamstime.
You’ve tracked how strongman admiration and majoritarian claims corrode protections for minorities and migrants. Has Trump’s second term normalized an executive theory of unfettered discretion that will outlast him in US foreign policy—and how should allies signal costs early to deter that stickiness?
Professor Kenneth Roth: As you’re suggesting in your question, populist autocrats frequently rally support by demonizing some unpopular minority in their country. It could be immigrants, LGBT people, or Muslims—it varies from country to country. It is very important to push back against this. Typically, they resort to such tactics to divert attention from their lack of a political program that could actually address the economic and political needs of their base. Usually, their base is the ethnic majority working class.
When you see leaders demonizing immigrants or LGBT people, you can almost be certain there is no serious program to help the working class. Trump is a perfect example. He loves to demonize immigrants. Then he puts forward a massive economic plan that cuts taxes for his cronies while eliminating healthcare for many who need it. This doesn’t help the working class—it decimates it.
It’s important to expose this sleight of hand—the use of scapegoating unpopular minorities to distract from harmful economic policies. So, what’s the best way to push back? First and foremost, by defending the rights of these minorities. We cannot pretend that an attack on one unpopular group will stop there. In fact, I often view attacks on LGBT people as the canary in the coal mine for broader assaults on civil society. Those almost always follow.
We need to recognize the path populist autocrats are taking and nip it in the bud. We cannot ignore the early stages just because the victims are unpopular. This is a well-trodden path, and it must be stopped at the outset.
Countering Trump’s Flood-the-Zone Strategy
You’ve described Trump’s “flood-the-zone” strategy—overwhelming opponents and institutions with constant shocks—as a hallmark of autocratic playbooks. From the resistance you’ve observed, what lessons proved transferable to other democracies under stress, and which were context-specific wins?
Professor Kenneth Roth: I’m not sure that Trump’s flood-the-zone strategy is typical. It’s pretty unique to Trump. It especially characterized his first few months in this second term, when there was one outrage after another, day after day, and people were so busy responding to yesterday’s crisis that they didn’t know where to start with today’s. Now it has slowed down a bit, but he continues to use the tactic—finding some new provocation every few days to divert attention from what he had already done.
The key for the targets of these efforts is not to let themselves be overwhelmed but to band together and coordinate their defense. We didn’t always see that in the United States. For example, certain universities, like Columbia, cut deals with the Trump administration, while others have since taken a more principled stand and joined forces. Some big law firms also cut deals, while others chose to fight back in court—and are now winning. Trump has also turned his threats toward civil society, but here too, many large progressive private foundations have banded together, issuing a joint statement declaring that they will not be divided and will fight back collectively.
That kind of collective response—the refusal to let Trump pick off opponents one at a time, as he has done with certain media outlets—is essential. When a powerful government can target one victim at a time, the victims usually lose. But when it faces a coordinated defense, the chances of success rise significantly.
When Sovereignty Becomes Impunity
The flag in front of the International Criminal Court in The Hague, Netherlands on March 27, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.
Trump’s sanctions on the ICC—aimed at blocking investigations of Israel and US officials—highlight how powerful states can obstruct accountability through jurisdictional caveats and intimidation. What does this precedent mean for the enforceability of international criminal law, and what enforcement pathways remain viable to safeguard prosecutorial independence?
Professor Kenneth Roth: When you say jurisdictional caveats, I think what you’re referring to is that the Trump administration, like the US government for much of the last 20-plus years, has objected to the International Criminal Court’s so-called territorial jurisdiction. That is, the court can prosecute anybody who commits a crime on the territory of a member state. Going back to the Clinton administration, the US government hated that because it meant that American military personnel could theoretically be prosecuted if they committed a crime on the territory of a member state. That’s why the US government was so outraged, in the first Trump administration, when the ICC opened an investigation into Afghanistan—because there was fear that Bush-era torturers, many of whose worst crimes were committed there, might be subject to prosecution. Now, that turned out to be more of a theoretical concern, but that’s the territorial jurisdiction the US government has always objected to.
Ironically, when that same territorial jurisdiction was used by the ICC to charge Putin for crimes committed in Ukraine, everything changed. Biden called it justified. Lindsey Graham, the leading Republican senator who had always opposed the ICC, suddenly said, “I’ve changed my mind, we support the ICC now.” He even pushed through a unanimous resolution, and the Senate upheld what the ICC had done. That remained the case until that same territorial jurisdiction was used to charge Netanyahu for crimes committed in Gaza, in Palestine—a member state. Then suddenly it was back to outrage. The US position has been utterly unprincipled. Fortunately, nobody else accepts that. As I mentioned, the US lost its efforts to block territorial jurisdiction in Rome at the outset by a vote of 120 to 7. This is a losing proposition, and the key is for the 125 member states to reaffirm their support for territorial jurisdiction.
Of course, a state should be able to say, in a time of crisis, if our courts are not working—if we can’t prosecute people who commit crimes on our territory ourselves—we should be able to delegate that power to the ICC. That should be an inherent aspect of sovereignty. For the US to say, “Oh, well, because we’re American, we can commit a crime on your territory with impunity”—that’s crazy. If I, as an American citizen, were to go to Brussels and murder somebody, is it an affront to American sovereignty if Belgium prosecutes me? Obviously not. So why would it be an affront to American sovereignty if, under extreme circumstances, Belgium delegates that prosecutorial power to the ICC? This is normal. But the US insists on American exceptionalism when it comes to the rule of law. Nobody buys that, and governments should find ways to push back.
The Vanity Lever: Using Trump’s Ego to Pressure for Human Rights
You’ve suggested Trump’s transactional ego—the “vanity lever”—can sometimes be used to pressure him on rights. How realistic is it to constrain authoritarian choices through vanity appeals, and where should we draw the ethical line between pragmatism and entrenching cynical politics?
Professor Kenneth Roth: What I’ve written about is that if you approach Trump frontally and say, support human rights, he’ll probably look at you and say, what are those? This is not a guy who is going to openly support human rights. But, as I describe in my book, the process of shaming always has to look at the target and figure out what they care about. In Trump’s case, what he cares about is his self-declared reputation as a master negotiator. In his book The Art of the Deal, he defines what he thinks is great about himself.
That gives us some leverage. For one, he wants a Nobel Peace Prize. Fine—you’re not going to get a Nobel Peace Prize by endorsing the mass ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from Gaza. You’ll get the Nobel Peace Prize by actually securing a just peace, including recognition of a Palestinian state. Another effective strategy is to spotlight how Putin in Ukraine and Netanyahu in Gaza are actually bamboozling Trump. They’re manipulating him, they’re playing games with this supposed master negotiator, and Trump looks naive.
He hates that. This is a guy with a fragile ego who doesn’t like criticism. If people are laughing at him, ridicule is horrible when you’re an autocrat. So, I think that provides an opportunity. We’re already seeing some movement by Trump in Ukraine. He has not yet imposed the so-called severe consequences he promised if Putin continues to obstruct ceasefire negotiations, but his rhetoric has become somewhat tougher. In the case of Gaza, we also see Trump distancing himself in certain ways from Netanyahu—for example, rejecting Netanyahu’s false claim that there is no starvation in Gaza, criticizing him for attacking the Hamas negotiators in Qatar, and twice imposing temporary ceasefires.
So, there is some distance there. I think we just need to keep pushing, with the aim of getting Trump to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. I don’t think that’s cynical—it’s simply pragmatic. If that’s what it takes to stop mass atrocities, I’ll do it.
When Ethnic Cleansing Becomes a Defense to Genocide
Destruction in Shejayia, Gaza City, Gaza Strip. Photo: Dreamstime.
You’ve argued that Israel’s actions in Gaza meet the Genocide Convention through killings and life-destroying conditions, even alongside ethnic-cleansing motives. How do you answer critics who say genocidal intent is unproven, and what evidence most strongly supports its inference under current ICJ standards?
Professor Kenneth Roth: If you look at either the extent of the killing or the imposition of conditions of life designed to destroy, in whole or in part, an ethnic or national group, what’s going on in Gaza is clearly genocide. At this point, the clearest example is the imposition of mass starvation, mass deprivation, and the wholesale destruction—today of Gaza City, but overall of all Gaza. The aim, quite clearly, is to make Gaza unlivable so that it becomes “humane” to then force everybody out into Egypt. The ultimate aim here is ethnic cleansing, a supposed solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict by getting rid of the Palestinians—first in Gaza, and then later in the occupied West Bank. That’s clearly what’s going on.
The only real challenge here—you mentioned the International Court of Justice standards—is that the court ruled in the Croatia v. Serbia case more than a decade ago that if you are going to infer genocidal intent from conduct, it has to be the only possible inference. I think that’s a wrong standard. They are going to have to re-examine it, because in effect what they have said is that the motive of ethnic cleansing becomes a defense to genocide, which makes no sense. To prove genocidal intent, the standard should be absolute: are you clearly demonstrating genocidal intent? The fact that there may be a mixed motive—that there may be genocide in the service of something else—is often how genocide takes place.
So, I do think the ICJ will have to revisit its standards. It will have an opportunity in the Gambia v. Myanmar case concerning the Rohingya, where something very similar occurred. The Myanmar army killed, say, 10,000 Rohingya in order to force 730,000 to flee into Bangladesh. That was genocide as a means to mass ethnic cleansing. I hope the court uses that case, which will come first, to re-examine its standards, to find that the conduct does permit an inference of genocidal intent. That would then also apply positively to the case of Gaza.
Criticism of Israel Is Not Antisemitism
Election billboard showing Netanyahu shaking hands with Trump, with the slogan “Netanyahu. Another League,” in Jerusalem on September 16, 2019. Photo: Dreamstime.
You’ve warned that equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism both silences accountability and weakens real protections for Jews. What are the dangers of this conflation, and what concrete standards can help distinguish legitimate criticism from antisemitic incitement without suppressing dissent?
Professor Kenneth Roth: That’s an important question. Let me begin by saying that the problem of antisemitism is an acute one today facing Jews around the world, and it has become much more intense since October 7, 2023. So, this is a genuine problem. But what we’ve seen is that Netanyahu, the Israeli government, and some of its supporters are using charges of antisemitism to try to silence criticism of Israel’s genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza.
That’s a very cynical move, because it cheapens a concept that is badly needed. If people come to see claims of antisemitism as just an effort to change the subject and defend Israel’s inexcusable conduct in Gaza, they will become cynical about antisemitism at the very moment we need it to remain a viable concept. In effect, what Netanyahu and his supporters are doing is sacrificing Jews around the world for the benefit of the Israeli government. They’re basically saying: we’re going to throw Jews worldwide under the bus. Who cares if you face antisemitism? Who cares if we’re cheapening the concept? All we care about is defending the Israeli government. That’s a horrible thing to do—but that, in essence, is what the Netanyahu government is doing.
Now, are there standards on antisemitism? Yes. The standard that legitimizes this cynical approach is the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism. The way it’s been interpreted has lent itself to saying that criticism of Israel, or efforts to demonize Israel, are somehow antisemitic.
There are two far superior definitions of antisemitism: the Jerusalem Declaration and the Nexus Document. The reason they are superior is that they make explicit that mere criticism of Israeli misconduct is not antisemitic. They define antisemitism in positive terms similarly, but they also include negative examples to make clear that antisemitism should never be weaponized to shield Israeli misconduct.
So, if the concern is truly antisemitism, people should adopt the Jerusalem Declaration or the Nexus Document. But if the concern is simply defending Israel while throwing Jews around the world to their fate, then go with the IHRA definition.
“Never Again” Means Never Again for All
You argue that Israel’s invocation of “never again” and its Holocaust halo have been weaponized to justify present atrocities. How has this complicated recognition of genocidal conduct, and how can we honor historical victimhood without letting it serve as a blank check—while restoring legal clarity around proportionality and civilian protection?
Professor Kenneth Roth: As you suggest, the Israeli government, much like the Rwandan government, cites the Holocaust for Jews and the Rwandan genocide to suggest that the current government is somehow above it all. The logic is: how could the victims of genocide, in turn, commit mass atrocities? Obviously, that’s illogical, but they use the argument implicitly to try to defend the indefensible.
For me, “never again” doesn’t mean never again except for Israel, never again except for Rwanda. It means never again for anybody. Part of the advantage the Israeli government has is that when people think about genocide, they tend to focus on the Holocaust or the Rwandan genocide, where the aim, after a certain point, was to kill every Jew or every Tutsi that could be found.
But if you read the Genocide Convention—the treaty that defines genocide and that many governments have ratified—genocide can be aimed at destroying a group in whole, as in the Holocaust or Rwanda, or in part. This is where the Holocaust and Rwandan examples can mislead, because it is also genocide if you target part of a group, either for killing or through conditions of life that bring about their partial destruction. That is what defines Gaza today. The Israeli government is not trying to kill every single Palestinian. But it is trying to kill enough Palestinians and deprive them with enough severity that they are forced to flee into Egypt. Genocide with an intent to destroy a group in part is what’s really going on here. The Holocaust leads us astray because that’s not what it was about. So, we need to read the Genocide Convention as written and recognize that the Holocaust alone does not define genocide. There are other forms—such as the one playing out in Gaza today.
Past Genocides Do Not Justify Present Atrocities
And lastly, you’ve drawn parallels between Kagame’s Rwanda and Netanyahu’s Israel in weaponizing past victimhood to justify present crimes. How can the human rights community dismantle such narratives without denying past genocides, and which accountability tools—aid conditionality, arms suspensions, or regional pressure—have proven most effective against such impunity politics?
Professor Kenneth Roth: As I mentioned, both Netanyahu and Kagame play on past genocide to divert attention from their current mass atrocities—Netanyahu in Gaza, and Kagame through both his repression at home and, most acutely, his invasion of Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo through his own forces as well as the proxy M23 rebel group.
The goal of the human rights community is obviously not to deny the Holocaust or the Rwandan genocide. These are facts, these are horrific episodes in human history. But the point is to say: “Yes, they happened, but they don’t excuse present abuses.” So, we have to carefully document what’s happening in Congo and in Gaza and press for real pressure to stop it.
That pressure can and should include economic measures. Sadly, the European Union—while many of its members are recognizing a Palestinian state—has yet to suspend Israel’s trade benefits, despite vows from Commission President von der Leyen to do so soon. In eastern Congo, back in 2012, a similar Rwandan invasion via the M23 was stopped in its tracks when the US and British governments told Kagame they would cut off aid unless he withdrew. Within days, the M23 crumbled. Today, that isn’t happening. Trump cut a deal allowing Rwanda to stay and exploit the minerals.
So, we need to look at what has worked in the past, namely intense economic pressure. I would like to see the International Criminal Court (ICC)—which has already acted in part in Gaza—do much more and also extend its action to eastern Congo. It has done so in the past, but not with respect to this current invasion. Plenty of steps remain available to help rein in Kagame and Netanyahu and to stop their misuse of past atrocities as an excuse for committing new ones today.
Please cite as: ECPS Staff. (2025). “Virtual Workshop Series — Session 2: The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland.” European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). September 19, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/rp00114
On September 18, 2025, ECPS held the second session of the Virtual Workshop Series — “We, the People” and the Future of Democracy. Chaired by Professor Mavis Maclean (Oxford), the panel examined Poland’s democratic trajectory through themes of patriotism, constitutional conflict, human rights, and representation. Highlights included Professor Joanna Kurczewska’s call to recover Solidarity’s inclusive legacy, Dr. Kamil Joński’s analysis of Poland’s constitutional “quagmire,” Professor Małgorzata Fuszara’s exploration of contested women’s and minority rights, and Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reframing of judicial representation. Discussants added comparative and moral-philosophical perspectives. The session concluded that Poland’s experience reflects global struggles: reclaiming inclusive traditions, defending institutions, and embedding rights remain vital for democratic renewal.
Reported by ECPS Staff
On September 18, 2025, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), in collaboration with Oxford University, convened the second session of its Virtual Workshop Series — ‘We, the People’ and the Future of Democracy: Interdisciplinary Approaches. The session, titled “The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland,” brought together leading scholars to examine the Polish case as a lens into broader struggles over democracy, representation, and rights. Chaired by Professor Mavis Maclean (University of Oxford), the event highlighted Poland’s experience of post-1989 transformation, the contested legacy of Solidarity, constitutional polarization, and ongoing battles over women’s and minority rights.
Following the introduction of the programme and participants by Reka Koleszar on behalf of ECPS, Prof. Mavis Maclean, CBE (St Hilda’s College, University of Oxford) opened by situating the discussion within a wider European context. Reflecting on Britain’s surge of far-right populism, she posed a dilemma: should mass populist movements be regarded as authentic expressions of civic grievance, or as dangerous forces of hatred and violence? She expressed hope that the Polish experience could illuminate how democracies might redirect discontent toward renewal rather than demagoguery.
The first presentation, delivered by Professor Jacek Kurczewski on behalf of his wife, the absent Professor Joanna Kurczewska (Polish Academy of Sciences), revisited her long-standing work on Polish patriotism. Drawing on the legacy of Solidarity and the role of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, she argued that inclusive, pluralist patriotism once united workers, intellectuals, and clergy, but that its legacy has since weakened. She warned that today’s exclusionary populism thrives on the failure to sustain that inclusive vision.
Dr. Kamil Jonski (University of Łódź) then addressed Poland’s constitutional polarization. His paper, “Single Text, Clashing Meanings,” traced how the 1997 Constitution, from its inception, was a battleground of rival axiologies. While liberals view it as a rights-based framework, conservatives interpret it through a lens of sovereignty and morality. The 2015 constitutional crisis, resulting in right-wing packing of the Tribunal, offered opportunity to impose one of those visions, and produced a constitutional quagmire with disagreement not only on values, but also legitimacy of institutions (including top judicial bodies).
Professor Malgorzata Fuszara(University of Warsaw) explored the contested trajectory of human rights. She distinguished between broad consensus on universal rights after 1989 and the divisive politics of women’s and minority rights. Abortion restrictions, stalled LGBTQ reforms, and uneven protections illustrate enduring resistance. Yet she also highlighted progress, including the redefinition of rape law and gender quotas in parliament, underscoring the unfinished task of fully integrating women’s and minority rights into Poland’s human rights framework.
Finally, Professor Jacek Kurczewski (University of Warsaw) presented his own paper on representation and the rule of law. He challenged populist claims that only elected politicians embody the nation, arguing that judges also represent the nation through law, oath, and culture. Reviving lay participation in justice, he suggested, could counteract populist narratives and strengthen judicial legitimacy.
The discussion was enriched by three international discussants. Dr.Magdalena Solska(University of Fribourg) highlighted the need to revisit the legacy of Solidarity for democratic resilience and probed the paradox of women’s electoral behavior. Professor Barry Sullivan (Loyola University Chicago) compared Poland’s constitutional struggles to US debates, raising questions about the gap between cultural appeals and economic policy. Professor Krzysztof Motyka(Catholic University of Lublin) drew attention to the moral-philosophical dimensions of rights discourse, from Father Popiełuszko’s defense of life to the linguistic shift from civic to human rights.
Together, the session illuminated Poland as a microcosm of global struggles: how inclusive traditions are eroded by polarized politics, how constitutions fracture under competing axiologies, and how rights remain contested terrain.
Professor Mavis Maclean: Populism — Authentic Civic Voice or Dangerous Force of Hatred?
Participants of nationalist and anti-Islamic demonstration organized by far-right organisations use smoke races, hold banners in Warsaw, Poland on April 10, 2016. Photo: Wiola Wiaderek.
Mavis Maclean opened her contribution by emphasizing the significance of the discussion, describing it as both urgent and only just beginning to receive the attention it deserves. Reflecting on a recent conversation with a colleague who asked about the figure of Tommy Robinson, Maclean situated him within a broader European surge of far-right populism rooted in anxieties over immigration. She recalled that even British prime ministers had spoken of the country as becoming an “island of strangers.” For Maclean, this illustrates how immigration has become a focal point for rising populist energies that have caught established institutions unprepared.
She posed a central dilemma: should populist movements be valued as authentic expressions of civic sentiment, or feared as destabilizing forces that can slip into violence and hatred? Drawing contrasts with more hopeful movements in other contexts, Maclean warned that in Britain today the populist surge appears more threatening than transformative. Traditional party structures have weakened, with the Conservatives in decline and figures such as Nigel Farage and the Reform Party gaining visibility on the far right. Maclean expressed hope that the day’s presentations would help identify constructive responses—ways to reinforce the rule of law, rebuild political trust, and channel popular discontent into democratic renewal rather than demagoguery.
Joanna Kurczewska: “Varieties of Polish Patriotism: Experience of Solidarity 1980–1989 in the Context of History and Anthropology of Ideas”
Solidarity logo on a flag during an anti-government demonstration, June 30, 2011, in Warsaw, Poland. Solidarity, a Polish trade union federation, was founded on August 31, 1980, at the Gdańsk Shipyard under the leadership of Lech Wałęsa. Photo: Tomasz Bidermann.
Because of illness, Professor Joanna Kurczewska (Polish Academy of Sciences) could not attend the panel in person. Her paper was instead delivered by her husband, Professor Jacek Kurczewski (University of Warsaw). His presentation offered a rich reconstruction of Kurczewska’s long-term research on the intellectual and cultural legacies of Polish patriotism, with particular attention to the Solidarity movement (1980–1989).
Kurczewski opened with reflections on the difficulty of translating concepts such as “patriotism” and “nationalism” across linguistic and cultural contexts. In Poland, patriotism carries largely positive connotations, while nationalism is often viewed with suspicion. By contrast, in English-language scholarship “nationalism” is frequently a neutral, technical category. Kurczewska’s analysis insists that these terms cannot be divorced from their cultural histories.
The paper revisited her pioneering study from the 1990s, based on interviews with 53 Polish politicians in the early years of the Third Republic. Surprisingly, many of them—whether from the former Communist Party or from the anti-communist opposition—downplayed Solidarity as a living source of political ideas. While acknowledging its historical importance, they treated it as a closed chapter rather than a repertoire for democratic renewal.
From Solidarity to Liberal Patriotism
Today, in a deeply polarized Poland divided between Law and Justice (PiS) and the Civic Coalition, Kurczewska argues it is essential to recall the pluralism and inclusivity that defined Solidarity’s original ethos. Born from the Interfactory Strike Committee in 1980, Solidarity united workers, engineers, intellectuals, and Catholic clergy under a shared platform, symbolized by the charismatic figure of Lech Wałęsa and the Black Madonna emblem on his lapel.
A key focus of Kurczewska’s analysis is the role of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, the Catholic priest murdered by communist security services in 1984. Through his “Masses for the Homeland,” Popiełuszko created spaces that were both liturgical and profoundly civic. These gatherings became cultural products of resistance: religious rituals infused with democratic, republican, and Romantic ideals of truth, justice, courage, and solidarity. Importantly, they were inclusive, drawing believers and non-believers alike, and forging bonds between workers and intellectuals. In this, Kurczewska identifies a crucial anthropological dimension of patriotism—as lived practice and social performance, not just political ideology.
Popiełuszko’s sermons, she argues, advanced a form of “liberal patriotism.” Unlike traditional Polish Romantic nationalism, his vision insisted that the national community must guarantee individual autonomy and human rights. This creative redefinition of patriotism during late communism exemplifies how cultural and religious traditions can be reinterpreted to support democratic values.
Enigmatic Representation and Forgotten Legacies
Kurczewski then turned to the transition of the 1990s, when post-communist social democrats successfully reinserted themselves into politics. By appropriating elements of national tradition, they achieved electoral victories, while radical nationalists were marginalized to the political fringe. Yet, as Kurczewska warns, this era of “inclusive politics” has given way to a new fragmentation. Today, figures from the far-right fringe not only gain parliamentary seats but even sit in the European Parliament, bringing anti-Semitic, xenophobic, and anti-European rhetoric into the mainstream.
The conclusion of the paper introduced the notion of “enigmatic representation.” Kurczewska observed that Polish politicians of the 1990s, whether post-communist or from the Solidarity camp, tended to speak in the name of “the nation” or “society” without genuine interest in citizen voices. Society was treated as an object to be mobilized rather than a subject of representation. She suggested that this top-down approach may have sown long-term frustration, paving the way for today’s populist politics, which relies on exclusive language, sharp polarization, and appeals to younger generations through anti-migrant and anti-EU narratives.
The paper ultimately invites us to reconsider Solidarity not as a nostalgic memory, but as a resource for rebuilding democratic culture. Its pluralism, inclusive patriotism, and agonistic rather than antagonistic style of communication offer lessons for today’s Poland, where politics risks sliding into exclusionary populism. Kurczewska’s anthropological lens underscores that patriotism, when rooted in lived practices of solidarity, can remain a democratic force rather than a vehicle of division.
Delivered with warmth and intellectual care by Professor Jacek Kurczewski, the paper stood as both a historical analysis and a contemporary warning: Poland’s democratic future may depend on recovering the forgotten legacies of inclusive patriotism forged in the crucible of Solidarity.
Dr. Kamil Joński: “Single Text, Clashing Meanings: Political Polarization, Constitutional Axiology and the Polish Constitutional Quagmire”
Dr. Kamil Joński’s presentation offered a penetrating exploration of the Polish constitutional crisis, reframing it as not merely a legal or institutional dispute but as a struggle over political meaning, legitimacy, and the cultural axiology of constitutionalism itself. His central thesis was clear: although the 1997 Constitution has become an accepted normative text in Poland, its interpretation has fractured along deep political, cultural, and religious cleavages. This fragmentation has led to what Dr. Joński called a “constitutional quagmire,” in which the same constitutional text sustains radically divergent visions of democracy, the rule of law, and the legitimacy of the judicial bodies to be recognized as a court of law.
Historical Cleavages and the Rise of Polarization
Dr. Joński began by situating the problem historically. The first decade after the fall of communism was dominated by what scholars call the post-communist cleavage: the political opposition between former regime actors and the dissident opposition. Yet this cleavage reached exhaustion by the early 2000s.
By 2001, two new parties emerged from the younger generation of anti-communists: Civic Platform (PO), founded by Donald Tusk, and Law and Justice (PiS), founded by the Kaczyński brothers. Since 2005, Dr. Joński argued, the rivalry between these two parties has organized not only political life but also the constitutional order itself.
The Fragile Legitimacy of the 1997 Constitution
Dr. Joński turned next to the peculiar circumstances of the 1997 Constitution. Although it has endured for nearly three decades, its legitimacy has always been contested. Drafted by a parliament with an artificial post-communist majority—produced by electoral reform rather than a genuine social mandate—it was opposed by the Christian right, which offered an alternative “citizens’ draft” of the constitution. Finally, the constitution was approved in a referendum by the majority of 53.5% of voters on a 43% turnout. According to its critics, this meant less than one-quarter of eligible Poles endorsed the Constitution, labeling it not only “post-communist” but also “a minority constitution.” Yet, this contested document functioned relatively effectively for nearly 20 years, providing a framework for governance, EU accession, and steady economic development.
The 2015 Break: From Amendment to Interpretation
This balance collapsed in 2015. For the first time since democratization, one party—PiS—secured both a single-party parliamentary majority and the presidency. This unique constellation of power made it possible to embark on what retired Constitutional Tribunal justice Professor M. Wyrzykowski described as a “war against the Constitution.” Crucially, PiS lacked the supermajorities needed for formal constitutional amendment. Instead, it turned to institutional capture of the Constitutional Tribunal as a means of constitutional change through interpretation.
To this end PiS embarked what Dr. Jonski called “purposeful top-down de-legitimization” of the Tribunal. Initially respected across the political spectrum, and even praised for rulings sympathetic to Catholic doctrine in issues like abortion, the Tribunal was rapidly delegitimized through propaganda campaigns. branding it as an enemy of “the people.” Once PiS nominees assumed control over the Tribunal, it became what Professor Wojciech Sadurski has termed a “governmental enabler.” For PiS supporters, the Tribunal was re-legitimized as a defender of “the people” against liberal elites.
The Long Shadow of 1997
One of the most striking elements of Dr. Joński’s presentation was his demonstration of the continuity between the 1997 referendum and contemporary politics. Using electoral and survey data, he showed that nearly 45% of the variance in the 2025 presidential runoff could be explained by voting patterns from the 1997 constitutional referendum. In other words, attitudes toward the Constitution nearly three decades earlier are still visible on the Poland’s political map.
This persistence suggests that disputes about the Constitution are not only institutional but deeply cultural, rooted in long-standing divisions between religiously practicing conservatives and more secular, liberal constituencies.
Survey Evidence: Religion, Memory, and Constitutional Identity
Dr. Joński enriched his argument examining data from the late 1990s through the 2010s, to trac how different groups answered the questions related to the Constitution. Due to the shifts in Polish political landscape, he grouped respondents according to two criteria: self-identification on the left-right scale and religious service attendance.
In 1997, opposition to the constitution was heavily concentrated among respondents identifying with political right and declaring weekly service attendance. By 2017, very few Poles openly admitted to opposing the Constitution twenty years earlier—evidence that it had been normalized as a “fact of life.” Yet this apparent acceptance concealed ongoing dissatisfaction. Practicing right-wing voters most frequently expressed the strongest desire for constitutional change.
In 1997, opposition was heavily concentrated among practicing Catholics on the right. By 2017, very few Poles openly admitted to opposing the Constitution—evidence that it had been normalized as a “fact of life.” Yet this apparent acceptance concealed ongoing dissatisfaction. Practicing right-wing voters consistently expressed the strongest desire for constitutional change, arguing that the text was ill-suited to Poland’s needs.
When constitutional amendment proved politically unattainable, these constituencies turned to reinterpretation through institutional capture. This strategy was visible in survey responses during the height of the Tribunal crisis: when asked whether they supported the Tribunal or the government, practicing right-wing voters typically sided with the latter, despite the Tribunal’s earlier record of religiously sympathetic rulings on abortion, “blasphemy” and “conscientious objection.
Competing Constitutional Axiologies
The idea of saturating constitutional text with values is offered by legal doctrines favored on the political left (R. Dworkin’s 1996 “moral reading” of constitution) as well as right (A. Vermeule’s 2022 “Common Good Constitutionalism”).
At the heart of Dr. Joński’s analysis is the idea that such process occurred in Poland, and on both sides of axiological conflict. Thus, Poland faces a paradox: the Constitution can be shared as a text, yet it divides substantively as a contested source of meaning. Each camp projects its values onto the same text, producing parallel constitutional orders.
The Dual-Track Constitutional Order
After 2015 constitutional crisis and its implications, the situation is even worse, as both sides disagree not only on axiological meaning of the constitutional provisions, but also on the institutions legitimized to resolve the disputes (the legality of judicial appointment and the very status of the court of law). Today, Poland operates under what Dr. Joński called a dual-track constitutional regime.
Conclusion: A Constitution without Consensus
In closing, Dr. Joński emphasized the paradoxical nature of Polish constitutionalism. The 1997 Constitution, once derided as illegitimate, has become broadly accepted as a normative framework. Yet this acceptance has not produced consensus. Instead, it has given rise to clashing interpretations, each claiming fidelity to the text while advancing divergent value systems, visions of democracy, sovereignty, and rights.
This “single text, clashing meanings” dynamic illustrates the fragility of constitutional democracy in polarized societies. Poland’s experience suggests that legitimacy is not only a matter of formal adoption but of sustained cultural consensus. Absent that, constitutions risk becoming battlegrounds of identity, leaving societies vulnerable to constitutional crises.
Prof. Małgorzata Fuszara:“Protection of Human Rights and Its Implications for Women’s and Minority Rights”
Women’s strike and protest in Warsaw, Poland, against the abortion ban and the legal changes restricting the right to appeal fines or penalties. Photo: Eryk Losik.
Professor Małgorzata Fuszara delivered a nuanced and historically grounded analysis of the trajectory of human rights in Poland, with particular attention to the contested arenas of women’s rights and minority rights. Her paper carefully distinguished between two categories: the general, universal human rights that gained wide acceptance after 1989, and the more divisive domains of gender equality and minority protection, which remain highly politicized.
Human Rights under Authoritarianism and the Democratic Breakthrough
Professor Fuszara began with a reminder of the authoritarian context before 1989. For half a century, fundamental rights such as freedom of speech, freedom of association, the right to demonstrate, and the freedom to travel abroad were absent or severely restricted. Even trivial matters, such as the minutes of academic meetings, required approval by the censor. Public gatherings of more than five people needed official authorization. Passports were withheld and permission was required for every trip abroad.
Such restrictions underscored how authoritarian regimes can comprehensively curtail freedoms. Against this backdrop, the democratic breakthrough of 1989 brought a remarkable consensus: across the political spectrum, there was broad agreement on the need to enshrine fundamental rights. Drafting regulations for assemblies, for instance, was not a divisive issue. The recognition of basic human rights became part of Poland’s democratic DNA, at least at the level of principle.
From Consensus to Contestation
Yet Professor Fuszara emphasized that the consensus around general human rights did not extend to the rights of women and minorities. Here, division emerged immediately after 1989. The most striking example was reproductive rights. Under communism, abortion had been legal since 1956, earlier than in much of Western Europe. Generations of Polish women grew accustomed to reproductive autonomy. Thus, it came as a shock when the very first legislative proposals in the post-1989 parliament sought to introduce a total ban on abortion.
This debate revealed deep internal fractures. Even within Solidarność, the emblem of democratic opposition, the leadership supported abortion restrictions, while the women’s section opposed them. Since then, reproductive rights have remained one of the most divisive issues in Polish politics. Attempts to tighten abortion laws, particularly through Constitutional Tribunal rulings, repeatedly sparked mass mobilizations. The so-called “Black Protests” drew waves of young women—and many men—onto the streets, reshaping electoral patterns. Yet despite these mobilizations, restrictive laws remain in place, making abortion a symbol of both resistance and regression in contemporary Poland.
Minority Rights: Uneven Trajectories
Turning to minority rights, Professor Fuszara offered a differentiated assessment. The situation of ethnic and national minorities is relatively stable and in line with European Union standards. Legal provisions facilitate their parliamentary representation, and although disputes persist over which groups qualify as national minorities, these are largely managed within democratic debate.
In contrast, sexual minorities remain excluded from full equality. Efforts to introduce marriage equality or even civil partnerships have repeatedly failed. Professor Fuszara recalled attempts made over a decade ago, including during her own tenure as government plenipotentiary for equality, which were ultimately defeated. Although new proposals occasionally emerge, expectations remain low, and Poland continues to lag behind Western Europe in this field.
Professor Fuszara also stressed that formal legal guarantees often diverge from political practice. She recalled episodes when women protesting abortion restrictions faced harsh police repression, highlighting how authorities can undermine rights through coercive enforcement. These instances illustrate the fragility of rights protections in polarized contexts: while the principles of human rights may enjoy rhetorical consensus, their application can be obstructed by partisan or authoritarian impulses.
Recent Advances and Sources of Optimism
Despite these challenges, Professor Fuszara pointed to important achievements. Poland has ratified the Istanbul Convention, strengthening protections against gender-based violence. A major legal reform last month redefined rape in line with feminist jurisprudence, foregrounding the perspective of the victim for the first time. This marked an overdue recognition of the principle that women’s rights are human rights.
She also highlighted the adoption of gender quotas in electoral lists in 2011. Poland is, alongside states of the former Yugoslavia, one of the few post-communist countries to institutionalize such measures. As a result, women now hold slightly over 30% of parliamentary seats—a modest but significant improvement compared to the past, and higher than in several neighboring states, such as Hungary, where women constitute just 15% of parliament.
Nevertheless, Professor Fuszara closed with a sober reflection. Under communism, gender equality had been proclaimed as a principle, but often only formally. Post-1989, this principle was never fully reframed within the human rights paradigm. The slogan “women’s rights are human rights,” first articulated globally at the Vienna Conference in 1993 and reaffirmed in Beijing in 1995, still struggles to gain full resonance in Poland. For many politicians, gender equality remains a marginal issue, subordinated to party competition or cultural conservatism.
Conclusion
Professor Fuszara’s presentation revealed a paradox at the heart of Polish democracy. On one hand, there is a strong, cross-party commitment to universal human rights, born of the shared memory of authoritarian restrictions. On the other, women’s rights and minority rights continue to be arenas of deep contestation, exposing the limits of consensus and the persistence of patriarchal and exclusionary norms.
Her reflections traced both regression—visible in abortion restrictions and stalled progress on LGBTQ rights—and genuine advances, such as the redefinition of rape and the implementation of gender quotas. Above all, she insisted that rights cannot be taken for granted. They must be continuously defended, reframed, and expanded. The challenge remains to integrate women’s rights and minority rights fully into the fabric of human rights, so that they are no longer treated as exceptions but as integral to the democratic promise made in 1989.
Professor Jacek Kurczewski: “Who Speaks for Whom: The Issue of Representation in the Struggle for the Rule of Law”
Modern building of the Supreme Court of Poland in Warsaw, photographed on January 7, 2020. Photo: Dreamstime.
In his presentation, Professor Jacek Kurczewski explored the contested notion of representation at the heart of Poland’s ongoing rule-of-law conflict. Framing the problem through both political sociology and constitutional analysis, he examined how populist rhetoric weaponizes the formula “we, the people” against the judiciary, and how judges themselves may legitimately be understood as representatives of the nation.
Populism, “the People,” and Judicial Autonomy
Professor Kurczewski began by situating the debate in the populist appropriation of democracy. Leaders of the ruling Law and Justice party (PiS) claimed to embody the authentic will of the people, portraying judicial independence as an undemocratic obstacle. Judges, they argued, were relics of communist privilege or elitist guardians hostile to popular sovereignty. The rhetoric was often vulgar—accusations ranged from petty theft to corruption—but also grounded in a doctrinal attack: the judiciary was accused of claiming sovereignty for itself, elevating constitutional interpretation above the elected parliament.
This framing, Professor Kurczewski noted, created a false dichotomy: elected representatives as the sole voice of the people versus judges cast as self-appointed elites. The populist narrative ignored the constitutional and cultural grounds by which judges themselves exercise representative authority.
The Judiciary and Competing Logics of Representation
Drawing on Hanna Pitkin’s classic theory of representation—the idea of representing what is not physically present— Professor Kurczewski argued that judges too represent the nation. They do so not through electoral mandate but through their role as guardians of law, which is itself a core element of national culture. The Polish constitution, party manifestos, and civic tradition define the nation as a community of culture, history, and shared values. Law, he emphasized, is inseparable from this community; to apply and protect it is to embody the nation’s identity.
Judicial oaths reinforce this function. Each Polish judge swears to serve the Republic faithfully, uphold the law, and dispense justice impartially and with dignity. In this way, judges symbolically—and practically—act as representatives of the nation’s legal and moral order, even though they are not chosen by direct election.
Professor Kurczewski highlighted that the tension is not between representation and non-representation but between different forms of representation. Parliamentarians, under the free mandate principle inherited from Burkean tradition, represent the nation as a whole rather than their constituencies. Judges, by contrast, represent justice and the legal order. Both are indirect vehicles of sovereignty, as Article 4 of the Polish Constitution affirms that power derives from the nation and is exercised either directly or through representatives. Thus, the confrontation between politicians and judges is not about legitimacy per se, but about clashing logics of legitimacy—electoral versus legal-constitutional.
Professor Kurczewski also lamented the decline of lay judges in Poland since 1989. Once a significant institution allowing citizens to participate directly in adjudication, lay judges were marginalized in the transition era as professional judges sought to elevate the dignity and autonomy of the judiciary. This, he argued, was a missed opportunity. Strengthening lay participation could provide a democratic bridge between the judiciary and society, countering populist claims that judges are isolated elites.
Conclusion
Professor Kurczewski concluded that defending judicial independence cannot rely solely on institutional autonomy. It must also involve rethinking representation in more inclusive ways. Recognizing judges as representatives of the nation—albeit in a distinct mode from elected politicians—undermines populist accusations of illegitimacy. At the same time, reinforcing lay participation in courts could help reconnect the judiciary with society, blunting populist attacks and deepening democratic legitimacy.
Ultimately, the struggle for the rule of law in Poland is not only a battle over institutions but also over meanings of representation itself. Who speaks for the nation—the politicians who claim its voice, or the judges who embody its law? Professor Kurczewski’s intervention suggested that the answer must acknowledge both, while resisting the authoritarian temptation to silence one in the name of the other.
Discussants’ Contributions
Dr. Magdalena Solska (University of Fribourg)
The first discussant, Dr. Magdalena Solska, Assistant Professor at the University of Fribourg, opened the commentary session by reflecting on the richness of the panel and the uniqueness of the Polish case. She approached her role primarily through questions and reflections designed to stimulate further debate.
Turning first to Prof. Joanna Kurczewska’s paper on Polish patriotism and the legacy of Solidarity, Dr. Solska praised the author’s use of the concept of resistance rather than mere opposition. She underlined that in political science, resistance carries a moral and normative dimension highly relevant to understanding the Solidarity movement of the 1980s. Yet she also raised a challenging question: was it perhaps inevitable that the legacy of Solidarity would weaken in the face of the unprecedented pressures of post-communist transformation—social, political, and especially economic? In her view, the turbulence of systemic change may have eroded the sense of national community that Solidarity once embodied. If so, she suggested, today’s polarized context may offer an opportune moment to revisit that legacy and ask how it could contribute to democratic resilience.
On Dr. Kamil Joński’s analysis of constitutional polarization, Dr. Solska praised the presentation as resourceful and empirically rich, especially in its reconstruction of the long and contentious constitution-making process of the 1990s. She welcomed the reminder that Poland’s constitutional reality long preceded its final text, making the process unique compared with other post-communist countries. At the same time, she offered constructive critiques. First, she encouraged Dr. Joński to state his research question more clearly at the outset, as the central argument—explaining the enduring loyalty of PiS’s electorate—only emerged at the end. Second, she questioned his use of “liberal-democratic” versus “religious-traditional” categories, suggesting that the latter can also be democratic and that alternative labels might better capture the cleavage. Finally, she argued that the desire for constitutional change among practicing conservatives should not automatically be viewed as negative, given the ambiguities of the 1997 constitution. She encouraged deeper engagement with the role of political polarization, which in her view desensitizes electorates to rule-bending practices by their preferred parties.
With respect to Professor Małgorzata Fuszara’s presentation on human rights, women, and minorities, Dr. Solska raised a probing question about electoral behavior: why do significant numbers of women in Poland vote for PiS, often in higher proportions than for the liberal Civic Coalition? This paradox, she suggested, requires careful sociological and political analysis.
Finally, commenting on Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reflections on representation and the rule of law, Dr. Solska asked how, in a context of deep political polarization, the rule of law might realistically be restored or strengthened. Since the rule of law presupposes broad consensus, she expressed skepticism about whether such consensus is achievable in today’s climate and pressed Professor Kurczewski to consider not if but how this renewal might occur.
Her remarks set the tone for an engaged and critical discussion, highlighting conceptual nuances, empirical puzzles, and the pressing challenge of polarization across all contributions.
Professor Barry Sullivan (Loyola University Chicago School of Law)
The second discussant, Professor Barry Sullivan of Loyola University Chicago, opened his remarks by situating the Polish experience within a comparative perspective shaped by his own work on American constitutionalism. Noting that he often asks his students to grapple with the challenges of interpreting and implementing a constitution written more than two centuries ago, he found Dr. Joński’s analysis of Poland’s constitutional trajectory particularly illuminating. He highlighted the striking continuity Dr. Joński traced between the contested adoption of the 1997 Constitution and today’s disputes over its meaning, emphasizing how early legitimacy deficits continue to reverberate decades later.
Drawing from the US context, Professor Sullivan posed a pointed question: to what extent does the Polish case reveal a disconnect between cultural politics and economic interests similar to that visible in the United States? He observed that in contemporary American politics, ruling parties often cultivate loyalty by appealing to socially conservative values—on issues such as abortion, marriage equality, and education—while simultaneously advancing deregulatory or pro-capitalist policies that may not materially benefit the same constituencies. He asked whether a similar disjunction between value-based appeals and economic outcomes can be seen in Poland’s current political landscape.
Turning to Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reflections on judicial independence and representation, Professor Sullivan drew an instructive comparison with the US Supreme Court. In recent years, he noted, the Court has increasingly aligned itself with the executive branch, issuing consequential rulings at great speed and often without reasoned explanations. This, he stressed, departs from the traditional American ideal of the rule of law, which requires not only judgments but transparent justifications that anchor decisions in legal reasoning rather than political expediency. Professor Sullivan thus invited further discussion of whether Poland’s embattled judiciary faces parallel challenges, and how judges can maintain legitimacy in the face of politicized attacks.
Finally, Professor Sullivan engaged with Professor Fuszara’s presentation on human rights, women, and minority rights, drawing an analogy to the US struggle over civil society and historical memory. He noted that in Poland, as Professor Fuszara described, the media and public institutions became contested arenas after 1989. Today, in the US, similar dynamics are unfolding as political actors attempt to control not only state institutions but also cultural ones once assumed to be apolitical, such as museums, the Smithsonian, or even the National Park Service. He cited recent reports of efforts to purge references to slavery and racial injustice from park materials, framing this as part of a broader strategy to politicize civil society and restrict critical narratives.
In closing, Professor Sullivan praised the panel for offering a rich comparative perspective on constitutionalism, human rights, and political polarization. While acknowledging his questions as those of an outsider, he emphasized how Poland’s experience provides important lessons for scholars and practitioners wrestling with the fragility of the rule of law in democracies old and new.
Professor Krzysztof Motyka (John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin)
The third discussant, Professor Krzysztof Motyka, offered reflections that bridged the three presentations while drawing on historical, theological, and sociological perspectives. He began with a commentary on the legacy of Blessed Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, situating him not only as a figure of anti-communist resistance but also as an early defender of human rights. Professor Motyka underscored that Popiełuszko consistently emphasized the sanctity of life “from conception,” opposing the liberal abortion laws of communist Poland. While not advocating punitive measures, he insisted that the Church’s responsibility lay in both proclaiming the sanctity of life and ensuring social and state support for women in difficult circumstances. Professor Motyka reminded the audience that Popiełuszko remains venerated as a patron of reconciliation and respect for life, symbolized by his inclusion in national commemorations. He also recalled Cardinal Glemp’s 1988 caution that protecting the unborn must not become a tool of political bargaining, highlighting the tension between moral conviction and political instrumentalization.
Turning to Professor Fuszara’s presentation, Professor Motyka focused on the linguistic and conceptual transformation in Poland’s rights discourse. Before 1989, he noted, academic and legal circles predominantly used the language of “civil” or “civic rights,” tied to the framework of citizenship and the state. Only in the late 1980s did the universalist vocabulary of “human rights” gain prominence, a shift that reflected broader philosophical and political change. The adoption of this language after the democratic transition, he argued, signaled a recognition that rights derive from human dignity and nature, not merely from state recognition.
Finally, commenting on Dr. Joński’s analysis of constitutional polarization, Professor Motyka provided a personal reflection. While uncertain of his own vote in the 1997 constitutional referendum, he recalled that many Poles who opposed the text did so less for substantive reasons than for historical or emotional ones. For some, it seemed a bitter irony that a parliament dominated by post-communists was entrusted with drafting and adopting the nation’s new constitution—a task many believed should have belonged to the democratic opposition. For these voters, rejecting the Constitution was less about legal content and more about expressing a sense of historical injustice.
Professor Motyka concluded by thanking the panel, stressing that such interdisciplinary dialogue helps illuminate the deeper moral, cultural, and symbolic dimensions of Poland’s constitutional struggles.
Concluding Assessments by Professor Mavis Maclean
In her closing reflections, Professor Mavis Maclean offered a comparative perspective from the United Kingdom, noting with interest that none of the panelists had raised the issue of money. In the UK, she explained, questions of judicial policy, legal reform, or access to justice are always framed by cost. Having worked as an advisor in the Ministry of Justice, she recalled that every proposal was first judged by whether it offered “value for money”—a narrow and often crude measure for shaping a justice system. By contrast, Australia has adopted a more nuanced framework, discussing reforms in terms of “social return on investment,” yet even there, financial justification dominates policymaking. Maclean observed, with a touch of irony, that Poland must be “so rich” not to worry about such constraints, though she suspected this might not fully be the case.
Turning back to the themes of the seminar, she emphasized how refreshing it was to hear discussions focused on values rather than pounds and pence. In Britain, even debates about immigration, populist protest, and human rights are quickly reduced to questions of affordability—border controls, asylum procedures, or welfare costs. By contrast, today’s conversation had foregrounded principles: rule of law, democracy, patriotism, and social solidarity. She concluded warmly, congratulating the presenters for offering not only answers but also new terms and questions to reflect upon long after the session.
Panelists’ Replies
Professor Małgorzata Fuszara began by addressing the question of why women appeared to support Law and Justice (PiS) more than Civic Coalition (KO). She clarified that this impression is misleading. While PiS did secure more total votes than KO, the gender balance within each electorate shows a different pattern. Among PiS voters, men outnumbered women; conversely, among KO supporters, women outnumbered men. The clearest gender divide emerges at the extremes. In the far-right Confederation electorate, fewer than 30% of voters are women, while over 70% are men. On the left (Lewica), the trend reverses: more than 60% of voters are women. This divide has sharpened since the abortion protests, particularly among younger generations—young women tend to vote for the left, while young men lean to the far right.
Turning to media, Professor Fuszara stressed that control over television, though still significant, is an old debate. The new battlefield lies in social media, which once held the promise of greater freedom of expression but is now vulnerable to manipulation. Disinformation campaigns and far-right influence in digital spaces, she warned, pose a profound threat to democracy.
Dr. Kamil Jonski added a brief but pointed reflection on constitutional politics. He agreed that recognizing the need to amend the Polish Constitution is not problematic in itself. The danger, however, lies in the trajectory: opposition to the Constitution, followed by calls for amendment, then support for court-packing, and finally acceptance of its outcomes. This sequence, he argued, captures the narrative of groups seeking to reshape constitutional law to their advantage.
Replying to Dr. Solska’s question on how to resolve the conflict over the Rule of Law in Poland, Professor Kurczewski said: “I think we need to once again draw on Solidarity’s past experience. As Tadeusz Mazowiecki, Poland’s first non-communist Prime Minister after 1989, said, we need a ‘thick line’ (gruba kreska) to separate the future from the past. A full reset of the machinery of justice and a renewal of the judiciary is the only solution.”
Photo: Dreamstime.
Overall Conclusion
The second session of the ECPS–Oxford University Virtual Workshop Series, “The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland,” revealed Poland as both a distinctive case and a mirror of global democratic challenges.
Professor Joanna Kurczewska’s paper, presented by Professor Jacek Kurczewski, underscored how Solidarity’s inclusive patriotism—once uniting workers, clergy, and intellectuals—has been eclipsed by exclusionary narratives. Dr. Kamil Joński traced the constitutional quagmire created by divergent axiological readings of the 1997 Constitution, showing how a single text can sustain polarized visions of democracy. Professor Małgorzata Fuszara demonstrated that while consensus formed around universal human rights after 1989, women’s and minority rights remain embattled terrain, marked by regression in reproductive rights but tempered by incremental progress such as gender quotas and reforms to sexual violence law. In his own contribution, Professor Jacek Kurczewski reframed the judiciary as a representative institution of the nation, stressing that defending the rule of law requires broadening the democratic meaning of representation.
The discussants deepened the analysis: Dr. Magdalena Solska highlighted the fragility of Solidarity’s legacy and the paradoxes of electoral behavior; Professor Barry Sullivan drew US–Polish comparisons on constitutionalism and the politicization of civil society; and Professor Krzysztof Motyka reminded participants of the moral-philosophical dimensions of rights discourse, linking contemporary struggles to the witness of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko.
As Chair, Professor Mavis Maclean reminded the audience that while populism may reflect civic grievances, it can also corrode democratic institutions. The Polish experience, she argued, offers lessons for how democracies might transform discontent into renewal rather than demagoguery.
This session thus underscored a central theme of the workshop series: that the future of democracy hinges on reclaiming inclusive traditions, defending contested institutions, and embedding rights in both law and culture.
A new United Nations commission of inquiry has concluded that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza, citing mass killings, forced displacement, the destruction of essential infrastructure, and even measures to prevent births as evidence of genocidal intent. While Israel has rejected the findings as “distorted and false,” the commission underscored that all states are legally obliged to prevent and punish genocide. Against this backdrop, the ECPS spoke with genocide scholar and peace activist Dr. Mark Levene. In the interview, he warns that genocide is not an aberration but “a dysfunction of the international state system,” arguing that Gaza exemplifies how structural failures and powerful alliances allow atrocities to continue unchecked.
A United Nations commission of inquiry has concluded on Tuesday that Israel has committed genocide against Palestinians in Gaza, finding “reasonable grounds” that four of the five genocidal acts defined in the 1948 Genocide Convention have been carried out since the war began in October 2023. These include mass killings, inflicting serious bodily and mental harm, deliberately creating conditions to destroy the group, and preventing births. The report cites statements by Israeli leaders, such as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s vow to bring “mighty vengeance,” as evidence of genocidal intent reinforced by systematic military actions. Israel has categorically rejected the findings, denouncing them as “distorted and false,” but the commission underscored that all states bear a legal duty under international law to prevent and punish genocide.
It is against this backdrop that the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke in depth with Dr. Mark Levene, genocide scholar, peace activist, and Emeritus Fellow in History at the University of Southampton. In this wide-ranging conversation, Dr. Levene situates Israel’s ongoing war on Gaza within a broader theoretical and historical framework of genocide studies. His intervention goes beyond the binaries of “self-defense” and “terrorism” to expose the systemic dysfunctions of the international state order that allow such atrocities to persist.
The urgency of Dr. Levene’s analysis is underscored by his activism. On September 6, 2025, he was arrested during a peaceful sit-down protest in London’s Parliament Square. Alongside nearly 900 others, he was detained under the Terrorism Act simply for holding a sign declaring, “I Oppose Genocide, I Support Palestine Action.” This lived commitment frames his reflections on Gaza and lends moral force to his scholarly perspective.
The title of this interview—“A Dysfunctional International System Enables Israel’s Genocide in Gaza”—captures its central thesis. For Dr. Levene, genocide is not an aberration but “a dysfunction of the international state system.” Contrary to the dominant framing of genocide as a violation of an otherwise rules-based order, he argues that “you cannot separate what is happening in one state from its relationships with others.” Modern genocides, whether in Myanmar, Rwanda, or China, must be understood within the interlocking political economy of nation-states. Gaza, in this reading, is not exceptional but symptomatic: a structural outcome in which powerful allies shield perpetrators from accountability.
What emerges in this interview is both a historical and moral diagnosis. Dr. Levene emphasizes the asymmetry of power between Hamas and the Israeli state, notes the persistence of genocide despite multiple international rulings, and insists that the key question is systemic: “Why has this been allowed to continue?” His reflections range from the rationalization of mass violence through developmentalist fantasies—such as the so-called “Trump-Riviera Plan”—to the moral responsibilities of genocide scholars. Speaking as both historian and activist, he affirms that “we do have to speak truth to power,” even when power refuses to listen.
Here is the transcript of our interview with Dr. Mark Levene, lightly edited for clarity and readability.
Genocide Is a Dysfunction of the International State System
UN Security Council meeting on the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo, New York, August 25, 2016. Photo: Ognjen Stevanovic.
Dr. Mark Levene, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In“The Changing Face of Mass Murder”(2002), you argue that extreme violence cannot be understood solely through the acts of perpetrators but must be situated within broader political and societal conditions. How might this framework help us interpret Israel’s ongoing campaign in Gaza beyond the binaries of “self-defense” and “terrorism”?
Dr. Mark Levene: That’s a big question! Let me go back a little beyond that particular article, which was written quite a long time ago. I’ve always argued that genocide cannot be understood as something attributable to a single actor. There is always a dynamic at play between what we call perpetrators and victims, and I think that kind of categorization is not always helpful.
In the case of Gaza, we can identify two sets of perpetrators, but the asymmetry between them in terms of power and actions is very stark. Hamas can be seen as a perpetrator, if we use that term, but the Israeli state is also a perpetrator—albeit one with vastly greater lethal capacity. So, the dynamic is profoundly unequal.
In genocide—or at least in the mindset of those who commit it—there is always this dynamic with the other party. In law, this often translates into ordinary people being encompassed within broader categories. What is significant is that when there is a political-military struggle between two sides, entire populations become encompassed within that logic. They are punished simply because they are perceived as part of the “other side” of the conflict. And that is what is happening here.
But the point I want to make is that genocide, in the modern world, occurs essentially within the framework of nation-states—not all nation-states, not all the time, but often enough to form a recurring pattern. I see it as happening within an interconnected, interrelated political economy—in other words, within the international system of nation-states. You cannot separate what is happening in one state from its relationships with others. I cannot think of a single modern case of genocide—whether in Myanmar, Rwanda, or even China—that can be understood entirely in isolation, as if it were only about internal dynamics between a state and a population it deems so troublesome that it considers or actualize the destruction of that whole communal population.
Does that help as a starting point? It’s a tricky issue and difficult for us to fully grasp—not least because genocide is so often understood primarily through the prism of the UN Convention on Genocide, as if it were an aberration. It is framed as something that violates the norms of a rules-based, civilized international system of nation-states, in which genocide is presumed not to occur, and any such event is treated as a transgression. I don’t see it in those terms at all. I see genocide rather as a dysfunction of the international state system. In that sense, we have to view what is happening in Gaza, for instance, by asking: how is it that almost two years on from its beginning in October 2023, the genocide committed by Israel is still continuing? I actually warned on October 11, just four days after it began, that Israel was on the cusp of committing genocide.
And I do want to say something about the other side as well, because Hamas also has a role. As I said earlier about perpetrators and victims, the reality is always more complex. But the question we must ask, nearly two years on, is: why has this been allowed to continue? It’s a fundamental issue, because we’ve had so many statements, analyses, and commitments—culminating in the UN grouping, which just yesterday (September 16, 2025) declared this a case of genocide. The ICJ, ICC, and countless scholars weighed in much earlier, affirming the same. Yet it continues. That sense of helplessness felt by so many around the world, horrified by this abomination, stems from precisely this question: why is it still happening?
I think the answer lies in Israel’s relationships—not only what Israel itself is doing, which I see not as exceptional but symptomatic of the world system we inhabit. What is happening is clearly tied to Israel’s relationship with an extremely powerful actor on the international stage, namely the United States, but also with countries such as my own, the United Kingdom, where the response has been, to put it mildly, ambivalent. Why has the UK not been more proactive? On the one hand, the legal framework is very clear: this is genocide, and it has been clear from very early on. Yet on the other hand, we face the evident failures of the political system. This, I believe, reflects the deeper dysfunction of the global order itself.
States That Oppose Genocide Routinely Assist Those Who Commit It
Anti-Israel flyers displayed during a demonstration at Place du Châtelet, Paris, March 28, 2009. Photo: Olga Besnard.
Your essay“Why Is the Twentieth Century the Century of Genocide?”(2000) links genocide to the structural dynamics of the modern international system. Do you see the current assault on Gaza as symptomatic of a systemic dysfunction within the nation-state order, especially when powerful states shield Israel from accountability?
Dr. Mark Levene: The simple answer is yes—I’ve just explained why. Yes, clearly that is the case. But, again, I should say that I have not spent the last two years, or indeed the last 30 or 40 years, just looking at Israel’s relationship with Palestine or Gaza. What is happening here reflects the way that states that commit acts of genocide are often shielded by other states.
I wouldn’t say it’s normal, but the ambivalence of other states in relation to those committing such acts is rather standard. There is almost a routine process whereby a state might commit genocide, while the rhetoric of other states suggests opposition, yet their actions and policies—through omission or commission—may actively assist that state in what it is doing. And one can think of, indeed I could enumerate, examples in the recent past where this has been the case.
So, in a way, I have a very gloomy prognosis here: I don’t think what is happening in the case of Israel, and what it is doing as a state in relation to Gaza, is somehow entirely exceptional. It is actually indicative of something broader—a deeper malaise, a wider dysfunction that exists within the international system of nation-states. These are the same states that, on the one hand, created the Genocide Convention, which in effect says, “thou shalt not do this.” That is how I see it, in almost religious terms—an extension of “thou shalt not do this.” But in practice, the system still allows it to happen.
Gaza Is Accelerated Genocide; the West Bank Is Creeping Genocide
In your study of the Chittagong Hill Tracts (1999), you coined the term “creeping genocide” to describe gradual elimination under a developmentalist state agenda. Could Israel’s long-term blockade, de-development of Gaza, and deliberate destruction of infrastructure be understood as a comparable case of creeping genocide?
Dr. Mark Levene: Well, yes and no. I’d say something rather different here. I think what is going on in relation to the entirety of Palestine, i.e. what we would now include as the West Bank, is creeping genocide, though it is accelerating. What I think is happening in Gaza is at the extreme end of accelerated genocide. I don’t think this is creeping, actually, even though it has taken two years to get Israel thus far. And I would emphasize this developmental—you mentioned development. The developmentalist aspect is something we should focus on a little bit. And the way I would approach it is by returning to what is, in my view, highly indicative of what is actually taking place here—and what, to ordinary eyes, might seem completely off the map—namely, the Trump-Riviera Plan. But this is going to be determined, this area is going to be turned into a sort of Riviera of the Middle East. That, to me, is not, in terms of how genocidal actors think things through, off the map. We ought to take it extremely seriously. Because genocide is always, in some ways, linked to the latent ideas, even in the back of one’s head, of states that are trying to envisage transcending the conditions under which they normally exist into something else, into something where they can truly develop themselves as they would like to in their heads.
Does this make sense? What I’m trying to say here is that states in the modern world, the international system of nation-states—are developmentalist. They have to develop in order to survive within an international system which is, by definition, social Darwinian. It’s a sort of, almost a competitive race to the top, or race to the bottom. Normally, states cannot realize what is unrealizable. If we take the case of Israel, the thinking would be we would really love to have a state which was streamlined, which didn’t have any Palestinians in it, which we could turn into a corporate security entity, as we have it in our heads, which is going to be the Mecca of the Middle East, if I can be a little bit ironic. Before October 2023, Israel was maneuvering around that idea, but no concrete projection of a developmentalist arrangement granting them the totality of Palestine to use as they wished yet existed.
The crisis of October 7th—and it really was that—I mean, I’m sure you’ve spoken to Omar Bartov about the trauma Israel suffered on that day—it’s what I would call the perpetrator’s never-again syndrome. Namely, we have a situation where, in the past, the victim group has attacked us, posing a mortal threat to our existence. This came to pass in a very real way on October 7th with what Hamas did. One could argue that what Hamas was attempting was itself genocidal; it simply lacked the means and capacity to carry it through. This became a green light for the Israeli state to bring out its tucked-away, last-resort plans—to tear up what had been in place up to that point and strike out toward something completely different and new. In other words, even if what Israel was doing up to 2023 was grotesque and hideous in relation to the West Bank and Gaza, after that moment there was a genuine rupture. From then on, Israel was attempting to realize what had previously been unrealizable: sweeping away the population of Gaza and creating something entirely new.
Now, this is hideous, but it is part of the mindset of genocide. It’s a sort of drive toward transcendence. That Riviera plan sits at the extreme end of that developmentalist thinking. You might call it fantasy, but it is fantasy being put into practice. The way the Israeli defense forces are bulldozing Gaza into non-existence—turning it into rubble—is a precondition for that transformation. What is actually happening on the ground is the pulverization of a people, of an entire population, rendering them so destitute and degraded that they can be removed.
Now, again, I can make comparisons. I wouldn’t say this is a unique action of Israel. Israel’s ethnic cleansing of Gaza should be seen within a much broader framework of politically mandated ethnic cleansings in the modern era. But that doesn’t excuse it in any sense, because all those ethnic cleansings—though not listed as elements of genocide in the Genocide Convention—are, in practice, genocidal. I have no doubt of that, even if it puts me at variance with the Convention.
What is happening in the West Bank, however, is creeping genocide. You could put it like this: Gaza is stage one; the rest—the Bezalel Smotrich plan for the West Bank, which also entails total ethnic cleansing and is unfolding piece by piece, olive grove by olive grove, village by village—is creeping genocide, but under the aegis of the international state system. And the fact that Israel has a powerful ally supporting it, doing nothing to stop this—namely, the United States—means this creeping genocide is accelerating very rapidly. These facts on the ground are intended to sabotage any aspiration of those states and people who advocate a two-state solution. This is precisely what Smotrich and those within the Israeli government are attempting to achieve. That’s the way I see it. It may sound horribly cynical, but then genocide is, by definition, cynical.
Framing Gaza as a ‘Problem Population’: The Logic of Genocide
Pro-Palestinian protesters hold signs. Photo: Oliver Perez.
You argue that genocide is often undertaken by states perceiving a “problem population” as a threat to their developmental or geopolitical survival. How does this resonate with Israel’s depiction of Gaza’s entire civilian population as complicit with terror organization Hamas?
Dr. Mark Levene: That’s a rather tricky question, isn’t it? I’m not sure that I am entirely—again, if we take other historical examples, one closer to home: the Armenian Genocide of 1915 in Turkey. There were groups who were defined as terrorists by the Ottoman state in 1915, and there is still a problem area I have written about: the degree to which insurrectionary groups, or groups challenging the integrity of the Ottoman state in wartime, were clearly—some of them at least—debating or actually practising terrorism against the state. That’s my position. There were other insurrectionary groups in Europe at that time; it was not only Armenian groups.
The difference here is that the Ottoman response—more specifically, the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP) response—was enacted by a regime that did not represent the Ottoman population as a whole. The Israeli government does not necessarily represent the Jewish population in Israel as a whole. But that CUP regime chose to encompass the entire Armenian population as insurrectionary—despite many complex cross-currents—and pursued a programme of their deportation or elimination. The stated aim was ethnic cleansing—to remove them to the desert regions to the south of the empire—but the result was genocidal.
Now, in the Palestinian population in Gaza, which I’ve never been to, so I can only speak second- or third hand, I’m sure there are a lot of crosscurrents of political, social, and cultural attitudes and feelings, as there are in all societies. Those would include people who were supporters of Hamas, and who—part of the thinking—would like to wipe Israel off the map. Does this, therefore, justify an attack on the whole population of that region: a population that is not just a “problem population,” but one that is co-responsible for what Hamas did? You can hear what I’m saying: I cannot justify what Hamas did. I think it was not only morally wrong but strategically an error. But can one justify treating the whole population as collectively responsible—and therefore punishable—which in effect legitimizes what Israel is now attempting, namely ethnic cleansing that, given there is nowhere else to go, results in creeping elimination day by day, hour by hour?
So again, this is what I’m saying: I hate what I’m saying, but I think there is a general genocidal thinking that goes on here. We almost have to get into the mindset of a perpetrator, and one can read it in, actually, all the various utterances of government ministers, but also social commentators and so on, who have been speaking in the last two years of wiping this “problem population” off the map, of making it disappear somewhere else. This is the mindset of genocide, unfortunately.
Holocaust Memorialization Risks Collapse in the Face of Gaza
In “The Holocaust Paradigm as Paradoxical Imperative”(2022), you warn against a sacralized, exceptionalist reading of the Holocaust that blocks solidarities with other victims of mass violence. How might this paradigm be shaping Western reluctance to acknowledge Gaza as genocidal?
Dr. Mark Levene: So again, it’s a very big question. The brief answer might be this: what I call the Holocaust paradigm refers to the way what happened to the Jewish populations of Europe under the Nazi aegis—not just under Nazi occupation, but, and this is a historical point I would want to develop more fully elsewhere, involving the co-responsibility not only of the Nazis but also of other European states in the destruction of the Jews. That is a major theme of mine.
Looking back retrospectively, the key moment was the 1990s, and I think that timing is significant because it came at the end of the Cold War. From then onward, the West, primarily, elevated this destruction of the Jews, of a key component of the European population, into something sacralized—turned into a kind of sacred act. It was not only made exceptional but also set up as the benchmark by which we ought to understand genocide.
Part of the reason lies in why this memorialization took shape. On one hand, it was tied to notions of tolerance and possibly of a multicultural society, which Europe by that time seemed more willing to embrace. The Holocaust became a peg upon which that notion could be hung. On the other hand, my argument is that this came after the collapse of the West’s number one enemy, the Soviet Union. With the Soviet Union gone, the West needed a figure of antithesis, and the Nazis filled that role—as the most awful, insidious, diabolical example imaginable.
At the same time, in the 1990s, genocides were occurring within Europe—most notably in Bosnia-Herzegovina after the collapse of the Soviet system in the East—which showed how close such horrors could be. And so there emerged an almost edifice of Holocaust memorialization that became very significant. It became, as you say, sacralized. One could not touch it. If you wanted to talk about other genocides, you had to do so by asking whether they fit within the frame of this sacralized genocide.
This shaped interesting directions of travel: one could point to Rwanda and say, yes, here is another genocide we should also recognize and memorialize. But Armenia in 1915, for instance, was always politically fraught, for reasons tied to structural relationships between states, and so it never fully entered the pantheon of what was considered “in” or “out.”
So, to return to your question, the simple answer is yes: Holocaust memorialization became central to a self-referential notion of the West as the “good guys.” The Holocaust carried a significant emotional weight within that way of thinking.
I think what’s striking about the present—and I say this as someone who is Jewish—is that I do not wish Holocaust memorialization ill; on the contrary, I wish it well. It offered us an opportunity, potentially, to recognize that the world has witnessed many genocides. But I believe it is now in danger of being smashed to smithereens by what is happening in Gaza.
There is another aspect here. We are very focused on Gaza, yet Holocaust memorialization in this country—in Britain, for example—still issues statements as if Gaza were not happening. It continues to speak only about what befell the Jews in the 1940s, which of course it should do, but it seems unable to draw any reference to what is unfolding today. That inability is deeply troubling. It creates an obstacle to connecting past genocide to contemporary atrocities.
What is revealing about Holocaust memorialization is that it deals with something fixed in the past. You can point to it and say: this was terrible. But what is terrible now is not being addressed. From a Jewish communal perspective, and from the broader framework of Holocaust memorialization, this represents another catastrophe—a consequence of the many consequences flowing from the genocide in Gaza.
We Have to Speak Truth to Power
Israelis walk next an Israeli election billboard of Likud Party showing US President Donald Trump shaking hands with Likud chairman and Israeli Prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Beth Shemesh, Israel on September 8, 2019. Photo: Gil Cohen Magen.
Finally, across your scholarship you stress the moral responsibility of genocide scholars not only to analyze but also to warn. In the face of Gaza, what role should genocide scholars play: cautious analysts, public intellectuals, or active witnesses?
Dr. Mark Levene: Again, that’s a very big question, because it involves a whole spectrum of human beings who are “genocide scholars.” And I can’t speak for them. Some see themselves as public intellectuals, while others see our role as being able to have an impact on situations like this through our analysis and what we say. I’d also note, of course, that within the genocide and Holocaust arenas of scholarship there is a lot of unease and fractiousness now about how we view what is happening in Gaza. Not everybody is on the same page, and I think one should acknowledge that there is a multiplicity of viewpoints.
I can only speak for myself here. My background is not only as a genocide scholar but also as a peace activist. I spent my formative years, my late 20s and early 30s, as a peace activist in a Europe which, as we saw it, was on the verge of nuclear annihilation. So, my own position, for what it’s worth, is about speaking truth to power. And the sadness of that, from a personal point of view, is that power is not very interested in listening.
In the end, one has to resort to action, as I did last week. I felt impelled to join Palestine Action, a group in Britain challenging the relationship of the British government to the genocide in Gaza—through what it allows to happen on its soil, or through its engagement in selling components for F-35 planes that have been used to bomb Gaza. Palestine Action has been challenging, non-violently, the British state’s role in this process, as well as companies on British soil, including one just down the road from where I live in the Welsh borders: Elbit Systems, a major Israeli defense manufacturer with an embedded role in the British defense industry.
I felt impelled to support Palestine Action, even though it has been proscribed as a terrorist organization. Ultimately, I can only do what other human beings can do: put my feet non-violently on the ground—and in this case, be arrested under Section 12 or 13 of the Terrorism Act in Britain—for saying no to genocide. I was arrested simply for sitting in Parliament Square in London with a poster saying, “I oppose genocide, I support Palestine Action.” And for that, I am now, apparently, a supporter of terrorism.
We have reached a point where what should be blindingly obvious—that my government, and all governments, should be doing something to stop this—seems to be beyond their capacity. So, I don’t exaggerate my role as a genocide scholar. Most of the time, we are not listened to in high political or elite circles. So, there is a limit. We have to be aware of those limitations. But we still have to speak truth to power.
In an interview with the ECPS, Professor Henri Barkey—born in Turkey and one of the leading US experts on Middle East politics—warns that Turkey has crossed a decisive threshold under President Erdogan. “Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system,” he stated, arguing that Erdogan has removed the “competitive” element from competitive authoritarianism by subordinating the judiciary, jailing rivals, and even deciding opposition party leadership. While repression deepens, Professor Barkey sees a paradox: “The system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize.” He highlights youth-led mobilization, fears over arrested Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu’s popularity, and Europe’s limited leverage, concluding that Erdogan’s overreach may ultimately galvanize opposition forces.
In a wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Henri Barkey, a leading scholar of Middle East politics who was born in Turkey, delivered a stark assessment of the country’s current trajectory under President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. “Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system,” Professor Barkey stated, emphasizing that the transition from “competitive authoritarianism” to outright authoritarian rule marks a dangerous turning point.
Professor Barkey—Adjunct Senior Fellow for Middle East Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations and holder of the Bernard L. and Bertha F. Cohen Chair in International Relations at Lehigh University—has long studied Turkey’s political development. He previously directed the Middle East Center at the Wilson Center and served on the US State Department Policy Planning Staff during the Clinton administration.
Professor Barkey situated Erdogan’s consolidation of power within a broader historical and political context. Turkey’s modern history, he observed, has been marked by cycles of democratic openings and authoritarian retrenchment. Yet, despite repeated interruptions—from military coups to autocratic turns—“the Turkish public, by and large, has adapted and adopted a sense of democratic culture.” The resilience of ordinary citizens, he noted, remains a crucial counterweight to authoritarian encroachment.
At the heart of Professor Barkey’s argument is Erdogan’s dismantling of institutional safeguards. “He is turning Turkey into a complete authoritarian system because he controls the judiciary, and judges and prosecutors essentially do whatever he wants them to do,” Professor Barkey explained. Recent episodes—politically motivated trials, the dismissal of opposition leaders, and the manipulation of party leadership contests—demonstrate, in his view, the collapse of even the minimal competition that previously characterized Turkey’s hybrid regime. “In other words, Erdogan is now deciding who will lead the main opposition party.”
This tightening grip, however, is not without risk. Professor Barkey underscored a paradox: “There’s a kind of dialectic here: the system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize.” Millions of citizens, particularly the younger generations who have never known a Turkey without Erdogan, have mobilized in protests, demanding change. Professor Barkey noted that such resistance is difficult to gauge because “people are afraid to speak out” and reporting is restricted, but he insisted that “at some point, this is going to break.”
Erdogan’s own fear of rivals, especially Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, reflects this tension. Professor Barkey argued that the regime’s extraordinary measures to sideline Imamoglu—ranging from imprisonment to retroactive annulment of his university degree—offer “the clearest demonstration that he’s terrified.”
Professor Barkey also highlighted the role of external actors in shaping Erdogan’s room for maneuver. In his view, former US President Donald Trump “doesn’t believe in democracy” and effectively gave Erdogan “carte blanche” at home by refusing to criticize his repression. Europe, for its part, remains uneasy with Erdogan’s authoritarian aims and worried about migration pressures, but Professor Barkey noted that Erdogan feels confident he can “withstand European pressure” while focusing on demolishing the opposition. Ultimately, the combination of a permissive US stance under Trump and Europe’s limited leverage has reinforced Erdogan’s sense of impunity.
Ultimately, Professor Barkey’s analysis suggests both danger and opportunity: the danger of entrenched authoritarianism, but also the possibility that Erdogan’s overreach may galvanize opposition forces. As he concluded, “Authoritarian leaders always make mistakes… and I think Erdogan is already making them.”
Professor Henri Barkey is an Adjunct Senior Fellow for Middle East Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations and holder of the Bernard L. and Bertha F. Cohen Chair in International Relations at Lehigh University.
Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor Henri Barkey, lightly edited for clarity and readability.
Erdogan Realizes He’s Weak: People Are Fed Up and Want Change
Professor Henri Barkey, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Turkish President Erdogan has long relied on a blend of populist narratives and authoritarian tactics to consolidate power. Given the backlash over Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu’s imprisonment, the use of lawfare through corruption investigations, the appointment of trustees to CHP-led administrations, and the wave of nationwide anti-government protests, do you believe this strategy is now undermining rather than sustaining his authority? Could this moment mark a potential inflection point for his populist-authoritarian model?
Professor Henri Barkey: It’s interesting you say that, because I actually had a piece published in Foreign Affairs Online where I basically argued very strongly that Erdogan had made a terrible mistake by imprisoning the mayor of Istanbul, and I thought this was the end of Erdogan. Imamoglu is still in jail, and Erdogan is still the president, and he has gone ahead and imprisoned a lot more people—journalists and other members of the opposition party—and he is also trying to get rid of the leadership of the opposition party.
But to me, all of these are indicators that he realizes, after 23 years in power, that people don’t want him anymore. He has actually lost public support, and he has to resort to these incredible machinations to stay in power. In other words, he realizes that if there were elections any time now, he would not be re-elected, and his party would lose. In fact, in the last municipal elections in 2024, the main opposition party came in comfortably—comfortably for Turkey—as number one, and his party came in second.
What is going on today in Turkey is that Erdogan realizes he’s weak. He has support—it’s not that he doesn’t have support—but of course, he has the state machine, which he can always mobilize to get anything he wants done. However, for him, it must be very difficult to accept that he, who used to be genuinely popular in Turkey and who won elections genuinely, is now losing support. People are fed up. People want change. And it’s natural.
Imagine if you are 25, or maybe even 30 years old. All your conscious years have passed under one leader. People want change. So, it’s partially psychological, but partially also, of course, due to his responsibility for what’s going on in Turkey. The economy is not doing well. Inflation is high. He made terrible mistakes. And naturally, people want change.
The System Is Becoming More Authoritarian, but Society May Be Resisting
In your writings, you describe Erdogan’s evolution from a reformist leader promising EU-style democratization to a populist-authoritarian consolidating near-total power. How has this transformation shaped Turkey’s political trajectory and institutional resilience over the past two decades?
Professor Henri Barkey: Turkey—if you look at its modern history from World War II onwards—has experienced many different variations over the past 80 years. There have been democratic governments, military coups, and repeated interruptions in its political system. But what strikes me is that the Turkish public, by and large, has adapted and adopted a sense of democratic culture. Not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it exists. The Turkish public has a stake in elections and in the freedom to say what they want and to act as they wish.
Of course, there have been authoritarian periods—Turkey is going through one now—but you still see a certain resilience. The fact that 15 million people, after Istanbul Mayor Imamoglu was arrested, signed a petition to have him declared the candidate of the main opposition party is an incredible demonstration of people’s stake in the democratic system.
So, what’s happening is very interesting. On the one hand, underneath, there is this democratic culture. Again, I don’t want to exaggerate—it’s not perfect. But whose democratic system is perfect these days? Everything exists on a scale. What has happened in Turkey, however, is that Erdogan has essentially transformed the country into a, quote-unquote, “competitive authoritarian” system. Elections still take place, outcomes are largely determined, but there remains some element of competition. Certain offices may be won by the opposition, and the opposition can still win seats in Parliament, and so on.
But now he’s actually taking the competitive part out of competitive authoritarianism and eliminating it altogether. He is turning Turkey into a complete authoritarian system because he controls the judiciary, and judges and prosecutors essentially do whatever he wants them to do. We have seen people sent to jail for no reason whatsoever—simply because he doesn’t like them. Authorities have claimed that the main opposition party engaged in questionable practices in its primaries or conventions, and suddenly the justice system decides that leaders who were elected a few years ago should no longer hold their positions, and someone else should replace them. In other words, Erdogan is now deciding who will lead the main opposition party.
This is partly because he is clearly afraid of the current leadership, and especially of the mayor of Istanbul, who is in jail. Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system, and I don’t think this is going to end well. By that, I mean authoritarian leaders always make mistakes, because there is never anyone around them to say, “Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister, you shouldn’t do this; there may be consequences.” People always agree with them. So of course, mistakes are inevitable.
And I think Erdogan is already making mistakes. He has galvanized the opposition in a way that, if truly free elections were held today, he would be seriously doubted—he would not win. People can see that what he is doing is deeply unjust.
So there’s a kind of dialectic here: the system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize. It’s hard to see this resistance all the time because of restrictions—even on reporting. People are afraid to speak out. But at some point, this is going to break.
Imamoglu’s Jail Proves Erdogan’s Fear
Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu addresses supporters during a protest under the banner “The Nation Stands by Their Will” outside the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality on December 15, 2022. Photo: Tolga Ildun
The mass protests following Imamoglu’s arrest have been driven largely by younger generations who have never known a Turkey without Erdogan. How significant is this demographic factor in shaping the country’s political future, and do you see parallels with youth-led anti-authoritarian movements elsewhere?
Professor Henri Barkey: As I alluded to earlier, if you are 30 years old, Erdogan became your Prime Minister when you were 7 or 8 years old. I’m picking age 30 as an example, but imagine: all your conscious years you’ve seen one leader. And the other thing, of course, is that in terms of the communication systems—television, radio, newspapers—they are completely dominated by Erdogan in Turkey. So, you wake up to Erdogan, you go to bed with Erdogan.
And I’m not saying there isn’t a youth that actually supports Erdogan—there is. But there is certainly a youth that says, “Look, we would like to see somebody else.” In 2023, during the national elections, the main opposition party presented as a presidential candidate Mr. Kemal Kilicdaroglu, who was unimaginative, did not appeal to the youth, and gave them no reason to galvanize. Now, for the first time in a long time, you have a leader on the opposition side. People criticize him, and that’s fine—he’s not perfect—but he has managed to capture the youth’s imagination. You see a great deal of mobilization, and that’s why they put him in jail.
Erdogan has many different court cases against him to keep him in jail. And in which country do you see a political leader arrested like this? He didn’t commit murder, he hasn’t done anything dangerous. But he has been in jail since March 19th. It’s been almost six months now, and he’ll be in jail for a very long time, because they don’t let you out—as if you were an axe murderer about to kill people. Journalists and others stay in jail for one or two years, and then suddenly maybe they decide to let you go, find you innocent, but you’ve already spent two years in jail.
We’ve seen this, of course, in the cases of the Kurdish political leader Selahattin Demirtas or the civil society leader Osman Kavala—they’ve been in jail for no reason whatsoever. And in the case of the mayor of Istanbul, they even annulled his university degree 30 years after he got it. Imagine if somebody decided to find some technicality and say, “Oh, my university degree is invalid, and therefore everything else I’ve done since then is invalid.” You can’t do that. But they come up with excuses to prevent an opponent from running against Erdogan.
The fact that Erdogan goes to such lengths to stop Imamoglu from running tells you how afraid he is of him. To me, that’s the best proof, the clearest demonstration, that he’s terrified.
Imamoglu’s Jail Time Only Raised His Standing
A photo from the mass CHP rally in Istanbul on March 29, 2025, protesting the unlawful detention of Ekrem Imamoglu, organized by party leader Ozgur Ozel. The event brought AKP and opposition supporters face to face. Photo: Elif Aytar.
Imamoglu’s repeated electoral victories and rising popularity have made him Erdogan’s most formidable rival. By imprisoning him and pursuing politically motivated trials, has Erdogan inadvertently elevated Imamoglu into a symbol of democratic resistance, similar to Erdogan’s own trajectory after his imprisonment in the late 1990s?
Professor Henri Barkey: He is smart enough to have realized that he owes his popularity, at least in part, to the fact that, as mayor of Istanbul, he was kicked out of his job and spent a short time in prison. That actually enhanced his standing. Moreover, if you remember, not in 2024 but in the previous municipal elections, Imamoglu won with a small majority. Then the Erdogan government came up with an excuse, claiming irregularities in the elections, and ordered that they be held again. People saw through it. What happened? Imamoglu won by a much larger margin against the same candidate. Why? Because people were angered by Ankara’s political interference in their choices. Even those who did not vote for Imamoglu the first time decided to vote for him the second, just to punish Erdogan.
Anyone should have learned that lesson. He hasn’t. The alternative, of course, is that he knows the lesson, and this time he intends to prevent Imamoglu from running. He will find him guilty and keep him in jail so that he can go into the next elections unopposed. He is also trying to destroy the opposition party, aiming for it to nominate, or to be led by, the candidate who ran against him in 2023, because he knows he can outmaneuver him and thinks this is the way to secure another term.
So, I think that’s his intention. I believe he’s made up his mind. He knows he can’t beat Imamoglu, but he can beat the new CHP leadership. And unfortunately, we will see a lot more people going to jail.
Erdogan Wants to Take the Competitive Part Out of Politics
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.
We’ve seen Erdogan’s government dismiss elected CHP mayors, replace them with trustees, and initiate corruption investigations against opposition-led municipalities. To what extent does this strategy reflect a deliberate effort to transform Turkey into a de facto one-party state, and could it ultimately backfire by strengthening opposition solidarity?
Professor Henri Barkey: I think my previous answers essentially say yes, of course. But you’ve noticed he’s now doing something else. He’s putting pressure on individual mayors of localities and forcing them to change parties and join his party. I saw today—though I forget where—that a deputy mayor was resigning from the main opposition party and joining Erdogan’s party. You can imagine the kind of pressure they must be exerting enourmous force her to do that, because it doesn’t make sense, when CHP is running high, to switch parties. But we’ve seen a number of cases like that.
So he’s not going to completely eliminate the main opposition party; he’s going to completely weaken it. He will make it what it was, let’s say, five years ago, before the opposition’s rejuvenation—when it won a few municipalities and a number of seats in Parliament, but had no influence and couldn’t do anything.
What’s very interesting is that all these corruption investigations have been initiated against opposition parties, opposition mayors, and sub-mayors. Not a single AKP mayor—or municipality—has been similarly treated. Can you really tell me there’s no corruption on the AKP side? No, but they’re all part of the system. That’s what I’m saying.
What Erdogan wants is to take the competitive part out of Turkey’s politics, because in his mind it should no longer be competitive. So it’s going to be only authoritarian. He’s turning Turkey into an authoritarian state.
Erdogan Cannot Control the Exiled Opposition Abroad
With the judiciary, media, and much of the bureaucracy subordinated to the presidency, are there any institutional safeguards left to counterbalance Erdogan’s authority? To what extent has the post-2016 purge of alleged Gulen-affiliated judges, prosecutors, academics, media, and civil servants accelerated Turkey’s democratic backsliding and hollowed out state capacity?
Professor Henri Barkey: Today the judiciary is completely under Erdogan’s control. If a judge rules in a way that Erdogan does not appreciate, he gets kicked out and sent somewhere else. The same applies to prosecutors. And there must be an internal state security apparatus that keeps tabs on all of these people, so that whenever pressure is needed, it can be applied.
So what’s left? What is the source of opposition today? I think, to a large extent, it’s the online environment—whether internet newspapers, journalists, or individuals with blogs and podcasts. Whenever Erdogan feels pressured, he tries to throttle the internet, slow it down, or impose bans on opposition networks by preventing them from broadcasting online. And they don’t have any other outlet, since they are not allowed to appear on mainstream television.
But that’s very hard to sustain all the time. It looks bad, and it can actually increase opposition if overused. When you slow down the internet, you slow it down for everyone—including people who simply want to buy things online. So it’s not clear to me that this is a viable long-term strategy. It’s more temporary and occasional. He did it this week with X, or Twitter.
So the online space remains, essentially, the main source of opposition. And you also have in Turkey a large number of journalists, academics, and public figures who are actively opposing him. This is what I meant earlier: there is still an element of democratic culture.
Now, you mentioned the Gulen movement. I know people who were professors at Gulen-owned universities. They were perfectly good academics, with international reputations, publishing internationally. They were not necessarily Gulenists. If you get a job at a university, you get it through established structures and processes. Yet all these people lost their jobs and became unemployable. That was a major blow to Turkish civil society and to the country’s intellectual world.
The Gulen movement was defeated, yes. But parts of it should not have been touched—for example, the universities. And by the way, I don’t know exactly what happened during the coup. To me, the coup remains an enigma. Maybe Gulenists were involved, but I think there were other factors as well. I suspect Erdogan knew ahead of time that a coup was coming, and when it happened, he took advantage of it. In the process, many people were smeared without due process.
This is something Turkish society will one day have to come to terms with. Gulenists who were guilty, yes—but not everyone was necessarily a Gulenist. And many suffered a great deal.
Another source of opposition, by the way, may be Turks who have emigrated to Europe. Yes, there is a large pro-Erdogan community abroad that tries to organize support. But there are also many dissenters now living in Europe, the United States, and elsewhere. They are a major source of opposition—and unlike in Turkey, Erdogan cannot control them, because he cannot throw them into jail.
You Can’t Have Democracy in Diyarbakir and Fascism in Istanbul
A Turkish man in Hyde Park, London, shows support for protesters in Istanbul following the eruption of nationwide demonstrations—Turkey’s largest anti-government unrest —challenging then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s authority in June 2013. Photo credit: Ufuk Uyanik.
The PKK’s recent renunciation of armed struggle and ongoing talks involving Abdullah Ocalan and the DEM party suggest potential openings for renewed negotiations. How do you interpret Erdogan’s ambivalence toward these developments? Could a genuine Kurdish peace process pave the way for democratization, or is it more likely to be instrumentalized for political survival?
Professor Henri Barkey: To me, this is a very interesting situation because, with your question about democratization, how can you have… as a Kurdish leader once said, very correctly: you can’t have democracy in Diyarbakir and fascism in Istanbul. That is to say, what does it mean to democratize? Turkey needs to democratize. Turkey needs to deal with the Kurdish question. Turkey has to recognize that there are people who are not Turks, who have a different language, who would like to live as Turkish citizens but would also like to be able to express themselves in their own language or in any other fashion, and not have to go to jail for that.
The fact that the PKK has decided to renounce armed struggle is a good thing. They should have done it a long time ago, because the armed struggle wasn’t going anywhere. They had been completely defeated. They were just up in the northeast of Iraq, in the Qandil Mountains, stuck there with 158 Turkish bases in northern Iraq that completely dominate the area. One or two attacks a year is not what’s going to make the PKK the PKK. So the PKK was defeated, and they finally came to this realization. It’s good that they abandoned it. But I don’t think there is going to be a peace process. I don’t think this is going to go anywhere.
Because, first of all, Erdogan himself doesn’t believe in democracy. I mean, what did the opposition, the DEM party, say they want? They didn’t ask for anything specific. They would like, of course, prisoners to be released. They want to deal with what to do with the fighters who are abroad, in Iraq, who would like to be able to integrate into society. But basically, what the leadership has said so far is that they want democracy. They want to be able to participate. But this is not something Erdogan wants. Everything Erdogan is doing is, as I said, taking the “competitive” out of competitive authoritarianism and establishing a completely authoritarian state. So this is not going to work.
Now, it turns out that on the Kurdish side, the main leader who’s in jail—Ocalan—doesn’t happen to be a democrat either. So it’s a big question mark. He’s 80 years old now. He must be thinking about his legacy, and that’s why he’s trying to… but he also can’t make a deal that is going to be rejected by the democrats in Turkey. So he’s also stuck. I’m sure Erdogan’s idea was probably to convince the DEM party to vote for either a constitutional change, or more likely for early elections, that Erdogan would make sure he would win. That’s probably still his plan.
Bahceli’s Gamble on Kurdish Talks Faces Dead End
The one interesting question mark here is that, to a large extent, this whole process started with an initiative from Erdogan’s main right-wing coalition partner, the MHP, led by Devlet Bahceli, who used to be the most anti-Kurdish figure in Turkey. He said Ocalan should not be released, but should come to the Turkish Parliament and address Parliament. That was really an amazing statement by him, and he pushed the process.
I wonder if Mr. Bahçeli, who’s at the end of his life and has run the party without much to show for his years in power or as a party leader—what has he done, what has he accomplished?—maybe that was his way of creating an inheritance, if you will, for his followers: that he would bring domestic peace to Turkey. Well, if that’s his incentive, that’s fine. It doesn’t matter how you get there, as long as you do it.
So the big problem Erdogan has is: to what extent is Mr. Bahceli committed to continuing the process? And Mr. Bahceli himself must realize that, the way things are going now, the DEM party is not going to be able to make a deal with Erdogan. There will be talks—we’re going to see a commission has been created, supposedly there will be conversations—but this is not going anywhere. And in the meantime, Erdogan is destroying CHP, and this puts the DEM party in a terrible situation.
Trump Gave Erdogan Carte Blanche
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.
And lastly, Professor Barkey, given Washington’s strategic interests—from NATO cohesion to cooperation with Syrian Kurdish forces—how should the US and EU respond to Erdogan’s escalating repression of the opposition? Would stronger political and economic pressure risk reinforcing his anti-Western populist narrative, or is greater confrontation inevitable?
Professor Henri Barkey: Let’s be honest here. What Erdogan has done since March would not have happened if you had a different president of the United States. Here you have Trump, who is upset about Bolsonaro getting tried, and he imposes sanctions even on the judge who is judging him. And then he has not said a word about what’s going on in Turkey. Trump doesn’t believe in democracy. Trump is only interested in himself and his own interests. So, he’s decided that he likes Erdogan, and he can do business with Erdogan, and therefore, Erdogan can do whatever he wants. And that’s what Erdogan is doing.
Let’s say Biden or Kamala Harris had been at the White House today. Erdogan would not have done any of these things, because the US government would have really pushed very hard. Whether it was investments or any other type of help that the Turks would need, they would not get.
The Turkish economy is in terrible shape. Inflation is much higher than the official figures indicate, and it’s still at 30% for a modern economy. The Turkish economy may be in better shape structurally, but I think it is still fairly dynamic. You go to Europe, you see Turkish exports everywhere—and I’m not just talking about tomatoes and agricultural products. I’m talking about sophisticated products, industrial products, electronic products. The Turkish economy has a number of advantages that probably would do a lot better with improved economic management from Ankara. But it has still managed to perform not poorly, given the circumstances.
Biden, or a Democratic president, or even a Republican president who cares about this—I mean, George Bush would have been up in arms about it. Trump has given Erdogan essentially carte blanche. And this is why we have not seen any major Turkish incursions into northern Syria.
Now, it’s not that Trump is attached to the Syrian Kurds. He couldn’t care less about them. But Trump would like to take American troops out of Syria, while also realizing that ISIS is on the mend, ISIS is getting stronger, and he doesn’t want a major ISIS insurrection again like what happened back in 2014. So he’s probably still thinking about it and has decided to reduce the number of troops, but not pull them out. As a result, Erdogan hasn’t gone into Syria.
But the truth is, the Syrian Kurds do not threaten Turkey. It’s just something in some Turks’ minds, and it’s a way of galvanizing the population behind you. The Kurdish problem in Turkey is a long-standing one, and there are many people who still don’t trust the Kurds. And Syrian Kurds are Syrians—people forget that. The Turks complain that Syrian Kurds control a large chunk of territory. Yes, they do. They happen to be Syrian Kurds, by the way. Turkey itself controls an enormous chunk of Syrian territory in the northwest—as big as Lebanon. But that’s okay, Turkey can do that. So you have these anomalies.
Erdogan is careful, because with Trump you don’t know from one day to the next how he might turn on you. So Trump is letting him do everything he wants to do in Turkey, but doesn’t want him to go into Syria and mess things up there. Fine—Erdogan can live with that. So Erdogan is quite happy.
Erdogan Thinks He Can Withstand European Pressure
The Europeans are very unhappy with what’s happening in Turkey, because they realize what Erdogan’s aims are. And you’ve had a huge exodus of Turks who’ve gone to Europe, escaping the Erdogan regime. The immigration problem from the rest of the world through Turkey to Europe has always been Erdogan’s carte majeure. But whatever Europeans do or threaten, Erdogan is going to ignore, because he essentially thinks he has maybe 6 to 12 months in which he has to focus on defanging or demolishing the opposition party. Once he is done with that, he won’t do anything else. So he thinks he can withstand European pressure for this long.
The interesting thing about Trump is that there’s a way in which people are also afraid of him because of his unpredictability and his very tough talk. It doesn’t always mean anything—the Chinese have seen it, and the Russians know exactly how to react—but they’re big powers. Everybody else is afraid. I’ll give you an example. It’s a minor one, but the day before yesterday, the Iraqi Shia militia released an American researcher, Elizabeth Tsurkov, whom they had been holding for two years. They kidnapped her. And I think the only reason they released her—and this is why Trump’s craziness pays off—is that he probably threatened the Iraqi government and said, “You don’t get this person out…” And the Iraqi government said, well, they are the Shia militias, we don’t have control over them. And he probably said, “I know you have control over them, I know you can do it, do it now.” Biden and the Kamala Harris government have not tried very hard to get her out.
So Trump’s unpredictability is why Erdogan has to be careful. As long as Trump gives him, as I said, carte blanche at home, Erdogan is very happy, and he can get away with it. What’s more important to him? Winning the election, staying in power for another term. That’s all he cares about.
So the answer to your question is that not much is going to happen. The Europeans are not going to be very successful. Now, if Turkey were to go through a major economic crisis again, with major demonstrations and instability, that could be different. But given how the whole region is at the moment, I don’t think that’s in the cards right now. The Europeans are going to continue doing some business, they’ll put some constraints on Turkish economic exchanges, but there’s only so much they can do. They can criticize the Turks, but the Turks don’t care. Or I should say, the Turkish government doesn’t care. Erdogan has essentially won.
