Social Media

The Politics of Attention: Visibility, Legitimacy, and the Transformation of Democratic Competition

by CommentariesDigital-populismEditor’s ChoiceEuropean ObservatoryHome

As digital platforms increasingly shape how citizens encounter politics, longstanding assumptions about democratic competition are being challenged. In this insightful commentary, Yacine Boubia argues that attention has emerged as a distinct and increasingly decisive political resource, reshaping the foundations of legitimacy, influence, and power in contemporary democracies. Drawing on democratic theory, media studies, and political communication, he traces the historical transformation from an era of informational scarcity to one of informational abundance, where political success depends increasingly on the ability to command visibility. The commentary explores the rise of the influencer politician, the structural relationship between attention and populism, and the democratic consequences of communication systems optimized for engagement rather than deliberation. It offers a timely contribution to debates about democracy, media, and political power in the digital age.

By Yacine Boubia 

The dominant frameworks for understanding contemporary democratic politics remain, in their essential structure, remarkably stable. Elections are interpreted as contests between competing ideological visions. Political success is attributed to organizational strength, policy credibility, or the capacity to mobilize voters around shared material and cultural concerns. Institutions are evaluated according to their capacity to translate popular preferences into governing outcomes. These frameworks capture real and important dimensions of political life, and the scholarship they have generated—from electoral sociology to institutional analysis to the study of political communication—constitutes an indispensable foundation for understanding how democracies function.

Yet they have proven increasingly insufficient for explaining a transformation that has reshaped the terms of democratic competition over the past two decades: the emergence of attention as an autonomous political resource, distinct from votes, organizational capacity, or policy credibility, and increasingly determinative of political influence, legitimacy, and power.

This insufficiency is not accidental. The frameworks that dominate political analysis were developed within a communication environment that no longer fully exists. They assumed, often implicitly, that political information was relatively scarce, that citizens encountered it through a limited number of institutionally mediated channels, and that political competition was therefore primarily a competition for votes organized around the capacity to persuade.

The contemporary communication environment inverts each of these assumptions. Information is not scarce but superabundant. Citizens encounter political content through a multiplicity of channels whose institutional character has been progressively dissolved by commercial and algorithmic logics. And political competition, while still ultimately organized around the capacity to win elections, increasingly unfolds as a prior competition for something that votes cannot capture: the capacity to command public attention, to dominate communicative space, and to shape the political reality that citizens encounter before they have formed the preferences that democratic theory assumes they bring to the political process.

Understanding this transformation requires not a new theory of voting behavior but a historical account of how attention became political currency—and what its ascendancy has done to the conditions of democratic governance.

The Scarcity That Democracy Lost

Democratic theory has always assumed a particular relationship between citizens and political information. The deliberative tradition associated with Habermas (1989) posited a public sphere in which citizens encounter competing arguments, evaluate them against shared standards of reasonableness, and form political judgments through processes of communicative exchange. The aggregative tradition associated with electoral democracy assumed that citizens arrive at preferences through exposure to political alternatives and cast votes that translate those preferences into governing authority. Both traditions assumed, in different ways, that the problem confronting citizens was insufficient information — that the challenge of democratic participation was obtaining enough of the right kind of political content to make informed judgments. This assumption structured the institutional architecture of twentieth-century mass democracy: public broadcasting obligations, fairness doctrines, editorial standards, and regulatory frameworks governing media ownership were all, in different ways, responses to the perceived problem of informational scarcity and the democratic imperative to address it.

That problem no longer describes the condition of citizens in advanced democracies. The average American adult is estimated to encounter between six and ten thousand advertising messages per day — a figure that captures only a fraction of the total informational environment within which political content now competes for attention. News alerts, social media feeds, podcasts, video streams, online commentary, and the continuous production of digital content have created an environment not of informational scarcity but of informational superabundance — what the cognitive scientist Herbert Simon (1971) identified, with considerable prescience, as a condition in which the abundance of information creates a corresponding scarcity of attention.

The political implications of this inversion are profound and have been insufficiently theorized. When the scarce resource is not information but attention, the competition that matters is no longer primarily the competition to inform. It is the competition to be noticed—and the rules governing that competition are structured not by the norms of democratic deliberation but by the commercial and algorithmic logics of the platforms and media systems within which it takes place.

How Attention Became Political Capital

The transformation of attention into political capital did not occur suddenly with the emergence of social media platforms. It was prepared by a longer history of media commercialization whose political consequences were identified by critical scholars well before the digital age confirmed them empirically. The postwar settlement that organized mass media in most Western democracies rested on a partial and contested separation between commercial and civic imperatives: broadcasting was regulated as a public good, journalism maintained professional norms that distinguished it from entertainment, and the political information environment was organized, however imperfectly, around standards of balance, accuracy, and democratic accountability. These arrangements were neither neutral nor without their own distortions. But they embedded within the media system a set of institutional resistances to the pure logic of attention maximization that the subsequent decades of deregulation and commercialization systematically dismantled.

The consequences of that dismantling were theorized with particular clarity by scholars working at the intersection of media studies and democratic theory. Neil Postman’s (1985) diagnosis of television’s restructuring of public discourse—its substitution of image, emotion, and entertainment for the sustained argumentative exchange that print culture had historically demanded — identified the fundamental mechanism through which commercial media logic reshapes political communication. Guy Debord’s (1967) account of the society of the spectacle, developed within a different theoretical tradition, converged on the same structural observation: that the commercialization of communication progressively elevates visibility above substance, appearance above reality, and the capacity to capture attention above the capacity to govern. Daniel Boorstin’s (1961) earlier identification of the pseudo-event—the manufactured occurrence designed primarily for media coverage rather than emerging from genuine social processes—provided the most concrete institutional illustration of how the logic of attention transforms political communication from within. 

Writing in different contexts and from different theoretical perspectives, each of these scholars identified the same underlying dynamic: that media systems organized around the capture and monetization of attention progressively reward political actors who can supply what those systems demand, regardless of whether that supply serves the informational requirements of democratic citizenship.

The digital revolution accelerated and intensified this dynamic rather than reversing it. Social media platforms did not introduce the logic of attention maximization into democratic politics. They industrialized it—providing the technical infrastructure to measure attention with unprecedented precision, optimize content for its capture with algorithmic efficiency, and distribute the results at a scale and speed that no previous communication system had achieved. 

The political consequences of this industrialization were not the product of platform design choices made in bad faith. They were the structural output of commercial systems optimizing for engagement in an environment where engagement is measured by emotional activation, identity confirmation, and conflict — the precise communicative register that political communication organized around attention maximization has always, as Postman (1985) and Debord (1967) recognized, tended to favor.

Visibility, Legitamcy, and the Influencer Politician

The transformation of attention into political capital has produced consequences that extend beyond the familiar observations about media spectacle and political performance. Its deepest implication concerns the structural relationship between visibility and legitimacy in democratic politics — a relationship that has been quietly but fundamentally altered by the communication systems within which contemporary democratic competition takes place. Democratic legitimacy has historically been understood as deriving from a set of sources that are, in principle, independent of communicative visibility: electoral mandate, institutional position, policy expertise, party authority, and the capacity to govern effectively. These sources of legitimacy did not require continuous public attention to remain operative. An effective administrator, a competent legislator, or a credible party organization could exercise significant political authority while maintaining a relatively modest public profile.

The contemporary attention economy has disrupted this relationship in ways whose full implications are still being worked out. When political information reaches citizens primarily through platforms that rank content by engagement rather than by institutional authority or deliberative relevance, visibility itself becomes a source of legitimacy—not merely an instrument for communicating it. 

The political actor who commands sustained public attention acquires a form of democratic authority that is structurally independent of, and in some contexts more immediately potent than, the authority derived from institutional position or electoral mandate. This is not simply because attention-commanding actors reach more citizens, though they do. It is because the continuous presence in citizens’ informational environments that platform-mediated visibility provides constitutes, in itself, a form of political relationship—an ongoing communicative connection that substitutes, at the level of felt political reality, for the institutional relationships through which democratic authority has traditionally been organized and experienced.

The emergence of what might be termed the influencer politician represents the clearest institutional manifestation of this shift. Political authority has traditionally derived from the mediating structures of democratic governance: parties, legislatures, bureaucracies, and the formal processes through which citizens delegate authority to representatives accountable to collective institutions. The influencer politician — a figure whose political authority derives substantially from direct audience relationships built through continuous digital communication, personal branding, and the cultivation of online communities — represents a structural departure from this model that existing frameworks of democratic accountability were not designed to address. 

The boundaries separating political communication from celebrity culture and digital content creation have become genuinely blurred, not as a cultural curiosity but as a political-institutional development with significant consequences for how authority is constructed, legitimized, and challenged in contemporary democracies. Zeynep Tufekci’s (2017) account of how digital tools have transformed political organizing captures part of this dynamic, but the influencer politician phenomenon represents a further development: not merely the use of digital tools to organize existing political constituencies, but the construction of political authority itself through the logic of platform visibility.

The Communication Advantage and Its Democratic Costs

The history of modern democratic politics offers a consistent and instructive pattern: political leaders who master the dominant communication technologies of their era acquire advantages that transcend the specific content of their policy programs or the strength of their organizational support. Roosevelt’s fireside radio addresses exploited the intimacy of broadcast audio in ways that opponents trained in the conventions of print-era political oratory were unprepared to match. Ronald Reagan’s command of television — his capacity to project emotional warmth, moral clarity, and direct personal address within a medium that rewarded image and affect over argumentative substance — redefined the terms of presidential communication for a generation, demonstrating that the political resources derived from communication mastery could, in the right conditions, substantially compensate for weaknesses in policy credibility or institutional support. The pattern these cases illustrate is not merely that new media create new political opportunities. It is that new media restructure the entire field of political competition, altering the relative value of different political resources and systematically advantaging actors whose communicative capacities align with the demands of the new environment.

The political actors who have most effectively navigated the attention economy have demonstrated an intuitive understanding of this pattern. Donald Trump’s political communication represented not merely an adaptation to social media but a recognition—more explicit and more strategically deliberate than his opponents acknowledged—that the communication environment had undergone a structural shift whose implications mainstream political practice had not yet absorbed.      

His capacity to generate continuous attention through provocation, conflict, and the deliberate violation of communicative norms that the previous media environment had enforced was not a deviation from rational political strategy. It was a precise calibration to the incentive structures of platforms optimized for engagement, in an environment where engagement is disproportionately generated by content that is emotionally activating and conflict-driven. The platform algorithm did not produce his political style. But the convergence between that style and the reward structures of the attention economy gave him communicative resources that the institutional logic of democratic competition was not equipped to neutralize.

The democratic costs of this dynamic are real but require careful specification to avoid the twin errors of technological determinism and institutional nostalgia. The attention economy does not make deliberative democracy impossible. Citizens retain the capacity to evaluate political arguments, hold leaders accountable, and form political judgments that resist the simplifications that attention-maximizing communication encourages. What the attention economy does is alter the cost structure of different forms of political communication—making conflict cheaper than consensus, simplicity cheaper than complexity, and emotional activation cheaper than deliberative persuasion—in ways that systematically disadvantage the communicative forms that democratic theory has historically associated with informed political participation. This is not a claim about citizen irrationality. It is a claim about institutional design: that communication systems optimized for commercial engagement create structural incentives that are, at their core, in tension with the communicative requirements of democratic governance, and that this tension has political consequences that compound over time.

Attention, Populism, and the Restructuring of Democratic Competition

The relationship between the attention economy and the contemporary rise of populism is neither causal nor coincidental. It is structural. Populism, understood as a discursive political logic that constructs a frontier between an authentic people and a corrupt elite (Laclau, 2005), has always depended on communicative forms that the attention economy systematically rewards: emotional intensity, adversarial simplicity, the clear identification of enemies, and the cultivation of a direct affective relationship between leader and followers that bypasses the mediating institutions of representative democracy. These communicative requirements are not incidental features of populist politics. They are, as Laclau (2005) argued, constitutive of its discursive logic—the means through which diverse and otherwise disconnected grievances are articulated into a unified political identity capable of challenging established power. What the attention economy has done is not create these requirements but dramatically lower the cost of meeting them, providing the technical infrastructure through which populist communication can reach mass audiences at a scale and speed, and with a directness and emotional intensity that previous communication systems did not permit.

The implications extend beyond the electoral fortunes of specific populist movements. The deeper consequence is the progressive restructuring of democratic competition itself around the logic of attention—a restructuring that affects not only explicitly populist actors but all political actors operating within the same communication environment. When visibility becomes a prerequisite for political influence, all political actors face pressure to adapt their communication strategies to the demands of the attention economy, regardless of their ideological commitments or governing ambitions. 

The result is a gradual convergence of political communication styles toward the emotional, the conflictual, and the spectacular—a convergence that the attention economy rewards and that democratic deliberation, in its classical sense, cannot easily survive. Margaret Canovan’s (1999) observation that populism represents the permanent shadow of democracy acquires particular resonance in this context: the communication systems through which contemporary democracy operates have created conditions in which that shadow falls more heavily, and more continuously, than the institutional architecture of liberal democracy was designed to accommodate.

Conclusion: Attention, Democracy, and the Question of Institutional Design

The transformation of attention into political capital is not a temporary disruption produced by the novelty of digital platforms or the exceptional character of specific political figures. It reflects a structural shift in the communication environment within which democratic politics operates — a shift whose origins lie in the deregulation and commercialization of media that began in the 1980s and whose acceleration through platformization has produced a political information environment organized around fundamentally different imperatives than those that shaped the institutional architecture of postwar liberal democracy. 

The political consequences of this shift—the premium on visibility over competence, the restructuring of political legitimacy around audience relationships rather than institutional authority, the systematic rewarding of communicative forms that are in tension with deliberative democratic norms — are not the product of technology alone. They are the product of choices about how communication systems are designed, regulated, and governed, choices that reflect and reproduce particular distributions of power and particular understandings of what democratic communication is for.

The conventional responses to these developments — calls for platform regulation, media literacy education, the reform of campaign finance, or the restoration of public broadcasting — each address real dimensions of the problem without capturing its structural depth. The challenge is not merely to correct specific malfunctions within the existing communication environment but to recover a prior question that the attention economy has rendered increasingly difficult to ask: what kind of communicative infrastructure does democratic self-governance actually require? 

Habermas’s account of the public sphere as a constitutive condition of democratic legitimacy remains analytically indispensable here, not as a nostalgic ideal to be restored but as a standard against which the communicative conditions of contemporary democracy can be evaluated and found wanting. The public sphere that democratic theory requires is one in which citizens can encounter competing political arguments, evaluate them against shared standards of evidence and reason, and form political judgments through processes of collective deliberation. The communication environment that the attention economy has produced systematically undermines each of these requirements — not through overt censorship or deliberate political manipulation, but through the structural logic of systems optimized for engagement rather than understanding, visibility rather than accountability, and emotional activation rather than deliberative exchange.

The question facing contemporary democracies is therefore not simply who commands attention — though that question has become, as this analysis has argued, increasingly central to the distribution of political power. It is whether the institutional conditions can be reconstructed under which attention follows argument rather than precedes it, under which visibility derives from democratic accountability rather than substituting for it, and under which the communicative requirements of self-governance take precedence over the commercial imperatives of the platforms through which democratic politics now predominantly unfolds. That reconstruction is among the most consequential institutional challenges of the present democratic moment — and it cannot be addressed without first understanding, in its full historical depth, how attention became the currency it has.

 

References

Boorstin, D. J. (1961). The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America. Harper & Row.

Canovan, M. (1999). “Trust the People! Populism and the Two Faces of Democracy.” Political Studies, 47(1), 2–16.

Debord, G. (1967). La Société du spectacle. Buchet-Chastel. [English translation: The Society of the Spectacle, Zone Books, 1994.]

Habermas, J. (1989). The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere. MIT Press.

Laclau, E. (2005). On Populist Reason. London: Verso (new edition, 2018).

Postman, N. (1985). Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. Viking.

Simon, H. A. (1971). “Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World.” In: M. Greenberger (Ed.), Computers, Communication, and the Public Interest. Johns Hopkins University Press.

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

Richard Giragosian

Giragosian: Russia Is Increasingly Seen as Part of the Problem by Armenians Rather Than the Solution

by Editor’s ChoiceForeign PolicyHomeInterviews

As Armenia navigates the aftermath of war, the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh, and a far-reaching geopolitical realignment, one question looms large: Can democratic resilience survive amid regional insecurity and great-power competition? In this compelling ECPS interview, Richard Giragosian—Founding Director of the Regional Studies Center (RSC) in Yerevan—examines Armenia’s evolving relationship with Russia, the democratic implications of Nikol Pashinyan’s populist leadership, and the country’s strategic turn toward Europe. Giragosian argues that many Armenians now view Russia as “part of the problem rather than part of the solution,” while emphasizing that Armenia’s recent election represented a mandate for peace, normalization, and democratic continuity. The conversation explores populism in power, post-war identity transformation, Armenia–Turkey normalization, democratic institution-building, and the future of the South Caucasus. Ultimately, Giragosian suggests that Armenia may be less a model than “an accidental exception” in an era of democratic backsliding and geopolitical upheaval. 

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

As Armenia emerges from one of the most turbulent periods in its modern history, the country stands at the intersection of democratic resilience, geopolitical realignment, and post-war transformation. The aftermath of the 2020 war, the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh, deepening estrangement from Russia, and ongoing normalization efforts with Turkey and Azerbaijan have profoundly reshaped Armenian politics and strategic thinking. Against this backdrop, the 2026 parliamentary elections have been widely interpreted as a referendum not only on Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s leadership but also on Armenia’s future place between Russia, Europe, and the wider region.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Richard Giragosian—Armenian-American academic, security analyst, and Founding Director of the Regional Studies Center (RSC) in Yerevan—examines the forces driving Armenia’s remarkable political trajectory. He argues that the election result reflected far more than a geopolitical choice. It represented a mandate for democratic continuity, political stability, and the pursuit of diplomatic normalization with Armenia’s neighbors. As Giragosian notes, the vote marked Armenia’s “third consecutive genuinely free and fair vote,” underscoring the country’s democratic consolidation despite war, insecurity, and external pressure.

A central theme of the conversation concerns the evolution of populism in power. Emerging from the 2018 Velvet Revolution, Pashinyan embodied a rare case of successful anti-establishment mobilization driven by nonviolent popular protest. Yet Giragosian argues that the qualities that enabled Pashinyan’s rise have not necessarily translated into effective governance. While acknowledging the historic significance of the revolution as “a rare victory of nonviolent people power,” he contends that Pashinyan remains “as impulsive as ever, as emotional, and sometimes reckless,” while public policy continues to be “overly centralized in the Prime Minister’s office.” In Giragosian’s assessment, the populist style that propelled Pashinyan to power now coexists with persistent institutional weaknesses and governance challenges.

The interview’s most striking insights, however, concern Armenia’s changing relationship with Russia. According to Giragosian, the war of 2020 and the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh fundamentally altered Armenian perceptions of Moscow. Russia is no longer widely viewed as Armenia’s indispensable protector. Instead, he argues, many Armenians increasingly regard Russia as “dangerously unreliable,” adding that the conflict has led them to see Russia “as part of the problem rather than part of the solution.” This shift reflects not simply a foreign policy adjustment but a broader reassessment of Armenia’s security assumptions and strategic dependencies.

The discussion also explores Armenia’s efforts to balance relations with Europe and Russia, prospects for peace with Azerbaijan, normalization with Turkey, democratic institution-building, and the emergence of a more civic and pragmatic understanding of patriotism. Yet Giragosian remains cautious about presenting Armenia as a model for others. Indeed, he suggests that Armenia may be “less of a lesson and more of an accidental exception”—a rare convergence of democratic mobilization, geopolitical opportunity, and regional recalibration. Whether that exception can endure may prove to be one of the defining questions for the future of the South Caucasus.

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

Armenians Endorsed Peace, Stability, and Democratic Continuity

Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan.
Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan arrives for a meeting of the Eurasian Intergovernmental Council (EAEU) in Yerevan, Armenia, on November 19, 2021. Photo: Dreamstime.

Mr. Giragosian, welcome! To begin, the 2026 Armenian election has been widely interpreted as a public endorsement of Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s strategic reorientation away from Russia and toward Europe. Do you see the result primarily as a geopolitical choice, a democratic mandate for peace, or a vote of confidence in Pashinyan’s leadership despite the trauma of Nagorno-Karabakh?

Richard Giragosian: That’s a very good opening question. The answer is actually all of the above, to varying degrees. In other words, there was undeniably a geopolitical context to this election. But I do think there are two other important elements behind the re-election of the Pashinyan government in Armenia. 

First, it is an important mandate for sustaining the positive momentum of the Armenian government’s policies of diplomatic engagement and normalization with its neighbors. This represents a significant post-war adjustment to a new reality. 

Second, and this is often underestimated, the election marked the country’s third consecutive genuinely free and fair vote. That is extremely important for the further deepening of democracy and the consolidation of these democratic gains. 

So, basically, yes, there was a geopolitical context. But this election was much more a mandate for the government to move forward.

Public Policy Remains Too Centralized in the Prime Minister’s Office

Pashinyan emerged from the 2018 Velvet Revolution as an anti-establishment reformer challenging entrenched oligarchic networks. To what extent does he still embody a populist political project, and how has governing transformed the character of his populism?

Richard Giragosian: What we see, as you correctly identified, is a specific aspect of populism in practice. In 2018, we witnessed a rare victory of nonviolent people power in Armenia. Nonviolence is wonderful, but it usually fails. In this context, it was a unique achievement.

However, Prime Minister Pashinyan’s advantages, assets, and political acumen that allowed him to come to power do not necessarily serve him well in governing the country. In other words, as leader of Armenia, Prime Minister Pashinyan remains as impulsive as ever, as emotional, and sometimes reckless. There is also a degree of inefficiency in governance. Public policy remains overly centralized in the Prime Minister’s office and in the Prime Minister’s hands. So, in this regard, the element of populism that swept him into power does not necessarily make him an effective leader.

Nationalism No Longer Resonates as Strongly in Armenian Politics

Comparative studies often suggest that military defeat weakens incumbents and fuels political backlash. How do you explain Pashinyan’s ability to survive the 2020 war, the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh, and the subsequent political crises while still securing electoral legitimacy?

Richard Giragosian: The re-election of the Armenian government under Prime Minister Pashinyan, despite losing the war, is difficult to explain. But I do have an observation. And it is an observation that remained relevant in the recent election. Simply put, the reality is that there is no alternative to Pashinyan or his government. The opposition then, and the opposition now, remains deeply unpopular, discredited, and too closely tied to the previous authoritarian government. It is also rather weak, given its inability, as an opposition force, to propose any alternative strategy. Simply opposing normalization requires the presentation of an alternative strategy, and that is something the opposition has been unable to offer.

The opposition also reflects the reality that nationalism no longer resonates in Armenia. There are a pronounced acceptance and recognition of the need to normalize relations with Turkey and to engage in diplomatic negotiations with Azerbaijan. Nevertheless, the surprising re-election of the Pashinyan government after losing the war remains an impressive achievement and has sparked a degree of jealousy among many Western leaders.

Armenia Has Passed the Point of Returning to the Pre-War Status Quo

Yerevan.
Souvenir T-shirts displayed at a market in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, on July 5, 2017. Photo: Matyas Rehak / Dreamstime.

You have argued that Armenia has embarked on its most decisive strategic reorientation since independence. Following the election, how irreversible is this shift toward Europe, and what factors could still derail it?

Richard Giragosian: Very good question, Selçuk. What we see is that Armenia has now gone past the tipping point. There is little real risk or danger of returning to the old reality, to pre-war arrogance and a pre-war aggressive posture. We are past that danger. However, it is not necessarily a matter of embracing the Western European model versus escaping the Russian orbit. It is more about Armenia seeking, delicately and under conditions of fragility, to strike a balance within the West-versus-Russia paradigm. This is driving Armenia to diversify and to seek a number of security partners. For example, the only arms procurement deal since the war of 2020 was with India. Very much on purpose—not with the West, but with a partner that is less provocative to Russia. What Armenia is seeking to do is risky, because it may fail. But it would be a greater failure not to try. That means seeking to challenge Russia, while avoiding an overreaction from Russia and carefully choosing its battles.

At the same time, it represents a return to the region. It is a realization that Armenia, like every country, does not choose its neighbors. We have no choice, no alternative, but to build a relationship with Azerbaijan, to normalize relations with Turkey, and to deal with Iran to the south and Georgia to the north. There is no real alternative to geography.

Russian Influence Has Changed, Not Disappeared

You have described Russia as suffering from both geopolitical distraction and declining power projection following its invasion of Ukraine. Has the recent election confirmed the erosion of Russian influence in Armenia, or does Moscow retain significant leverage through economic, security, and social channels?

Richard Giragosian: The short answer is both. The longer answer is yes. Russia remains overwhelmed and distracted by its failed invasion of Ukraine. But that is rather temporary. We do expect a resurgent Russia to return to the South Caucasus and seek to regain its diminished power and influence.

In the case of Russia-Armenia relations, Russian leverage remains strong, although it is different from what it was in the past. Previously, Russian leverage was based on security dependence, with the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict serving as an instrument of influence. Now, however, Armenia’s vulnerability to Russia lies primarily in economics and trade. Russia is Armenia’s largest import-export partner. Armenia also remains a member of the Eurasian Economic Union, to cite two examples.

But if we look at Armenia-Turkey normalization, it underscores the importance and necessity of reopening that border—not only to lower transit costs, but also to create new economic opportunities capable of countering Russian dominance. At the same time, I do think Armenia has an advantage: a rare degree of legitimacy and stability, unlike many countries within the Russian orbit.

The Armenian Sense of Betrayal by Russia Is Deeply Entrenched

Critics of Pashinyan accuse him of fostering anti-Russian sentiment, while supporters argue that Armenia is simply responding to Russia’s failure to honor its security commitments. Is Armenia witnessing the rise of genuine Russophobia, or merely a more realistic assessment of Russia’s reliability as an ally?

Richard Giragosian: To be quite honest and candid, I think the Armenian government is quite correct, as is the majority of Armenian public opinion, in recognizing the threat from Russia. Russia has, belatedly but now quite markedly, come to be seen as dangerously unreliable. There is a deeply entrenched Armenian sense of betrayal by Russia. The war of 2020 and the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh have led many Armenians to view Russia as part of the problem rather than part of the solution. I think this is a realistic assessment. 

I also think the lessons from the relationship with Russia illustrate the absence of any real choice or contest. For example, the European Union and the broader West are engaging with Armenia on the basis of attraction and persuasion. Russian policies toward Armenia, by contrast, have been rooted in coercion and pressure. There is really no contest here.

At the same time, I do think Russia’s arrogance, and its tendency to take Armenia for granted, actually contributed to this pre-existing tension in the relationship. I think Armenia’s future is much more closely tied to self-sufficiency, independence, and its regional role, and much less to being a Russian client, as it was in the past.

Russia’s Election Interference Failed to Deliver the Outcome It Wanted

Reports surrounding the election suggested attempts by Moscow and pro-Russian actors to influence public opinion. How should we understand Russian influence operations in Armenia today, and why did they fail to prevent a pro-Western electoral outcome?

Richard Giragosian: That’s a good question because there is an interesting paradox. Russia’s interference in the election generally failed to achieve any meaningful impact or result. However, we do see a vehemently pro-Russian political opposition garnering seats in the new Armenian Parliament. Two specifically pro-Russian parties were able to secure a significant minority share of the vote. This is an indication that we cannot become complacent about overcoming Russian influence, and that we must also recognize the challenge from within. The old-guard nationalist opposition, which continues to look to Russia, will undermine Armenian independence and challenge its policies toward its neighbors. So, we should not be overly complacent.

At the same time, I do think Russia is quite satisfied with the election result. There was little direct Russian support for the opposition, which would have been a much riskier move. But, for example, Russia is reassured that Armenia remains a member of the Eurasian Economic Union, while Armenia’s room to maneuver toward the West remains relatively limited and constrained. For that reason, I think the next challenge for Armenia will be to succeed in managing this new transactional relationship with Russia.

The European Union Has Become an Important Anchor for Reform

Armenia-EU
Photo: Dreamstime.

In your writings, you have emphasized that Armenia’s democratic development and European engagement are deeply interconnected. Can the European Union become a genuine democratic anchor for Armenia, or does Brussels still lack the strategic commitment necessary for long-term influence?

Richard Giragosian: I would say this is a rare example of the success of the European Union on the ground in Armenia. Certainly, it has served as an anchor for reform. But even more than that, we are witnessing an unprecedented level of EU engagement in Armenia. We see the deployment of EU monitors along the Armenian border with Azerbaijan to help stabilize the security situation. We also see unprecedented security assistance being provided to Armenia through the European Peace Facility (EPF).

What makes this so remarkable is that Armenia still hosts a Russian military base, remains a member of the Eurasian Economic Union, and is also part of the Russian-dominated Collective Security Treaty Organization. Despite these three realities, none of them has prevented the EU from deepening its engagement.

Part of the reason is the reality that Armenia has overtaken Georgia as the leading democracy in the region. There is also, to some degree, a European Union expectation that Armenia—and Armenia’s normalization with its Turkish partner—could help the EU achieve a broader geopolitical objective. In other words, Armenia–Turkey normalization is seen as a positive game changer not only for Armenia, but for the European Union as well.

And finally, Armenia has to be careful not to be used by the European Union or drawn into the broader paradigm of conflict between the EU and Russia that has intensified since the war in Ukraine. Armenia has to be somewhat cautious. But yes, the European Union’s engagement represents an important new element for Armenia.

The South Caucasus Is Unlikely to Remain a Long-Term US Priority

The United States has become increasingly involved in Armenian-Azerbaijani diplomacy. How do you assess Washington’s growing role in the South Caucasus, and could Armenia emerge as a new arena of strategic competition between the United States and Russia?

Richard Giragosian: I’m rather skeptical. I am skeptical about Armenia and the South Caucasus being a sustainable priority within the American national interest. Moreover, if we consider the unpredictability of the Trump administration, I also question the durability of its commitment to, and interest in, the region.

At the same time, Armenia’s diplomatic achievements with Azerbaijan owe much more to the leadership in both Armenia and Azerbaijan and to their bilateral efforts. They were not solely the result of Western or American involvement. In fact, Armenia and Azerbaijan, acting on their own—without Russia and without the West—were able to achieve much more than before.

That said, there has been one very important achievement in terms of the American connectivity initiative. This modestly named Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity envisions road and rail connections through southern Armenia, linking Azerbaijan with its exclave of Nakhchivan and onward to Turkey. This is important not only for the restoration of trade and transportation, but also for the return of deterrence, changing the strategic calculus and significantly reducing the risk of renewed hostilities.

So, when looking at American engagement, the record is mixed. But overall, it is a net positive. For Armenia and Azerbaijan, however, it would be a mistake to assume or rely too heavily on American involvement going forward.

Free Elections Are Necessary, but They Are Not Sufficient

You have often argued that democratic legitimacy is itself a strategic asset. To what extent has Armenia’s democratic trajectory strengthened its international standing, especially when compared with the authoritarian models represented by Turkey, Azerbaijan, and Russia?

Richard Giragosian: There are two concrete and practical advantages that we have seen emerge from Armenia’s legitimacy and democratic credentials. First, there has been a significant improvement in the investment climate. This helps explain the breakthrough agreements in the IT sector, Armenia’s establishment of data centers, its growing use of artificial intelligence, and advances in chip production. AI and chip diplomacy are a direct result of this improved investment climate.

A second notable achievement is that Armenia has come to be recognized as a predictable and reliable interlocutor. That is important both for Ankara and Baku—for Turkey and Azerbaijan. Armenia is increasingly accepted as a dependable, reliable, and predictable partner. In this part of the world, that is a rare achievement, and in many ways, it is even more important than democratic credentials alone.

Now, the bad news. Armenia’s institutional weakness in terms of democracy still needs to be addressed, and strengthening those institutions is just as important as holding free and fair elections. An election is not the answer, nor is it the complete recipe for democracy. Armenia still needs to strengthen its democratic institutions.

Concessions Can Contribute to Peace, but They Cannot Be Unilateral

Aliyev and Erdoğan.
President of Azerbaijan Ilham Aliyev and Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan attend TEKNOFEST in Istanbul, Turkey, on April 29, 2023. Photo: Evren Kalinbacak / Dreamstime.

Pashinyan has presented peace with Azerbaijan as a prerequisite for Armenia’s future security and prosperity. Does the election provide him with a stronger mandate to finalize a peace agreement, or do major domestic and external obstacles remain?

Richard Giragosian: Clearly, yes. The government’s re-election provides a renewed mandate to continue engaging with Azerbaijan and to move the process forward. However, there are still significant challenges, especially regarding the Azerbaijani demand that Armenia amend its constitution, as well as the fact that the bilateral peace treaty has been initialed but not yet signed.

The real difference here, however, is that Armenia has been willing to accept its weakness and embrace its defeat, while also turning the page and moving forward with a much less provocative and much less aggressive posture toward all of its neighbors. So, there is reason for justified optimism. But it also takes two countries to achieve bilateral peace and stability.

Therefore, the next move will have to come first from Azerbaijan and then from Turkey in terms of normalizing relations. Armenian concessions and compromises are important, but they should not be unilateral.

The Constitution Will Remain a Potential Source of Friction

One of the unresolved issues concerns constitutional changes sought by Azerbaijan as part of a final settlement. How politically feasible are such reforms after the election, and do they risk creating a new wave of nationalist mobilization inside Armenia?

Richard Giragosian: That’s a very good point, because despite the re-election of the government, with a working majority and a renewed mandate, the government still fell short of a two-thirds majority in Parliament. That would have been much more helpful for constitutional amendments. The government’s working majority will therefore present a challenge in moving forward with a referendum on constitutional change.

However, we do see a demonstrable climbdown on the Azerbaijani side. They have retreated from their previously maximalist position, and the Azerbaijanis have become much more patient and far less demanding regarding the constitutional change requirement. It is no longer such an immediate prerequisite, which suggests there may be some flexibility, as well as an understanding in Baku that the Armenian government lacks the parliamentary majority necessary to guarantee this demand. So, I do think there is room for flexibility. But yes, it will remain a potential source of friction going forward.

Azerbaijan Continues to Shape the Limits of Turkish Policy

You have argued that normalization between Turkey and Armenia represents a rare opportunity for regional stabilization and economic development. Has the election increased the prospects for genuine rapprochement, or does Azerbaijan remain the decisive variable shaping Ankara’s policy?

Richard Giragosian: To be quite honest, despite the positive re-election of the Armenian government, there had already been notable progress before the election between Armenian and Turkish officials in moving incrementally closer to reopening the border. In this regard, when it comes to Armenian-Turkish normalization, the physical border has not yet opened. But the mental border has, and the issue has become much less poisonous and politically toxic within Turkey. 

However, unfortunately, the Turkish side remains hostage to Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan’s approval and consent remain necessary for the fulfillment of normalization. Much to the frustration of the Erdoğan government, it is Azerbaijan that continues to limit Turkish options in the region. That reality is also rooted in the economic and commercial influence of SOCAR, the Azerbaijani State Oil Company, within the Turkish economy.

Nevertheless, we are seeing growing support and broader constituencies on the Turkish side in favor of reopening the border. And this is not about the Turkish economy in general. It is about the regional economy of eastern Turkey, particularly the underdeveloped and largely Kurdish-populated areas of the east. For the Turkish state, reopening the border is important not only for economically stabilizing the region but also for countering the PKK through jobs and economic opportunity rather than relying solely on police action. So, there is a clear security dimension as well. 

At the end of the day, even for Azerbaijan, Armenia-Turkey normalization represents a rare positive game changer—a genuine win-win.

Armenia May Influence Its Neighbors More Than Its Neighbors Influence Armenia

Armenia’s normalization efforts necessarily involve deeper engagement with two increasingly centralized and authoritarian neighboring states. Do you have concerns that closer political, economic, and institutional ties with Turkey and Azerbaijan could contribute to democratic erosion in Armenia? More specifically, just as Russia has long sought to project its political influence and governance model across the post-Soviet space, is there a risk that Ankara and Baku may also seek to export elements of their own illiberal political models to Armenia? Or do you believe that Armenia’s democratic institutions and growing engagement with Europe are sufficiently resilient to prevent such authoritarian diffusion?

Richard Giragosian: I’m less worried about the potential risk posed by neighboring Turkey or Azerbaijan in terms of eroding the Armenian democratic model, simply because it would be very difficult for Armenia’s population to accept any kind of role for either Turkey or Azerbaijan in shaping Armenia’s political development. The greater risk comes from Russia’s potential external interference.

At the same time, Armenia’s institutions remain rather fragile, vulnerable, and not yet sufficiently resilient. But I do think we are on a positive trajectory. And I also believe that the development of relations between Armenia and Azerbaijan, as well as between Armenia and Turkey, can contribute positively to the democratic outlook of those countries.

So, I would reverse the question and focus on Armenia’s potential positive influence on its neighbors, rather than on the risk of intervention, interference, or democratic erosion emanating from Armenia’s neighbors and affecting Armenia itself.

Normalization Is Only the Foundation for Future Reconciliation

The loss of Nagorno-Karabakh has forced Armenia to reconsider long-standing assumptions about identity, security, and statehood. Are we witnessing the emergence of a new civic understanding of Armenian nationalism, and how might this reshape populist politics in the future?

Richard Giragosian: We are witnessing a sea change in terms of identity. And in this regard, it is not nationalism that resonates. Rather, it is a more mature evolution toward a new concept of patriotism. Specifically, from an Armenian perspective, nationalism can also be very negative, rooted in hatred of the enemy. Patriotism, in contrast, is much more positive. It is based on pride in history rather than hatred of rivals, opponents, or enemies. So, I do think there is a healthy and constructive movement in the right direction.

Nevertheless, it is still grounded in a painful reminder that Armenia was dangerously arrogant, especially in relation to Azerbaijan. There were too many missed opportunities for diplomacy. But Armenia is now cutting its losses and learning painful lessons. And I think the outlook moving forward remains positive. Because for Armenia, the first challenge was recognizing the problem. And that was the first stage in this evolution toward patriotism. It is also about normalization, and understanding what normalization with neighbors is—and is not. For example, in relation to both Turkey and Azerbaijan, this is not reconciliation. It is not even a rapprochement. It is normalization. It is the first step. It is also the basic currency of neighborly relations and the foundation for subsequent reconciliation.

This is why much of the past, including the events of 1915 and the genocide issue, is not part of the normalization process. These issues are not relevant to normalization. They will come later, once that foundation has been put in place.

Armenia May Be Less a Model Than an Accidental Exception

And lastly, at a time when democratic backsliding, authoritarian populism, and geopolitical revisionism are reshaping international politics, Armenia remains one of the few competitive democracies in the post-Soviet space. What lessons does the Armenian experience offer for understanding democratic resilience under conditions of war, external pressure, and geopolitical uncertainty?

Richard Giragosian: To be quite honest, I’m not sure. Armenia may be less of a lesson and more of an accidental exception. In other words, beginning with the change of government in 2018, it was a rare victory of nonviolence, of people power. Despite everything, despite later losing a war, despite Russia, what was the recipe for Armenia? I’m not quite sure. It could have been almost an accident of history.

But theoretically, we would say, sadly, that it took the loss of the war and the subsequent loss of Nagorno-Karabakh before Armenia could begin to rebound. At the same time, much of this opportunity also exists because Russia was distracted by its failed invasion of Ukraine. So, it is somewhat of an accidental convergence of interests.

At the same time, we do see Ankara, Yerevan, and Baku accidentally sharing similar concerns about Russia. There is an understanding that a regional identity, without any third-party involvement, is perhaps the real key to stability in terms of post-war adjustment. 

So, the short answer is: I’m not quite sure I have the answer.

Professor Cengiz Aktar.

Prof. Aktar: The EU Is Systematically Giving False Hopes to Armenia

by Editor’s ChoiceForeign PolicyHomeInterviews

In this timely ECPS interview, Professor Cengiz Aktar examines the political, geopolitical, and democratic implications of Armenia’s 2026 parliamentary elections. While acknowledging Armenia’s democratic resilience in an authoritarian neighborhood, he challenges prevailing narratives about the country’s westward turn, arguing that Armenia’s economic, energy, and security dependence on Russia remains profound. Describing the European Union as “the greatest populist actor in this game,” Professor Aktar contends that Brussels is fostering expectations it cannot realistically fulfill. The interview explores Nikol Pashinyan’s evolving populism, post-Karabakh politics, democratic backsliding, normalization with Turkey and Azerbaijan, Russian influence, and the enduring significance of historical memory. At its core lies a fundamental question: how can a fragile democracy survive amid competing geopolitical pressures?

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Armenia’s 2026 parliamentary elections have been widely interpreted as a pivotal moment in the country’s post-Karabakh trajectory. Taking place amid the aftermath of military defeat, the forced displacement of Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh, ongoing normalization efforts with Turkey and Azerbaijan, and growing tensions between Russia and the West, the elections raised fundamental questions about democratic resilience, populism, sovereignty, and geopolitical realignment in the South Caucasus.

In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Cengiz Aktar—adjunct professor of political science at the University of Athens, guest lecturer at Yerevan State University, and one of the foremost analysts of Turkey-Armenia relations, memory politics, and regional geopolitics—offers a provocative assessment of Armenia’s democratic future and its increasingly complex international environment.

While acknowledging Armenia’s democratic achievements, Professor Aktar stresses the extraordinary constraints under which the country operates. As he observes, Armenia remains “the only democracy in the Caucasus, indeed in the region,” a small, landlocked state surrounded by authoritarian neighbors and exposed to intense geopolitical pressures. Yet he warns that many assumptions currently shaping discussions of Armenia’s future rest on unrealistic expectations regarding Europe’s role and capacity.

The most striking theme of the interview concerns Armenia’s growing rapprochement with the European Union. Contrary to prevailing narratives that portray Armenia’s recent political direction as a decisive shift toward Europe, Professor Aktar argues that Armenia’s economic, energy, and security dependence on Russia remains overwhelming and cannot be easily replaced. In his view, European policymakers are encouraging expectations that they cannot realistically fulfill. “None of this can be replaced by the European Union,” he argues. “Yet the EU is systematically giving false hopes to Armenia. In that sense, the greatest populist actor in this game is Europe. Because Europe is offering hopes that it simply cannot fulfill.”

Professor Aktar is equally skeptical of assumptions that Armenia faces a straightforward geopolitical choice between Russia and Europe. While recognizing the country’s genuine democratic aspirations and strong cultural connections with Europe, he contends that geography, energy dependence, trade networks, and security realities continue to bind Armenia closely to Moscow. For this reason, he warns that unrealistic promises of European integration may ultimately prove counterproductive, potentially undermining Armenia’s stability while provoking Russian backlash.

The interview also explores Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s evolving populism, the politics of peace and normalization with Turkey and Azerbaijan, democratic backsliding, Russia’s continuing influence, historical memory, and the unresolved legacy of the Armenian Genocide. Throughout, Professor Aktar returns to a central dilemma confronting Armenia today: how a fragile democracy can preserve its autonomy and democratic character while navigating an increasingly hostile regional environment shaped by authoritarian power politics and great-power competition.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Professor Cengiz Aktar, lightly edited for clarity, readability, and publication.

Armenians Were Tired of War, and Pashinyan Successfully Capitalized on That Fatigue

Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan.
Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan arrives for a meeting of the Eurasian Intergovernmental Council (EAEU) in Yerevan, Armenia, on November 19, 2021. Photo: Dreamstime.

Professor Aktar, welcome! You recently argued that the 2026 elections would reveal the direction of Armenian democracy after the trauma of Karabakh and the pressures of regional geopolitics. How should we interpret Nikol Pashinyan’s re-election? Does it represent a democratic endorsement of his peace agenda, or merely a choice of the “least risky” option in a constrained political environment?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: Before going into the details of the Armenian political microcosm, we should underline that this small country— less than 30,000 square kilometers after all—completely landlocked and surrounded by two enemy nations, Azerbaijan and Turkey, is the only democracy in the Caucasus, indeed in the region. This is something that people tend to forget. They are doing their best to remain a democracy. It is not easy because they have to deal with anti-democracies. But so far, they have been doing all right.

We will see how the final results of these elections play out. They are not final yet, and there are many issues—we will come to them. We will see the outcome and how the authorities address some of the serious questions that have arisen after the elections.

That being said, the people have re-elected the Prime Minister and, at the end of the day, endorsed his views. This is quite a remarkable achievement because, normally, when a leader loses a war and, moreover, loses a territory—which is the case with Nagorno-Karabakh, a historic Armenian land that was given by the Soviets to Azerbaijan and later reclaimed by Azerbaijan through war with Armenia, openly and extensively supported by the Turkish armed forces—the political consequences are severe. The reality was therefore quite harsh for a prime minister seeking a new mandate. Yet he succeeded. Of course, this may seem contradictory or paradoxical, but it is not.

There are two elements at play here. We could talk for hours about this. As you know, I have written extensively on the subject in Turkish for Agos, the Armenian newspaper published in Turkey in both Turkish and Armenian.

The first and foremost reason is that the people of Armenia are tired of fighting. There is a clear war fatigue. Although we cannot compare it to what is happening in our region, in Mesopotamia and elsewhere, this sense of insecurity has been very real. The Prime Minister used—and abused—this feeling extensively, essentially saying: if you do not vote for me, we will go to war. That was, of course, highly manipulative and a very populist way of dealing with such a sensitive issue as peace and security. Nevertheless, it worked.

The second element is that this country is virtually unrecognizable. I have been going there since 1990, and today Armenia is experiencing a boom in personal spending and consumption. It is becoming a mass-consumption society of the kind we saw in Western Europe after 1945. This, of course, is music to the ears of the Armenian public. I visit regularly, but this time I was genuinely amazed by the number of brand-new cars. There are hardly any old cars left in the city. Everybody seems to have a new one. Where does this money come from? Of course, no one asks such questions. But the main source of these finances, as in other countries of the region—including Turkey, Georgia, and others—comes from sanctions-busting.

The West—the United States and the European Union—sanctioned Russia, first after the annexation of Crimea and then following the full-scale war against Ukraine. Yet many countries have been circumventing these sanctions. This is not speculation. There are extensive reports on the matter, including in leading newspapers such as the Financial Times, documenting the flow of goods and cash to and from Russia. Russian gold, for example, moves through the South Caucasus and then to China and India, where it is processed and made marketable before returning to Russia. As one can imagine, this trade is extremely lucrative, and we see its effects in the economy of Yerevan.

So, all in all, the people have voted—although not for a full majority, and we will come to that. They voted for a different type of future. That is understandable. But is it sustainable? I think that is the real question.

Who Is Not Populist When Seeking Re-Election?

Pashinyan originally emerged from the 2018 Velvet Revolution as an anti-establishment figure challenging entrenched oligarchic networks. To what extent can he still be understood as a populist leader, and how has his populism evolved from opposition mobilization to governing power?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: Who is not populist, Selçuk? Especially when one is running for re-election. It is almost compulsory to be a populist, unfortunately. Nikol Pashinyan was in full swing when it came to populist moves, actions, speeches, and narratives. That is all true. But it worked. The question is whether he really represents a future for the country. Some observers say so, but at what price? That is the real issue, the real problem that Armenians will have to confront sooner or later.

What he has managed to achieve with Turkey and Azerbaijan—two longstanding foes of Armenia—is not yet fully accomplished, but it is on track; it is in the pipeline. However, it has been pursued through, once again, a very populist way of handling highly sensitive matters. It has been achieved by making huge concessions to both countries, without really receiving anything in return. This is very dangerous in the sense that one cannot ignore the imbalance involved.

I often think of a famous observation by Henry Kissinger, who was not exactly a commendable figure. He used to say that the best and most sustainable peace deals are those concluded by parties that leave the negotiating table equally dissatisfied with the outcome. That is very true. Yet in the case of Armenia and Azerbaijan—and also Turkey—that did not happen, and it will not happen, because Azerbaijan and Turkey do not have much to offer in return, except perhaps opening the border in Turkey’s case, and maybe Azerbaijan’s as well.

Even then, there are enormous conditions attached before anything concrete can happen. As you may have noticed, there has been much discussion in the Turkish media about the possibility that the two land border crossings could open during the summer. We will see whether Azerbaijan will allow Turkey to move forward with this symbolic—or perhaps concrete—opening of the border, which has been closed since 1993. That is a very long time.

As of today, the 12th of June, only five days after the elections, there remains a great deal of uncertainty. The Prime Minister did not get everything he wanted, and the opposition actually performed quite well. Does that mean that those who voted for the opposition are pro-Russian or anti-Western? I do not think so. That would be far too hasty a conclusion.

Frankly, I remain quite skeptical about the future, and there are some very unpleasant developments unfolding at the moment. But we will come to those in due course. 

People Were Willing to Sacrifice Almost Anything for Peace

Armenia protest.
Anti-government protesters gather in front of the Armenian government building in Yerevan on December 9, 2020, demanding the resignation of Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan following the Nagorno-Karabakh war. Photo: Corneius Brandt / Dreamstime.

Comparative scholarship often suggests that military defeats weaken populist governments. Yet Pashinyan survived both the 2020 war and the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh. What explains his resilience, and what does it tell us about the relationship between populism, accountability, and democratic legitimacy?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: Democratic legitimacy is a big word. But frankly, as I said at the beginning, the appeal of a consumer society and the symbolic peace narrative played a major role. Pashinyan used this message effectively, even adopting the little heart as the symbol of his campaign, which is totally un-Armenian. It is not something that is commonly used in Armenia, nor in the Caucasus. Anyhow, these two elements—peace and consumption apparently worked. That is the reality. But again, are they sustainable? That is the question.

It worked perfectly. Elderly people were appearing on television, in street interviews and similar formats, saying remarkable things about the importance of peace at any cost. They were prepared to give up almost anything in exchange for peace and greater consumption. So, once again, the question remains: is it sustainable? I do not think so.

The Dominant Geopolitical Orientation Remains Russia, Not Europe

Many observers described the election as a referendum on Armenia’s geopolitical orientation. Do you think Armenian voters primarily voted on domestic democratic concerns, or was this fundamentally a choice between Russia and Europe?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: In Armenia, since the Velvet Revolution of 2018, there has been a genuine sense of democratic aspiration within society. Of course, not every individual is pro-democracy or democratic—that exists nowhere in the world—but overall, the aim, the tendency, and the willingness are there. Armenians want to build a democratic society.

But there are major impediments. It is a very small and a very dependent country. Despite the strong Western tropism that developed during the election campaign, particularly through the major event that took place in Yerevan at the beginning of May—the annual meeting of the so-called European Political Community, which was revived by Macron after an earlier French initiative had been abandoned in 1954—the reality remains quite different. The European Political Community is not a binding European institution; it is essentially a talk shop. Yet during this gathering, the whole of Europe was present, along with Canada, and they all delivered very warm messages to the Armenians. The message was essentially: “You are now part of Europe. You are welcome,” and so on.

But the reality is not quite that. The dominant and determining geopolitical orientation of Armenia remains Russia, not the West. Everything that happened during May before the elections—including these Western visits and those from the United States as well; the Vice President was there in March, carried the same message: “Armenia, we love you, and you are one of us.”

What explains this sudden affection? It is rooted in the anti-Russian policies of the West. In a sense, Armenia has been used for that purpose. Now tensions are emerging with Russia, which remains by far Armenia’s most influential neighbor. Armenia depends on Russia on an unbelievable scale. This dependence cannot be replaced or superseded by any European initiative, however well-intentioned. Geographically, historically, politically, and economically, it is impossible.

You have read what I have written about this dependency. More than 82 percent of Armenia’s gas and energy needs are covered by Russia, at an extraordinarily low price—$177.5 per 1,000 cubic meters of gas. There is nothing comparable anywhere else. If Russia were to change that arrangement unilaterally, Armenia would face tremendous difficulties. Not to mention Metsamor, the country’s only nuclear power plant, located near the Turkish border. It was built by the Russians, and Rosatom supplies its fuel. Nor should we forget the petrol and oil products that Armenians use every day in their new cars. There is also the enormous Russian market for Armenian products such as fruits, vegetables, and flowers.

None of this can be replaced by the European Union. Yet the EU is systematically giving false hopes to Armenia. In that sense, the greatest populist actor in this game is Europe. Because Europe is offering hopes that it simply cannot fulfill. People are now even talking about future EU membership for Armenia. But that is out of the question. One of the indispensable conditions for EU membership is territorial continuity. So where is the territorial continuity? It simply does not exist. It will not happen. There is no realistic chance whatsoever. Yet people are buying into this rhetoric without fully understanding the realities involved, and in the process they are jeopardizing the country’s relations with Russia. That is where we find ourselves today.

Russia Remains the Ultimate Game Changer in Armenia

You have repeatedly emphasized Moscow’s declining credibility in Armenia after its failure to prevent the loss of Karabakh. Has Russia now lost its position as Armenia’s primary external reference point, or does it still possess significant instruments of influence inside the country?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: Of course, as I said, yes. Russia remains the game changer in Armenia. Armenians are certainly not in love with Russia, particularly since the Russians did nothing to stop the Azeris and the Turks from taking back Nagorno-Karabakh. So, every Armenian has reason to be unhappy about what Russia did. But, the reality is something else. As I explained, the country remains highly dependent on Russia, and that dependence will not change from one day to the next.

Moscow May Have Felt No Need to Interfere

Yerevan.
Souvenir T-shirts displayed at a market in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, on July 5, 2017. Photo: Matyas Rehak / Dreamstime.

Several reports suggested Russian attempts to influence the election through economic pressure, disinformation, and support for pro-Russian actors. How should we understand these efforts within the broader framework of transnational authoritarian influence and democratic resilience?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: The OSCE’s Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) was there. The ODIHR has a specialized body that monitors elections in OSCE member states, and it was present during these elections as well. According to ODIHR, there was no interference whatsoever. There was a great deal of fake news on the subject, but neither the Electoral Commission nor the independent media found any substantial evidence of vote-buying or influence operations orchestrated by Russia.

On the contrary, there were reports concerning officials from Civil Contract, Nikol Pashinyan’s party, exerting pressure on civil servants to vote for Civil Contract. A civil servant is, after all, an obedient servant, so if the boss says, “Go and vote for me,” he or she generally will. These kinds of irregularities were noted.

Overall, however, I do not think that Russia intervened in the Armenian elections. If I put myself in the position of Russian decision-makers, I would say that they are probably so confident in their leverage over the Armenian economy that they felt no need to intervene directly in order to influence the outcome of the elections.

European Tropism Is a Myth and a Pipe Dream

The election result appears to strengthen Armenia’s rapprochement with Europe. In your view, is this shift primarily strategic and security-driven, or does it also reflect a deeper normative commitment to liberal democracy and European political values?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: No, as I said, this European tropism is a myth. It is a myth. Armenians are not discovering Europe. Armenia is, in a way, a very European country. Just look at the diaspora. The European Armenian diaspora is very strong and remains highly present in Armenia itself. If you compare the two countries, for instance Azerbaijan and Armenia, Armenia is by far more European than Azerbaijan, which has virtually no connection to Europe whatsoever. There is no significant Azeri diaspora in Europe. That is not the case with Armenia. Armenia knows what Europe means, in a way.

But, having said that, I repeat: this European tropism is a pipe dream. It is a personal choice, but it will not have any real consequences for the development of Armenian democracy in the foreseeable future. They are not there, and they will not be there.

The Americans are another matter altogether. They are much more focused on transactionalism. They buy and sell, and they do not care at all about the democratic future of any country in the world—including their own.

Autocratic Tendencies Are Clearly Visible

Some critics argue that Pashinyan has displayed increasingly personalized leadership tendencies and a growing concentration of power. Do you see signs of democratic erosion under his government, or are such concerns exaggerated given Armenia’s broader regional context?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: The trend is troubling. There have been some anti-democratic and illegal actions directed against the opposition, but not only against the opposition. Let me give you the example of the director of the Genocide Museum in Yerevan. This lady offered a book to the American Vice President during his visit to Yerevan. The book dealt with the fate of the Nagorno-Karabakh Armenians. As you know, 150,000 Armenians were forced to flee Nagorno-Karabakh. She was subsequently sanctioned by the Prime Minister, who forced her resignation. This is far from any democratic way of handling public affairs. The lady was compelled to resign and was replaced by a bureaucrat close to the Prime Minister who has no real understanding of the history of the Armenian genocide.

He is also challenging the role of the Church. Etchmiadzin, the Holy See, is systematically under pressure from the government. That is not the role of a government—to intervene in the affairs of the Church, whatever the circumstances. There may be all sorts of accusations against the head of the Church, Karekin, involving embezzlement and other matters, but that is not the role of a government.

During the campaign as well, there were some quite worrisome developments targeting opposition figures, and these developments are still continuing.

Moreover, the election results are not yet entirely clear, because we still do not know whether a fourth party will make it into Parliament. Unfortunately, since the closure of voting on the night of the 7th June, there has been considerable pressure on election officials to ensure that this fourth party remains below the 4 percent threshold and does not enter Parliament. By cheating, of course. 

And now the scandal is completely out in the open. All opposition parties are protesting loudly. They are taking the matter to the Electoral Commission and will probably proceed to the Constitutional Court afterwards in order to seek a proper resolution, because this party’s votes have been cancelled. The objective has been to ensure that it does not enter Parliament and remains below the 4 percent threshold. We cannot call this democratic. It is anti-democratic, it is illegal, and it challenges the principle of free and fair elections. So, are there autocratic tendencies? Yes, definitely. They are very much there. Are they widespread? No. But the danger is there.

Concessions Without Reciprocity Create Fragile Peace

Armenia-Azerbaijan-Turkey flags.
Photo: Dreamstime.

Pashinyan campaigned explicitly on a message of peace with Azerbaijan and normalization with Turkey. Is this the emergence of a new political cleavage in Armenia between peace-oriented pragmatism and nationalist revisionism?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: It is a good question. National revisionism, okay—but revise what? Those who challenge the Prime Minister’s positions, policies, actions, and narratives are saying something that is very meaningful. They say: “We are not against peace.” After all, who can be against peace? Who can be in favor of war? That is a form of universal wisdom. But they are asking a different question: How did you achieve that peace? What do you receive in return when you make concessions to Azerbaijan and Turkey? 

That is the real question. It is fascinating to observe that a very similar dynamic is unfolding in Turkey with the Kurds. The Kurds speak about peace, a peace process here and a peace process there. But what do they receive in return from the Turkish state? In line with their longstanding demands—for example, the freedom of the Kurdish language and the recognition of Kurdish as an official language in Turkey—they receive nothing.

It is the same in Armenia. The practice is exactly the same. Everybody talks about peace, but when you ask what they receive in return for their concessions, the answer is: nothing. They say they receive peace. But this peace exists entirely under the shadow and control of the other parties, who can challenge it at any moment. They have not given anything themselves, and therefore they can always come back and say: “No, we want more.”

That is precisely what is happening now. As you may know, before the elections—more specifically on May 15—there was an important development. The Azerbaijani ambassador to Ankara openly and quite happily declared that the opening of the border between Turkey and Armenia was directly linked to the so-called peace process between Armenia and Azerbaijan, and that Baku and Ankara were coordinating their moves and policies. 

He was speaking on behalf of Baku, and the condition for this so-called peace process was—and still is—a change to the Armenian Constitution. Specifically, Azerbaijan wants the removal of the provision concerning Nagorno-Karabakh, which is referred to in the Armenian Constitution as an Armenian territory, or as a territory inhabited by Armenians. In other words, Baku wants Yerevan to eliminate this provision, and this remains the principal condition for accepting a lasting peace with its neighbor.

The problem is that, in order to do that, the Prime Minister needs a two-third qualified majority in Parliament, which he did not obtain. Now, with all the controversy surrounding vote-rigging and alleged manipulation concerning the fourth party I mentioned earlier, I do not see how he can satisfy the Azerbaijani demand by amending the Constitution and removing the reference to Nagorno-Karabakh. This means that the prospects for peace with Azerbaijan—and, consequently, with Turkey—are in serious difficulty.

They are compromised, and no one can foresee the outcome at this stage because we still do not have the final count, nor do we know exactly how many parties will ultimately enter Parliament. But in any case, even if the fourth party fails to enter Parliament, the ruling Civil Contract party still lacks the necessary majority to amend the Constitution. So, we are facing a deadlock, and no one really knows how it will evolve.

The Perversion of Justice Starts With the Denial of Memory

Professor Aktar, you have often argued that Turkey cannot become a fully democratic society without confronting its historical crimes, particularly the Armenian Genocide. How does the current normalization process affect questions of historical justice, memory, and democratic reconciliation?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: This is a question that really deserves a separate discussion, but in a nutshell, I can offer an example. Turkey is in dire straits. Turkish democracy does not exist. In fact, I would argue that it never truly existed. But the rule of law, for which Turks have struggled since 1923—and especially since the end of the Second World War—is now gone as well.

These are structural problems, even structural diseases. I do not particularly like using that term, but this is what we are dealing with: a dysfunction that goes back to the founding sin of the state—the Armenian Genocide and the Syriac Genocide, which are inseparable and which occurred more than a century ago.

A country that does not come to terms with such a painful and sinful past can easily digest other sins, as is the case today, including sins that are far less serious and far less painful than what happened 111 years ago.

What I am saying is not abstract. I am not talking about ghosts. I am talking about the perversion of the sense of justice in this country. And I am quite sure that Turkey will not make it through the remaining decades of the twenty-first century without recognizing, reflecting upon, and recalling this tragic past, which ultimately resulted in the disappearance of the entire non-Muslim population of Anatolia. We are talking about three million people.

So, it is really a matter of either-or. What is the significance of an embezzlement scandal involving a Turkish politician—for instance, Erdoğan—when compared with genocide? It is nothing. It is peanuts.

Therefore, a population, a polity, a society, and a state that do not wish to remember what happened a century ago—which was carried out by Turks and Kurds —can easily digest, accept, and live with far less serious wrongdoings, as we see happening today.

This is simply a normal consequence of this absence of memory, or rather this voluntary loss of memory and de-memorization of the past. It is very dangerous, and it is very unhealthy.

False European Hopes May Push Armenia Back Into Moscow’s Orbit

Armenia-EU
Photo: Dreamstime.

And lastly, Professor Aktar, at a time when much of the post-Soviet space is characterized by authoritarian consolidation, Armenia remains one of the few competitive democracies in the region. What lessons does the Armenian experience offer for understanding democratic resilience, populism, and geopolitical pressure in the twenty-first century?

Professor Cengiz Aktar: Interestingly, we began our discussion with this point, and we will conclude with it as well. Armenia remains the only country in its immediate neighborhood that is genuinely trying to remain a democracy. The next democratic country, after all, is Greece, which is quite far away.

It is doing its best to preserve democratic governance. But it is extremely difficult to survive in a non-democratic, and even anti-democratic, environment when you are surrounded by countries that do not share the values, principles, and norms of democracy.

This is not merely a theoretical issue; it is a practical one. Non-democracies and anti-democracies can conclude agreements with democratic countries, sign them, and then simply ignore their commitments. Because they are not accountable. A non-democratic or anti-democratic regime is not accountable to its population. It simply does not care.

Take Russia, for example. I mentioned earlier the figure of $177 for 1,000 cubic meters of natural gas. That gas is supplied under an agreement between Moscow and Yerevan. But Moscow, as a non-democratic—indeed, a totalitarian—state, can simply say: “We are no longer bound by that agreement. We are raising the price to the international market level of $600. Take it or leave it.” This illustrates the difficulty of operating—and indeed surviving—in such an environment. I sincerely hope that the Armenians will manage and succeed.

The problem is that the false hopes offered by European countries and by the European Union itself are not helpful. In fact, they indirectly push Armenia back into Moscow’s orbit and deeper into Russia’s sphere of influence. The Russians are already deeply upset with the Europeans, not least because of what is happening in Ukraine. And they are unlikely to tolerate what they would perceive as a second strategic setback in their immediate neighborhood. After all, the Caucasus is their backyard.

There is one final point. Anyone interested in the South Caucasus should take a serious and analytical look at what happened in Georgia. Georgia went through a very similar process—loosening its ties with Russia and moving closer to the West. In the end, it failed. The country ended up with two portions of its territory effectively invaded and, while not formally annexed, indirectly administered by Russia. Meanwhile, all the Western hopes and aspirations of eventually joining the European Union have faded away. They are gone. Finished. Today the country is governed by a tycoon who is completely infatuated with Moscow.

This, unfortunately, is the reality of the South Caucasus. We will see how things evolve. I wish the very best to Armenia, but the task before it is not easy at all.

Residents flee burning homes in Belfast.

When Integration Falters, Nativism Advances: Europe’s Liberal Dilemma

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceEuropean ObservatoryExtremism & RadicalisationHomeMigration

Dr. João Ferreira Dias argues that the rise of anti-immigrant unrest across Europe reflects not simply tensions over migration, but a deeper crisis of democratic integration. In this timely commentary, he contends that diversity alone cannot sustain social cohesion without strong institutions capable of transforming difference into common citizenship. Drawing on scholarship by Robert Putnam, David Goodhart, Yascha Mounk, and others, Dr. Dias examines how weakening civic institutions, declining social trust, and unresolved integration challenges create fertile ground for nativist mobilization. Rather than framing the debate as a choice between openness and exclusion, he calls for renewed attention to the civic foundations that make pluralism politically sustainable. At stake, he argues, is Europe’s ability to reconcile diversity, solidarity, and democratic stability.

By João Ferreira Dias

Recent episodes of anti-immigrant unrest in cities such as Southampton and Belfast are often interpreted through the lens of public order, criminality, or political extremism. Yet these events may also be symptomatic of a deeper challenge confronting liberal democracies across Europe: the growing tension between openness and social cohesion.

One of the defining assumptions of the late twentieth-century liberal order was that increasingly open societies would naturally generate greater inclusion. Diversity, mobility, and multiculturalism were frequently treated not merely as compatible with democratic stability, but as self-evident expressions of it. What this assumption overlooks, however, is that openness alone does not produce integration.

Democratic societies require more than legal frameworks and economic opportunities. They depend upon a shared civic foundation capable of sustaining trust, cooperation, and political legitimacy. As Robert Putnam (2007) argued in his influential work on diversity and social capital, heterogeneity can enrich societies in the long term, but it may also create short-term challenges for social trust when institutions fail to mediate difference effectively.

The fragility of contemporary liberal democracies lies not in diversity itself, but in the weakening of the mechanisms that transform diversity into common citizenship. Schools, political parties, trade unions, local associations, and public institutions historically played a crucial role in integrating individuals from different backgrounds into a shared civic culture. When these mediating institutions weaken, identities that might otherwise coexist within a broader political community increasingly become sources of social fragmentation (Judt, 2010).

Immigration policy illustrates this dilemma particularly clearly. Contemporary European migration regimes often emerge from the intersection of several legitimate objectives: humanitarian obligations, historical responsibilities, labor market demands, and demographic decline. Yet political debate frequently neglects a more uncomfortable question: the absorptive capacity of receiving societies.

The notion that democratic states must continuously assess their capacity to integrate newcomers is often portrayed as morally suspect, as if limits necessarily imply exclusion. Yet a growing body of scholarship suggests the opposite. Sustainable inclusion requires not merely access, but incorporation into a common civic framework defined by rights and responsibilities, constitutional norms, linguistic participation, gender equality, and democratic values (Mounk, 2022; Miller, 2016).

Without such a framework, diversity risks evolving from pluralism into segmentation. Social groups become increasingly disconnected from one another, trust declines, and political entrepreneurs find fertile ground for mobilizing resentment. It is under these conditions that nativist movements gain traction.

The appeal of contemporary nativism rests on a powerful narrative: that European societies are losing control over their cultural continuity, historical identity, and political sovereignty. Whether empirically accurate or not, this perception acquires political force when citizens conclude that mainstream institutions are either unwilling or unable to address concerns related to integration, social cohesion, and public order.

Importantly, the rise of nativism should not be understood as a simple reaction to immigration itself. Such explanations are analytically insufficient. The same levels of migration can produce dramatically different political outcomes depending on the strength of institutions, the effectiveness of integration policies, and the degree of social trust present within a society (Goodhart, 2017; Krastev & Holmes, 2019).

The danger emerges when individual acts of crime, disorder, or social conflict cease to be interpreted as the actions of particular individuals and instead become symbolic markers of collective identity. In such contexts, immigrants are increasingly viewed as representatives of an undifferentiated out-group, while native populations come to see themselves as members of a threatened in-group. The resulting dynamic resembles what social psychologists have long identified as the transition from individual judgment to group-based political cognition.

History suggests that democracies become particularly vulnerable when they lose the ability to interpret and respond to the anxieties of their own citizens. Polarization thrives when complex social challenges are reduced to simplistic moral binaries, dividing societies into opposing camps of “us” and “them.” In this environment, both exclusionary nativism and uncompromising forms of ideological universalism feed off one another, narrowing the space for pragmatic democratic solutions.

The challenge facing Europe today is therefore not simply whether to accept more or fewer immigrants. It is whether liberal democracies can rebuild the institutional and civic foundations necessary to transform diversity into solidarity. The question is not openness versus closure, but whether openness can remain politically sustainable without a renewed commitment to integration.

The events witnessed in Southampton, Belfast, and elsewhere may not signal the inevitable triumph of nativism. They do, however, suggest that the political center is increasingly squeezed between competing certainties: on one side, an understanding of inclusion that often underestimates the importance of social cohesion; on the other, a nativist reaction that seeks belonging through exclusion.

Europe’s democratic future may well depend on its ability to recover the difficult middle ground between these two positions.

References

Goodhart, D. (2017). The Road to Somewhere: The Populist Revolt and the Future of Politics. London, UK: Hurst.

Judt, T. (2010). Ill Fares the Land. New York, NY: Penguin Press.

Krastev, I., & Holmes, S. (2019). The Light That Failed: A Reckoning. London, UK: Allen Lane.

Miller, D. (2016). Strangers in Our Midst: The Political Philosophy of Immigration. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Mounk, Y. (2022). The Great Experiment: Why Diverse Democracies Fall Apart and How They Can Endure. New York, NY: Penguin Press.

Putnam, R. D. (2007). “E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and Community in the Twenty-first Century.” Scandinavian Political Studies, 30(2), 137–174.

Cargo ship transporting containers of waste to a recycling facility. Conceptual image of global waste trade and environmental pollution. Photo: Evgeniy Parilov | Dreamstime.

Waste Sovereignty and Plastic Colonialism: Environmental Power and Populism in the Global Political Economy of Waste

by ArticlesEditor’s ChoiceEnvironment & ClimateHomeJournal of Populism Studies

DOWNLOAD ARTICLE

Please cite as:
Solaja, Oludele Mayowa. (2026). “Waste Sovereignty and Plastic Colonialism: Environmental Power and Populism in the Global Political Economy of Waste.” Journal of Populism Studies (JPS). June 11, 2026.  https://doi.org/10.55271/JPS000124



Abstract

Plastic pollution is one of the most pressing environmental problems of the twenty-first century, but the governance of global plastic waste is remarkably unequal. Significant volumes of plastic waste from developed countries are exported to developing countries in the Global South, where waste management infrastructure and regulatory capacity are often limited. While this movement of waste across borders is frequently discussed in terms of recycling efficiency or waste management capacity, these transactions are deeply embedded in unequal power relations within the global political economy. This article proposes a theoretical framework called Waste Sovereignty Theory (WST), which explains how international waste trade reproduces environmental power asymmetries between exporting and importing nations. Drawing on political ecology, environmental justice, postcolonial environmental governance, and emerging scholarship on environmental populism, the paper conceptualizes transboundary plastic waste flows as a form of plastic colonialism in which the ecological costs of production and consumption in wealthy countries are displaced onto less powerful states. The article introduces a Waste Sovereignty Theory Framework (WST Framework) that links four key dynamics—plastic production, transnational waste trade, governance inequality, and sovereignty claims—to explain contemporary struggles over environmental authority in the Global South. Using illustrative cases from Southeast Asia and Africa, the article demonstrates how states and communities respond through waste import bans, stricter regulatory regimes, waste repatriation policies, and the promotion of domestic recycling industries. These responses are interpreted not only as efforts to reclaim environmental governance but also as expressions of environmental populism, whereby affected populations challenge environmental burdens perceived as imposed by distant political, economic, and technocratic elites. Waste sovereignty thus emerges as both a claim to environmental justice and a form of political resistance against unequal structures of global environmental governance. The article argues that addressing the global plastic crisis requires more than technological improvements in waste management; it demands institutional reforms capable of confronting the structural inequalities embedded in contemporary systems of production, consumption, and environmental governance.

Keywords: Waste Sovereignty, Plastic Colonialism, Environmental Populism, Global Waste Trade, Environmental Governance, Political Ecology, Environmental Justice, Circular Economy, Global South

 

By Oludele Mayowa Solaja

Introduction

Plastic waste constitutes one of the leading contemporary environmental problems in the 21st century. Over the last decades, production of plastics in the global South have rapidly increase from less than 1 million tons per year in the 1950s to more than 400 million tons in a year and rapidly growing international plastic waste trade networks (Geyer et al., 2017; Zhao et al., 2021; Clapp, 2022). Although plastic waste is created around the globe, its environmental burden has been distributed unevenly, that is, wealthy industrialized countries ship vast amounts of their waste to the Global South countries whose institutions and capabilities are often unable to manage this commodity (Brooks et al., 2018; Clapp, 2021). This paper considers that what often appears as technical problems with waste management or efficiency of recycling, are the consequences of underlying structural power relations within political economy that shaped global politics of waste management.

The political ecology literature frames such dynamics within a politics of unequal access to environmental resources. International industrial and consumer economies are producing vast flows of unwanted materials whose disposal is often externalized, whereby they can find an outlet within the weaker regulatory systems found in some Global South countries, leading to environmental contamination and informal dumping and recycling networks (Pellow, 2018; Liboiron, 2021). This is a pattern of waste colonialism where environmental harm produced by global industrial capitalism can be displaced from wealthy consumer economies to the periphery through the waste trade (Pellow, 2018; Liboiron, 2021). This in turn constitutes ecological distribution conflicts, whereby environmental burdens and their subsequent harm fall unevenly between social groups and geographic territories (Martinez-Alier, 2002).

Emergent trends in international waste markets highlight the politicization of these dynamics. The closure of the Chinese market to the majority of foreign waste exports under the National Sword policy in 2018 led to the redirection of massive flows of plastic waste to countries in Southeast Asia and Africa, overwhelming the existing domestic waste management systems of these recipient countries. Consequently, governments from the Global South such as Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines and a host of African states have since imposed new regulations and repatriated illegal shipments of plastic waste, showing the burgeoning politics of the waste system.

Most academic literature on the global plastic crisis frames plastic waste as a technical problem of recycling efficiency or waste management systems, however there is an important politics of why environmental problems and the burden of waste are distributed unevenly. More focus has not been paid to the issue of environmental sovereignty – a State’s/Community’s authority over their environmental resource system, including regulation of trans-boundary flows and their control over development pathways, as a source of environmental power and control within global waste flows governed by the trade regime, global corporate supply chains, and disparities in regulation.

This article theorizes the politics of global waste governance by developing the Waste Sovereignty Theory (WST), which frames global waste systems as arenas of political struggle over authority where States and communities contest the uneven distribution of ecological burden. Waste Sovereignty Theory framework links four key mechanisms-production, trade networks, disparity in regulation, and sovereignty claims-to illuminate the operation of environmental power within current waste regimes. Waste sovereignty, within WST, signifies the authority of States, communities and social movements to assert control over the management of waste systems, including import flows, domestic recycling industry development and environmental common preservation. 

In this article, waste sovereignty is defined as the capacity of states, communities, and social institutions to exercise political, ecological, and economic authority over the governance of waste within their territories. This includes the power to regulate transboundary waste flows, control domestic recycling infrastructures, determine environmental standards, and shape the economic systems through which waste materials are managed or transformed into resources. Within the Waste Sovereignty Theory Framework (WST Framework), waste sovereignty therefore represents a form of environmental authority through which political actors contest the unequal distribution of ecological burdens generated by global production and consumption systems.

The theory of Waste Sovereignty extends the field of environmental governance in three main ways; first, situating the plastic crisis within the politics of production, consumption and the externalization of environmental impact. Second, it develops the discourse of environmental justice by placing issues of ecological inequity alongside control over environmental governance systems. Third, it theorizes responses to plastic waste in the Global South as claims to sovereignty from the peripheries in the form of restrictions on imports, new legislation, domestic recycling industries development etc.

Therefore this paper answers the questions: how does global plastic waste trade create a power disparity and how can the Waste Sovereignty Theory frame the emergence of fights for environmental governance in the Global South? Showing the dynamics of the WST through cases from Southeast Asia and Africa, the paper argues that plastic waste has become a politically embedded global issue and its solutions need to transcend purely technical strategies of waste management and recycling, and include the politics of environmental power and sovereignty within the waste system.

Read the Full Article

 

Internship

Internship Positions at the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS)

by ECPS YouthEditor’s ChoiceHome

DOWNLOAD ANNOUNCEMENT

Duration: 6 months 

Commitment: Part-time(10 hours per week) 

Location: Remote internship

Description

The European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) is looking for motivated interns to join our team. As an intern, you will have the opportunity to enhance your analytical thinking, academic writing, research skills, and organizational and networking abilities in a dynamic multicultural environment. The internship will begin at the end of February and willlast for six months.

Main Tasks

•     Conduct academic research (primarily desk research) and write essays, commentaries, and articles on topicscovered by ECPS research programs, including authoritarianism, digital populism, economics, gender, migration, environment and climate, extremism and radicalization, foreign policy, human rights, global peace and order, and leadership.

•     Prepare briefs and reports summarizing monthly and annual activities (such as panels, seminars, and conferences) for publication on the ECPS website.

•     Assist ECPS experts in organizing various events (including book talks, seminars, panels, summer schools, and symposiums).

•     Support the ECPS team with communication activities, such as preparing the online newsletter and managing social media accounts.

•     Contribute to project applications (e.g., EU-funded projects).

•     Help implement ongoing projects, including data collection, report writing, dissemination, communication activities, and event organization, depending on ECPS’s role in the project.

Who We Are

The European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) is an independent, nonpartisan, nonprofit organization based in Brussels dedicated to researching and analyzing the challenges posed by rising political populism. ECPS promotes anopen society by adhering to the principles of liberal democracy, including the rule of law, human rights, pluralism, freedom of speech, gender equality, social and environmental justice, transparency, and accountability. We facilitate collaboration among networks of academics, practitioners, policymakers, media, and other stakeholders. We offer a platform for exploring policy solutions related to rising populism and provide insights for effective policymaking and critical analysis. To achieve this, ECPS produces research publications, policy reports, white papers, and commentaries, conducts interviews with experts, and organizes events, seminars, workshops, and conferences.

Qualifications and Experience

Essentials

•     Possess at least a master’s degree in social sciences (applications from master’s students at the stage of dissertation writing will be accepted)

•     Knowledge and/or interest in global politics and populism-related topics, particularly in, but not limited to, the European context

•     Knowledge and experience in academic writing

•     Knowledge of scientific methodology (qualitative or quantitative research methods)

•     Fluency in the English language (both verbal and written)

•     Excellent influencing, facilitation and communication skills (both orally and in writing)

•     Being able to work, organize and prioritize autonomously

•     Being competent in off-the-shelf software (MS Excel, Word, Outlook and PowerPoint)

•     A collaborative team member

•     Experience of work/study in a multicultural environment

•     Possess a creative, proactive and open mindset with high respect for deadlines.

What We Offer

•     Enlarge your network with academics, policymakers, project experts and other stakeholders across Europe

•     Learn about populism and gain a deeper insight into contemporary issues in European and global politics

•     Publish your research product and related outputs through ECPS

•     Take part in the EU events, academic conferences, seminars, workshops, project preparation and implementation activities in Brussels

•     Improve your organizational, communication and networking skills through actively taking part in ECPS events

•     Opportunity to be a permanent member of the ECPS Youth

•     Gain invaluable experience in an international and multicultural environment

Internship Conditions

The internship is unpaid, remote and part-time for 6 months starting at the end of September 2026.

How to Apply?

If you are interested in joining us and making ECPS your next professional experience, please send your CV and cover letter (a maximum of one page) to Seyma Celem at scelem@populismstudies.org midnight CET on September 15, 2026, with the subject line “Internship at ECPS.”

Unfortunately, we cannot respond to every application; only short-listed candidates will be contacted. However, allapplications will be kept in file, and candidates will be contacted if a suitable opportunity arises. The information provided in the applications is subject to EU legislation on the protection of personal data and confidentiality of information.

ECPS is committed to diversity and inclusion to ensure that everyone has equal opportunities for employment, advancement, and retention, regardless of their gender, age, nationality, ethnic origin, religion or belief, cultural background, sexual orientation, or disability.

Rudy deLeon

Rudy deLeon: We’re in a Turbulent Time, Made Even More Turbulent by a Trump Administration That Is Not Strategic

by Editor’s ChoiceForeign PolicyHomeInterviews

In this timely ECPS interview, Rudy deLeon—former US Deputy Secretary of Defense and Senior Vice President for National Security and International Policy at the Center for American Progress (CAP)—offers a far-reaching assessment of the mounting challenges confronting the liberal international order. Drawing on decades of experience in national security and alliance management, de Leon argues that the world is entering a period of profound uncertainty marked by geopolitical rivalry, democratic strain, technological disruption, and a vacuum of strategic leadership. Criticizing what he describes as an increasingly unpredictable and insular US foreign policy, he warns that “what America says on Monday is not what it says on Thursday.” The interview explores NATO’s future, transatlantic relations, US–China competition, populism, artificial intelligence, migration, and the strategic dilemmas shaping global governance in the twenty-first century.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

At a moment when the liberal international order faces mounting pressures from geopolitical rivalry, democratic backsliding, technological disruption, and the resurgence of authoritarian power, questions about the future of American leadership have acquired renewed urgency. In this wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Rudy deLeon—former US Deputy Secretary of Defense and Senior Vice President for National Security and International Policy at the Center for American Progress (CAP)—offers a sobering assessment of the strategic challenges confronting the United States and its allies in an increasingly fragmented world.

Drawing on decades of experience in defense policy, alliance management, and international security, de Leon, as one of Washington’s most experienced national security practitioners, argues that the world is entering a period of profound transition marked by uncertainty and the absence of strategic leadership. While emphasizing that the post-1945 order helped prevent great-power war, preserve peace in Europe, and facilitate the rise of global economic integration, he warns that many of the assumptions underpinning that order are now under strain. As he puts it, “all these things are in play,”from climate change and migration to artificial intelligence, shifting demographics, and renewed geopolitical competition. Yet, he contends, the situation has been aggravated by “a president and an administration that are not strategic, that are not diplomatic, and that are very insular.”

Throughout the interview, deLeon repeatedly returns to the importance of long-term strategic thinking. Contrasting the institution-building vision of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower with contemporary policymaking, he argues that today’s American leadership often operates without a coherent strategic framework. “What America says on Monday is not what it says on Thursday,” he remarks, describing a pattern of unpredictability that has generated anxiety among allies and weakened confidence in US commitments.

The discussion examines a wide range of contemporary issues, including NATO’s future, transatlantic relations, the rise of China, the implications of populism for international cooperation, and the evolving relationship between democracy and globalization. De Leon also explores how technological transformations, particularly artificial intelligence, may reshape labor markets, democratic governance, and international competition. In his view, policymakers remain overly distracted by ongoing military conflicts while neglecting the strategic questions that will define the coming decades. “The most pressing issue right now,” he argues, “is to figure out what the rules are for artificial intelligence and what that means for the nature of work.”

Ultimately, this interview is not simply an assessment of American foreign policy under Donald Trump. It is a broader reflection on leadership, institutions, and the future of international order in an era when, as de Leon suggests, the questions confronting policymakers may be more consequential than the answers currently available.

Here is the revised version of our interview with Mr. Rudy deLeon, lightly edited for clarity, readability, and publication.

Has the Postwar US Leadership Model Ended?

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

Mr. Rudy deLeon, welcome! To begin, for decades, the United States positioned itself as the principal guarantor of the liberal international order. How do you assess the Trump administration’s apparent shift from alliance leadership toward a more transactional understanding of international relations? Does this represent a temporary deviation or a structural transformation in America’s global role?

Rudy deLeon: That’s an excellent question, and it’s being asked in the capitals of Europe, in Asia, but particularly here in the United States.

We had a period from 1945 to 2016, where there was an architecture globally to prevent another big war. NATO, outreach in Asia—if you go back to the big summit of Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin as World War II was coming to an end, Stalin was all about the boundaries of Poland, and Churchill wanted to reestablish the British Empire, particularly in the Levant. What FDR and the Americans wanted were institutions to prevent a third world war from occurring. One of those institutions was the Marshall Plan, which later became the US Agency for International Development (USAID). Another was, simply, to reconcile Germany with France and England.

The only way that meeting would occur was if Eisenhower returned to active duty and became president of Columbia University in New York. Truman recalled him to active duty, and he chaired the first NATO meeting between Germany, Britain, and France. The alliance grew and expanded. It had different roles in the Cold War. The key was those institutions that would prevent another big war from occurring. It allowed for the mostly peaceful rise of China into this modern period. It also kept the peace in Europe.

One of the downsides, as much as we protested, was that Americans became the policemen of the world. Usually, it didn’t end well. Nonetheless, the intentions were there. That gets us to the 2016 presidential election. So now, you’re right: what is the status of America’s global alliances?

We have a lot of economic changes that are in progress. We also have generational changes going on now. All of those are on the table. So, the current president, Donald Trump, comes along, and he stirs the pot everywhere.

But whereas FDR, Eisenhower, and Truman were very strategic at the beginning, the current administration does it one day at a time. What it says on Monday is not what it says on Thursday. As a consequence, there is an insecurity, a disruption that is in progress, all while hotspots remain. China is potentially gaining economic centers. All these things are in play right now.

Why Strategic Leadership Matters More Than Ever

Many scholars now speak of a process of “negative convergence,” in which democratic and authoritarian powers increasingly adopt similar practices of executive centralization, nationalism, and disregard for international norms. Do you see evidence of such convergence in contemporary global politics, and what implications does it have for the future of democratic governance?

Rudy deLeon: You’ve described the current global situation, which is one of change. In many ways, it’s remarkable how, from 1945 to 2016, there was a consensus. You know, when Neil Armstrong set down on the moon, the population of the planet was 3 billion. Today, it’s 9 billion, and it’s increasing very quickly. And with that have come these new issues of climate and migration, as well as the issue of globalization and economic distribution. 

In ways that the US and Europe were once central, they are now key partners. So, we’re in a period of change, and what we would like most right now would be a steady leader—one who had a strategic bone, who could create a consensus with the Congress, as well as allies. We don’t have that right now, and that is part of the disruption. Again, what America says on Monday is not what it says on Thursday.

Considering the role that the Americans have played, not simply in balancing a lot of rivalries and tensions around the world, but also in navigating their own sometimes complicated politics, that’s part of the tension points that we see right now. Add to that the role of climate. Add to that migration.

Then there is the rise of technology, first going from analog to digital and now, soon, potentially to artificial intelligence. What does this mean for the Americans, for the Europeans, for the Chinese, in terms of their own economic solvencies? All these things are in play. And yet there’s a vacuum of leadership and strategic thinking globally, and that is to our detriment.

NATO’s Enduring Value Beyond Military Power

NATO
NATO headquarters and monument in Brussels, Belgium, the political and administrative center of the North Atlantic Alliance. Photo: Dreamstime.

President Trump’s decision to reduce the US military presence in Germany has raised concerns about the future of transatlantic security. How significant is this move for NATO’s credibility, and could it accelerate Europe’s search for greater strategic autonomy?

Rudy deLeon: We’re best when we find ways to work together and to share common interests as well as values. The decision to remove 5,000 troops from Germany may not necessarily reflect a long-term change. Definitely, it reflects Trump’s thinking. And again, as we’ve noted, this is not a strategic administration. This is something that changes day to day, and we see that in our politics.

I think Congress, particularly the Senate, has had a long-time vested interest in institutions like NATO. They were a military alliance, but they were also a political alliance. And, as we see these new forums—Shangri-La in Asia, but also Munich—the Munich Security Conference has become a key moment in terms of the transatlantic dialogue.

So, right now, you can hear some of the strongest voices coming from the Senate and the congressional delegations that go and attend, while the administration, the Secretary of State, and the National Security Advisor play a secondary role.

So, yes, the administration in power, the Trump administration, would like to cut back on NATO. The institutionalists in Congress, who actually, at the end of the day, write the appropriations bills, have a different view—a more long-term view. But that’s playing out, and it played out in the 2024 election. It’ll play out again in the midterms that are coming up here in 2026, and then in the 2028 presidential election.

The long-term view in America and the world—Americans were isolationists. Coming out of World War I, it left a reminder of why young Americans should not necessarily end up on European battlefields. There was a tremendous discussion in the country on that topic. But, at the end of World War II, we’re back to FDR’s view that these institutions could hold a global dialogue together. And that was Eisenhower. That was certainly Truman. Definitely Ronald Reagan. Bill Clinton, too.

But since then, we’ve seen sort of less of a focus. we’re back to the policemen of the world, whether it’s Afghanistan or the Korean Peninsula, South Korea. You know, entangling ourselves in these long-term regional conflicts has not worked out very well for the Americans, but we learn this lesson over and over.

There’s still a little bit of a residue from the long-term deployments of troops to Iraq, as well as Afghanistan. And so now, we see those changes reflected in the current administration. They’re not necessarily long-term. But I’m back to it being a much larger world, going from 3 billion to 9 billion. And migration—going to where the food and the water are—is part of that story.

All these things are in play. We’re in a turbulent time, made even more turbulent by a president and an administration that are not strategic, that are not diplomatic, and that are very insular.

Are US Allies Losing Confidence in Washington?

You have previously argued that American leadership remains indispensable to regional and global security. In light of recent developments, are traditional US allies beginning to view Washington less as a security guarantor and more as a source of strategic uncertainty?

Rudy deLeon: I think that’s a fair description of the messages that are coming from Washington, and if you’re not a Washington policy insider, you can quickly come to that conclusion. These long-term relationships are at risk. The relationship between the United States and NATO was—is—more than simply a security arrangement. It is a diplomatic center of dialogue and exchange that covered issues well beyond Europe, including the Middle East process. 

When peacekeepers need to go in, you’ll see Americans, but more likely you’ll also see British, French, Italian, and sometimes now even German peacekeepers join those deployments. When NATO countries are deployed into a tense third-party area, the Americans and their European partners bring with them a dedication to the rule of law, a commitment to diplomacy, and an open door in terms of dialogue and exchange.

It’s been tough in the Middle East. There have been a lot of painful lessons for Americans and the French, in particular, as peacekeepers in challenging areas. The Turks can sometimes play a constructive role here. But to step back from that is to invite chaos coming forward. And again, this period from 1945 to 2016 was one of mostly great stability and continuous dialogue.

The Americans still have to come to grips with this intense, intrinsic desire to be the policeman to settle disputes. But indeed, these relationships have been essential, need to be essential, and these will be topics for the presidential debate in 2028.

Global Governance in an Era of Strategic Drift

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

Across Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, we are witnessing efforts by states to hedge against American unpredictability. To what extent do initiatives such as the 2026 Shangri-La Dialogue reflect a broader search for alternative security architectures beyond US-led frameworks?

Rudy deLeon: Good question and the answer is well decided and written about by historians. But I think that you have other factors. First, we have the unpredictability of the Trump administration. They don’t know where they are on Monday, let alone on Thursday. So there is a lack of a strategic approach.

Second, you have the rise of China, not so much as a regional power, but in particular as a global economic power. And so that is changing relationships. The notion of “made in China,” rather than “made in Europe” or “made in the United States,” has definitely been a factor in globalization.

The migration of people, again, as populations increase, from areas where there is not food and water to trying to get to other places, particularly North America or Western Europe, is a challenge that needs a long-term solution.

So I would say that in 2026, we are dealing with a world that is now much different. Not quite 100 years later, but much different from the world that was created at the end of World War II. Dean Acheson referred to that as Present at the Creation, which is about how to build peace across the European continent and then peace across the Pacific. And so now, with these factors of population, the unpredictability of American leadership, and a Middle East that tries to move in a progressive way but, it seems, takes one step forward and then two steps back, all these are challenges on the agenda. They suffer from an administration that right now is not strategic, that has simply a short-term view of all of these factors, and tends to go back and forth.

Why Dialogue Still Matters in Global Politics

How do you interpret the relationship between contemporary populism and the weakening of the rules-based international order? Are populist governments inherently skeptical of multilateral institutions, or is something deeper occurring in the structure of global politics?

Rudy deLeon: I think the generations have changed. We had a World War II generation that Americans would sometimes call their greatest generation. Then we have the baby boomers. If Truman, Eisenhower, and Roosevelt are World War II generation, then Kennedy, Reagan and Clinton were part of the baby boomers in their period. Now, as we’re into this next changing generation that has mostly risen with computers, lived in the digital world, and has more information flow than any previous generation, not only have the politics of the era changed, but the nature of work has changed, as well as the distribution of resources. All of these things need to be settled out.

I do think that if the Americans can continue to have a strategic rather than a populist orientation, then we can develop those partnerships that have been so valuable over the last 80 years. But it’s a challenge. The modes of communication are so much different. The availability of information is instantaneous. I can read the papers in Europe, or the China Daily, the papers from San Francisco or Seattle with regularity in Washington, D.C.. The availability of information has made everything instantaneous. Yet, our processes for making decisions still require consensus and dialogue back and forth. As we come to grips with how we use all of these new tools of information in constructive ways—because I think we’re still learning—that will be a big change.

There’s an interesting parallel to this in terms of American history, and that was the arrival of the telegraph in the early nineteenth century. Prior to the telegraph, information would move only as quickly as a horse could ride from one town to the next. But with the telegraph, the debates in New England could suddenly be shared in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Illinois. And so the politics, the issues, started to change because the regions could talk to each other. 

Now, we have constant back and forth. One thing that unites the ‘souk’ shopping area in the Emirates and the student in Shanghai is the earbuds. You see young people connected to that Apple iPhone with earbuds in. So that is making some changes as well.

We can look beyond the disruptors in our politics, but also recognize that the economic relationships are changing, and the sharing of information is changing. Now, what Americans, along with the British and the Soviets, did was learn how to lead. They created their separate spheres of interest, but they always were able to maintain a dialogue. I think right now, the notion that somehow everybody can go their own way and take care of themselves turns out not to be a recipe that works. We’ve seen that play out far too many times.

The Information Age and the Limits of Liberal Assumptions

AI
Photo: Dreamstime.

The post-Cold War order rested heavily on the assumption that economic integration would reinforce liberal democracy. Yet today, authoritarian powers appear increasingly confident and influential. Has that assumption fundamentally failed?

Rudy deLeon: I don’t think it’s failed. I think it’s the vulnerability of transitioning into this information-based world, where everyone can dial into the information that they want. What does that mean? It means you’re going to dial into a place where you have an agreement with them. You’re not going to necessarily dial into places that are offering a different viewpoint. So, you’re susceptible to an echo chamber of political thought.

But I do think that, at the end of the day, the rise of the powerful individualist nationalists will have to give way to a common world that has to deal with climate. It has to deal with the distribution of resources, the West and its engagement with the developed and developing worlds of Africa and Asia. Those will have huge consequences for everyone.

At the same time, in Asia, for example, we see the deployment of DPRK, North Korean soldiers, to Ukraine to fight with the Russians. We see that as the emergence of an unexpected power center in Asia. That should be sending off alarm bells in Tokyo, Seoul, as well as Beijing. Because suddenly, an unexpected Asian power has demonstrated an expeditionary capability to send troops to Europe.

What does that mean in the long term? It’s an interesting discussion in terms of what goes on in Tokyo. Thought in Tokyo is less examined than what Kim Jong-un is wanting to do right now. The North Korean soldiers end up with better food and better equipment on the Russian side in Ukraine. So that’s a surprise—the expeditionary nature of the North Koreans going to Europe. What does that mean for the Republic of Korea, which has its own internal disputes right now, its own set of arguments? And then what does that mean for a rising China that looks at the North Koreans on its border and has to wonder: What is our relationship with that country, and what kind of a threat does that essentially mean for the region? 

The Unfinished Story of China’s Global Role

You have written extensively about US–China cooperation and competition. In an era marked by growing geopolitical rivalry, do you still see meaningful space for cooperation between Washington and Beijing on global challenges, or are we entering a prolonged period of strategic fragmentation?

Rudy deLeon: That chapter is still to be written. In terms of China and its integration with the West, it’s a different model than we have seen historically. When Japan rose in the 1930s, it was an exceptional builder of ships, airplanes, and the tools of war. China has those skills. But as a global supplier of, essentially, products ranging from electronics—not automobiles, which Europeans and Americans still dominate on the consumer side—but other utilitarian items, China has to decide: Does it want to be a global military power? It has a long way to go to achieve that, as opposed to being an economic power.

David Miliband, who was the Foreign Minister of Britain while President George W. Bush was in office, came to Washington and said, “Well, you Americans are focused on Iraq and the Middle East. The rest of the world now notes that everything is made in China. That’s an issue for you to consider and to think about.” Power is being redefined in that period from 2016 going forward, as part of Trump’s tenure. How are we going to deal with the economic power of China, its potential use of political influence, and Russia, which is in decline but still has the ability to project military power?And then, despite all of the efforts to secure some kind of regional balance in the Middle East, that’s become extremely difficult.

So agendas are changing. I think you’re right to postulate that question. China’s going to play a big role. They seem to be more interested in their economic role as a manufacturing power than they do in terms of being a diplomatic or political power.

Why Policymakers Must Look Beyond Current Wars

Some analysts argue that the retreat of the United States from global leadership creates opportunities for authoritarian powers to shape international norms and institutions. Do you share this concern, and if so, where do you see the most significant risks emerging?

Rudy deLeon: I agree with the first part of the question, which is that the Americans have been less strategic, particularly since 2016. Can that change? The twenty-first century began in 2001 with the highest of expectations, but here we are in 2026, a quarter of a century later, and we’re once again facing all of these challenges. The distribution of economic resources. Military conflicts that don’t have an easy end. Troublesome diplomacy. 

So, I would say the future is still to be shaped. The next 25 years are still open to be shaped, and they could go in many different directions. The most pressing issue right now for policymakers is to figure out what the rules are for artificial intelligence and what that means for the nature of work.

For Americans and Europeans alike, the availability of work was one of the things that made for healthy democracies. However, the availability of work today is certainly changing. If you have high-end skills in one economy, but lesser skills in another, you’re at minimum wage and don’t have as many opportunities.

So, these are all factors in play right now. We’re too distracted by wars in Iraq or Afghanistan, by Ukraine, or now by Iran. We need to get back to some of the strategic issues that are going to be so critical going forward.

What King Charles Revealed About America’s Political Moment

King Charles.
King Charles III during a wreath-laying ceremony at St. Nikolai Memorial in Hamburg, Germany, during his state visit, March 31, 2023. Photo: Heide Pinkall / Dreamstime.

The Trump administration often frames international politics in terms of sovereignty and national interest rather than shared democratic values. What impact does this discourse have on democratic forces and civil societies operating under authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes around the world?

Rudy deLeon: We’ve always had this notion of Jacksonian democracy, going back to Andrew Jackson in the nineteenth century. In shorthand, it was that “one man smells like the next,” meaning the farmer in West Tennessee or Ohio had as much right to economic opportunity as the banker in Philadelphia. That populist battle has remained present in America and has always been part of our political life. And I think we’re seeing it move forward right now. Again, in terms of the nature of work being a great equalizer, I’ll end with that: work, learning, and change. The distribution of resources is changing as well.

So, I think we start not so much with an answer, but by constantly trying to reframe and narrow the questions into areas that are workable in terms of reaching out. But I was just going to add the great irony of having the King of England speaking to the Congress of the United States.

King Charles, along with his mother, Queen Elizabeth, are the only monarchs of that nature to come and speak to the Congress. King Charles was very warmly received for the clarity of his remarks and for the stability of his personality. Remember, the Americans are still the creation of the Europeans, with a lot from Britain, not so much from France, but a great deal from Germany and Italy, as well as from Ireland and Scotland.

I think the King’s remarks were a reminder of our roots and of the fact that we have more to gain from each other. It was also a reflection of the fact that the clarity with which the King spoke was probably a wish that our own leadership right now could have that same clarity of strategy, purpose, and integrity when they speak.

Can the West Renew Strategic Leadership?

You have participated in and written about major security dialogues throughout your career. Looking beyond the 2026 Shangri-La Dialogue, what kinds of alliances, institutions, or coalitions are most likely to shape the next phase of global governance? Will the future belong to renewed multilateralism, competing blocs, regional security architectures, or entirely new forms of international cooperation?

Rudy deLeon: You have framed something important here. Sometimes generations are described by answers, and sometimes they are framed by questions. You have really, for 2026, framed so much that the questions right now are more important than the answers. Will the Americans and the West continue in a series of alliances that will bring stability to the global order? That’s been essential. We took it for granted. It was there, and now that we see it being less influential, we worry a little bit more.

Now, the American reach still remains. Our Navy can still reach places that no one else can reach. China is trying, and it can get to some places, but not all places. And those Americans in Germany had less to do with German security and more to do with keeping the historic European competitions from rising again and troubling each other on the European continent. Those 5,000 US soldiers in Germany were a reminder of the stability that was brought through the diplomatic and economic tools established at the end of World War II. For more than 75 years, we were able to keep broad peace in Europe, together with North America, and for the most part in Asia. So, we did better on strategic security than we did on our irresistible tendency to rely on a powerful military and end up being the policeman in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran.

When World War II came to an end, the Deputy Japanese Foreign Minister showed up on the deck of the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay and, in his formal diplomatic attire, stood across from Douglas MacArthur. He offered what the British call a kowtow. It’s not a complete bow, but it is a lowering of the head and body. Conflicts don’t end like that now. They end up with murky lines of demarcation that require diplomacy and economic efforts.

So, I think that, for the Americans coming out of Afghanistan and Iraq, and now dealing with Iran, the policing role is not necessarily a successful global strategy. We’ve got to get back to the broader question of how we maintain strategic dialogue. How do we maintain critical alliances? How do we talk to each other when we agree, and how do we talk to each other when we disagree?

History is full of surprises. What holds China back right now is the one-child policy. The assumption in the West was that China would become the largest consumer economy in the world and therefore come to dominate everything. Well, it turns out that, with the one-child policy, there aren’t enough consumers, let alone enough young people to join the Army and Navy of the People’s Republic of China. So, history has a way of introducing its own surprises. And that’s where we are right now.

But can Americans lead again in a constructive way after 2028? That is one of the big questions that hangs over American politics, our transatlantic dialogue, and the role of America and the West in the world.

Associate Professor Stefano Bottoni of the University of Florence.

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

by AuthoritarianismEditor’s ChoiceEuropean ObservatoryHomeInterviews

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

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without European Support, Serious Accountability Would Be Difficult to Achieve

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

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

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

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

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

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

You Cannot Build Democracy with a State Apparatus Forged by Autocracy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Building Democratic Consciousness Takes Decades, Not Election Cycles

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

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

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

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

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

Magyar Must Fight Corruption Without Creating Chaos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hungary Needs Publicly Funded and Politically Free Research

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Greatest Mistake Hungarians Made Was Giving Politicians a Blank Check

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A New Civic Patriotism Is Emerging Alongside European Belonging

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

South Africa.

Survival Populism and the Crisis of Belonging in Post-Apartheid South Africa

by CommentariesEditor’s ChoiceExtremism & RadicalisationHome

In this commentary, Dr. Oludele Solaja challenges conventional explanations of xenophobic violence in South Africa by underscoring the concept of “survival populism.” Rather than viewing anti-immigrant mobilization simply as irrational hatred or economic frustration, Dr. Solaja argues that it represents a decentralized form of grassroots political reasoning emerging from structural abandonment, fractured citizenship, and deep socio-economic inequality. Drawing on the legacies of apartheid, decolonial theory, and contemporary populism studies, the commentary explores how marginalized communities construct exclusionary notions of belonging in their struggle for resources, dignity, and recognition. By examining xenophobia as a political response to insecurity rather than merely a social pathology, Dr. Solaja offers a compelling reinterpretation of populism from below and highlights the profound crisis of citizenship, solidarity, and democratic inclusion in post-apartheid South Africa.

By Dr. Oludele Solaja

Familiar narratives about unemployment, criminality, poverty, and social frustration have been used repeatedly to account for recurrent attacks against foreign nationals in South Africa. Politicians, commentators, and sometimes even academics depict xenophobic violence as either “irrational hatred” or “spontaneous public anger” over economic decay. Such accounts, although not completely false, are analytically weak. They do not reflect the underlying political logic of anti-immigrant violence in post-apartheid South Africa. Xenophobia in this case is not only hatred toward foreigners; increasingly, it has come to constitute a form of grassroots political reasoning rooted in conditions of structural abandonment, economic precariousness, and fractured citizenship.

What we have witnessed in South Africa might best be described as survival populism: the everyday, decentralized form of exclusionary politics in which economically marginalized populations establish moral and territorial boundaries in an effort to safeguard their access to scarce resources, space, urban living, and social legitimacy. Unlike conventional populism mobilized by leaders with charismatic personalities in an electoral context, survival populism evolves horizontally through conversations, neighborhood watch meetings, community patrols, forums, taxi associations and informal markets, in addition to social networking sites. It is populism without populists; an everyday political reasoning that communities use to construct a definition of “the people” in contrast to outsiders.

The above understanding challenges popular thinking on populism within contemporary political theory. Most studies of populism concentrate on political actors of elite origin such as the United States’ Donald Trump, Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro, or Hungary’s Viktor Orban, who have mobilized nationalist resentment via an anti-elite and anti-immigrant stance (Mudde & Kaltwasser, 2017). Within this context, populism is understood as an electoral strategy led by charismatic personalities. What takes place in South Africa is different in that xenophobic mobilization seldom appears through coherent ideologies and central leaders. Rather, exclusionary politics arise from what could be called everyday populism: everyday political reasoning that shapes a people against outsiders.

From Internal Foreigners to External Outsiders

This differentiation is critical because it exposes populism as not just a form of political expression occurring in parliaments, ballot boxes or rallies, but also an element that emerges from places of survival like informal settlements, townships economies, crowded taxi ranks and local markets where politics takes place through practical struggles.

The architecture of exclusion has much to do with the history of South Africa as not merely a racial but also a spatial and economic system defined by the containment of Black South Africans. Pass laws, migrant labor hostels, separate territorial structures, and fragmented spatial organization resulted in a society in which Black Africans were regarded as only temporary residents. For many decades, millions of Black South Africans were stripped of their permanent urban citizenship, yet they built South Africa’s cities through their labor.

Apartheid made many Black South Africans internal foreigners, with conditional residency in urban South Africa. Understanding the fact that Black South Africans were internal foreigners helps us realize how the modern form of xenophobia reproduces these spatial logics, with migrants presented as illegitimately possessing jobs, wealth and legitimate residency. The policing of migrants and their access to urban South Africa mirrors previous systems of apartheid governance.

One of the striking features of xenophobic attacks in South Africa is that they almost exclusively target foreign Africans from countries such as Somalia, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Nigeria, rather than European migrants and expatriates. This racial and national specificity of South African xenophobia reveals a history of unequal relations, the persistence of colonial hierarchies, and ideas of belonging that continue to shape post-apartheid South Africa (Mignolo, 2011). The most ironic and tragic fact is that it is precisely here—the place from which the international struggle against apartheid was championed and which was seen as a beacon of African liberation and pan-African unity—that a recurrent war against Africans takes place. The support that Africa provided in the struggle against apartheid has not been reciprocated with welcome and security for African immigrants in post-apartheid South Africa.

The Unfulfilled Promise of Democratic Citizenship

In 1994, the democratic dispensation promised inclusion, human dignity, and socio-economic justice. Yet political liberation has neither brought about structural transformation nor eliminated the socio-economic inequalities inherited from the apartheid state. South Africa remains one of the most unequal countries in the world, characterized by widespread poverty, high unemployment, and spatial segregation (Piketty, 2014). For many Black South Africans, formal citizenship and the promise of democratic rule remain shallow promises.

It is this disconnect between formal political inclusion and the lack of concrete socio-economic benefits for most South African citizens that helps explain how survival populism is born. While citizens exist on paper, they often fail to achieve basic human dignity. In a society where access to and the distribution of resources are fiercely contested, particularly where the state is absent in providing economic security, protection, and opportunities, people find themselves in conditions of chronic abandonment and exclusion. Xenophobia emerges as an ultimate response to exclusion from economic benefits in society, becoming a tool through which individuals establish an ethical claim to resources and place.

It is here that the township economy becomes an interesting phenomenon. While it provides alternative livelihoods, it also represents conditions of uncertainty, competition, and survival. Furthermore, it is a site where foreign migrants often display economic success, in part through the transnational networks and cooperative practices they share, as well as their lower overhead costs (Crush & Ramachandran, 2014). Their relative visibility within township economies allows them to appear as an important source of economic anxiety for some citizens in this society.

In many township spaces, foreigners and the shops they own are portrayed not merely as competitors but as those responsible for taking over opportunities. Such descriptions and narratives serve as a way of politicizing migrants as legitimate strangers who have illegitimately claimed a portion of the available resources, while local citizens have been abandoned and subjected to misery by their own government.

Here, a Laclauian understanding of populism becomes significant. According to Laclau, populism is essentially a political discourse structured around enmity between “the people” and their enemies (Laclau, 2005). In this context, “the people” are framed as deprived yet hard-working citizens of the South African state who have been excluded from its promises. Migrants are thus represented as foreigners who, despite lacking rights and a legitimate stake, have invaded the state and appropriated what rightfully belongs to South Africans.

Populism without Leaders: Informal Sovereignty from Below

The interesting dimension here is that no such political reasoning necessarily arises from the leadership of populist figures. Rather, it is reproduced within political networks on the ground, from street committees and neighborhood patrols to organizations like Operation Dudula, which not only advocate for stricter immigration policies but also actively patrol urban areas, monitor shops and businesses, and enforce exclusive boundaries, thereby performing informal sovereignty in the absence of legitimate state authority (Misago, 2019).

Such actions are a response to a deeper malaise within the post-apartheid state. It is clear that, in many cases, state institutions have become delegitimized; citizens, feeling neglected by the state, resort to popular measures to enforce governance. Thus, xenophobic movements are not merely attacks against immigrants but expressions of citizens’ anger over the state’s incapacity to provide. Communities assert control over their territory and defend it against perceived external threats.

However, an exclusively domestic reading of the popular dynamics of discontent obscures the decolonial underpinnings of xenophobic violence in South Africa. The reality of xenophobic violence is inextricably linked to a coloniality of power (Quijano, 2007) that persists beyond the period of colonial rule and continues to value and categorize people according to histories of colonial experience. African immigrants are often despised simply because they are African and are treated by many South Africans in ways similar to how they themselves would have been treated by colonial rulers.

This means that, in a tragic sense, one formerly oppressed population has turned against another. This has much in common with what Frantz Fanon warned about decades ago in The Wretched of the Earth—that without genuine redistribution, liberation could transform former victims into oppressors themselves.

Survival populism arises precisely in this vacuum of fractured solidarity. As citizenship loses its material content due to ever-increasing economic insecurity, a range of alternative political communities based on exclusion are formed by ordinary citizens. Migrants then become convenient targets onto whom structural frustrations can be projected. Xenophobia, in this sense, is not the absence of politics; it is politics under conditions of abandonment. Yet, while the political logic of xenophobia may be recognizable, its moral implications cannot be condoned.

Migrants themselves often become victims of precisely the neoliberal inequalities from which poor South Africans suffer. Many have fled persecution, economic disaster, or armed conflict in neighboring countries, only to be subjected to violence and exclusion in South Africa. Ultimately, xenophobic mobilizations provide scapegoats that divert anger away from structural causes—corruption, inequality, unemployment, and policy failures—and toward vulnerable migrants and poor South Africans. However, ignoring these factors will result in underestimating the significance of xenophobia as a political practice and force.

Xenophobia can persist only as long as it provides a language through which the abandoned can voice their grievances, articulate a form of resistance, and renegotiate access in contexts where formal citizenship offers little tangible substance—in other words, as a distorted political response to systemic marginalization. The global significance of such a phenomenon cannot be overstated.

The Global Lessons of Survival Populism

Everywhere across the globe—from Europe to Latin America, across Africa and into Asia—increasing economic precariousness can foster exclusionary ideologies targeting migrants and minority groups. However, South Africa is remarkable because it is the historically oppressed Black majority that is involved, largely without elite populist rhetoric or direction. This challenges our conventional ways of understanding populism, nationalism, and citizenship. While populism is usually understood in elite- and election-driven terms, in South Africa it demonstrates how a populist discourse can emerge from the ground up, be highly localized, and center on survival.

A populist mode of address can emerge whenever abandoned people face the struggle for self-defense and access to resources under conditions of precarity. It is South Africa’s greatest post-apartheid tragedy that populations once excluded under the apartheid system now themselves construct an “outsider” in order to re-establish their own space through exclusion.

Xenophobic violence is a testament to a deeper crisis of belonging within the democratic framework and to the lack of transformation of apartheid’s economic landscape. This is a world in which citizenship and political freedom coexist with mass abandonment, a world where the challenge lies not only in containing migration and the violence that accompanies it, but also in reforming society so that citizenship offers material benefits, the capacity to exercise and enjoy the material aspects of citizenship is more equitably distributed, and an inclusive sense of belonging becomes the norm rather than exclusion. Until that happens, survival populism will remain one of the defining languages of the post-apartheid urban sphere.

 

References

Crush, J., & Ramachandran, S. (2014). “Xenophobic violence in South Africa: Denialism, minimalism, realism.” Migration Policy Series, 66, 1–35.

Fanon, F. (1963). The wretched of the earth. Grove Press.

Laclau, E. (2005). On populist reason. Verso.

Mamdani, M. (1996). Citizen and subject: Contemporary Africa and the legacy of late colonialism. Princeton University Press.

Mignolo, W. D. (2011). The darker side of Western modernity: Global futures, decolonial options. Duke University Press.

Misago, J. P. (2019). “Political mobilisation as the trigger of xenophobic violence in post-apartheid South Africa.” African Studies Review, 62(4), 111–135.

Mudde, C. & Kaltwasser, C. R. (2017). Populism: A very short introduction. Oxford University Press.

Neocosmos, M. (2010). From “foreign natives” to “native foreigners”: Explaining xenophobia in post-apartheid South Africa. CODESRIA.

Piketty, T. (2014). Capital in the twenty-first century. Harvard University Press.

Quijano, A. (2007). “Coloniality and modernity/rationality.” Cultural Studies, 21(2–3), 168–178.

Fake news.

When Lies Become Political Identity: Populism, Disinformation, and the Emotional Logic of Contemporary Politics

by CommentariesDigital-populismEditor’s ChoiceHome

In this commentary, Yacine Boubia examines why political disinformation has become one of the defining challenges of contemporary democratic life. Moving beyond conventional explanations that focus on misinformation as a mere failure of fact or technology, Boubia argues that disinformation increasingly functions as a mechanism of political identity formation. Within contemporary populist politics, false narratives often derive their power not from their factual accuracy but from their ability to reinforce collective belonging, distrust of institutions, and emotional engagement. Drawing on examples from the United States, Brazil, Hungary, India, and other democratic contexts, the commentary explores how digital media ecosystems, affective polarization, and populist communication have transformed the relationship between truth, politics, and democratic legitimacy. The result, Boubia warns, is the fragmentation of shared public reality and the erosion of the deliberative foundations upon which democratic societies depend.

By Yacine Boubia

Political disinformation has become one of the defining anxieties of contemporary democratic life. Governments increasingly legislate against it, social media companies develop moderation policies intended to contain it, and fact-checking organizations work continuously to identify and correct false claims circulating online. Yet despite the multiplication of these mechanisms, disinformation not only persists but often appears politically resilient. In some cases, attempts to debunk falsehoods seem to reinforce the political narratives they were intended to weaken.

The persistence of disinformation suggests that the phenomenon cannot be understood simply as a technological malfunction or as the result of insufficient access to accurate information. Nor can it be reduced to the assumption that democratic publics have suddenly become incapable of distinguishing truth from falsehood. Such explanations remain insufficient because they misunderstand the political function disinformation increasingly performs within contemporary populist politics.

The central issue is not merely that false information circulates. Falsehood has always existed within political life. Rumors, conspiracies, propaganda, and manipulated narratives long predate the digital era. What distinguishes the contemporary moment is the transformation of the relationship between political identity, media consumption, and the perception of reality itself. Increasingly, political information is consumed less as neutral knowledge than as symbolic confirmation of collective belonging.

Within this context, disinformation often functions not primarily as a factual proposition requiring verification but as a mechanism of identity formation. It tells political communities who they are, who threatens them, and which institutions can no longer be trusted. The emotional and symbolic dimensions of such narratives frequently matter more politically than their empirical coherence.

The Populist Construction of Reality

At the heart of contemporary populist politics lies a deeply antagonistic understanding of democratic society. Politics is framed not as competition between legitimate ideological alternatives within a shared democratic framework, but as a moral struggle between a virtuous and authentic people on one side and corrupt elites on the other. This binary structure does not merely organize political preferences. It also reshapes the criteria through which truth itself is evaluated.

When populist leaders denounce mainstream media as “fake news,” portray judicial institutions as politically compromised, or present experts and academics as detached ideological actors, they are not simply criticizing specific institutions. They are constructing an alternative political epistemology — an alternative framework for determining who possesses legitimate authority to define reality.

Within this framework, distrust becomes politically productive. Suspicion toward institutional information sources functions as proof of political lucidity. The citizen who rejects mainstream narratives demonstrates independence from allegedly manipulated systems of information. Consequently, disinformation often succeeds not because it is universally believed in a literal sense, but because it reinforces existing emotional and political identities.

This helps explain why factual corrections frequently fail to reduce the circulation of false narratives. For many politically polarized audiences, fact-checking institutions themselves have become incorporated into the antagonistic political narrative. A correction issued by mainstream media may therefore strengthen rather than weaken distrust, since it appears as further evidence of elite coordination against the political community with which individuals identify.

The issue is therefore not simply informational. It is relational and symbolic. Political trust itself becomes fragmented.

Emotional Politics and the Collapse of Shared Reality

The transformation of political communication over the last two decades has intensified these dynamics considerably. Digital communication environments reward immediacy, emotional intensity, and visibility rather than reflection or deliberation. Content capable of generating outrage, fear, indignation, or moral conflict circulates more rapidly and more widely than nuanced analysis or institutional communication.

This transformation has altered the emotional structure of democratic politics.

Contemporary political communication increasingly functions according to the logic of affective mobilization. Citizens are not merely encouraged to support political programs or ideological projects; they are encouraged to consume politics emotionally and permanently. Anger, resentment, humiliation, fear, and cultural anxiety become continuous mechanisms of political engagement.

Social media platforms play a central role in this transformation. Their economic models depend fundamentally on maximizing user engagement, and emotionally activating content systematically generates higher levels of interaction than neutral or procedural information. Algorithms consequently privilege content capable of provoking strong emotional responses, creating information ecosystems increasingly organized around visibility, conflict, and polarization.

Under such conditions, populist communication acquires structural advantages. Simplified narratives opposing “the people” to enemies, elites, immigrants, globalists, or corrupt institutions adapt particularly effectively to digital environments privileging emotional intensity and rapid symbolic confrontation. Donald Trump’s communication style represented one of the clearest manifestations of this transformation. His political visibility depended not on maintaining ideological consistency or factual precision but on sustaining permanent symbolic conflict. Through X (Twitter), rallies, media provocation, and continuous attacks against institutional actors, Trump transformed political communication into a form of ongoing spectacle in which emotional engagement became more politically valuable than deliberative persuasion.

Yet Trump was not an isolated phenomenon. Comparable dynamics emerged across multiple democratic contexts. Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, Viktor Orbán in Hungary, Narendra Modi in India, and Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines all deployed communication strategies combining direct digital engagement, hostility toward institutional mediators, and emotionally polarized narratives opposing authentic national communities to corrupt elites or threatening outsiders.¹

While the specific ideological content differs substantially across these contexts, the communicative logic remains remarkably similar. Political legitimacy increasingly derives from claims of authenticity, emotional proximity, and symbolic confrontation rather than institutional mediation or technocratic competence.

Media Visibility and the Spectacle Imperative

The contemporary media environment further amplifies these tendencies because visibility itself has become one of the central currencies of political power.

Twenty-four-hour news cycles and platform competition create continuous pressure for emotionally stimulating and conflict-driven content. Political actors capable of generating spectacle acquire disproportionate communicative advantages regardless of the substantive coherence of their positions. Outrage becomes economically profitable.

This dynamic was visible throughout the 2016 American presidential campaign. Research conducted by Harvard Kennedy School’s Shorenstein Center demonstrated that Trump received extraordinary levels of media attention during the Republican primaries, often dominating news cycles despite relatively limited institutional support within the Republican establishment.² Coverage focused overwhelmingly on conflict, provocation, and campaign drama rather than substantive policy analysis.

Trump himself appeared highly conscious of this relationship between media economics and political visibility. In 2017, he remarked that television networks and newspapers depended heavily on his presence because “without me, their ratings are going down the tubes.”³ Although characteristically provocative, the statement reflected an important structural reality. Political spectacle had become deeply integrated into the economic logic of contemporary media systems.

This integration creates a paradox increasingly visible across democratic societies. Media institutions frequently denounce populist disinformation while simultaneously benefiting economically from the audience engagement it generates. Populist actors attack mainstream media as corrupt enemies of the people while simultaneously depending upon those same institutions for visibility and political amplification. The result is a mutually reinforcing cycle of outrage, polarization, and permanent symbolic conflict.

The Fragmentation of Democratic Public Space

One of the most significant consequences of digital political communication has been the fragmentation of shared public space itself. Traditional mass media systems, despite their limitations and ideological biases, historically exposed large segments of the population to relatively similar informational environments. Citizens consuming the same newspapers or television broadcasts could still disagree politically while operating within partially shared factual frameworks.

Contemporary digital ecosystems increasingly undermine those shared frameworks. Individuals now inhabit highly personalized informational environments shaped by algorithms, ideological preferences, and social networks. Political communities consume different sources, circulate different narratives, and often interpret political reality through entirely incompatible symbolic frameworks.

The consequence is not simply disagreement. Democratic societies have always contained disagreement. The deeper issue is the erosion of common epistemic reference points necessary for democratic deliberation itself.

When citizens no longer agree on which institutions possess legitimacy to verify information, political conflict risks becoming increasingly detached from deliberative negotiation. Politics transforms into a struggle between competing realities rather than competing interpretations of shared reality.

Under such conditions, democratic polarization becomes self-reinforcing. Every institutional intervention risks being interpreted through preexisting antagonistic narratives. Judicial rulings become evidence of political conspiracy. Journalistic investigations become proof of media manipulation. Electoral outcomes themselves become vulnerable to accusations of illegitimacy.

Disinformation therefore thrives not simply because false information circulates more effectively online, but because democratic publics increasingly lack shared mechanisms for collectively arbitrating truth claims.

Beyond Fact-Checking

None of this implies that factual accuracy no longer matters. Democratic societies remain dependent upon institutions capable of producing reliable information and sustaining informed public debate. Journalistic verification, academic expertise, and independent investigative institutions remain indispensable democratic resources. Yet the limitations of purely informational responses to disinformation have become increasingly visible.

Fact-checking alone cannot resolve political conflicts rooted in identity, emotional polarization, and institutional distrust. Correcting false claims does not automatically rebuild confidence in the institutions producing those corrections. Indeed, in highly polarized environments, such interventions may reinforce existing suspicions among audiences already convinced that institutional actors operate according to hidden ideological agendas. 

The challenge confronting contemporary democracies is therefore not solely technological or informational; It is political and cultural. Democratic systems increasingly struggle to maintain the conditions necessary for shared public deliberation in environments characterized by fragmentation, emotional mobilization, and permanent symbolic conflict. The issue is not simply how to eliminate falsehood, but how to preserve forms of political coexistence within societies where citizens increasingly inhabit different informational and emotional realities.

The rise of contemporary populist disinformation reveals less about the irrationality of democratic publics than about the transformation of political communication itself. In an age defined by digital visibility, affective polarization, and fragmented media ecosystems, political identity increasingly shapes perceptions of truth more powerfully than truth shapes political identity.

Until democratic societies confront the emotional, symbolic, and communicative transformations underlying this crisis, disinformation will remain not an anomaly within democratic politics, but one of its defining features.

 

Footnotes

¹ Cas Mudde and Cristóbal Rovira Kaltwasser. (2017). Populism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press); Benjamin Moffitt. (2016). The Global Rise of Populism: Performance, Political Style, and Representation (Stanford: Stanford University Press).

² Thomas E. Patterson. (2016).“Pre-Primary News Coverage of the 2016 Presidential Race: Trump’s Rise, Sanders’ Emergence, Clinton’s Struggle,” Shorenstein Center on Media, Politics and Public Policy, Harvard Kennedy School, June 13, 2016.

³ Donald Trump, quoted in Tom Jones, “Does the Media Miss Donald Trump?” Poynter, March 23, 2021.