Please cite as: Wathtuwa-Durayalage, Sudeshika. (2025). “Impact of Civilizational Populism on Intergroup Emotions, Social Cohesion, and Civility in the UK.” Journal of Populism Studies (JPS). June 11, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/JPS000115
Abstract
This study investigates the impact of civilizational populism on intergroup emotions, social cohesion, and civility in the United Kingdom using quantitative analysis of British Social Attitudes Survey (BSA) 2021 data. The findings reveal significant correlations between exposure to populist rhetoric and heightened negative emotions, such as fear and anger, toward ethnoreligious and political minorities (r = 0.56). While political affiliation demonstrates a weaker direct influence (r = 0.14), perceptions of migration as culturally and economically beneficial are strongly associated with higher social cohesion (r = 0.69). Minority groups report elevated levels of exclusion and fear, yet national pride correlates with inclusive attitudes in some cases (r = -0.64, with prejudicial views). Civil society organizations play a critical role in mitigating divisive effects by fostering inclusivity and dialogue. These insights inform strategies to counteract the polarizing impacts of civilizational populism, emphasizing the importance of inclusive narratives and policy interventions to enhance social cohesion in diverse societies. The study’s limitations include reliance on secondary data and challenges in establishing causality, highlighting the need for further research using more direct measures of populism and contemporary datasets. Despite these constraints, the findings contribute empirical evidence to the growing literature on the social and emotional consequences of populism, offering a foundation for policies aimed at promoting harmony and reducing polarization in the UK.
Keywords: Civilizational populism, intergroup emotions, social cohesion, civility
By Sudeshika Wathtuwa-Durayalage
Introduction
This study investigates the influence of civilisational populism on intergroup emotions and attitudes towards ethnoreligious and political minorities in the UK. Specifically, it examines the effects of civilisational populism on social cohesion and civility at the local and national levels, and how individuals and communities respond to and resist populist rhetoric. Central to this inquiry is an exploration of the emotional responses elicited by civilisational populism, such as fear, anger, and resentment, and the strategies civil society organisations employ to mitigate its divisive effects.
While there has been extensive research on the general impact of populism on political attitudes and intergroup relations, there is a significant gap in understanding the specific emotional and social consequences of civilisational populism, particularly in the UK context. Civilisational populism differs from other forms of populism by framing political discourse regarding civilisational identities and perceived existential threats to cultural values and ways of life. Current literature inadequately addresses how this form of populism shapes intergroup emotions, such as fear and resentment, and its implications for social cohesion. Furthermore, there is a paucity of research on how communities and civil society organisations respond to civilisational populism, especially in fostering social cohesion and civility in the context of rising divisive rhetoric.
This research is significant as it aims to provide a nuanced understanding of how civilisational populism influences emotional and social dynamics within ethnoreligious and political groups in the UK. By focusing on emotional responses and community reactions to civilisational populism, this study offers critical insights into how populist rhetoric shapes social cohesion and civility in diverse societies. Additionally, identifying the coping mechanisms and resistance strategies employed by communities will contribute to policy and intervention strategies aimed at mitigating the divisive impacts of populism. Ultimately, this research could inform efforts to strengthen social cohesion and civility in increasingly pluralistic and politically polarised societies.
The research questions are as follows:
How does civilisational populism influence intergroup emotions and attitudes toward ethnoreligious and political minorities in the UK?
What are the effects of civilisational populism on social cohesion and civility in local and national contexts?
How do individuals and communities respond to populist rhetoric, and what coping mechanisms or resistance strategies are employed to maintain social cohesion?
There are three research objectives aligned with this research, as follows:
To explore how civilisational populism impacts the emotional responses (e.g., fear, anger, and resentment) of different ethnoreligious and political groups in the UK.
To analyse the relationship between civilisational populism and social cohesion, focusing on the extent to which it promotes or undermines community trust and cooperation.
To identify the strategies utilised by civil society organisations and communities to counteract the divisive effects of populism and foster civility.
Civilisational populism, as defined in this research, uniquely frames political discourse around existential threats to cultural values, in contrast to general populism that targets the elite. This study explores its significant emotional and societal impacts on social cohesion, particularly among ethnoreligious and political minorities. The central argument posits that civilisational populism exacerbates fear, anger, and resentment toward minority groups, undermining local and national social cohesion. Civil society and communities can mitigate these divisive impacts by fostering civility and employing coping mechanisms. Through a robust quantitative approach utilising British Social Attitudes Survey (BSA) data, this research seeks to empirically establish correlations between populist rhetoric and intergroup emotions.
van Oosten, Sanne. (2025). “Do Muslims Have Different Attitudes and Voting Behaviour Than the Majority Populations of France, Germany and the Netherlands?” European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). June 10, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/rp00100
Abstract
The political preferences of Muslims are often the source of contention and misinformation. In continental Europe, there is not much data available on political preferences of Muslims due to strict privacy regulations, creating a knowledge lacuna allowing for misinformation to fester. In this report, I focus on three countries where privacy regulations are particularly longstanding: France, Germany, and the Netherlands. I use a novel sampling method that complies with privacy regulations while achieving a large enough sample of minority respondents to conduct statistical analyses. Regarding policy preferences, I find that respondents with a Muslim minority background have more conservative attitudes towards same-sex adoption, while showing very similar attitudes to white majority respondents when it comes to gender equality. Respondents with a Muslim minority background are, however, more progressive on immigration and religious freedoms for Muslims. Regarding voting preferences, Muslims show very similar patterns to their majority counterparts, with a few exceptions (La France Insoumise (FI) in France, and in the Netherlands DENK and Partij voor de Vrijheid (PVV)). This paper seeks to put an end to persistent speculation about the political preferences of Muslims, particularly Muslims, in France, Germany, and the Netherlands.
The political preferences of Muslims in western countries are the subject of recurring speculation (Turnbull-Dugarte and Lopez, 2024; Turnbull-Dugarte et al., 2025; van Oosten, 2025a; 2025b). Political leaders often claim that Muslims vote for them to present themselves as legitimate leaders of all people, while at the same time, some political leaders claim that Muslims and other minorities have been imported by elites to vote for pro-immigrant parties and change society from within (Bracke and Aguilar, 2022; van Oosten, 2025a). Political actors also often point to the attitudes of Muslims to justify their exclusion from national communities (Glas, 2023; Spierings, 2021; De Lange and Mügge, 2015). These claims focus on issues like opposition to gay rights (Puar, 2013), perceived sexism (Farris, 2017), antisemitism (van Oosten, 2024a) or animal cruelty (Backlund and Jungar, 2022; van Oosten, 2024b). Far-right parties use these examples to argue that Muslims do not share core liberal values, and therefore do not belong in liberal societies (van Oosten, 2024b; 2022). These claims, however, are rarely supported by data. This report examines whether Muslims in France, Germany, and the Netherlands hold different political preferences from their white majority counterparts.
Standard sampling strategies do not yield enough minority participants for statistical analyses (Font and Méndez, 2013). Moreover, strict European privacy regulations limit the availability of sampling frames for racial/ethnic and religious minorities in the European context (Simon, 2017). To overcome these challenges, I surveyed a large sample of Kantar-panellists and used a mini-survey to oversample voters from France, Germany, and the Netherlands with a migration background in Turkey (France, Germany, and the Netherlands), North Africa (France), Sub-Saharan Africa (France), the Former Soviet Union (Germany), Surinam (the Netherlands), and Morocco (the Netherlands). I sampled a high number of minority respondents, with 1889 out of a total N of 3058 respondents having a migration background, of which 649 self-identify as Muslim. I asked these respondents for their propensity to vote (PTV) for all political parties in the French, German and Dutch parliament at the time of data collection, as well as their attitudes towards 8 key policy preferences spanning socio-cultural and socio-economic themes.
In this paper, I test whether Muslims and other minority groups differ from majority voters in their support for political parties in France, Germany, and the Netherlands. I find that Muslim voters are much less likely to support PVV in the Netherlands but are just as likely to vote for the RN in France or AfD in Germany (all three far right). Minority and majority voters are equally likely to support mainstream left parties, such as PS in France, the SPD in Germany, and PvdA in the Netherlands. Muslim minority voters are more likely to support left-populist parties DENK in the Netherlands and FI in France. In terms of policy preferences, respondents with a Muslim minority background hold more conservative views on same-sex adoption but show similar attitudes to majority respondents on gender equality. They are, however, more progressive on immigration and Muslim religious freedoms.
This report aims to contribute to the debate about the voting behaviour of Muslims in Western Europe, a debate that is often speculative and not based on data from academic scholars. Far right party leaders, thinkers and pundits have fuelled misunderstandings about minority voting patterns. In reality, the political preferences of Muslims, a minority, are very similar to the political preferences of the majority population. This report seeks to provide clarity and offer a data-driven response to counter the narrative that some political leaders might use to exploit the supposed voting behaviours of minorities for their political gain. Through empirical analysis, this study contributes to a more accurate understanding of ethnic minority political preferences and aims to challenge rhetoric with factual evidence.
Sampling Method and Sample Composition
I conducted this research in France (van Oosten et al., 2024a), Germany (van Oosten et al., 2024b) and the Netherlands (van Oosten et al., 2024c), three countries with key differences. In France, there is a strong emphasis on citizenship, secularism and a strong division between church and state (Kuru, 2008). In Germany, Christian political parties have had a longstanding presence (Ahrens et al., 2022) and the approach towards Muslims is characterised by the history of integration of guestworkers (Yurdakul, 2009). The Netherlands has a host of Christian parties (Kešić and Duyvendak, 2019), a tradition of high minority representation in politics (Hughes, 2016: 560), increased by the emergence of a political party run by Muslim parliamentarians and voicing Muslim interests in 2017, DENK (van Oosten et al., 2024d). All three countries have a history of parliamentarians from mainstream and populist radical right parties espousing Islamophobic rhetoric, with France and the Netherlands having a longer and more vociferous history of populist radical right parties and Germany being relatively new to the game and taking on a comparatively less strident tone (Brubaker, 2017).
I oversampled respondents with specific migration backgrounds to make group-specific statistical inferences (Font and Méndez, 2013: 48) and chose minoritised groups: numeric minorities that state experiencing discrimination to the largest extent (FRA: European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2017: 31). In France, the oversampled groups of ethnic minority citizens consist of French citizens with a North-African (Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria), Sub-Saharan African (Niger, Mauritania, Ivory Coast, French Sudan, Senegal, Chad, Gabon, Cameroon, Congo) and Turkish background. In Germany, I oversampled German citizens with a Turkish and Former Soviet Union (FSU) background. In the Netherlands, I oversampled Dutch citizens with a Turkish, Moroccan and Surinamese background. Some groups have come to France, Germany or the Netherlands as a result of the colonial ties between host and home country, some came as guest workers (FRA: European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2017: 93). I also oversampled French citizens with a Turkish background and German re-migrants from the FSU. Some, but not all, of the oversampled migration backgrounds are countries with Muslim-majority populations, making it possible to disentangle whether differences are either religiously or ethnically/racially driven. In this paper, I present data for the Muslim subgroup, but the data also includes other minoritised groups and analyses by these groups are also available for researchers.
After running pilots and obtaining the ethics approval, (see appendix: van Oosten, 2025c), I gathered data between March and August of 2020 amongst 3058 citizens of France, Germany and the Netherlands, administered by survey agency Kantar Public (for all replication materials and appendices, see van Oosten, 2025b). One important challenge in surveying ethnic/racial minority groups comes from the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), a European law legally restricting saving data on race and ethnicity (European Commission 2018). I overcame this challenge by employing a large-scale filter question to the representative Kantar-panels in all three countries. I asked a very large sample to participate in a mini survey. The first and only question of this mini survey asks where their mother and father were born. If either one of their parents were born in a country of origin I wanted to oversample, I redirected this respondent to the full survey. If not, I either terminated the survey or redirected a small percentage to the full survey. This enabled us to form sizable groups of minority citizens for our final survey, ensuring ample diversity, a feature so often missing from survey research (e.g. Coppock and McClellan, 2018). Though there is still a chance of selection bias (see van Oosten, 2025d for a discussion on the selection bias in this sample), I have variables to weight the data on gender, migration background, education, age, urbanisation and region, and the findings are broadly the same with and without weights.
Respondents received so-called ‘LifePoints’ (France and Germany) or ‘Nipoints’ (the Netherlands) for the completion of the survey. With these points, respondents can periodically convert their saved points to an online gift card. The survey took about fifteen minutes to complete, which translated to an equivalent of two euros in gift card value. I ended up with the following number of respondents in each group:
I assessed migration background by inquiring about the birthplaces of respondents’ mothers and fathers. It was necessary to ask this question first for sampling purposes. To minimise potential ordering effects on the data, I randomised the order in which respondents viewed the policy questions and experimental profiles (for the full questionnaire, see appendix in van Oosten, 2025c). To mitigate acquiescence bias, where respondents tend to agree with statements, I randomised the wording of the policy questions. For instance, one half of the sample saw the statement: “the taxes for this rich should be raised” and the other half saw “the taxes for the rich should be lowered” and I recoded the variables accordingly. I prepared the data using R-package ‘tidyr’ (Wickham, 2020, see all code and replication materials here: van Oosten, 2025c).
Minorities’ Policy Preferences
In the following section, I first present the policy preferences of two groups: non-religious ethnic majority respondents and Muslim ethnic minority respondents (for other subgroups see appendix at van Oosten, 2025c). I present the distribution of the responses in a histogram, with a black line indicating the mean score. I asked respondents to indicate their agreement with a series of policy statements using an 11-point scale, ranging from 0 (strongly disagree) to 10 (strongly agree). The statements covered a broad range of topics, including attitudes towards state intervention, immigration, Islam, gender and sexuality. The attitudes towards state intervention are as follows: “The tax rate for the rich must be higher/lower,” “Our government should raise/lower support for the unemployed,” “Our government should do less/more to combat climate change than now,” and “Our government needs to lower/raise fuel prices.” Attitudes towards immigration and Islam are as follows: “Immigrants are a burden/an asset to our country,” “Islam should (not) be restricted by law.” I measure gender attitudes as follows: “That men and women receive equal pay for equal work should (not) be regulated by law,” and sexuality as follows: “Homosexual couples should (not) be allowed to adopt children.”
I compared the responses of non-religious ethnic majority respondents with those of ethnic minority respondents who self-identified as practicing Muslims. Differences between the groups were negligible for most policy areas, including taxation, unemployment, climate policy, fuel prices, and gender equality. However, Muslim respondents were more likely to oppose adoption rights for same-sex couples, and more supportive of immigration and religious freedoms for Muslims.
Subsequently, I present data for voting preferences. I asked respondents about their willingness to vote for a wide range of political parties in their respective countries using so-called “Propensity to Vote” (PTV) questions. Respondents were asked: “Please indicate the likelihood that you will ever vote for the following parties. If you are certain that you will never vote for this party then choose 0; if you are certain to vote for this party someday, then enter 10. Of course you can also choose an intermediate position.” In France, the list of parties included LREM, LR, PS, MoDem, FI, PCF, RN (formerly Front National), and MR. In Germany, I asked about CDU, SPD, AfD, FDP, Die Linke, Grüne, and CSU. In the Netherlands, the full list consisted of CDA, ChristenUnie, D66, DENK, FvD, GroenLinks, PvdA, PvdD, PVV, SGP, SP, and VVD.
In the figures below, I present histograms of the responses for two parties per country: FI and RN in France, Die Linke and AfD in Germany, and DENK and PVV in the Netherlands. These pairs were selected to contrast parties often associated with the ethnic majority versus those associated with minority or immigrant support. Full results for all parties are available in the appendix (van Oosten, 2025c). Our findings show that there are relatively few differences in voting propensities between non-religious ethnic majority respondents and Muslim ethnic minority respondents in France and Germany. In France, Muslims are about as likely as non-religious majority respondents to consider voting for both RN and FI. Similarly, in Germany, I find little difference between these two groups in their willingness to vote for Die Linke or AfD. The Netherlands stands out in this regard: Muslim respondents are significantly more likely to consider voting for DENK, a party with strong minority and Muslim support, while being far less likely to vote for the PVV, a party known for its anti-Muslim rhetoric. This suggests that differences in vote propensity by group are more pronounced in the Dutch context than in France or Germany.
Minorities’ Voting Preferences
Conclusion
In terms of policy preferences, the differences between Muslims and non-religious ethnic majority respondents are generally small, except in a few areas. Muslims tend to be more supportive of immigration and Muslim rights and less supportive of same-sex couples adopting children. There are no major differences on issues like gender equality, though. When it comes to voting preferences, there are bigger differences in the Netherlands compared to France and Germany. In the Netherlands, Muslims are much less likely to vote for the PVV, but more likely to vote for DENK. In France and Germany, there are fewer differences between Muslims and non-religious ethnic majorities, with both groups showing similar preferences for parties like RN and FI in France, and AfD and Die Linke in Germany.
This paper addresses the ongoing speculations about the policy and voting preferences of Muslims in France, Germany, and the Netherlands. Political leaders and commentators regularly spread misinformation; possibly unintentionally, possibly deliberately (van Oosten, 2025a). This false information about minority voting habits can mislead the public and fuel xenophobic views. In reality, Muslims often share similar political preferences with the majority population, though not always. This paper presents descriptive statistics to challenge false narratives. Combating misinformation is vital for the health of democracies, as it helps maintain informed discussions and trust in democratic institutions.
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In a candid and comprehensive interview with ECPS, Professor Guy Ben-Porat warns that Israel’s political rightward shift is not simply a strategic maneuver, but the product of deeper ideological currents. Describing the current coalition as “a unification of several forces,” Professor Ben-Porat highlights its populist hostility toward liberal institutions, minorities, and judicial independence. He draws direct parallels to Hungary and Poland, identifying a shared authoritarian trajectory. Professor Ben-Porat also reflects on how the October 7 attacks have further racialized political discourse, with Arab-Palestinian citizens facing intensified securitization. Yet, he sees hope in mass democratic mobilization: “Thousands of people have taken to the streets every week… the fact that many Israelis are still fighting for democracy means they haven’t thrown in the towel yet.”
In a period marked by growing polarization, religious populism, and democratic backsliding, Israel’s political landscape has undergone a profound transformation. In a wide-ranging and timely interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Guy Ben-Porat—an expert in comparative politics and political sociology at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev—offers a critical diagnosis of Israel’s sharp rightward turn. “It’s more than strategy,” Professor Ben-Porat asserts, describing the current government as “a unification of several forces that make a very strong right-wing government,” rooted in anti-liberalism, exclusionary nationalism, and religious traditionalism.
At the center of this transformation is a coalition led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, flanked by ultra-Orthodox parties and far-right figures such as Itamar Ben Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich. Their political agenda, Professor Ben-Porat explains, has taken aim at core liberal-democratic institutions. “From the get-go, this government was determined to undermine the power of the Supreme Court… What they’re proposing is a majoritarian government that will stamp upon the rights of minorities.”
This encroachment on judicial independence is not merely an Israeli phenomenon. Professor Ben-Porat highlights the striking parallels with populist regimes in Hungary and Poland, noting that “Orbán and what happened in Poland before the last elections were good examples for Israel… this was a copycat.” The broader objective is to reconfigure Israeli democracy into a more ethnocratic and majoritarian model—where Jewish identity increasingly overrides civic inclusion and pluralism.
In a particularly sobering observation, Professor Ben-Porat warns that the October 7 Hamas attacks have only deepened the state’s securitized and racialized posture toward its Arab-Palestinian citizens. “There’s much more securitization of political statements and actions of Arab citizens,” he notes. And yet, despite populist figures like Ben Gvir hoping to use the crisis as justification for repression, Israel’s Arab citizens “did not play the game as expected”—remaining distant from Hamas and at times even risking their lives to protect Jewish compatriots.
Still, Professor Ben-Porat cautions that democratic decline is not inevitable. “Thousands of people have taken to the streets every week. That should not be discounted.” Though the protest movement remains largely focused on “Jewish democracy,” he sees the potential for it to evolve, to challenge systemic inequalities and the ongoing occupation. “It’s hard to be hopeful now,” he concludes, “but the fact that many Israelis are still on the streets, still fighting for democracy, means they haven’t thrown in the towel yet.”
Professor Guy Ben-Porat—an expert in comparative politics and political sociology at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev.
Here is the lightly edited transcript of the interview with Professor Guy Ben-Porat.
It’s More Than Strategy: A Unified Assault on Liberal Democracy
Professor Guy Ben-Porat, thank you so very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: How do you understand the convergence of neo-Zionist ideology and populist rhetoric in the post-2022 electoral landscape, particularly under the Ben Gvir–Smotrich axis within Netanyahu’s coalition?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: It’s a big question, with many terms—neo, Zionist, etc.—which I’m not sure I understand or use all of them. It’s a right-wing government that has several elements within it. Likud, Netanyahu’s party, is a populist party which has become an exclusionary populist party in recent years, centered on anti-Arab, anti-immigrant, and anti-liberal sentiments.
Alongside it are the ultra-Orthodox parties, which have a very special perspective on Israel’s future and on church–state relations. You mentioned Ben Gvir and Smotrich. This is a united party combining into an extreme right-wing party—maybe akin to some things you see among the extreme right in Europe. So, major populism is the main theme here. I think it’s a right-wing, religious government with populist elements within it.
To what extent can the recent rightward shift in Israeli politics be interpreted as a populist response to long-standing ethnic and religious cleavages rather than a mere electoral strategy?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: I think it’s more than strategy. I think the government has a common interest in undermining some of the established democratic features of Israel—namely, the Supreme Court in particular. And if you look at the internal scene, or the internal politics, from the get-go, this government was determined to undermine the power of the Supreme Court and what we call the checks and balances. Now each part of the government has a different take on the Supreme Court.
For the ultra-Orthodox, the Supreme Court is perceived as liberal and as undermining their coalitional achievements, which they gain—particular gains for their own good—whether it is exemption from military service, whether it’s budgets for religious institutions, etc.
For the extreme right, the Supreme Court is perceived as slowing down the annexation of the West Bank and the territories. The Supreme Court is perceived as putting some blocks on the military and on the settlement movement—which, one could argue, it does not—but that’s the way they perceive it.
And for Netanyahu, being involved in a series of trials, the Supreme Court is perceived—or is depicted—as an attempt to remove an elected leader by the elites.
So each part of this government has its own take on democracy, kind of combining together into this coalition.
Now, what unites them is, first, a very right-wing perspective in terms of Palestinians and Arab citizens; a more religious attitude or more traditional attitude towards religion; and a strong dislike of what they describe as elites and liberal democracy. So all this together makes it more than a fluke, more than a conjecture. It’s a unification of several forces that make a very strong right-wing government.
Religion Is Used to Draw Boundaries—Not Just to Guide Lives
Does the growing prominence of religious populism in Israel suggest a broader transformation in the political culture, where the ethno-religious identity of “the people” overrides civic and pluralistic conceptions of citizenship?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: I think here it’s a bit more complex, and that’s what we do—Dani Filc and I—in our work. For some of the religious right, religion is about demarcating boundaries. Religion is used as a way to define the Jewish state, to defend Jewish privileges, and to exclude those who are not Jewish. But if you look at their perception of religion as a way of life—as an ethical way of living—then some of them are not religious, or not religious in the way that orthodoxy perceives religion. To make this a bit more clear: if you look at issues like LGBTQ rights or issues about women’s rights within the Jewish camp, they can be somewhat liberal.
So, in this government, there is a clear divide between those for whom religion is a genuine way of life—shaping their daily practices, beliefs, and ethical system—and those who use religion primarily to draw boundaries and assert identity. Take, for example, the policy issue of exempting yeshiva students from military service: for the ultra-Orthodox, this is entirely natural and self-evident. For Likud members, however, it is far less obvious. That’s where you see differences between what religion is for these people.
Ehud Olmert, former Israeli Prime Minister, in his article published in Haaretz/The Guardian recently, warns of Israel’s potential international isolation and prosecution over war crimes, describing a state policy of starvation and indiscriminate violence. How does the normalization of such extreme policies reflect the convergence of populist ethno-nationalism with authoritarian state practices and what are the long-term implications for democratic institutions and minority rights in Israel?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: I think we need to make a little separation of things. First, Olmert’s warning is true and real. Israel’s actions in Gaza are dangerous. Many civilian lives are lost, and one could say—in very careful terms—without good reason. Not that there’s ever a good reason, but this war has definitely gone to extremes.
Now, why is this war continuing? Well, I think there are some reasons. One: it’s the government’s policy. And for Netanyahu, as long as the war goes on, the government stays intact. It keeps the government together. If the war ends, then some of the more extreme elements of the government might pull it apart, which means that Netanyahu would have to stand trial without the protection of being Prime Minister. It means there’ll be new elections. It means that Jews will begin debating what happened on October 7th—who’s responsible for this debacle. So for the government, the continuation of the war serves several purposes.
For some, the war should be continued because “we should not stop before the final victory,” which I’m not sure what it means—but for them, it’s the annihilation of Hamas. And I’m not sure that’s even possible. For others, maybe we should end the war on better terms for Israel. Again, I have no idea what that means.
But you could say there’s a mixture of ideology—of extreme right-wing ideology—of political interests, and mainly the fact that the government, for reasons that relate to what I said before, has never really introduced a strategy for how to end this war. If you ask Netanyahu: when does this war end? What will be in Gaza? Who will rule Gaza? Where will Israel be? What’s the role of the Palestinian Authority? What’s the role of other countries? What’s going to happen in Gaza once this war ends? What are the goals of this war? What is the strategy? We don’t know.
A Coherent Network of Right-Wing Advocacy Is Shaping Israel’s Future
Protests against judicial reform and religious coercion in Israel. Photo: Dreamstime.
How has the increasing influence of religiously conservative diaspora-funded NGOs and settler movements shaped the neo-Zionist agenda, particularly under populist governance?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: Within Israel, money from abroad is not a new thing. NGOs—from both the left and the right—are supported from abroad. That’s not a new phenomenon. The same goes for the government. The Jewish diaspora has always maintained strong ties with Israel and influenced Israeli politics.
You can see NGOs on the so-called left and on the right receiving funding from abroad. Now, from the right-wing perspective, it’s the money from abroad that’s financing the left. So if you look at the populist kind of discourse, it’s about international elites supporting leftist, anti-Zionist forces who are opposing the government. It depends on which side is telling the story.
But to be more precise, I think what we’re seeing today is a very strong connection between the Israeli right and the Trump administration, as well as right-wing organizations in Europe. That’s where you see, perhaps, a new development: a more coherent network of right-wing advocacy that also has influence on Israel.
In your analysis of ‘good citizenship’ among new religious movements, how do such actors reframe legitimacy within a populist framework that delegitimizes secular or liberal opponents?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: There are several ways this is conducted. Begin with “good citizenship” in Israel—the republican equation, as we call it—has often been about military service. Many on the right pride themselves on being the foot soldiers: “We are carrying out the mission of defending Israel. We are paying the price in blood,” whether it’s through settlement in the West Bank or military service. Hence, we are the good citizens.
They blame the other side for not doing as much. By the way, statistics don’t necessarily support that, but that’s the claim. So being a good citizen is framed around military service and combat. That’s how they define good citizenship.
Now, this of course has implications for issues of gender and ethnicity—namely, for non-Jewish citizens. This whole concept of good citizenship is used by populists to describe themselves as the good, contributing, fighting citizens, in contrast to the “detached elites”—those who are global, more fluid, who can use their money to escape responsibility.
Now, this is a myth—a fable. The Israeli center-left has been fighting on the streets for democracy for two years now. So the whole notion of detached elites is complete baloney. But it makes for a compelling narrative on the right: We are the good citizens. We are the ones who sacrifice. We are truly committed to the country, while you—the elites—are global cosmopolitans. This, by the way, echoes classic anti-Semitic tropes once used in Europe against Jews. Put that aside—but the story they tell is that we are the good people, and they are the detached elites with less commitment to the country’s welfare.
A Different Government Might Have Chosen Strategy Over Messianic Dreams
Had a centrist or center-left coalition prevailed in the 2022 elections, how might the Israeli state have handled the aftermath of the October 7 attacks differently—in terms of military response, international diplomacy, and internal discourse?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: It’s hard to talk about things that didn’t happen. The “what if” is always very difficult. I can say one thing: if the October 7th debacle had happened under a center-left government, the right would have used all its power to force that government out, to place the blame squarely on them, and to sell the narrative that this is what happens when you have a left-leaning government—one that is weak and unequipped to fight. A left-wing government would have been discredited to the bones.
That hasn’t happened with the right. Netanyahu’s government has been fighting for almost two years now to shed responsibility. “It’s not us, it’s the military, it’s the intelligence.” They’ve been working very hard since October 7th—October 8th even—to deflect responsibility.
Now, what would a different government do? Hard to say. But what a sensible one would do is, at some stage early in the war, begin to form a strategy. On October 8th, right after October 7th, we had very strong international support. We could have fought Hamas, brought an alternative government to Gaza, brought back the hostages, and started thinking of a new future for the Middle East. We could have pursued Middle East alliances—with the Saudis, with the Gulf countries. There were opportunities on the table. This government, because of its right-wing, messianic, and ultra-nationalist agenda, simply threw that out the window. What we would have had instead is maybe a strategy—not messianic dreams. A strategy.
Would an alternative government have challenged the securitization logic that you argue has long shaped Israeli-Arab relations, or merely adopted a more technocratic or liberal gloss?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: Again, hard to tell. I would take anything that improves the current situation. Gloss might become, at some point, substance. But I think the previous government—at least on one issue that I’m researching, internal security—had a different approach.
We have an ongoing crisis within Arab neighborhoods in Israel. Arab citizens make up about 20% of the country’s population, and they account for more than 50% of the murders in this country. The numbers are skyrocketing.
The previous government, through an attempt to create a strategy, was able for the first time to slightly reduce the number of people murdered among Arab citizens. In this government, the police are in the hands of Itamar Ben-Gvir, an extreme right-wing nationalist and, if I may say, a convicted criminal. Under his office, the numbers have doubled since the last government. So yes, a different government could have made a difference.
Copying Orbán: Undermining Democracy in the Name of Sovereignty
To what extent is the judicial overhaul effort by the Netanyahu-led coalition part of a broader pattern of populist institutional capture akin to what we have seen in Hungary or Poland?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: It’s been mentioned many times, and the comparison has been made by many people. The connection between Orbán and Netanyahu is well known. Netanyahu’s son has been advocating and has become something of a poster child for some of these movements. So there’s a strong relationship between the Israeli right and the right in Europe and the US.
To a large extent, this was the playbook of the right: undermine liberal democratic institutions and give more power to the government. Orbán—and what happened in Poland before the last elections—were good examples for Israel. And I think, to some extent, this was a copycat. Yes, we saw this in Europe; we can do the same things here. It’s a kind of logic that follows its own lead—it doesn’t really need the examples from abroad. Still, I think the fact that this is happening on a global scale has some meaning.
Do you view the weakening of judicial independence in Israel as a calculated step toward majoritarian rule under the guise of popular sovereignty? How does this resonate with your broader work on state-minority relations?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: They’ve said it explicitly—so it’s not a mystery. Their position is clear: they want to transfer power from the judiciary to the government. That’s not a secret—it’s the stated policy of this government. The Supreme Court may have its faults, and liberal democracy can certainly be debated. But what they’re proposing is a majoritarian government that tramples the rights of minorities. Again, this isn’t hidden. Some members of the government openly declare that Israel is a Jewish state in which Jewish citizens should enjoy privileges over non-Jews.
Israel has long debated how to reconcile being both a Jewish state and a democracy. It’s an ongoing tension—these principles often clash. Liberal Israelis—and one can debate whether they were right or wrong—have tried to argue that the two can be balanced. A Jewish state, they’ve said, can still be fair toward its Arab citizens. It may not be perfect, it may have flaws, but the contradictions can be managed, even if not fully resolved.
Under the current government, however, there is a clear and explicit shift toward prioritizing the Jewish character of the state. If being both Jewish and democratic comes into conflict, their answer is unequivocal: it is a Jewish state, and democracy comes second. For some in this government, that’s not incidental—it’s ideological. That’s what they believe.
Annexation of Gaza Is No Longer a Whisper—It’s a Declared Agenda
Do you see a fundamental shift in the far right’s approach to governing Palestinians under occupation—moving from ‘managing’ the conflict to accelerating irreversible annexation?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: Absolutely. And again, these are things that are being said explicitly. You don’t really have to search—it’s not hypothetical. These are statements made by Smotrich, Ben Gvir, and others: that it’s time to annex the West Bank. So, it’s almost obvious. The only thing that has prevented it so far is international pressure. But under Trump, they believed the time had come—an opportunity to do what they always wanted: annex the West Bank. They’ve announced plans to build more settlements, to use more force against Palestinians, to expel so-called top terrorists—which can mean many things. So while these ideas are not yet fully implemented as policy, they are being openly discussed.
Thousands march in Jerusalem against judicial overhaul, March 2025. A broad protest fills the streets at night, with demonstrators calling to save Israeli democracy. Photo: Dreamstime.
Given the current political trajectory, do you believe Israel’s liberal democratic elements are in structural decline, or are there still viable pathways for democratic resilience—perhaps through civil society, judicial pushback, or international pressure?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: I think the jury is still out on this question. For many years, we’ve been lamenting the death of the left-liberal spectrum in Israel. The prevailing notion was that these people were tired—they were busy with themselves, individualistic, global, cosmopolitan. While the right appeared united and committed, the liberal left seemed aloof and less engaged.
However, over the past two years, we’ve witnessed something remarkable: thousands of people have taken to the streets every week. I think that should not be discounted. I’m not sure who will win, but two or three years ago, if you had told Israelis there would be large weekly rallies in defense of democracy, most would have dismissed it as impossible. Yet, when Israelis perceived that democracy was in danger, they rose up.
There is still a question about how far and how open this movement is. For the moment, it is focused on Jewish democracy. It does not yet address the occupation or fully include the rights of Palestinian citizens—that remains on the margins of the demonstrators’ consensus. The movement is centered on defending Israel’s democracy, and to maintain broad support, it has set aside, at least for now, the occupation and non-Jewish rights.
However, once a movement like this begins to grow and starts to confront the deeper implications of occupation and inequality, then maybe there is room for optimism. It’s hard to be hopeful right now—given the war and two years of ongoing struggle—but the fact that many Israelis are still on the streets, still fighting for democracy, means they haven’t thrown in the towel yet.
Fear Is Driving Policy—But That’s Exactly What Ben Gvir Wants
To what extent does the current populist ascendancy reflect a systemic recoding of Israel’s founding ethno-religious cleavages into a majoritarian regime logic, rather than a contingent electoral maneuver?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: I think it’s more contingent. We’ve had many years of cleavages and schisms that have come to the fore with the last elections, and we are seeing a very strong cleavage between center-left and right. But within those camps, there are divisions. People on both the right and the left can change their opinions.
Especially in the last 18 months—after October 7th—there has also been the fear factor. People are acting out of fear. Let’s look at the Palestinians, or Arab citizens, or the world. There is still a memory of October 7th. This trauma still lingers.
So, I think what needs to happen now is the restoration of hope and the development of a strategy—reaching out to people on the other side of the spectrum and trying to convince them that there is another option. Maybe then there’s room for change.
To answer your question: no, it’s not merely a contingency. It is the result of many years of struggles and cleavages. Netanyahu was able to position himself as a defender of “the true people” in a very populist sense. But the war has also somewhat shattered that image—being Mr. Security and managing the economy. So, while these shifts are, at the moment, tragic, they may in the future provide some room for change.
In the light of your work on the ‘shrinking of citizenship,’ how has the October 7 Hamas attack provided a discursive and policy framework for intensifying the racialized securitization of Arab-Palestinian citizens under the guise of national unity and collective trauma?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: It’s a good question. And again, it has several layers that we need to look at. To begin with—yes, Israel became more securitized. People are more afraid, which, of course, also shapes opinions and perceptions. When you’re afraid, it’s very hard to think things through and look at the long term. In that sense, it’s become more securitized. For example, political dissent is much less tolerated. There’s much more securitization of political statements and actions of Arab citizens.
At the same time, Ben Gvir was expecting Arab citizens to join in the October 7th events. That would have given him the reason to use more force against them. So, from Ben Gvir’s perspective or hopes, October 7th provided an opportunity to crack down on Israeli Arab citizens. This has not happened. Arab citizens did not play the game as expected. They remained very detached from Hamas. On October 7th, they were saying, “That is not us. We don’t condone these things.” More than that—among the hostages were Arab citizens, Bedouins from the Negev, who were taken by Hamas to Gaza, and some were killed by Hamas. Arab citizens on October 7th, in some cases, saved Jewish citizens.
The whole story became more complex. But now Gaza makes it more difficult—because those citizens are saying, “Those people in Gaza are our brothers.” When people are dying in Gaza in scores, “We can’t stand aside. People are starving in Gaza. We have to speak our mind. We have to protest.” And that’s the test for Israel. Can Jewish citizens be tolerant toward that? Or do their fears make them see those protests as pro-Hamas—which they are not?
Now we’re in a very difficult situation where Arab citizens who are protesting against the war in Gaza feel themselves threatened by the government. It has not exploded yet. But that’s exactly what Ben Gvir wants. For him, that would be a good day—one in which he can make the connection: Arab citizens, Palestinians, Hamas—they’re all the same, and they’re all here to destroy us. “Now we have legitimacy to use all means.” That’s the scare right now.
Election billboard showing Netanyahu shaking hands with Trump, with the slogan “Netanyahu. Another League,” in Jerusalem on September 16, 2019. Photo: Dreamstime.
And lastly, Professor Ben-Porat, what role have transnational, religiously conservative, and diaspora-funded networks played in amplifying the settler-theocratic undercurrents of neo-Zionist populism, particularly in relation to territorial maximalism and cultural hegemony?
Professor Guy Ben-Porat: For many years there were relations between settlers and right-wing movements in Israel and similar or supportive movements abroad. As I said before, that is not unique in Israel. All movements—left, right, and center—have often found alliances abroad, whether among Jewish diasporas or liberals in America. So in that sense, what the right wing is doing is not unique.
This transnationality, to be fair, is something used by many groups in Israel for different purposes and reasons. You can say whether it’s good or bad, but the use itself is not unique. Where it is unique is in the US. If you look at Trump supporters in the US, the Evangelicals were a very strong element in his campaign. They provide very strong support for Israel, the right wing, and the settlers. That’s where the connection is important.
It’s more dramatic than it seems—because for many years, Israel was very careful to maintain a bipartisan approach in the US, having support from both Democrats and Republicans. Also remember, the Jewish community in the US is mostly pro-Democratic. So Israel traditionally refrained from taking sides in American politics. Israel was above the Republican–Democratic divide and maintained a relationship with the Jewish diaspora in the US, who are mostly pro-Democrats.
In the last decade or so, things have begun to change. Netanyahu has put his weight on the Republican camp—anti-Obama, anti-Biden, and pro-Trump in the US. His support came in many cases from either right-wing Jews, religious Jews, or right-wing Christians. So, the whole dynamic changes here. Before, it was bipartisan with strong support from the Jewish community. Now, it’s Republican—with support from right-wing Christians and Jews—and an alienation of a large part of the liberal Jewish community.
That’s a strange turn of events. But I think the important religious factor here is the right-wing religious Christians in the US. That’s probably the most important development in Israel’s foreign relations.
Abstract How do voters evaluate female Muslim politicians? The literature mainly approaches voter evaluations of underrepresented groups from a unitary perspective, focusing on either female or minoritized politicians, leaving Muslim politicians out of the picture altogether. I take an intersectional approach and consider a finding intersectional when evaluations of a Muslim woman politician are significantly different from both non-religious women and Muslim men. I test this by running survey experiments amongst 3056 respondents in France, Germany, and the Netherlands and presenting 18,336 randomly constructed profiles of hypothetical politicians varying their religion, gender, and migration background. Voters have a strong negative bias against Muslim politicians. However, voters do not assess female Muslim politicians significantly differently than their male counterparts. These conclusions have implications for researchers studying intersectionality using conjoint experiments and researchers concerned with the electoral consequences of diversity in a political landscape increasingly influenced by populist radical right parties.
Keywords: Intersectionality, Muslims, Islamophobia, Muslim women, Descriptive representation
There are many examples of female Muslim politicians being targeted by politicians of the Populist Radical Right (see Farris, 2017; Oudenampsen, 2016), sometimes leading to female Muslim politicians receiving extraordinary amounts of discursive backlash (Saris & Ven, 2021; van Oosten, 2022). At the same time, Muslim women tend to outnumber Muslim men in politics (Hughes, 2016), especially in contexts where party selectors craft candidate lists: Muslim women tick two diversity boxes while also challenging stereotypes of Muslim women as oppressed, simply by being politicians (Dancygier, 2017). Despite these challenges and the unique positioning of Muslim women in politics, the question remains how voters evaluate them. Does being a female Muslim politician pose electoral challenges, or is there an electoral benefit? In this paper, I test whether intersectionality plays a role in how voters evaluate female Muslim politicians.
An intersectional analysis is distinct from a unitary or multiple one (Hancock, 2007). Where a unitary analysis foregrounds one background characteristic (race or gender) and a multiple analysis adds up the effects of multiple ones (race and gender), an intersectional analysis highlights the interaction between them (race interacts with gender) (idem). In order to study the intersectional position of minoritized women in politics quantitatively, many scholars call the use of interaction effects and candidate experiments viable methodological solutions (Block et al., 2023; Klar & Schmitt, 2021, p. 493, 495). This paper tests the limits of both the method of data collection (candidate experiments) and the method of analysis (interaction effects) by studying what is arguably a most-likely case: female Muslim politicians.
Though there has been much research on intersectionality and politicians in the US (Brown, 2014a, 2014b; Collins, 1998; Holman & Schneider, 2018; Lemi & Brown, 2019; Reingold et al., 2020), intersectionality and politicians in the European context is poorly understood. In Europe, Muslim women play a crucial role in many nationalist debates in western countries such as France, Germany and the Netherlands (Dancygier, 2017; Korteweg & Yurdakul, 2021). The general framing tends to imply that Muslim women are significantly different from both non-Muslim women and Muslim men because being Muslim influences what it means to be a woman and being a woman influences what it means to be Muslim. As Islam and gender are thus “mutually reinforcing”, an intersectional lens is indispensable (Crenshaw, 1991, p. 1283). This is particularly apparent when female Muslim politicians attempt to enter politics (Dancygier, 2014; Hughes, 2016; Murray, 2016). However, whether female Muslim politicians face a “double disadvantage” or a “strategic advantage” (Gershon & Lavariega Monforti, 2021) depends heavily on the specific political and societal context in which they operate. In order to study this, I presented 3056 respondents in France, Germany, and the Netherlands a total of 18,336 short bios of hypothetical politicians while randomizing their religion, ethnorace and gender. I asked respondents to assess these politicians by asking evaluation and choice-questions. Candidate conjoint experiments rarely include Islam as an experimental condition and when they do, intersectional analyses are rarely conducted (one notable exception being Benstead et al., 2015).
In line with Hancock (2007), I analyze the results in a unitary, multiple and intersectional way. In the intersectional analysis I use interactions while controlling for direct (unitary) effects. Although I do not find voters assess women and ethnoracially minoritized politicians negatively, I find robust and consistent evidence that voters have a strong negative and unitary bias against Muslim politicians. However, this analysis did not garner any evidence for intersectional effects of religion and gender. Given the sizable sample and effect sizes, I do not consider a lack of statistical power the cause of these null results. Though I remain confident that interaction effects are the most fitting method of analysis, I argue that conjoint experiments are not the most fitting method of data collection due to the cognitive overload causing respondents to single out one attribute to base their choices on.
In the wake of Romania’s high-turnout 2025 presidential election, Dr. Vladimir Bortun offers a powerful analysis of how deep-rooted economic insecurity—fueled by decades of neoliberal reform—has driven support for the far right. Despite a centrist victory, nationalist George Simion’s strong performance underscores a broader post-crisis populist consolidation. In this exclusive ECPS interview, Dr. Bortun explores the AUR’s appeal among the diaspora and rural poor, the ideological vacuum left by the mainstream left, and how Romania exemplifies a wider European shift from democratic to authoritarian neoliberalism. A must-read for anyone interested in the structural dynamics behind Europe’s populist realignment.
Romania’s 2025 presidential election represented a pivotal moment for the country’s democratic trajectory and its place within the broader European political landscape. In a high-stakes runoff, centrist candidate and pro-European reformer Nicușor Dan secured a clear victory over George Simion, the leader of the far-right Alliance for the Union of Romanians (AUR). With the highest voter turnout in a quarter-century and the specter of a previously annulled election looming large, the vote was widely interpreted as a referendum on Romania’s political future—particularly on the tension between liberal democracy and the rising tide of far-right populism. Despite Simion’s defeat, his strong first-round performance and continued popularity signaled a deeper, more durable undercurrent of reactionary politics in Romania.
Against this backdrop, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke with Dr. Vladimir Bortun, a lecturer at the University of Oxford and an expert on European politics, transnational party networks, and left-populist movements. With unique insight into both the structural drivers and class dynamics underpinning political realignments in Romania and beyond, Dr. Bortun offers a compelling analysis of how economic insecurity—rooted in decades of neoliberal reforms, mass emigration, and systemic inequality—has created fertile ground for the rise of the far right.
In this wide-ranging interview, Dr. Bortun reflects on how the socioeconomic legacies of Romania’s post-1989 transition have failed to deliver on their liberal democratic promises, especially for large swaths of the population living in poverty or working precariously. He argues that this deep economic discontent, compounded by the collapse of credible left-wing alternatives and the ideological convergence of the center-left and center-right, has allowed far-right actors like Simion and AUR to present themselves as anti-establishment voices—even as their own policies serve entrenched economic elites.
Crucially, Dr. Bortun situates Romania within a broader European context, where authoritarian neoliberalism is increasingly replacing the post-Cold War liberal consensus. He draws instructive comparisons with Poland, France, and Southern Europe, exploring how the mainstreaming of far-right rhetoric and policy by centrist parties—particularly around immigration and national sovereignty—has reshaped the ideological field.
By examining the rise of AUR’s support among the Romanian diaspora and among marginalized rural voters, Dr. Bortun challenges simplistic narratives about populism and brings attention to the lived realities of class, exclusion, and political abandonment. As he makes clear, the battle over Romania’s future is not only political or cultural—it is fundamentally about economic power, ownership, and whose voices get to shape the nation’s path forward.
Dr. Vladimir Bortun, a lecturer at the University of Oxford and an expert on European politics, transnational party networks, and left-populist movements.
Here is the lightly edited transcript of the interview with Dr. Vladimir Bortun.
Neoliberalism Created the Perfect Storm
Professor Vladimir Bortun, thank you so very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question:Given Simion’s stronger-than-expected first-round lead and his continued appeal despite being defeated in the runoff, how would you theorize the durability of far-right populism in Romania beyond the electoral cycle? Can this be conceptualized within a broader post-crisis populist consolidation rather than a mere reactionary surge?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun: That’s a very important question. First of all, thank you again for the invitation. I should clarify that I’m not a professor yet—just a lecturer.
To go straight into the topic: recent academic literature has shed significant light on the key drivers behind the rise of the populist far right across borders. While there are, of course, multiple factors at play—and we will explore some of them—the most consistent driver across all contexts is economic insecurity, rooted in decades of neoliberal globalization.
These conditions have only worsened in the aftermath of the 2007–2008 crisis, which—as you mentioned—took a particularly austerity-driven form in Europe, shaped by how both European institutions and national governments responded. Romania was no exception.
To provide some context on the socioeconomic situation in Romania: after 35 years of neoliberal capitalism and roughly 18 years since joining the European Union—which has brought certain benefits but, for many Romanians (including those who have supported the far right), has failed to fulfill its initial promises—we are now facing deeply concerning indicators.
Approximately 45% of the population lives in poverty or on the brink of it—the highest percentage in the European Union, meaning nearly half the population is affected. Romania also ranks first or second in terms of in-work poverty. Moreover, it allocates the lowest—or among the lowest—shares of GDP to healthcare, education, and social protection.
After Ireland, Romania has the lowest tax collection capacity in the European Union. It also maintains some of the lowest tax rates in the EU. There is a 10% flat income tax, which disproportionately affects workers and employees—particularly because, in addition to this tax, they are also responsible for paying social contributions that were previously covered by employers. These include contributions to healthcare and pensions.
Unsurprisingly, this flat tax structure primarily benefits the wealthier segments of society. In addition, Romania has a corporate tax rate of 16%, one of the lowest in the European Union.
These are clearly the right conditions for economic insecurity—fertile ground for the rise of the far right. But it’s not only the poorest in society that we should consider. Economic insecurity affects various social classes and class fractions.
In Romania, it has had a particularly strong impact on the petty bourgeoisie—small and medium-sized entrepreneurs—who have been closing down their businesses at an increasing rate over the past few years, especially since the COVID-19 pandemic. I believe the pandemic represents another critical crisis that must be factored into any explanation of the far right’s rise. These small and medium entrepreneurs, going bankrupt by the thousands, form a core component of the far right’s social base.
Nationalism Meets Neoliberalism in a Peripheral Economy
People in traditional national costume return from Sunday church service in Maramureș, Romania—a region renowned for preserving its cultural heritage. Photo: Theodor Bunica.
How would you situate the AUR’s electoral messaging—particularly its nationalist-economically neoliberal synthesis—within the wider genealogy of post-2008 far-right formations in Europe? Is there a uniquely Romanian hybrid emerging, or does AUR largely mirror external templates?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun:There are certain similarities with the broader profile of the European far right. There is clearly this populist discourse they employ, which is built on the dichotomy between the “pure people” and the “corrupt elite.”The elite, as in other countries, is portrayed as those who have sold out our country—who don’t represent the interests of our country but rather represent foreign interests, globalist interests. And of course, other undesirable categories in society are targeted as well, such as the LGBTQ community and immigrants from non-European countries, who have started to come to Romania in recent years as cheap labor—these are the usual suspects in far-right rhetoric.
At the same time, there is an element of truth in relation to the domination of foreign interests in Romania. Foreign companies hold a dominant position in key sectors of the economy, such as the energy sector, manufacturing—especially the auto industry—and the banking sector. They make huge profits in Romania, which they then repatriate to their home countries rather than reinvesting, even partially, in the Romanian economy.
Foreign banks, in particular, are guilty of this kind of profit repatriation from Romania, and this has generated a level of dissatisfaction that can also be observed in other countries. For example, in Poland, there is a very interesting study on the role of “comprador bankers” in the rise to power of the Law and Justice Party (PiS), which governed the country for about a decade. These comprador bankers were Polish managers of foreign bank subsidiaries who eventually came to realize that these foreign banks were operating in Poland solely to extract profit—profits that were then repatriated to their home countries, rather than being reinvested in the Polish economy. They did not, for instance, offer affordable or advantageous loans to Polish businesses. In response, some of these managers rebelled against the model and aligned themselves with the national capitalist hegemonic project advanced by PiS.
So, there is an element of what I would call the “comprador professional managerial class” that has served foreign capital in these peripheral Central and Eastern European countries, now fighting back against this foreign capital domination—in coalition with the domestic capitalist class. Particularly, those fractions of the domestic capitalist class that are trying to secure the sectors where they are still dominant—especially in Romania, such as real estate, construction, and hospitality.
The party you mentioned—AUR—led by Simion, who lost the election, is heavily funded by segments of the domestic capitalist class, particularly in the construction, real estate, and hospitality sectors. These actors are seeking to ring-fence and protect their interests from foreign capital, while also attempting to gain state power in order to advance those interests.
This project of the national bourgeoisie reclaiming state power is a common regional feature across Central and Eastern Europe. Hungary, Poland, and now Romania exhibit this pattern. I would even argue that it extends beyond the region—to Turkey, for example. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the Erdogan project seems to share similar characteristics, as far as I understand.
Now, regarding the distinctive features of the Romanian case—since I’ve already outlined some of the common regional characteristics—there are two aspects that stand out about the Romanian far right. I would highlight these two features, and perhaps we’ll focus on one of them in the following questions.
The first is their particular appeal to the diaspora. The diaspora represents a significant portion of their social base, and I’ll elaborate later on why they’ve been so successful in mobilizing this group.
The second distinctive feature is their appeal to farmers. Romania has the highest share of the workforce employed in agriculture in the entire European Union—between 18% and 20% of the total workforce. To give you a sense of how high this is: the second-ranked country in the EU is Poland, with only 10% of its workforce in agriculture. France, despite having a strong agricultural sector, has just 2.4% of its workforce employed in this field.
So, this is a huge sector in Romania, and the vast majority of these people working in agriculture are subsistence farmers. They are small farmers who feel like nobody is looking after their interests. The state is perceived as only overburdening them with regulations and taxation, while favoring the interests of big foreign corporations. And the far right is managing to build inroads into this significant social class in Romania.
A Left in Name, Neoliberal in Practice
Crin Antonescu, the pro-European presidential candidate, speaks during the Social Democratic Party (PSD) Congress in Bucharest, Romania, where he was officially confirmed as the party’s nominee on February 2, 2025. Photo: Dreamstime.
How do you interpret the apparent paradox between widespread socioeconomic grievances and the relative electoral failure of redistributive political platforms, particularly in the light of the Social Democratic Party’s strategic vacillation and policy convergence with the right?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun: That’s the key factor from a subjective perspective. I’ve tried to talk about the objective factors, but in terms of the subjective conditions, clearly the key factor that has facilitated the rise of the far right—not just in Romania, but across the region and beyond—is the lack of a credible left-wing political project.
And the current left party, the center-left party you’ve mentioned—the PSD—is left in name, but not in substance, not in policy. They have actually governed for the majority of these 35 years of neoliberal capitalism—more or less 20 of those 35 years have seen them in government. So, they have implemented some of the very policies I mentioned earlier, which are responsible for the current socioeconomic conditions.
The very minimal social concessions they have made in terms of redistribution while in government have been largely limited to increasing the minimum wage—which is, of course, better than nothing. This partly explains why they remain the most voted-for party in Romania.
However, these measures are far from sufficient. Despite repeated increases over the past six or seven years, the minimum wage remains very low—about 30% below what would be considered a living wage in Romania, that is, the income necessary for a decent standard of living.
Moreover, Romania has the highest share of its workforce earning the minimum wage. Nearly 40% of all workers are on minimum wage—twice the EU average.
So, we are a minimum-wage economy, a low-taxation economy, and a low public spending economy. Romania is pretty much a paradigmatic case of neoliberalism—and the PSD is very much responsible for this. It is arguably the single most responsible political party for this situation.
Proletarians Abroad, Petit Bourgeois at Home
With over 60% of the diaspora backing Simion in the first round, what implications does this have for the dominant narratives that have historically cast diasporic Romanians as liberalizing or pro-European agents?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun:That’s a significant shift indeed! And it started already in 2020, when the party AUR—which, by the way, stands for the Alliance for the Union of Romanians, but the acronym aur also means “gold” in Romanian— from the very beginning targeted its message toward the diaspora. They even called the diaspora “the gold of Romania” that they wanted to bring back to the country.
The party was launched in the diaspora in December 2019, one year before the first elections in which they stood candidates. Their launch meeting took place in the UK, among Romanians living there—not in Romania. So, from the outset, they were oriented toward the diaspora, and they managed to appeal to it in several ways.
On the one hand, this diaspora is not one unified entity; it consists of several diasporas. We’re talking about five million people, which is a quarter of Romania’s total population. They live very different lives in the West of Europe. Some of them live in quite squalid conditions, working very hard jobs for low wages, in poor environments, with little respect and little sense of being treated equally.
There is a widespread feeling among them that Romanians are treated as second-class citizens. Many are temporary or circular migrants—working on a construction site for three or four months, then returning to Romania, or working seasonal jobs picking vegetables on farms in Italy, Spain, the UK, or Germany, and then going back.
They don’t have a favorable context for integration or for deeper socialization in the host countries. But let’s be honest—those host countries themselves have experienced a surge in far-right politics. The far right is now much more mainstream in Western Europe than it was 10 or 20 years ago, when these migrants may have been sending back more liberal kinds of social remittances.
These societies have shifted significantly to the right. Anti-immigration discourse has become more mainstream, normalized, and legitimized—and Romanians living there have internalized some of that discourse.
In my own fieldwork, I often came across people who, despite being migrants themselves and suffering from anti-immigration attitudes and discourse, were nevertheless against other groups of migrants. They distinguished themselves from them—talking about “good migrants” and “bad migrants.” There is a real cognitive dissonance at play here, where migrants adopt anti-migration attitudes and political preferences.
Another aspect is that many feel Romania is a peripheral country that lacks a real voice in the European Union and in the broader global political stage. They perceive Romania as subordinated economically and geopolitically—which is true.
So, when a populist demagogue like Simion comes along and says, “I will make Romania stand tall again in the EU and in the world,” it resonates. It gives them a sense of restored dignity and pride.
Meanwhile, all the other political parties—including the PSD—are utterly uncritical in their allegiance to the EU, NATO, and the West in general. They refuse to acknowledge the real problems Romanians face, both in terms of their living conditions in the diaspora and in terms of Romania’s position within international power structures.
These parties speak only about the benefits and advantages of being part of these institutions, without addressing the contradictions, the challenges, or the structural disadvantages of Romania’s position in the European and international economic and political system. This, of course, creates a window of opportunity for the far right to come in and capitalize on people’s sense of marginalization and humiliation.
One additional point is that many of these migrants, as I mentioned, are circular or temporary migrants. They may be working blue-collar jobs abroad, but they’ve managed to accumulate enough capital to open a small business back home in their town or village of origin. This means they occupy a complex, dual class position: proletarians abroad, petit bourgeois at home. When they return home, after years of hard work abroad to save capital and open a small guesthouse, café, restaurant, or corner shop, they feel the state does nothing for them.
Instead, they feel overburdened by taxation. Increases in the minimum wage are perceived as a burden because they are now small employers who have to pay two, three, or four salaries. They blame the state—but they also blame those below them: people on minimum wage, or on welfare benefits, whom they see as lazy or asking for too much. They see themselves as the real hard-working people who have sacrificed abroad to invest in the Romanian economy—only to be abandoned by the state, which should be protecting their interests.
I think this is very important. I’m not saying it’s unique to Romania, but it is very salient here—and perhaps not as salient a feature in the social base of the far right in other European countries.
A Race to the Bottom Among Migrants
Building on your work on transnational political mobilization, how should we understand the AUR’s success among emigrants in Italy and Spain? Do these cases indicate a diasporic production of illiberal subjectivities shaped by specific host-country political contexts?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun:I think I already touched on this in my previous answer. However, Italy and Spain are particularly illustrative of some of the dynamics I outlined earlier—especially Italy, where the far right has been in power for the past two and a half years.
In that context, migrants often find themselves in a race to the bottom, trying to prove they are more deserving than other migrant groups. I encountered numerous cases of Romanian migrants in Italy—or former migrants who had lived there for many years—expressing very negative attitudes toward Moroccan or Albanian migrants, for example.
Some even told me they had voted for the Northern League, now known as La Lega—Salvini’s party—which was the original far-right populist force before Brothers of Italy surpassed it in popularity. Ironically, this is a party that had made openly anti-Romanian statements in the Italian press. Nevertheless, this became their way of attempting to carve out a place for themselves—by identifying someone “below” them to target as the “bad” migrant.
In Spain, we see a similar surge with the Vox party over the last few years. It is now the third-largest political force in Spain—a country where the far right was outside of Parliament for decades.
Again, we’re talking about a Romanian diaspora that has suffered a lot of discrimination and marginalization. It took a long time for this community to settle. But there is also a split within these diasporas, as I mentioned—between the more settled, integrated diaspora, and the precariously employed, circular, temporary migrants who come and go and who cannot really find a foothold in these countries.
The Center Imitates, but the Far Right Dominates
Comparing Romania’s recent presidential runoff to parallel dynamics in Poland and Portugal, to what extent can we speak of converging or diverging trajectories in the European center-right’s strategy to contain or accommodate far-right surges?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun: I think we see a very strong trend of accommodation of the far right—and not just from the center-right, but also from the center-left. In Denmark, for example—going a bit outside the region—the Social Democratic Party currently in government has adopted one of the harshest anti-immigration policies in Europe. And this trend extends further. Even here in the UK, the Starmer-led Labour Party has adopted many of the talking points not just from the Conservative Party but also from Reform UK. Just the other day, Starmer was speaking about Britain being “a country of strangers,” “an island of strangers” due to mass migration, according to him. Apparently, that makes me a stranger here.
There is a growing body of literature—by scholars like Aurelien Mondon and Aaron Winter—that refers to this as the mainstreaming of the far right: the normalization of reactionary ideas and policies. And this applies not just to rhetoric, but to actual policymaking, with both center-right and center-left parties adopting positions in an attempt to win back voters lost to the far right.
But as the saying goes, “the original is better than the copy.” People who want to vote for the far right for reactionary reasons—because they oppose immigration, for example—are unlikely to switch to the center-left just because it has adopted similar anti-immigration tropes. They will continue to vote for the far right. And we have seen this across the board.
The one Social Democratic party currently in power in Western Europe—in the EU at least—is in Spain. And they have resisted the temptation to go in this reactionary direction on issues like immigration and other topics dear to the far right. On the contrary, in some ways they have been an example of what a progressive government can and should say on key issues of our time, including the atrocities we are seeing in Gaza. They are, of course, not a perfect government—they have many flaws and shortcomings. But they demonstrate that it is still possible to stay true to Social Democratic values and policies and win elections. And that’s just speaking from a pragmatic point of view.
Corruption Isn’t the Cause—It’s the Symptom of a System
Protesters gather for the 13th consecutive day in front of Victoria Palace, the government headquarters in Bucharest, Romania, on February 12, 2017. Over 50,000 demonstrators rallied against controversial corruption reforms, illuminating the night with their mobile phones and forming the national flag with colored paper and cellophane. Photo: Dreamstime.
What insights might Romania’s 2025 election offer for understanding the evolving relationship between anti-corruption discourse and far-right populism, especially when contrasted with the cases of Poland’s Law and Justice or France’s National Rally?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun: That’s a very interesting question. I think, on the one hand, the far right’s collusion with corrupt and clientelist practices shows that, after all, they are not such a real alternative to the mainstream parties they criticize. They are quite happy to engage in the same kind of bad politics that the mainstream parties are guilty of.
On the other hand, while corruption is indeed a major issue in Romania—as it is in many other countries—it is often framed in a very legalistic or even moralistic way, as if it’s simply a flaw of character or the result of an inefficient state bureaucracy.
In this sense, corruption is frequently instrumentalized ideologically to justify the further shrinking of the state and additional cuts to public spending. For example, it’s often claimed that there’s widespread corruption in the welfare system—even though Romania already allocates the lowest percentage of its GDP to welfare in the entire European Union.
Nevertheless, this anti-corruption mantra remains highly salient in public discourse.
The anti-corruption discourse has thus been used to legitimize harsh austerity and neoliberal measures. At the same time, when actions are taken against corruption—such as jailing corrupt politicians—they often remain at a superficial, legalistic level.
This approach is ineffective against the far right. In the United States, we saw the democratic establishment spend four years trying to go after Trump through legal channels—and yet Trump still won the election. Le Pen has been barred from standing in elections, and her party continues to grow in the polls. It’s certainly not declining.
In Romania, the Constitutional Court canceled the November election and barred the winning candidate, Georgescu. Yet the person who replaced him—Simion—secured double the percentage in the first round. It didn’t work.
I’m not saying such measures shouldn’t be taken—if there is a legal basis for them, then by all means, pursue them. But we need to recognize that this is not a real solution to tackling the far right.
On the subject of corruption, an important point must be made beyond its ideological instrumentalization. Corruption is a real issue that must be addressed, but it is often decontextualized.
Corruption needs to be understood as a key vehicle for the primitive accumulation of capital—something characteristic of any early stage in the development of capitalism, in any country, at any point in history.
Corruption, along with other violent forms of capital accumulation, has always been present—even in so-called advanced, consolidated democracies that have practiced capitalism for a longer time. Corruption played a massive role in the emergence of capitalism and continues to play a central role in capital accumulation today.
After all, the dirty money of drug cartels, criminal syndicates, and authoritarian regimes around the world is largely laundered through the City of London—the very heart of global capital. So, if we truly want to tackle corruption, we need to go to the root of the problem and understand it as part of a broader structural and systemic issue.
From Democratic Neoliberalism to Its Authoritarian Mutation
Lastly, from a historical-comparative perspective, how does the Dan–Simion runoff recalibrate the ideological field established in the 1990s transition era? Are we witnessing a definitive exhaustion of post-1989 liberal centrism or its tactical reanimation?
Dr. Vladimir Bortun: This is a great question. There have been repeated claims about the death of the neoliberal center over the past 15 years—after the financial crisis, for instance. There were suggestions that neoliberalism was coming to an end, and that we would see a return to a more Keynesian type of economic model. That didn’t happen. Instead, we got more neoliberalism—more austerity, more privatizations, more deregulation, more flexibilization of the workforce.
Then, again, after the COVID-19 pandemic, there were claims that this marked the death of neoliberalism, especially given the forceful intervention of the state to keep societies afloat—or more accurately, to keep the accumulation of capital going. But again, that was temporary. Neoliberalism has returned in full force.
Now we are witnessing the militarization of Europe, with promises of spending cuts on the most important public services in society in order to fund military efforts. So, I’m afraid we are not seeing the end of neoliberal centrism, but rather its transformation into something more authoritarian—still neoliberal, but authoritarian. A shift, if you will, from democratic neoliberalism to authoritarian neoliberalism.
This transformation is being endorsed by the political center, which is increasingly adopting authoritarian measures across Europe. Here in the UK, the so-called center-left government has imprisoned individuals not for taking part in a protest, but simply for holding a Zoom meeting to plan one—specifically, a protest against environmental destruction. They were not punished for blocking a motorway, but merely for discussing civil disobedience in response to the climate crisis. This illustrates a clear shift toward authoritarianism. Yet when it comes to economic policy, there is a striking convergence between centrist parties and the far right.
The far right claims to be an alternative to the status quo and capitalizes on the grievances, socioeconomic anxiety, and insecurity of ordinary people. But if we look at their actual policy proposals—or, in places where they are in power, their actual policymaking—it’s more of the same. They might throw a few crumbs to ordinary people, to the popular classes, in order to maintain their support. But the bulk of their economic agenda still serves the business class and the wealthy—just different factions of the business class and wealthy than those typically represented by centrist parties.
In this compelling interview, Dr. Maxine Newlands—an expert in environmental politics and ocean governance—warns that the “Australian political system has essentially stepped back from climate change.” Speaking with ECPS, she highlights how rising polarization and populist denialism have rendered climate policy too risky for major parties. “Politicians avoid addressing it altogether,” she explains, noting that even terms like “climate change” were strategically omitted from campaigns. Dr. Newlands critiques the media’s role in spreading disinformation and urges a more pluralistic approach grounded in community voices, Indigenous knowledge, and the Blue Humanities. Her analysis provides a powerful lens into how populist narratives have reshaped Australia’s environmental politics and what it will take to restore trust and democratic inclusion in climate action.
In this in-depth and timely interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Maxine Newlands—a leading expert on environmental politics, ocean governance, and media ecosystems—offers a powerful diagnosis of Australia’s political retreat from climate leadership. Drawing on over a decade of research on the Great Barrier Reef, climate denialism, and populist media strategies, Dr. Newlands, Adjunct Professor in Political Science at James Cook University, Queensland, Australia, outlines how environmental discourse has become increasingly politicized in ways that have paralyzed mainstream policymaking.
“Australian political system has essentially stepped back from [climate change],” she states early in the conversation, framing the issue as a casualty of polarization and populist backlash. As climate change rose in political salience over successive election cycles, so too did opposition to it—especially from the populist right, which “either denies climate change outright or downplays its severity.” This dynamic, according to Dr. Newlands, has left the major parties “highly risk-averse,” with climate no longer functioning as a credible electoral issue.
Reflecting on recent electoral patterns in Australian politics, Dr. Newlands underscores how the Morrison government deliberately avoided the term “climate change” during its campaign, fearing it had become a political liability. This conscious rhetorical avoidance, she argues, exemplifies how populist pressure has warped the national conversation, “creating a vacuum” that has since been filled by more radical or issue-specific groups, such as the Greens or environmental NGOs.
Throughout the interview, Dr. Newlands unpacks how this climate retreat has been reinforced by media manipulation, especially from Rupert Murdoch’s syndicates, and disinformation campaigns that have framed environmental regulation as a threat to sovereignty, jobs, and national identity. These narratives are particularly potent in resource-rich regions like Queensland, where “climate becomes intertwined with concerns over foreign influence” and where populist slogans—like “Don’t take my mining job, and I won’t take your soy latte”—gain traction.
Against this backdrop, she calls for renewed, pluralistic approaches to environmental governance—ones grounded in the arts, Indigenous knowledge systems, and the Blue Humanities—to “open up the narrative” beyond the rigid binaries of denial versus technocracy. In her view, it’s not enough to combat populism with more data or more policy: what’s needed is a new cultural imaginary—one capable of re-enchanting the public’s relationship with nature and democracy alike.
Here is the lightly edited transcript of the interview with Dr. Maxine Newlands.
Populist Pressure Has Made Climate Too Politically Dangerous to Touch
Thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question:In the light of your work on climate denialism and environmental media, how would you interpret the electoral retreat of both far-right and green populisms in the 2025 federal election? Does this suggest an emergent fatigue with ideological extremes, or a recalibration of populist rhetoric within major party discourse?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: I think it’s worth acknowledging the historical context of where climate change and climate denialism have sat within Australia. There’s been a slow increase over a series of election cycles where climate change has repeatedly been positioned as a key issue. We’ve had many elections branded as the climate change election. In 2019, for example, the narrative from the left focused heavily on net zero targets, climate impacts, and climate mitigation—particularly highlighting the Great Barrier Reef as a central concern.
This buildup has been met with a strong pushback. The conversation became polarized between a populist right that either denies climate change outright or downplays its severity, and a more progressive side where the issue was front and center.
This tension has politicized the debate to such a degree that the Australian political system has essentially stepped back from it. So yes, to an extent, we can ask whether denialism and populism have worked—because climate change has now become such a fraught issue that politicians avoid addressing it altogether. For example, in the election cycle under Scott Morrison, about three or four years ago, his Liberal-National coalition made a conscious decision not to use the term “climate change” at all in their campaign. It had become such a hot-button issue that they feared it would be hijacked or weaponized.
Understanding that landscape is crucial. The constant pressure from the populist movement has made the major parties highly risk-averse regarding climate change as an electoral issue. As a result, that political vacuum has been filled by the Greens, more radical green and environmental groups, and progressive activist and lobbying organizations. So, while there are many engaged stakeholders, the two major parties have adopted a very low-risk appetite when it comes to foregrounding climate change during elections.
Climate Policy Becomes a Battle for Sovereignty in Populist Strongholds
To what extent has the performance of populist environmentalism—particularly among regional independents—relied on symbolic appeals to land, livelihood, and sovereignty? Can these aesthetic registers be disentangled from the exclusionary logics of right-wing nationalism?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: No, is the simple answer. The populist right in Australia is very conservative—protectionist, nationalist—and often views Australia as a self-contained unit, rather than part of a global context. Within that framework, pressures on issues such as UNESCO World Heritage sites, like Kakadu National Park or the Great Barrier Reef, tend to generate highly binary debates.
You’ll see populist groups rejecting the influence of international organizations—typically referencing the UN—insisting that such bodies shouldn’t tell Australia what to do with “our” Great Barrier Reef, for example. This leads to a rejection of external input and turns climate debates into questions of sovereignty and national control.
In this way, the climate conversation becomes intertwined with concerns over foreign influence on domestic policy—particularly on issues like net-zero targets. The “external” becomes an enemy figure for the populist movement, which aligns with a classic populist playbook: identifying an outside threat to rally domestic support.
This tactic is particularly effective in regions like Queensland and Western Australia, both of which are heavily dependent on mining industries. Queensland, notably, is also home to the Great Barrier Reef, making it a focal point for these tensions.
Minor parties such as Pauline Hanson’s One Nation, as well as individual senators, often deploy this narrative, casting environmental policy as a threat to national sovereignty. This frames the issue not as one of ecological stewardship, but as a defense of Australia’s sovereign decision-making over its land, resources, and environment.
Disinformation Turns Reef Policy into a Battlefield of Economics vs. Environment
Coral reef with colorful marine plants in the ocean. Photo: Vitaly Korovin.
Drawing from your research on social media ecosystems, what role did digitally mediated climate disinformation and “blue denialism” play in shaping voter perceptions of reef policy and environmental restoration during the recent electoral cycle?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: This is an interesting one because, as I mentioned earlier, the reef hasn’t played a central role in the election narrative for the last couple of election cycles. In both 2020 and 2022, it wasn’t really part of the core political narrative. In 2019, it featured a bit more prominently, and during that cycle, social media played a significant role—disinformation definitely did as well, as we showed in the paper I co-wrote with my former student.
What we found was that traditional legacy media on the right—particularly Rupert Murdoch’s publications—were central to spreading certain narratives. Many of these are regional outlets, publishing syndicated stories across different communities, and they also produce The Australian, the only national newspaper. These outlets frequently framed stories by questioning environmental policy decisions, particularly focusing on the cost of net-zero policies from the Labor Party to individual voters—essentially promoting an “economics versus the environment” narrative.
This framing is often reinforced by climate denialism from certain political parties. Sometimes it’s outright denial; other times, it’s a refusal to engage with the science around coal burning, CO₂ emissions, or broader human impact.
Social media, in this context, becomes the platform through which these narratives are amplified. That’s where much of the disinformation circulates.
It’s important to note that the media landscape consists of two distinct dynamics: one is the dominant, loud “middle press” or mainstream media echo chamber; the other is a more decentralized network of progressive voices. You essentially get an echo chamber versus a network dynamic.
Because our political landscape is fairly binary, this dynamic tends to favor dominant, populist narratives. Preferential voting does sometimes complicate this, but the arguments remain largely the same—recycled each election cycle.
We hear the same populist talking points echoed in the UK and Europe: that climate change isn’t man-made, that it has nothing to do with coal. Or, if they don’t go down that path, the narrative shifts to fearmongering—claims that electricity bills will skyrocket, the lights will go out, or that renewable energy is unreliable (e.g., “wind turbines only work when it’s windy”). These are classic, well-worn lines used by populist parties everywhere—tried, tested, and repeated in every election cycle.
The Greens’ Paradox of Power in Parliament
How do you interpret the Greens’ simultaneous Senate gains and House losses within the broader context of Australian environmental politics? Does this reflect a strategic misalignment between parliamentary ambitions and the affective terrain of regional constituencies?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: The Greens did really well in the last election—back in 2022—by their standards. They gained two inner-city seats and the seat of Brisbane, which is the capital of Queensland. If you’re not familiar, these seats were heavily affected by flooding caused by heavy rainfall and a cyclone occurring at the same time. That cyclone hit the north of Queensland, and the resulting water flowed southward.
In that context, the Greens performed strongly, winning lower house (House of Representatives) seats. At the time, they already had representation in the Senate, but not as many seats as they do now.
Fast forward to the current cycle, they’ve only retained one of the three lower house seats they previously held in Queensland. This may be partly because people no longer have the same lived experience of those extreme weather events—flooded homes and damaged infrastructure. Voters may have reverted to the major parties: Labor or the Liberal Party.
But as you mentioned, the Greens made gains in the Senate. They now hold 11 Senate seats and, in effect, will hold the balance of power. The Labor Party has the most seats, followed by the Liberal-National Coalition, and then the Greens. If the Greens negotiate effectively with Labor, they could help deliver the 39 or more votes required to pass legislation in the Senate.
This sets the stage for a significant trade bloc—a shift in power. While the Greens have lost ground in the Lower House, where they now hold only one seat, they’ve gained considerable influence in the Senate. Maintaining a working relationship with Labor will be key, especially around contentious climate issues like net-zero targets. Australia has set different emissions targets: one around 2035 and another by 2050. The feasibility of these timelines is under debate.
What I’m trying to say is that, in the last election, Greens benefited more from urban dynamics. Regional factors were less influential. But this time, due to the way Senate seats are allocated—state-wide rather than by individual electorates—regional and preferential votes may have played a bigger role in their Senate success.
We don’t yet have the full data, but it could turn out that this broader, more regional voting base helped the Greens in the Upper House, while they struggled in the urban inner-suburban seats they performed well in last time.
Beyond Technocracy: Reclaiming Ocean Narratives Through the Blue Humanities
Underwater view of the coral reef. Photo: Dreamstime.
Given your leadership in reef restoration policy and blue humanities scholarship, how might populist critiques of technocratic ocean governance—often framed as elite overreach—be constructively re-engaged to foreground environmental justice and democratic inclusion?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: This is an interesting one. Over time, both the Reef Restoration Project and the Blue Humanities have emerged as relatively novel conceptual frameworks. They haven’t been explored or developed to the same extent as broader marine science. We’ve had small-scale reef restoration for quite some time, but at scale—what we’re now attempting—it’s about understanding how ocean systems function together.
It’s important to note that reef restoration has often been framed in binary terms: either we intervene to save the reefs and corals worldwide, or we do nothing and let them die. That binary framing has become problematic, and I think that’s where the perception of elitism comes in. The message becomes: “Either let us do this, or the reef will die.” That kind of either-or position limits the conversation. Initially, around 2017–2018, this was the dominant narrative. But now, there’s growing work focused on reframing our relationship with the ocean—rethinking the narratives around the “blue” and how we interact with it.
For example, in the Reef Restoration Project, one study involved surveys and in-depth interviews with more than 100 people. What they found was that individuals who had direct experiences with the reef—such as snorkeling—developed a stronger connection. They began to see the reef not as a scientific playground but as part of their community.
The Blue Humanities framework opens up this space for dialogue. The goal is to ask: What do we need to do to protect the oceans? How can we address climate change? And crucially, how can we do this without relying solely on science?
There are complementary approaches. The Blue Humanities draw from the arts, social sciences, politics, and history—areas that help people engage with these issues in diverse ways. This helps dismantle elitism and fosters a more participatory action research model, where people can understand and engage based on how their minds work and how they relate to the world.
So yes, I understand your point—it is technocratic, and it can be elitist. And while the scientists working on reef restoration are outstanding, their approach is highly engineered and solution-driven, operating within rigid technocratic systems.
The Blue Humanities—and other interdisciplinary methods—allow us to open up the narrative, create new stories, and still aim toward the same goal: encouraging people to bear witness to what’s happening. The difference is, these stories aren’t confined to foundational or pure science frameworks, like those used within RRAP (Reef Restoration and Adaptation Program).
Restoration Requires Political Will, Not Just Scientific Evidence
What institutional safeguards or communicative strategies would you recommend to inoculate reef science and environmental policy-making against the populist backlash tactics identified in your recent analyses of media manipulation and science skepticism?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: Oh, that’s a PhD in itself—not just a paper. And it’s a hard one, because, as I’ve alluded to, this is part of a global problem. It’s deeply connected to how people receive information and how narratives are framed.
At the end of the day, there is a need for policymakers to recognize that there’s space for restoration and for alternative or complementary methods to more traditional approaches. But it’s a slow process. Regulation can be slow—unless we have a crisis like the pandemic, where we clearly demonstrated that things can move quickly when needed.
Still, this is something that requires political will—and that’s not unique to Australia. It applies globally, whether you’re talking about coral reef restoration or broader ecosystem restoration, including marine and terrestrial systems, which have been studied and implemented far longer than ocean restoration.
I think it’s really about a convergence of efforts and, importantly, about shifting the broader mindset. That includes scientists being honest and realistic about what large-scale restoration can actually achieve—and then crafting policies that support and enable those realistic goals.
Women Wanted to Be on the Front Line—Not in the Kitchen
Photo: Dreamstime.
In your work on gender and environmental activism (e.g., Knitting Nannas and anti-fracking movements), how do you see the gendered performance of care and stewardship contrasting with masculinist populist narratives of control, particularly in climate policy debates?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: There are a couple of things I think of here. It’s very interesting that, in the last election cycle in Australia, we saw the emergence of what some have called the “Teals.” These are independents who prioritize climate change mitigation and adaptation as core policy issues, while also adopting an economically pragmatic approach. Although they are all independents, many began receiving financial support from Climate 200 in 2019. What’s notable is that many of these independents are community-based or city-based—and predominantly women. Not exclusively, of course—there are men in the mix—but there is a gendered dynamic worth highlighting.
There’s a connection here to movements like the Knitting Nannas. In both cases, these women have encountered patriarchal systems that try to define their roles and restrict their participation. In mainstream politics, as well as within broader activist spaces, this has often meant being side-lined or pigeon-holed.
One anecdote from the Knitting Nannas stands out. That group, a female-led anti-fracking movement, emerged partly because women involved in broader environmental groups—such as Lock the Gate—found themselves confined to “traditional” support roles, like cooking at protest camps, instead of being allowed front-line or leadership roles. They wanted to be out there, leading, visible, and equal. So they created a space where they could do that—and the act of knitting became a form of peaceful resistance and identity.
I think we are seeing a broader gender shift, particularly within activism and increasingly within the independent political movement. Women are stepping forward—not because this is solely a gender issue, but because they are reaching a point where their leadership is more visible and impactful.
It’s also important to remember that, since Federation in 1901, Australia has only had one female Prime Minister. But now, things are shifting. The deputy leader of the Liberal Party is Susan Ley, and the Greens’ Senate leader is Larissa Waters, while Prime Minister Anthony Albanese leads the Labor government.
So we’re seeing change, particularly in a political culture as historically conservative as Australia’s. Movements like the Teals, community independents, and the philanthropic and grassroots funding that supports them are helping make that change possible. It feels like we’re witnessing the beginnings of a move toward greater gender parity within the political system.
Time Will Tell If Hyper-Local Politics Can Dislodge Extractive Power
Given the strategic expansion of community independents into regional and rural electorates, how sustainable is their model of hyper-local environmental governance amid the entrenched political economies of extractivism and agrarian populism?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: I think time will tell. I know that’s a very wishy-washy answer, but ultimately, time will be the judge—particularly in Australia. We’ll see whether Australia follows a pattern observed elsewhere in the world, where voters move away from the traditional two major parties and toward independents and minor parties, especially because of hyper-local issues that directly affect them.
These include concerns like healthcare, education, early childhood care, and other day-to-day needs. The community independents tend to frame their approach not through the lens of agrarian politics, but through the broader needs of the community. They present themselves as advocates for the community as a whole, rather than emphasizing any one specific sector.
We’re seeing independents increasingly occupy that space, while, in some states, traditional conservative parties—particularly the Liberals (who are the conservative party in Australia)—appear to be retreating from regional and rural constituencies.
If we look at the last election, for example, the National Party—a right-leaning, rural-focused party—lost only one seat, whereas the Liberals lost many more. The Nationals, with their agrarian populist base, largely retained their support. While there are both progressive and populist factions within that party, they have managed to hold on to their core constituencies.
This suggests that agrarian populism still resonates in regional Australia. Meanwhile, the Liberals are struggling to define their role in these areas, which has sparked ongoing debate about whether the coalition between the Liberal and National parties can or should continue in its current form.
So yes, voters are turning to independents and to the Nationals to represent regional issues—but whether this momentum continues over multiple election cycles or proves to be a one-off anomaly remains to be seen.
The Blue Humanities Help Us Tell Ocean Stories Through Plural Voices, Not Just Science
To what extent can the cultural narratives embedded in the Blue Humanities reconfigure public imaginaries of marine ecologies in ways that resist populist reductionism and foster more pluralistic ocean ethics?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: The key with that would be to have that kind of variety of pluralistic voices. As we talked about earlier, it’s about having a different lens in the way that you tell the story of the ocean. One of the key ways of doing that, I would suggest, is through co-design with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, particularly in Australia.
They have lived on the land for a lot longer—65,000 years. They understand how the land and the oceans work. They understand the cycles and the way the system functions. And something like the Blue Humanities is not about co-opting or imposing; it’s clearly about understanding different ways of thinking and different ways of looking for solutions.
So it’s certainly not about cultural adaptation of Indigenous knowledge, but being willing to at least understand it and learn about it. And then, you have two different systems running in Australia, particularly around marine science. There are projects by the Australian Institute for Marine Science, for example, where they have a whole division or strand—I’m not quite sure of the technical term—that’s very much around assisting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.
But it’s also about giving them autonomy and support to do their own projects. And at the same time, you have the scientists understanding that when they go onto sea country, when they go on country, respect needs to be shown. And that isn’t something that was happening ten years ago.
So, looking at the Blue Humanities and the cultural components that make up Australia, it’s not about adopting those perspectives, but about recognizing, understanding, accepting, and seeing how those two things can possibly work together—whether side by side or through a process of co-design. And obviously, it’s about collaboration. The Blue Humanities—this is why we have authors from Torres Strait and elsewhere—is to try and explain to people who may not be familiar how you can understand the relationship with water, the ocean, and the marine space in a way that isn’t rooted in that traditional, science-based, pure science, basic science kind of approach.
It’s Either Jobs and Mining or Nothing—That’s the Binary We Must Move Beyond
Active quarry with machinery and gravel, crushing rock to supply the Adani Carmichael mine in Central Queensland, Australia. Photo: Inge Blessas.
How should we understand the electoral backlash in coal-reliant regions as both a repudiation of top-down climate policy and a symptom of deeper socio-economic dislocation? Can climate justice be effectively articulated in such communities without capitulating to extractive populism?
Dr. Maxine Newlands: I think it can. The classic example that comes to mind is Queensland. In Queensland, we have strong senators who have adopted some of those populist strategies. But at the end of the day, those communities have been heavily reliant on the mining industry. The mining industry has been a key source of employment.
The political debate has often been framed around the loss of jobs. But there is just about enough space within those communities for alternatives. So we hear about things like just transition—moving away from those mining industries. And by mining, I mean fossil fuel mining, coal, etc.
I’m looking more specifically at those areas. But we are still mining in Australia—it’s about creating communities that are provided with an alternative, so those communities don’t just die off because the industry has moved away.
By the same token, we still have a lot of coal mining in those areas. For example, what used to be the Adani mines, now operated by Bravus, is a key player in that region.
That’s where the tension and electoral backlash come from. You’ve also got embedded conservative values in that state, which are tapped into by populist narratives that frame things around a North-South divide—“us and them.”
We had a classic campaign run by the Nationals in 2019. Our two biggest cities—Sydney and Melbourne—are south of Queensland. They ran a bumper sticker campaign with a slogan along the lines of, “If you don’t take my mining job, I won’t take your soy latte.” That created a binary opposition—don’t tell us what to do, we need the mines for our jobs and families.
That kind of populist rhetoric around coal was up against significant activism, like the Stop Adani campaign, which aimed to prevent the mine from opening. We’re still trying to find pathways for these communities to transition, but you’re right: the backlash has come because of that binary—it’s either jobs and mining or nothing.
That kind of framing makes the debate difficult. But ultimately, those communities will have to find alternatives—or rather, policymakers and governments must create them. One of the conversations we’ve had recently was around nuclear. Australia has a moratorium on nuclear power; we don’t have nuclear power stations, just one nuclear facility used for research and medical purposes.
They were trying to introduce the debate around nuclear power as an alternative for those communities, but that hasn’t worked. It’s not a viable long-term solution.
So that kind of repudiation is now folded into a broader debate around what we do next. But it’s increasingly becoming a grassroots, community-based debate. These communities are being held up as either the victims or the winners of whatever policy is yet to be decided.
We Haven’t Got That Far-Right Green Appropriation
And finally, Professor Newlands, do you perceive any co-optation of environmental discourse by far-right actors—such as eco-nationalism or green nativism—and if so, how should progressive movements strategically differentiate themselves in such contested semiotic terrain?
Dr. Maxine Newlands:I’m not sure we have that kind of extreme right-wing environmental discourse in Australia. Are you referring to the kind of green anarchism or radical eco-politics sometimes discussed on the far left? If so, not really. We certainly have a wide range of progressive groups—lobby organizations like GetUp, activist networks, and foundations such as the Bob Brown Foundation—but I don’t think any of them operate at the level you’re describing, at least not with significant electoral impact. It’s not something that has featured prominently in recent election cycles. There may be minor parties or independents entertaining such ideas, but that kind of radical or anarchist spectrum doesn’t really factor into mainstream political debate here, including within the Greens.
We have people that are more proactive, and people and organizations that host events. They may put on a protest, they’ll stage a high-profile action, or they’ll take their position to Canberra in order to generate public awareness. I’m thinking of organizations led by former leaders of the Greens, for example, like the Bob Brown Foundation. But to the point of it being anarchic, I would say personally I’m not aware of anything like that—that doesn’t mean it’s not there, but it’s hard to measure.
You’ve kind of got the middle ground. You’ve got Labor, which is progressive to the left on the environment, and they’re introducing their net zero targets. They have a whole suite of regulation and policy under the umbrella of “nature positive,” which includes things like biodiversity credits as well as net zero. Then you have the Greens, a little further left, and maybe a couple of others. But they generally tend to be more activist, lobby, or advocacy groups—things like the Environmental Defenders Office, which is a group of lawyers that help or advise activists like the Knitting Nannas.
But we haven’t got that far-right green appropriation to any significant degree. Let’s see what happens—it’s interesting that the Liberals lost so many seats this time around. It gives Labor, and as I said earlier with the Senate, a much bigger block to get things through.
For example, in the last election there was a bit of caution about whether the whole suite of environmental policy and regulation under “nature positive” would get through, so it was withdrawn. We would probably expect to see a version of that come back now, because there’ll be more confidence in getting those sorts of measures passed—which, of course, naturally negates any of those more far-right amplifiers, because the main political parties are already doing what those voices might be demanding in terms of regulation.
Please cite as: Yilmaz, Ihsan; Mamouri, Ali; Morieson, Nicholas & Omer, Muhammad. (2025). “The Transnational Diffusion of Digital Authoritarianism: From Moscow and Beijing to Ankara.” European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). May 12, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/rp0098
This report examines how Turkey has become a paradigmatic case of digital authoritarian convergence through the mechanisms of learning, emulation, and cooperative interdependence. Drawing on Chinese and Russian models—and facilitated by Western and Chinese tech companies—Turkey has adopted sophisticated digital control strategies across legal, surveillance, and information domains. The study identifies how strategic partnerships, infrastructure agreements (e.g., Huawei’s 5G and smart city projects), and shared authoritarian logics have enabled the Erdoğan regime to suppress dissent and reshape the digital public sphere. Through legal reforms, deep packet inspection (DPI) technologies, and coordinated digital propaganda, Turkey exemplifies how authoritarian digital governance diffuses globally. The findings highlight an urgent need for international accountability, cyber norms, and ethical tech governance to contain the expanding influence of digital repression.
This research explores the diffusion of digital authoritarian practices in Turkey as a prominent example of the Muslim world, focusing on the three mechanisms of learning, emulation, and cooperative interdependence, covering four main domains: Legal frameworks, Internet censorship, urban surveillance, and Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs). The study covers both internal and external diffusion based on a wide range of sources. These include domestic precedents, examples from authoritarian regimes like China and Russia, and the role of Western companies in spreading digital authoritarian practices.
The study had several findings. The key findings are detailed below:
Learning: Turkey, like other regional countries that experienced public unrest, has learned from previous experience in order to impose power and control on people using different digital capabilities. Countries like China and Russia played significant roles in this learning process across the region, including in Turkey. The research highlights the importance of both internal learning from past protest movements and external influences from state and non-state actors.
Emulation: Authoritarian regimes in Turkey and across the Muslim world have emulated China and Russia’s internet governance models in all four aforementioned domains. The Turkish government has developed its own surveillance and censorship techniques, influenced by the experiences of authoritarian states and bolstered by training and technology transfers from China and Russia, and certain western companies.
Cooperative interdependence: Turkey’s economic challenges have led it to forge closer ties with China, particularly through the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). This cooperation often comes with financial incentives, promoting the adoption of China’s digital governance practices, including urban surveillance systems and censorship technologies.
Role of private technology companies: Western companies have played a significant role in facilitating the spread of digital authoritarianism, often operating independently of their governments’ policies. Companies like Sandvine and NSO Group have provided tools that support the Turkish government’s digital control strategies, contributing to a complex landscape of censorship and surveillance.
Diffusion of SDIOs: The diffusion process of digital authoritarian practice is not limited to importing and using digital technologies. It also includes the spreading of legal frameworks to restrict digital freedom and also running Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs), including state propaganda and conspiracy theories that China and Russia had a significant role in.
Based on these findings, the study proposes several recommendations to counteract the spread of digital authoritarian practices:
– Strengthening international cyber norms and regulations to define and regulate digital governance, particularly in countries with strong ties to the West.
– Enhancing support for digital rights and privacy protections by advocating for comprehensive laws and supporting civil society organizations in Turkey.
– Encouraging responsible corporate behavior among technology firms to ensure compliance with human rights standards.
– Fostering regional and global cooperation on digital freedom to counter digital authoritarianism through joint initiatives and technical assistance.
– Leveraging economic incentives to promote ethical technology use and partnerships with human rights-aligned providers.
– Using strategic diplomatic channels to encourage Turkey to adopt responsible surveillance practices and align with global digital governance norms.
The research illustrates the dynamics of digital authoritarianism in Turkey, revealing a complex interplay of emulation, learning, and economic incentives that facilitate the spread of censorship and surveillance practices. The findings underscore the need for international cooperation and proactive measures to safeguard digital freedoms in an increasingly authoritarian digital landscape.
Photo: Hannu Viitanen.
Introduction
Research suggests that a significant number of countries in the Muslim world, specifically those in the Middle East, are often characterized by authoritarian governance (Durac & Cavatorta, 2022; Yenigun, 2021; Stepan et al., 2018; Yilmaz, 2021; 2025). The rise of the internet and social media during the late 2000s provided immense capacities to civil society and individual activists in the Muslim world. This development burst into political action during the late 2000s and the early 2010s in the instances of the Gezi protests in Turkey and other examples in the region, including the Green Movement in Iran and the Arab Spring protests across the Arab world (Iosifidis & Wheeler, 2015; Demirhan, 2014; Lynch, 2011; Gheytanchi, 2016).
The fact that the protesters in all these cases have extensively used the internet and associated technologies (e.g., social media, digital messaging, and navigation) has led many observers to declare the latter as ‘liberation technology’ due to their role in facilitating anti-government movements across non-democratic countries (Diamond & Plattner, 2012; Ziccardi, 2012). Advocates of the internet as a liberation tool have also pointed to enhanced social capacity to mobilize and organize through the spread of dramatic videos and images, instigating attitudinal change, and countering government monopoly over the production and dissemination of information (Breuer, 2012; Ruijgrok, 2017). These qualities have been seen as giving the internet an equalizing power between the state and society. In the early 2000s, when the Internet and social media were spreading across the developing world, authoritarian governments were generally unable to control the digital sphere; they lacked the technical expertise and the digital infrastructure to curb the internet. So, they typically relied on completely shutting it down (Cattle, 2015; Gunitsky, 2020).
However, authoritarian regimes gradually learned how to use the digital space for empowering their control on the society and have even started using it for transnational repression and sharp power (Yilmaz, 2025, Yilmaz et al., 2024; Yilmaz, Akbarzadeh & Bashirov 2023; Yilmaz, Morieson & Shakil, 2025; Yilmaz & Shakil, 2024). Scholars such as Sunstein (2009) and Negroponte (1996) have warned against the capacity of the internet to fragment the public sphere into separate echo chambers and thus fundamentally impede ‘deliberative democracy,’ which is supposed to be based on debates of ideas and exchange of views.
Furthermore, the breakthroughs in deep learning, neural network, and machine learning, together with the widespread use of the internet, have accelerated the growth of artificial intelligence (AI), providing more capability to authoritarian regimes to impose control on people. In a Pew poll, almost half of the respondents believed that the ‘use of [modern] technology will mostly weaken core aspects of democracy and democratic representation in the next decade’ (Anderson & Rainie, 2020). This pessimism is driven by an unprecedented degree of surveillance and digital control brought forward by digital technologies, undermining central notions of freedom, individuality, autonomy, and rationality at the center of deliberative democracy (Radavoi, 2019; Stone et al., 2016; Bostrom, 2014; Helbing et al., 2019; Damnjanović, 2015). Tools of the governments to digitally repress democracy include smart surveillance using facial recognition applications, targeted censorship, disinformation and misinformation campaigns, and cyber-attacks and hacking (Feldstein, 2019).
Research as to how digital technologies such as high-speed internet, social media, AI, and big data affect, enable or disable democracy, human rights, freedom, and electoral process is in its infancy (Gardels & Berggruen, 2019; Margetts, 2013; Papacharissi, 2009). Further, most of this scant literature is focused on Western democracies. The existing literature on Muslim-majority countries is mostly focused on traditional social media (Jenzen et al., 2021; Wheeler, 2017; Tusa, 2013). This is despite the fact that extensive digital capabilities, especially AI and big data, offer governments of these countries the capabilities to exert control over their citizens, with disastrous outcomes for democracy. Indeed, we may be facing the rise of a new type of authoritarian rule: digital authoritarianism, that is, ‘the use of digital information technology by authoritarian regimes to surveil, repress, and manipulate domestic and foreign populations’ (Polyakova & Meserole, 2019; see also Ahmed et al., 2024; Akbarzadeh et al., 2024; 2025).
With the expansion of the internet in developing countries, authoritarian governments derive a similar benefit from technological leapfrogging with the capacity to selectively implement new surveillance and control mechanisms from the burgeoning supply of market-ready advanced AI and big-data-enabled applications. As one internet pioneer foreshadowed to Pew “by 2030, as much of 75% of the world’s population will be enslaved by AI-based surveillance systems developed in China and exported around the world” (Anderson & Rainie, 2020). Developing countries often experience technological leapfrogging; they shift to advanced technologies directly, skipping the middle, more expensive and less efficient stages because modern technologies, by the time of their implementation within those countries, become more economical and effective than the initial technology. This leapfrogging is demonstrated via the adoption lifecycle of mobile phones to that of landlines. It took less than 17 years, from the early 2000s to 2017, for mobile phones to be extensively adopted in Turkey, from 25% to 96%. (Our World in Data, 2021).
After the crises of the early 2010s, both democratic and authoritarian regimes worldwide started to invest heavily in sophisticated equipment and expertise to monitor, analyze, and ultimately crack down on online and offline dissent (Aziz & Beydoun, 2020; Feldstein, 2021). In addition to curtailing independent speech and activism online, authoritarian regimes have sought to deceive and manipulate digital environments in order to shape their citizens’ views. They have flooded the digital realm with propaganda narratives using trolls, bots, and influencers under their control (Tan, 2020).
More importantly, thanks to authoritarian diffusion, governments in developing countries are learning from and emulating the experiences of their peers of surveillance technologies such as China and Russia. However, there has been limited research on the political mechanisms through which such digital authoritarian practices spread. Against this backdrop, this report examines the mechanisms through which digital authoritarian practices diffuse in Turkey as an example of authoritarian regimes in the Middle East. We ask: What kind of authoritarian practices have the governments enacted in the digital realm? How have these practices diffused across the region? To address these questions systematically, we develop an analytical framework that examines the mechanisms of diffusion of digital authoritarian practices. Our framework identifies three mechanisms of diffusion: emulation, learning, and cooperative interdependence. We focus on four groups of digital authoritarian practices: legal frameworks, Internet censorship, urban surveillance, and Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs). We aim to show how emulation, learning and cooperative interdependence take place in each of these four digital authoritarian practices. In addition to the above, the report will explore the international dimension of this phenomenon, discovering how Western companies, in addition to totalitarian systems like Russia and China, played a role in empowering the Turkish government to claim the digital space.
We first discuss our analytical framework which integrates the scholarship of digital authoritarian practices and authoritarian diffusion, and explain the concepts of learning, emulation, and as prominent diffusion mechanisms. We then move to the empirical section where we first identify convergent outcomes that are comparable between earlier and later adopters and then we will elucidate the mechanisms through which the diffusion process occurred by showing contact points and plausible channels through which decision-makers were able to adopt from one another.
Analytical Framework
To explore the phenomenon of diffusion, we follow best practices laid out in the literature (see Ambrosio, 2010; Ambrosio & Tolstrup, 2019; Bank & Weyland, 2020). We begin by identifying convergent outcomes that are comparable between earlier and later adopters. As part of this, we will also establish feasible connections between the two parties, which may take the form of physical proximity, trade linkages, membership in international organizations, bilateral arrangements, historical ties, cultural similarities, or shared language. Then, we will elucidate the mechanisms through which the diffusion process occurred by identifying contact points and plausible channels through which decision-makers were able to adopt from one another.
We will follow three good practices that have been advised by scholars (e.g., Ambrosio & Tolstrup, 2019; Strang & Soule, 1998; Gilardi, 2010; 2012). First, we adopt a comparative design that involves four middle powers (see Strang & Soule, 1998). There are important similarities and differences among the four cases that make comparison a useful exercise. Second, we provide extensive data to showcase the workings of diffusion mechanisms despite the challenge of working on authoritarian settings. As Ambrosio and Tolstrup (2019: 2752) noted, “the relevant evidence needed can be hard to acquire in authoritarian settings.” It is much more likely to gain access to strong evidence in liberal democratic settings where much of the current diffusion research has accumulated. Our article contributes to the literature on diffusion in authoritarian settings with Turkey as a prominent example. Finally, we provide smoking gun evidence based on several leaked documents to support our assertions.
In the empirical section, we follow the convention (see Ambrosio & Tolstrup, 2019) and start with identifying convergent outcomes among the major political actors in regard to the practices of restrictive legal frameworks, Internet censorship, urban surveillance and SDIOs. This section involves demonstrating the items that have been diffused between earlier and later adopters. Not only is there a substantial amount of similarity between the practices among these political systems, but also, we show a temporal sequence between earlier and later adopters that point at convergence.
We then move on to explain plausible mechanisms of diffusion, following the model provided by Bashirov et al. (2025): Learning, Emulation, and Cooperative Interdependence. It’s important to highlight from the outset that these three mechanisms functioned together in Turkey settings. As was observed in other settings (see Sharman, 2008), it is not feasible to examine the impact of these mechanisms independently. Instead of existing as separate entities or operating in a simple additive manner, these mechanisms are inherently interconnected, and they do overlap. We follow this understanding in our empirical analysis and discuss how each mechanism worked in tandem with other mechanisms.
Types of Digital Authoritarianism
Illustration: Shutterstock / Skorzewiak.
We identified four main domains of digital authoritarianism in general, and examples of them could be found in Turkey’s case as well.
Restrictive Legal Frameworks
The legal framework includes a variety of practices. We identified the following:
1- Laws that mandated internet service providers to establish a system allowing real-time monitoring and recording of traffic on their networks. These legislations mandated internet service providers to establish a system allowing real-time monitoring and recording of traffic on their networks (Privacy International, 2019). Moreover, all censorship laws refer to national security and terrorism as vague criteria to enforce widespread censorship of undesirable content. In Turkey, a Presidential decree (No 671) in 2016 granted the government extensive power to restrict internet access, block websites, and censor media (IHD, 2017). Under the decree, telecommunications companies are required to comply with any government orders within two hours of receiving them. In recent years, the Turkish government also prosecuted thousands of people for criticizing President Erdogan or his government in print or on social media (Freedom House, 2021).
2- Laws that have converged around penalization of online speech, referring to concepts such as national identity, culture, and defamation. It is hard to miss similarities between the laws in Turkey among other regional countries and those enacted in China earlier. In 2013, China’s Supreme People’s Court issued a legal interpretation that expanded the scope of the crime of defamation to include information shared on the internet (Human Rights Watch, 2013). In 2022, the Turkish Parliament passed new legislation that criminalized “disseminating false information,” punishable by one to three years in prison, and increased government control over online news websites. Article 23 of the law was particularly controversial as it stated that “Any person who publicly disseminates untrue information concerning the internal and external security, public order and public health of the country with the sole intention of creating anxiety, fear or panic among the public, and in a manner likely to disturb public peace, shall be sentenced to imprisonment from one year to three years” (Human Rights Watch, 2022). This clearly shows the pattern of diffusion from China and Russia by leaving vague and broad provisions of what constitutes “national security,” “peace” and “order” (Weber, 2021: 170-171; Yilmaz, Caman & Bashirov, 2020; Yilmaz, Shipoli & Demir, 2023; Yilmaz & Shipoli, 2022).
3- Laws that ban or restrict the use of VPNs following China and Russia’s lead. In Turkey, VPNs are legal, but many of their servers and websites are blocked. China banned unauthorized VPN use in 2017 in a new Cybersecurity Law. Russia introduced a similar ban the same year. The Information and Communication Technologies Authority (BTK), national telecommunications regulatory and inspection authority of Turkey, issued a blocking order targeting 16 Virtual Private Networks (VPNs). These VPNs, including TunnelBear, Proton, and Psiphon, are popular tools used by audiences seeking to access news websites critical of the government.
While entirely banning VPN access remains a challenge, governments can employ Deep Packet Inspection (DPI) technology to identify and throttle VPN traffic. Countries like Iran, China, and Russia are indulging in such practices. Users in Iran and Turkey, for example, have reported extensive blockage of VPN apps and websites since 2021. Engaging in efforts to access blocked content through a VPN can potentially result in imprisonment (Danao & Venz, 2023). Simon Migliano, research head at Top10VPN.com, acknowledges that blocking VPN websites in Turkey makes it harder to download and sign up for new services. Moreover, individual VPN providers like Hide.me, SecureVPN, and Surfshark confirm technical difficulties for their users in Turkey. Proton, on the other hand, maintains that their services haven’t been completely blocked.
As such, the report “Freedom on the Net 2023” by Freedom House (2023) reflects the aforesaid harsh reality, ranking Turkey as “not free” in terms of internet access and freedom of expression. However, it is worth noting that the Turkish government’s censorship efforts are met with a determined citizenry. Audiences, even young schoolchildren according to Ozturan (2023), have become adept at using VPNs to access banned content. Media outlets themselves sometimes promote VPNs to help their audiences bypass restrictions. Examples abound: VOA Turkish and Deutsche Welle (DW), upon being blocked, directed their audiences towards Psiphon, Proton, and nthLink to access their broadcasts. Diken, a prominent news website, even maintains a dedicated “VPN News” section offering access to censored content dating back to 2014.
4- Laws that tighten control on social media companies. While Western social media platforms remain accessible in Turkey, in recent years the government has introduced similar laws and regulations that increase their grip over the content shared on these platforms. They do so by threatening the social media companies with bandwidth restrictions and outright bans if they fail to comply with the governments’ requests. Moreover, in 2020, the Turkish Parliament passed a new law that mandated tech giants such as Facebook and Twitter (now X) to appoint representatives in Turkey for handling complaints related to the content on their platforms. Companies that decline to assign an official representative have been subject to fines, advertising prohibitions, and bandwidth restrictions that would render their networks unusable due to slow internet speeds. Facebook complied with the law in 2021 and assigned a legal entity in Turkey after refusing to do so the previous year (Bilginsoy, 2021).
Since the early 2010s, many countries in the region including Turkey have enacted a series of legal reforms that converged around similar concepts and restrictions. As Table 1 shows, these laws follow the Chinese and Russian laws in temporal order. The table makes a comparison with some other countries in the region as well, in order to see Turkey’s position in this field.
Internet Shutdown
All governments in the region have resorted to shutting down the internet as a simple solution over the past 20 years, mostly during the times of mass protests, social unrest or military operations. In Turkey, in 2015, access to Facebook, Twitter and YouTube as well as 166 other websites were blocked when an image of a Turkish prosecutor held at gunpoint was circulated online. The internet was also cut off multiple times during the July 15, 2016 coup attempt, as well as during the Turkish military’s operations in the Southeastern regions of the country. In many instances, the government has used bandwidth throttling to deny its citizens access to the internet. However, internet shutdown is costly as it affects the delivery of essential public and private services and has been dubbed as the Dictator’s Digital Dilemma. Therefore, even when it is practiced, the shutdown is limited to a certain location, mostly a city or a region, and would typically last only few days. According to Access Now (2022), an internet rights organization, no internet shutdown has taken place in Turkey in 2021.
Given the high cost of switching off the internet and thanks to the rise of sophisticated technologies to filter, manipulate and re-direct internet content, censorship has become a more widely used digital authoritarian practice over the last decade. Countries have converged on the use of DPI technology. DPI is “a type of data processing that looks in detail at the contents of the data being sent, and re-routes it accordingly” (Geere, 2012). DPI inspects the data being sent over a network and may take various forms of actions, such as logging the content and alerting, as well as blocking or re-rerouting the traffic. DPI allows comprehensive network analysis. While it can be used for innocuous purposes, such as checking the content for viruses and ensuring the correct supply of content, it can also be used for digital eavesdropping, internet censorship, and even stealing sensitive information (Bendrath & Mueller, 2011).
Countries across the Muslim world including Turkey started in the mid-2010s to acquire DPI technology from Western and Chinese companies who have become important sources of diffusion. US-Canadian company Sandvine/Procera has provided DPI surveillance equipment to national networks operating in Turkey (Turk Telekom). This system operates over connections between an internet site and the target user and allows the government to tamper with the data sent through an unencrypted network (HTTP vs. HTTPS). Sandvine and its parent company Francisco Partners emerged at the center of the diffusion of DPI technology in the Middle East. Recent revelations show that the company has played significant role in facilitating the spread of ideas between countries. Through their information campaign, Sandvine contributed to learning by governments. As such, Sandvine and Netsweeper’s prominent engagement in provision of spying technology shows that it is not merely Chinese companies that enable digital authoritarianism. Western companies have been just as active.
Turkey made its first purchase from Sandvine (then Procera) in 2014 after the Gezi protests and corruption investigations rocked the AKP government the previous year. The government later used these devices to block websites, including Wikipedia, and those belonging to unwanted entities, such as independent news outlets and certain opposition groups in later years. The governments in the region including Turkey have gathered widespread spying and phishing capabilities sourced from mostly Western companies. For example, in Turkey, FinFisher used FinSpy in 2017 on a Turkish website disguised as the campaign website for the Turkish opposition movement and enabled the surveillance of political activists and journalists. FinSpy allowed the MIT to locate people, monitor phone calls and chats and mobile phone and computer data (ECCHR, 2023). This could link in with our discussion in emulation more clearly as well regarding private companies being key actors (Marczak et al., 2018).
Urban Surveillance
Three high-definition video surveillance cameras operated by the city police. Photo: Dreamstime.
With the advance of CCTV and AI technology, urban surveillance capabilities have grown exponentially over the past ten years. Dubbed as “safe” or “smart” cities, these urban surveillance projects are “mainly concerned with automating the policing of society using video cameras and other digital technologies to monitor and diagnose “suspicious behavior” (Kynge et al., 2021). The concept of Smart city captures an entire range of ICT capabilities implemented in an urban area. This might start with the simple goal of bringing internet connectivity and providing electronic payment solutions for basic services and evolve to establishing AI-controlled surveillance systems, as we have seen in many Chinese cities (Zeng, 2020). Smart cities deploy a host of ICT—including high-speed communication networks, sensors, and mobile phone apps—to boost mobility and connectivity, supercharge the digital economy, increase energy efficiency, improve the delivery of services, and generally raise the level of their residents’ welfare (Hong, 2022). The “smart” concept generally involves gathering large amounts of data to enhance various city functions. This can include optimizing the use of utilities and other services, reducing traffic congestion and pollution, and ultimately empowering both public authorities and residents.
The rapid development of smart city infrastructures across world has led to controversies as critics argued that the surveillance technology enables pervasive collection, retention, and misuse of personal data by everything from law enforcement agencies to private companies. Moreover, in recent years, China has been a major promoter of the ‘safe city’ concept that focuses on surveillance-driven policing of urban environments – a practice that has been perfected in most Chinese cities (Triolo, 2020). Several Chinese companies have been at the forefront of China’s effort to export its model of safe city: Huawei, ZTE Corporation, Hangzhou Hikvision Digital Technology, Zhejiang Dahua Technology, Alibaba, and Tiandy (Yan, 2019).
China has been a significant exporter of surveillance technology worldwide, including to countries like Turkey. Chinese firms such as Hikvision and Dahua have supplied surveillance equipment, including facial recognition systems, to various nations. Reports indicate that Turkey has utilized facial recognition software to monitor and identify individuals during protests (Radu, 2019; Bozkurt, 2021).
Holistically, the global expansion of China’s urban surveillance model sparks significant concerns, particularly in relation to its potential to increase authoritarian practices in adopting countries. In the absence of robust counter mechanisms, the adoption of Chinese surveillance model by authoritarian states is only likely to augment.
Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs)
Another interesting aspect of authoritarian regimes is the use of digital technologies in creating and spreading pro-regime propaganda and conspiracy narratives that benefit the regimes. This is happening extensively in the region, including Turkey, as a part of the manipulation of the people in order to impose control on them and silence the opposition. The pro-regime propaganda machine uses conspiracy theories with a dual strategy, defensive and offensive, to shape the public perception of the regime. Defensively, it seeks to portray the regime as a legitimate national authority, emphasising its adherence to the nation’s interests and well-being in a way that no legitimate alternative is imaginable. In these narratives, leaders are portrayed as heroic figures with exceptional qualities, and the system is presented as flawless and well-suited to the country’s needs. On the offensive front, the propaganda machine works to discredit any alternative to the current regime. Opposition figures are either assassinated, arrested or labelled as traitors, criminals, or foreign agents so they can be eliminated politically. To reach to this end, conspiracy theories link opposition figures to nefarious plots or foreign intervention, thus undermining the credibility of opposition narratives.
In recent years, propaganda and conspiracy theories have played a significant role in Turkey’s political landscape, influencing political narratives and public opinion. The Turkish government, particularly under President Erdoğan and his ruling party (AKP), has been known for using state-controlled or pro-government media to push certain narratives. The government’s media strategy includes promoting nationalistic themes, highlighting Turkey’s achievements under AKP rule, and portraying the government as the protector of national interests against both internal and external threats. The government often emphasizes Turkey’s sovereignty and positions itself against perceived Western interference, such as criticisms from the European Union or the United States. By doing so, it strengthens a nationalist image, resonating with citizens who view Turkey as being unfairly targeted by foreign powers. Propaganda often incorporates Islamic and conservative values to appeal to the AKP’s core voter base. Erdoğan’s speeches and media outlets supportive of the government emphasize the defense of Islamic culture and values, framing the AKP as a protector of both religion and national identity. Government narratives frequently depict opposition groups as threats to national stability. This includes not only political rivals but also groups like the Kurdish population, the Gülen movement (which is accused by Erdogan regime of being behind the 2016 coup attempt), and the pro-Kurdish HDP party, who are often associated with terrorism or disloyalty.
Additionally, conspiracy theories have been pervasive in Turkish political culture, often used to explain domestic unrest or justify political decisions. Here, pro-government media often propagate conspiracies about the opposition, portraying them as aligned with foreign powers or terrorist organizations. A persistent theme in Turkish political discourse is the idea that foreign powers or global financial institutions are working to undermine Turkey’s economy and political stability. Moreover, the failed coup attempt in July 2016 became a fertile ground for conspiracy theories. While the Turkish government attributed the coup attempt to Fethullah Gülen, a cleric who lived in exile in the United States for decades until his death, alternative theories continue to circulate. Some claim that foreign powers, particularly the US, were involved in the coup plot, while others suggest that elements within the Turkish government may have allowed the coup to proceed as a means to justify a subsequent crackdown on opposition. In the same vein, many conspiracy theories center around the idea that Western powers, particularly the US and Europe, are conspiring against Turkey to prevent it from becoming a major regional power. These theories often cite Turkey’s geopolitical location, its military interventions in the region, or its aspirations to become an independent economic powerhouse.
A significant portion of the mainstream media in Turkey is either directly controlled by the government or aligned with it. These outlets often echo government narratives, downplaying criticisms, and emphasizing government achievements or conspiracy-laden stories about opposition and foreign interference. Despite the dominance of pro-government media, social media platforms have become spaces for both opposition voices and pro-government voices. The government has sought to control these platforms through legal means, introducing laws to regulate social media and threatening to block access to platforms that do not comply with government requests to remove content.
Mechanisms of Diffusion
We observed that the diffusion of digital authoritarianism occurs in three main mechanisms: learning, emulation and cooperative interdependence.
Learning
It has been widely argued that countries across the globe learned from domestic and foreign experience to adopt various forms of digital authoritarian practices. This is more prominent in countries experiencing public unrest, like Turkey and Egypt. For example, they both have learned lessons from the Gezi Park and Tahrir Square protests, respectively. Despite many indications to this effect, for a long time there was a lack of smoking gun evidence pointing at this type of learning. In 2016, a series of leaked emails from Erdogan’s son-in-law and then Energy Minister Berat Albayrak’s account revealed that in the aftermath of the Gezi Park protests, the Erdogan regime identified its lack of control of digital space as a problem and sought solutions in the form of “set[ting] up a team of professional graphic designers, coders, and former army officials who had received training in psychological warfare” (Akis, 2022). In later years, the regime built one of the world’s most extensive internet surveillance networks on social media, particularly on X, according to Norton Symantec.
In regard to external learning, China (and Chinese companies) and Western private companies have been at the forefront of actors promoting internet censorship practices. China has been not only a major promoter but also a source of learning for middle powers when it comes to internet surveillance, data fusion, and AI. The Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) has become a key vehicle that drives these efforts. For example, during the 2021 SCO summit, Chinese officials led a panel titled the Thousand Cities Strategic Algorithms, which trained the international audience that included many developing country representations on developing a “national data brain” that integrates various forms of financial and personal data and uses artificial intelligence to analyze it. The SCO website reported that 50 countries are engaged in discussions with the Thousand Cities Strategic Algorithms initiative (Ryan-Mosley, 2022). China has also been active in providing media and government training programs to representatives from BRI-affiliated countries. In one prominent example, Chinese Ministry of Public Security instructed Meiya Pico, a Chinese cybersecurity company, to train government representatives from Turkey, Pakistan, Egypt, and other countries on digital forensics (see Weber, 2019: 9-11).
Moreover, the spread of internet censorship and surveillance technologies points to a highly probable learning event facilitated by western corporate entities. Specifically, Sandvine, NSO Group, and their parent company Francisco Partners, emerged at the center of the diffusion of DPI technology in most Middle Eastern countries except for Iran where the company is not allowed to operate. Recent revelations show that the company has played a significant role in facilitating the spread of ideas between countries. Alexander Haväng, the ex-Chief Technical Officer of Sandvine, explained in an internal newsletter addressed to the company’s employees that their technology can appeal to governments whose surveillance capacities are hampered by encryption. Haväng wrote that Sandvine’s equipment could “show who’s talking to who, for how long, and we can try to discover online anonymous identities who’ve uploaded incriminating content online” (Gallagher, 2022).
The spread of DPI practices in general and Sandvine’s technology in particular is also evidenced by the chronology of acquisition by developing countries. The list of countries contracted to buy Sandvine’s DPI technology includes Turkey, Algeria, Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, Egypt, Eritrea, Jordan, Kuwait, Pakistan, Qatar, Russia, Sudan, Thailand, the United Arab Emirates, and Uzbekistan (Gallagher, 2022). There is a clear trend here, both in terms of regime susceptibility and chronology of adoption. Turkey purchased Sandvine’s DPI technology in 2014, Egypt in 2016, and Pakistan did so in 2018 (Malsin, 2018; Ali & Jahangir, 2019).
It is highly likely that later adopters of this technology reviewed its performance in early adopters and decided upon their own adoption. We know from previous research that private companies can “influence the spread of state policies by encouraging the exchange of substantive and procedural information between states” (Garrett & Jansa, 2015: 391). Governments are required to understand details about the content of a technology and relevant institutional mechanisms to use it effectively. Corporations facilitate communication about these details. The existence of extensive links between Sandvine and authoritarian regimes, the similarities of how the tech has been used, and the sheer prominence of this company and its technology demonstrate a plausible argument for diffusion.
Using practice framework, we focus on ‘configurations of actors’ who are involved in enabling authoritarianism (Glasius & Michaelsen, 2018). In most instances, these actors are not states, but private companies (see Table 2). Moreover, contrary to perceived active role of Chinese companies, with the prime exception of Iran, it was Western tech companies that provided most of the high-tech surveillance and censorship capabilities to authoritarian regimes in the Muslim world including Turkey. These included, inter alia, US-Canadian company Sandvine, Israeli NSO Group, German FinFisher and Finland’s Nokia Networks.
Emulation
There’s evidence that authoritarian countries in the region like Turkey have emulated major powers, as well as each other, when it comes to internet censorship practices. Among other things, homophily of actors played important role as actors prefer to emulate models from reference groups of actors with whom they share similar cultural or social attributes (Elkins & Simmons, 2005). Political alignment and proximity among nations foster communication and the exchange of information (Rogers, 2010). We observe the influence of this dynamic between China and Russia, and political regimes in the Muslim world who are susceptible to authoritarian forms of governance to varying degrees.
Research noted that states tend to harmonize their policy approaches to align with the prevailing norms of the contemporary global community, irrespective of whether these specific policies or institutional frameworks align with local conditions or provide effective solutions. Notably, since most transfers originate from the core to the periphery, policy transfers to developing regions might be ill-suited and consequently ineffective. There’s evidence that adoption of city surveillance is driven by the desire for conformity rather than the search for effective solutions. China’s CCTV-smart city solutions are considered in the region to be “bold innovations” as they’ve gathered disproportionate attention from the developing countries across the world. However, there’s evidence that the countries adopt this technology because of their apparent promise rather than demonstrated success. For example, there has been a controversy about whether Huawei’s safe city infrastructure actually helps to reduce urban crime. In a dubious presentation in 2019, Huawei claimed that its safe city systems have been highly effective in reducing crime, increasing the case clearance rate, reducing emergency response time, and increasing citizen satisfaction. However, research by CSIS revealed that these numbers have been grossly exaggerated if not completely fabricated (Hillman & McCalpin, 2019).
Emulation and learning appear to be the major mechanisms through which such practices spread. First, by demonstrating the effectiveness of disinformation campaigns and propaganda – such as Russian interference in US presidential elections in 2016 and China’s propaganda around the Covid-19 pandemic – these countries have shown other regimes that similar tactics can be used to control their own populations and advance their interests (Jones, 2022). Second, China and Russia have acted as important sources of learning for authoritarian regimes. China has hosted thousands of foreign officials and members of media from BRI countries in various training programs on media and information management since 2017 (Freedom House, 2022). For example, in 2017, China’s Cyberspace Administration held cyberspace management seminars for officials from BRI countries. Chinese data-mining company iiMedia presented its media management platform which is advertised as offering comprehensive control of public opinion, including providing early-warnings for “negative” public opinions and helping guide the promotion of “positive energy” online (Laskai, 2019).
The governments in the Muslim world learned how to use the social media and other digital technologies for ‘flooding,’ which helps strengthen and legitimize their political regime. This is a part of a broader objective of shaping the information environment domestically and internationally (Mir et al., 2022). At home, these governments are attempting to mold their citizens’ conduct online. They hired social media consultants and influencers to do their propaganda. They learned how to flood the information space with propaganda narratives using troll farms and bots. For example, in Turkey, the AKP government created a massive troll army in response to the Gezi Protests in 2013. A 2016 study published by the cyber security company Norton Symantec shows that among countries in Europe, the Middle East and Africa, Turkey is the country with the most bot accounts on Twitter (Akis, 2022). In 2020, Twitter announced that it was suspending 7,340 fake accounts that had shared over 37 million tweets from its platform. Twitter attributed the network of accounts to the youth wing of the ruling AKP.
Through the aforementioned techniques, Turkey moved beyond strategies of “negative control” of the internet, in which the government attempt to block, censor, and suppress the flow of communication, and toward strategies of proactive co-optation in which social media serves regime objective. The opposite of internet freedom, therefore, is not necessarily internet censorship but a deceptive blend of control, co-option, and manipulation. As the public debate is seeded with such disinformation, this makes it hard for the governments’ opponents to convince their supporters and mobilize (Gunitsky, 2020).
Here, the practices appear to be a mixed bag of diffusion, convergence and even innovation on the part of some regional countries. There is some proof of learning on the part of the Turkish regime: Berat Albayrak’s emails reveal the government’s learning from the Gezi protests and intentional establishment of their own troll farms (Akis, 2022). Similarly, the Sisi regime learnt from the Arab Spring protests as well. While it is hard to find a smoking gun evidence of these regimes copying Russian or Chinese playbook, extensive links between some of these countries (such as Pakistan and Turkey), as well as between some of these countries and Russia/China (Turkey and Russia; China and Pakistan/Iran) brings some evidence of diffusion.
Cooperative Interdependence
Nested dolls depicting authoritarian and populist leaders Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and Recep Tayyip Erdogan displayed among souvenirs in Moscow on July 7, 2018. Photo: Shutterstock.
We have observed that a cooperative interdependence has been at play when it comes to the diffusion of internet censorship practices from China to developing countries. Countries like Turkey are facing serious economic challenges and are in dire need of foreign direct investment. When tracing China’s technology transfer in these countries, a common thread emerges that tie most of the Chinese engagement to various forms of aid, trade negotiations, or grants. Prominently, China uses its Digital Silk Road (DSR) concept under the banner of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) to push for adoption of its technological infrastructure and accompanying policies of surveillance and censorship in digital and urban environments (Hillman, 2021). For example, at the 2017 World Internet Conference in China, representatives from Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE signed a “Proposal for International Cooperation on the ‘One Belt, One Road’ Digital Economy,” an agreement to construct the DSR to improve digital connectivity and e-commerce cooperation (Laskai, 2019). The core components of the DSR initiative are smart (or “safe cities”), internet infrastructure, and mobile networks.
We do not argue that China is “forcing” these countries to adopt internet censorship practices. Rather, a cooperative interdependence works through changing incentive structures of BRI-connected states where financial incentives by China, coupled with technology transfer, promote China’s practical approach to managing the cyberspace as well. Indeed, BRI’s digital dimensions include many projects such as 5G networks, smart city projects, fiber optic cables, data centers, satellites, and devices that connect to these systems. In addition to having commercial value in terms of expanding China’s business of information technology, these far-reaching technologies have strategic benefit as they help the country achieve geoeconomic and geopolitical objectives that involve promotion of digital authoritarian practices and Chinese model of internet governance (Malena, 2021; Tang, 2020).
For example, Huawei’s growing influence in Turkey, and other regional countries such as Iran, Egypt, Pakistan, and particularly in the context of building their 5G infrastructure, is tied to these countries’ involvement in DSR projects. As mentioned above, all the abovementioned countries have signed agreements to cooperate with Huawei to build their 5G infrastructure. The latter is not merely an advanced technology, but also a vehicle of promoting an entire legal and institutional infrastructure for China. In 2017 the Standardization Administration of China (SAC) released the “BRI Connectivity and Standards Action Plan 2018-2020” which aims at promoting Chinese technical standards and improving related policies among BRI-recipient states across technologies including AI, 5G, and satellite navigation systems (Malena, 2021).
Cooperative interdependence such as loans, commercial diplomacy and other state initiatives are prominent mechanisms through which China spreads its urban surveillance practices. The Table 2 also demonstrates this process.
In the Muslim world, countries converged on importing China’s smart city platforms in recent years. A close collaboration between Chinese technology companies and authoritarian governments has led to the development of smart city infrastructures in multiple urban settings. Several Chinese companies have been at the forefront of this endeavor: Huawei, Hikvision, ZTE Corporation, Alibaba, Dahua Technology, and Tiandy (Yan, 2019). Huawei is a key source of diffusion of urban surveillance practices.
Huawei has established partnerships with major Turkish telecom companies, Turkcell and Vodafone TR, to implement smart city technologies in Samsun and Istanbul, respectively (KOTRA, 2021). Additionally, Turkey hosts one of Huawei’s 19 global Research and Development centers. In 2020, Turkcell became the first telecom operator outside China to adopt Huawei’s mobile app infrastructure, a system developed by Huawei in response to US sanctions that limited the use of certain Google software on Huawei devices. In 2022, Turk Telekom signed a contract with Huawei to build Turkey’s complete 5G network (Hurriyet, 2022). This infrastructure, known as Huawei Mobile Services (HMS), encompasses a suite of applications, cloud services, and an app store, which Huawei describes as “a collection of apps, services, device integrations, and cloud capabilities supporting its ecosystem” (Huawei, 2022).
Countries have also emulated China as the role model when it comes to urban surveillance practices. Indeed, China’s influence was highly discernible in the area of urban surveillance, where it has emerged as a role model and a key provider of high-tech tools (Germanò et al., 2023). To begin with, there are extensive linkages between sender (mostly China) and adopter countries in political and economic areas. These include the growing presence of China in regional economies, participation in China-dominated organizations such as the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), and cooperation with China on internet governance issues such as the statement in the UN by several countries. Moreover, China has long acted as a laboratory to observe the results of its unique blend of high-tech authoritarianism that combined extensive urban surveillance with control of the internet under the pretext of national security and sovereignty (see Mueller, 2020). The perceived success of Chinese officials in curbing crime, ensuring stability and efficient management of urban settings, including their draconian measures to control the spread of COVID-19, have elevated China as a role model to be emulated by many authoritarian countries, including those in the Muslim world (Barker, 2021).
The table below demonstrates China’s role in the diffusion of digital authoritarianism in the region including Turkey:
Conclusion
This research illustrates how Turkey’s adoption of digital authoritarian practices—encompassing restrictive legal frameworks, internet censorship, urban surveillance, and strategic digital information operations—has been propelled by a combination of learning from domestic unrest, emulating paradigms set by major authoritarian players like China and Russia, and capitalizing on cooperative interdependence forged through economic and strategic partnerships. Despite Turkey’s NATO membership and other Western affiliations, the government has selectively borrowed from authoritarian models, integrating advanced surveillance technologies and normative frameworks that restrict civic freedoms in the digital realm. In this ecosystem, private Western companies, operating with limited oversight, have facilitated the supply of censorship and surveillance tools, challenging conventional expectations that illiberal digital governance is primarily state-driven.
These findings highlight the urgent need to establish robust international cyber norms and regulations that delineate clear boundaries on digital governance, particularly in states with deep ties to the West. Multilateral fora, including the United Nations and the Council of Europe, can take the lead by defining the scope of “digital authoritarianism,” instituting transparent guidelines on surveillance exports, and ensuring that technology providers are held accountable for the potential misuse of their products. Greater emphasis on privacy protections and digital rights is equally critical, calling for comprehensive legislation within Turkey that shields citizens from unwarranted data collection. Support from the international community—through funding, awareness campaigns, and legal assistance—can empower local civil society groups to advocate for these rights, educate citizens on online privacy, and hold authorities to account.
A second imperative is responsible corporate behavior, where companies must be compelled—via legal and reputational mechanisms—to adhere to human rights standards and disclose how their technologies are deployed in countries like Turkey. Establishing an independent monitoring entity to track repressive digital practices, publicize violations, and elevate them to international organizations can reinforce such accountability. Equally important, regional and global cooperation on digital freedom can help counter Turkey’s authoritarian trajectory; governments committed to open societies should launch joint initiatives aimed at improving cybersecurity, combating disinformation, and expanding transparent governance models that respect human rights. Technical assistance and knowledge-sharing will be particularly valuable where Turkey’s domestic institutions seek alternatives to purely repressive tools.
Moreover, economic incentives can be used strategically to steer Turkey away from partnerships that reinforce authoritarian tendencies. By prioritizing trade relationships and development aid tied to ethical technology practices, major economic powers and international financial institutions can encourage Turkey to align more closely with suppliers committed to democratic values. Such an approach has the added benefit of opening the market to innovators developing privacy-enhancing products, thus providing viable alternatives to invasive surveillance systems. Finally, the use of strategic diplomatic channels remains a powerful lever. Dialogue within NATO, discussions at the European Union level, and broader diplomatic engagements allow Turkey’s partners to advocate for transparent, responsible digital practices. Joint resolutions or multilateral condemnations of authoritarian behaviors can further raise the political costs of continued repression.
Taken together, these initiatives underscore that countering digital authoritarianism in Turkey requires a proactive, holistic strategy. While local factors—such as domestic protest movements and longstanding elite interests—play a crucial role, the role of international actors and private corporations is equally significant. Each dimension, whether it be legal reform, corporate accountability, economic leverage, or diplomatic pressure, offers a piece of the puzzle. Coordinated action that weaves these elements into a cohesive approach is essential not only for Turkey but for the broader effort to preserve the open, rights-respecting nature of the global digital landscape. By challenging the unchecked diffusion of repressive technologies and policies, the international community can mitigate the risks posed by an ever-expanding authoritarian playbook and ensure that the internet remains a domain of freedom and democratic possibility.
Funding:This work was supported by Australian Research Council [Grant Number DP230100257]; Gerda Henkel Foundation [Grant Number AZ 01/TG/21]; Australian Research Council [Grant Number DP220100829].
Authors
Ihsan Yilmaz is Deputy Director (Research Development) of the Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation (ADI) at Deakin University, where he also serves as Chair in Islamic Studies and Research Professor of Political Science and International Relations. He previously held academic positions at the Universities of Oxford and London and has a strong track record of leading multi-site international research projects. His work at Deakin has been supported by major funding bodies, including the Australian Research Council (ARC), the Department of Veterans’ Affairs, the Victorian Government, and the Gerda Henkel Foundation.
(*) Ali Mamouri is a scholar and journalist specializing in political philosophy and theology. He is currently a Research Fellow at the Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation at Deakin University. With an academic background, Dr. Mamouri has held teaching positions at the University of Sydney, the University of Tehran, and Al-Mustansiriyah University, as well as other institutions in Iran and Iraq. He has also taught at the Qom and Najaf religious seminaries. From 2020 to 2022, he served as a Strategic Communications Advisor to the Iraqi Prime Minister, providing expertise on regional political dynamics. Dr. Mamouri also has an extensive career in journalism. From 2016 to 2023, he was the editor of Iraq Pulse at Al-Monitor, covering key political and religious developments in the Middle East. His work has been featured in BBC, ABC, The Conversation, Al-Monitor, and Al-Iraqia State Media, among other leading media platforms. As a respected policy analyst, his notable works include “The Dueling Ayatollahs: Khamenei, Sistani, and the Fight for the Soul of Shiite Islam” (Al-Monitor) and “Shia Leadership After Sistani” (Washington Institute). Beyond academia and journalism, Dr. Mamouri provides consultation to public and private organizations on Middle Eastern affairs. He has published several works in Arabic and Farsi, including a book on the political philosophy of Muhammad Baqir Al-Sadr and research on political Salafism. Additionally, he has contributed to The Great Islamic Encyclopedia and other major Islamic encyclopedias.
Nicholas Morieson is a Research Fellow at the Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation, Deakin University. He was previously a Lecturer at the Australian Catholic University in Melbourne. His research interests include populism, religious nationalism, civilizational politics, intergroup relations, and the intersection of religion and political identity.
(**) MuhammadOmer is a PhD student in political science at the Deakin University. His PhD is examining the causes, ideological foundations, and the discursive construction of multiple populisms in a single polity (Pakistan). His other research interests include transnational Islam, religious extremism, and vernacular security. He previously completed his bachelor’s in politics and history from the University of East Anglia, UK, and master’s in political science from the Vrije University Amsterdam.
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Please cite as: Yilmaz, Ihsan; Mamouri, Ali; Akbarzadeh, Shahram & Omer, Muhammad. (2025). “Authoritarian Diffusion in the Cyberspace: How Egypt Learns, Emulates, and Cooperates in Digital Authoritarianism.” European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). May 9, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/rp0097
Egypt has emerged as a key adopter and regional diffuser of digital authoritarian practices. Once limited by weak digital infrastructure, the Sisi regime has transformed the country into a technologically repressive state through sweeping legal reforms, censorship mechanisms, and expansive surveillance networks. Drawing heavily from the models of China and Russia—particularly in urban monitoring and information control—Egypt actively emulates their approaches. Crucially, both Chinese and Western technology firms have facilitated this transformation, revealing a broader pattern of global complicity. This report demonstrates how Egypt’s trajectory illustrates the transnational diffusion of digital authoritarianism through mechanisms of learning, emulation, and interdependence—and offers a stark warning to democracies about the rising threat of state-enabled digital repression.
By Ihsan Yilmaz, Ali Mamouri*, Shahram Akbarzadeh**, Muhammad Omer***
Executive Summary
This report examines the rise and entrenchment of digital authoritarianism in Egypt, spotlighting how the regime systematically reclaims and militarizes the digital space to suppress dissent and erode democratic freedoms. Digital authoritarianism in Egypt spans four key domains: restrictive legal frameworks, internet censorship, urban surveillance, and strategic digital information operations (SDIOs).
Drawing on a wide array of sources—including academic literature, human rights reports, institutional data, and credible news coverage—the report demonstrates how the Egyptian government has aggressively expanded its control over digital life. This control includes deep surveillance tactics, the criminalization of online expression, and state-sponsored manipulation of digital discourse, all contributing to the shrinking of civic space and the violation of fundamental rights to privacy and free speech.
The regime employs advanced tools such as Deep Packet Inspection (DPI), widespread website blocking, and targeted internet shutdowns to neutralize opposition. These repressive tactics are reinforced by an expansive legal arsenal that frames digital expression as a threat to national security—penalizing dissent, limiting VPN use, and compelling tech companies to align with government mandates.
At the urban level, AI-driven CCTV networks and Smart City initiatives—often developed in partnership with Chinese and Western firms—create a pervasive surveillance infrastructure, enabling real-time monitoring of public behaviour. Meanwhile, through coordinated SDIO campaigns, the regime floods social media and state-aligned platforms with pro-government narratives, systematically silencing alternative viewpoints. These operations blend defensive strategies (legitimizing the regime and quelling criticism) with offensive disinformation that delegitimizes opposition groups.
The diffusion of these practices is not solely domestically engineered. Egypt’s digital authoritarian model is transnational in character, built through mechanisms of learning, emulation, and technological dependence. China has emerged as a central enabler, exporting both surveillance infrastructure and governance models. Yet, Western corporations—including Sandvine, NSO Group, FinFisher, and Nokia Networks—have also contributed significantly, supplying critical technologies that bolster Egypt’s repressive digital architecture, often with little regard for ethical implications.
Egypt’s model of digital control illustrates a dangerous global trend: the normalization and globalization of digital authoritarianism, where regimes exploit emerging technologies and international complicity to entrench power, silence dissent, and undermine democratic norms.
Recommendations
To effectively counter the growing threat of digital authoritarianism in Egypt and beyond, a comprehensive, multi-pronged strategy must be adopted. The following recommendations highlight key interventions to safeguard digital freedoms, enhance democratic resilience, and hold both states and corporations accountable:
1. Strengthen International Cyber Norms and Regulatory Frameworks: Establish binding international standards and protocols to govern the use of digital technologies by states. These norms must explicitly prohibit mass surveillance, politically motivated internet shutdowns, and the deployment of spyware against civilians. Multilateral organizations—such as the United Nations, the European Union, and regional bodies—must play a central role in enforcing these norms through treaties, sanctions, and export control regimes that restrict the transfer of surveillance technologies to authoritarian regimes.
2. Defend Digital Rights and Data Privacy at the National and Global Levels:Push for robust data protection legislation that empowers individuals and protects them from arbitrary state surveillance. Promote digital literacy campaigns and citizen awareness programs to strengthen public understanding of online rights and safety. Support grassroots civil society organizations, independent media, and digital rights defenders who expose abuses and advocate for open, secure, and rights-respecting digital environments.
3. Enforce Corporate Accountability and Ethical Tech Governance: Hold technology firms—both domestic and transnational—legally and morally accountable for their role in enabling repression. Establish international watchdog bodies to investigate, name-and-shame, and penalize companies complicit in human rights violations through the export or maintenance of surveillance technologies. Implement mandatory human rights impact assessments for all technology exports to high-risk regimes and enhance supply chain transparency in the tech sector.
4. Promote Strategic International Collaboration to Safeguard Digital Democracy: Strengthen multilateral coalitions of democracies to share intelligence, technological tools, and policy approaches for combating disinformation, propaganda, and transnational repression. Support cross-border investigations into Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs) and develop joint early warning systems to detect digital repression tactics. Extend technical and legal support to countries resisting authoritarian encroachment into their digital spheres.
5. Leverage Economic Incentives to Deter Authoritarian Partnerships: Use trade agreements, investment flows, and development aid as tools to condition engagement with states on the basis of their digital human rights records. Encourage private and public institutions to divest from companies involved in digital repression and prioritize investment in technologies that strengthen democratic institutions, secure communications, and civil society networks.
6. Deploy Diplomatic and Legal Instruments to Challenge Repression:Utilize bilateral and multilateral diplomacy to pressure authoritarian regimes to reform their surveillance laws and practices. Sponsor UN resolutions, global forums, and high-level summits that spotlight digital repression and mobilize international consensus. Support international legal actions against regimes and actors who violate digital human rights, using forums such as the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and regional human rights courts.
7. Build Resilience Through Innovation and Empowerment: Invest in the development of privacy-preserving technologies, secure communication platforms, and censorship circumvention tools. Support the creation of local digital infrastructures that resist surveillance, especially in vulnerable democracies. Back innovation ecosystems that empower civic tech, independent media, and digital rights advocacy to thrive even under authoritarian pressure.
Addressing digital authoritarianism requires more than reactive measures—it demands proactive, coordinated, and sustained global action. The recommendations above provide a roadmap for governments, international institutions, civil society, and the private sector to reclaim the digital domain as a space of freedom, accountability, and democratic possibility.
Photo: Dreamstime.
Introduction
In recent years, scholars have increasingly focused on the diffusion of authoritarianism (Ambrosio, 2010; Bank, 2017), a process where authoritarian institutions, practices, policies, strategies, rhetorical frames, and norms spread from one regime to another (Ambrosio & Tolstrup, 2019). This phenomenon is particularly pronounced in the Middle East and Muslim World, where many countries exhibit authoritarian governance (Durac & Cavatorta, 2022; Yenigun, 2021; Stepan et al., 2018; Ahmed et al., 2023; Akbarzadeh et al., 2024; Yilmaz et al., 2024).
The advent of the internet and social media in the developing world in the late 2000s significantly empowered civil society and individual activists in these regions, creating an equalizing power between the state and society (Breuer, 2012; Ruijgrok, 2017). The extensive use of these technologies by protesters led many to consider them as “liberation technology,” facilitating anti-government movements across non-democratic countries (Diamond & Plattner, 2012; Ziccardi, 2012).
Initially, authoritarian governments struggled to control the digital sphere due to a lack of technical expertise and digital infrastructure. They often resorted to internet shutdowns, as seen in Egypt during the Arab Spring 2011 protests (Cattle, 2015). However, as digital technologies evolved, so did the capabilities of authoritarian regimes. Therefore, despite the internet’s potential as a tool for liberation, its use by authoritarian regimes to disseminate propaganda, conduct surveillance, and control information has led to a new form of authoritarianism (Polyakova, 2019).
This transformation is driven by advancements in artificial intelligence (AI), big data, and the widespread use of the internet, which have enabled unprecedented levels of surveillance and control. As Wael Ghonim, an Egyptian activist, has reminded us: “The Arab Spring revealed social media’s greatest potential, but it also exposed its greatest shortcomings. The same tool that united [people] to topple dictators eventually tore [us] apart through echo-chamber polarization, misinformation, toxic hate speech” (Gardels, 2019).
Such widespread adoption of digital control measures has led to the emergence of “digital authoritarianism” literature (Polyakova & Meserole, 2019; Dragu & Lupu, 2021; Khalil, 2020; Lilkov, 2020; Mare, 2020; Feldstein, 2019; Ahmed et al., 2023; Akbarzadeh et al., 2024; Yilmaz et al., 2024). This literature posits that as regimes leverage AI and other digital tools to monitor and control dissent, the need for policymakers and civil society organizations to counter these practices has become critical. The pessimism surrounding the potential of modern technology to undermine democracy is growing, with concerns about misinformation, data collection, surveillance, spread of conspiracy theories and propagation of authoritarian governance models (Radavoi, 2019; Stone et al., 2016; Bostrom, 2014; Helbing et al., 2019; Damnjanović, 2015; Yilmaz et al., 2025; Yilmaz & Shakil 2025). In a poll conducted by Pew, almost half of participants believed that the “use of [modern] technology will mostly weaken core aspects of democracy and democratic representation in the next decade” (Anderson, 2020).
Extant literature mainly focuses on countries such as China and Russia and their technology companies facilitating and promoting digital authoritarian practices (Khalil, 2020; Taylor, 2022; Zhang, Alon, & Lattemann, 2020). Moreover, the literature has treated policies, norms, and technological tools in a general manner as phenomena analysing authoritarian regimes’ use of tools like filtering and digital surveillance (Hellmeier, 2016; Xu, 2021) and examining policies governing the internet (Kerr, 2018). However, policies, norms, and technologies cannot be separated as they are usually interlinked among government entities, private companies, and international organizations across global networks (Dragu & Lupu, 2021). Therefore, as Adler and Pouliot (2011: 5) stated, practices are “patterned actions that are embedded in particular organized contexts,” this study chose a more holistic analysis, investigating norms, policies, and technologies employed by governments and non-state entities in an integrated manner.
This report examines the digital authoritarian practices in Egypt (see Akbarzadeh et al., 2025) and the diffusion of these practices by investigating the norms, policies, and technologies employed by the Egyptian government. What we mean by diffusion is the process that Gilardi (2012: 454) describes as what “leads to the pattern of adoption, not the fact that at the end of the period, all (or many) countries have adopted the policy.” As such, diffusion refers to the use of digital technologies by authoritarian regimes to surveil, repress, and manipulate populations (Feldstein, 2021). Therefore, diffusion does not necessarily require an absolute convergence of practices; rather, an increase in policy similarity across countries generally follows diffusion processes (Gilardi, 2010; 2012), which we demonstrate here. Egypt, similar to other authoritarian regimes, utilize digital technology—often sourced from abroad, including from Western countries—such as the internet, social media, and artificial intelligence to maintain control and suppress dissent.
We aim to understand how these practices spread and what can be done to counter them. Egypt, like other authoritarian regimes, have become adept at using sophisticated digital tools to monitor and control the internet rather than simply shutting it down. Technologies like DPI, “a type of data processing that looks in detail at the contents of the data being sent, and re-routes it accordingly” (Geere, 2012), allow for comprehensive network analysis and can be used for digital eavesdropping, internet censorship, and data theft (Bendrath & Mueller, 2011). This report will explore these dynamics in detail, providing a comprehensive analysis of the diffusion of digital authoritarianism in Egypt.
Data Analysis of the Digital Space in Egypt
Egypt, with a total population of 116 million by mid-2024 and a USD476.7 billion GDP as of 2022 (Worldometer, 2024), is considered one of the most important countries in the Middle East and has a wide influence on the Arab world. It was among the first countries to witness the Arab Spring Movement and go through dramatic changes in the political system. The internet played a significant role in this period and also in the aftermath of the military’s cope in 2013. The table below shows the rise of internet usage in Egypt.
The brief political openings in the late 2000s and the early 2010s were fuelled by the internet and social media’s empowerment of social mobilization and the authoritarian regimes’ inability to control the digital sphere as they lacked technical expertise and digital infrastructure to rein in on the internet (Cattle, 2015). However, as the use of the internet was on the rise in Egypt, the government’s efforts to control the digital space and impose more surveillance on people have been increasingly on the rise as well. Freedom House has reported a significant rise of government control on digital space in Egypt. The Freedom House Index shows that, on average, internet freedom has declined by about 40% in Egypt.
Freedom House’s World Index shows that Egypt has experienced declines in freedom of expression and belief, associational and organizational rights, the rule of law, and personal autonomy and individual rights (Freedom House, 2022). As a result, Egypt scored 26 on a scale of 0 (least free) to 100 (most free) in 2020, according to Freedom House (2021).
Tracing the pattern of practising digital authoritarianism in the world indicates that China and Russia play a significant role in leading this conduct, setting an effective example for authoritarian regimes in the Middle East, including Egypt, to follow the same pathway. The table in Figure 4 shows how Egypt followed the pathway of Chinese and Russian legislation in imposing digital authoritarianism.
The diffusion of digital authoritarian practice in Egypt is not limited to China. Many Western companies have contributed to providing the Egyptian government with sufficient technologies to impose control on digital space. The table in Figure 5 provides details about the source of technologies used in Egypt.
Digital Authoritarian Strategies, Policies, andPractices
In this section, we explore a variety of strategies and policies the Egyptian government has adopted to impose a digital authoritarian regime in the country. The Egyptian government worked on four domains: restrictive legal frameworks, internet censorship, urban surveillance, and SDIOs. By leveraging these four domains, the Egyptian government has constructed a comprehensive system of digital authoritarianism. This system not only fortifies its grip on power but also serves as a blueprint for other authoritarian regimes seeking to exploit digital technologies to suppress dissent and maintain control.
Restrictive Legal Frameworks
Digital authoritarian regimes implement four main types of legal restrictions, and examples of all of these can be found in Egypt. First, laws that mandate internet service providers to establish systems for real-time monitoring and recording of traffic on their networks. This enables continuous surveillance of online activities. Second, legal frameworks that penalize online speech under the guise of protecting national identity, culture, and preventing defamation. This often results in the suppression of dissenting opinions and freedom of expression. Third, VPN Restrictions, which follow the lead of countries like China and Russia to ban or restrict the use of Virtual Private Networks (VPNs). While VPNs are technically legal in Egypt, many VPN servers and websites are blocked, hindering their practical use. Fourth, control over social media companies in various methods. Although Western social media sites remain accessible in Egypt, the government has introduced laws that increase its control over the content shared on these platforms. This is achieved by threatening social media companies with bandwidth restrictions and outright bans if they fail to comply with government requests. Moreover, Egypt’s 2018 Cybercrime Law requires foreign companies handling personal data within the country to designate a representative located in Egypt (Fatafta, 2020).
Despite the Egyptian Constitution guaranteeing freedom of the internet to some extent (for example, Articles 57, 68, 71, and 72), by prohibiting blocking websites, surveilling digital space, and harassing and prosecuting journalists and activists, the authorities continued to develop legislation in this direction and implement it on a large scale. Multiple legislations have been passed and applied to reach above goals.
The “cybercrime law” in Egypt, signed by President Sisi in 2018, legalizes and reinforces the existing censorship and blocking of websites (Freedom House, 2021). The new law treats all social media accounts with more than 5,000 followers as “media outlets,” making them eligible for censorship (RSF, 2018). The laws also mandated internet service providers to establish a system allowing real-time monitoring and recording of traffic on their networks (Privacy International, 2019). The cybercrime law criminalizes any form of speech that is against ‘national security’ which is defined so broadly that it covers “all that is related to the independence, stability, and security of the homeland and its unity and territorial integrity” and anything to do with the president’s office and all defence and security departments. The law permits the search of citizens’ personal devices and social media accounts can be blocked without judicial authorization, ostensibly for disseminating “false” information or inciting unlawful activities (Manshurat, 2018). Article 2 mandates that service providers retain and store records of their information systems, including all user-related data, for a period of 180 days. This information must be made available to any government agency upon request. Article 7 outlines the procedure for blocking websites that publish content deemed threatening to national security or detrimental to the country’s security or economy. Article 9 grants the Public Prosecutor the authority to issue travel bans and bring individuals accused of violating Article 7 before the Criminal Court.
The cybercrime law has led to increased penalties and harassment of journalists and activists on social media platforms (Freedom House, 2022). Consequently, there is minimal political opposition in Egypt, as expressing dissenting views on social media can lead to criminal prosecution and harsh punishments. Furthermore, there are significant restrictions and harassment of civil liberties, including freedom of expression, assembly, and the press. Security forces also engage in widespread violations against marginalized groups, including homosexuals and minorities, under the guise of national security concerns.
The Anti-Terrorism Law, passed in 2015, encompasses broad forms of criminalization and grants extensive powers to address electronic activities, including the arrest of journalists and activists, digital surveillance, and the closure and blocking of websites (Manshurat, 2020). Article 49 of this law empowers the Public Prosecution or relevant investigative authority to halt or block websites specified in Article 29 or any other aspect of online usage outlined in the legislation, as well as to confiscate devices and equipment used in the commission of such offenses. For instance, the Cairo Court of Urgent Matters issued an order to seize and freezethe assets, accounts, and properties of “Mustafa Mukhtar Mohamed Saqr,” the president of “Business News,” the company that owns the two Daily News Egypt websites.
Moreover, at the end of 2022, the Telecom Law amendments were made to expand telecommunication equipment restrictions (Rezk & Hashish, 2023). Now, not only is the importation, manufacturing, assembly of such equipment prohibited without a permit, but also possession, use, operation, installation, or marketing is prohibited without obtaining permission from relevant authorities like the NTRA (The National Telecommunications Regulatory Authority) and national security agencies. The penalty for violating these requirements has been increased to a fine ranging from 2 million to 5 million Egyptian pounds.
Internet Censorship
Photo: Dreamstime.
According to Access Now, a leading internet research organization, at least 182 internet shutdowns occurred in 34 countries in 2021 (Access Now, 2022). The Mubarak regime famously switched off the country’s internet during the mass protests in Cairo in January 2011. In recent years, however, internet shutdowns have been rare in Egypt. In 2018, the Egyptian Armed Forces ordered a region-wide shutdown of internet and telecommunication services in the Sinai Peninsula and adjacent areas during the army’s military campaign against ISIS-affiliated insurgents in the region (SMEX, 2018). One reason behind the reduction of internet shutdowns is that they are costly as they affect the delivery of essential public and private services and have been dubbed the Dictator’s Digital Dilemma (Hussain, Howard & Agarwal, 2011). Therefore, even when it is practised, the shutdown is limited to a certain location and typically lasts only a few days. According to Access Now (Hernández et al., 2023), no internet shutdown occurred in Egypt in 2021.
Common methods of censorship, which Deibert et al. (2010) highlighted as “first generation” are filtering and site blocking, which became more common in the late 2000s. IP blocking/filtering and DNS tampering are the common methods of filtering. IP filtering is used to block or filter objectionable content by restricting access to specific IP addresses. Freedom House reported in 2022 that Egypt was a not-free country in relation to the use of digital technologies, ranking it 27 out of 100, identifying three major issues: obstacles to access, limits to contents, and violation of users’ rights (Freedom House, 2022).
Since the imposition of a “state of emergency” in Egypt in 2017 (Atlantic Council, 2019), which directly granted the authorities the power to impose censorship and monitor all forms of online communication, Egypt blocked over 500 websites (AFTE Egypt, 2020). This includes independent news websites that publish articles criticising the Egyptian government, such as Mada Masr, Al-Manassa and Daily News Egypt, in addition to international news websites, such as Al-Jazeera, Al-Arabiya, and Huffington Post Arabic. The blocking also included well-known Egyptian blogs that had previously warned since Sisi took power that he was rebuilding an authoritarian regime. The banned blogs included Fahmi Huwaidi’s blog (including his column in Shorouk News), Jawdell’s blog, Manal’s blog, Alaa’s blog, Bahia’s blog, and Ahmed Gamal Ziada’s personal blog. Manal and Alaa had previously won awards (Welle, 2005) from Reporters Without Borders. The blocking expands websites that provide content related to human rights and civil society, such as the website of Reporters Without Borders, the Arabic Network for Human Rights Information (ANHRI), the Egyptian Commission for Rights and Freedoms, the Journalists Against Torture Observatory, and the website of Human Rights Watch, one day after the organisation released a report documenting the systematic use of torture in prisons in September 2017. The blocking was not limited to news sites only but also went on to block 261 VPN and proxy sites, including “Tunnelbear,” “CyberGhost,” “HotspotShield,” and messaging application Signal.
Censorship sometimes occurs via prosecution measures, which come in conjunction with punishing the authors or contributors. Egyptian authorities severely undermined media freedom and the right to access information and punished the publication of opinions on news sites and social media posts. For example, in February 2023, the Public Prosecution referred three journalists (Welle, 2023) from Mada Masr to trial in a case related to publishing a report alleging corruption in the pro-Sisi “Nation’s Future Party,” and in June, the authorities blocked two independent news websites, “Egypt 360” and “The Fourth Estate” (Access Now, 2023). In September 2023, security forces arrested two individuals from their homes in Menoufia and Mansoura governorates after they published tweets on the “X” website, supporting Tantawi and democratic change. In October 2023, the Supreme Council for Media Regulation referred workers (“x.com,” n.d.) at the independent media website “Mada Masr” to the prosecution, with the charge of “practising media activities without a license” and “spreading false news without verifying its sources.”
Authoritarian regimes have tended to use more subtle and insidious forms of censorship, which also use surveillance techniques and rely on quasi-democratic legal mechanisms (Deibert & Rohozinski, 2010). This has included using DPI surveillance technology acquired from Western and Chinese companies, which have become essential sources of diffusion of authoritarian practices. Companies such as Sandvine Corporation, a US-Canadian company, have provided tech to over a dozen countries, including Egypt. DPI is “a type of data processing that looks in detail at the contents of the data being sent and re-routes it accordingly” (Geere, 2012). DPI inspects the data being sent over a network and may take various forms of action, such as logging the content and alerting, as well as blocking or rerouting the traffic. DPI allows comprehensive network analysis. While it can be used for innocuous purposes, such as checking the content for viruses and ensuring the correct supply of content, it can also be used for digital eavesdropping, internet censorship, and even stealing sensitive information (Bendrath & Mueller, 2011).
Urban Surveillance
In addition to digital monitoring, the government has significantly expanded its surveillance capabilities within urban areas. Advanced surveillance systems, including extensive CCTV networks equipped with facial recognition technology, have been deployed. These systems are integrated with AI-powered analytics capable of tracking and identifying individuals, monitoring public gatherings, and analysing behavioural patterns. This pervasive surveillance infrastructure not only deters public dissent but also enables the rapid identification and apprehension of activists and protesters.
Egypt has employed extensive surveillance technologies such as Smart City/Safe City platforms, facial recognition systems, and smart policing, as highlighted in the AI Global Surveillance (AIGS) Index. These technologies have been instrumental in suppressing democratic movements (Wheeler, 2017). During the 2010s, Egypt witnessed increased internet technology adoption and a concurrent decline in democratic practices. Data from the International Telecommunication Union (ITU) indicates a dramatic rise in internet usage in Egypt since 2019, which led the Egyptian government to more investment in urban surveillance.
The aforementioned DPI technology acquired from the American company Sandvine/Procera Networks enabled the Egyptian government to monitor citizens’ internet activities, hack accounts, and reroute internet traffic. This technology allows Telecom Egypt to spy on users and block human rights and political content (Marczak et al., 2018). Additionally, Egypt’s General Intelligence Service has conducted sophisticated cyber-spying operations on opposition and civil society activists by installing software on their phones, granting access to files, emails, GPS coordinates, and contact lists (Bergman, 2019).
Safe or smart cities are another policy that Egypt is undertaking in order to increase its urban surveillance capabilities. The “Smart” concept generally involves gathering large amounts of data to enhance various city functions. This can include optimizing the use of utilities and other services, reducing traffic congestion and pollution, and ultimately empowering both public authorities and residents. According to a Huawei report, “Safe cities are an essential pillar supporting the future development of smart cities” (Hillman & McCalpin, 2019). These cities deploy high-speed communication networks, sensors, and mobile apps to enhance mobility, connectivity, energy efficiency, service delivery, and overall resident welfare (Hong, 2022). Becoming “smart” typically involves harnessing troves of data to optimize city functions—from more efficient use of utilities and other services to reducing traffic congestion and pollution—all with a view to empowering public authorities and residents (Muggah, 2021). With the advance of CCTV and AI technology, urban surveillance capabilities have grown exponentially over the past ten years. Dubbed “safe” or “smart” cities, these urban surveillance projects are “mainly concerned with automating the policing of society using video cameras and other digital technologies to monitor and diagnose suspicious behaviour” (Kynge et al., 2021).
Egypt’s most significant smart city project under the Sisi government is the New Administrative Capital (NAC) east of Cairo (Al-Hathloul, 2022). The NAC is designed with a full suite of smart/safe city solutions, including 6,000 CCTV cameras and a surveillance system by American company Honeywell, which monitors crowds, traffic congestion, theft, and suspicious activities and triggers automated alarms during emergencies (Mourad & Lewis, 2021). Honeywell also has contracts for Saudi Arabia’s NEOM megaproject. Huawei’s presence in Egypt has also been growing. In 2018, Huawei signed a memorandum with Telecom Egypt to establish a $5 million data centre for a cloud computing network, aiming to develop one of the five largest cloud networks globally and the first in MENA. Egypt and Huawei are also negotiating to bring Huawei’s 5G infrastructure to the country (Blaubach, 2021). The surveillance infrastructure includes Schneider Electric’s EcoStruxure platform, which connects various systems for optimization and sustainability (Egypt Today, 2022).
The development of smart city infrastructures has sparked controversies, with critics arguing that these technologies enable pervasive collection, retention, and misuse of personal data by law enforcement and private companies. The NAC, which is being built by China State Construction Engineering Corporation (CSCEC) (Al-Hathloul, 2022), has been driven by an attempt by the authoritarian Sisi government to isolate and protect itself from a revolutionary scenario that befell the Mubarak regime in 2011. By moving government offices 50 km away from central Cairo and Tahrir Square, the regime aims to ensure its structures are safeguarded even during unrest. All the surveillance capabilities in the NAC will be further helpful in protecting the regime (see Middle East Monitor, 2021; Bergman & Walsh, 2021; Menshawy, 2021).
Strategic Digital Information Operations (SDIOs)
Banners supporting Egyptian President Abdel-Fattah El-Sisi’s bid for a second term during the presidential elections, displayed along the crowded Al Moez Street in the Gamalia district of Cairo, Egypt, on March 25, 2018. Photo: Halit Sadik.
The Egyptian government employs a sophisticated network of SDIOs. SDIOs refer to “efforts by state and non-state actors to manipulate public opinion as well as individual and collective emotions by using digital technologies to change how people relate and respond to events in the world” (Yilmaz et al., 2023). Thus, the Egyptian government does not only rely on randomized acts of internet shutdowns but carefully manipulates and alters the information environment to serve its motives.
Egypt has begun to move beyond strategies of ‘negative control’ of the internet, in which regimes attempt to block, censor, and suppress the flow of communication and toward strategies of proactive co-optation in which social media serves regime objectives. The opposite of internet freedom, therefore, is not necessarily internet censorship but a deceptive blend of control, co-option, and manipulation. Scholars call this phenomenon ‘flooding’ as the governments try to ‘flood’ the informational space with false, distracting or otherwise worthless pieces of information (Roberts, 2018; Mir et al., 2022). As the public debate is seeded with such disinformation, this makes it hard for the governments’ opponents to convince their supporters and mobilize.
The Egyptian government employs a robust propaganda machine to shape public perception and maintain control over the narrative. This involves the strategic use of state-controlled media, social media platforms, and online influencers to disseminate pro-regime content and discredit opposition. The regime propagates conspiracy theories that portray political dissenters as foreign agents or terrorists, thereby justifying its repressive measures. As Akbarzadeh et al. (2025) demonstrates, “President Abdul Fattah al-Sisi frequently talks about conspiracies against the Arab World and Egypt in particular, thanking Egyptians who stood against these conspiracies and prevented the country from falling in the direction of Iraq, Syria, and Libya, all that were intervened by the US and other Western allies.” In the same way “Sisi used the consequences of the Western role in Iraq, Syria, and Libya as a method to promote his rule in Egypt and scare Egyptians from seeking change in their country, which would lead them to get trapped in conspiracies undertaken in other Middle Eastern countries” (Akbarzadeh et al., 2025).
Egyptian officials commonly instil fear among citizens to ensure their loyalty to the current government, often by amplifying concerns about potential conspiracies against the nation. This rhetoric tends to escalate as elections approach (Akbarzadeh et al., 2025). State-run TV channels, newspapers, and online portals play a crucial role in this information warfare, ensuring that the regime’s message reaches a broad audience. The Sisi regime, for example, employs troll armies to be used in political astroturfing operations. In 2020, Twitter banned over 9,000 accounts that were spreading misleading information. Another report found that the Sisi government used automated/bot accounts to promote its popular hashtags on Twitter (DFRLab, 2023).
The regime usually employs defensive and offensive approaches in this regard. The dual strategy, seamlessly blending defensive and offensive tactics, creates a narrative that reinforces the regime’s image and marginalizes any alternatives, fostering an environment of public trust and unity under the existing leadership.
Defensively, it seeks to portray the regime as a legitimate national authority, emphasising its adherence to the nation’s interests and well-being in a way that no legitimate alternative is imaginable. In these narratives, government leaders are portrayed as heroic figures with exceptional qualities, and the system is presented as flawless and well-suited to the country’s needs. Like many examples Igor Golomstock provided in his book Totalitarian Art (1990), Egyptian propaganda presents the head of state as the father of the nation, and any attempt to criticise him or his authority is introduced as a betrayal to Egypt. Egyptian TV channels frequently host Arab leaders praising Sisi and portraying him as the savour of Egypt and the Arab nation.
On the offensive front, the propaganda machine works to discredit any alternative to the current regime. Opposition figures or movements are subjected to character assassinations and labelled as traitors, criminals, or foreign agents. Conspiracy theories are propagated, linking opposition figures to nefarious plots or foreign interference, thereby undermining the credibility of opposing narratives. Additionally, the propaganda machine manipulates national unity sentiments to marginalise dissent, presenting the regime as a unifying force and framing opposition as divisive threats to the country’s unity. This comprehensive approach aims to fortify public support for the current regime while systematically diminishing the credibility of dissenting voices. In conjunction with the magnification and glorification of the president’s image, extensive work has been done to demonise the image of the opposition as a whole, generalising all under the unsightly titles of “traitors” cooperating with foreign enemies, “terrorism,” “riot” and “suspicious calls,” slamming all attempts of demonstrations or criticising the government.
One significant rationale lies in the inherent lack of genuine legitimacy, coupled with a substantial disconnect between the state and society. Consequently, the fabrication of imaginary adversaries becomes a tool for fostering national unity and identity under the regime’s rule. A parallel goal of this strategy is the cultivation of a cult of leadership. Totalitarian regimes craft an image of leaders as defenders against external enemies, fostering a cult of personality that solidifies their control over the narrative and the populace. This narrative, in turn, rallies support for the militarization of both the state and society. Moreover, the identification of enemies becomes a rationale for increased militarization and defence spending. Totalitarian regimes leverage perceived external threats to justify allocating resources to the military, enhancing capabilities, and maintaining control over the security apparatus. Consequently, these regimes effectively maintain fear and control over the population. Ultimately, the perpetual portrayal of an external threat or identification of internal enemies sustains a climate of fear among citizens, discouraging challenges to the regime.
In authoritarian regimes, conspiracy theories play a crucial role in consolidating power by channelling public discontent toward perceived external or internal threats. These narratives function as propaganda tools, allowing governments to justify repression, delegitimize critics, and deflect attention from governance failures. Unlike in democratic contexts, where conspiracy theories are often propagated by fringe actors, authoritarian regimes institutionalize them, presenting them as official truths that shape political realities. A key tactic involves accusing dissidents of affiliations with groups like the Muslim Brotherhood to suppress freedom of speech, protest, and independent media. By framing opposition figures as existential threats to national unity, regimes cultivate public trust and reinforce their own legitimacy while silencing alternative voices (Akbarzadeh et al., 2025).
Collectively, the sophisticated implementation of SDIOs manipulate feelings of national unity to marginalise the opposition, presenting the regime as a unifying force and framing the opposition as a divisive threat to the country’s unity. This comprehensive approach aims to strengthen popular support for the current regime while systematically diminishing the credibility of opposition voices. The dual strategy, which seamlessly blends defensive and offensive tactics, creates a narrative that enhances the regime’s image and marginalises any alternatives, fostering an environment of public trust and unity under the current leadership.
Diffusion of Authoritarian Practices
Photo: Dreamstime.
Diffusion mechanisms are systematic sets of statements that provide a plausible explanation of how policy decisions in one country are influenced by prior policy choices made in other countries (Braun & Gilardi, 2006; 299). The literature on this topic often highlights areas of convergence and contact points between early and later adopters (see Kerr, 2018). Diffusion is any process where earlier adoption or practice within a population increases the likelihood of adoption among non-adopters (Strang, 1991: 325). It occurs when policy decisions in one country are systematically influenced by previous policy choices in other countries (Dobbin et al., 2007: 787; Gilardi, 2012). Traditionally, research on diffusion has focused on the spread of popular uprisings against autocratic leaders (Koesel & Bunce, 2013; Beissinger, 2007). However, more recently, scholars have shifted their focus to the diffusion of authoritarian practices (Ambrosio, 2010; Bank, 2017). The diffusion process occurs through three main mechanisms: learning, emulation, and cooperative interdependence (Bashirov et al., 2025).
Learning
The process of learning can be driven internally, where actors learn from their own experiences, evaluating and adopting innovations based on the success of prior applications. It can also be externally driven, with an external actor facilitating the learning process. The role of the external actor can range from small, such as selling or installing technological tools, to extensive, involving large-scale activities like seminars and training programs to promote a policy or practice. Using a practice framework, we focus on ‘configurations of actors’ involved in enabling authoritarianism (Michaelsen, 2018). Often, these actors are private companies rather than states.
Contrary to the perceived active role of Chinese companies, it was Western tech companies that provided most of the high-tech surveillance and censorship capabilities to authoritarian regimes in the Muslim world. Notable examples include the US-Canadian company Sandvine, the Israeli NSO Group, German FinFisher, and Finland’s Nokia Networks. Internet surveillance has been facilitated through the cooperation between adopter countries willing to purchase the technology and companies like Sandvine willing to sell it. Sandvine’s willingness is evidenced by the company’s chief technology officer, who stated, “We don’t want to play world police. We believe that each sovereign country should be allowed to set their own policy on what is allowed and what is not allowed in that country” (Gallagher, 2022).
Regarding external learning, China, along with Chinese and Western private companies, has been leading the promotion of internet censorship practices. China has become a major advocate and a learning source for middle powers in internet surveillance, data fusion, and AI. The Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) has become a crucial platform for these efforts. For instance, at the 2021 SCO summit, Chinese officials led a panel called the Thousand Cities Strategic Algorithms, training an international audience, including many representatives from developing countries, on creating a “national data brain” that integrates various forms of financial and personal data and employs artificial intelligence for analysis. According to the SCO website, 50 countries are involved in discussions with the Thousand Cities Strategic Algorithms initiative (Ryan-Mosley, 2022). China has also been proactive in offering media and government training programs to representatives from countries affiliated with the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). A notable example includes the Chinese Ministry of Public Security directing Meiya Pico, a Chinese cybersecurity company, to train government representatives from Turkey, Pakistan, Egypt, and other nations on digital forensics (see Weber, 2019: 9-11).
Russia is another leading source of diffusion of digital authoritarianism in the Middle East. Russia’s brazen attempts at disinformation and propaganda lend support to the emergence of digital manipulation as an acceptable practice across authoritarian countries. By demonstrating the effectiveness of disinformation campaigns and propaganda – such as Russian interference in US presidential elections in 2016 – the country has shown other regimes that similar tactics can be used to control their own populations and advance their interests (Day, 2022).
The role in the diffusion of digital authoritarian practice in the Middle East is not limited to China and Russia. Western countries, in fact, played significant roles as well. Despite Huawei’s involvement in projects like the $5 million data centre with Telecom Egypt and discussions about 5G infrastructure, Egypt has shown a preference for Western technology in its major smart city projects, like the New Administrative Capital (NAC). The adoption of urban surveillance capabilities in Egypt is thus a result of both internal and external learning mechanisms. The Sisi regime’s strategies, especially in the NAC, reflect an attempt to insulate the government from potential unrest.
US-Canadian company Sandvine/Procera has provided DPI surveillance equipment (hardware and software) to national networks operating in Egypt (Telecom Egypt). This system operates over connections between an internet site and the target user and allows the government to tamper with the data sent through an unencrypted network (HTTP vs. HTTPS). Moreover, recent revelations show that the company has played a significant role in facilitating the spread of ideas between countries. In an internal newsletter sent to employees, Sandvine Chief Technical Officer Alexander Haväng wrote Sandvine’s equipment could “show who’s talking to who, for how long, and we can try to discover online anonymous identities who’ve uploaded incriminating content online.” Through their information campaign, Sandvine contributed to learning by governments. In Egypt, the government has been using Sandvine’s devices “to block dozens of human rights, political, and news websites, including Human Rights Watch, Reporters Without Borders, Al Jazeera, Mada Masr, and HuffPost Arabic” (Marczak et al., 2018: 8).
Emulation
Emulation can be defined as “the process whereby policies diffuse because of their normative and socially constructed properties instead of their objective characteristics” (Gilardi 2012: 467). Research has shown that in complex and uncertain environments, policymakers respond by emulating the structural models of recognized leaders in the domain (Barnett & Finnemore, 2005). This behaviour is primarily driven by the pursuit of legitimacy and harmonization. International organizations, both governmental and non-governmental, play a crucial role in spreading commonly accepted standards of behaviour and organizational structures among countries.
Emulation has been significant in the diffusion of legal norms regarding internet restrictions and, to a lesser extent, in adopting Chinese urban surveillance infrastructures. Chinese corporations have established training hubs and research initiatives to disseminate expertise in artificial intelligence, internet surveillance, and digital space management (Kurlantzick, 2022). For instance, Huawei set up an OpenLab in Egypt in 2017, focusing on smart city, public safety, and smart government solutions. China has been a major promoter of the ‘safe city’ concept, which focuses on surveillance-driven policing of urban environments. This approach has been refined in many Chinese cities (Triolo, 2020). Companies such as Huawei, ZTE Corporation, Hangzhou Hikvision Digital Technology, Zhejiang Dahua Technology, Alibaba, and Tiandy are leading the export of this model (Yan, 2019).
Moreover, homophily, in the form of cultural and political alignment, as well as China’s emergence as an authoritarian role model, contributed to the emulation process. Homophily among actors played an important role, as actors prefer to emulate models from reference groups with whom they share similar cultural or social attributes (Elkins & Simmons, 2005). Political alignment and proximity among nations foster communication and the exchange of information (Rogers, 2010). This dynamic is observed between China and Russia and political regimes in the Muslim world including Egypt, which are susceptible to varying degrees of authoritarian governance. Loan conditionalities and trade negotiations within the context of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) have also played a role in enabling the spread of censorship and surveillance technologies from China to the Muslim world.
The Egyptian government has gathered widespread spying and phishing capabilities sourced from mostly Western companies. An obscure wing of the General Intelligence Directorate called the Technical Research Department (TRD) has purchased equipment from Finland-based Nokia-Siemens Networks (now Nokia Networks) that permits dial-up internet connection, enabling users to access the internet even if the primary national infrastructure is offline. Furthermore, Nokia Siemens Networks has provided the Egyptian government with an interception management system and a surveillance hub for fixed and mobile networks, granting the government mass surveillance capabilities to intercept phone communications (Privacy International, 2019). Another company involved in Egypt was the Italian surveillance technology company Hacking Team. In 2015, the latter was contracted by both the TRD (Technical Research Department) affiliated with Egyptian intelligence, and the Mansour Group (a conglomerate belonging to the second richest family in Egypt) to provide malware that grants the attacker complete control of the target computer (Privacy International, 2019).
In a brazen example of emulation of the practices of other authoritarian states, the Egyptian government started a widespread phishing campaign called Nile Phish in 2016 against the country’s civil society organizations implicated in the Case 173 crackdown (Scott-Railton et al., 2017). The campaign involved sending predatory emails and text messages to members of civil society to hack into their devices and accounts. An Amnesty International Report (2020) revealed that the Egyptian government used spying technology called FinSpy supplied by German company FinFisher Gmbh. FinSpy is a computer spyware suite sold exclusively to governments to monitor and intercept internet traffic, as well as to initiate phishing attacks against targeted users. FinSpy Trojan has been in use in Egypt to spy on opposition movements and enable the surveillance of political activists and journalists (ECCHR, 2023). In addition, denial-of-service (DoS) or packet injection practices are common in Egypt. For example, between May and September 2023, former Egyptian MP Ahmed Eltantawy was targeted by Cytrox’s Predator Spyware via links sent on SMS and WhatsApp. Eltantawy had announced he would be running in the 2024 presidential elections. Citizen Lab found that the network injection attack could be attributed to the Egyptian government and Sandvine’s PacketLogic product (Marczak et al., 2018).
Cooperative Interdependence
The practice of cooperative interdependence in the context of digital technologies refers to how internet censorship and surveillance are enabled through collaboration among adopting countries and state actors and private companies like Sandvine and NSO Group. Both Sandvine and NSO Group have faced significant controversy in their home countries, the US and Israel, over selling surveillance products to authoritarian regimes in the Middle East and beyond, Egypt in particular as explained in this report. NSO Group has been banned by the Israeli government from selling its products to major clients in the Middle East, including Saudi Arabia and the UAE (Staff, 2021). Similarly, Sandvine ceased operations in Russia following US sanctions after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022 and was forced to stop selling equipment to Belarus after reports revealed its technology was used by the Lukashenko regime to suppress protests in 2021 (Gallagher, 2022).
The broad process of digital authoritarian diffusion has created cooperative interdependence between the involved parties. Through cooperation with global actors, both corporate and state-level, Egyptian governments have imported sophisticated technologies enabling comprehensive internet and urban surveillance. Cooperative interdependence occurs when the policy choices of some governments create externalities that others must consider, leading to mutual benefits from adopting compatible policies (Braun & Gilardi, 2006). This dynamic incentivizes decision-makers to adopt policies chosen by others, enhancing efficiency and yielding mutual benefits. Here, China leverages its Digital Silk Road (DSR) under the BRI to promote the adoption of its technological infrastructure and accompanying surveillance and censorship policies (Hillman, 2021).
For instance, at the 2017 World Internet Conference in China, representatives from Egypt, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE signed a “Proposal for International Cooperation on the ‘One Belt, One Road’ Digital Economy” to construct the DSR, enhancing digital connectivity and e-commerce cooperation (Laskai, 2019). Core components of the DSR include smart cities, internet infrastructure, and mobile networks. Rather than forcing these countries to adopt internet censorship practices, China alters the incentive structures of BRI-connected states. Financial incentives, coupled with technology transfer, promote China’s practical approach to managing cyberspace. The DSR’s digital projects—such as 5G networks, smart cities, fibre optic cables, data centres, satellites, and connecting devices—have commercial value and strategic benefits, helping China achieve its geoeconomic and geopolitical objectives by promoting digital authoritarian practices and its internet governance model (Malena, 2021; Tang, 2020).
Conclusion
Photo: Hannu Viitanen.
This research has demonstrated the mechanisms through which digital authoritarian practices diffuse in Egypt. We found that Egypt has enacted multiple policies, including restrictive legal frameworks, internet censorship, urban surveillance, and strategic digital information operations (SDIOs), to reclaim the digital space from opposition and civil society, thereby entrenching digital authoritarianism in the country. The models adopted by the Egyptian regime closely emulate China and Russia’s paradigms of internet sovereignty and information control. China’s extensive political and economic linkages with Egypt, its strategic role in regional economies, and its leadership in forums like the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) have facilitated this trend. Through initiatives such as the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), China has exported its digital governance model while positioning itself as a global leader in information technology (Ryan-Mosley, 2022; Weber, 2019).
The diffusion of surveillance and censorship technologies also reflects a complex learning process involving both state and corporate actors. While China has played a critical role in promoting internet censorship practices, private Western companies have equally enabled Egypt’s digital authoritarian turn. Companies such as Sandvine, NSO Group, FinFisher, and Nokia Networks have supplied surveillance infrastructure independently of state policy, a departure from conventional diffusion literature that associates such practices with national strategic interests (Gallagher, 2022; Marczak et al., 2018; Privacy International, 2019). For instance, Sandvine’s DPI technology has been used in Egypt to block dozens of news and human rights websites, while its executives openly dismiss responsibility by deferring to national sovereignty (Gallagher, 2022). This corporate-led diffusion challenges the notion that digital authoritarianism is solely state-driven and reveals an under-regulated global market in repressive technologies.
Our findings have three broader implications. First, while Chinese influence is significant, the role of Western technology firms in enabling authoritarian diffusion should not be underestimated. Their operations in Egypt have not been directly aligned with their home states’ policies, contradicting earlier findings that firms facilitating authoritarian practices often act under state guidance (Arslan, 2022). Second, these private firms are not only exporters of tools but are actively involved in implementing government-sanctioned strategies, including malware distribution and interception systems (Appuhami et al., 2011; Teets & Hurst, 2014). Third, the study identifies the mechanisms of diffusion—learning, emulation, and cooperative interdependence—as key to understanding how regimes adapt digital authoritarian tactics to shifting political and technological contexts (Braun & Gilardi, 2006; Dobbin et al., 2007; Gilardi, 2012; Strang, 1991; Kerr, 2018).
Developing states may increasingly adopt practices such as national firewalls, smart city surveillance, and social credit systems modelled on early adopters like China and Russia. As they become embedded in transnational authoritarian networks—whether through SCO summits or Digital Silk Road initiatives—these regimes are incentivized to replicate practices that strengthen regime durability and evade democratic scrutiny (Hillman, 2021; Malena, 2021; Tang, 2020; Laskai, 2019).
Given these trends, addressing the entrenchment and diffusion of digital authoritarianism requires a coordinated, multi-level response. There is an urgent need to institutionalize international cyber norms and regulations that clearly define and prohibit practices such as mass surveillance, politically motivated internet shutdowns, and spyware exports. Multilateral institutions, including the United Nations and the European Union, must lead the effort to develop enforceable standards, promote transparency, and strengthen export control regimes. This would include holding corporations accountable through mandatory human rights due diligence, transparency disclosures, and legal sanctions when they contribute to repression.
Defending digital rights also requires robust national privacy protections and support for civil society organizations operating under authoritarian conditions. These groups need financial resources, digital tools, and international solidarity to resist surveillance, educate the public, and pursue legal redress where possible. Supporting democratic actors in repressive environments is essential for countering the normalization of authoritarian digital governance.
Private companies must no longer operate in a legal and ethical vacuum. Regulatory mechanisms should ensure that firms exporting surveillance technologies are held accountable for complicity in human rights violations. Public pressure campaigns and state-level policy interventions—such as targeted sanctions or procurement restrictions—can help enforce these norms. At the same time, incentives should be offered for ethical innovation and secure technology development that supports open societies.
International cooperation among democracies must deepen through the sharing of intelligence, technologies, and best practices in countering cyber repression and disinformation. Cross-national partnerships can create rapid response frameworks to detect and disrupt strategic digital information operations. Capacity-building programs should support governments seeking to manage their digital ecosystems in ways that uphold civil liberties and protect against authoritarian creep.
Economic leverage should be strategically employed. Trade policies, investment frameworks, and development aid must be conditioned on adherence to digital rights standards. This includes shifting financial relationships away from authoritarian technology providers and toward partners committed to democratic norms. Financial institutions and donor agencies must integrate digital governance benchmarks into their programming.
Diplomacy should play a more assertive role in exposing and isolating regimes that abuse digital technologies. Bilateral engagements, international resolutions, and public diplomacy should be used to condemn repressive practices, promote digital transparency, and advocate for global standards of accountability. Countries like Egypt must be pressured to reform not only through external criticism but through coordinated global action that combines legal, economic, and diplomatic tools.
In conclusion, the diffusion of digital authoritarianism is a multi-dimensional and complex phenomenon driven by both state and corporate actors, operating through networks of learning, emulation, and cooperative interdependence. The Egyptian case exemplifies how these processes work in practice and the urgent need for a sustained, global response. Confronting this challenge will require a blend of regulation and resistance, innovation and accountability, diplomacy and solidarity. Only through such an approach can the digital realm be reclaimed as a space of freedom, rights, and democratic resilience.
Funding: This work was supported by the Gerda Henkel Foundation, AZ 01/TG/21, Emerging Digital Technologies and the Future of Democracy in the Muslim World.
Authors
Ihsan Yilmaz is Deputy Director (Research Development) of the Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation (ADI) at Deakin University, where he also serves as Chair in Islamic Studies and Research Professor of Political Science and International Relations. He previously held academic positions at the Universities of Oxford and London and has a strong track record of leading multi-site international research projects. His work at Deakin has been supported by major funding bodies, including the Australian Research Council (ARC), the Department of Veterans’ Affairs, the Victorian Government, and the Gerda Henkel Foundation.
(*) Ali Mamouri is a scholar and journalist specializing in political philosophy and theology. He is currently a Research Fellow at the Alfred Deakin Institute for Citizenship and Globalisation at Deakin University. With an academic background, Dr. Mamouri has held teaching positions at the University of Sydney, the University of Tehran, and Al-Mustansiriyah University, as well as other institutions in Iran and Iraq. He has also taught at the Qom and Najaf religious seminaries. From 2020 to 2022, he served as a Strategic Communications Advisor to the Iraqi Prime Minister, providing expertise on regional political dynamics. Dr. Mamouri also has an extensive career in journalism. From 2016 to 2023, he was the editor of Iraq Pulse at Al-Monitor, covering key political and religious developments in the Middle East. His work has been featured in BBC, ABC, The Conversation, Al-Monitor, and Al-Iraqia State Media, among other leading media platforms. As a respected policy analyst, his notable works include “The Dueling Ayatollahs: Khamenei, Sistani, and the Fight for the Soul of Shiite Islam” (Al-Monitor) and “Shia Leadership After Sistani” (Washington Institute). Beyond academia and journalism, Dr. Mamouri provides consultation to public and private organizations on Middle Eastern affairs. He has published several works in Arabic and Farsi, including a book on the political philosophy of Muhammad Baqir Al-Sadr and research on political Salafism. Additionally, he has contributed to The Great Islamic Encyclopedia and other major Islamic encyclopedias.
(**) Shahram Akbarzadehis Convenor of Middle East Studies Forum (MESF) and Professor of International Politics, Deakin University (Australia). He held a prestigious ARC Future Fellowship (2013-2016) on the Role of Islam in Iran’s Foreign Policy-making and recently completed a Qatar Foundation project on Sectarianism in the Middle East. Professor Akbarzadeh has an extensive publication record and has contributed to the public debate on the political processes in the Middle East, regional rivalry and Islamic militancy. In 2022 he joined Middle East Council on Global Affairs as a Non-resident Senior Fellow.
(***) MuhammadOmer is a PhD student in political science at the Deakin University. His PhD is examining the causes, ideological foundations, and the discursive construction of multiple populisms in a single polity (Pakistan). His other research interests include transnational Islam, religious extremism, and vernacular security. He previously completed his bachelor’s in politics and history from the University of East Anglia, UK, and master’s in political science from the Vrije University Amsterdam.
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Marine Le Pen’s conviction for embezzling EU funds might have marked a legal defeat—but politically, it became a narrative victory. In her commentary, Julie Van Elslander explores how France’s far-right leader transformed her trial into a populist spectacle of persecution, mobilizing public anger and institutional distrust. By reframing judicial accountability as elite conspiracy, Le Pen advanced a post-truth strategy that defied factual condemnation and resonated deeply with disillusioned voters. This timely analysis illuminates the broader phenomenon of populist resilience in the face of scandal, showing how legal consequences can be strategically repurposed as political capital by populist actors within Europe’s increasingly contested democratic landscape.
By Julie Van Elslander*
Introduction
On March 31, 2025, Marine Le Pen, long-time leader of France’s far-right National Rally, was convicted by the criminal court of Paris for the misappropriation of an estimated €4.6 million in European Parliament funds (Ledroit, 2025). Sentenced to a heavy condemnation, Marine Le Pen suffered a significant legal and political blow. Yet, instead of weakening her influence or undermining her party’s credibility, the trial became a platform for Le Pen to reaffirm her political narrative. Despite legal conviction and moral discredit, the National Rally maintained political relevance by reframing the sentence as an element of political persecution – raising a question: How does a legal defeat become a populist narrative victory?
At the core, this narrative dynamic is emblematic of what scholars qualify of post-truth populism: The transformation of political culture by the devaluation of factual correctness over emotional appeal (Conrad & Hálfdanarson, 2023). In a context where public discourse is increasingly shaped by the logic of “alternative facts” – a concept introduced by Trump’s counselor in 2017 (Gajanan, 2017) – Le Pen’s trial is another example of the way post-truth populists challenge liberal democracies.
Rather than interrogating the legal dimensions of guilt or innocence, this analysis focuses on the populist discursive strategies through which Marine Le Pen’s trial was reframed in the public sphere, and how those shaped citizens’ political thinking (Aslanidis, 2016). The trial serves not simply as a juridical event, but also as a communicative site where competing narratives about power, legitimacy and truth are constructed.
The Case of Le Pen’s Trial – Facts and Only Facts
Among twenty-four others, nine ex-MEPs and twelve parliamentary assistants from the National Rally were trialed for “embezzlement of public funds” and “complicity in the embezzlement of public funds” from 2004 to 2016 (Maad, 2025). In this case, the court recognized that the European Parliament’s public funds were misappropriated in order to remunerate employees working for the party management under fictitious contracts, rather than related to the European parliamentary activity – as it is normally required for those collaborators (ibid.).
Marine Le Pen was sentenced to a €100.000 fine, two years under house arrest while wearing an electronic ankle bracelet, additional two-year suspended sentence, and five years’ ineligibility for public office with immediate effect. Le Pen’s heavy condemnation was due to what the court’s president as qualified as her “central role” in this case: “at the heart of this system since 2009, Marine Le Pen has signed up with authority and determination in the operation established by her father, in which was participating since 2004” (Dao, 2025).
Le Pen will appeal the verdict, but she will remain ineligible and could be ruled out of the 2027 presidential elections. She won’t serve the house arrest until every appeal is exhausted but the ban on running for office will be implemented immediately despite her legal challenge.
The irony of the case is striking: Marine Le Pen, who used to call for life ineligibility for elected officials convicted of embezzlement or corruption (Brault, 2025), now contests the legitimacy of her own sentence – but how does such a reversal become not a source of discredit, but a tool for reaffirming political legitimacy?
Not Guilty, Just Targeted? Le Pen’s Populist Response to Conviction
Despite her conviction, Marine Le Pen managed to maintain her political standing by discursively reframing the charges into a populist narrative of persecution and resistance. Ever since the trial’s deliberation, Le Pen has not stopped claiming her innocence, repeatedly insisting the judges were “mistaken” and reducing the issue to a simple “administrative disagreement with the European Parliament” that involved “no personal enrichment” (Marchal, 2025). Yet, the tribunal clearly stated that although the actions did not generate direct personal enrichment, they constituted serious breach of integrity and democratic principles, involving deception of both the European Parliament and voters (Sicard, 2025). By providing financial benefits to the National Rally, the stolen funds allowed it to maintain political influence and electoral advantages for over a decade (ibid.).
The judges justified the use of the ineligibility sentence and its exécution provisoire (which allows the sentence to be enforced even before an appeal), emphasizing that the defendants had expressed no recognition of their violation of the law, and the court had a duty to ensure that “elected officials, like any other subject, do not benefit from a preferential regime incompatible with the trust sought by citizens in political life” (France info, 2025). In 2023 alone, around 16.000 ineligibility sentences were issued in France, 639 of which included the exécution provisoire (France info, 2025a). While such measure is applied selectively – and in about 4% of the cases – it is far from exceptional (ibid.). Indeed, several other high-profile political figures in France, such as Nicolas Sarkozy or François Fillon, have been sentenced to ineligibility in recent years (Louis, 2025).
However, in the populist narrative, these precedents are rarely acknowledged. By using terms such as a “tyranny of the judges” (Cossard, 2025), the National Rally reinforced the idea that Le Pen is being unfairly targeted. The rhetoric implies an extraordinary sanction used to silence political opposition: the trial isn’t presented as a neutral legal process, but as the proof of a biased system – with Le Pen denouncing a “political decision,” a practice “we believed to be reserved for authoritarian regimes” (Vignal, 2025). The judiciary becomes just another part of the “elite” that is supposedly trying to stop her from acceding to the Elysée: “the system has released the nuclear bomb. If it uses such a powerful weapon against us, it is obviously because we are about to win the elections” (A.B., 2025). Here, Le Pen’s reframing does not deny the factual events themselves; rather, she strategically reinterprets them because openly acknowledging illegality could undermine her political legitimacy and moral authority.
This discursive approach fits neatly into what researchers call post-truth populism: The idea isn’t just to reject facts but to question who gets to decide what’s true in the first place(Ylä-Anttila, 2018). Populist leaders like Le Pen challenge the credibility and intentions of traditional fact-producers – such as judges, journalists or experts – to position themselves as more trustworthy (Mahmutović & Lovec, 2024). By stating that their version of facts are biased, corrupt or politically motivated, populist leaders construct alternative narratives, in which facts are selectively reinterpreted in ways that support their political agenda. The aim is not necessarily to prove their narrative is objectively true, but rather to undermine opposing ones as suspicious and irrelevant.
This type of rhetoric fits within a common populist logic, where courts and other oversight bodies are seen as tools of an unaccountable elite trying to undermine the will of the “real people” – a homogeneous group not defined by citizenship, but by symbolic alignment with the populist cause (Arato, 2017). By framing her conviction as political persecution, Le Pen not only shields herself from public blame, but also primes her supporters to view the case as of a “stolen election”.
Why Marine Le Pen Wasn’t ‘Cancelled’: Political Loyalty in a ‘Stolen’ Election
Marine Le Pen may have been convicted in court, but in the arena of public opinion, she proved to be remarkably cancel-proof. This resilience is rooted in the post-truth populist strategy that places narrative above norms, and emotional appeal above factual truth. It particularly stemmed among her supporters, for whom the verdict was seen as a symbol of political persecution, and an attempt to steal the 2027 election – a narrative that quickly found concrete expression in public reactions. On March 31, 2025, a few hours after Le Pen’s conviction, a French national news broadcast captured street interviews where multiple citizens reacted with shock and outrage, describing the verdict as “personal” and a way to “take her out” of the presidential race (TF1info, 2025).
An online petition launched by National Rally, titled “Save democracy, save Marine” (Rassemblement National, 2025) rapidly gathered thousands of signatures and rallied support over social media, but its message was not just about supporting Le Pen – it was about defending her voters’ rights. In an open letter promoting the petition, Jordan Bardella, the young president of the National Rally, described the conviction as an attack against voters: “They are trying to prevent a candidacy supported by millions of French people, which is well ahead in all the polls. They deprive millions of voters of their choice and therefore their freedom” (Krupa, 2025). This sense of disenfranchisement was further amplified at a public rally held a week later, during which Bardella addressed the crowd and further defended Le Pen as a candidate of the people, framing her conviction as an attempt to prevent the National Rally from acceding to power (ibid.). The conviction, as he claimed, was not just about her but about the right of French voters to choose their leader. The rally became a platform where Le Pen was portrayed not only as a victim but as a representative of silenced voters.
This narrative fits the typical populist discourse, which emerges from a perceived failure of representation (Rosanvallon, 2020) and frames political reality as a fundamental conflict between a corrupted elite and the common people, “whose mobilization is presented as the only solution” (Aslanidis, 2016) to regain sovereignty. Here, the mobilization efforts are largely symbolic: Neither a petition nor public rally could change the judicial outcome, as courts are not influenced by popularity. However, their aim is to reinforce the idea that the verdict is unjust, judicial independence compromised and that the electors are the true victims of this case. Those efforts function as political and social tools – not legal ones – allowing Le Pen’s supporters to transform outrage into collective action, and to signal strength and solidarity.
This is a key aspect of post-truth populism: The National Rally’s version of events is framed as more authentic because it taps into a deeper, widespread sense of institutional distrust (Harsin, 2024). When ordinary citizens feel that traditional institutions no longer represent them fairly, populist leaders like Le Pen often claim to embody the will of the people directly, calling for diverse forms of direct democracy (ibid.). Within this logic, portraying Le Pen’s sentence as exceptional and biased doesn’t require evidence – it simply needs to fit the broader story that her supporters believe: That she, like them, is being unfairly treated by a system that no longer serves them.
Yet, while this narrative mobilized Le Pen’s supporters within France, the impact of her conviction also reverberated beyond national borders, sparking polarized reactions at the European level.
A European Issue with Global Repercussions
With the National Rally’s discourse focusing on national stakes, the European legal affair was reframed as a national political issue. That is, in part, due to the nature of the European Union’s legal proceedings. Even though the European Parliament’s public funds are distributed through the institutions, MEPs are elected nationally and therefore reside within national jurisdiction. The investigation was first opened by the OLAF – the European Anti-Fraud Office, an independent entity – in 2014 (Bouquet, 2025), but criminal prosecution and sentencing remained the responsibility of national courts. Although the matter originated at the European level, with the European Parliament lifting Le Pen’s immunity following a referral to French authorities, the fact that the trial was handled nationally contributed to the widespread perception that it was a purely domestic affair. This procedural pathway ultimately placed the case within a broader discursive shift, reframing the trial as a French political controversy – judges, media and legal discourse – all nationally situated.
Moreover, the French discourse largely undermined the collective European harm caused by the embezzlement. While the European Parliament – the civil plaintiff in the case – announced it “took note” of the decision and declined to comment further, Le Pen’s conviction quickly gathered support among fellow populist leaders, particularly from far-right figure such as Viktor Orbán, Matteo Salvini, and Donald Trump. Orbán expressed direct solidarity by stating “Je suis Marine!” – a phrase typically used to express support and mourning for victims – while Salvini denounced the verdict as a “declaration of war by Brussels” (Les Echos, 2025). Trump compared Le Pen’s legal troubles to his own, labeling it a “witch hunt” and accusing European elites of using the judiciary to silence political opposition (Le Monde, 2025).
These international endorsements were not merely supportive gesture; they became central elements of the populist narrative surrounding Le Pen’s case. While the trial was framed in France as a part of a broader struggle between national sovereignty and a hostile elite, this international support further cast her as a symbol of resistance against a corrupt system – reinforcing the idea of a national and European political conspiracy targeting her.
The same divisive framing extended into the European Parliament itself. During the plenary session held shortly after the verdict, several Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) from the Patriots for Europe group – Le Pen’s European political family – expressed their support for Le Pen, condemning the conviction as undemocratic and broadly questioning the state of the rule of law in Europe. Hungarian MEP András László notably accused the “Brussels elite” of trying to “legally sabotage a far-right politician” because of her patriotism and opposition to a “globalist elite” (European Parliament, 2025) – aligning with the narrative of persecution. In contrast, MEPs from other political groups welcomed the conviction as a critical step in combating corruption within the institution. German MEP Daniel Freund notably qualified the Le Pen’s actions as “the biggest fraud case in the history of the European Parliament” (ibid.).
This polarized reaction within the European Parliament highlighted the trial’s dual nature: Legally, it was a case of embezzlement involving European funds, but politically, it became a battleground over competing narratives. For Le Pen’s allies, it symbolized a struggle against an oppressive European elite; for her critics, it was a long-overdue act of accountability.
Indeed, Le Pen’s case comes within the broader context of corruption scandals that have been shaking the European Parliament itself. The Qatargate scandal in 2022, involving allegations of bribes paid by Qatar to influence European lawmakers, and the Huawei case in 2023, where Chinese lobbying was accused of seeking favorable policies through financial incentives, exposed the vulnerability of European institutions to corruption. These scandals not only undermined the Parliament’s authority as a democratic institution of EU decision-making but also deepened the citizens’ distrust in EU governance – a distrust that populists are quick to weaponize.
Conclusion
The Le Pen case is more than a legal scandal – it is a test of the resilience of European institutions against populist narratives that thrive on distrust. It is not merely about one politician reframing her conviction as persecution; it is a case study in how a legal process can be transformed into a battleground of competing truths. At its core, this case reveals a deeper conflict between factual accountability and symbolic politics.
Ultimately, the stakes go beyond Le Pen herself. The crisis of trust she has exploited is part of a broader European problem. As Qatargate and the Huawei scandal have shown, European institutions are not immune to corruption, and this vulnerability has fueled perceptions of institutional hypocrisy. It is this perceived hypocrisy that populist leaders weaponize, transforming legitimate accountability efforts into narratives of persecution. Ultimately, the Le Pen case is a message of political legitimacy: In an era of post-truth populism, the verdict in court may matter less than the verdict in public opinion.
(*) Julie Van Elslander is a double master’s student in European Governance (Sciences Po Grenoble) and Politics and Public Administration (Universität Konstanz), with a strong interest in how democracies respond to challenges like populism, post-truth politics, and institutional distrust. She has contributed to European-level research projects on political communication, corruption, and democratic accountability, and currently works as a research intern at the Center of International Relations (University of Ljubljana).
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In this timely and thought-provoking interview, Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi explores how authoritarianism has become “the new normal” in the Middle East amid a global retreat from democratic norms. Speaking to the ECPS, Dr. Al-Marashi analyzes the region’s complex landscape shaped by imperial legacies, resource politics, and shifting global alliances. He highlights how populist rhetoric, digital platforms, and transactional diplomacy—especially under Trump-era politics—are empowering authoritarian leaders and weakening democratic institutions. While civil society faces mounting repression, Dr. Al-Marashi suggests that digital activism and “artivism” may offer spaces of survival and resistance. This interview provides essential insight into how populism and authoritarianism intersect in the Middle East—and what that means for the future of governance in the region.
In an era marked by the erosion of liberal democratic norms and the global resurgence of authoritarian tendencies, Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi—Associate Professor at Department of History, California State University, San Marcos—offers a timely and incisive analysis of the Middle East’s evolving political landscape. In an in-depth interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Dr. Al-Marashi argues that “authoritarianism has become normalized—it’s now the prevailing norm,” particularly in a world increasingly shaped by populist and transactional leadership.
Drawing from historical legacies and contemporary global shifts, Dr. Al-Marashi underscores how imperial interference and resource wealth have long laid the groundwork for authoritarian populism in the region. “Hydrocarbons enable political elites to generate revenue without relying on taxation,” he explains, allowing regimes to distribute wealth in ways that bypass democratic accountabilityand reinforce autocratic control. He connects this dynamic to broader regional patterns, noting that even militant groups such as ISIS have employed populist strategies by attempting to dismantle colonial-era bordersand mobilize transnational support.
Dr. Al-Marashi highlights the impact of shifting global power dynamics, particularly the rise of multipolarity and the influence of Trumpism, in undermining democratic aspirations. With the US retreating from its rhetorical commitment to democracy, populist-authoritarian leaders find renewed legitimacy. “If the US is adopting these behaviors,” he argues, “this is the new norm—this is the future.” This sets a precedent for regimes that increasingly embrace personalistic and sultanistic rule, with little concern for liberal democratic values.
Transactional diplomacy, particularly under Trump, has also reshaped regional alliances. Dr. Al-Marashi notes that such diplomacy empowers authoritarian actors like Netanyahu, while simultaneously emboldening sectarian militias and weakening traditional state structures. “It’s a double-edged sword—quite literally,” he remarks, especially when it comes to balancing regional power plays and proxy conflicts in places like Syria, Iraq, and Yemen.
While the picture appears bleak, Dr. Al-Marashi also points to the resilience of digital resistance. He suggests that civil society and democratizing efforts may survive—if not flourish—through digital activism and what he terms “artivism.” In a region where the state has often failed to provide basic services, digital spaces may serve as the last frontier for democratic imagination and mobilization.
This interview captures the complexity of a region grappling with entrenched authoritarianism amid a globally permissive environment—and offers critical insights into how populist movements and power politics intersect in the 21st century Middle East.
Here is the lightly edited transcript of the interview with Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi.
Imperial Legacies and Oil Wealth Laid the Foundation for Authoritarian Populism in the Middle East
Oil pump jack in the desert of Bahrain. Photo: Dreamstime.
Professor Ibrahim Al-Marashi, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: What historical and socio-political conditions in Iraq and the broader Middle East have laid the groundwork for the rise of populist authoritarianism in the region?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: The obvious factors are imperial interference and hydrocarbons—oil and gas. The involvement of foreign powers, whether Britain or the US, consistently provides a convenient enemy to rally against. Meanwhile, hydrocarbons enable political elites to generate revenue without relying on taxation. This, in turn, enhances populism, as the revenues can be distributed directly through large-scale projects that bolster support for figures like Saddam Hussein—or any other authoritarian leader—not only in Iraq but across the region.
How have legacies of colonialism, militarization, and post-conflict governance contributed to the entrenchment of populist and authoritarian leadership styles in the Middle East?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: In the case of Iraq, the British were always a convenient target to rally against. In other states ruled by France, for example, populations could similarly rally against the legacy of the colonial power. Even if you look at ISIS as a kind of populist and terrorist group, its goal of dismantling borders was an attempt to mobilize the masses—not just in the Middle East, but across the entire Muslim world. Saddam Hussein framed the invasion of Kuwait as an effort to erase borders established by British colonialism, making it a similarly convenient rallying point. And then, let’s not forget the United States. In the case of the Houthis, for instance, their appeal extends not only beyond Yemen but throughout the region, as they are perceived as one of the last groups seeking agency in a region largely shaped by US control. This is the legacy: there are concrete historical borders that have divided communities, but there is also, in the collective imagination, a persistent target around which to rally.
Authoritarianism Has Become the New Norm—This Is the Future
From a populism perspective, how are shifting global power dynamics — especially the rise of multipolarity and the return of a nationalist, transactional Trump administration — shaping authoritarian resilience and weakening democratic aspirations in the Middle East? In what ways might these trends bolster authoritarian populist movements across the region?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Authoritarianism has become normalized—it’s now the prevailing norm. Even though the US has often behaved in authoritarian ways, it at least used to pay lip service to the promotion of democratic governance around the world. I think that facade has now been abandoned. As a result, populist leaders can more or less say, “Look, if the US is adopting these behaviors, this is the new norm—this is the future.”
Even in the case of Russia, there appears to be, at the very least, a personalistic rapprochement—a relationship based more on the closeness of individual leaders than shared values. The emerging regime type in this multipolar world is personalistic—what you might call sultanistic—drawing on the term “Sultan,” as used by the academic Houchang Chehabi.
If that’s the case, then there is no longer a democratic model to aspire to. This increasingly looks like the wave of the future—the future of governance.
How has the populist rhetoric of the Trump administrations—particularly their framing of “radical Islam” and their regional double standards—impacted the legitimacy of state institutions and non-state actors in Iraq and the broader Middle East?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: In this case, there are two dynamics at play. This ties back to your earlier question about transactional foreign policy. If Trump makes a deal with Iran over its nuclear program—well, the Iraqi Shia militias are essentially mass mobilization forces for the Shia population, and much of that mobilization is supported by Iran. If Iran enters negotiations with the US, it would have less incentive to continue backing those militias. That’s one example involving non-state actors.
Then there’s the other paradox: an escalation of the war against the Houthis in Yemen. Iran might choose to rein them in, but if not, the Houthis may continue attacking Red Sea shipping as a consequence of these ongoing tensions. This illustrates how transactionalism, populism, and non-state actors intersect in the region.
Transactional Diplomacy Fuels Sectarian Populism
Shiite fighters take position in the Shia village of Al-Zahra, Syria, amid intense clashes involving Hezbollah. Photo: Ibrahim Khader / Pacific Press.
Could the Trump administration’s emphasis on transactional diplomacy further embolden sectarian and ethnic populism in conflict zones like Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and how?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Not okay—on two levels. Transactional diplomacy with Netanyahu might embolden him to act unilaterally in Syria and Lebanon, and perhaps even as far as Yemen. Israel’s actions in these areas could fuel sectarianism in several ways: it could lead to a resurgence of Hezbollah in Lebanon, embolden the Houthis, and prompt Israel to use the Syrian Druze minority as a proxy. That’s one pathway through which sectarianism might be intensified.
Israel might also be emboldened to target Iraq’s Shia militias, which are part of the so-called “axis of resistance.”
On the other hand, if this transactional diplomacy were to result in a grand bargain with Iran, those same actors might be reined in.
So it’s a double-edged sword—quite literally—in terms of how this foreign policy could shape the region.
In your view, how does the militarization of politics via militias such as The Popular Mobilization Units (PMU) reflect populist strategies of political mobilization in the Middle East, especially in terms of bypassing traditional democratic institutions and appealing to ‘the people’?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: The PMU is really a broad body of militias. A good number of them first emerged to resist the US occupation of Iraq. Initially, I don’t think it was about bypassing democratic institutions. Many were mobilized because Ayatollah Sistani was able to rally the masses in response to the ISIS threat.
The way they later contributed to undermining institutions in Iraq was by becoming a parallel force to the Iraqi military, and eventually by playing a role against the protests that called for better governance and technocratic rule.
So it’s complicated. The Popular Mobilization Units emerged in response to the occupation, later served as Iranian proxies, then fought against ISIS, and eventually remained as a force that prevented the Iraqi military from maintaining a monopoly on violence—borrowing from Max Weber’s concept.
Again, we’re at an inflection point. I think it all hinges on a potential deal with Iran: whether these militias will be reined in and subsumed into the army or the security sector, or whether they will continue to act as spoilers to Iraq’s post-conflict governance structure.
When the State Fails, Militias Become the Security Provider
Mahdi Scouts boys during a funeral ceremony in Jannata, southern Lebanon, on February 9, 2017, for a Hezbollah military commander killed in the Syrian war. Photo: Nabil Kassir.
Considering your work on COVID-19 and militia reinvention, how do crises (like pandemics or conflicts) serve as opportunities for populist-authoritarian actors in the Middle East to entrench power under the guise of serving ‘the people’—and how might this intensify under a second Trump presidency?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Take the case of the pandemic—and I’ll give you an example closer to home, where I am in San Diego. When COVID hit Mexico, you had drug cartels, like those formerly under Guzmán (El Chapo), distributing medical kits—such as masks and water—to people affected by COVID-19. In other words, when the Mexican security sector failed and the health sector also failed, these non-state actors filled the void. They became both the security and health sectors.
That’s exactly what happened with COVID-19 in the Middle East—in places like Lebanon, Yemen, and Iraq. It was the Houthis, Hezbollah, and the Shia militias that were disinfecting public spaces, distributing masks, and so on. What these places have in common is the collapse of the security sector. As Max Weber said, when the state no longer holds a legitimate monopoly on violence, non-state actors step in and become both the security and health providers.
This is ultimately an indictment of the weak health sectors in those societies. But the weak health sector is a reflection of a weak security sector—you don’t have an army capable of enforcing the state’s monopoly on violence. When the state is unable to provide basic services—what we call biopower, the ability to keep the population alive—you get necropolitics instead. That’s when the state is too weak to deliver health services, and violent non-state actors—cartels or militias—step in to fill the void.
How do Middle Eastern regimes employ especially Islamist populist rhetoric domestically to justify authoritarian practices, especially in an international environment increasingly tolerant of illiberal governance?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Islamist rhetoric is by definition an attempt to mobilize the masses through faith. When governance fails, you turn to divine governance to justify authority and appeal to the imagination. That’s how I would see it. It’s similar to using anti-colonial rhetoric—it’s more or less an appeal to the masses. When the public has very little faith in the structures that govern them, this is where Islamist rhetoric steps in to fill the gap.
Every Power Is Backing Proxies—Democracy Is No Longer the Goal
What role do you foresee for regional actors (such as Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Turkey) playing in either reinforcing authoritarianism or providing openings for democratic movements under these new global conditions?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: You know, in that regional mix, I would also add Israel—and this is a post-October 7th development. I’ll tell you why. In 2011, during the Arab Spring, for the first time in the region’s history, the US more or less refrained from intervening in the fate of regimes. It allowed the regime of Hosni Mubarak, a longtime ally, to fall. In that vacuum, Saudi Arabia and Iran engaged in a regional cold war, with Turkey also entering the mix. It became, in effect, a three-way conflict.
What followed was a regional cold war accompanied by counter-revolutionary dynamics. One of those counter-revolutionary tendencies eventually prevailed. Turkey, Iran, and Saudi Arabia each chose sides—supporting different counter-revolutionary or revisionist forces. These rivalries played out through proxy conflicts.
Now, after October 7th, Israel has entered the fray.
So the region today looks very different from the era of Arab Spring optimism. Every major power is backing proxies to serve its own interests. And this is especially evident in Syria.
If you want to understand how four actors are shaping Syria’s future: Turkey is deeply invested in the current Syrian government; Israel is working to expand its presence; Saudi Arabia is wiping away Syria’s debts; and Iran is trying to preserve the influence it has lost. None of these four powers are interested in a transition to democratic governance in Syria. All are focused on maintaining their respective spheres of influence. In that sense, each is likely to reinforce autocratic tendencies. They are more inclined to back warlords as proxies than to support any meaningful democratic transition.
Given the historical reliance of Middle Eastern authoritarian regimes on external patrons, how might a US foreign policy under Trump 2.0 reshape alliances, especially with regimes facing internal legitimacy crises?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: I think the best case in point is how close the Trump administration was to Saudi Arabia.So it might try, in a second term, a strategy of offshore balancing—essentially carving out spheres of influence in a multipolar system and telling Saudi Arabia: “We’re not really concerned about your human rights issues, but you maintain order in the Gulf.”
The US would provide as many weapons as needed, and of course, Trump would say, “You have to pay for them,” to boost his standing domestically. But the message would be: it’s your job to be the policeman in the Gulf. That’s what I mean by offshore balancing.
The same approach would likely apply to Israel. That doesn’t bode well for the future of Palestinian governance, and Saudi Arabia would have little incentive to address human rights issues—as long as it continues to receive a blank check from Washington.
Authoritarianism Is Not Just Tolerated—The Masses Are Seen to Want It
Protest march in Beirut against Lebanon bombing by Israel. Photo: Sadık Gulec.
Could the erosion of liberal democratic norms in the West, accelerated by populist leaders like Trump, provide ideological “cover” for Middle Eastern populist-authoritarian leaders? How?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Absolutely—especially now that the US doesn’t even go through the motions of paying lip service to human rights.
From the perspective of international relations theory—specifically constructivism—a new norm has been constructed: not only can authoritarian governance be tolerated, but the masses actually want it. It’s no accident that the masses elected someone like Trump. Or, to go further, take the case of El Salvador—you have another kind of authoritarian-populist leader who is more or less aligned with the Trump administration’s approach.
And I think that’s become a model for the rest of the world. Regimes can now say: not only does the US want strongman leadership, but you—the people—want it too. Because a strong hand gets things done.
In what ways might regional populist movements exploit global discourses of “national sovereignty” and “anti-globalism,” championed by Trumpism, to consolidate authoritarian rule?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: When you talk about discourses and global dynamics, there’s an important element here called digital populism. All of this is enabled because politics now also occurs on a digital plane. More or less, digital platforms have become a way for authoritarian regimes to bypass traditional media structures and appeal directly to the masses—especially in cases where traditional media has not yet been fully co-opted by authoritarian leaders. So, to answer your question, digital populism is the key. It’s the mechanism through which these discourses become normalized and reach mass audiences.
Exclusion, Not Sectarianism, Is the Real Threat
Given the weakening of traditional international pressure for democratization, do you foresee populist movements in the Middle East mutating toward more overt forms of sectarianism, ethno-nationalism, or exclusionary politics?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: I would say more toward exclusionary politics. And here’s why: if we look at this in terms of ethno-sectarianism, I wonder if the region has been exhausted by those challenges. Let me explain what I mean. At one point, the so-called “axis of resistance” included Persian Twelver Shia Iran; Arab Twelver Shia militias in Iraq; an Arab Alawite regime in Syria; Arab Twelver Shia Hezbollah; Zaydi Shia Houthis in Yemen; and Arab Sunni Islamist groups like Islamic Jihad and Hamas. Of course, that axis of resistance has been dealt a very heavy blow in recent years. But the fact that such an ideologically diverse coalition could form makes me question whether the ethno-sectarian frame has been over-fetishized. There are other, more complex realities on the ground.
I think ethnic and sectarian identities are securitized—that is, they are instrumentalized when convenient for those in power, and then abandoned when such divisions no longer serve political interests. So, if that’s the case, I see the trajectory more in terms of exclusionary politics. Populism becomes a mask to mobilize the masses—but always at the expense of issue-based politics and inclusive governance. Those who are excluded often include civil society actors, journalists, and ethnic minorities, for example.
In a context where Western powers show declining interest in promoting democracy abroad, is there still space for bottom-up democratization efforts in the Middle East, or are we entering a phase of entrenched authoritarianism?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive. We are indeed facing entrenched authoritarianism, but I would also say—thinking back to digital populism—that if authoritarianism is being entrenched through digital means, then perhaps bottom-up approaches can also survive through digital spaces.
I’m thinking, for example, of the digital hacktivist collective Anonymous. During the Arab Spring, when various regimes tried to crush protests, Anonymous hacked into state systems in support of the protesters. That’s just one example.
Because, of course, ideas can’t be killed, right? And the one sphere that hasn’t been fully subsumed by the state is still the digital realm. I think that’s where these democratic ideas and efforts can continue to exist.
Does that necessarily translate into on-the-ground resistance? That has yet to be seen. But at this particular inflection point, I believe that’s where the ideas will, at the very least, find refuge.
If Silence Is Spreading in the US, Imagine How Much Worse It Is in the Middle East
And finally, Professor Al-Marashi, considering the weakening of global democratic norms, how can civil society actors in the Middle East adapt their strategies for resistance and survival amid a more authoritarian-friendly international environment?
Dr. Ibrahim Al-Marashi: Again, I refer to my previous answer. I think, at the end of the day, these groups might survive digitally. They’ll be able to organize online. But to be honest, if you look at how the region has been transformed since 2011, it does not look good. So many of these actors are barely surviving.
At the end of the day, the ideas might persist—through digital activism, through art, through artivism.
But I’m speaking from the US, where even here, the ability to speak openly—on campuses, for example—is being threatened. If I can sense a wave of silence coming here, I can only imagine how much worse it must be in the Middle East.
I assessed migration background by inquiring about the birthplaces of respondents’ mothers and fathers. It was necessary to ask this question first for sampling purposes. To minimise potential ordering effects on the data, I randomised the order in which respondents viewed the policy questions and experimental profiles (for the full questionnaire, see appendix in van Oosten, 2025c). To mitigate acquiescence bias, where respondents tend to agree with statements, I randomised the wording of the policy questions. For instance, one half of the sample saw the statement: “the taxes for this rich should be raised” and the other half saw “the taxes for the rich should be lowered” and I recoded the variables accordingly. I prepared the data using R-package ‘tidyr’ (Wickham, 2020, see all code and replication materials here: van Oosten, 2025c).
Conclusion
