The Strong Man (ca. 1865) | Honoré Daumier/Philips Collection / Public Domain
In November 2024, the India China Institute at The New School hosted the online panel “Trajectories of Authoritarianism in Democratic Regimes,” which featured scholars Pratap Bhanu Mehta, Senem Aydin-Düzgit, and Jeffrey C. Isaac in conversation with moderator Mark W. Frazier about patterns of takeover, decay, and distrust of political institutions in India, Turkey, and the United States.
The conversation took place before Donald Trump was inaugurated for a second time. Since then, some of the authors’ projections have been confirmed, and lingering ambiguities have been razed; as Isaac noted in a recent email to Public Seminar, it is now “very clear that Trump is relentlessly attacking liberal democratic norms and institutions with a determination, and fascist inspiration, that far exceeds his first term.”
The following transcript of their discussion has been edited for clarity and length.
Mark Frazier: The year 2024 has been called a “global election super cycle,” as over 70 countries held general or national elections. In spring in India and Turkey, opposition parties performed somewhat better than expected against incumbent governments, which held onto power but offered some hope for opposition politics in these countries. The US election results have continued a global pattern of punishing incumbent governments for their countries’ economic conditions. But the US elections signal much more than that. The return of Trump to the American presidency raises questions about authoritarian trends within democratic regimes, which is the topic of today’s panel. While the American elections are still fresh in our minds, this panel is not intended to be another conversation about November 5. Instead, it’s a chance to reflect more broadly on authoritarian or illiberal turns within democratic regimes and to explore how we arrived at this point and what this new political order might mean for the future.
So the first question is: How might we understand the rise of illiberal politics across so many democracies globally?
Senem Aydin-Düzgit: In Turkey’s case, the shift towards competitive authoritarianism has been unfolding for about the past decade. In my own work, however, I date this shift to around 2007, during the second term of the AKP’s rule.
The AKP first came to power in 2002 as a single-party government. In their initial term, they didn’t take significant steps to dismantle the already fragile state of Turkish democracy; though it was never fully consolidated, it was in better shape then than it is today. However, starting in their second term, the AKP gradually began capturing state institutions, stacking courts, and slowly shrinking civic space. When they came to power with a stronger popular mandate in the 2007 elections, these efforts intensified.
A major influence has been the international context. Turkey was once firmly aligned with Western institutions and alliances, which paralleled its republicanizing efforts. But around 2005, relations with the European Union began deteriorating as the EU ultimately decided not to accept Turkey as a full member.
At the same time, the changing international order, with an increasing turn toward multipolarity, played a crucial role.
The West and its democracy agenda, which for Turkey was primarily centered on the EU, stopped serving as a clear reference point. Alternatives emerged, such as Russia and Gulf countries in Turkey’s case. This shift in international context lowered the cost of Turkey’s turn toward competitive authoritarianism, allowing Erdoğan’s government to strengthen bilateral relations and sidestep Western pressure when necessary.
Pratap Mehta: I’d like to start with a somewhat controversial thought. We’re describing what’s happening as authoritarianism—that’s the basis of this panel. However, the people in the countries we’re discussing don’t necessarily see it that way. The “democracy in danger” argument hasn’t resonated in places like the United States or India; some might even say it’s backfired. Many people respond by asking, “What danger to democracy?” They argue that these leaders were popularly elected, and elections are as free and fair as ever. There’s a puzzling gap here: Why does our view of authoritarianism differ from that of democratic publics?
When we think of democracy, if we support some form of liberal democracy, we think of checks and balances and limits on power. But what seems to have happened, particularly in India and perhaps elsewhere, is that many people see these very institutions of checks and balances as obstacles. They view the institutional framework as a way for elites to use these institutions to block the will of the people and to serve elite interests.
This sentiment was amplified by the 2009 financial crisis, which exposed certain elite interests and led to a collapse of the prior consensus around globalization, regulatory reform, and technocratic control of government. That crisis provides a structural backdrop for understanding this shift.
I think the energy behind many populist movements comes from their claim to restore agency to the people, often through the leader’s persona or the political party they represent. The question we need to ask is: Why do so many people around the world feel that liberal constitutionalism actually hindered genuine democracy?
In India’s case, while these background issues and dissatisfactions were already present, it’s crucial to recognize that Prime Minister Modi has exceptional political skills. He was able to tap into these circumstances very effectively, in some ways brilliantly. A key aspect of his appeal is the sense of identification he evoked, particularly through his personal biography. He positioned himself as the first major mass leader not from the Nehru-Gandhi family, contrasting himself with India’s dynastic political system.
Modi’s emphasis on personal integrity, in opposition to the perceived corruption of the old regime, is also important.
But the most significant factor in India’s move toward authoritarianism has been the alliance between populism and a certain form of Hindu nationalism. This nationalism is central to Modi’s political legitimacy. He’s not simply saying, “I’m going to dismantle checks and balances,” but rather, “I’m going to dismantle these institutions in order to achieve the goal of creating a Hindu nation.” This idea of a Hindu nation, in his view, would restore agency to the true majority of India.
Jeffrey C. Isaac: I agree with the two previous interventions. I have three thoughts to add, and I’ve had the chance to organize them since I’m speaking third. When you first asked your question, listing a variety of factors—economics, culture, demographics, fragile institutions—I was initially inclined to say yes to all of them.
I think we can all agree that the situation is very complex and overdetermined—there’s no single factor that explains either the global trend or the situation within any of the distinct countries. I want to make two points. First, the US case is quite different. In many ways, the US stands apart. Until recently, most political scientists, historians, and commentators viewed the US as a highly consolidated democracy. In historical terms, it was often considered more consolidated than India or Turkey, though that’s a complicated question.
In the US, with Trumpism and the MAGA Republican movement, there are certainly parallels to what we’ve seen with Modi and Erdoğan, especially in terms of ethnonationalism. It’s true that Trump was reelected. But it’s still too early to say we are in a situation of one-party hegemony in the US. It’s possible, but not certain. Trump won, then Biden won, and now he’s back. Who knows what will happen next?
In 2017, I wrote a piece about Viktor Orbán’s speeches, in which I questioned whether illiberal democracy is even possible, or if it is inevitably authoritarian. I do think that illiberal democracy is possible as a project. However, in practice, it may become authoritarian.
Liberal democracy, as we understand it, is clearly on the defensive. Many people in the electorate believe that the authoritarian, populist, ethnonationalist leaders they are electing represent the will of the people.
Take Trump, for example. Many Trump voters believed they were actually defending democracy. While Trump is often antiliberal, racist, and xenophobic, it’s also true that his central message is that the election was stolen from the people. He claims to stand for the people, arguing that he is reclaiming both electoral and cultural legitimacy. So he positions himself as a democratic leader. He criticizes the Biden administration for weaponizing undemocratic federal powers against conservatives.
I agree with Pratap that we need to consider different understandings of democracy. We also need to think about whether it’s possible to defend liberal democracy in this context. Personally, I’m pessimistic.
Frazier: Building on the conversation so far, one phrase that has come up is “institutional capture,” which I’m still trying to fully understand. It happens in different ways and with different power alignments, but what’s puzzling is how we end up with institutions like the courts, parliament, legislatures, media, and civil society gradually capitulating to an elected leader. As Senem pointed out, this often happens over time, but what’s the dynamic behind the loss of what political scientists call “horizontal accountability”? This refers to the ability of institutions to act as checks on the prime minister’s office or the presidency. Why do these institutions begin to give way? What actors, agencies, or forms of power are responsible for this gradual capture? It’s important to note that the real consequences of this process often take 10 years to fully show.
Aydin-Düzgit: I’d like to comment on what Pratap and Jeffrey just said. I understand the pessimism, and I share the sentiment. However, I think we should also consider the Turkish context. The current government has been in power for over 20 years, though it wasn’t always like this. Despite this long rule, about half of the Turkish population remains strongly opposed to the government, considering it both undemocratic and illegitimate.
This shows that we should be careful when looking at how populations view democracy. Not everyone is on the same page. These are highly polarizing figures, and polarization itself is a strategy of divide and rule. We can talk about the basis of this polarization, which in some cases is similar across countries. For example, I see important parallels between the United States and Turkey, and a global polarization study we did with Carnegie a few years ago showed that these two countries were among the most similar cases.
In such a polarized environment, it’s still possible to win elections due to majoritarianism, state capture, and so on, while nearly half the country strongly opposes the government’s understanding of democracy. However, supporters of the government come from various backgrounds. Some are aware of the shift toward authoritarianism but don’t mind it, because they benefit economically.
Others, however, believe this is democracy at work because they can vote every four years. For them, as long as they aren’t denied this right, they don’t see institutional capture as a problem. They might even think that what’s happening now is no different from what the previous government did 20 years ago.
This ties into the dynamics of polarization that we need to explore further. As Pratap pointed out, some core voters see the elevation of Turkey’s or India’s global status as a positive outcome—and the status of the people is being elevated, not just domestically, but internationally as well.
No wonder that leaders like Modi or Erdoğan carefully position themselves as prominent world figures on the emerging multipolar stage. Perhaps that kind of links us into the question as well: It’s all about making a people “great again.” Right?
However, I want to return to the topic of institutional capture, especially in the Turkish context, though similar patterns can be observed in Hungary. In Turkey, institutional capture—particularly of the courts—has been a gradual process. It began around 2010 with a constitutional referendum aimed at reforming the judiciary. On the surface, this referendum appeared positive, promising to make the judiciary more democratic and inclusive. The government built alliances with various societal and political groups, offering them concessions in exchange for support. Many believed in good faith that these changes were beneficial, though implementation eventually proved otherwise, facilitating gradual court stacking in favor of government interests. This was not a sudden takeover but a process through which the judicial power was systematically subordinated to the executive.
The media faced a similar situation. Initial moves included fines and court actions against specific outlets, but this was only the beginning. Over time, the ownership of the media landscape shifted, with financial pressures forcing out independent owners. Advertisers, wary of government disapproval, began to withdraw, making it difficult for oppositional media to sustain operations. Later, as the government gained tighter control of the judiciary, targeting critical media and policing speech became more routine. Today, only a handful of opposition media outlets remain.
Independent institutions within civil society are also under assault. Those not aligned with the government struggle to find funding, especially when their work touches on sensitive issues like liberal checks on executive power, human rights, or Kurdish rights. Many nongovernmental organizations now rely on external funding, though a new foreign agent law could restrict this too. Inspired by similar laws in Russia and Georgia, the proposed bill threatens to criminalize organizations receiving external funding if their work is seen as counter to state interests. This law, even if not enforced directly, creates an atmosphere of fear, where self-censorship becomes a survival mechanism.
Ultimately, institutional capture in Turkey reflects a broader pattern, where financial pressures, legal constraints, and targeted control mechanisms gradually consolidate power. This creates an environment in which both media and civil society operate under constant scrutiny, limiting their independence and stifling dissent. The process may be slow, but its cumulative effect on democracy is profound, leaving only narrow pockets of dissent.
Isaac: It’s worth reminding ourselves that liberal democracy has always been, in some ways, corrupt, that it has involved different kinds of state capture, as lobbyists and corporations have been able to exert influence on the civil servants in the bureaucracies of the administrative state. In America, there has never been a pure democracy, by design: The federal constitution still functions, as it was originally intended, to thwart majorities.
I think that’s a really important part of the story—the vulnerability of a liberal constitution that allows people like Trump to say, “I’m not undermining democracy. I’m restoring the power of the people; I’m rescuing them from liberal tyrants.”
Mehta: Jeffrey has brilliantly articulated the story here. I think it’s important to underscore the loss of legitimacy of the previous regime. People simply did not trust that liberal institutions were benefitting ordinary citizens, they doubted that unelected bureaucratic experts were always telling them the truth. It’s difficult to call out Mr. Trump for lying, when liberal presidents have lied about war time and time again—something that the war in Vietnam made very visible.
I also agree with Senem, that it’s not that there isn’t political space to resist this. Even in India, 55 to 60 percent of voters are still open to voting for other parties. It’s just that the alternative forces, if all they promise is a return to the status quo, find it a very hard sell, for the reasons Jeffrey describes.
Another important feature, particularly in the Indian case (and similar to Turkey), is that consolidation is gradual. These regimes are clever. They don’t rely on brute force: no mass arrests of hundreds of thousands, as during the Emergency in the 1970s. Instead, they choose a few selected targets that send a broad message. They operate in a way where, technically, they’re not guilty of egregious repression.
This approach makes use of public order law and exemplary targeting. It’s an incredible form of social control and has, unfortunately, been quite successful. In India, as in Turkey, a large part of the elite has thrown its weight behind this authoritarianism, which has been key to controlling the information order.
The media landscape in India tells this story well: It’s not driven by market competition. If we had genuine market competition in media, we would have a more diverse landscape. Instead, large numbers of Indian capitalists are willing to bankroll channels that disseminate an authoritarian ideology.
There’s another point I want to make, especially given the results of recent US elections. One thing that surprised many was the widening of Trump’s social base. This is now a much more multiracial, multiethnic mandate than previously thought possible. The same is true in India, and it presents a major challenge for leftwing and centrist politics.
When we think of checks and balances, we tend to think of two kinds. One is institutional—the constitution, judiciary, bureaucracy. What happened to the judiciary and bureaucracy is exactly as Senem described. The Indian judiciary, for instance, was one of the first institutions to cave, essentially institutionalizing majoritarianism.
Among liberals and the Left, there was also a sense that cleavages, whether of class or social identity, will help limit the power of the Right. In India, the assumption was that different groups, such as Dalits or “backward” castes, would predictably vote for the center or Left.
However, none of these are natural affinities; they’re always the result of political mobilization. The Left and center have been surprised to find that what they believed to be natural checks on the power of the far right do not actually exist.
If you look at caste voting patterns in India, Mr. Modi’s great achievement was to transform the BJP from an upper caste party and mobilize lots and lots of Dalit votes.
Isaac: This issue taps into deeper cultural dimensions within the communicative sphere. One way to approach this is to ask how the center-left, or even the center itself, could rethink the concept of identities to foster a more cohesive collective identity—one that could ultimately prevail. For example, if we consider the US, what would be the equivalent of a “centrist Trump”?
It’s intriguing to imagine: Would someone like Taylor Swift run? And I’m not being flippant; charismatic leadership plays a significant role here, along with the weakening of traditional party structures. The Right has evolved beyond being merely a party. It has morphed into a new form of collective actor, driven by a cult of personality, authoritarian populist rhetoric, and something distinct from traditional partisanship.
This shift poses a challenge for the Left, whose values do not align with this approach. Could a figure like Bernie Sanders replicate that kind of charisma-driven mobilization? It’s difficult to imagine. In this media and cultural environment, replicating the effect of a charismatic, demagogic leader—without resorting to demagoguery—is a serious challenge. Demagoguery itself has a social, communicative, and cultural base that the Left may find challenging to tap into authentically.
Frazier: This conversation so far has explored polarization through Senem’s insights and through the perspectives of Pratap and Jeff on the shifting foundations of popular support. They highlight the flawed assumptions held by the left and center regarding the political preferences of certain groups, which were previously seen as fixed, or at least stable.
This brings us to the question of the newly created popular base of support for illiberal executives. Do these governments face any pressure to deliver specific types of goods—whether symbolic or material? And, perhaps more crucially, is there a risk of alienating their base if certain grievances, economic or otherwise, go unaddressed?
In other words, this raises the question of whether we are witnessing a true realignment. Would such an illiberal democratic coalition remain durable even if these leaders fail to deliver tangible benefits? This question of stability and realignment is essential in understanding the dynamics of modern political coalitions and the endurance of these shifts in popular support.
Aydin-Düzgit: I fully agree with some of the points Jeffrey and Pratap have made, and I think they connect to the question of popular support in different ways. First, there’s the issue of resentment, which takes different shapes and forms across each country we’re discussing. In the Turkish case, as Jeffrey mentioned, Turkey never had a “perfect democracy” to begin with. Although there was a transition to democracy following military coups, it was never truly consolidated. A specific class—the Kemalist or Republican elite—formed an exclusive club of sorts.
This elite held a distinct ideology of Westernization and Kemalism that others were required to follow, including strict regulations on public displays of religion, such as the prohibition of headscarves in state administration, especially enforced during the 1990s. This enforcement was supported by the military, judiciary, and various parts of the bureaucracy. The resentment that grew as a result was real, not simply fabricated. This historical context made it relatively easy for Erdoğan to tap into popular resentment, framing it as a divide between “the people” and “the elite.” Erdoğan effectively positioned himself as the representative of the people, someone who looked, lived, and spoke like them, distinct from the elite who, for instance, spoke English and engaged with the international world—a contrast that resonates with many Turks who see themselves reflected in Erdoğan’s persona.
Despite his current position at the top of Turkey’s political and economic hierarchy, with control over resources, finances, patronage networks, and the state apparatus, Erdoğan continues to tap into this resentment. This religious and identity-based divide, which has existed since the republic’s founding, has become a polarizing tool for Erdoğan, forming a core support base of around 30 percent . However, the remaining votes come from different groups, and this is crucial because, in such polarized contexts, it’s often a margin of 1 to 5 percent that makes the difference, necessitating real action from Erdoğan’s administration.
In the 2023 presidential elections, for example, Turkey’s macroeconomic indicators were extremely unstable, yet the government strategically targeted specific constituencies with economic benefits to secure the votes needed for victory. They channeled financial resources to pensioners and lower income groups, temporarily boosting Erdoğan’s support, despite the long-term strain this approach placed on Turkey’s economy. The immediate goal was to surpass the 50 percent threshold to win, and it worked. The administration is now dealing with the economic fallout, but the temporary gains were enough to achieve a narrow victory.
It’s also worth examining the role of opposition in these political contexts, which often offers glimpses of hope and alternative strategies to engage the other side. For instance, the mayor of Istanbul’s first successful campaign centered around what he called “radical love”—a discourse that avoided demonizing the other side. This approach can work in polarized societies where labeling opponents as bigots or racists often backfires, pushing them further into their camps. Local elections in Istanbul and Ankara saw success not only because of the improved performance of opposition candidates but also due to their inclusive outreach, refusing to make scapegoats of people who had been supporting Erdoğan.
Some of these opposition leaders may not align with leftwing ideals—in Turkey, they are centrist populists rather than Bernie Sanders-like figures. However, they present a more prodemocratic face for now, which has resonated with urban voters in Turkey’s major cities.
Ultimately, the opposition must convince the public that they can govern better than the current administration. While citizens may experience economic hardship under the government, there’s often a perception that the current leaders, despite their faults, are more capable of resolving these issues than a discredited opposition. Local elections offer a lower stakes opportunity to try alternative leadership, but national elections come with higher risks concerning national security, economy, and foreign policy.
A strong, charismatic opposition candidate can overcome this bias, yet Turkey’s opposition struggled with this in the last election cycle, fielding a weak candidate who failed to bridge identity divides. Additionally, although theoretically united, the opposition lacked coherence and unity around core principles, presenting Erdoğan with vulnerabilities to exploit. Once voters sense an opposition incapable of maintaining cohesion in power, their support remains with the familiar government, regardless of its performance. This dynamic underscores the importance of coherence, stability, and effective leadership within opposition ranks in the face of entrenched ruling parties.
Mehta: I think elections are a game of competitive credibility, and the other side just has to be marginally better than the opposition to win. In India, the importance of local government plays a significant role. The states are much more competitive, with more turnover, offering some hope at the local level.
Regarding the social and economic basis of these regimes, a couple of points are worth considering. First, Mr. Modi, in some respects, is quite competent. He is not bad at macroeconomic management, nor at building out state capacity in significant areas. He has created something like a welfare coalition at the bottom, which even mimics the strategies that opposition parties have used in various states. In some respects, his record doesn’t invite widespread anger—though it doesn’t necessarily foster broad satisfaction either.
However, there are aspects of this economic story that remain puzzling to me. In reading about US elections, it becomes clear that voters use specific measures to evaluate their economic wellbeing, and these measures might not align with the traditional metrics we focus on, like inflation or unemployment rates. It seems the gap between what we thought was the voter’s sense of wellbeing and what they are prioritizing has shifted more than we realize. The discourse around economic wellbeing may not fully capture these changes.
Second, if you look around the world, there isn’t a single centrist politician who remains popular for long. Even Keir Starmer, who came into power with a centrist agenda, has seen his popularity plummet dramatically within two months. This trend suggests a systemic crisis in the development models used around the world. It’s not just a problem in liberal democracies; even China is struggling, as it has had to abandon the old Deng Xiaoping version of centrism.
In the Indian case, both the current government and the previous Congress government have failed to crack the question of how to generate enough high-productivity employment that leads to inclusive growth. The bottom of the economy can be supported through welfare coalitions and state interventions, but the challenge lies in the middle 60 percent—the group that seems to be stuck. This group isn’t seeing rising incomes or increased consumption, and private investment in that sector is lacking.
Interestingly, Mr. Modi has inflicted quite a bit of hardship on sectors such as small businesses, particularly through two of his major economic decisions: demonetization and the Goods and Services Tax (GST). These measures have heavily burdened micro and small enterprises, yet Modi has managed to weather the criticism. He often uses the language of sacrifice to illicit support from those affected.
Ultimately, I believe the structural conditions for economic dissatisfaction are present, and the economic performance is not strong enough to ensure stability for the current coalition. However, the opposition struggles to articulate a credible vision that doesn’t seem overly timid and tepid.
Isaac: There’s a strong degree of overall agreement in this conversation, which I find refreshing. It’s not just about people saying the same thing; it’s about deepening the discussion and articulating the same points in different ways. With that in mind, I want to briefly touch on American exceptionalism, which is often seen as a symbol of the country’s unique status. Reagan famously referred to America as the “last, best hope of freedom,” a sentiment that traces back to John Winthrop and his vision of America as a land of freedom. Certainly, since the post–World War II period, the United States has consistently claimed to be a beacon of hope, freedom, and democracy.
However, as I was listening to Pratap, I wrote down the words “American, crazy,” with “crazy” underlined.
In many ways, I believe the situation here is uniquely crazy. The fact of the matter is that Donald Trump, a failed businessman with a carnival-barking brand of self-promotion, served as president for four years and delivered almost nothing, except, perhaps, inaction during the COVID-19 pandemic, which claimed over a million lives. Despite this, large numbers of Americans, far beyond his base, believe he was good for the economy. I’m not saying the people who support him are crazy or stupid, but there’s something undeniably crazy about the extent to which many Americans buy into these ideas, particularly when they are fed narratives of imaginary enemies, such as the infamous “Haitians eating people’s pets” trope. What accounts for this?
The second level of craziness is more directly related to the individuals involved. As Pratap says, Modi is not such a bad manager of the economy, and surely he has intelligent people around him with experience. In contrast, in the United States, Matt Gaetz was briefly considered for the position of attorney general, and Tulsi Gabbard might be put in charge of national security and intelligence. Most of these individuals have no business holding such high positions in the executive branch of government. This is an incredibly risky experiment.
The situation is already dire, as the individuals being placed in positions of power are staunchly in favor of mass deportations, perhaps targeting as many as 10 million undocumented immigrants, though it might only be 2 or 3 million. And as terrifying as that is, there’s the added element of the US having the finger on the nuclear button. This is a level of unpredictability and danger that we can hardly ignore. But the reality of American politics right now, with the direction it’s heading and the people in power, is undeniably crazy.
Frazier: So what are the sources of opposition and resistance? What are the strategies? How can opposition parties, social movements, and others not only survive but maybe turn the tide back towards something more pluralistic and resembling liberal democracy—or something else to replace it?
Mehta: Nationalism has been an enabler of liberal democracy, and it’s also been its biggest consistent threat. I mean, it’s like the under-shadow of liberalism and liberal democracy. Liberalism has never had an answer to the question of membership.
To my mind, the most threatening aspect of this conjuncture is less institutional authoritarianism than the poison of ethnonationalism, of exclusion as the basis of forging an imagined community. There is a kind of politics of hate, a politics of stigmatization, a legitimizing of vigilante violence or state violence in the name of nationalism.
Most of the opposition has decided that it’s not actually going to confront this exclusionary form of ethnonationalism. To my mind, that’s a mistake and danger. I think opposition parties across the world are finding it hard to project the sense that what they’re doing, they’re doing out of some genuine conviction.
Trump and Modi are setting the agenda, and they’re not second-guessing themselves, So I think having an opposition that has the courage of its own convictions is the first minimum step.
Isaac: One of the interesting things that’s happening in the US now is Democratic governors—the governors of Democratic states—are talking among themselves and organizing. And, by the way, this also happened in 2016: strategizing for ways of resisting some of the most illiberal dimensions of Trumpism. Federalism has become a resource of the opposition that will be a basis of political opposition.
Aydin-Düzgit: I do understand that the US case is different in many ways than Turkey or India, because Modi and Erdoğan, they’re serious people. They’re quite serious statesmen. You might not agree with their politics, but they know what they’re doing, and you know, more or less, what to expect from them.
The possibility that Elon Musk is going to have power in Trump’s administration is for nothing short of a dystopia. If the US goes down that road, the ramifications for the entire world and the whole democracy agenda are 10 times higher than, let’s say, what happens in Turkey or elsewhere. So that is very concerning.
Still, in the Turkish case, the opposition has been very resilient, and this is despite the fact that we are a very centralized country, and we don’t have federalism of any kind as the US or India do. But still, that resilience has been rooted, not just societally, across the population, but also in local governments, which the opposition holds. Even though we’re not a federal system, and the local governments and administrations do not have the resources and powers that they do in federal systems, still they have been an important locus of resistance.
They adapt to the changing circumstances, they fight with the center. And I can only imagine that in federal systems, that kind of adaptation might have even more space for maneuver over time. When they learn the strategies of the central government, they can find ways of organizing resistance. There’s also an advantage in that local governments have more direct access to the people.
In fact, that is how Erdoğan rose to power despite the Kemalist establishment, because he was delivering to the poor, to the impoverished in the outskirts of Istanbul. That’s how he became popular. So you have a chance to appeal to those segments of society that become disillusioned and resentful because of socioeconomic factors.
Finally, it’s important to remember that, in the Turkish case, the government actually cares deeply about winning elections. Because they derive their legitimacy from the elections, and they fear what happens when that legitimacy is lost. These elections are not free, they’re not fair, they’re not contested on equal grounds.
But, you know, the fact that they care about the result in the end, and they’ve put so much effort into the campaign and trying to deliver just enough to get the votes, means that there is scope for opposition parties to campaign, and to compete for votes. Democratic ideals aren’t dead yet.
