Tag: authoritarianism

Taking Democracy for Granted

[This is a guest post by Valerie J. Bunce, the Aaron Binenkorb Chair of International Studies at Cornell University, and Mark R. Beissinger, the Henry W. Putnam Professor of Politics at Princeton University. After Aida Hozic shared the essay with me, I asked Valerie and Mark if I could post it at the Duck. They kindly agreed. I think it is one of the clearest—and most succinct—statements of why we should be worried and vigilant about the fate of US institutions.]

How might American democracy end? The United States would not be the first long-lasting government to collapse. Whether they supported communism or not, those who lived under it assumed, in Alexei Yurchak’s words, that communism was forever—until it was no more.   Developments in the United States bear an uncomfortable resemblance to those that fore-shadowed the decline of democracy elsewhere in the world (Poland, Hungary, and Russia, and earlier, Latin America in the 1960s and interwar Europe).

There are three pieces to the puzzle of why and how democracies fail. The first involves public opinion. In Russia, for example, growing public worries about crime and social disorder, economic collapse, and national security paved the way for the rise of a leader who promised political order, economic growth, and strong government—in short, making Russia great again. In many instances of democratic collapse, there was a decline in tolerance, as publics grew more polarized, more locked into their own views and into networks of like-minded people, and more distrustful of and angry at each other and the government. There was a thirst for new styles in politics, flamboyant rhetoric, and a willingness to gamble. Citizens voted for change; they did not vote to end democracy.

The second piece is dysfunctional political institutions. Just as the rise of Victor Orbán in Hungary was preceded by the collapse of the party system, so too was the rise of Hitler and Mussolini foreshadowed by prolonged parliamentary paralysis. In failing democracies, public trust in political institutions declines, and government can no longer fulfill the basic tasks expected of it. In the American case, there is ample evidence of such trends—from the Republican obstruction and gridlock in Congress to repeated attempts to shut the government down. Little wonder that trust in Congress has plummeted to the mid-20 percent level since 2010.  Mistrust of government is contagious, poisoning democratic processes. Echoing Trump’s rants about a “rigged system,” nearly a half of all registered voters believe that voter fraud occurs somewhat or very often in the United States, despite ample evidence to the contrary.

The final piece of the puzzle is the role of politicians in terminating democracy. As Nancy Bermeo reminds us, it is political leaders that end democracy, not angry publics or dysfunctional institutions. But how leaders have taken down democracy has changed over time. During the interwar years and the Cold War, democracy tended to end through military coups or declarations of national emergency. By contrast, contemporary would-be autocrats have played a more subtle game, undermining democracy from within. Claiming to have the support of the people (and therefore the right to use all means necessary to defend the nation), they use legislation, appointment powers, and informal interventions to whittle away at checks-and-balances, the rule of law, and civil liberties.

The elections that bring these dangerous leaders to power typically feature an electorate composed of large numbers of alienated, floating voters. All of the candidates have unusually high unfavorability ratings (which depresses voter turnout, skewing the representativeness of the electorate), and the choice confronting voters boils down to supporting experienced but compromised establishment politicians or risky outsiders. Outsider-politicians exploit public disgust with politics, attack their opponents in personal rather than policy terms, make grandiose promises, and talk of a return to the good old days by restoring the culture, society, and status of the past.

Most important is their claim to defend the nation. This is a perfect issue for ambitious amateur politicians because it plays so well to public fears about national security, personal security, and cultural diversity. Being for the nation, like being for economic growth and against crime and polio, is a valence issue—there is only one acceptable position. The costs of nationalist tropes for democracy are many. They give candidates a license to avoid talking about policy. They silence the opposition, since it cannot possibly come out against the nation. They sow divisions among the public. But perhaps their greatest danger is that they give rise to the demand for strong leadership—leaders who will do anything to defend the nation from its enemies.

To those who view American politics as exceptional, Trump is an anomaly that is difficult to explain. To us, his politics are disconcertingly familiar.

— Valerie J. Bunce and Mark R. Beissinger



In Domestic and Foreign Affairs, ‘It’s the Institutions, Stupid’

american-839775_1920[tl;dr: This is a ~3.5k word essay on why the biggest threat posed by a Trump Presidency is to liberal-republican institutions at home and abroad. It suggests placing specific policy debates  on the back burner in favor of forming and maintaining a broad political coalition—one aimed at preserving those two aspects of American liberal order.  In brief, you can always change tax rates, but once democratic institutions and America’s web of international partnerships are gone, they will be monumentally difficult to put back together. Focusing on this kind of action is a matter of prudence; one hopes that it proves unnecessary. The essay does not discuss the fate of democracy in other countries, although that too remains a major concern. The piece collects and synthesizes arguments that I have made in other social media, most notably Twitter.]


A number of people are now sharing stories about Trump and his circle with the caption “This is not normal.” The pieces range widely in subject matter. They range from  apparent purges of insufficiently loyal members of Trump’s transition team to Kansas Secretary of State—and transition-team member—Kris Kobach’s discussion of “drafting a proposal for his consideration to reinstate a registry for immigrants from Muslim countries.”

They are right: none of this is normal.

My wager in this post is that Trump’s election may amount to an inflection point in the institutional fabric of our political system. And by this, I do not simply mean our domestic republican institutions. I also mean the broadly liberal-republican international order constructed after World War II.  Indeed, these two sets of institutions are profoundly bootstrapped to one another. This dual threat amounts to the greatest challenge to the American experiment since the early years of the Cold War.

The nature of this challenge requires us to set aside normal politics. It requires a broad coalition—of liberals, progressives, conservatives, libertarians, and moderates—to come together with the purpose of monitoring and protecting the health of those institutions. Such a coalition will fail if it becomes divided by policy differences. At this moment, many of the standard debates—about taxes, the level of economic regulation, and size of the defense budget, and so forth—are of secondary importance. Indeed, their elevation to existential concerns helped bring us to this point.


As I’ve argued on Twitter, most Americans—and academics—operate with the assumption that political institutions are sticky. Once constructed, they prove difficult to radically transform—in the absence of huge shocks such as revolutions, wars, and economic collapse. And, in many respects, that’s a reasonable assumption. Institutions structure political competition and cooperation, create vested interests, and otherwise generate their own mechanisms of perpetuation.

In the American system, we have multiple “veto points” spread across our Courts, Congress, and the Presidency. Our federal system devolves a fair amount of authority to the states, making top-down change harder than, say, in France. Indeed, France is on its Fifth Republic, but the United States has enjoyed the same fundamental law—its constitution—since 1789. On top of that, we have a complex, professional bureaucracy that requires immense knowledge and willpower to set in a radically different trajectory.

All of these factors may rightly provide reason to discount my alarmism (and I am being deliberately alarmist). But this is not a good year to bet on the stability of liberal-democratic institutions. The Philippines, with its wave of extra-judicial killings and the deaths of elected officials, is seeing rapid democratic backsliding. Turkey looks in danger of quickly moving through the hybrid-regime phase into outright autocracy.

Americans generally look at democratic backsliding as something that happens “to other people.” As the well-known phrase itself calls into question, we believe that “it can’t happen here.”

But underneath the trappings of continuity—a longstanding continuous currency, the US Constitution, and the like—the United States has indeed undergone radical change. In practical terms, American institutions look almost nothing like they did prior to the Civil War.


Consider this way of thinking about the first 190 years of American political development: We first tried a confederation. We quickly gave up on that and built a semi-centralized federation. That federation collapsed into civil war. The victors established a more centralized federation. We further struggled over the terms of central authority through the Great Depression, the New Deal, and World War II. The post-war period saw the combination of a more national-state apparatus combined with a regional race-based hybrid regime. The Federal Government, pushed by a great social movement, ended many of the institutional props of those regional apartheid systems.

Moreover, during the long nineteenth century, the United States was a continental empire. It established settler colonies and displaced indigenous inhabitants. After the Spanish-American War, the US explicitly established an overseas empire. Vestiges of those empires still remain, even if many of the territories of the first became part of the American federation.greateramericamap

We could discuss many more examples. In fact, the history of ethnic, religious, and racial inclusion and exclusion itself supplies a great deal more empirical material. But all of this evidence would all point in the same direction: beneath the superficial stability of the American system—beneath its apparent equilibrium—lies great political instability and ongoing transformation.


The same is true of the post-war liberal international order, including the World Bank, the United Nations (UN), the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). To these, and other, institutions we might add more recent ones, such as the World Trade Organization (WTO), the European Union (EU), and the EU’s predecessor agreements and institutions.  Beyond these ‘named’ organizations lies a host of relationships, networks, partnerships, and alliances. In this diplomatic and military web, the US is at least primus inter pares. Continue reading


Autonomous Weapons and Incentives for Oppression

Much of the present debate over autonomous weapons systems (AWS) focuses on their use in war. On one side, scholars argue that AWS will make war more inhumane (Asaro, 2012), that the decision to kill must be a human being’s choice (Sharkey, 2010), or that they will make war more likely because conflict will be less costly to wage with them (Sparrow, 2009). On the other side, scholars argue that AWS will make war more humane, as the weapons will be greater at upholding the principles of distinction and proportionality (Müller and Simpson, 2014), as well as providing greater force protection (Arkin, 2009). I would, however, like to look at different dimension: authoritarian regimes’ use of AWS for internal oppression and political survival.

Continue reading


Whither the Praetorian State?

As part of a forthcoming project to re-assess the analytical relevance of the concept of the “praetorian state” in contemporary South Asian and Middle Eastern politics, I’ve been fascinated by tracing the history of the phrase.

Although the term “praetor” or “Praetorian Guard” entered the English language from accounts of Roman history in the 13th century, the taxonomic concept (specifically as a Weberian ideal type) of the “praetorian state” first emerged after political upheavals following the Great Depression.  Max Lerner argued in 1942, for example, that a socialist state that becomes totalitarian indulges in the instabilities associated with praetorian states: a succession of garrisons and adventurist leaders (Lerner 1942, 44).  For the most part, however, Lerner associated the concept with the aggressive imperialism of fascism (Lerner 1942, 50). It is notable that while the modern concept of the praetorian state originated in discussions of what were then contemporary European regime types, in the post-war period the concept would only be applied to “underdeveloped states” that were striving toward “modernization.”

Chart 1: Google N-gram history of the phrase “praetorian state” in English language books and journals

Shortly after 1960 the phrase began to increase in usage  — although still clearly an obscure and technical term (see the Y axis in chart 1 which shows the prevalence of this two-word term or “bi-gram” out of all bi-grams in approximately 5 million books) — reaching a peak in the mid-seventies.  Of course, the concept was never as popular as other ideal type categories of authoritarian states such as the “garrison state” or “caudillismo” (see chart below).

Chart 2: Google N-gram history of the phrases praetorian state (blue), garrison state (red), and caudillismo (green) in English language books and journals

In 1961, L.N. McAlister used the phrase to describe a type of regime in Latin America characterized by “the frequent overthrow of governments by military revolutions or coups d’etat for nonmilitary purposes.”  McAlister added, “It tends to be associated with a high degree of social and political disorganization and  a low degree of professionalism within the armed forces,” (McAlister 1961, 343).  McAlister meant to distinguish the concept from both a Gendarmist State (a state in which a dictator or caudillo tames the military and uses it as a gendarmery to maintain power) and Harold Laswell’s concept of the “Garrison State” (a state in which the military attempts to militarize the state and society at large). What is of interest here is the notion that a praetorian state in 1961 was associated with a lack of professionalism in the military.

A separate school of thought which emerged around the same time is associated with David C. Rapoport and Samuel Huntington. In 1962, Rapoport published an essay — based in part on the ideas of his often cited but unpublished 1960 doctoral dissertation at Berkeley — titled “A Comparative Theory of Military Political Types” in Samuel Huntington’s Changing Patterns of Military Politics (1962) in which he used the phrase “praetorian state” to describe a military that maintains the rule of an oligarchy. Huntington would popularize Rapoport’s category a few years later in an essay in World Politics titled “Political Development and Political Decay,” in which Huntington likened the concept of the praetorian state to the Hellenic concept of the corrupt society. For Huntington, a praetorian society is characterized by political instability that oscillates between absolute monarchy and wild democracy and serves as “… the hallmark of a society where mobilization has outrun institutionalization,” (Huntington 1965, 417).

Building on the work of McAlister, Rapoport & Huntington, Amos Perlmutter significantly developed and refined the concept. His 1969 essay in Comparative Politics, “The Praetorian State and the Praetorian Army: Toward a Taxonomy of Civil-Military Relations in Developing Polities,” (which was based on an earlier article he had published in 1967 and a World Politics article on the Israeli Army he had published in 1968) helped to transform the concept by forgoing Rapoport’s emphasis on constitutionalism, consensus, and authority. In particular, Perlmutter emphasized the notion of the military as a core institution that supplies the political leadership of a society. He laid out the political and social conditions which contribute to praetorianism, placing the relevance of the concept in the “early and middle stages of modernization and political mobilization,” (Perlmutter 1969, 384). Perlmutter also created a differentiation between aribitrator-type praetorian armies and ruler-type praetorian armies.  Notably, the former type was considered to be more professionally oriented — thus broadening McAlister’s formulation to include professionalized militaries (Perlmutter 1969, 392).

[For contemporary South Asia scholars, it is notable that Pakistan, which is today considered by many scholars to be a quintessentially praetorian state, was not considered to be praetorian by scholars applying Rapoport’s defintion (Wilcox 1965. 150).]

However the popularity of the concept appears to have declined after the end of the Cold War. So… why did it decline? At this point I don’t really have an answer. If pushed, I would hypothesize (along the lines of Partha Chatterjee 1974) that the need to understand and distinguish between highly nuanced types of authoritarian regimes (i.e our sons-of-bitches from their sons-of-bitches) and to advocate for “political stability” during the process of socio-economic change to prevent a communist revolution became irrelevant to bourgeois scholars with the third wave of democratization and the triumphalist tone in support of liberal democracy and capitalism that emerged at the end of the Cold War… but that is only a guess.

In any case, with the new wave of popular unrest and insurgency in the Middle East and South Asia, it is clear that many scholars will be monitoring civil-military relations carefully and hence this concept may once again become prominent to explain the lingering or emerging impediments to democratization.


Egypt Rises Up

Do we?

Tomorrow is slated to be a showdown between the US backed Mubarak regime and masses of Egyptian protesters. It is a critical moment for Egypt, and also for the Arab nation.

What strikes me about these events, is the general way in which the discourse of “reform” continues to be the official American mantra (at least where there is not out right denial of the authoritarian nature of the regime in Egypt). After decades of supporting a dictatorship, the US government continues to claim that the Mubarak regime needs only to reform to retain power and address the legitimate anger of the Egyptian people. Of course, part of the reason that the regime has resisted political opening is strong US support, particularly whenever the prospect of an increase in Islamist representation in the government is raised.

Regardless of whether the Mubarak regime is finally toppled, it is time for Americans, as a people, to engage in a serious discussion of the long term costs and benefits to the American people of having our government prop up authoritarian regimes.


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