Chameleon complex: Europe’s far right is mimicking the fight for stability and justice — and it’s working

Many voters in Italy and Germany see the far right’s actions as indications that the parties are prepared to shake up the system. The Alternative for Germany (AfD) deploys this weapon particularly actively. Although the statements of some of its figures ultimately led to their expulsion from the party group in the European Parliament and caused condemnation from the wider German public, for the AfD’s voters — 15.89% in the EP elections in June — such rhetoric serves as proof of difference from the “other parties” and a rejection of generally accepted liberal democratic traditions.

In the countries of Central and Eastern Europe, which have experienced large-scale socio-economic transformations since the early 1990s, parties that promise a return to “traditional values” — in essence, a return to the past — are in high demand. But for all the differences in the political culture and developmental paths across the continent, there is a common matrix that explains the growing support for the far right in Europe.

General frustration and growing fear

Although surveys show that in many countries citizens have become more liberally minded minded regarding abortion, divorce, premarital sex, and attitudes to foreigners, events of the last five years have made them more intolerant of crises. European voters, who are not accustomed to dealing with extreme situations, experience growing fear and, as a result, have become increasingly devoted to the ideas of control and order.

The famous Brexit slogan “Take Back Control” has become a harbinger of change. As crises multiply, voters — like swimmers clinging to buoys in a stormy sea — increasingly put their faith in aspiring leaders who promise to “take back control.”

As crises multiply, voters increasingly put their faith in those who promise to “take back control.”

The EU and national governments can argue to their hearts’ content that they have protected their citizens from the worst effects of Covid by distributing vaccines and developing a massive economic recovery package, that they are trying to shield people as much as possible from the consequences of the energy crisis caused by Russian aggression in Ukraine, and that the European Green Deal program is a key tool in the fight against climate change. But none of the above seems to carry much weight in the eyes of voters. On the contrary, it is taken as talk of helping those less fortunate than they are — but not of helping them.

For most voters, life has become more difficult and increasingly uncertain. Porous borders, interdependence among states, talk of broken supply chains, and reforms imposed on traditional industries such as agriculture and fisheries are seen by citizens as signs of inevitable decline against the backdrop of rising powers like China, which dictate their will through economic power. In such situations, political rhetoric about exerting fantastic levels of control — closing borders to foreigners, taking measures to cut costs, and providing guaranteed protection — becomes much more attractive than calls for change and adaptation aimed at maintaining a status quo that is far from ideal.

The debate over whether the rise of populist parties is driven by economic concerns or a sense of “cultural exclusion” has raged for many years. It is easy to feel lost and abandoned by changing norms and increasing diversity in one’s environment, and such resentment fuels cross-cultural conflicts. In Europe, accusations of “wokeism” are less common than in the United States, but in some countries — Poland, Hungary — the rejection of liberal norms in favor of traditional values has become the main driver of the popularity of right-wing radicals.

What is the extreme right pushing for?

In most Western European countries, rejection of liberal norms has crystallized around the denial of the rights of “others” — especially migrants. The ideological struggle is waged mainly against the elites, who are said to support mass migration both because they do not suffer from the resulting increased burden on public services and because they benefit from the influx of cheap labor.

In most Western European countries, rejection of liberal norms has crystallized around the denial of the rights of “others” — especially migrants

At the same time, voting for right-wing populists also has an economic dimension. Even in countries with strong mechanisms for wealth redistribution, growing income inequality, stagnating wages, and difficulties accessing housing — a key factor in countries such as the Netherlands and Portugal — fuel discontent with authorities who are perceived to have abandoned the middle class to their fate.

If we add to this the irritation resulting from the decreased quality of government services, marked by limited access to health care and disruptions in the provision of public works, a feeling of economic desolation sets in. The exact details vary from country to country, but the idea that they are being treated as second-class citizens is widespread among Europeans and is driven in part by growing inequality in both income and access to benefits. Because of this, it turns out to be rather easy to fabricate a discourse in which migrants are seen as receiving too much from a state that has ceased to care about its own people.

It is easy to fabricate a discourse in which migrants are seen as receiving too much from a state that has stopped caring about its own people

The current proposals of the mainstream parties — aimed not so much at improving the situation, but at preventing things from getting worse — are not remotely attractive to those whose daily lives have become a struggle. As a result, people have become less tolerant of complex political maneuvers and decisions that they perceive as failures. They distrust technocratic governments, which they believe give too little and demand too much. Both at the national and EU level, the rejection of an elite that is out of touch with the real concerns of voters is an important element of public sentiment.

The media tirelessly portrays the ideal citizen — one whose identity fits seamlessly with the country’s traditional values — and the ideal leader who can direct the collective will of the people. Traditional tabloid-type media, along with social networks, have created the opportunity for the expression of only polarized opinions, which gradually isolates people from the diversity of the rest of the spectrum, sealing them into ever tighter boundaries. They promote a collective intolerance for the slow, procedural, technocratic world of politics, as distinct from the accessible, malleable, and responsive world of social media.

It is not surprising that parties that promise to listen, simplify, and understand all the intricacies of everyday problems while offering quick solutions attract the support of so many voters. But perhaps most important is the populists’ promise to enact policies that will make diagnoses and take action quickly, with little regard for the consequences.

The focus of such rhetoric is on the daily lives of ordinary people, rather than on strategic policy planning. The emotional hooks of right-wing populism are more compelling than the technocratic solutions of well-meaning liberals. Populists’ proposals appear to be common sense, and their proponents give voters hope. The promise to take control of everything is a balm for the soul of a supporter of traditional values.

Right-wing parties focus their rhetoric on the daily lives of ordinary people, rather than on strategic policy planning.

One of the main questions is why it is right-wing populists, and not socialists or social democrats, who are capitalizing on people’s need for emotional politics. If we look at where populist parties have succeeded, it becomes clear that the key to their rise lies in the disappearance of a left-wing alternative that recognizes both economic imperatives and fears related to status and identity.

In France and Italy, the collapse of once-powerful communist parties left a vacuum that was never filled by social democratic or socialist parties, whose support base was more white-collar than blue-collar. It is not surprising that the heyday of these parties came in the late 1980s and early 1990s, after which the left turned towards a third way, leaving behind many of its traditional commitments. Marine Le Pen’s National Rally, for example, has effectively taken over the former strongholds of leftist parties in the north and east of deindustrialized France.

The proposal of the “National Rally” on the eve of France’s early parliamentary elections boiled down to economic redistribution, reducing the cost of living, and increasing the minimum wage. In this sense, Le Pen’s program coincides with the position of the alliance of left forces, but has the added value of xenophobia and “identity politics.”

Switching to the problem of redistribution of wealth while abandoning its past use of racist and extremist roots have allowed right-wing movements to expand their electoral base and replace socialist or social democratic parties to the point that many have essentially become mainstream.

Mainstream: movement to the right

Most of the far-right parties, with the possible exception of the AfD, have worked hard to create a more “decent” image for themselves. Marine Le Pen herself did everything possible to exorcize the racist and anti-Semitic ghost of her father, softening both her image and rhetoric.

Marine Le Pen has done everything she can to exorcize the racist and anti-Semitic ghost of her father from the party.

By bringing in a new young leader, Jordan Bardella, she symbolically severed ties with the old National Rally. Italy’s Giorgia Meloni, in turn, combined the post-fascist tradition with a modern view of a party led by a woman — this in a country and party dominated by “strong men.”