When the self-proclaimed "coolest president in the world" swaggered before the press in El Salvador in 2023 donning a baseball cap and jeans to open the "largest and most modern mega-prison in Latin America", he already enjoyed broad support in society. Such superlatives continue to captivate: El Salvador is finally somebody. It is no longer gang crime and poverty catapulting it into the international press, but strength and new beginnings - personified by President Nayib Bukele. He has the majority of the population behind him in the "state's fight against criminal gangs" - even though thousands upon thousands have been imprisoned without any legal basis.
"Punitive populism" in El Salvador has long been part of the authoritarian playbook of the global right. So much so that just a few days after Donald Trump took office, Bukele offered not only to accept the deportation of his own citizens from the USA, but also to take in hardened criminals - whether US citizens or not - in Salvadoran prisons. The US administration was thrilled: "In a heartbeat", Trump and Foreign Minister Marco Rubio chimed: they would accept the offer if there were no legal hurdles.
Outsourcing the penal system rhymes with the logic of the US government. Reports of mass deportations and videos of vigilante groups denouncing undocumented migrants have been conjuring up images of cruelty while fuelling the fantasies of an omnipotent repressive state. The opening of the "mega prison" in El Salvador was also accompanied by considerable media fanfare. At the heart of it all: demeaning, dehumanising images of prisoners. An exhibition, almost a tutorial in violence, which met with widespread approval and only faint opposition from the populace. How can this gusto for punishment and humiliation be explained?
The surge in toxic masculinity
Trump and Bukele unshackle their supporters from the feeling of not making a difference, of being irrelevant. They make people feel like they have (re)conquered the front ranks of society that others - migrants, welfare recipients or women - had supposedly robbed them of. What we are witnessing is an authoritarianism from below driven by a desire for revenge. Fury at their own impotence and the sense of no longer being important in society has found an outlet in the public humiliation of others.
It is no coincidence that young white men in particular feel lifted by this affective surge. An aura of strength and a tough-guy approach ends all the suffering from a lingering suspicion that their supremacy might be at risk. Heterosexism ranging all the way to toxic levels of masculinity are experiencing a real boom in times of crisis. When patriarchal fancies of male superiority are shaken, misogyny soars as does hostility towards all those who question these notions - especially women and queers. This is the retribution and vengeance of the affronted macho man who can only bow down and submit to his fancified notions of a strong leader.
This example shows that more coercion often does not mean less consensus - on the contrary, the authoritarian restructuring of state and society is enjoying enormous, growing popularity. Spinoza's question as to why people fight for their servitude as if it were their salvation would appear more insistent and pressing today than ever before: reactionary discourses and ideologies of inequality are ascendant worldwide, the anti-democratic attributes of neoliberal states and societies are becoming ever more apparent, while domination and exploitation are becoming increasingly brutal. This is on open display in the punitive populism of El Salvador as well as the tutorial of violence in the USA.
Belonging to the strongest
Authoritarianism is a project from above. However, its measures and methods are complemented and enabled from below: through the call for order and a "firm hand". In Argentina, President Javier Milei's cuts in social spending by almost a third have caused poverty to soar to record levels. Nevertheless, support for his policies remains stable - at least 40 percent. The stigmatisation of poverty is effective. Added to this is the notion of total individual freedom void of society as well as the fear of having something taken away by other groups.
Milei demonstrates that politics under radical neoliberal auspices degenerates into a pure assertion of interests and is no longer understood as a realm for negotiation. This promotes the desire to be among the strongest, amongst those who can push through their agenda with the greatest possible rigour and harshness, even if they are not necessarily pursuing the same direct interests.
When the democratic practice of negotiation begins to wane, the next problem presents itself: when people's subjective experiences of injustice or disadvantage are not echoed in public debates or political action, their feeling of powerlessness grows. Affective behaviour and emotions take the place of arguments. As a result, the right-wing backlash remains a project from above. It is supported across social strata, however, by an authoritarian desire that seeks and demands racist, anti-feminist and anti-egalitarian answers to social problems.
Where does the call for order come from?
Authoritarian longing is dominated by a desire for order. Along these lines, the American anthropologist Arlie Hochschild traces a picture of people standing in a queue: they are waiting in line to realise their dreams. But they do not feel like they are getting any closer to the dream, even though they have struggled throughout their lives. To blame are those who have pushed in front of them: Migrants, women and queer people, black people, "climate terrorists" and welfare recipients. Depending on the particular context, they are blamed for economic crises, purported security problems or falling birth rates. The picture shows that the neoliberal promise of prosperity for each and every individual, if only they try hard enough, could never be fulfilled. At the same time, it is easier to blame those pushing ahead in line for everything instead of acknowledging that this promise itself was always foul right from the start.
Inequality is mounting and the "precarisation" of everyday life - due to rising rents, having to take on debt to pay school fees or the burden of soaring food prices - is skyrocketing. Public infrastructures of social reproduction are under massive pressure: belt-tightening in the health sector, pension reforms, schools, daycare centres and counselling services that have been cut to the bone are all signs of an erosion of services of general interest. All of these services are essential, however, as they make it possible to satisfy social and emotional needs and hold a society together. At the same time, rents and the cost of living are on the rise, while incomes are being eroded by inflation. When the infrastructures of social reproduction plunge into crisis, social conflicts intensify. Attempts to compensate for the resulting gaps lead to exhaustion, illness, overwork, a loss in the quality of care or the emergence of new gaps.
Although crises have a very different impact on people in different parts of the world, patterns can be identified when inequality swells and the precarisation of everyday life intensifies. Feelings of isolation, fear, stress and powerlessness become more salient, fuelling conflicts over distribution and access. These have of course always existed before. They are increasingly penetrating everyday life, however, destabilising social bonds and pulsating into an individualised society in which, after 30 years of neoliberalism, the concept of self-responsibility has prevailed. According to the sociologist Firoozeh Farvardin, the longing for order is a response to neoliberal governments' failure to ensure social reproduction. Currently rampaging global authoritarianism is therefore a "crisis of crisis management".
Resistance from the periphery
Answers to the current crises are not to be found at home alone. We need to engage with experiences and interpretations in those regions of the world where authoritarianism, violence and oppression are much more advanced. We can learn a great deal from the periphery when it comes to how people get involved and organise to resist authoritarian attacks on democratic and social rights.
In Argentina, for example, mothers looking for their children who disappeared during the military dictatorship are joining forces with others to struggle against patriarchal violence in the Ni Una Menos movement. Together, they have been instrumental in organising general strikes in recent months to protest Milei's rightist-libertarian government policies.
In Kenya as well, discontent over autocratic tendencies sparked nationwide protests cutting across social strata. Mass protests broke out in the summer of 2024 due to a looming tax reform. IMF loan programs had already caused the country to accumulate massive debt as far back as in the 1980s. Structural adjustments exacerbated the impact of the austerity policy that was then imposed, and youth unemployment has skyrocketed to 67%. Against this backdrop, Kenya recently experienced a wave of femicidal violence, triggering widespread outrage and fuelling feminist demands, including land rights for women and to make feminicide a criminal offense. The protests were targeted in equal measure against the government, the West and the patriarchy.
The events in Kenya can be added to the list of recent political upheavals that have escaped authoritarian escalation, at least for the time being: the surprising victory of the Marxist presidential candidate in Sri Lanka, month-long general strikes in Guatemala, particularly by indigenous movements, which thwarted an authoritarian coup and, finally, the fall of Assad in Syria. Social conflicts come about even in seemingly closed and stable authoritarian regimes. This does not necessarily have to lead to a shift to the right, but can also be resolved in an anti-authoritarian manner: Because people tire of being governed in an authoritarian way. These examples show: Fatalism about the shift to the right and authoritarianism from above and below is by no means warranted.
While the threat of the current shift to the right is real, it is often overlooked that people all over the world are looking for answers to the omnipresent crises surrounding them and are defending themselves against attacks from the right. Many of our partner organisations live and work under authoritarian regimes, often under direct attack themselves, always in solidarity with other stakeholders and fighting with them for justice and human rights across borders. We stand by their side.