Seva Gunitsky’s approach to the study of democratization shares with my own view that there is a lot to be learned from studying historical waves of democratization. Whether the goal is to highlight the international or domestic conditions that facilitate regime endurance, research on the past allows us to see patterns that are otherwise invisible. The erosion of democracy that followed moments of breakthrough in 1918, 1945, and 1989, for example, shows that we should never think of democracy as an end point. Whereas Gunitsky compellingly makes clear that international factors loom large, my particular angle is to ask how domestic opponents of regime change make their peace with it—and what happens when they do not.
Gunitsky notes an apparent challenge to my argument when he observes that in many contemporary cases of democratic backsliding, the chief problem is not insufficient “strength” on the part of conservative or right parties, but rather the opposite—the monopolistic tendencies of overly successful incumbents. If one thinks of the autocratic inclinations of Viktor Orban’s Fidesz in Hungary or Poland’s Law and Justice Party (PiS), the image of weak and frightened conservatives is certainly not the first to come to mind. Indeed, in our age it is overwhelmingly successful elected autocrats that we should worry about. So why worry about their weakness?
There are two answers to this question. First, robust conservative parties certainly can, of course, always degenerate into antidemocratic forces. There is no foolproof mechanism for preventing this outcome. However, if we conceptualize old regime parties as a method of countermajoritarian constraint that allows old regime elites to “buy into” democracy, this method stands as superior to the only alternative on offer: hard countermajoritarian constitutional institutions (e.g., unelected upper chambers, intentional malapportionment) that can permanently lock in advantages for former authoritarian incumbents. In contrast to those who advocate hardwiring old regime advantages into difficult-to-amend constitutions at a moment of transition, I advocate the softer approach of political parties as defenders of former autocratic interests because it is normatively superior and more effective. Rather than closing off arenas of democratic competition to old regime elites by writing constitutions that permanently shelter them, strong party organization can simultaneously achieve old regime acquiescence and generate a cycle of robust democratic contestation.
As Gunitsky notes, however, even this sometimes is not enough. A case like Viktor Orban’s Fidesz suggests that strong conservatives can be a threat, not a boon, to democracy. I agree with this empirical assessment but believe this tells only half the story. The rise of a figure like Orban and the gradual radicalization of his own political party from a Christian Democratic center-right party in the late 1990s to a self-described “illiberal democrat” in the 2010s did not happen overnight. Indeed, it was arguably the historical vacuum created by the absence of a genuine and institutionalized postcommunist center-right party (in addition to a fragmented left opposition) that propelled Orban further and further to the right in the first place. The existence of strong autocrat parties is not a refutation of my thesis but, rather, an illustration of what happens over time when strong center-right parties are missing.
This brings me to a final point: Gunitsky notes a dark undertone to my account. Democracy only works when conservatives find that it is in their self-interest to comply. I believe that this description, while apt, slightly misstates my account. Self-interest may propel democracy’s opponents initially to accept it. However, in the process of engaging in the combat of modern democratic politics, conservatives discover the profession of democratic politics and its associated norms. As Lord Salisbury, the conservative opponent of Britain’s modest 1867 Reform Act, for example, began to rely on a new breed of professional political advisor—the “wirepuller”—to protect his class’ interests, professional self-interest and norms of bargaining, negotiation, and compromise merged. Indeed, the presence of each bolstered the other. At the end of the day, a norm such as mutual toleration, so critical for democracy’s survival, does not require that former enemies embrace each other. It means only that they publicly accept what they privately may despise.
The difficulties of building democracy in capitalist societies involve convincing those who initially might be hurt by democracy that their evolving interests and status would be hurt be abandoning it. This insight, ultimately compatible with Max Weber’s in his famous 1919 speech “Politics as Vocation,” is key to understanding the viability of democracy in the past and today.
