The Corruption Paradox: How Authoritarian Populists Weaponize the Language of Justice and Democracy—While Undermining Both
Photo by Sandra Gabriel on Unsplash
A few years ago, I worked on a public opinion survey in Spain that covered a broad range of political topics. What struck me most was finding that the voters most concerned about corruption—an ongoing problem across parties in Spain—were those most likely to vote for the far-right party Vox, which has since been accused of irregular financing, yet frames itself as the party of anti-corruption and democratic renewal.
This trend of voters attracted to authoritarian populist parties who fashion themselves as strongholds of anti-corruption, rule of law, and democracy despite engaging in illegal or criminal activity is not unique to Spain, but is a widespread trend globally. Even more striking is the reality that the popularity of authoritarian populist leaders doesn’t seem to be significantly affected by findings of corruption or other forms of illegality, as has become evident in notable cases in France, Romania, and the US, among other places.
Indeed, only a few years have passed since I worked on that survey and yet there have been a string of cases where authoritarian populist politicians were convicted on a variety of charges but faced few repercussions in the polls or at the ballot box. On the contrary, authoritarian populists have been able to reframe legal cases or convictions against them as proof of the system’s flaws and evidence that they are standing up to power.
In Austria, for example, the so-called Ibiza affair shook the country after footage revealed the leader of the neo-Nazi Freedom Party (then part of the coalition government) casually advising Russian oligarchs. In the United States, President Donald Trump has been indicted or convicted on a range of charges, including hush-money payments, willful retention of national defense information, conspiracy to obstruct justice, and election interference. In Hungary, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has been accused of covering up corruption and of benefiting his relatives with public contracts. In Brazil, former president Jair Bolsonaro has been charged, along with 33 other people, with leading an alleged coup after losing the general election. In Romania, Călin Georgescu—an until recently barely known, pro-Russian, and conspiracy-prone politician—won the first round of the 2024 presidential election before the result was annulled due to Russian interference.
And perhaps most notably, just days ago in France, Marine Le Pen and 20 members of her party were found guilty of embezzling European Union funds. As a result, Le Pen has been declared ineligible to run for political office for five years, effectively barring her from the 2027 presidential election, of which she was a frontrunner.
Despite the lingering outrage that the Ibiza affair elicited in Austria, the Freedom Party (under new leadership) won the latest general election (however, it has not been able to form a government, and an alternative three-party coalition has come into power). President Trump managed to win the popular vote in 2025, thousands of Romanians have taken to the streets to protest Georgescu’s sentencing, and in April, Bolsonaro led protests calling for an amnesty for those condemned for the attempted coup d’état.
These cases illustrate the tensions that emerge between engaging in politics and applying the law consistently. Two processes that are differently yet intertwined and–unfortunately–often framed as incompatible, to the detriment of both democracy and the rule of law.
The Corruption Paradox: ‘Anti-Corruption’ Actors Thriving Under the Shadow of Conviction
How is it that despite significant evidence of corruption, crimes, or illegal acts, these political actors still manage to muster the support of a public driven by anti-corruption and anti-establishment sentiment?
Some writers and scholars call this phenomenon the corruption or populist paradox.
Anti-corruption populism, which employs rhetoric that divides society between inherently corrupt elites and “the people” and accuses elites of being inherently or inevitably corrupt, is central in authoritarian populist campaigns. Anti-corruption discourse helps reinforce authoritarian populists’ self-promoted image as subversive actors standing up against elites and on the side of the “true people,” as their true representatives, at a time when people are struggling with uncertainty but also desire change from politics as usual.
This is a particularly salient discursive strategy as corruption is indeed common (anecdotally, listening to the news on the morning I wrote these lines, I heard about corruption cases in Spain involving actors in both mainstream political parties). While not all politicians are corrupt, there have been sufficient cases for the perception to entrench. According to Transparency International, the Western Europe and European Union regional average on the Corruption Perceptions Index has dropped for the second consecutive year, continues to decline in the US, and Eastern Europe persists to be embroiled in a vicious cycle of weak democracy and flourishing corruption.
As renowned fascism scholar Jason Stanley writes, extremists deploying anti-corruption rhetoric is not historically new: “Fascist movements have been “draining swamps” for generations. Publicizing false charges of corruption while engaging in corrupt practices is typical of fascist politics, and anti-corruption campaigns are frequently at the heart of fascist political movements. Fascist politicians characteristically decry corruption in the state they seek to take over, which is bizarre, given that fascist politicians themselves are invariably vastly more corrupt than those they seek to supplant or defeat.”
The paradox of thriving through corruption via anti-corruption speech is puzzling, but makes more sense when we look at the typical narrative used by authoritarian populists. Indictments and convictions may be inconvenient, but they can also be rebranded as evidence of these actors getting close to power and challenging the “deep state.” Accusations of corruption or even convictions can allow them to build an image of victimhood, defiance, and strength, all at once. Even if proven guilty, these actors may find convictions allow them to build an image of subversion, of rebellion that can make their movement even more appealing and provide a sense of belonging for those angry at the status quo (in the 2020s, is far-right the new punk?). Finally, it can also signal commitment (especially when the case does not involve personal riches), the leader is saying: nothing stands between me and making our vision a reality, I’ll do whatever it takes for you.
Listening intently to “anti-corruption speech,” one may also notice that authoritarian populist politicians in Europe and North America often engage in double-speak. Railing against corruption is not only about complaints of government officials using their power for private gain; it is used to explain that elites actually are selling the nation, taking advantage of ordinary citizens, often used as code for a narrow definition of citizen that is meant to imply “native” in the sense of white and Christian. Interpreted this way, tasked with maintaining the purity of the nation, how much does a bit of illicit electoral campaign financing matter?
Is it Rule of Law or Lawfare? Is Justice Against Democracy?
Indeed, we have reached a stage when seemingly any narrative can be conveniently spun regardless of the circumstances. Let’s take Le Pen’s case in France as an example. Had she been acquitted and found not guilty, this would have allowed her to continue to insist on her innocence and double down on the narrative of being politically persecuted by legal means. Had she been proven guilty but still found eligible for public office, Le Pen would have continued to insist on her innocence and boost her credibility that despite all efforts by “the elites” to persecute her, she remains standing. And, as she was ultimately found guilty and declared ineligible to stand for office for five years, she has been quick to declare that the trial was a “witch hunt” and that the will of the people to elect her is being denied (her party has since launched a petition to “save democracy.”)
Much as Trump’s conviction in the US and Georgescu’s investigation in Romania, Le Pen’s conviction has caused a political firestorm, with reactions that always seem to follow a similar arc. The case is reduced to simple binaries: is this a case of justice served or of lawfare (the use of legal action to harm an opponent)? Is the rule of law being weaponized against democracy itself?
This kind of binary framing has not only been pushed by Le Pen and her defenders, but by commentators across the political spectrum as well. Far-left Greek politician Yanis Varoufakis, for example, also condemned Le Pen’s conviction. Staunchly anti-establishment, Varoufakis claims that Le Pen is a fascist, but insists that she must be defeated politically and not through the courts.
In my view, the argument that applying the law to a political frontrunner amounts to denying the will of the people—or worse, attacking democracy itself—does nothing to defend democracy from authoritarianism or help strengthen democratic institutions (the fact that despite convictions these politicians or their allies have continued to run and win elections should also invalidate this point). Instead, it reinforces authoritarian populist rhetoric by adopting their framing and bolstering the idea that they are the true defenders of democracy. This narrative oversimplifies the complex and often ambiguous relationship between law and politics, reducing it to a flawed and unnuanced logic. Moreover, it distracts from the real threats posed by the misuse of legal systems, the real lawfare. To draw from the US case, far-right institutions such as the Heritage Foundation, but also progressive ones, accuse each other’s movements of lawfare. However, it's well-documented that far-right activists often push and twist the legal system in unique ways to attempt dramatic, democracy-threatening policy changes through the courts, rather than through regular political channels. It’s important to remember that strategic litigation and lawfare are not the same.
It is true that the legal system is often misused and that there are political attempts to control the judiciary and weaponize it against opponents, not only against authoritarian populist leaders but also (notoriously) against civil society and dissidents. Indeed, there are also very valid questions that should be raised: should anyone, ever, be denied the right to run for office or to vote? There are moral, philosophical, and political arguments to say no. At the same time, it was Le Pen herself who said that anyone convicted of corruption should be ineligible for life.
Yet applying the law or persecuting someone for alleged crimes—assuming there is due process—is not against democratic principles. It is an application of them. Without the rule of law, we are left with the rule by law, that is, the law becomes whatever the leader says–where is democracy in that? Reducing democracy to a person’s ability to run for office or to a process of counting votes denies that, for it to function as a means of collective decision-making, fairness needs to be embedded in the process. Suspending the law because a person is doing well in the polls would, in the long run, perpetuate an unfair system and reduce both democracy and the rule of law to a voting farce (this line of argument—that a leading politician should not be investigated or disqualified, even when the legal system requires it—raises troubling questions: Does it mean that only unpopular candidates can be held accountable? Or that the law should be suspended for anyone seeking office, regardless of their standing in the polls?).
The other line of argument is that even the most nefarious political actors need to be defeated politically, not through the courts. This, again, presumes that the two options are mutually exclusive. If a politician engages in corruption, this person should be investigated. This is not incompatible with running a political campaign that opposes their ideas and platform. To pretend so is in fact to further strengthen the authoritarian populists’ self-fashioning as victims of the establishment and defenders of democracy and the true will of the people.
This argument also presupposes a hyper personalistic understanding of contemporary authoritarian populist leaders. It is undeniable that at least some of the parties who pursue this style of politics have highly charismatic leaders, be it Trump, Orbán, Meloni, or Le Pen. But the movements behind them are broader, more deeply rooted, and far more enduring than the leaders themselves. As fascism scholar Robert Paxton reminds us, we can neither understand nor overcome the success of fascists by simply focusing on the leader. Assuming that Le Pen’s ineligibility to run for office denies the public a representative (which can be found amongst others in the movement) or that her ineligibility (or analogous politicians in other countries) suffices to defeat authoritarian politics is shortsighted. One can look at Austria as a recent example: the leader changed, the movement remains strong.
Making the case that the judiciary and the legal system should not engage when there is also a political contest, ultimately, paves the way for further abuses by authoritarians once they get to power–not to better them but to dismantle them (as is clear in the United States: in his first few weeks in office Trump stepped back the US Justice Department’s anti-corruption efforts).
From Either/Or to Both/And: Applying the law with consistency while engaging in the politics of persuasion
None of this—countering authoritarian populist movements, holding the powerful accountable, combating corruption, challenging and building new and compelling narratives, and building democracies rooted in belonging—is simple or easy. Cases like Le Pen’s present legal, political, and moral challenges. We can try to make sense of them by recognizing that, unlike the black-and-white narratives we are often presented with, much like life, politics, law, and morality are full of complexity and ambiguity. In our efforts to make sense, analyze, and strategize, we need to be cautious and make sure we don’t replicate authoritarian populist frames and insist on alternatives.
What we can do, however, is have consistency of adjudication and not cede the values of democracy or the rule of law (even–and especially–when we know they are flawed). That is to say: make sure that we promote the consistent application of legal and moral principles and procedures, both to those we perceive as an enemy but even with more difficulty to our own group, while we continue to engage in politics to convince the public that authoritarian populists are not the best choice. It’s not either or, it’s both.
In other news…
According to a poll conducted after Le Pen’s verdict, 68 percent of French people believe that an immediate ban on running for office for embezzling public funds is a fair sentence. Most French people also believe–contrary to her party's rhetoric–that democracy is not endangered by the ruling.
As the EU continues to lay the ground for deportation centers in foreign territories (i.e. outsourced concentration camps), the Italian government is trying once again to relocate rejected asylum seekers to Albania. Meanwhile, in the United States, President Trump just met with Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele (who apparently self-describes as the coolest dictator) to discuss migration, likely in efforts to distract from the tariff trainwreck.
In this online event, Anne Applebaum does an excellent job at unpacking authoritarianism, its different forms, and how it relates to the rule of law in an accessible way.
Curious about the MAGA plastic surgery look? In Your Face: The Brutal Aesthetics of MAGA
And for the soul…
This Dostoyevsky quote has been in my mind as of late: “It's life that matters, nothing but life—the process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all.” A good quote to reflect on generally, but also as a companion to the old but still good book Thoughts without a Thinker, which explores Buddhism and psychotherapy in tandem, offering insights into the human mind and identity from a perspective that integrates both.
Connecting the Dots: Musings on Bridging and Belonging is a monthly column by Míriam Juan-Torres. In it, Míriam reflects on current events, connecting the trends and considering the specificities across countries, applying a bridging and belonging lens and translating concepts from academia for a wider audience. Join our mailing list to stay up to date on the latest of the Democracy & Belonging Forum's curated analysis from Miriam and more.
Editor's note: The ideas expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of the Othering & Belonging Institute or UC Berkeley, but belong to the authors.