WARSAW – Consider the following three-scene play. In the first scene, it is October 10, 2023. Jarosław Kaczyński, the soon-to-be-deposed little “Big Man” of Poland’s populist ruling party, Law and Justice (PiS), does what he does on the tenth day of every month. He lays flowers at the monument commemorating his twin brother, then-President Lech Kaczyński, and 95 others who died when their plane tried to land in thick fog at Smolensk airfield in Russia, in April 2010.

Meanwhile, Zbigniew Komosa, a Polish entrepreneur who carries out a similar ritual on the tenth day of every month, lays a wreath commemorating the victims of the crash. But pinned to his offering is a note that reads: “In memory of the 95 victims of Lech Kaczyński, who, ignoring all regulations, ordered the pilots to land in extremely hazardous conditions. May you rest in peace.”

Every month, Kaczyński has had Komosa’s wreath removed. This time, however, the police attending Kaczyński are somehow less eager to do so, and Kaczyński must do it himself. He tears the note off and carries the wreath away from the monument to cries of “thief” from Komosa and a friend who is filming the entire incident. Kaczyński then demands that the police arrest the wreath-layers or at least take down their names, while Komosa demands that they arrest Kaczyński for stealing private property.

The scene lasts around ten minutes as an increasingly frustrated Kaczyński tells the police that he is ordering them as the minister for security (a position he no longer holds) to arrest Komosa. Eventually, Kaczyński resorts to ringing a police commandant personally, but still to no avail.

In scene two, it is Sunday, October 15, 2023: Election Day. Kaczyński, not an early riser, shows up late in the day to vote. The polling station is crowded, because voter turnout is higher than in any election since the fall of communism. Accompanied by his security detail, Kaczyński is astonished to be told by those in line that he is not permitted to jump the queue, and that he should go to the back to wait his turn. The scene is especially striking because, as everyone knows, elderly voters are often allowed ahead as a matter of courtesy.

In scene three, it is November 13, 2023: The first session of the newly elected parliament, where four democratic opposition parties command a large majority. Since 2016, the parliament building has been surrounded by crowd-control barriers, reinforced by a strong police presence. But as this session commences, members of the public remove the barriers and stack them tidily to one side, while the police look on.

There is no storming of the parliament to worry about. The crowd is there to support the peaceful transfer of power, not to prevent it. But viewers of the play should know that this is not how the Polish police normally behaved during PiS’s eight-year rule. For example, law enforcement responded brutally to women marching in protest against Poland’s total ban on abortion in 2020; at the time, Kaczyński wanted to use the army to suppress the protests.

What conclusions can we draw from this drama? First, the authority to use violence or force can evaporate unexpectedly and very quickly, sometimes even before an election loss, and long before a formal transfer of power. After all, the new democratic government, led by former European Council President and Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, is unlikely to be sworn in before December 13 – a full month after the events of scene three, and two months after scene two, when Kaczyński was told to go to the back of the line.

Something similar happened in Russia during Wagner Group leader Yevgeny Prigozhin’s mutiny. No one stood in the way of his “march on Moscow” – on the contrary, many ordinary Russians cheered him on – and the effort probably failed only because Prigozhin had not thought through what he would do if he took Moscow.

Second, in fledgling authoritarian regimes, many of those tied to the “apparatus of repression” will not yet have committed crimes on behalf of those in power. Even if there is only a small outside chance of democracy returning, they will remain unwilling to stick out their own necks, and the law will retain some force.

We saw this during the wreath-laying incident: the man filming the scene kept demanding that the police explain which article of the criminal code authorized them to order him to leave. In the end, they pushed him back a bit, but not so far as to prevent him from annoying Kaczyński.

The moral of the story, then, is that the longer authoritarians are in power, the more likely they are to stay in power by implementing policies and procedures to make it less likely that ordinary people will challenge their authority. For example, when Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping turn up at their neighborhood polling stations, other voters, like those Kaczyński encountered, are kept away. When authoritarian regimes are consolidating themselves, time is not on the side of the forces of democracy.

BRATISLAVA – The results of the recent elections in Poland and Slovakia underscore the two countries’ diverging political trajectories. In Poland, the democratic opposition won enough parliamentary seats to oust the increasingly authoritarian Law and Justice (PiS) party. While Polish President Andrzej Duda gave PiS Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki the first shot at forming a government, the opposition parties have already announced a coalition deal.

Meanwhile, in Slovakia, the left-populist party Smer-Social Democracy, led by former Prime Minister Robert Fico, eked out a narrow victory, setting the stage for a possible return to kleptocratic rule.

Both elections generated record-high turnout. In Poland, nearly 73% of eligible voters cast ballots – the highest rate since the fall of communism. Slovakia’s turnout, at 68.5%, was the country’s highest since 1998.

If the opposition Civic Platform, led by former Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, succeeds in forming Poland’s next government, it will face the challenge of curtailing populism at home, embodied by a president elected by PiS. When it comes to foreign policy, a Tusk administration would bolster diplomatic support for Ukraine and focus on mending ties with the European Union, especially with key members such as Germany and France. Poland’s return to the democratic fold will rehabilitate its international image and strengthen its influence within Europe.

By contrast, Fico’s return to power in Slovakia raises significant concerns for two main reasons: his aspiration to mirror Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s strategy of consolidating control over the state and its key institutions, and Slovakia’s likely departure from its erstwhile Western-oriented foreign policy.

Fico’s first directive – halting arms shipments to Ukraine – was more symbolic than consequential. Slovakia had largely depleted its stockpiles and sent to Ukraine everything it could. Nevertheless, Fico’s pro-Russia stance suggests that his new government will drag its feet on implementing new EU sanctions against Russia and may also seek to reopen existing defense agreements with the United States. In both cases, however, Fico will have to tread carefully, considering that Slovakia remains dependent on the EU’s cohesion funds and NATO’s security guarantees.

Given that Fico won the election by a razor-thin margin, his chances of replicating Orbán’s illiberal model appear slim. Not only does Orbán’s Fidesz Party have an absolute parliamentary majority, but his regime is underpinned by an authoritarian vision of a Christian nationalist-conservative state supported by a relatively homogeneous and compliant citizenry. By contrast, Fico has no clear vision for Slovakia beyond his own quest for power and personal enrichment. Moreover, his return to power signals the political comeback of his notorious associates Robert Kaliňák and Tibor Gašpar, both of whom have been investigated for their alleged involvement in the 2018 assassination of investigative journalist Ján Kuciak and his fiancée, Martina Kušnírová.

In his public statements, Fico often oscillates between sounding like an anti-vaccine spokesperson, a pro-Kremlin parrot, and an anti-NATO and anti-American mouthpiece – whatever extreme position happens to appeal to his embittered and alienated voter base. But his actions often betray his deference to the EU and NATO. Crucially, it was during his tenure as prime minister that Slovakia integrated closely with the rest of Europe, joining the Schengen area in 2007 and the eurozone in 2009. Fico even pushed for the country to join the “core EU,” placing it in stark contrast with the more Euroskeptic positions of its eastern neighbors. On other occasions prior to his re-election, Fico’s actions deviated from his public statements, for example, when he repeatedly called for lifting the energy, financial, and defense sanctions the EU slapped on Moscow after it annexed Crimea, only to support them quietly in EU fora.

The Polish and Slovak elections offer valuable lessons for pro-democracy movements challenging populist regimes across Europe. Poland’s experience demonstrates the effectiveness of uniting a diverse coalition of democratic forces – progressives, leftists, technocrats, traditionalists, and conservatives – around a common cause. By focusing on PiS’s concentration of power, its attacks on the judiciary and the media, and its crackdown on civil rights, the opposition was able to illustrate the stakes of the rapid erosion of Polish democracy.

While PiS manipulated election laws, milked state-owned companies for campaign funds, and even turned its back on Ukraine just to gain an electoral edge, the Civic Platform-led alliance managed to put aside its differences in an effort to level the playing field. In the end, this strategy proved successful.

The key takeaway from Slovakia’s election has little to do with Fico. While pro-democratic liberals led by Michal Šimečka performed exceptionally well in urban centers such as Bratislava and Košice, and among Slovak expatriates, their message failed to resonate with the rest of the country, particularly in rural areas and among senior citizens and those who felt abandoned by the political establishment. Unless centrist politicians address the concerns of these groups, disaffected voters will remain vulnerable to disinformation and the allure of populism.

Following Poland’s rejection of illiberalism, Fico’s Slovakia has become Hungary’s closest EU ally. But while the Slovak-Hungarian alliance may pose some challenges for the EU and NATO, the strength of the illiberal coalition and its ability to sow division within Europe is significantly diminished without Poland. One reason for this is that while the Orbán administration hopes for rapprochement between the two countries on strategic issues, such as support for Ukraine and migration or nuclear policy, he does not trust Fico in the same way that he trusts PiS leader Jarosław Kaczyński, his close political ally. Following the European Socialists’ suspension of Smer-Social Democracy from its ranks, Fico, too, will not waste precious political capital on alliances that may hurt his standing. If anything, deals will tend to get done behind closed doors.

With Europe’s illiberal governments in a weakened state, the EU must fulfill its promise to crack down on them. The bloc’s financial resources confer significant power. It must use this leverage to uphold democracy while it has the chance.

LONDON – Irish author Paul Lynch has been awarded this year’s Booker Prize, one of the most prestigious literary prizes in the English-speaking world, for his novel Prophet Song – and for good reason. With its harrowing vision of Ireland descending into tyranny, Lynch’s book perfectly captures the anxiety that characterizes our current political moment.

Not all critics were impressed. One reviewer described it as a “flapping turkey” of a book, criticizing Lynch for his sub-Orwellian themes and prose. But most reviews have been more favorable, with many lauding the book for reflecting mounting concerns about the future of parliamentary democracy in Western Europe and beyond. Lynch’s portrayal of a country sliding into authoritarian rule would certainly resonate with far-right leaders such as the recently triumphant Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, and France’s Marine Le Pen.

Wilders’ stunning victory in the Dutch general election underscores the growing support for far-right parties across Europe. For more than two decades, he has been a vocal critic of the Netherlands’ immigration policies, frequently targeting the country’s Muslim community. His rise to prominence can be largely attributed to the blend of identity politics and simplistic solutions characteristic of today’s populist movements.

Proponents of liberal democracy have long worried about the influence of identity politics. While it is natural for individuals to identify with various familial, ethnic, religious, and national groups, the principles of liberal democracy extend far beyond such affiliations. At their core is the recognition that managing a diverse, pluralistic society is a complicated task that requires more than just an electoral majority.

Throughout history, eminent political philosophers like Cicero, Alexis de Tocqueville, and Edmund Burke have emphasized the necessity of checks and balances on majority opinion in the interest of protecting minority rights – a pillar of liberal democracy. By contrast, today’s illiberal democracies may allow citizens to vote, but only after the ruling party has captured and hollowed out independent institutions and manipulated the system to guarantee that it would never lose.

This is not to say that identity does not matter. I am English and hold a British passport, but my great-grandfather was Irish. My faith is Roman Catholic, and politically, I identify as an old-fashioned, right-of-center Tory. I consider myself both a European and an internationalist. Most importantly, my family is the cornerstone of my personal identity.

Each aspect of my identity embodies values that I hold dear. I am a firm believer in tolerance and moderation, the rule of law, and parliamentary democracy. I also sympathize with Pope Francis’s view that churches should not act as enforcers dictating how we live our lives. Instead, they should serve as hospitals, offering support and guidance to help us navigate life’s vicissitudes as best we can.

Moreover, I have always been skeptical of those offering simple solutions to complex problems. This skepticism is what drove me to oppose Brexit. Ultimately, the idea that British people could regain control and sovereignty over our national and individual futures by exiting the European Union was revealed to be a delusion fueled by lies. Similarly, the promise that Brexit would restore the United Kingdom’s global stature has been thoroughly discredited. And instead of making it easier to control immigration, Britain’s departure from the EU has had the opposite effect.

Historically, immigration has often served as a catalyst for authoritarian populism. In the past, it led to the widespread persecution of Jewish communities, and today, it is fueling hostility toward Muslim populations. In the Netherlands, as in Hungary and France, xenophobia and Islamophobia are the driving forces behind the rise of nationalist extremism and the erosion of liberal values.

The allure of populist authoritarianism grows when governments fail to deliver moderate and sensible responses to immigration or manage their borders effectively. But it becomes an even greater threat in periods of economic stress, particularly when democratic governments are unable to improve living standards.

Parliamentary democracies demand more sophisticated leadership than is necessary in authoritarian regimes. After all, democratic leaders must explain why complex issues cannot always be resolved by exploiting prejudices or resorting to cheap slogans. That is also why democracies, when they are well-run, tend to offer a higher quality of life than any alternative system of governance.

While it may appear easier for dictatorships like China to enforce their will, this approach often leads to diminished economic performance and reduced political legitimacy, as evidenced by the Chinese economy’s recent struggles. A surveillance state can crack down on dissent and restrict free speech, but such measures are not sustainable over the long term and tend to produce disastrous consequences.

In present-day China, the government actively suppresses any acknowledgment or remembrance of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre, where hundreds if not thousands of students were killed. Despite these attempts to erase history, however, the memory of these events endures. As Tolstoy taught us, attempts to suppress dissent can sometimes transform a trickle of discontent into a tsunami that sweeps away authoritarian leaders and institutions.

Lynch’s Booker Prize-winning novel, with its unsettling premise, serves as a stark reminder of the chaos and hardship that political populism and authoritarianism invariably bring. If you are considering buying the book, however, you might want to delay reading it until after the holiday season. It is an important book, but not one that inspires light-heartedness and joy.

AMSTERDAM – One of the biggest mistakes I ever made as a journalist was to underestimate Geert Wilders, now the leader (and only formal member) of the most popular political party in the Netherlands, and potentially the first far-right prime minister his country has ever known.

I interviewed Wilders in 2005 for my book, Murder in Amsterdam, about the assassination of the filmmaker Theo van Gogh by a Muslim extremist. The Party for Freedom (PVV), founded by Wilders in 2006, did not exist yet. But I was interested in the views of an outspoken critic of Islam, and of immigrants with a Muslim background.

Frankly, I thought he was a bore, with no political future, and did not quote him in my book. Like most people, I was struck by his rather weird hairstyle. Why would a grown man and member of parliament wish to dye his fine head of dark hair platinum blond? In fact, he turned out to have been somewhat of a pioneer in this respect. The later successes of Donald Trump and Boris Johnson demonstrated the importance of visual branding, of having a zany image boosted by the cultivation of odd hair. (Perhaps Hitler’s toothbrush moustache, or even Napoleon’s comb-over, was a harbinger.)

There is, however, another possible interpretation of Wilders’ hair. In 2009, a Dutch anthropologist and expert on Indonesia, Lizzy van Leeuwen, argued that Wilders might have been keen to disguise his Eurasian roots. His maternal grandmother was partly Indonesian. His grandparents had to leave the Dutch East Indies under a cloud of financial malfeasance.

It would be unfair to hold any of this against Wilders, of course. Race may not explain anything. But there is a history of far-right, anti-Muslim sentiment among Eurasians in the former Dutch East Indies that might help to put his politics in context.

Eurasians, or Indos as they were called, were never fully accepted by the Indonesians or their Dutch colonial masters. They were born as outsiders. The more educated ones often yearned to become insiders. An aversion to Islam, the majority religion in the Dutch East Indies, and extreme Dutch nationalism were often the result.

During the 1930s, many members of the Dutch Nazi party in the colony had a Eurasian background. As van Leeuwen pointed out, the party enabled Indos to be “more Dutch than the Dutch.”

Wilders may not be a fascist, but his obsession with sovereignty, national belonging, and cultural and religious purity has a long lineage among outsiders. Ultra-nationalists often emerge from the periphery – Napoleon from Corsica, Stalin from Georgia, Hitler from Austria. Those who long to be insiders frequently become implacable enemies of people who are farther away from the center than they are.

Wilders is not a rarity, even in the Netherlands. In 1980, Henry Brookman founded the far-right Dutch Center Party to oppose immigration, especially Muslim immigration. Brookman, too, had a Eurasian background, as did another right-wing politician, Rita Verdonk, who founded the Proud of the Netherlands Party in 2007.

A politician who might fruitfully be compared to Wilders is former British Home Secretary Suella Braverman. As a child of immigrants – her parents are double outsiders, first as Indians in Africa and then as African-Indians in Britain – her animus toward immigrants and refugees “invading” the United Kingdom may seem puzzling. But in her case, too, a longing to belong may play a part in her politics.

Braverman’s entry into the British establishment and ascent within the Conservative Party shows that Britain has become more open to outsiders. It is less laudable that her hard-right views on immigration have become mainstream in Conservative politics, or that white-skinned Tories were happy to use an ambitious daughter of immigrants to promote an anti-immigrant agenda – at least until her incendiary rhetoric became too embarrassing.

Until relatively recently, ultra-nationalist parties and politicians were marginalized by mainstream conservative parties, or dropped, as happened in 1968 to Enoch Powell, the British politician who predicted that more non-white immigration would lead to “rivers of blood.” They were treated as political outsiders, whatever their family backgrounds.

To more and more disaffected voters, however, this was precisely their appeal. Brexiteers and Trump benefited from this in 2016, and Wilders is benefiting from it today.

But such outcomes could not happen without the cynicism displayed over the past few decades by traditional conservative parties. Afraid of losing their voters to the far right, they pandered to their prejudices, against foreign “freeloaders,” the Muslim threat to “Judeo-Christian values,” the “woke” city slickers, or the “people from nowhere.” But it was mostly just rhetoric, and conservative parties simply carried on serving the interests of rich people and big business. This only fed the rage of people who felt treated like outsiders and wanted an outsider to blow up the old order.

The way the conservative parties in the Netherlands, such as the Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD), have dealt with this problem in the past was to refuse to govern with extremists like Wilders. The VVD also stood for internationalism, the European Union, military support of Ukraine, and measures to deal with climate change. Wilders is opposed to all of it.

What changed is that the VVD, hoping to protect its right flank, took a harder line on immigration and hinted that governing with angry outsiders might be possible after all (a stance that has now been reversed, but for how long?). Now that the door was left open, and immigration was made into an election issue, Wilders was able to win in a landslide.

The irony of this sorry tale is that Dilan Yeşilgöz, the VVD leader who allowed this to happen, was born in Ankara to a Turkish mother and Kurdish father. She is precisely the kind of Dutch citizen that Wilders has vowed to stamp out.

BOSTON – These are unique and troubling times for the United States. A twice-impeached former president who now faces four separate indictments for serious crimes is the de facto leader of one of the two main political parties. Having remade the Republican Party in his image, Donald Trump will almost certainly be its nominee in the 2024 presidential election, despite mounting evidence of his financial misdeeds and role in an attempted coup. While Democrats fared well in various elections this month, polls show Trump leading US President Joe Biden in key battleground states. Clearly, something is rotten in the American Republic.

A second Trump presidency would be a much greater threat to democracy than the first. Trump’s own outlook and rhetoric suggest that he has been radicalized further, and his supporters have now learned from their failed attempt to overturn the 2020 election. Friendly think tanks are drawing up plans to dismantle the US government’s checks and balances, allowing Trump to usher in a police state targeting his political opponents. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 aims to “create a playbook of actions to be taken in the first 180 days of the new administration to bring quick relief to Americans suffering from the left’s devastating policies.” Central to that effort will be to staff key positions with Trumpian cadres.

While Trump and his enablers in the political establishment obviously bear the blame for this dire state of affairs, so do the American left and the fact-based media, which have failed to develop a well-calibrated response. Reactions vary from implicit normalization (who can deny a major party’s choice of nominee?) to showing zero tolerance toward Trump’s supporters. But a practical blueprint for addressing the situation is missing, even though the future of American democracy is at stake.

The most promising response would feature two seemingly contradictory stances. First, the center and the left must unite in declaring Trump and his inner circle a mortal threat to the American Republic. His top lieutenants should be treated as such, rather than as ratings-boosting talking heads. Trump’s clearly stated plans for destroying American democracy must be highlighted constantly.

But the center and the left also must recognize that most Trump supporters have legitimate grievances. This is the part of a successful response that has been lacking. While there are undoubtedly strong white-nationalist and racist elements in the MAGA movement, they are far from representing most people who will be voting for Republicans in the next election.

A significant share of the US population has suffered economically over the last four decades. Real (inflation-adjusted) earnings among men with only a high-school degree or less have declined since 1980, and median wages had all but stagnated until the late 2010s. Meanwhile, incomes for Americans with college degrees and specialized skills (such as programming) have risen rapidly.

There are many reasons for this labor-market transformation, and several of them are rooted in economic trends that establishment politicians and the media long sold as benefits to workers. The wave of globalization that was supposed to lift all boats has stranded many. The automation that was supposed to make US manufacturing more competitive and help workers is the biggest factor in declining earnings among workers without a college degree. Meanwhile, labor unions, minimum-wage laws, and norms protecting low-pay workers have weakened.

Many workers who have suffered from these trends also sense that they have lost ground socially. Legal, political, and cultural changes that have helped previously disadvantaged groups (minorities, women, the LGBTQ+ community) have flustered others. In the process, many Americans have grown resentful as they feel their viewpoints and grievances are being ignored by the mainstream media and the educated, technocratic elite.

In a recent paper, the economists Ilyana Kuziemko, Nicolas Longuet-Marx, and Suresh Naidu document a divide between the economic preferences of less-educated workers, on one hand, and the well-educated and the Democratic Party, on the other. Whereas ordinary workers have a strong preference for minimum wages, job guarantees, protections against trade, and stronger unions, elites oppose such programs as unwarranted interference with the market. The Democratic Party’s preferred method for helping the less advantaged has been to push for redistribution via the tax and transfer system.

This disconnect between workers and center-left policymakers is not confined to the US. As the economists Amory Gethin, Clara Martínez-Toledano, and Thomas Pikettyshow, a similar political realignment has occurred across 21 Western democracies. In the 1950s and 1960s, the working class reliably voted for center-left and socialist parties, while wealthier and more highly educated citizens voted for the right. But by 2010, the more educated were voting overwhelmingly for center-left parties, and workers had shifted to the right, partly because center-left parties had moved away from policy positions aligned with workers’ material interests and other priorities.

Reversing this trend requires changes not just to the specific policies that center-left parties endorse, but also to the language they use. It also may require proactive efforts to promote workers to leadership positions within parties, rather than letting highly educated elites capture most top positions.

In the US, bringing workers back to the Democrats is not just an imperative for defeating Trump and the acolytes who will do his dirty work. It is also essential for America’s economy. Regulating the tech industry and supporting workers will be key issues in the coming decade and beyond. A center left that is devoid of workers’ voices cannot hope to rise to the occasion.

Americans who still support democracy must expose Trump for what he is and work hard to prevent him from returning to power. But to do that, they also must be more accommodating and responsive to workers – including those who have not benefited as much from globalization and technological changes and may not share all their positions on social and cultural issues.

CHICAGO – Americans have worried about their presidents becoming dictators (or, in the old days, tyrants) ever since the Unites States was founded. The framers of the US Constitution understood that in classical democracies and republics, leaders often tried to seize power from legislatures and other assemblies. That is why they created a system of checks and balances on government power.

So far, so good. No US president has ever been a dictator. Nonetheless, accusing the other side’s candidate of seeking dictatorial powers has become a quadrennial ritual, one that has started early this time around. In a widely circulated Washington Post commentary last week, Robert Kagan, repeating his earlier prediction that former President Donald Trump would become a fascist leader, warned that he would become a dictator if he is elected again in 2024. Kagan likens a Trump victory to an asteroid crashing into the earth, echoing the widely ridiculed commentary by Michael Anton, who likened a Hillary Clinton victory in 2016 to a suicide attack on an airliner.

Trump was and is many things, most of them bad. But he wasn’t a fascist when he was president, and he won’t be a dictator if he is elected a second time. Far from a strongman, Trump was weak throughout his previous term. His main accomplishments – a tax cut, a stimulus package during the pandemic, and appointments of conservative (but largely mainstream) judges – all went through normal constitutional procedures, with Congress fully involved. Meanwhile, Congress thwarted Trump’s promises to repeal the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”) and to build a wall on the border with Mexico.

Likewise, Trump’s most notable attempts to act unilaterally – to end the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals immigration program, add a citizenship-status question to the census, and cut environmental regulations – were all blocked by the courts or whittled down in response to judicial challenges. Trump’s own subordinates disobeyed his orders to block investigations of his activities and bring frivolous lawsuits against his opponents. And Trump’s most consequential foreign-policy decisions – withdrawing from the Paris climate agreement and the Iran nuclear deal, for example – were solidly within the tradition of presidential authority in that domain.

Trump was a weak president because most voters disliked him. Every Democrat and even a few Republicans could afford to oppose him. Unable to achieve majority popular support, he could only pretend. Though he tried to bully the judiciary, those efforts failed. “My judges,” as he called them, ruled against him over and over when he challenged the 2020 presidential election results. He couldn’t get the huge federal bureaucracy to do his bidding because he lacked the wisdom and patience to manage it.

Trump attempted to reverse the 2020 election by spreading lies and riling up a mob. But he failed completely, again thwarted by his top subordinates and the courts, as well as by election officials from both parties. Today, Trump and his henchmen have been indicted, his lawyers are facing disciplinary proceedings, and hundreds of his supporters have been sentenced to prison.

Kagan replies that this time is different. The Heritage Foundation, a leading right-wing think tank, is compiling a list of thousands of right-wing radicals who will fill slots in the federal bureaucracy – especially the Department of Justice – that Trump will have freed up by way of a novel legal maneuver. It has also produced a conservative wish list called Project 2025. But the notion that Trump will pay attention to think-tank proposals and white papers is fanciful – has no one learned anything?

Kagan is on stronger ground arguing that Trump will order investigations and trials of his political opponents – a typical move from the dictator’s playbook. Trump has indeed threatened as much, vowing to prosecute his own former attorney general, William Barr, and his former chief of staff, John Kelly, among others.

But if we have learned anything about Trump, it is that we should take his promises with a grain of salt. He never did “lock up” Hillary Clinton, after all, and he already tried to empty the federal bureaucracy with the notorious “Schedule F” executive order toward the end of his term. Nothing came of it except bureaucratic confusion.

The problem for Trump and his inner circle is that there are just not enough competent right-wing lawyers and policymakers who could come into an unfamiliar agency and redirect it effectively. Agency heads, given conflicting orders to implement draconian Trumpian policy and replace thousands of experienced staff with hacks, will most likely accomplish neither, instead finding themselves embroiled in lawsuits from fired employees.

Moreover, Trump has already announced that he doesn’t want Federalist Society lawyers in his government, since too many of them – including his two attorneys general, Jeff Sessions and Barr – turned out to be more loyal to the country than to him. But where, then, will he find legal expertise? With the Federalist Society having established itself as the main source of ambitious conservative lawyers, Trump has committed himself to a vanishingly small pool of talent.

Trump neither knows nor cares that a president cannot simply order the federal bureaucracy around. A president must cajole, compromise, and plead. But even if Trump does that, government investigators and prosecutors will not bring cases against people like Barr and Kelly, who have committed no crimes. If they are somehow forced to, expect mass resignations, leaks, public repudiations, and a field day for the press. Judges will throw out the cases, and juries will not convict. Kagan thinks that if Trump wins his current trials, judges will be afraid to rule against him if he becomes president. This both overstates Trump’s current legal jeopardy and vastly underestimates the integrity of the judiciary.

Make no mistake: a second Trump term won’t be pretty. But expect turmoil (again), not dictatorship.