Political life in most countries appears to be in a period of profound transition. Rising abstention, the strengthening of anti-establishment parties, the ascent of the far right, and a pervasive distrust of institutions all paint a picture of a society searching for new equilibria — and one that, above all, seems to be in a state of permanent anger. The traditional political formations and ideological identities that defined voter behaviour for decades are being challenged as never before.
At the same time, anger and disillusionment are increasingly translating into political choice, and the vote is taking on an intensely emotional character — with tangible consequences for electoral processes. “An angry person only wants to be told they are right. No ifs or buts. And that is precisely where the impasse of modern democracies lies, because anti-establishment rhetoric doesn’t change the system — it merely indicts it,” Giannis Constantinides, Associate Professor in the Department of International and European Studies at the University of Macedonia, tells Phileleftheros.
He also stresses that the social and economic changes of recent decades — from globalisation and economic crises to migration and the technological revolution — are redrawing the political map. The traditional left-right divide no longer seems sufficient to explain contemporary electoral behaviour, while the personality of leaders carries ever greater weight in voters’ choices. “The rise of the emotional vote has entrenched the establishment versus anti-establishment dimension as a second axis of party competition. In many countries and electoral contexts, this axis has in fact become more pivotal than the classic left-right ideological one,” he argues.
Constantinides also addresses the question of abstention, explaining how it has emerged as a decisive factor in interpreting electoral outcomes. With abstention rates reaching as high as 50 per cent of registered voters, it is clear that results are being shaped asymmetrically by specific demographic and social groups. “Given the preference of those groups for more conservative parties, abstention appears to indirectly favour parties on the right of the political spectrum.”
In Cyprus, as in most countries, there is a widespread contempt for the political system. How do you explain this trend?
The contempt for the political system in western democracies is the natural consequence of the collapse of institutional trust. Why was that trust lost? First, because economic crises and widening inequality exposed the inability of political leaderships and the state to protect citizens. Second, because the spread of information through social media improved public awareness of corruption and a lack of transparency in public life. The two causes worked cumulatively. A citizen in financial difficulty found that they could not rely on public healthcare or on the state to tackle the cost of living — and at the same time was receiving information about politicians enriching themselves illegally, or handing out favours to their own people. Contempt was inevitable.
In many countries, there is a great deal of anger in society, which translates into a revenge vote. What does that mean for the political system?
Anger is an unproductive emotion. Consequently, a voting decision driven by anger is not productive — in the sense that it does not contribute to the formation of any new governance framework or institutional architecture, but simply functions as an outlet. The angry voter ultimately has no real demands. And without demands, the political system at its core does not change. So we find ourselves facing the paradox of the simultaneous rejection and preservation of the existing political system.
Is that, then, the explanation for the broad appeal of anti-establishment rhetoric — this “great anger”?
Precisely. Anti-establishment rhetoric is simple, it is emotional, it is adaptable. It suits an audience with no appetite for policy design or comprehensive analysis of consequences. An angry person only wants to be told they are right. No ifs or buts. And that is precisely where the impasse of modern democracies lies, because anti-establishment rhetoric doesn’t change the system — it merely indicts it.
Traditionally, the political system was built around the left-right divide. What holds now? Is there another fundamental cleavage today?
The rise of the emotional vote has entrenched the establishment versus anti-establishment dimension as a second axis of party competition. In many countries and electoral contexts, this axis has in fact become more pivotal than the classic left-right ideological one — in the sense that voters choose first on the basis of the distinction between establishment and anti-establishment parties, and only secondarily on the basis of ideological differences along that traditional spectrum. Moreover, those ideological differences relate more often to questions of identity — national or otherwise — and less frequently to the role of the state and the market in the economy.
So you would say that ideological identities as a criterion for voting are in retreat. Is the same true of social identities? As a specialist, what criteria do you see voters using when choosing a party or candidate?
Social identities have never been a strong determinant of the vote in Cyprus or Greece, largely because of the incomplete class stratification of those societies, which meant that class identities were weak. In both countries, party identification dominated as the primary driver of voting behaviour up until the economic crisis. The collapse of party identities — as a consequence of the sudden realisation that parties and the state had failed to protect citizens — left voters adrift, and therefore vulnerable to the influence of short-term factors: the revelation of a scandal implicating political figures, a party’s position on a topical issue, or the election of a new leader with a striking or unconventional personality. These are a series of short-lived factors that make voting choices highly volatile — not only from one election to the next, but often even within the course of a single campaign.
Why are left-wing parties losing their appeal and their electoral support in most countries? And to use Melina Mercouri’s phrase — why are they no longer liked?
The decline of left-wing parties in Europe is rooted, first and foremost, in the shrinking of their natural base — industrial workers — as a result of deindustrialisation, automation, and new forms of employment. Even that diminished base became alienated when centre-left parties, particularly the social democrats, adopted economically liberal policies and appeared to make their peace with capitalism. The rupture deepened when social democratic parties were at the helm of governments during the 2009-2010 economic crisis and became associated with the politically costly austerity policies of that era. Finally, the emergence of new issues in the public sphere — migration, gender relations — gave populist right-wing parties the opportunity to compete for the votes of working-class and less-educated groups, by investing in national and religious identity and successfully attracting those voters.
The role of the leader’s personality
How are electoral demographics shaping up today? Which groups are most likely to exercise their right to vote?
The question of unequal participation by different demographic and social groups in elections is emerging as a decisive factor in interpreting electoral outcomes — given that abstention is no longer a marginal behaviour but a very common and, increasingly, a deliberate choice. With abstention rates reaching as high as 50 per cent of registered voters, it is clear that if that choice is not spread evenly across all subgroups of the population, then the result is shaped asymmetrically by specific demographic or social strata. And the truth is that abstention does not affect all subgroups equally. Younger voters and those who are socioeconomically less secure abstain far more frequently. This means that, in practice, the composition of parliament and the government are chosen by older voters and higher earners. Given the preference of those groups for more conservative parties, abstention appears to indirectly favour parties on the right of the political spectrum.
Is the rise of the far right a cyclical or a structural trend? What drives it?
The rise of the far right is fundamentally structural in its causes, though it is clearly accelerated by specific circumstances. The precarity created among lower-income groups and lower-skilled workers by globalisation as an economic phenomenon, combined with the sense of identity loss produced by multiculturalism as a consequence of globalisation, represent structural changes that created fertile conditions for far-right politics. From there, various conjunctural events — the debt crisis of 2010, the migration flows from 2015 onwards, the Covid-19 pandemic — provided further opportunities for the growth of far-right rhetoric, whose central ingredient is the identification of enemies for the ordinary voter. The technocrats in Brussels, migrants from the Middle East and Africa, scientists and pharmaceutical companies — these were all ideal targets for demonisation that far-right parties could exploit as circumstances demanded.
Far-right parties are most often characterised by strong and popular leaderships. Do you think there is a broader trend towards more leader-centred party models?
The factor of leaders’ personalities — and of leadership more broadly — is gaining in importance following the collapse of party identifications and the considerably looser link between voting and social identities. In the case of far-right parties, leadership as a factor carries even greater weight: partly because these parties have no tradition of internal organisation, and partly because imposition — as opposed to consultation, consensus, or compromise — is understood as a core political virtue of far-right ideology. A domineering leader is therefore a reliable indicator of how such a party will exercise power. Beyond the far right, party leaders are capturing voters’ attention more broadly because they offer a simpler criterion for choice than ideologies, policy positions, or assessments of governmental performance.
Does this focus on personalities also entail a shift in political communication towards social media? Are traditional forms of campaigning — personal contact, press and television advertising — still necessary?
The explosive growth in social media use in western democracies creates the illusion that the electoral game is now played out entirely on that communication platform. But traditional forms of political campaigning are not finished. This is demonstrated by Peter Magyar’s recent electoral success in Hungary against Viktor Orbán, which was based to a very large extent on local visits to small towns across the country and on direct, face-to-face engagement with citizens. Social media ensures easy access to voters, but it cannot build close, lasting connections between politicians and constituents. A message or image that reaches someone via social media has a short shelf life and tends to be lost in the ocean of stimuli.
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