The Future in the Grip of Populism

The recent anti-migrant protest in Jelšane, organized by the mayor of the small Slovenian city of Ilirska Bistrica, couldn’t have come at a more telling moment. Just weeks before the European elections, we were given a snapshot—like a petri dish—of the state of our society. It offers insight into who we are, where we are, and where we’re headed—in Jelšane, in Slovenia, and in Europe.

The most striking image was undoubtedly the elderly woman captured on camera beating the pavement with a Slovenian flag, shouting, “Nobody’s gonna screw me!” She threw in some choice insults aimed at those she believed were trying to steal her country. She made no secret of what she’d like to do with—or to—them.

Some saw pain and fear in her outburst; others saw blinding hatred and a loss of dignity and reason. Honestly, one does not exclude the other. I don’t know what led her to such a state—perhaps personal hardship that might warrant our compassion. Perhaps.

But both pain and hatred are core ingredients of the populist political paradigm, which exploits legitimate frustrations, turning them into fear, prejudice, and rage, and channeling them toward scapegoats—whoever fits the bill. Today it’s migrants. If there aren’t enough of them, feminists, women in general, LGBTQ+ people, Jews, Muslims, or any other minority can serve just as well. It’s easier to manipulate people who are blinded by hate.

The woman’s outburst in Jelšane was not just symbolic of populism—it was textbook populism in action. The frenzied flag-waving, profanity, and threats of violence illustrate the modus operandi of populist “solutions” to any issue. It’s not a reaction; it’s a political strategy. No matter the challenge—climate change, security risks, migration—populism always offers the same answer: a chance to vent bile. Real, effective answers? Populist politics isn’t interested in them. “Nobody’s gonna screw us!” is a response to every challenge we face.

Most of today’s pressing problems require rationality, cooperation, and solidarity—three things you won’t find in national-populist politics. Instead of solutions, they offer anger. Populist leaders act much like that woman in Jelšane—except they’re not beating the pavement with a flag, but with the fates of their citizens.

Hatred fueled adrenaline may provide a short-term rush in times of anxiety, fear, or perceived threat—real or invented—but it wears off quickly. It’s about as effective as squeezing a stress ball. Only, in populism, you’re not squeezing rubber bananas—you’re squeezing your own vulnerable organs. By the time you realize that, it might be too late. The pain becomes unbearable. The damage, irreversible. That is how populism imperils not just the present, but future generations.

Beating the pavement in Jelšane may seem irrational, but irrationality in populism is intentional. A deliberate abandonment of reason, facts, and logic is a key part of the populist model. You can’t manipulate thoughtful people as easily.

The same applies to lies. Absurd conspiracy theories spread like wildfire on social media, but they serve a very real purpose. This is the digital-age renaissance of what social Darwinist Hermann von Keyserling called the “führerprinzip.” As Hannah Arendt wrote, the leader is always right. Repeating the leader’s lies becomes a ritual of loyalty—a rejection of independent thought and a submission to the one and only truth. The bigger and more outrageous the lie, the stronger the bond between follower and leader. It’s a kind of mental training, preparing people to obey blindly.

Then there’s fear. It’s often cited as the catch-all excuse for extreme views, prejudice, and even violence. “We don’t support it, but you have to understand—people are afraid.” Sure, fear is real and can be justified. But it can also be manufactured, stoked, and exploited. It must not become the universal alibi for cruelty and inhumanity.

Take the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a completely fabricated pamphlet produced in Tsarist Russia and widely distributed by antisemites from Henry Ford to the Nazis. Its aim was to instill fear of Jews, alleged to be plotting global domination. That fear was artificially created—but deeply felt. And it unleashed a landslide that convinced ordinary people to accept—or even participate in—the murder of six million. That same fear is being stoked again today through new conspiracy theories, resurgent antisemitism, and mainstreamed hate.

National-populism hinges on a black-and-white view of the world: the pure people versus corrupt elites and parasites. But this simplistic binary isn’t limited to the far right. Elements of the left also push a broad-brush anti-elite narrative that fuels the same mechanisms of resentment and conspiracy—and even feeds antisemitism. Fighting social injustice is one thing. A cultural revolution is another. The line between the two is often blurred.

Populism is trying hard to pass itself off as classical conservatism—a renaissance of the true people's right. In this framework, those who defend liberal democracy, anti-fascism, human rights, dignity, solidarity—the values on which European integration was built—are labeled radical leftists, commies, or Stalinists.

That’s absurd. These are civilizational values, and it was conservatives and Christian democrats who built the European project on them. This should concern anyone claiming to be the political heir of Adenauer, Schuman, De Gasperi, and other EU founders. If nationalism, chauvinism, anti-anti-fascism, and authoritarianism now define the right, that’s a serious problem—especially for conservatives.

Sure, cozying up to national-populists might win them a few more seats. But it risks erasing their political legacy entirely. In 1946, in his “Let Europe Arise” speech in Zurich, Winston Churchill said the League of Nations didn’t fail because of its principles—but because the founding states abandoned them. There’s a lesson there—if we’re willing to learn it.

This year’s European elections are hugely important—and highly unpredictable. It’s not about which party wins: left, center, or right. It’s about how much support and legitimization will go to those who offer nationalism over cooperation, authoritarianism over liberal democracy, and flag-beating over real solutions.

At the end of May, we have the democratic power to choose Europe’s future—and our own. The outcome may well determine whether we’ll still be allowed to choose in the future at all.