Chicken Sushi

When Georges Marchais, the long-time general secretary of the French Communist Party, was invited to speak on French radio three days after the fall of the Berlin Wall, he declared that the Eastern European experience with socialism had been "globally positive." Many residents of the countries who had to endure that “global positivity” firsthand would likely disagree. Georges Marchais is no longer with us, and the French communists are rapidly fading as well. The PCF has ceased to exist as a serious political force; much of its working-class support has been taken over by the far right, particularly the party formerly known as the National Front. And if today the ideological matron of Marchais’ former flock—Marine Le Pen—were invited to assess three decades of Eastern Europe’s democratic experiment, she’d likely be thrilled by the zeal with which people worn down by prior authoritarianism are now rushing toward a new one.

It’s difficult to sum up in a few words all that has gone wrong over the past thirty years. I believe we were too quick to assume we had it all figured out. Democracy, it turns out, is like chicken: at its worst when half-cooked. No matter how appealing and crispy the skin looks on the outside, if the meat around the bone isn’t cooked through, things can go seriously wrong.

Some say there simply hasn’t been enough time to establish a functioning democracy. For them, democracy is like an English lawn—you sow it, and then have to wait patiently for a few centuries for it to grow in strong and resilient. I’m not convinced. Perhaps time isn’t the main factor—careful gardening is. Or cooking, if you’ll forgive another metaphor. And judging by recent behavior, even eight hundred years after the Magna Carta, the English democratic chicken still bleeds when cut.

Others claim voters are to blame for the bitter taste of the democratic experience, since the choice lies in their hands. That’s true—but only partly. It's the classic chicken-and-egg dilemma: was it the blind hen or the rotten egg? Democracy—pluralist democracy, not “people’s” or illiberal democracy—requires more than an election every few years. There’s no simple fix for the hardened, half-cooked version of democracy shaped by early-carelessness and inconsistency after the end of socialist one-party rule.

We certainly shouldn’t look for answers in compromises between pluralist democracy and populist authoritarianism. Doing so legitimizes everything undemocratic and unacceptable about populism, and it’s doomed to fail. Populism does not—and cannot—compromise. Authoritarianism only takes a step back when it's preparing to leap forward.

Pluralist democracy, as the name suggests, is based on a plurality of opinions, on rationality, and on responsibility. Rationality calls for caution, because although responsibility is a noble virtue, it is often mishandled. That’s why pluralist democracy also demands constant and effective democratic oversight.

Populism, on the other hand, is based on concentration of power, on the infallibility of authority, and on obedience. For populists, power is not a temporary, law-bound, constitutional mandate—it’s a spoils system. Populists do not try to persuade; they intimidate. They don’t seek voters and supporters—they want obedient followers. They don’t build on trust but on blind loyalty. Their personality cult doesn’t tolerate criticism. They don’t accept responsibility or admit mistakes. They don’t unify, but divide, bribe, hate, and instill fear.

For populism, politics is not a democratic clash of programs and ideas—it is a battle for survival, in which defeat is unacceptable. Populists don’t need facts or truth. They claim credit for others’ achievements and deny their own failures. Their political discourse is built on myths, manipulation, and lies. The end always justifies the means.

Populists love to speak of unity and national interest—which, naturally, only they can define and defend. In this paradigm, any criticism or oversight of power becomes a betrayal of the nation. Efforts to unify different opinions, expectations, ideas, and approaches from the top down, in the name of unity, lead to dogmatism. Pluralist democracy does not demand artificial unity at all costs—such unity is often an illusion, since a society inevitably and legitimately contains diverse opinions and interests. Pluralism is built on democratic and cultural coexistence, dialogue, cooperation, and competition among differences.

After thirty years of democratic experience, politics is in disrepute. This erosion of political credibility—as a process and as a profession—should worry us. No matter what we think of those we’ve elected, rejecting politics just because we dislike politicians is pointless. No one says they don’t care about their health because they dislike their doctor—especially one they chose themselves.

Politics is a profession that should neither be the exclusive right of an intellectual elite nor void of expertise and integrity. Negative selection, personality cults, and an obsession with “new faces” are not exactly helpful—you be the judge.

Populism wants to frame the clash between liberal and illiberal democracy as a left–right battle. That’s simply not true. Liberal democracy and its civilizational values, despite what some may shout, were not invented by leftists. If anyone, Christian Democrats and conservatives had the biggest hand in its rise. One would also expect liberals—at least those who understand the fundamental mission of political liberalism is not to opportunistically buddy up with anyone—to be firmly on the side of liberal democracy.

Equally misleading is the projection of the left–right divide onto the media landscape. Media criticism of populism is not inherently leftist. That view reflects a deep misunderstanding of the media’s role in a democratic society. Let me offer a hypothetical example: if most media outlets in a country praise a polka-dot-orange government, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re all orange. It may just mean the government is doing a good job. And vice versa.

The idea of a “balanced” media landscape often assumes media should simply mirror political power dynamics, regardless of the government’s actions. But democratic principles don’t require “balance”—they demand independence, professionalism, and fidelity to journalistic ethics. Only then can the media fulfill its watchdog role, essential for a functioning democracy.

That doesn’t mean media can’t have opinions—but they can’t twist facts to fit them. Public media are not state media or government mouthpieces. Media independence is a vital but demanding imperative—it requires not only protection from political interference but also from abuses of ownership and other pressures. Beyond legal and professional safeguards, public vigilance matters. In a society of active, critical citizens with sound media laws, selling lies is just bad business.

Such active, critical citizenship doesn’t grow on its own. It has to be cultivated—and education plays a crucial role. Civic education is more than learning the national anthem or drawing the flag. It should transmit the knowledge, skills, and democratic values—above all, critical thinking—necessary for active citizenship. We need to restore respect and esteem for knowledge. Democracy needs thinking citizens, not yes-men—regardless of political stripe.

Ultimately, real democracy requires political culture. This means being willing to criticize oneself and those who think like you. The habit of excusing every blunder in your own camp by pointing to a worse offense on the other side normalizes and legitimizes indecency in society and politics.

People who sincerely believe in democracy must also hold themselves to higher standards of principle, consistency, responsibility, integrity, and political culture. Otherwise, we shouldn’t be surprised when voters begin to wonder whether there’s really any difference between politics that wants to be truly democratic—and the kind that’s raw to the bone.