It has not been a great couple of weeks for the world’s strongmen, the tough-talking hard men peddling a cocktail of nostalgic nationalism, toxic masculinity and appropriated victimhood.
The apparent routing of Russia in Ukraine has caused ripples through the strongman world. Even Putin has acknowledged that “no limits” ally China suddenly has concerns over the war. Pundits on Russian TV have been casting about for blame.
In the New York Times, Paul Krugman noted that the prospect of a Russian collapse would cause an existential crisis for Putin’s MAGA cheerleaders in the US. “The American right needed to see Putin as a leader made powerful by his rejection of liberal values; admitting that Russia... isn’t a great power would call the whole MAGA philosophy into question.”
Meanwhile, Donald Trump is preoccupied with his own problems, under pressure to explain why reams of classified documents, including highly sensitive ones, were found in a basement at Mar-a-Lago by the FBI.
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Then there’s Brazil’s tough guy president Jair Bolsonaro, nicknamed “Trump of the tropics”, who is facing an election in just over two weeks, which most polls predict he will lose. Boris Johnson – always at the fey end of the hardman spectrum, despite Trump bestowing on him the honorific “Britain Trump” – has been ousted as British prime minister, leading the Spectator to declare that “the strongman model of leader ends in farce rather than fascism here”.
Even the strongman cheerleaders of strongman chiefs seem to be struggling. Loudmouth hardman Alex Jones spent this week sitting grim-faced through the second of three civil trials to assess the damages owed over his claims that the Sandy Hook massacre in 2012 was a government hoax.
Vladimir Putin still has cards to play in Ukraine, as the pundits calling for a “scorched earth” retaliation keep reminding Russian TV audiences
Given all of this, it is tempting to claim that the era of the strongman is waning.
Strongmen would naturally beg to differ. Vladimir Putin still has cards to play in Ukraine, as the pundits calling for a “scorched earth” retaliation keep reminding Russian TV audiences. Bolsonaro insists the polls predicting his defeat to rival Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva are wrong, and has been hinting that the election could somehow be rigged. Remind you of anyone? Yes, Trump is planning his comeback too.
Incel leader
Alex Jones is old news in the strongman world now anyway, possibly on the verge of a “great replacement” by newer, cruder models – such as the spiritual leader of incels, Andrew Tate. Tate – who has gone from unknown to one of the biggest names on TikTok in less than six months – treats his fans to get-rich-quick schemes, advice on “fixing” their vegan girlfriends, and simulations of how he would assault any woman accusing him of cheating – “bang out the machete, boom in her face and grip her by the neck”. If you haven’t yet heard of him, just ask the nearest teenager.
The appeal of strongmen hasn’t actually faded, it has just gone mainstream. In his book, The Age of the Strongman, Gideon Rachman writes that one feature of the rise of strongmen – along with a cult of personality, contempt for the rule of law, the narrative of real people versus elites and the politics of fear and nationalism – is that the liberal media has been terrible at seeing them coming, mainly due to overconfidence and wishful thinking.
Tolerant, liberal Sweden’s swerve to the right last week was not as sudden or unexpected as it has been portrayed – to those who had been paying attention, it was entirely predictable. The right-wing, anti-immigration Sweden Democrats, born out of fascist and neo-Nazi movements in the 1980s, are now the second-biggest grouping in Sweden’s parliament.
Italy is demonstrating that strongmen don’t even have to be men – Giorgia Meloni, who has also “come from nowhere” and is now poised to become the country’s first woman premier, sneers at what she calls the “LGBT lobby” and talks about “ethnic substitution”.
Just because this political formula has yet to find firm expression in Ireland doesn’t mean it can’t. Modern Ireland loves to see itself as the exception – a bastion of tolerance and equality – but there are worrying whispers in the wind. The far right may still be politically tiny, but it has been having an outsize influence.
Google Trends shows that searches for ‘Andrew Tate’ are fifth highest of anywhere in the world here (North Macedonia and Albania top the list)
In recent weeks, as I’ve written, asylum seekers have had to be moved from accommodation in Finglas and in Kinnegad following both threatened and actual violence, reportedly orchestrated by the far right.
Meanwhile, Google Trends shows that searches for “Andrew Tate” are fifth highest of anywhere in the world here (North Macedonia and Albania top the list). And just look at how the cultural right’s resident philosopher, Jordan Peterson, packed out the 3Arena this week to listen to his mix of oddly homespun advice, climate denial and patriarchal fantasies.
None of this would mean much if it wasn’t for the fact that the grievances that gave birth to Trump, Brexit and the rise of the Swedish right – the sense of being left behind while elites thrive; a lack of trust in established politics; fears about the future; the feeling that things were better for previous generations – all clearly now exist here too. Employment may be at record levels, but having a job isn’t much solace when you have nowhere to live. More than 70 per cent of Ireland’s young people are considering emigrating, according to a survey this week.
The young are – rightly – angry, disenfranchised and demanding solutions. For now, it is Sinn Féin that is reaping the benefits. Its brand of left-wing populism has arguably acted as a buffer against more malign forces, something for which even its political opponents should arguably be grateful.
But it would be foolish to bet that the cult of the strongman is over, or that Ireland is somehow immune. The thing about strongmen is that they have a habit of coming from nowhere.