Is it possible to build an entire political philosophy out of hating George Soros? Nothing delights the European hard right more than demonising the financier, who has spent billions in recent decades bankrolling lefty-liberal causes. Viktor Orban, prime minister of Mr Soros’s native Hungary, has plastered his nemesis on billboards as a symbol of dastardly “globalism”. Giorgia Meloni, his counterpart in Italy, once denounced Mr Soros as a “usurer” trying to sway her country’s politics (the antisemitism was presumably unintentional). Marine Le Pen, leader of the National Rally (RN) in France, has questioned whether NGOs funded by Mr Soros secretly hold sway over European courts. On the less moderated bits of the internet, where antisemitism is often entirely intentional, the populists’ supporters share theories about their bogeyman’s role in orchestrating the covid-19 pandemic, alongside the World Economic Forum and others in the global elite.
The Soros-bashers have the political wind in their sails. At European elections on June 6th-9th, the various parties of the hard right are on track to win a quarter of all seats, up from a fifth now. For the first time, polls show they may jointly have more members of the European Parliament than any other single political grouping, narrowly edging out the centre-right. Given that the leadership of the European Commission, the EU’s powerful executive arm, is meant to go to the leader of the biggest party, that might have been a political earthquake. Instead the elections will result in the mildest of tremors. For one thing, the broad alliance of centrist groups that have traditionally run the show will still enjoy a majority, albeit a narrower one than before. For national-conservative types to mount a challenge to that status quo would require them to form a coherent and united alliance. Yet as much as the hard right detest Mr Soros, they manage to loathe each other nearly as much. Not since Napoleon fielded his army has Europe seen so many divisions at work.
Europe’s hard right is broadly split into two camps. Nearer the political centre are soft Eurosceptics, who tend to sit together in the European Conservatives and Reformists (ECR) party. Some, like Ms Meloni’s Brothers of Italy or the Sweden Democrats, have roots in post-fascist movements and members prone to saying quite nasty things. Others like the Law and Justice party of Poland are merely recreational xenophobes, alongside Mr Orban (whose Fidesz party may one day become part of the ECR). Further to the right is the Identity and Democracy (ID) grouping. It includes Ms Le Pen’s outfit as well as Alternative for Germany (AfD), which is currently out-polling all three parties in the ruling coalition, as well as the PVV of Geert Wilders, which came top in Dutch elections in November but has yet to form a government.
Grandees of the hard right emphasise all they have in common: a belief Europe has taken in too many migrants, a desire to roll back the EU’s power, a dislike of the supposed “woke” dictatorship. But the splits in ideology are stark. Take foreign policy. Mr Orban and Ms Meloni may soon be in the same political grouping. Yet their views on Ukraine make Trumpism seem coherent. Mr Orban is an unabashed fan of Russia’s Vladimir Putin and of the former American president, whom he is due to meet in Florida on March 8th. Ms Meloni, in contrast, last week visited the White House to chat about supporting Ukraine, and got a fatherly peck on the forehead from Joe Biden, who would be best advised not to try the same trick with Mr Orban. Hard-right parties in Poland and Estonia are defined by their hatred of all things Russian, while their ally in France received a loan from a Russian bank.
The question of whether to remain in the EU is just as thorny. The French RN used to advocate for leaving, but has changed course on the issue in a bid for centrist appeal, as has Mr Wilders. Mr Orban and his erstwhile Polish allies think they can change the EU from the inside. The AfD and bits of the Austrian FPÖ meanwhile are still keen on leaving. Social issues are another source of friction. Most populists are culturally conservative, for example when it comes to gay marriage. But the Dutch hard right has championed gay rights—the better to bash Muslim migrants they fret would jeopardise the country’s innate liberalism.
Now a rift has opened up between the RN and its supposed allies in Germany, after reports emerged in January that some AfD members had discussed the “remigration” of foreign-born Germans (the party blamed the furore on the mainstream media, another recurring foe for populists). Ms Le Pen has spent years trying to make her party more respectable, going as far as to kick out its founder, her own father Jean-Marie, in 2015. She is not about to join forces with a party that holds views she has purged from her own outfit. For that reason the ID group is not even going to try to put together a joint manifesto ahead of the European elections.
The right stuff
The hard right is not the only political family with splits. But theirs tend to be deeper. That makes sense: in the zero-sum world populists often imagine, me-first nationalism is not necessarily compatible with a neighbour’s me-first nationalism. Many of the parties are essentially one-man bands that lack the experience to forge compromise with rival political forces, whether at national or EU level. For outfits used to being in opposition, ideological purity matters more than making grubby deals to enact policies.
After the June elections, the likes of Ms Le Pen and Ms Meloni will matter in Brussels more than they once did. Governments run by the hard right, such as Italy and possibly the Netherlands, will send envoys to be EU commissioners, and will expect important portfolios once reserved for centrists. Taken as a whole the populists will have more power to oppose Euro-schemes, whether aiding Ukraine or adopting more green rules. But real influence will require them to agree on what they want rather than just what they oppose. Griping at those in power is a lot easier than wielding it. ■
Read more from Charlemagne, our columnist on European politics:
Is Europe’s stubby skyline a sign of low ambition? (Feb 28th)
Europe’s generosity to Ukrainian refugees is not so welcome—in Ukraine (Feb 22nd)
How not to botch the upcoming EU leadership reshuffle (Feb 14th)
Also: How the Charlemagne column got its name
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The Link LonkMarch 07, 2024 at 09:16PM
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Fifty shades of brown: how splits in Europe's hard right sap its power - The Economist
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