Why Precise Language is Paramount in Countering Populist Challenges to Liberal Democracy

In the July 2024 issue (Volume 76, Issue 3) of World Politics, Kurt Weyland — Mike Hogg Professor in Liberal Arts in the Department of Government at the University of Texas at Austin — argues that contemporary academia has seen a new bout of conceptual stretching. “The recent trend toward the loose and excessively broad application of dramatic terms — coup, fascism, as well as coercion, crisis, genocide, racism, refugee, terrorism and violence — has arisen from developments in the political world and, perhaps, from the activist urge to warn about looming threats to liberal democracy,” he argues in his article. “What scholarship as well as public intellectualism need, instead, are soberness and circumspection, anchored in the clear, precise application of major concepts… crucial, not only for the nuanced, differentiated description and explanation of the complex, often ambiguous developments in the political world, but also for the proper design and execution of well-calibrated, effective responses to the dangers that liberal democracy faces in the 21st century.”

In the second in our Storied Teller series — designed to extend World Politics’ content to a non-academic audience — the journal’s Executive Editor Emily Babson speaks with Weyland on the temptations and dangers of using imprecise terms for current events and the responsibility of the scholar in public discourse. 

What compelled you to write this?

I’d noticed that dramatic terms were being used more loosely and broadly, not only in public discourse, but also in scholarly work. What prompted me to write this was a historical accident: January 6, 2021. People said, “This was a coup attempt; Trump is a fascist,” and I finally had it.  

This wasn’t a coup. It didn’t have a clear plan for taking power. It wasn’t well organized. Trump wasn’t even there to guide it. We define a coup as an attempt to take power through organized coercion by military or police. This outburst of mob rage was not a coup. Also, Trump isn’t a fascist. The difference between a Hitler or a Mussolini and a Trump is vast. Trump doesn’t have a clear extremist millennial ideology. He doesn’t use organized paramilitary force to beat up his opponents. He doesn’t want to institute a totalitarian dictatorship.

These terms draw attention and get emotions up, but they aren’t justified at all, especially in scholarly work. We, as scholars, have a duty to precision, accuracy and clarity — to be circumspect and call things properly by their names, proportional to their severity.

How is the misuse or overuse of words like “coup” or “fascism” in contemporary academia a threat to democracy?

The overuse of these dramatic terms can backfire and be counterproductive. The threat that liberal democracy faces right now isn’t fascism; it’s populism. Populists deliberately stir up confrontation and provoke polarization. They “need” enemies, so that their followers support them as saviors. Therefore, they literally create enemies by turning politics into a war. If we mislabel them as fascists, we fall into their trap and heat up this polarization. They can shed crocodiles’ tears as victims of unfair, exaggerated attacks: “The establishment is calling us names!!” We need to avoid playing their games and use sober language — because in a shouting match, populists will always win.    

Also, calling these populists fascists misdiagnoses the real threat we’re facing. The biggest risk that populism creates for liberal democracy is what Steve Levitsky and Lucan Way call “competitive authoritarianism,” a comparatively soft version of authoritarianism that maintains some of the formal institutions of democracy, like multi-party elections. They allow opposition parties, albeit on an uneven playing field. They allow a good amount of freedom of speech. In Brazil, the newspapers and the opposition called Bolsonaro all kinds of names. But what Bolsonaro did in four years of government is fundamentally different from what Hitler did in three months as chancellor. In Nazi Germany, there was no opposition party. There was no freedom of speech at all. None of the populists we have seen — not Orbán in Hungary, not Erdoğan in Turkey, not Modi in India, not Trump in the U.S., not Bolsonaro in Brazil — have been able to or wanted to [do this]. These characters are nefarious and problematic, but not one of them has wanted complete autocracy.

Scholars, in their effort to protect democracy, need to reflect that substantial difference by using precise language. We need to identify what exactly is the problem to come up with the proper solution and the proper countermeasure. When a zookeeper deals with a runaway lynx, they don’t need to prepare for a runaway tiger.

Should the layperson also be better educated about the harms of overuse of such language?

It is our [scholars’] professional responsibility to clarify things and to put things in the proper perspective. We have expertise. We contribute theoretical understanding and conceptual validity. We know that, even if there are superficial similarities, if you go a little deeper, you’ll see fundamental differences between Trump and real fascists. The conditions that brought forth fascism are very different from the conditions that have brought forth populism now. When journalists publish fiery op-eds — “Authoritarianism is inevitable if Trump gets re-elected!” —we must respond, “No, it’s not inevitable. It’s not even very likely at all.” That’s precisely our role.

Would you encourage people then to use the term “populist” when they talk about Trump rather than “fascist”?

Absolutely. One thing I point out is the scholars who use the concept of fascism, like historians Timothy Snyder or Federico Finchelstein, don’t actually say that Trump is a “fascist.” Snyder called him a “pre-fascist,” and Finchelstein, “a wannabe fascist.” Others call him a “post-fascist,” and some people call him an “aspirational fascist.” They want to use the big term, but they know it’s not exactly the same thing. Therefore, they qualify and devalue it by using prefixes or adjectives. My problem with this type of concept formation — a diminished subtype — is what exactly does that mean? 10% fascist? 80%? What exactly are you saying?

To avoid all this imprecision, I advocate using classical concept formation, in which you define a concept by the necessary and jointly sufficient conditions. By those standards, Trump isn’t a fascist at all. Far from it. Sure, he’s a right-winger, a nationalist, undemocratic, etc., but that doesn’t make him a fascist. Throughout history, we’ve seen tons of right-wingers, nationalists, undemocratic leaders, and so on who have not been fascists. And Trump is one of those.

Would you advocate for scholars creating new terminology?

Political science has spent more than a hundred years coming up with a comprehensive, organized vocabulary for political phenomena. We have “populism” and different versions of populism, such as “right wing populist” which can be used for a bunch of these characters. Orbán in Hungary is a “culturally conservative populist.” We also have terms for the potentially problematic eviction or ousting of presidents from office. We have the conceptual tools. We don’t need to invent new terms. Let’s be precise.

Would you say there are any benefits to using dramatic terms?

People use these dramatic terms to mobilize people and to sound the alarm, but you want to sound the alarm in proportion to the danger that you face. If people constantly hear, “Here is a fascist. Here is a coup. Here is a genocide. Here is aggression,” there will be emotional exhaustion at some point. How many causes can people be mobilized [against]? You want to identify problems properly and not fall into that risk of the boy who cried wolf too many times.

To read Kurt Weyland’s World Politics article, “Concept Misinformation in the Age of Democratic Anxiety,” in full, please visit Project Muse