Hungary, my country, has in the past half-decade morphed from an exemplary post-Cold War democracy into a populist autocracy. A few eerie parallels have made it easy for Hungarians to put Donald Trump on their political map.
Prime Minister Viktor Orban has depicted migrants as rapists, job-stealers, terrorists and "poison" for the nation, and built a vast fence along Hungary's southern border. The popularity of his nativist agitation has allowed him to easily debunk as unpatriotic or partisan any resistance to his self-styled "illiberal democracy," which he said he modeled after "successful states" such as Russia and Turkey.
No wonder Orban praised Trump's victory as ending the era of "liberal non-democracy," "the dictatorship of political correctness" and "democracy export." The two consummated their political kinship in a recent phone conversation; Orban is invited to Washington, where, they agreed, both had been treated as "black sheep."
When friends encouraged me to share my views on the U.S. election, they may have hoped for heartening insights from a member of the European generation that managed a successful transition from Communist autocracy to liberal constitutionalism. Alas, right now I find it hard to squeeze hope from our past experiences, because halting elected post-truthers in countries split by partisan fighting is much more difficult than achieving freedom where it is desired by virtually everyone.
But based on our current humiliating condition, I may advise Americans what governing style to expect from the incoming populist-in-chief and what fallacies should be avoided in countering his ravages.
A first vital lesson from my Hungarian experience: Do not be distracted by a delusion of impending normalization. Do not ascribe a rectifying force to statutes, logic, necessities or fiascoes. Remember the frequently reset and always failed illusions attached to an eventual normalization of Vladimir Putin, Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Orban.
Call me a typical Hungarian pessimist, but I think hope can be damaging when dealing with populists. For instance, hoping that unprincipled populism is unable to govern. Hoping that Trumpism is self-deceiving, or self-revealing, or self-defeating. Hoping to find out if the president-elect will have a line or a core, or if he is driven by beliefs or by interests.
Or there's the Kremlinology-type hope — that Trump's party, swept to out-and-out power by his charms, could turn against him. Or hope extracted, oddly, from the very fact that he often disavows his previous commitments.