Central European culture wars: beyond post‑communism and populism

C E C W: B P-  P CENTRAL EUROPEAN CULTURE WARS: BEYOND POST-COMMUNISM AND POPULISM Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Ondřej Slačálek (eds.) PAVEL BARŠA, ZORA HESOVÁ, ONDŘEJ SLAČÁLEK (EDS.) Th e anti-liberal turn in Central Europe aroused a lively scholarly discussion to which this book wishes to contribute by providing a novel perspective. Th e recent illiberal upsurge is often ascribed to weakly rooted liberalism in the context of an unfinished transition, or, conversely, to the completion of the transition process in which populists turn against their erstwhile mentors from the West. Without separating Central Europe from global trends, the authors of this book look at a change in the political dynamics of post-accession Central Europe through the prism of the culture wars. Confl icts over values, symbols and social norms have marked the 2010s in strikingly similar ways across Central Europe. To some extent they replace the older, socioeconomic right versus left cleavage, and, at the same time, they highlight topics like gender, identity, sovereignty and globalization. Every Central European country has undergone deeply polarizing episodes in the aftermath of the 2015 refugee crisis, and some even before. In certain nations, these are linked to a strong national-conservative project, to religion or to traumas of the past, but there is no simple pattern. Th e book studies culturalized politics in a broadly conceived Central Europe – Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Austria and Croatia – and shows the various forms that culture wars have taken in the 2010s as well as their underlying logic. Series Humanitas series editor Radek Buben faculty of arts, charles university, 2021 CENTRAL EUROPEAN CULTURE WARS: BEYOND POST-COMMUNISM AND POPULISM Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Ondřej Slačálek (eds.) stávám se řečí This study is aresult of research funded by theCzech Science Foundation under theGAČR project ‘Culture wars and national secularisation processes in Central Europe‘ Nr.18-18675S. Reviewers PhDr. Veronika Frantová, Ph.D. Mgr. Miloslav Szabó, PhD. © Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Michal Kopeček, Ondřej Slačálek, Csaba Szaló, Jana Vargovčíková, 2021 © Charles University, Prague, Faculty of Arts, 2021 All rights reserved ISBN 978-80-7671-034-4 (print) ISBN 978-80-7671-035-1 (online : pdf) KATALOGIZACE V KNIZE – NÁRODNÍ KNIHOVNA ČR Central European culture wars : beyond post ‑communism and populism / Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Ondřej Slačálek (eds.). – First edition. – Prague : Filozofická fakulta Univerzity Karlovy, 2021. – 1 online zdroj. – (Humanitas ; 15th volume) Obsahuje bibliografie ISBN 978‑80‑7671‑035‑1 (online ; pdf) * 321.7‑021.485 * 32.019.5 * 316.7:32 * 316.733+304.44 * 316.42 * 316.323.7:316.42 * 323 * (4‑191.2) * (048.8:082) – antiliberalismus – Evropa střední – 2011–2020 – populismus – Evropa střední – 2011–2020 – kultura a politika – Evropa střední – 2011–2020 – kulturní změna – Evropa střední – od 1989 – sociální změna – Evropa střední – od 1989 – postkomunismus – Evropa střední – Evropa střední – společnost a politika – od 1989 – kolektivní monografie 321 – Politologie [15] Table of contents 1/ Introduction: How Post-communism Ends. Central European Culture Wars in the2010s Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Ondřej Slačálek 7 2/ From Narrating Dissidence to Post-Dissident Narratives of Democracy: Anti-totalitarianism, Politics of Memory and Culture Wars in East-Central Europe 1970s–2000s Michal Kopeček 28 3/ TheCultural Sociology of Hungarian National Conservatism Csaba Szaló 84 4/ TheDynamics of thePolish Culture Wars Ondřej Slačálek 127 5/ Czech Republic: Populism Without Culture Wars? Ondřej Slačálek 158 6/ Anti-gender Campaigns in Slovakia and theDissolution of theLiberal-Conservative Alliance Jana Vargovčíková 203 7/ ANew Austrian Kulturkampf? Zora Hesová 241 8/ TheMoment After: Culture Wars in aPolarized Croatia Zora Hesová 281 9/ Afterword Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová 325 About theauthors 354 Index 355 Resumé 360 introduction 7 1/ Introduction: How Post-communism Ends. Central European Culture Wars in the2010s Pavel Barša, Zora Hesová, Ondřej Slačálek Whereas theyear 1989 symbolizes thevictory of globalization and universalistic values in Central Europe, 2015 may stand for thereaffirmation of national sovereignty and cultural particularism. During therefugee crisis of that year, humanitarianism was rejected in thename of national identity, abstract moral principles were replaced with concrete obligations to one’s ascribed group and thememory of aparticular past superseded an open future for humankind. Christian heritage was invoked not in order to strengthen pan-human solidarity but rather for theopposite purpose: as abadge of one’s identity– national or European– that had to be defended against thethreatening Muslim Other. Reconfirmation of external borders, which reversed their softening in thewake of 1989, was complemented by theopening of adomestic front against those who insisted on human solidarity and multicultural coexistence. Simultaneously, theultra-conservatives started attacking gender equality and LGBT rights. Against these and other liberal norms adopted in theprocess of Western integration, they claimed theright of Central European (CE) countries to decide upon their way of life in asovereign manner– without interference from theWest, depicted as decadent precisely for its embrace of cultural diversity and universalism. This anti-liberal offensive was specified in two ways that have been often combined despite their logical incompatibility. Its protagonists either stylized themselves as thesaviours of theWest, protecting it from its own Introduction 14 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism ThePost-1989 Consensus Unravelled Yet thepost-communist narratives of aclash between two monolithic and timeless identities– whether projected in space as West against East or in time as theliberal-cosmopolitan future against thecommunist or national-conservative past– neglected thecomplexity of recent history. To break thespell of those two dichotomies, we suggest shifting attention from adiachronic to asynchronic perspective. Our working hypothesis is as follows: What happened between 1989 and 2015 cannot be encapsulated in thestory of aliberal and Westernizing revolution which then provoked anationalist and conservative backlash. It is rather astory of aliberal-conservative consensus that was established in the1990s and which unravelled in the2010s– in some countries even during the2000s (Rupnik 2018). Like any other hegemonic configuration (in theGramscian sense), theconsensus contained ideologically diverse elements which can be schematically subsumed under liberal and conservative, assimilationist and nationalist poles. Thebalance between self-colonization (entailed by joining theWest) and self-determination; universalism and particularism; abstract principles and concrete identities; emancipation and protection; and enlightened reason and national (hi)story was tilted in favour of theformer pole. Thecompromise was made palatable for thesubordinated pole by aparticularistic interpretation of theWest: National conservatives wanted to belong to Western civilization not because it was– or should be– universal but because it was Western. Being part of theWest was believed to be the‘authentic’ core of thereconstructed identities of CE countries, not to mention theadvantages that came with membership in theclub of therich and powerful. Thebasis of the1990s compromise was undermined in the2000s. On the one hand, CE countries joined theWest whereby they reached thegoal of their post-communist trajectory and their political elites were looking for another project. Once themarket economy and liberal democracy were established, theoverlapping consensus of thecosmopolitan-liberal and national-conservative poles lost its raison d’être. On theother hand, reaching thepromised introduction 15 land– replacing adistant utopia of theWest with its reality– led inevitably to disillusionment. TheWest that used to be thesolution to theproblems of its inferior semi-periphery suddenly appeared to be struggling with serious problems of its own. Thehitherto subordinated pole of theliberal-conservative consensus split off and began to define itself as an antagonistic alternative to its former ally: Nationalists and cosmopolitans, traditionalists and rationalists, reactionaries and enlighteners parted ways. Both theneed to formulate another project (after thepost-communist project was at least formally completed) and theperceived crisis of theWest gave opportunity for nationally and conservatively minded members of post-communist elites to stop playing obedient pupils of theWest and start posing as its teachers. They endowed their nations or even thewhole of Central Europe with themission of saving Europe from its suicidal liberalism. Thenational-conservative side redescribed thepost-communist era as abetrayal of theoriginal promise of 1989, or as afailure. Westernizing liberals responded with their own version of an unfinished revolution in which themain culprits were national conservatives labelled as ‘populists’. Thechange in ideological direction is evident from thebiographies of prominent representatives of thetwo camps who redefined themselves by adopting retrospective teleological narratives. Today’s national conservatives such as Viktor Orbán, Václav Klaus, Miloš Zeman, Ján Čarnogurský or Janez Janša (to take only themost glaring examples) were all proponents of theliberalconservative consensus and diligently worked on theWesternization of their countries in the1990s and 2000s. Some of theleading representatives of today’s cosmopolitan liberalism such as Karel Schwarzenberg, Donald Tusk or Mikoláš Dzurinda, on theother hand, had always also claimed themantle of conservatism. Thenarrative of thepost-communist struggle of two camps with unchanged identities has an undeniable practical function for theactors and their constituencies, who need ameaningful story for their lives and for thecollective destiny of their nations. It should, however, be abandoned on theanalytical level. Instead of reproducing theillusion of an unchanged nature in political positions, academic research 16 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism should capture theways in which actors redefine their enemies and friends as new situations force them to transform their positions and reformulate their programmes. As they do this, they draw on ideological elements and discursive tropes which form arelatively stable repertoire of their political cultures. Themeanings of those elements and tropes, however, are not fixed but constructed by thevarying usage of theactors in new situations and by new political configurations of which they become part. Elements of thegiven repertoire cannot speak and act for themselves, they need theactors to do it for them. By doing so, they modify their meanings in unpredictable ways. Our framework deconstructs theretrospective narratives of unchanged identities through which actors give meaning to their struggle, bringing attention to thelongevity of discursive and ideological elements that form therelatively stable material to be reworked and reassembled with every new crisis. Whereas thediachronic framework of actors absolutizes thediscontinuities between thefirst fifteen post-communist years and the2010s, our research framework brings attention to thecontinuities between those two periods and, similarly, between them and thelast two decades of communism. Thetransition from one period to theother does not consist of asubstitution of one homogenous set of ideological elements with atotally different one (as if national conservatism replaced cosmopolitan liberalism which had previously replaced authoritarian communism), but rather it involves therearticulation of former elements into different relationships and hierarchies which aspire to form anew hegemonic formation. If theemphasis of actors on thediachronic axis looks for endogenous factors in theanti-liberal turn and, thereby, isolates Central Europe from thetransformation of thewider European and global world, our perspective puts theanalysis of recent political changes in Central Europe against thebackdrop of political changes in thewider regional and global context. Therise of neo-nationalism and ultra-conservativism in Central Europe was not aproduct of apurely endogenous dynamic in thepost-communist societies but, rather, part and parcel of thepan-European, if not worldwide, antiglobalist moment of the2010s. introduction 17 Six Post–Cold War Trajectories In order to undermine themental Iron Curtain which pushed many observers of theend of thelast decade to explain theCE anti-liberal turn exclusively through thecommunist past and post-communist transition, we have decided to extend theanalysis of thefour Visegrád countries (Hungary, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia), whose coordinated stance against migration in theEuropean Union and ostentatious Islamophobia made them paradigmatic examples of illiberal post-communist politics, to include Austria and Croatia, which had aless clear-cut location vis-a-vis theCold War bipolarity. Austria was not on thecommunist side of theIron Curtain, although it did not belong fully to theWest either: It was integrated into theEU only in 1995 and remains outside NATO. This borderline situation is precisely what makes thecomparison with thepostcommunist countries of Central Europe– which were all part of theAstro-Hungarian Empire and thus share asubstantial heritage– particularly meaningful. Thecountry reflects, in its own way, several of theCE trends. Croatia represents another EU member state that is defined by theAustro-Hungarian legacy. Although it was part of communist Yugoslavia, due to thefeud between Stalin and Tito in 1948 it never belonged to theSoviet Bloc and was closer to thenon-European nations of what used to be called ‘theThird World’. Its membership in theNon-Aligned Movement represented aparallel to Austria’s Cold War neutrality. In comparison with thepost-communist countries of our sample, Croatia’s transition to democracy was delayed by thepost-Yugoslav wars of the1990s, and its EU accession is more recent than that of theVisegrád Four. Its politics in the2010s were nevertheless strongly affected by thesame culture wars that erupted in other CE nations and, therefore, offer an interesting case for comparison. For thepurposes of this book, we will refer to thefour Visegrád countries and Austria and Croatia as ‘Central Europe’. Thepost–Cold War configurations varied greatly in those six countries due to different trajectories in thetwentieth century and thecontingent circumstances. Asubstantial difference separated 18 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism societies in which the‘national question’ was relatively settled upon thecollapse of communism, such as Poland, the Czech Republic, Austria and, albeit more problematically, Hungary, from those that had to solve it during thetransition, such as Slovakia and Croatia. Thelatter could establish their own synthesis of self-determination and Europeanization only after aperiod of ascendancy of thenationalist pole over theliberal one. Another difference pertains to thepolitical cultures of our six countries. Until theturn of thetwentieth and twenty-first centuries, thegap between right-wing conservatives and left-wing liberals was not as deep and unbridgeable in theCzech Republic and Austria as it was in theother four countries. Three Fronts of theCulture Wars Different profiles and dynamics cannot hide thesubstantial similarities among thesix countries, which have been strengthened by theanti-liberal turn of thelast decade. Between roughly 2010 and 2020, thedivisions between thecosmopolitan-liberal and nationalconservative camps (expressed in cultural, moral and philosophical terms) deepened and sidelined other– economic and political– specifications of theleft-right cleavage. This old-new split was established in aseries of confrontations which we call culture wars. Theterm is borrowed both from thenineteenth century Kulturkampf and from polarizing conflicts in theUnited States beginning in the1980s. Thesociologist J.D.Hunter (1992) reintroduced this concept to describe thebacklash of theAmerican conservative Right against thecultural and political liberalization of the1960s. Theideological conflict opposing conservatives and liberals has since developed into theprimary political cleavage and aligned with theopposition between thetwo main US political parties. As one author of this volume argues elsewhere (Hesová 2021), despite their differences, theWestern European culture wars that broke out during the2010s have had asimilar cultural and political logic to those of theUS culture wars. Since theoutbreak of morality conflicts about same-sex marriage in France in 2013, it is possible to speak of culture wars in an enlarged sense in Europe too. CE culture introduction 19 wars reflect some of theWestern European confrontations but have different centres of gravity. Conflicts over history and about collective identity (Rupnik, 2017) have preceded newer types of culture wars about moral norms. Since themid-2010s though, those three types of cultural confrontations have aligned with and intensified each other even if each has retained their distinctiveness. Accordingly, we distinguish three main fronts of theculture wars throughout thebook: (1) thepolitics of memory, (2) thepolitics of identity and (3) thepolitics of morality. Thepolitics of memory refers to conflicts over themeaning of crucial events of national history. Asalient, albeit not exclusive, place is occupied by thetwentieth century, especially World War II, therelationships to theNazi and Soviet empires and theHolocaust. With theunderstandable exception of Austria, another prominent place is taken by thecommunist period. Closely linked to and buttressed by thenarratives of thepast is thepolitics of identity, both ethno-national and religious-civilizational. Theformer is constituted by therelationship to other nations, thelatter by therelationship to other religiously defined civilizations and their representatives living in Europe. In the major confrontations of the2010s, conflicts developed around multiculturalism and migration, whereby Islam was framed as threatening Western civilization and thedemographic and cultural homogeneity of CE nations. Thethird type of culture war can be subsumed under thepolitics of morality. It pertains to recent repoliticization of theaccessibility of abortion, women’s rights, gay marriage or gender equality by ultra-conservative activists and politicians. Here, conservative norms have been used by various actors to attack liberal elites who had supervised themainstreaming of liberal norms in thepost-communist era. Against thebackdrop of thepost-communist transition, theopening of those three cultural fronts has usually been conceived by actors on both sides of thedivide as an attempt to reverse theprocess of assimilating Central Europeans into thehistorical narratives, identity and moral norms of Westerners. (1) If, in thepost-communist era, thetwentieth century and World War II were seen through theprism of Western European 20 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism memory, with its central focus on Jewish suffering and thevictory over fascism, in thelast decade there has been agrowing emphasis on thesuffering of CE nations and thevictory over communism. (2) Whereas in theprevious era, CE countries were supposed to subordinate their particular identities to theuniversalistic identity of theEuropean Union, defined by theEnlightenment and therejection of ethnic nationalism, in thelast decade some of their leading representatives reasserted particularism both at thelevel of their national identity (by stressing its ethno-cultural components) and at theEuropean level (by defining it as an exclusively Christian civilization facing an Islamic threat). (3) Finally, theideal of non-discrimination based on gender, race, ethnicity or sexuality– theacceptance of which was one of theconditions of accession for post-communist countries to theEU– was ridiculed by some mainstream politicians as an offshoot of ‘political correctness’ and demonized as an expression of thenew kind of ‘liberal’ totalitarianism. Accordingly, thepatriarchal family of ethnically pure, White and Christian nationals returned from thedustbin of history to which it had been supposedly relegated by liberals in thepost-communist era. Overview of Chapters By elaborating on continuities among theCold War period, thepost-communist transition and the2010s, thefollowing seven chapters undermine thenarrative in which every period is presented as an ideologically monolithic bloc which came to replace theprevious period as its opposite. In chapter 2, historian of political thought Michal Kopeček traces thegap between thecosmopolitan (or post-national) and nationalist (or ethno-national) versions of democratic political identity back to thediscussions of CE dissidents in the1970s and 1980s, theformation of dissident self-narrations and their projection onto national historical identity narratives. His analysis implies that theanti-totalitarian paradigm in its binary and treacherously exclusionary version, which moved to themainstream of thenewly established public spheres of Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic and Slovakia in introduction 21 theearly 1990s, put at an ideological disadvantage theliberal-progressive side of thepost-communist consensus and, simultaneously, allowed thenational-conservative wing of CE politics to reconstitute itself with thehelp of much of thepost-dissident conceptual repertoire (imaginary of totalitarianism, memory politics, civil society) that dominated in theearly post-communist era. Far from being awholesale opposite of theanti-liberal offensive of thelast decade, theideological configuration of the1990s prepared theground for thereinvention of CE national conservatism as aconfident challenger to thepost–Cold War consensus (that was redescribed retrospectively as apurely liberal and Western imposition upon thegenuine traditions of CE nations) in the2010s. Kopeček’s analysis shows that, far from negating thelegacy of opposition to communist rule and of thefirst decade of transformation, thenational conservative turn is among thepossible reconfigurations and actualizations of democracy discourses already present in theprevious era. In chapter 3, thecultural sociologist Csaba Szaló reconstructs hermeneutically Viktor Orbán’s national conservative discourse by showing how it reassembled and updated some elements of theHorthy era’s ‘Christian nationalism’. By contrasting thenarrative of thereplacement of 1990s liberalism with thereactionary conservatism of the2010s, he shows that Orbán took acue and incorporated elements from theliberal-conservative discourse (albeit in amoderated form) of theHungarian democratic forum of József Antall, in power between 1990 and 1992, and from his own Fidesz government in power between 1998–2002. When Fidesz lost the2002 parliamentary elections, Orbán abandoned thepost-1989 liberal-conservative compromise and started moving towards its national conservative alternative. Even if Orbánism operates along all three axes of theculture wars, therole of theunifying framework is played by thepolitics of memory: Themyth-history (C.Lefort) provides both theanchor for theidentity of Hungarians and thereasons why they– as thevictims of foreign powers (i.e., theEntente, Nazi Germany, Soviet Union) in thetwentieth century– should focus primarily on their protection against today’s enemies, such as Islam and Western Liberalism, and concern themselves with biological 22 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism reproduction by following conservative moral rules in personal life: restoring patriarchal family and extirpating ‘gender ideology’. As Ondřej Slačálek shows in chapter 4, an even more palpable continuity of conservative elements can be established in thePolish non-communist political culture between the1970s and the2000s. It is epitomized by thefigure of John Paul II, in whose vision theliberation from communism went hand in hand with theliberation from Western secularism and its ‘culture of death’ (Evangelium Vitae 1995). This continuity is visible above all in thetopic of banning abortion. Both thedeep interpenetration of conservative Catholicism and Polish nationalism and theprevalence of theantitotalitarian paradigm (which diverted attention from thedark sides of thePolish Right such as antisemitism by focusing on thecrimes of theNazi and communist empires which successively occupied Poland) can explain thestrength of thenational conservative wing of Solidarity (Solidarność) in the1980s. Despite its early demarcation from its liberal-conservative counterpart, its leadership (represented by theKaczyński twins) tempered both its nationalism and its conservatism in thename of fighting thepost-communist Left in the1990s. Once this Left collapsed in theearly 2000s, there was no need to compromise with theliberals who, on thecontrary, replaced thepost-communists as yet another cosmopolitan and uprooted group, completely alien to theconcerns of true Poles. Hardcore nationalist and conservative views that had been pragmatically muted in thepost-communist period could move to theforeground. Afullblown culture war opened on all three fronts of memory, identity and morality. Paradoxically, this situation can make theRoman Catholic Church’s position in Polish national identity weaker, and its conservative agenda, especially as regards gender topics, can lose its status of ‘compromise’ and become amuch more questioned object of political struggle. As Slačálek claims in thefollowing chapter, due to thedistinct political culture– theproduct of adifferent historical trajectory– theCzech case differs significantly from both theHungarian and Polish ones. Since communism was more easily associated with nationalism and even conservatism than with liberalism in the1990s, introduction 23 theliberal-conservative consensus of thepost-communist transition proved much more durable and resilient than elsewhere in Central Europe. In contrast to Hungary and Poland, national conservatives who asserted themselves on theright wing of theCivic Democratic Party (ODS; themain party to supervise thetransition) were not able to become aforce whose offensive would trigger ageneral restructuring of thepolitical field. This role was played by two ideologically much thinner actors: former social democrat Miloš Zeman and businessman Andrej Babiš. Theculture war between theformer and theCzech political and media establishment did not originally have acentre of gravity in ideologically substantive or moral issues but rather in formal and aesthetic ones: Zeman took on themantle of acultural plebeian loathed by thesnobbish Prague elite for his boorish manners (likened to those of thecommunist apparatchiks of the1970s and 1980s). Theanti-corruption and anti-political (i.e., technocratic) programme which lifted Babiš to power was similarly formal and ideologically empty. Czech political and media elites fought back with alarm: ‘Democracy’ was supposedly threatened by atwo-headed ‘populism’ associated with Orbán and Kaczyński. Thecharge that thetwo Czech populists were close to the Polish and Hungarian national conservatives gained credibility with the2015–16 refugee crisis as Zeman’s Islamophobia took on acentral place in his discourse, paving theway for an alliance with theequally Islamophobic head of theCzech Catholic Church. Babiš, too, began to play axenophobic and national-protectionist card, albeit still less vigorously than theright wing of ODS. Generally speaking, Babiš’s technocratic populism has tended to avoid culture wars and poses as a‘rational centre’ between extremes. This position has contributed significantly to thesuccess of his party. As Jana Vargovčíková shows in chapter 6, due to theneed to tackle thenational question (whose solution gave rise to Vladimír Mečiar, thenational-populist leader with autocratic inclinations), thedefinitive decision as to Slovakia’s post-communist direction and geopolitical orientation was postponed until 1998 when acoalition assembled around theChristian Democratic Movement (KDH). By theearly 2010s, however, theliberal-conservative consensus, on 30 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism revolutions of 1989. Ajourney ‘from amoral to ademocratic revolution’ (as Vilém Prečan characterized in anutshell theCharter 77 history in 1989), which opened apath towards political democracy, amarket economy and theproverbial return to Europe and theWestern community, where all these countries feel they have always culturally belonged. In this way thenarrative of dissidence served from 1989 on as apowerful myth of democratic revival– amyth in thegood sense, as astory of origins, as afoundational tale of community– underpinning thewhole liberal democratic transition process in theregion. Thepost-dissident Whig narrative’s counterpart in theinternational arena took theform of atransnational Whig narrative about therise of human rights to thepinnacle of international order and thelingua franca of theglobalized and interconnected world. It is astory that similarly describes thestruggle of human rights against all theodds and theobstacles of theCold War, starting with its founding moment, theadoption of theUniversal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948; through countless battles and contests over their interpretations and anchorage in international law between theWest, thecommunist East and theThird World; to thepathbreaking Helsinki Final Act and theensuing Helsinki effect leading to theannus mirabilis of 1989 (Richardson-Little 2015). TheWhig or liberal international human rights story served as thefoundational myth for liberal internationalism, thenew paradigm of theglobal order in the1990s, thePax Americana following thefall of thecommunist empire in Europe. In thelast decade and ahalf, this Whig interpretation of dissidence and of international human rights has been heavily contested from various angles. Although there have always been critical voices, especially in academia, it is only now, under theheavy artillery of political criticism and political struggle, that thecontours of thediscursive hegemony of this somewhat self-congratulatory liberal narrative, thetriumphalist story of thevictorious crusade of human rights, with dissidents and human rights activists as themain heroes leading thenon-violent, democratic revolutions of 1989, are becoming more visible. from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 31 This chapter maps out thedissident and post-dissident identity and memory politics before and after 1989 from the perspective of the evolving narratives of democracy that formed thebasis of the‘liberal’ or, better, the‘liberal-conservative consensus’ of the1990s, which however also contained theseeds of its discontent and challenges. Regarding thequestions of democracy and its narrativization, Ilean mainly on thedemocracy theories of French political theorists and historians such as François Furet, Claude Lefort and Pierre Rosanvallon. First, they devised theories of democracy where theelaboration of thepast and its representation has been understood as an inevitable part of ‘really existing democracies’. In their reading, thegenealogies or functioning narratives of democracy are not just an epiphenomenon of democratic life but an integral part of thepractical workings of democracy in modern history. Second, in contrast to themainstream anti-totalitarian liberalism, they understand thetwentieth century experience of totalitarianism as an intrinsic part of theevolutionary history of democracy. This creates auseful distance from an expedient interpretation of democracy as born out of thelife-and-death struggle with totalitarianism, which turned into apivotal political moralism of theliberal transition era after 1989. As theintention is to portray thedevelopment in broad strokes, Ifocus on afew symptomatic concepts in the dissident political thought and post-dissident narratives of democracy, namely theformation of dissident self-narrations and their projection onto national historical identity narratives at theturn of the1970s/1980s. Further, I explore the concomitant rise of civil society related concepts, of thetotalitarian imaginary and of therise of ‘memory politics’ within thedemocratic opposition. Thechapter outlines theway these crucial dissident concepts ‘translated’ into thenascent democratic political culture and, above all, thedemocratic political struggle at thebeginning of the1990s. Furthermore, it strives to follow their trajectories into theculture wars of the2000s. Thechapter hypothesizes that it was not some kind of deeply engrained, eternal propensity towards nationalist populism in theregion nor deeply rooted animosities between thesecular modernizing Left 32 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism and thetraditionalist, anti-Western Right. Rather, it was concrete political and cultural configurations and power conflicts drawing, indeed, on acertain cultural repertoire that enabled and empowered therecent illiberal challenge to the‘liberal-conservative consensus’ in theregion. It is highly significant but often overlooked that themost successful of these challengers do not come out from outside, but from within thebroad ‘liberal-conservative consensus’ of theearly 1990s. They belong to thesame ‘legacies of dissidence’ underpinning thepost-1989 consensus– perhaps not representing its centre but not its volatile margins either. Narrating Dissidence TheHelsinki effect dramatically changed thelanguage of international politics by lifting thestatus of human rights and international humanitarian law into apalpable subject of international politics and diplomacy in Europe and beyond (Thomas 2007, Eckel and Moyn 2014). Raising theissue of human rights above theubiquitous but non-binding human rights discourse promoted by theUnited Nations, theCouncil of Europe and other organizations, theprocess changed thecharacter of political opposition in Eastern Europe. Well known are thestories of Helsinki committees in theUSSR, later that of theWorkers’ Defense Committee (KOR; Komitet Obrony Robotników), Charter 77, theMovement for Defence of Human and Civic Rights (ROPCiO; Ruch Obrony Praw Człowieka iObywatela) and other so-called Helsinki groups that originated in thelate 1970s, as is their emphasis on human and civic rights as their underlying fundamental political, philosophical principles and thebasis for effective civic, nonviolent resistance. This canonized story became thebackbone of theliberal or Whig narrative of dissidence, playing an important role in cultural-political legitimization after 1989. TheHelsinki effect has over time been put in doubt for its unidirectional character (from West to East) and its simplified progressivist form. Current research into political and cultural dissent, but also thelocal historical memory always tended to picture Helsinki as apolitical opportunity more than from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 33 apoint of birth or amatrix of dissidence– apolitical opportunity that presented itself at theright time to be strategically exploited by thenascent democratic opposition. This is not to challenge theimportance of theHelsinki effect altogether. Western support for human rights as well as the‘Western gaze’ played asignificant role as much as the‘figure of dissident’, created mainly by Western journalists and Sovietologists, had apalpable ‘looping effect’ back in thecommunist countries (Szulecki 2019). Yet thewatering down of thesomewhat triumphalist story of theHelsinki effect, which allegedly brought Eastern European dissent into existence, is important conceptually. It shows that for ‘successful dissidence’ much more was needed than ‘merely’ international human rights law and human rights activism, both at home and abroad, albeit that too was conditio sine qua non. Apart of thecurrent research is thus rediscovering what was well known to theoppositionists themselves as well as to thelocal historians of democratic opposition: namely therich pre-Helsinki maturing of thefuture dissidence, well before 1975, in various forms, from selfconscious political opposition to dispersed circles of social, civil and cultural resistance, which was an inevitable precondition for thepost-1975 Helsinki frame to work. One such precondition was an existing patchwork of identity discourses in terms of both theforming of theanti-communist opposition and thenational community, which represented dynamic cultural building blocks on which the‘Helsinki message’ could be built and adapted to local culturalpolitical circumstances. Theinfluence of thehuman rights discourse was rather indirect and strained through multiple cultural sifters. Rather than thedirect influence of human rights on oppositional identity, we can speak about abroader paradigm shift where human rights played an important but not exclusive role, nor was it even themost decisive. Acase in point is Jonathan Bolton’s acclaimed book Worlds of Dissent focusing on theearly years of theCharter 77 community up to 1980 and thecrucial role of dissident storytelling to thesense of group identity and community (Bolton 2012). He observes that while theChartist discourse was full of thelanguage of truth, through its 34 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism storytelling opposition circles thrived on their own myths and legends. Enhanced by thesignificant role of underground culture, for which legend-building was aform of existential expression, it played perhaps amore palpable role in theformation of Czech dissent than in any other dissident community in Eastern Europe. Bolton was not primarily interested in political programmes and dissident strategies, not even in political narratives and their long-term effects. But he shows illustratively how certain narratives acquired acanonical status as well as what it meant for streamlining thediversity of historical experience into ausable identity narrative. As he wrote in thebook’s conclusion, ‘If we say that Charter 77 emerged from thetrial of thePlastic People, we should realize that we are endorsing Havel’s “metaphysical” version of theCharter’s origin as an appeal to morality and conscience’ (ibid.: 271). Charter 77 was not only ahuman rights organization calling attention to abuses. For its members and sympathizers, it was also acommunity of shared values and shared stories– an interpretative community of sorts. Havel was, by all means, one of themost influential figures in Czech and Czechoslovak dissent. Through his generalizing narratives about theCharter, such as his famous essay ‘ThePower of thePowerless’ as well as through his first-person writings– theprime dissident genre– such as his only slightly less famous Letters to Olga or his book-long interview with Karel Hvížďala Disturbing thePeace (which has amore apt but similarly ironic title, ‘Long-distance interrogation’, in Czech), Havel was constantly shaping and polishing theChartist identity narrative. In asense Havel’s centrality was unique; he was thecentral organizational and unification figure within theChartist community and thus thedissident culture in Czechoslovakia, atrue leader of thecountry’s democratic opposition. He was one of themajor symbolic embodiments of dissidence for theWestern media and politics next to Adam Michnik, György Konrád, Alexander Solzhenicyn and Andrei Sakharov. At thesame time, though, Havel was one of theprimary narrators of Czech and Czechoslovak dissidence too. In June 1986 Havel wrote acontribution called ‘On theMeaning of Charter 77’ (Osmyslu Charty 77; in Prečan 1990: 161–176) from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 35 for aplanned collective volume recapitulating theten years of its existence. Briefly and in simple, approachable language (by Havel’s standard), he reiterated here thestory of Charter that he had elaborated over thecourse of thepast decade in his essays, interviews, petitions and declarations. Without any explicit reference to international covenants or Helsinki, Havel’s story of thebirth of Charter and democratic opposition was inscribed in thebroader international human rights evolution only in hints and indirectly through Chartist on-the-ground activism. Thebroader interpretative frame of Havel’s story was not formed by theinvocation of human rights, but by theassumption that thepost-1968 situation in Czechoslovakia was not only apolitical crisis but above all adeep moral crisis. As in most of his dissident writing, he juxtaposes therealm of politics and therealm of values and morality. This makes Charter not so much a political programme but a primarily moral and civic initiative, Havel wrote, with an obligatory reference to Jan Patočka as thesource of this particular understanding. But thecentral category of theessay summarizing Havel’s thoughts on Charter’s identity and themeaning of its existence represented thecontradiction between politics as arealm of thetemporary and civic virtues (občanství), as arealm of theinfinite. Politics is changing, political programmes arise, live and then disappear, but real politics can only exist on thegrounds of a‘renewed sense of citizenship’, which Charter was supposed to help to bring about (ibid.: 166–167). The dissident republic of letters was a matrix out of which thesense of their own situation and activity was constantly being recreated. But it was also acompetition of sorts between various proliferating narratives: which of them would eventually get theupper hand. In other cases, such as those in Hungary or Poland, we do not find an exact counterpart to Havel in terms of his centrality to dissident self-organization and the narration of hisexperience. But also in those countries, some of the‘interpretative communities’ within thedissident circles were more influential than others, with some of them having amuch more direct connection to their counterparts in other bloc states and, importantly, to Western media (Brier 2011; Szulecki 2019). Thevarying influence of different 36 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism discourses, cultural preconditions and ideological predilections has found its representation in thediversity of thegeneral ideological leanings and thus also prevailing narratives of dissidence in theindividual countries. Roughly speaking, whereas in theCzechoslovak case Charter 77 gave thedissident narratives astronger rights-based character and moral philosophical underpinning, thePolish dissidents understood themselves more clearly and unequivocally as apolitical opposition; theHungarian opposition for their part stood somewhere between thetwo (cf. Thaa 1996, Pollack-Wielgohs 2004). What was common to all of them, however, was thecentrality of thecivic principle, encouraged by thepolitics of human rights rising in importance within thedissident strategies of new evolutionism (A.Michnik), radical reformism (J.Kis, G.Bence) and anti-political politics (V.Havel, G.Konrád). Yet, in general, we should not project thediscursive hegemonies of thepost-1989 era back on thehistorical reality. Despite theheavily one-sided Western narrative of dissidence focusing on theselect few, such as Havel, Konrád and Michnik, and despite thepolitics of consensus fostered in theopposition– that is, asteady effort at broad consensus-building with theaim of unifying theoppositional forces around the‘anti-political’ cause of social self-organization and human rights defence– theintra-oppositional plurality thrived. Theeffervescent literary culture, with its manifold storytelling, was growing independent of oppositional political exigencies supporting afundamental plurality, which was itself not just surviving but thriving towards theend of the1980s. Needless to say, different identity narratives had varying weight in thedissident community and thus very different followings. Re-narrating theNation If first-person dissident storytelling proliferated in samizdat and formed thebasis for theidentity-building of theopposition, as Bolton has shown, thehistorical essay, no less flourishing asamizdat genre, formed thebasis of awider-ranging identity-building project that translated or applied theparadigm shift happening in theopposition from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 37 to thewhole national community or body politic. Thenumerous and sometimes fierce discussions about national history, its meaning and reinterpretations as well as national political traditions and their legacies concerning thedark-sides of national histories testify to thepersistence of thepolitical fissions within theanti-communist oppositions, involving arange of political identities, from former (reform)communists to all different kinds of socialists, Trotskyites, anarchists, cultural (proto-) and economic liberals, Catholics, Protestants, various kinds of conservatives and nationalists, and, on top of it, all possible combinations thereof. Political differences were temporarily overcome in thename of thestruggle against tyranny but were never completely reconciled. These fissions and cleavages were later thematrix out of which amajor portion of thepost1989 political spectrum in theregion would be born and, along with it, themost influential post-dissident narratives of democracy. Theemancipatory power of human rights discourse could hardly be separated from national cultural and historical frameworks. Both theuniversalistic claim of human rights and their context-bound elaboration or ‘localization’ (Szulecki 2011) contributed to various critical reappraisals of traditional national patriotic projects in thedemocratic opposition, whether they were articulated in civic republican, liberal nationalist, communitarian or other fashions (Auer 2004, Ciżewska 2011). In their bid to extend theborders of thebody politic and reach beyond thenarrow dissident circles, some of them claimed that nationality, rather than citizenship, ensured solidarity among thepopulation at large. Theideal of participatory democracy driven by active and self-reflective citizens was shared by many dissidents before 1989 as well as after it. However, drawing from various domestic political traditions, many dissident thinkers and strategists understood that it was politics rooted in aparticular cultural tradition– politics in thevernacular (Kymlicka 2001)– that had achance to push thepolitical community forward toward thedemocratic ideal, and that this could be asource of active participation in democratization and, later, democratic politics. National identity as an active discourse stood at thevery centre of debates in samizdat and in exile journals during thelast two decades 38 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism of socialist dictatorship (Feindt 2015, Trencsényi et al. 2018). Debates over thelegacies of historical figures such as Bernard Bolzano, Tomáš G.Masaryk, Józef Piłsudski, Roman Dmowski, Oszkár Jászi and István Bibó created an intellectual space where different conceptions of nationhood and different principles of belonging competed for dominance within thecommunity of oppositionists. Influential dissident writers such as Adam Michnik in Poland, Petr Pithart in Czechoslovakia and Miklós Szabó in Hungary adopted acritical stance towards traditional national historical master narratives and aspired to redefine national identity in order to pass over theilliberal legacies of ethno-nationalism and to accommodate theuniversal claims of human rights discourses and modern, pluralist democracy. This also meant reconsideration and critical evaluation of thetraditional historical narratives about thepre-communist democracies such as thePolish noble democracy or theSecond Republic, theHungarian Reform Era and thefailure of democracy after 1918, or theCzechoslovak interwar republic. These, in thepassion of antiregime struggle, sometimes tended to be treated uncritically as past golden ages of homegrown democracy. Rather well-known today are thecritical, civic patriotism projects standing as counter-concepts against thetraditional ethno-national identity, which led to heated discussions among thedissident community. Thetwo most renowned examples are, in theCzech case, Petr Pithart’s 1979 essay ‘Attempt of Homeland’ and, in thePolish case, Jan Józef Lipski’s ‘Two Fatherlands, Two Patriotisms’, written during theheyday of legal Solidarity in summer 1981. Both are prime examples showing illustratively theproductive, but also uneasy coexistence of human rights discourses and thesearch for usable national political traditions or historically reflexive national identities (Kopeček 2012). They originated in arather different context but had one basic common feature: historical self-criticism as aprecondition for reconciliation, calls for aself-reflective and active citizenry, as well as for national democratic, civically-founded unity against thecommunist Leviathan. Theidea of apossible historical compromise corresponded with thehuman rights based anti-political vision of consensual and compromise-ready politics. from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 39 Very similar ideas, strategic considerations and historical visions reconstructing thetraditional national sense of belonging appeared also in theother national cultures in East-Central Europe, not least in Hungary and Slovakia. Due to somewhat different cultural contexts, regime structures and thus also thestructure of theopposition, we do not find here an explicit formulation of dissident civic patriotism but ageneral ‘logic’ to theoppositional political thought, with adrive for ahuman rights based anti-political consensus and historical compromise that was very similar (Trencsényi et al. 2018). In Hungary, theissue of national consciousness and patriotism among dissidents connected directly to previous debates in Marxist historiography and were particularly influenced by Jenő Szűcs’s historicization of theconcept of nation, arguing against any anachronistic projection of themodern post-Romantic national viewpoint onto thecomplex historical reality (Szűcs 1974). György Litván’s and Péter Hanák’s work on ‘Danubian patriotism’ and Oskár Jászi and thecivic radicals’ development of apolitical identity which envisioned amulti-ethnic and democratic cultural-political community exemplify thesearch for an alternative discourse of collective identity to both communism and ethno-nationalism (Litván 1978, Hanák 1985). Asimilar role was played by some of theSlovak dissident intellectuals such as Miroslav Kusý, who in his 1980s essays castigated Slovak national Romantic self-delusions and permanent self-victimization and called for theabandonment of intoxicating ‘national optics’ in favour of astruggle for political and civic rights instead of supposed national oppression (Kusý 1991). Intellectually interesting as these various civic and liberal patriotism projects were, they did not represent theoppositional majority. Standing for theinternationally most visible left-liberal or radical democratic part of thehuman rights opposition, they were surely not insignificant. But it would be misleading if they were to be taken as representative of the‘dissident view’ in general. After all, most, if not all of these concepts were reactions to amore or less palpable rise, especially in Poland and Hungary, of national sentiments and nationalist tendencies in theranks of theopposition and thebroader society. 46 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism strategists. Atelling example is thefamous tip of theiceberg metaphor used by Havel in his essay ‘ThePower of thePowerless’ where he spoke about theactivities of the‘dissidents’ and their relationship to thebroader society. He described them as ‘theproverbial one tenth of theiceberg visible above thewater’, which made it possible for dissidents to think about themselves as part of themuch larger ‘independent life of society’, the‘most visible and, at first glance, themost political (and clearly articulated) expression of it’ (Havel 2018: 386)– dissidents as non-elected but committed representatives of society writ large. Yet thedissident perspective that Aleksander Smolar in hindsight characterized as an ‘ideology of moral civil society’ soon came to dominate thediscourse of civil societies in Central and Eastern Europe, leading to asituation where other civil society manifestations, which frequently did not call themselves civil society, were overlooked in research and in democratic narratives after 1989; these concerned, for instance, thereligious communities beyond those directly participating in dissent but also therather booming socialist civil society supported by thestate or therising socialist middle class (Buchowski 1996). Many of these civil societies would later, after 1989, be conceptualized as belonging rather to the‘uncivil society’, prolonging post-communist syndromes or cradling traditionalist values at odds with themodernization and Europeanization of thetransition era. (Kopecky and Mudde 2013). Moreover, it was also effectively challenging theopposition credentials of thenationally minded groups. In speaking the language of civil society, they [left-liberal dissidents] were implicitly challenging the traditionally dominant ethnic conception of the nation with a nonethnic, political concept. By promoting civil society rather than ethnic community, they were not only proposing a wholly different way of defining ‘us’ and ‘them,’ but also suggesting a different way of looking at both the past and the future. (Smolar 1996: 25) Thebinary nature of thedissident civil society notion which tended to counterpose society and state against each other found its counter- from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 47 part in thereturn of imagery concerning thetheory of totalitarianism in dissident political and historical writings. As noted by theearly analyst of this phenomenon Jacques Rupnik, thedissident revaluation of thetotalitarianism concept was surely not unreflected, areturn to an old-fashioned instrumentarium abandoned at that time almost completely in Western Sovietology. It was anew attempt to redefine theconcept in light of several abrupt reformist projects (1956, 1968, 1980–81) that showed thecommunist system was changing. Yet their ultimate failure was, at thesame time, calling for theidentification of thesystem’s ‘non-changing core’ that, after all, potentially remained totalitarian (Rupnik 1988). Thenew dissident attempts to grasp thetotalitarian nature of thesystem were accompanied by are-reading and re-evaluation of theolder thinkers of totalitarianism such as Orwell, Koestler, Miłosz, Djilas and contemporaries such as Solzhenitsyn or Zinoviev. It is symptomatic that themajor inspiration for thedissident writers was literary rather than that of political science related to thewell-known Friedrich and Brzeziński model. One of themain assets of theclassical theory of totalitarianism– that is, acomparison of Nazism and Stalinism– did not figure prominently in thedissident analyses as most of them were focused on communism. (Śpiewak 2003). Yet theimplicit comparison was always there, and theliterary inspiration that enabled therelatively wide usage and malleability of theterm also helped to keep thequestion of themoral equivalence of Nazi (fascist) and communist totalitarianism relevant. Totalitarianism became acommon denominator of dissident writing, yet in various different modes. For thesake of clarity, Iwould distinguish between two opposite poles of thescale: totalitarianism as an analytical model and usable totalitarianism as amobilization tool. In careful political analyses aware of theideal-typical character of theconcept thedifference between the‘really existing socialism’ of the1970s and 1980s and theStalinist years was acknowledged. For instance, Havel uses in ‘ThePower of thePowerless’ and other essays theconcept of ‘totalitarianism’ as an analytical tool, which in his writings underwent arather significant transformation. As is well known, he does not speak about atotalitarian but a‘post-totalitarian 48 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism order’, which he characterizes as theresult of the‘historical encounter of dictatorship with consumer society’. Yet he stressed, ‘Ido not wish to imply by theprefix “post-” that thesystem is no longer totalitarian; on thecontrary, Imean that it is totalitarian in away fundamentally different from classical dictatorships, different from totalitarianism as we usually understand it’ (Havel 2018: 358). Theconcept did have enough analytical value for thewriter to use it and build his analysis on it when comparing, for instance, therole of ideology, terror, violence, and so on, in a‘classical totalitarian’ system– although he barely says what he means by that, it is without adoubt Stalinism– and a‘post-totalitarian’ system. At thesame time, Havel is quite explicit in several places within thefamous essay that the‘totalitarian power system’ is kept unchanged in thepost-totalitarian order, which preserves as constant thefundamental identity of thepolitical order. Moreover, Havel himself, when writing in aless sophisticated mode to ‘broader audiences’ at home or abroad, often referred to thecurrent regimes in Czechoslovakia and other communist countries as totalitarian, not deviating from thegenerally accepted dissident-activist usage (e.g., Havel 1989: 99–135). In the broader strata of oppositional activists in the 1980s, theintellectual finesse was however lost. Here theimagery of totalitarianism or therhetoric of usable totalitarianism helped to phrase thepolitical discourse in an understandably dichotomous scheme. It started to draw clear-cut borders between Us and Them, between the‘democratic opposition’ and ‘totalitarian power’, ‘life in truth’ and ‘life in a lie’, between ‘democracy’ defined as theopposite of ‘totalitarianism’. Such anti-totalitarianism, having much more in common with theearly Cold War usage rather than thesophisticated social analysis by some of thedissident intellectuals, was atool of discursive war. It defended democracy against its major enemy, theexisting, allegedly totalitarian power. Yet it did not and could not try to explain what democracy should look like. Democracy was avision shared by theactivists of theopposition as well as many people outside its realm. Understandably though, nobody in theopposition, not even theexiled political emigrants, paid much from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 49 attention to what kind of democracy it should be after the‘totalitarian order’ crumbled. This oppositional mobilization development had been accompanied by asimilar tendency in theopposition’s memory politics. The‘national history discourse’ proved to be apowerful tool in thehands of theopposition. Themost obvious example in this respect was the‘exploding historical memory’ (Baczko 1994) of Solidarity in 1980–1981. From that time on, and despite temporary political setbacks, thehistorical discourse of Solidarity became themost emblematic and influential counter-hegemonic culture in East-Central Europe. The‘independent historical discourse’, as it was named, had already started to appear in samizdat publications during the1970s. But theupsurge of national liberation rhetoric in Solidarity reinforced thestrivings for historical research that from now on should not only be independent but, in fact, counterposed to theofficial communist historiography. Therevisionist historical discourse became afundamental part of Solidarity’s political and cultural production. In particular, themost recent historical periods underwent avigorous revaluation as it picked up on themost obvious historical taboos of theregime, such as theMolotov-Ribbentrop Pact, theKatyń massacre, the1944 Warsaw Uprising and thenotorious passivity of theRed Army, or theestablishment of thePolish communist regime in 1944–48. Historical discourse, especially with regard to thetwentieth-century Polish-Soviet relationship, turned into amoral-political battlefield against theregime. Less successful and overwhelming than in Solidarity’s case, theefforts to employ thepower of historical memory in thestruggle against socialist dictatorship were also detectable in Hungary and Czechoslovakia. In Hungary this concerned particularly theRevolution of 1956 and in Slovakia the1944 Slovak National Uprising. Symptomatic of themobilization usage of historical discourse were theattempts of Czech dissidents to raise the‘memory of thenation’ against theideological machine of state socialist dictatorship. Awellknown example is theCharter 77 document from 1984 ‘TheRight to History’. Thedocument, of very Orwellian diction, was issued, as usual, by thethree Charter spokespersons, with Václav Benda at 50 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism theforefront. Questioning theofficial Czechoslovak historiography and the‘politics of amnesia’ through which thecommunist power tried to manipulate and corrupt thehistorical memory of thepopulation, thedocument called for arenewal of ‘authentic national historical memory’ that should also include thereevaluation of those elements of national history labelled traditionally by communist historians as ‘reactionary’, such as Catholicism, theconcept of Central Europe or theHabsburg legacy. Thegrowing weight of the‘national memory’ concept in theopposition’s political struggle did not mean that thecritical discussion concerning national myths and auto-stereotypes disappeared. Sometimes they even caused an uproar, such as thePolish discussions about thememory of the1943 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising initiated by Jan Błoński in 1987 or theCzech debates around thedemythologizing dissident historical narrative called Podiven scrutinizing modern Czech nationalism and its culmination in theexpulsion of theSudeten-German population after 1945. Yet these self-critical, anti-nationalist attempts were overwhelmed by politically exigent historical ideologies based on thetraditional ethno-cultural notion of nation. There were many differences and contradictions in thedemocratic opposition of the1980s that threatened at every crossroad to split thefragile unity of theopposition; indeed, at times this happened, such as thesplitting of the opposition in Hungary caused by thefoundation of theHungarian Democratic Forum (MDF; Magyar Demokrata Fórum) in Lakitelek in September 1987. There were many conceptual contradictions in thepolitical and cultural languages of theindividual dissident groups, milieus and even individuals, such as, for instance, thecontradictions between thedoctrine of human and civic rights accompanied by adrive towards thepolitics of dialogue and compromise on theone hand, and thestrengthening rhetoric of anti-totalitarianism that became an important tool of theopposition’s counter-propaganda and political mobilization on theother hand. This was mirrored, as it were, by acontradiction between thecritical patriotism project– an intellectual and liberal pedagogical endeavour– and thedefence and from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 51 utilization of thetraditional ethno-cultural notion of nation and theinvocation of national memory that again became an important part of theopposition’s political mobilization against communist power. Yet, in general, thecommon powerful enemy kept these contradictions and often also deep-rooted animosities at bay for thetime being. The mutual interest in keeping the opposition unified in thestruggle against communist power kept thevarious oppositional forces together, but thegrowing divergences were already preparing away towards aswift political and cultural diversification of theopposition once thepolitical field opened up. Instead of critical heartsearching and self-examination of national communities, thesecond half of thedecade witnessed rather an opposite development, that of self-justification for therevived or newly established political and cultural identities of various groups and movements in their search for their ‘authentic historical self’. It was not by chance that this was also accompanied by therelatable reading of theevents in 1989 as amythological rise of anation in thename of democracy and selfdetermination against thetotalitarian Leviathan. Post-dissident Narratives, Liberal-Conservative Consensus and thePost-totalitarian Divide from Within Theinterpretations of the1989 revolutions and their framing within broader narratives of European modernity and democracy became immediately apart of political identity-building and political contest both in Western democracies and in theregion itself. In thelatter case, thefast-appearing divergences in understandings of thenature of those events and of how to tackle the‘totalitarian’ past became one of thefundamental cleavages forming thenascent political spectrum, particularly in thepost-opposition camps, such as Solidarity in Poland or Civic Forum (OF; Občanské fórum) and Public Against Violence (VPN; Verejnosť proti násiliu) in Czechoslovakia. Theimmediate understanding of theevents of 1989 as ademocratic revolution was spread throughout thesocieties (Krapfl 2013); theunderstanding of theevents as liberal revolutions (Ackermann 1992), not to mention 52 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism aliberal-democratic end of history (Fukuyma 1989), was either nonexistent or completely marginal in theregion. It was thesearch for specific political identity during theformative phase of thepartypolitical system that led apart of thepost-dissident camp to drift from anti-political ‘proto-liberalism’ (Szacki 1995) towards social or left-liberalism but also conservative/economic liberalism (Alliance of Free Democrats–Hungarian Liberal Party, SZDSZ in Hungary; Civic Movement, OH and theCivic Democratic Alliance, ODA in Czech Republic; and Freedom Union, UW in Poland). An important part of this process was theestablishment of an ideological alliance with theliberal paradigm of 1989 forged by major Western liberal political thinkers such as Ralf Dahrendorf, Francis Fukuyama, Timothy Garton Ash, Jacques Rupnik and Bruce Ackermann. Interestingly, in light of today’s criticism of neoliberal hegemony, theearly left-liberal interpretations of 1989 originated from within thepolitical contest of some Western countries, especially theAnglo-American context between left liberalism versus liberal conservatism/neoliberalism. In this respect most of theleft-liberal interpretations such as that of Dahrendorf or Ackermann were highly critical of both theHayekian ‘extreme constitutionalism’ (Dahrendorf 1990) as well as theneoliberal vision of laissez-faire capitalism à la Chicago school. International contexts mattered agreat deal. So did, however, thedomestic one and theexisting cultural and symbolic repertoire coming out of thedemocratic opposition struggle of thelast two decades. Leaving the complicated and fragmented story of political diversification within thepost-Solidarity or post-dissident political camp aside, what interests us here is thecrucial role of former dissidents– many of whom left politics rather early– in creating some of themost decisive languages of thepolitical and languages of thehistorical in post-socialism. Theexperience with ‘totalitarianism’ and thestory of thedemocratic opposition struggle for thevictory of human rights and democracy over communist totalitarianism, theWhig post-dissident narrative, played acrucial role in it. It had two fundamental levels: thedomestic, focusing on the‘return of democracy’, and thetransnational, standing for areturn from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 53 to liberal internationalism as themain paradigm of international politics, with human rights being anatural hyphen between thetwo. Simultaneously, 1989 represented amajor milestone in theevolving Western global doctrine of human rights. In their prevalently liberal interpretation, human rights became, after World War II, an inseparable part of Western political vocabulary and thecore of political identities in all major mainstream political trends of theWestern world. It was underpinned by an evolutionary story locating thebirthplace of human rights in eighteenth century Western Europe– in particular France– and North America and theFrench and American revolutions. It stressed their positive evolution despite all odds and totalitarian challenges, and themajor milestones of thepost-war development were naturally theUniversal Declaration in 1948, making human rights aprinciple of international relations, and, importantly, the1975 Helsinki Accords, which stood for thedecisive transfer of human rights from adeclarative level onto theagenda of international law. Thepeaceful revolutions in Eastern Europe were then perceived also as human rights revolutions, strengthening considerably thelegitimacy of theWestern human rights story and Western-style liberal democracy. Thestruggle for human rights in communist Eastern Europe waged by organizations such as Charter 77, KOR, or various Helsinki committees was an important part of this development and thus also an inevitable element in theformation of ademocratic political identity in thenew democracies of theregion after 1989 and of its historical genea logy. Thenarrative of dissent became now effectively thebackbone of thepost-1989 liberal democratic narrative of democracy. However, if internationally the1989 democratic revolutions have been portrayed as thevictory of human rights politics and civil society’s struggle for democratization, on theground they were often experienced and interpreted as therise of thenation against an unpatriotic or foreign communist power. These pictures and emotions were building, among other things, on thenational memory imagery that had been revived in thesamizdat historical propaganda for more than adecade. Not just democracy but independence and national historical sovereignty too were theresults of thedemocratization 54 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism struggle. National democratic and national emancipatory symbols such as national flags (without thecommunist heraldic additions), national anthems and popular national songs, references to great national traditions and freedom struggles, and thelike played aprimary mobilization role in theevents in Budapest, Bratislava or Bucharest. Thepopular slogans and requests in thestreets of these and other cities during the‘1989 autumn of nations’ did not, at first, seem to collide at all with those in theprogrammes of democratization movements, that of the‘return to Europe’, the‘struggle for human rights’ or therenewal of the‘democratic state and therule of law’. Yet there was alot of caution vis-à-vis themasses in thestreet from theleaders of thenon-violent revolution as well as alot of fear of thesurge of nationalist and ethnic passions. In most historical accounts of 1989 dealing with therelationship between theforming post-dissident political elite (thepost-Solidarity camp, OF/VPN, the Hungarian Alliance of Free Democrats–Hungarian Liberal Party abbreviated as SZDSZ) and themercurial and unpredictable masses on thestreets, real or imagined, we read of acautiousness, bordering on obsession, concerning thepotential for excesses of democracy to destroy thenon-violent, legalist and negotiated character of theregime change. As aresult of theapparent demophobia of thenascent liberal elites, there are many examples from theearly transition period of anti-populist and anti-authoritarian mobilization where thepost-dissidents played aprominent role. These examples abound: for instance, Adam Michnik and theGazeta Wyborcza in Wałęsa’s case during the1990 presidential election; theSZDSZ obsession with thepopulist and nationalist threat exemplified by thecomeback of Horthy-like symbolism, which was vehemently criticized by prominent post-dissident liberals such Miklós Szabó, György Konrád or Gaspár Miklós Tamás; or theanti-Mečiar sentiments of both theCzech and Slovak post-dissident liberals. In all these countries thedanger of populism, of theunpredictable whims of themasses and thepossible manipulation of them by dexterous and demagogic politicians became amajor political concern of theemerging liberal elite, giving rise to alocal variant of thelanguage of liberal anti-populism, ahandy instrument of from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 55 differentiation between ‘us liberal democrats’ and ‘them, populist anti-democrats’ (Marchart 2017). Thequestion is what was there first? Populism and integral nationalism as areal danger to thenewly born democracies or liberal anti-populism evoking themonster? This liberal anti-populism in East-Central Europe was fed by thedissident and opposition conceptual repertoire, particularly that of anti-totalitarianism and civil society serving as abasic element for most narrativizations of post-communist democracy. In its emphatically binary structure, theanti-totalitarian discourse supported by thePopperian concept of open society and its enemies tended to portray thediverse reality in terms of totalitarian theory: totalitarian dictatorship versus democracy, lawless state (Unrechtsstaat) versus therule of law and respect for human rights, open versus closed society. No wonder, then, that thetotalitarian imaginary very soon overshadowed thepolitics of historical compromise that characterized the1989 negotiated and non-violent revolutions. Before thefirst allaround democratic elections in Czechoslovakia in June 1990, when suddenly theex-dissident leaders of theCzech Civic Forum and theSlovak VPN realized that thestill functioning and materially well-equipped Communist Party machine could actually fare quite well in theelection (Suk 2000), the‘national reconciliation’ rhetoric of theVelvet Revolution swiftly changed to an anti-communist crusade serving itself with thelanguage of Cold-War liberal anti-totalitarianism. Its main concern was not aconcrete vision of democracy but thefight against theenemies of democracy. Such enemies might have been everywhere. All themore important then was the divide that the liberal anti-totalitarianism started to dig from within theliberal democratic camp. Following thedissident analyses of totalitarian or post-totalitarian order from the1980s, it was clear to thenew political elite that theformal constitutional regime was one thing, but another and more troublesome thing was thementality of thepopulation, thehomo sovieticus, A.Zinoviev’s notion being used especially in thePolish liberal discourse (in theCzech context theconcept of a‘communist mentality’ was used more often). Themain characteristics were declared 62 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism politics as well. Both have seen repeated appearances of broad civil society protest movements formed at certain critical moments (following theso-called 1998 oppositional agreement in Czechia or after the2018 murder of journalist Ján Kuciak in Slovakia) that expressed frustration with thecurrent state of the political situation and theexisting political representation. These have produced astrong tradition of centrist populist political formations in both countries (Věci Veřejné or ANO in Czechia, SMER in Slovakia) which, from time to time, come to power with outspoken criticism of thepolitical class’s corruption and aprogramme to cleanse thepolitical system of it, but without casting doubt on liberal democratic principles as awhole. Significantly enough, thenotion of totalitarianism and of thetotalitarian residuum was mainly used by actors standing for theliberal transformation and defending it rather than by its challengers (Pehe, forthcoming). To summarize, by theearly 1990s alternative narratives ofdemocratic and national-liberation revolution in 1989 had started to build up in thepost-opposition camp as aresult of thegrowing heat of political struggle. Thetopos of arevolution unfinished or stolen appeared in various forms, including theRound Table mechanism and thedirty deal between communist and liberal elites, theharsh economic liberal or neoliberal policies that betrayed theoriginal ethos of thedissident ‘moral civil society’, and so on. Yet these differentiations had not yet split thepolitical class into two mutually irreconcilable camps. What is more, many of those speaking about theneed to ‘finish’ thejob of the1989 revolution, if not asecond revolution, in fact belonged to theliberal and liberal conservative camp, with Havel being perhaps themost conspicuous example. Many others, who later became thesymbols of ‘national populism’ – in Poland for instance theKaczyński brothers, Antoni Macierewicz or Jarosław Gowin felt to be part of thebroad, post-opposition camp and theliberal democracy-building process (Sawczuk 2018). Asomewhat different situation existed in Hungary, where Fidesz had already in the mid-1990ies embarked on afairly harsh criticism of theliberal transition. All in all, abig chunk of thecontentious repertoire of thefuture culture war was present. Nevertheless, thevarious post-dissident from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 63 and post-opposition formations still shared their main goals, such as amarket economy, democratic transformation and integration into NATO and theEC/EU– apowerful tool disciplining most of thepolitical players. They also shared, in broad contours, thepost1989 narrative of democracy, portraying thecurrent state as aresult of theHelsinki effect and thestruggle of thedemocratic opposition for human rights, freedom and democracy. It was theachievement of these major goals in 2004 that would act as agame changer. National Conservative Backlash and theCulture Wars since the2000s Around theturn of thecentury, politics in thecountries of East-Central Europe underwent an important cultural reconfiguration. With thetransition dynamics weakening, thechance of EU accession fairly high and theascendancy of national conservative forces all over theregion, astrong criticism of the‘liberal consensus’ of theearly post-communist era evolved. Thecriticism of theliberal transition era, however, was expressed not so much in social, but rather in cultural and symbolic terms. According to Ivan Krastev, theneoliberal transformation of the1990s in connection with theEU accession process excluded, for adecisive time period, agreat part of thesocial and economic conflict from thepolitical struggle, thus opening aspace for political mobilization based on symbolic and identity issues (Krastev 2007). This corroborated thedistinctly anti-elitist and increasingly anti-liberal narrative of democracy and of thebetrayal of thepost-dissident liberal elites, which was there in basic forms since thebeginning of the1990s. Thedifferent kinds of narratives of democracy from within thepostoppositional camp started to emulate themodel of intra-democratic, agonistic struggle resulting from the‘eternal’ attempts of modern democratic societies to achieve internal unity by eliminating or taming its formidable internal threat. Thehistory of democracy in themodern age is ahistory of constant polarization. Building on Claude Lefort’s understanding of democracy as disembodied political forms divided in its symbolic self-representation and on François Furet’s ‘Lefortian’ history of theFrench Revolution, Pierre Rosanvallon 64 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism elaborated abinary model of two distinctive conceptions or visions of democracy: voluntarist (radical democratic, populist) and rationalist (liberal), two constitutive rival pathologies of modern democracy between which French history in modern times permanently oscillated (Rosanvallon 2006). As an ideal-typical model drawing on the‘revolutionary democracy’ introduced by theFrench Revolution to most of continental Europe (in contrast with theEnglish ‘evolutionary’ model), it can help us to understand better thebifurcation of democratic narratives in East-Central Europe during theculture wars period, with its central notion of popular sovereignty. TheFrench Revolution made the‘sovereign people’ alife-giving principle of modern democracy. Yet its problem lies in therepresentation. It is an imperious principle because all power must flow from it. But it is also utterly vague, for ‘thepeople’ is always imagined as awhole, an anonymous collectivity. What results is asteady ‘tension between theorder of thesymbolic and that of thereal’. Voluntarism in Rosanvallon’s sense stands for theurge to heal thedivision between thereal and thesymbolic and to realize thepromises of popular sovereignty. It is theresumption of theJacobin drive for violent fusion and unity that theFrench Revolution sparked in thehistory of universal suffrage. Seen from this point of view, theinstitutionalization of apluralistic and divided society is not seen primarily as amechanism for managing social-political differences but as aplebiscitarian urge reviving thedream of popular fusion. Rationalism, in contrast, is a vision of scientific politics and rational design of governance available to theelite that strives to pre-empt violent social conflict, usually by transfer of authority to experts in management, substituting thesovereignty of thepeople for thesovereignty of reason, justice and law. It is aresponse to frequent voluntarist, violent excesses in history driven by the‘dogma of popular sovereignty’ and its ruthless search for unity, aresponse no less utopian and dangerous. Thevirtue of avoiding terror comes linked to constitutive vices such as theempowerment of elites and theacceptance of hierarchy, and is always haunted by thespectre of depolitization. Therationalist and voluntarist visions of democracy– thedream of rational government and thecalls for popular sovereignty– and from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 65 their various historical stages and metamorphoses have found their current embodiment in thecounter-positions of anti-totalitarian liberalism (victorious after 1989, taking anti-terrorist shape after 9/11) and its populist alternatives (post-Marxist or nationalist and nativist) (Moyn 2006). Both are thegrandchildren of modern democracy and of impulses reaching back to its revolutionary beginnings at theend of theeighteenth century. In Central and Eastern Europe both are simultaneously thechildren of the1989 democratic revolutions supposedly bringing these nations back from the‘totalitarian’ aberration instigated in 1917 to theliberal democratic path. Rosanvallon’s ideal-typical model was developed mainly on theexample of thestruggle for democracy in modern French history. It gives us avantage point from which to see thedivergent post-dissident democratic narratives in East-Central Europe both in their sociological as well as representational forms. Metaphorically we can speak about rationalist and voluntarist periods in the post1989 history of East Central Europe. The first stands for the time of liberal transformation after 1989 up to EU accession, an era in which the rationalist vision of democracy institutionalized liberal distrust to popular sovereignty. The later comes as a reaction to the first at the dawn of the new century in the form of radical democratic and populist (including national conservative) criticism in the name of the people and the unfulfilled promises of democratic self-determination. Thepost-1989 liberal democratic transformation accompanied later by theprocess accession to theEuropean Union was, indeed, largely elite-driven and an expert project (much less ademocratic one) that involved very strong pedagogic, even paternalistic elements. After thebreakdown of communism, which sometimes took theform of ‘lawful’ or ‘constitutional revolutions’ as in Hungary or Poland, acrucial role was ascribed to constitutionalism and therule of law as ameans of securing thetransition to liberal democracy and amarket economy. Moreover, avision of therule of law based on existing European and American constitutional developments along with human rights codifications had been widely understood not just as avital part of thepost-communist democratization but also 66 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism as an indispensable barrier against both a‘Jacobin radicalization’ of the1989 democratic revolutions and theauthoritarian tendencies of charismatic transition politicians. Thus, independent and robust juridical institutions with theconstitutional courts at thehelm were established with theaim of immunizing– through astrict separation of powers and judicial review– thenew democracies against any abuse of power. Later on, during theEU accession process, there was amassive ‘outsourcing’ of much of thelegislative work– which should have been thesubject of political negotiation in thedomestic parliaments– to theEU accession process. Theimplementation of theacquis communautaire was largely abureaucratic and legislative, rather than ademocratic procedure. In other words, theintegration process entailed too many institutional and technical transfers and too little local democratic political deliberation. ‘EU membership was considered such apolitical priority in all candidate states that thelaws were approximated without appropriate democratic deliberation and then justified as ahistorical necessity’ (Přibáň 2009: 350). Thenational conservative backlash against theliberal constitutional pedagogy (Bucholc 2020) came very soon after 2004, theaccession year. Yet ideologically it started to form much earlier, building upon thesame anti-communist opposition and democratic activism credentials as that of theliberals representing thetransition era. Thebest example in theregion is Poland, where harsh criticism of theliberal 1990s had already been mounted by theturn of thecentury. Acrucial role in thecultural-political formulation of thecriticism was assigned to thereinterpretation of the1989 Round Table Talks and their consequences, as we have already seen. In theeyes of theconservative politicians but also many less ambitious former local opposition activists, underground Solidarity members and so on, thehistorical compromise between theold communist and thenew liberal elites led to historical amnesia, not only whitewashing the post-war history and playing down communist crimes in Poland but actually betraying thelegacy of theanti-communist opposition and thus of thenation as awhole. As aconsequence, calls to cleanse thenew-born Polish democracy from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 67 of thesinister effects of thecompromise resulted, after 2003, in aproject to replace the‘Third Polish Republic’ (established in 1989) with anew, ‘Fourth Republic’, acentral part of thepolitical programme of theKaczyński’s brothers and PiS, which came to power in 2005–2007. Symptomatic of thePolish but also other cases was that theconservative turns after 2000 were very often preceded by asemantic turn to thecentre-right in public political discourse (Matyja 2015). This turn was framed by anew generation of right-wing critics of the1990s transition liberalism and its numerous exclusions, which bred significant resentment in society. On theone hand, thenew conservatives represented achallenge in thename of collective identity and traditions to themodernizing liberal hegemonic discourse about transition. However, they also opposed theinborn, popular anti-modernist traditionalism used by theearly populist opponents of theliberal transformation in theprevious decade. Their starting point for athorough critique of thepost-communist political order, the‘democracy of periphery’, was thefact that it took theform of its Western liberal democratic model but did not manage to fill thefaçade with appropriate content intrinsic to theparticular society (Krasnodębski 2003). In Poland, acountry with asignificant and developed tradition of conservative political thought, thepowerful conservative critique of transition liberalism contained three major elements that Iwant to mention here. First, its language was based on astrong attachment to apositively defined historical memory and national continuity, defining itself through contrast with thealleged politics of thethick line over thepast that stood for the‘original sin’ of Polish democracy after 1989 (Puttkamer 2014). Second, thenewly established historical consciousness should have led to arestoration of historical subjectivity and thus state and national sovereignty overcoming thestatus of historical objects that characterized thesmall nations of East-Central Europe in thetwentieth century. There was apositive institutional component stressing theneed for astrong, functional state as against theliberal philosophy of aminimal state, which supposedly resulted in thepractical weakness of state institutions and 68 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism corruption (e. g. the Rywin affair). And lastly, apronounced reversion to therepublican, communitarian understanding of society, in contrast to theliberal, individualist conceptions of thebody politic, provided theconservative intellectuals’ interpretation with powerful historical examples, not only from theearly modern Polish nobility republic but also in theSolidarity movement, thus claiming thelegacy of dissidence taken in thebroad sense (Brier 2009, Trencsényi 2018: 279–282). Hungarian conservative thought too, though much less robust and differentiated than Polish one, started to exert increasing influence in the form of aradical critique of theliberal transformation from theearly 2000s on. With important breeding grounds at several Budapest universities such as Pázmány and Corvinus and think-tanks such as Századvég, their criticism has been, in contrast to Poland, less engaged with identity issues, religion and politics of morality, and more with reaffirmation of theimportance of astrong state and political leadership capable of formulating and defending the‘national interest’ as opposed to theliberal conception of minimal state and consensus politics with cosmopolitan implications. Their critique of liberal transitional institutionalism was tied to arejection of theliberal stress on individual rights and freedoms, which was to be replaced by asystem committing individuals through patriotic duties to thenational community (Buzogány and Varga 2019). Thefirst Polish national conservative attempt to disrupt theliberal political and discursive hegemony failed in 2007, but it was followed by anew force in 2010, Viktor Orbán and his first election landslide, joined by PiS again in 2015. Since then, therise of the powerful national conservative backlash against liberal democracy in theregion has become one of themajor sites of global struggle over thedemocratic imagination in theWestern world. We are, however, interested here primarily in theparallel genealogy of thetwo ideal-typical narratives of democracy that have finally established themselves as two distinctive, competing cultural-political projects in East-Central Europe. First is theliberal democratic or Whig post-dissident one stressing thedissident origins of post-communist from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 69 democracy, its anti-totalitarian credentials, and its vision of theEuropeanization/Westernization of thesocieties in question, emphasizing liberal individualism, human rights, active citizenry and civil society. Second is thenational conservative narrative, similarly anti-totalitarian and claiming its origins in anti-communist opposition but putting markedly more stress on thehistorical agency of thedemos as against theelites, on collective rights, national interests, autonomous local cultural and religious values, national solidarity and theresistance capacity of thenational rather than civil society. Thetwo ideal-typical narratives surely do not represent thewhole post-communist discourse on recent history or thestory of democracy’s rebirth out of thestruggle with communist/totalitarian dictatorship. But they do characterize themain political cleavage in terms of thediverging genealogies or narratives of democracy during the period of culture war. Ideologically, and very often also personally, they are both rooted in thehuman and civic rights struggle of thedemocratic opposition of the1970s and 1980s. Both share to some extent theframework of post–Cold War liberal anti-totalitarianism, especially its focus on the‘enemies’ of democracy, be they communists, fascists, nationalists, religious fundamentalists, cosmopolitans, migrants or others. Over thecourse of thepolitical and electoral struggle of thepast two decades, however, they evolved into two very different visions of thepast, thepresent and thefuture of democracy, giving concrete historical shape to what Rosanvallon identified as theinevitable, agonistic counter-position between rationalist (liberal) and voluntarist (populist) elements in thehistory of modern democracy. Symptomatically, thenational conservative illiberal turn around theturn of thecentury was first voiced in thecultural-historical idiom of post-communism: aqualitatively new politics of memory and, along with it, anew historically informed notion of patriotism. It strove to promote certain historical memories and to incorporate them into civic political education. With theestablishment of Institutes of National Memory in Poland and Slovakia and asimilar institution in theCzech Republic in 2007, theInstitute for theStudy of Totalitarian Regimes, theconcept of ‘national memory’ 70 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism or the‘memory of thenation’ completed its long-term metamorphosis. From adissident emancipation tool in the1980s, it has become astate-supported civic education project that stressed thevoices of thevictims and of theresisters to communist rule, while dissidence alone has been usually reinterpreted as aform of resistance movement. Thevictims’ testimonies were ascribed thehighest authenticity, in contrast to those supposedly ‘tainted’ by theformer regime’s mentality. Typically, thefounding of these institutions has been supported by awide range of former dissidents who gave them moral authority and historical authenticity. Many of them, in themeantime, horrified by theilliberal turn of national conservativism became aclear voice of liberal democratic defence and thus anathema to thenew national conservative establishment. Although claiming novelty in contrast to theallegedly absent politics of history in theliberal transition period, in many ways thenew conservative politics of memory has been acontinuation of the1990s’ post-dissident liberal or liberal-conservative politics of history, often even personal. In terms of its conceptual framework, thenational conservative politics of history adapted and used most of thecanonical paradigms of its liberal-conservative predecessor, such as anti-totalitarianism, thesearch for post-totalitarian residuum, anation-centred historical imagination and afocus on theenemies of democracy. It embodied thedesire to complete the‘unfinished revolutions’ (Mark 2010), which was common to most post-communist countries in East-Central Europe, not just to Hungary and Poland and which had a very significant European dimension in theeffort to raise, with thehelp of EU institutions, thememory of Gulag to thesame level as thememory of theHolocaust (Dujisin 2021). Beyond that, however, Fidesz and PiS’s rewriting of thewritten and unwritten rules of the‘liberal consensus’ and liberal democracy, and thus also of theWhig liberal post-dissident democratic narrative, adopted asystematic character, reminiscent in many ways of such illiberal regimes as Erdoğan’s Turkey or Putin’s Russia rather than other countries in East-Central Europe. As thecurrent national conservative ideological and social-political projects in theregion from narrating dissidence to post-dissident narratives of democracy 71 are analysed in thefollowing chapters, here Irestrict myself to ashort reference to their adaptation of thedissident legacy and afew of its crucial concepts that we have followed in this chapter. Similar to many other elements in their political and social practice, which subvert but do not completely dismiss thebasic features of liberal democracy, here too thenational conservative challenge to theliberal take on dissidence is about re-signifying and re-appropriating theexisting framework, not repudiating it. This obviously concerns dissident anti-totalitarianism. If thepostdissident liberal Left after 1989 has seen thetotalitarian temptation in theauthoritarian tendencies of some transition politicians and, above all, in thepopulist voluntarist drive towards national unity, thenational conservatives re-signify theconcept, radically pointing out theaffinity and thus totalitarian implications of both communism and liberalism. Aprominent example is philosopher and politician Ryszard Legutko, one of themost influential, politically as well as ideologically, conservative thinkers behind PiS’s second rise to power (Behr 2021). In his widely received book TheDemon in Democracy: Totalitarian Temptations in Free Societies (2016), he summarized, in away, theradical conservative criticism of thetransition period which accumulated in thelast two decades. Theaffinity between communism and liberalism, thetwo regimes stemming from thesame root, from thesame Promethean inclination of themodern human being, is indeed taken here as thegeneral vantage point. Legutko’s comparison is not an equivalence as he acknowledges that liberal democracy lacks thebrutality of communism. However, it presents both regimes as expansive worldviews and utopian projects, proclaiming themselves thefinal boundaries of humanity’s aspirations, ideological projects aiming to destroy traditional values in families, communities, religions and nations in order to build anew political social order. In other cases, thepost-dissident concepts are not just re-signified, but challenged frontally in its prevailing liberal interpretation to be reappropriated for different meaning. 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(eds.), Thinking Through Transition: Liberal Democracy, Authoritarian Pasts, and Intellectual History in East Central Europe After 1989, Budapest, New York: CEU Press, pp. 109–137. 84 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism 3/ TheCultural Sociology of Hungarian National Conservatism Csaba Szaló Thelast decade was witness to thesuccessive electoral breakthroughs of national conservative parties and theconsolidation of Viktor Orbán’s authoritarian democracy in Hungary. This text offers acultural interpretation of Hungarian national conservative discourse, outlining how aset of interpretive communities was unified into apolitical community of Viktor Orbán’s followers. My aim is more hermeneutical than explanatory; that is, it works toward thereconstruction of meanings that make Viktor Orbán’s political authority comprehensible and acceptable for his allies as well as for his constituency. Thelasting support of theOrbán regime refers to more than expressions of social and individual interests; it is grounded in cultural structures of solidarity holding together his electorate and apparatus. Orbán’s landslide victory in the2010 election was prepared by thenational conservative appropriation of civil society and theseizure of public culture after 2002. While in 2004 thereferendum concerning double citizenship for minority Hungarians initiated by thenational conservative opposition failed, it also manifested, besides theformation of acultural cleavage, thecontinuing emergence of anew hegemony. In theyears that have followed, theutopian narrative of liberation has been displaced by anational conservative narrative of protection. Both electoral results and international media attention in thelast decade demonstrate that thepolitical image of Viktor Orbán has become well established in contemporary Hungarian and European public culture. In 2010, Orbán’s party gained 68% of theparliamentary seats, and its right-wing alternative, theJobbik movement (Movement for aBetter Hungary), entered theNational Assembly for thefirst time with 12%. By contrast, thefirst Orbán government thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 85 (1998–2002) was established with just 38% of theMPs representing Fidesz, forcing acoalition with theIndependent Smallholder’s Party (FKgP; Független Kisgazdapárt) and theHungarian Democratic Forum (MDF; Magyar Demokrata Fórum). While theoverall proportion of MPs sharing national conservatism in 1998 was 59%, after thelast elections, in 2018, their share was 79% (parlament.hu). Thecurrent international public image of Viktor Orbán started to crystallize after his big electoral victory in 2010. Simultaneously, as theHungarian prime minister took over theEuropean Union’s rotating presidency in 2011, international media outrage erupted due to anew media law adopted by theHungarian parliament that clawed back media freedoms. Contrary to Orbán’s previously cultivated public image as apragmatic pro-European conservative from his first premiership (1998–2002), during the2010s he became the‘enfant terrible’ of theEuropean Union. In theinternational media, he became identified with an anti-liberal project to reclaim national sovereignty and fundamentally change the nature of theEuropean Union. His image was considerably shaped by praise for his political tactics, exemplified by border fences andtransit zones, among right-wing political parties, movements and media throughout Europe and theUnited States. However, his recurring conflict with theEuropean Parliament formed apublic image around negative themes of dismantling checks and balances, extending state control over civil society and skewing theelectoral process in his favour (Herman 2016, Cianetti et al. 2018). As far as Orbán framed his campaigns in populist terms, he was included into abroader global populist trend challenging liberal democracy (Müller 2017, Mudde and Kaltwasser 2017). This text conceives of Hungarian national conservatism as amanifestation of ahistorically specific discourse of political mobilization. Since normatively loaded cultural meanings, like ethical visions, can be explicitly stated and transmitted tacitly through nonreflective engagement in cultural practices, Iwill claim that this discourse of national solidarity performs acultural transmission in which interpretive skills are just as important as frames of mind. Thus, instead of conceiving of Hungarian national conservatism as agathering 86 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism of like-minded individuals, Iintend to deal with thediscourse as it is applied in particular social performances so as to achieve afusion between speaker, audience and background culture (Alexander 2004). Thespecific role that theexposition of iconic verbal and visual images plays in theformation of interpretive communities will be emphasized via their performance examples. To grasp themobilizing potential of national conservatism in today’s Hungary, Iwill need to consider its genealogy. This approach will also clarify what Imean by national conservatism in this text. Theimage of ‘Christian Hungary’ came into focus during thelast phase of theFirst World War in 1918 as acore element of thepolitical discourse that merged various secular political concerns with religious rhetoric advocating anational redemption (Hanebrink 2006: 59, Gyurgyák 2001: 301). At thecore of national conservatism, one can find amoral vision of aHungarian nation united against its external and internal enemies. This sense of war, entailing athreatening civil war, sets those believing in a‘Christian Hungary’ against those who personify the‘other Hungary’. Through these means, thediscourse of national conservatism can justify theexclusion of various kinds of others. When theHungarian Kingdom was collapsing, theimages and slogans of Christian Hungary primarily indicated adesire to expel Jews from thenation (Hanebrink 2018). Nowadays this inherent other Hungary is supposedly composed of liberals and supporters of ‘alien beliefs’. In what follows, my concern with understanding how theOrbán regime in Hungary achieved such strong legitimacy led me to focus on three phases in which thenational conservative discourse was utilized and disseminated by political actors. In thefirst section, Iexamine approaches that national conservatives developed to repoliticize thesubjective experience of existential situations. This exploration of moral politics illustrates that social policies promoting theconventional family, striving against ‘gender ideology’ and manifesting demographic anxieties receive coherent meaning through thenationalist narrative of historical struggle. Thesecond part shows how thenational conservative discourse articulates therelationship between personal experience, political stance and collective thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 87 action through anationalist form of identity politics. Theso-called refugee crisis provided theOrbán regime with achance to perform aspecific conservative meaning of state power. Hence, to switch from apost-communist narrative of an ‘unfinished revolution’ to aclassic nationalist narrative of defending thenation against its external enemies. Finally, these efforts to establish anational conservative movement, state and society raise aseries of questions about theOrbán regime’s claims of cultural legitimacy, which Iaddress in thethird part of this chapter. Altogether, interventions in thesphere of memory politics have been constitutive of Viktor Orbán’s broader strategy to reshape Hungarian public culture. By taking seriously how politically dramatized narratives of thepast inform collective action, we can be well-positioned to decipher how activists’ concerns with self-understanding and recognition are related to shared cultural structures and thepolitical economy. Theoretical and Methodological Considerations Thetheoretical logic leading my interpretation of national conservatism is thefollowing: Themask performers use during aritual must be treated as therelevant object of inquiry regardless of whether these performers experience arole distance from these masks during or after these performances. What is more, we should not assume that themasks in which political actors perform their roles cannot influence theself-understanding of these actors in thelong run. My interpretive strategy is guided by cultural pragmatics in its accent on public events and performances for disclosing historically changing structures of meaning transmission. Consequently, my interpretation will be illustrated by Viktor Orbán’s speeches staged regularly in thespecific setting of Bálványos Free Summer University and Student Camp. My reading of these public performances is explicatory, aiming to reveal various forms of preunderstanding assumed in theintended meaning effects of thecultural repertoire employed by thespeaker. These implicit meanings will be treated as traces of various narratives and icons utilized to produce acoherent national conservative discourse to mobilize and unify political 94 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism reinterpreted by national unity– fantasies about thenation’s death form essential elements of theHungarian national conservatism discourse. In recent decades, these dystopian visions received political legitimacy in theform of demographic anxiety (Bluhm and Varga, 2020). These themes were already established during thelast years of thecommunist regime (Gal 1994). Perhaps, they were embedded in along-established tradition of nationalizing population reproduction. This national conservative discourse conceives childbearing as acollectivized moral issue, leading to theessentialist representation of women as mothers. Theapparatus characterizes Hungary’s demographic situation by stressing that since 1981, theannual number of deaths has been higher than theannual number of births. While national conservative arguments emphasize thedecisive role of interruptions, it is not considered necessary at all to note therole of health care, childcare, public education and Hungarian migration abroad. At thesame time, it is interesting how these arguments work with theimplicitly feminist claim that the‘personal is political’ when trying to redefine thecare of children as not apersonal but apublic issue: ‘Those who claim that it is aquestion of individual choice to have or not to have children are serving theculture of death’ (Kövér). Various officials, activists and intellectuals claim in solidarity that themajor obstacle to achieving their demographic policy goals can be identified in theliberal side’s gender-related perspective. Thesocalled gender ideology is characterized in thediscourse of national conservatism in thefollowing manner: (i) Gender ideology aims to manipulate thenatural difference between men and women. (ii) It claims that homosexual orientation cannot be changed. (iii) It stresses therivalry between men and women instead of focusing on their partnership. Finally, (iv) it is aperspective from which thefamily seems to be aviolent site instead of a‘nest of love’. Opposition to gender ideology has formed apersistent part of thenational conservative movement’s agenda and Orbán’s government campaigns for along time. Various rhetorical tools have been mobilized to frame gender and sexuality-related rights, activists and scholarship as athreat to theHungarian nation. In 2011, thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 95 thecountry adopted aconservative nationalist constitution which restricts marriage to heterosexual relationships and refuses theidea of discrimination based on sexual and gender identity. While thenew Hungarian constitution explicitly protects ‘thehuman fetus’s life from conception’, ayear later, theHungarian parliament addressed its anti-abortion and conservative perspective in anew Family Protection Action Plan (Vida 2019). Besides preventing access to acceptable medical practice by banning theanti-abortion pill, thegovernment also introduced atwo-round compulsory session and awaiting period to persuade women against terminating their pregnancy. Parallel to these measures, in 2011 and 2013, antiabortion campaigns were launched by theChristian Democratic People’s Party (KDNP; Kereszténydemokrata Néppárt), Fidesz’s formal coalition partner, in association with civic and religious organizations that depict women choosing abortion as murderers. To remove gender ideology, thegovernment modified theNational Core Curriculum by stressing thedistinction between learned and inherited determinants of sexual identity, focusing on healthy pregnancies and heterosexual family life. In 2018, degree programmes in gender studies were halted. In afashion characteristic of thegovernment’s moralist vision, thestudy programme at ELTE University in Budapest was replaced by aprogramme entitled ‘Economics of Family Policy and Public Policies for Human Development’ (Vida 2019). At thecore of thevarious Hungarian social policies supporting large families, one can find theinstitution of achild-rearing support scheme providing abasic income in theform of amonthly flat-rate amount for families with astay-at-home mother and at least three children. This basic income support scheme for large families had been previously introduced in 1993 by theconservative government to fight economic uncertainties and growing poverty. Viktor Orbán’s pronatalist strategy was already addressed during his first government (1998–2002). Theprimary measure introduced as part of thepolicy package was tax relief for athree-child family. Under thecurrent income distribution, thetax relief benefits may encourage only parents with medium or higher incomes to have athird child (Spéder 2020). Hence, theeffects of earnings-related 96 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism benefits, moving away from provisions based on means-testing that previous socialist governments introduced, were strongly differentiated, disregarding low-income families, especially those who are forced to work in theshadow economy. However, theflat-rate childrearing support, together with theextended parental leave, still can motivate parents with lower incomes to have children as far as it supports stay-at-home motherhood. In contrast, thetax relief policy encourages middle-class mothers to return to their profession, deal with childcare and earn ahigher family income. By countering theliberal form of depoliticization, making particular moral dilemmas political again, thenational conservative discourse was able to sustain thedepoliticization of another kind of conflict, mainly related to thesocial question. Thetheme of migration made it possible to articulate aperspective that combines Orbán’s activist image with justifications grounded both in security and in amoral vision of agood life. Theidea of repoliticization can also be applied to thequestion of Hungarian minorities. By instituting dual citizenship for Hungarians living abroad, Orbán moved identity from theemotional and narrative sphere to thejuridical and political fields (Kántor 2008). Politics of Identity: TheStrong State We are building a new, illiberal state. – Orbán 2014, Tusványos Thenational conservative movement, starting in 2002 but mainly from 2006 on, in its political communication overwhelmingly performed amoral critique of thepost-communist left-liberal governments in terms of restoring and strengthening thenation. In this section, Iconsider Orbán’s move from anarrative of unfinished revolution to thejustification of apowerful state in defending and organizing thenation. In other words, national conservatives claim that anation of families is in adeep social and moral crisis that can be overcome only by restoring and reasserting national traditions with apowerful state’s powerful authority. thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 97 Identity politics can refer to practices of political mobilization related to culture and shared experience (Bernstein 2005). Although politics of identity is often located in activism engaged in by social movements, Ifocus thesecond part of this text on demonstrative performances of its agency by theHungarian nation state. This nationalist politics of identity bears aresemblance to theactivism of social movements. Viktor Orbán’s efforts to incorporate radical nationalist movements into acentrally organized national conservative party started with civic activism after 2002. TheHungarian national conservative politics of identity emphasizes that thecurrent predicaments of theHungarian nation arise from an externally imposed condition, and these circumstances form thebasis of thegrievances all Hungarians hold. Hence, therelationship between personal experience, political stance and collective action was effectively established through nationalist narratives. Thepolitical and cultural goals of Orbán’s identity politics are provided by aspecific conservative notion of state power bearing responsibility for thenational society. At theHungarian-Serbian border, Orbán’s government erected in 2015 akilometres-long steel-and-wire fence to keep refugee-seekers from entering thecountry. Between theyears 2015 and 2018, theOrbán government systematically curtailed thecapacity of foreigners to seek asylum in Hungary. Thegovernment created two transit zones at theHungarian-Serbian border through which those seeking refugee status must proceed. These transit zones are locations meant to make asylum-seeking as undesirable as possible. Directly following theCharlie Hebdo terrorist attacks in Paris at thebeginning of 2015, Viktor Orbán made fighting migration his fundamental political stance. While thegovernment refused thecontroversial EU quota scheme for therelocation of refugees and called for total control over theexternal borders of theEuropean Union, several public campaigns were organized in thefollowing months and years, reaching even thesmallest towns and villages, which insisted that migrants would take away jobs and commit serious crimes. The‘refugee crisis’ had already come into view in spring 2015, but thedecisive events, its dramatic phase generating historic events mainly in Hungary and Germany, were at theend of thesummer. 98 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Budapest’s first trains with asylum seekers from theMiddle East arrived in Germany at theend of August. In September, theGerman government decided not to close its border with Austria and allowed hundreds of thousands of asylum seekers to enter Germany. Theprevious phase of thecrisis is represented by images from Budapest’s Keleti station, where thousands of asylum seekers were camping. Thestation’s underground passage was filled with people who had no idea how they could move onwards to theaffluent West. One could assume it was also filled with camping mats, trash containers, mattresses, garbage, dirt and stench. Therefugee crisis’s widely held narrative is that Germany decided in an unprecedented humanitarian act to put an end to themisery of asylum seekers in Budapest. However, this political decision was deeply influenced by theHungarian government’s unilateral decision to dispatch via buses thousands of refugees to theborder, who started to march along thehighway from Budapest to Austria. Ahundred buses started anight transport to theborder of those asylum seekers stacked at Keleti station. However, at this point it became clear that thedesperate situation in Budapest was aresult of theOrbán government’s attempt to take theDublin agreement seriously and refuse to let theasylum seekers continue their journey to Germany by train. Orbán would eventually adopt apolice practice of driving on migrants, already made usual in Greece, Serbia and Macedonia over theprevious weeks (Der Spiegel 2016). Nevertheless, this event’s political significance consists of proving thecapability of Orbán’s government to act. In synchronicity with this event, theHungarian army was building arazor-wire fence along theborder with Serbia, closing theBalkan migration route. Thegovernment’s public communication represented and celebrated this border closing manoeuvre as evidence of theHungarian state’s power and sovereignty. TheStage: ACommunity that Must Be Organized In 2014, Orbán’s speech was carried out in acelebratory mood after his second big victory. Thespeech became famous due to thepublic controversy generated by his statements about illiberalism (Plattner thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 99 2019). In this speech, Orbán made clear that his government aimed to reorganize theHungarian state so as not to follow liberal principles but national interests: In other words, the Hungarian nation is not simply a group of individuals but a community that must be organised, reinforced and in fact constructed. And so in this sense the new state that we are constructing in Hungary is an illiberal state, a non-liberal state. It does not reject the fundamental principles of liberalism such as freedom, and I could list a few more, but it does not make this ideology the central element of state organisation, but instead includes a different, special, national approach. (Orbán 2014) Orbán rejects liberalism as aform of procedural legitimization of democracy in thename of ahistorically given national tradition. His speech reveals that democratic rule cannot be separated from how people comprehend thelegitimacy claims of thestate. Therejection of purely procedural legitimacy is part of thecritique of post-communist liberalism that, according to Orbán, cannot consider national interest within its legalistic frames. He formulates substantial claims against procedural forms of legitimacy both in thename of theminority Hungarians living abroad and in thename of theinterests of the‘domestic majority of working people’. Thephrase was frequently used in 2004 by theleft-liberal government. It was also in theplebiscite campaign initiated by Fidesz. Theplebiscite concerned dual citizenship intended to be granted to minority Hungarians. Thereference to ‘thedomestic majority of working people’ formed apart of thegovernment’s threats that due to dual citizenship, theimmigration of minority Hungarians would endanger thejobs of Hungarians. Hence, thenation in Orbán’s speech is conceived of as if only employees’ families formed it. TheField: Incorporating Radical Nationalism Every nationalist is aperson of knowledge and interpretive skills, enabling the understanding of events, speeches and texts. At thefoundation of nationalism, one can find theimage of thepeople. Thenation is claimed to be naturally united, and no other division 100 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism is acceptable in this sense other than that between thepeople and its enemies (Lefort 1986). This image of thepeople without internal social divisions is shared both by nationalism and communism. Divisions constitutive of society are just denied. These social divisions are concealed by theaffirmation of political division between our enemies and us. Thus, theconstitution of national unity requires theinvention of new enemies. Theconversion of political opponents and adversaries into thefigures of evil Others, usually linked with foreign centres, is coupled with campaigns against various enemies regarded as parasites to be excluded or eliminated. What is at stake can be easily understood as thebody’s health as far as theimage of thepeople makes sense as an image of thesocial body. What became definitively hegemonic with thepolitical discourse after 2010 is theimage of asociety organized by thestate. It is theimage of society that is national in principle but includes those members of theHungarian nation who live outside of theHungarian state’s territory. Thus, it is theimage of apowerful state evoked as an actor governing this national society and protecting all those who belong to theHungarian nation. Theimage of theartificially divided people closes thecircle. While theunity of theHungarian population living on theterritories of six states can be actualized only on thefantastical level, this negative image of the‘people as one’ shows that theHungarian identity’s political quest cannot be separated from theexperience of division. All three of these images make sense only when we understand their historical character. Thus, theHungarian society cannot be democratically governed simply by applying international policy standards without ahistorical consciousness, which reveals thehistorical specificity of this society. In this sense, theHungarian state cannot be grounded in economics and management given that its legitimacy is rooted in history. TheHungarian people cannot be adequately represented as apopulation currently living on Hungarian state territory. Without specific historical knowledge, one cannot see that thepeople simultaneously are acollective and amystical body. Hence, behind these images, one can find amythic history narrative about theHungarian Kingdom as aunified entity that was both organic and mystical. thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 101 This kingdom’s historical substance, which was previously symbolized by theking’s body (Kantorowicz 1957) and, respectively, by theiconic Crown of Saint Stephen, is imagined through thecollective corporeality of thepeople sharing ahistorical destiny. Previously imagined as theking’s power and thearistocracy, which is incarnate to thekingdom’s historical community, it is now invested in thepeople. This mythic history narrative grounds legitimacy and masks society’s dissolution, counters theungraspable and uncontrollable experience of social division and dissimulates thethreat that those engaged in thestate’s apparatus will appear as individuals concerned merely with satisfying their desires and focused on theprosperity of their families. Two radical nationalist parties had previously articulated thethemes of migration and population decline. Earlier, theconcern with demography was distinctive of theHungarian Justice and Life Party (MIEP; Magyar Igazság és Élet Pártja), followed by theJobbik political movement, which focused its attention on migration (Vidra and Fox 2014). Jobbik was gathered as an interpretive community by turning public attention towards ‘Roma criminality’, breaking thetaboo of racism in political mobilization. TheFidesz apparatus meanwhile has used elements of racist cultural repertoire in its recent migration campaigns. These racist elements were evident in posters which, while focusing on theMuslim danger, also mentioned those ‘coming millions from thedepths of Africa’. In 2009, during theelection campaign to theEuropean Parliament, theJobbik movement started to use thestatement ‘Hungary belongs to Hungarians!’ as its main catchphrase. TheJobbik movement’s political programme claimed that this slogan expresses an unambiguous and straightforward truth that can guide not only apolitical movement but there-establishment of thecountry. Therhetoric of Jobbik can be generally characterized by this reverent, sermonizing and pathetic rhetoric. It operates with pseudo-religious phrases like ‘Faith in Hungarian nationhood’, ‘Hope in theresurrection of theHungarian nation’ and ‘Thefeeling of love for our brothers, for all Hungarians’. Thedocument specified theongoing international economic crisis that erupted in 2008 as adark but transitional, 102 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism historical period which was bringing to thefloor ‘atruncated nation deprived of its historical constitution’, anation ‘with acrippled body and deformed soul’. However, while in 2009 Fidesz focused on thepost-communist narrative of an ‘unfinished revolution’, stressing themotive of anticommunism, theJobbik movement, through its radical and generational appeal, turned theresentment permeating thecontemporary crisis’s diagnosis into acoherent national conservative project of political transformation. Thefollowing proposals summarize their election campaign: (a) Theundesirable effects of globalization must be countered by an active state; (b) theStalinist constitution must be replaced by aconstitution grounded in theHoly Crown’s doctrine of Saint Stephen; (c) instead of liberal democracy, Hungary needs ademocracy built on values– that is, theuniversal and longstanding values of Christianity must displace thedestructive principles of neoliberalism– and (d) theemptiness of consumer society must be confronted by anationally organized network of environmentally friendly local communities. Nowadays, besides thelast statement, all of theprevious claims were already incorporated into Viktor Orbán’s political discourse. In the1980s, there were attempts by liberal and conservative activists to find predecessors (Dénes 2009). Enemy images and political idioms related to them played an important role in this process. All four types of political languages characterizing modern Hungarian political discourse– conservative realism, ethnic protectionism, Marxist socialism and communism– were built on strong enemy images (Dénes 2010). All these different collective self-projection schemes related to political modernity were manifested in visions of afundamental enemy endangering thefuture of thenational community. There is astrong continuity in this respect with this earlier period; thecurrent national conservative discourse still cultivates an agonistic voice of identity politics that challenges theleft-liberals’ perceived intellectual domination. Although national conservatives have ruled for adecade in thepublic culture, they still cultivate an oppositional voice, as if speaking from aminor, oppressed position of those who fight for their liberation. thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 103 TheLandscape: TheOrbán Regime Since its establishment in 2010, thenational conservative government of Viktor Orbán has significantly changed Hungary’s political institutions (Bozóki 2015, Kornai 2015). Due to thedisproportionate character of theelectoral system, which was even more gerrymandered for the2014 elections, Orbán’s government has been backed by atwo-thirds majority of seats in parliament for three consecutive periods. Thegovernment is formed by aparty alliance between Orbán’s Fidesz party and its satellite KDNP. These two parties formed an electoral coalition in 2005. At thesame time, KDNP’s electoral support cannot be measured as its MPs form aseparate parliamentary group. Both Fidesz and KDNP were members of theEuropean People’s Party.1 Thegoverning alliance concentrates political power in theprime minister’s hands; thus, it follows autocratic legalist regimes in their strategy to concentrate power in theexecutive (Scheppele 2018). By legal and procedural adjustments to thepolitical field, thegovernment systematically undermines political competition and removes oversight mechanisms on policymaking. These institutional change mechanisms that support ‘illiberalization’ include institutional reforms to media freedom, theconstitution, thejudiciary and local governance (Jakli and Stenberg 2020). After the2019 local elections, when aunified opposition to Orbán’s party took over local councils in Budapest and some other big cities, it became evident how thegovernment uses systematic constraints on local, democratically elected institutions to protect itself against theemergence of local political resilience. Viktor Orbán’s party approached governmental power campaigning against post-communism. Despite his dismissal of thepreceding left-liberal form of governance, Orbán’s economic policy maintains aversion of ‘authoritarian neoliberalism’ (Fabry 2019). This strategy of replacing welfare by workfare, decreasing taxes, eroding thelabour code and marginalizing trade unions is not treated as acore issue by thecurrent political opposition to theOrbán regime (Hann 2018). Parliamentary political parties that were able to unify 1 On March 3, 2021,Fidesz left theEPP Parliamentary Group. KDNP is still amember of it. 110 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Thus, thereorganization of the1956 Institute, like another controversy over thesuppression of academic freedoms, is in line with thevision declared by Viktor Orbán in his 2018 Tusványos speech: His party’s victory in theelections, which brought Fidesz athird constitutional majority, had handed them the task of building anew cultural epoch in Hungary. In his words, ‘We must embed thepolitical system in acultural epoch.’ In tandem with thetake-over of the1956 Institute, thegovernment increased its control over academic research by disassembling theHungarian Academy of Sciences. It also forced theCentral European University to relocate part of its activities abroad and cancelled theaccreditation of thegender studies degree. Perhaps, all these recent events manifest more profound changes taking place in thefield of Hungarian public culture. At theend of 2018, thegovernment-friendly owners of almost five hundred media outlets passed their proprietary rights on to anew non-profit media foundation presided over by aloyal friend of Viktor Orbán. This event did not mark thebeginning of theOrbán government’s effort to rebuild Hungarian public culture; instead, it revealed an already secured dominance in thefield of mass media. Thethirtieth anniversary of Imre Nagy’s reburial calls to mind thecaptivating performance of ayoung spokesman of anewly founded political movement, Fidesz, who demanded free elections and called on theSoviets to remove their troops from Hungary. Viktor Orbán, at that point, endorsed thecommunist prime minister of therevolution because Imre Nagy, by ‘identifying himself with theHungarian nation’, had gained astrength of character in refusing taboos, putting an end to blind obedience and thedictatorship of asingle party. Nowadays, like therelocation of theImre Nagy sculpture from theHungarian parliament’s symbolic urban setting to aperipheral spot in thedowntown, these formerly celebrated political virtues have also been displaced from thecentre of Hungarian public culture. It is symptomatic that, in place of Imre Nagy’s statue, apreWWII monument to thevictims of the1919 Bolshevik terror is to be reinstalled. Perhaps this restorative act is in line with theurban memory politics implemented in Kossuth Square encompassing thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 111 theparliament building, where theHorthy regime’s pre-war symbolic universe is visible again through its iconic sculptures (Kunt et al. 2013, Olah 2013). However, on thefringe of theparliament’s symbolic urban setting, thegovernment erected anew statue in 2014, preserving thememory of ‘thevictims of theGerman invasion of 1944’. Despite theproclamations that thememorial refers both to Jewish and non-Jewish victims, it was treated by thecritics as evidence of an effort to play down therole of Horthy’s regime in theHolocaust (Vajda et al. 2017). Inevitably, this monument manifests amemory politics developed first in theHouse of Terror museum to reinforce asense of collective victimhood. At thecore of this discourse is anew historical grand narrative portraying theHungarian nation as an innocent victim of external forces. TheStage: Rebellion against theWorld as It Is Orbán spoke after thefirst months of his newly achieved premiership during which theparliamentary supermajority introduced alaw on dual citizenship for minority Hungarians living in neighbouring countries, decided to draft anew constitution, instigated an extra tax on thefinancial sector and put in motion several other ‘unorthodox’ policies. Orbán developed anarrative about theend of thepost-communist world and stressed that Hungary was thefirst among European countries to step into thenew era. Hungarians understood that thestate would play anew role; theeconomy must be reorganized by thestate into awork-based society. With an almost religious overtone, he proclaimed that, like theprevious, post-communist era in Hungary, thewhole old Western world, which is oriented towards unlimited growth and consumption, would pass away to make room for thenew era in which previously strong states will turn to weak, and those countries who were thought to be weak would become powerful. However, Hungarians learned from their unique history that one could not build aprosperous state without establishing it as astrong nation: Looking back over the last one hundred years, we have to admit that the Hungarian nation spent this hundred years in unnatural circumstances. Nothing happened in the way we would have liked for it to have happened. The world 112 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism was ordered in a way contrary to our understanding of what is natural. Until the end of the Second World War, we lived in an unnatural country; parts of it were plucked away, living in other unnatural countries; and we in Hungary were wrestling to keep alive this unnatural country surrounded by its enemies. There are several possible ways to conceive of this situation, but this cannot be accepted as the normal order of life. (Orbán 2011) Instead of exposing theshameful events at thecore of thepolitics of regret, Orbán’s speech is embedded in aclassical nationalist discourse of glory, heroism and victimhood. It is in Budapest’s House of Terror museum that one can find thecode for interpreting Orbán’s rhetoric, which at thesame time utilizes and challenges thecultural model of thepolitics of regret. Thenarrative of suffering under both Nazi and communist rule refers to themodel of Holocaust remembrance, nevertheless reframing theresponsibility of thestate and Hungarians in general through an emphasis on therole of foreign powers in those decades of Hungarian history. Given that, at thebeginning of the2000s, thepolitics of regret had turned into an international normative expectation to refuse narratives of national glory, national conservatism successfully refused this mode of legitimization on thegrounds that it is an externally imposed political narrative and one that follows adiscriminatory logic against small nations. TheField: Symbolic Restoration of theHungarian Kingdom To understand thestrategy advanced in thesphere of memory politics by theOrbán government, we need to expose thecircumstances in which this strategy was constituted: First, thecapillary, microcirculation structure that thecounter-memory of thetragic fall of theHungarian Kingdom had, during Kádár’s communist regime, cultivated aspecific mode of group solidarity also expressed as acommitment to tradition (Rainer 2014). Second, thespectacular rearrangement of thesphere of public memory in recent decades, which reinstalled thetragic narratives of national conservatism from theinterwar period as hegemonic cultural frames of Hungarian identity, did not entirely displace all thememory frames developed thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 113 during theKádárist era. Instead, it has utilized their pop-cultural and ethnic nationalist cultural repertoire to reinvent theapparatus of national conservatism. At theend of the1980s, when oppositional discourse emerged in thepublic sphere via printed publications (themagazine Hitel, etc.) and debates, one could observe aspecific form of anti-communism closely related to thecounter-memory of thefailed 1956 revolution. In line with their narratives, ‘communists’ were to be refused and despised since they were historically traitors. Perhaps, this motive of blaming those who betrayed theHungarian nation was strongly present in thecounter-memories of Trianon, and its roots can be found in thehegemonic Christian nationalist memory culture of theprewar Horthy era. Moreover, there is aclear continuity of these claims with the nineteenth-century discourse of political nationalism, which accused various minority collectivities, including Slovaks, Romanians and Jews, of deliberately damaging there-establishment of theHungarian Kingdom in theform of amodern nation state (Gyurgyák 2007). Being atraitor arose within this anti-communist discourse as an inherent characteristic of these persons given by their ethnic origins. Narratives about theJewish origin of the1919 Bolshevik revolutionaries were also at theconstitutive core of interwar antisemitism during theHorthy regime. They endured as significant components of thenationalist counter-memory’s minor narratives during thecommunist dictatorship too (Hanebrink 2018). Nevertheless, theambivalent relationship between theracist and assimilationist thematic and stylistic forms of Hungarian identity was also manifested within lines of reasoning stressing thehistorical and ideological character of the‘communist’ traitors’ moral failure. Instead of thealien blood of traitors, these narratives focused on their inability to apprehend national interest because of their alien modes of thinking. This ambivalence between racist and assimilationist identity forms could already be grasped in the counter-memory’s basic features during theKádár era, which combined hostility towards the‘communists’ with religiosity (Catholicism and Protestantism) and nationalism. It was theantagonism against the‘communist’, 114 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism which integrated different narratives offering an understanding of theessential characteristics of these ‘alien enemies’, either in terms of their beliefs or racial origin. Because of this counter-memory’s micro-circulatory structure, theconservative political alternative to theKádárist regime was intelligible as apersonal commitment to tradition. Nevertheless, because of thecurrent political circumstances, this tradition could not be fully articulated, reflected or rationalized in public debates (Egedy 2013). TheLandscape: TheReapropriation of Christian Nationalism Theposition of power occupied by an apparatus is also based on possession of specific knowledge and skills. One of these skills is theinterpretive ability to inscribe current events in adiscourse of mythic history (Lefort 1986). This mythic history contains sacred episodes that constitute thenarrative on which thepresent’s events acquire meaning. This discourse is fundamentally invulnerable; it imprints thesigns of thereal onto afoundational past. It is adiscourse of thepolitical community’s ideal body that traverses each of theparty’s members. Engaged in this discourse, each individual sees himself caught up in acollectivity. While theindividual is incorporated into this discourse, what is supposed to be real is assimilated into it. If one wants to identify an iconic image that establishes alink between pre-war Christian-nationalism and thenational conservatism of today, it will be thecrown representing thekingdom of Saint Stephen. Therepertoire symbolizing thecontinuity between themedieval Christian kingdom founded by Stephen Iand thecontemporary Hungarian state was invented and institutionalized during theestablishment of theHorthy regime in the1920s (Hanebrink 2006: 117, Kardos 1985, Gyurgyák 2007). Before theFirst World War, thepublic culture of Hungarian nationalism was thematically organized around thestruggle for national independence against the Habsburg Monarchy. Protestantism occupied the principal position in this narrative of resistance against Catholic Habsburg rule. However, Christian nationalism’s central narrative emphasizing thelong continuities in Hungarian history has displaced thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 115 theformation of Hungarian national identity further back from thereformation towards themythic Middle Ages. While Christian nationalism was not designed to exclude traditions that emphasized Protestantism, it clearly brought theconservative Catholic hegemony to thepublic culture. Thecult of theHoly Right, thehand of thesainted founder of thekingdom, is similar to other public rituals in therecent national conservative discourse built upon Catholic Counter-Reformation traditions. While theProtestant tradition of fighting for freedom and cultural advancement of thenation was incorporated into Christian nationalism so as to hold a minor position, both modernizing liberalism and revolutionary Bolshevism were represented in this discourse as alien forces that were themain enemies not only of theHungarian nation but also that of Christian Europe. This narrative about thedestructive influence of ‘alien values’ on theHungarian nation from thelate nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was fully articulated by thehistorian Gyula Szekfű (1920), who gave academic legitimacy to Hungary’s revised relationship to theCatholic Habsburg monarchy. Contrary to the previously hegemonic Protestant and liberal nationalist narratives in which theHabsburg dynasty and its absolutist state were themain enemies against whom theHungarian nation fought for its independence, Szekfű claimed that theCatholic monarchy, and especially thecultural processes related to theCounter-Reformation, significantly contributed to thepreservation of theHungarian nation by securing thecontinuity of Stephen I’s state and thenation’s strong relationship with Christianity. In August 1992, during days of renewed celebrations related to Saint Stephen, István Csurka, anationalist dramatist and asignificant member of theconservative movement Hungarian Democratic Forum (MDF; Magyar Demokrata Forum) that formed a government after thedemocratic elections of 1990, published alengthy pamphlet critical of new political elites, causing agreat disturbance in theHungarian public culture (Turbucz 2014). Within only afew months, after gaining 40% of thedelegates’ votes for theMDF leadership, Csurka established his radical nationalist movement Circles 116 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism of theHungarian Way (Magyar Út Körök) followed by thefounding of theextreme rightist party MIEP. This pamphlet’s disruptive effect contained theexplicit expression of antisemitic themes and narratives, accusing liberals and communists of being servants of foreign interests articulated in Paris, Tel-Aviv and New York. His claim that theHungarian population faces ‘genetic degradation’ was also widely debated; for instance, it was claimed to be an ‘invitation to Nazism’ by one of his fellow politicians from MDF (Debreczeni). Csurka’s pamphlet and the ensuing public debate disclosed that thediscourse of national conservatism is inherently related to thetradition of antisemitism. Although communist censorship had denied theantisemitic repertoire access to thepublic for decades, those themes and narratives originating in theHorthy era’s Christian nationalism were quickly and easily activated and actualized by national conservatives. After decades of public silence, an interpretive community concerned with liberals and communists of Jewish origin was coming to thefore again (Hanebrink 2018). This revitalization of theantisemitic myth of Judeo-Bolshevism by Csurka’s movement and theparty was akind of revolt against aconservative attempt led by Prime Minister József Antall to incorporate national-liberals within thediscourse of Christian nationalism. Christian nationalism from its beginning in the1920s faced achallenge from thepreviously hegemonic Protestant narrative structured around theconflicting duality of thekuruc and labanc forms of Hungarian identity. Thekuruc perspective– personified by Ferencz Rákoczi, who led arevolt against theHabsburg monarchy– focused principally on independence and freedom. From thelabanc, that is, loyalist and ‘universalist’, Catholic perspective, this unrealistic quest for independence was acharacteristic of Protestant ‘fanaticism’ coming from Transylvania. In the1920s, themain challenge for theinitiators of Christian nationalism was to rise above thekuruc-labanc conflicts by incorporating theradical and particularist Protestant form of nationalism into aconservative Catholic discourse that provided wider cultural ground for national unity. Despite therising importance of the‘Jewish question’ in thepublic culture during those years, thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 117 theunification of radical and conservative nationalism seemed to be attained through thepurification of incorporated Protestant identities from ‘alien’ and ‘disturbing’ ideas of liberalism. This changed in the1930s. While in theformer decade, ‘Jews’ would be suspected of promoting liberalism, later ‘liberals’ would be dishonoured by ‘uncovering’ their Jewish origin. Csurka and his MIEP started to use thecultural repertoire developed in 1930s Christian nationalist discourse. Theclose links of themovement to theCalvinist religious communities were expressed even in thedress code of their MPs. Thestyle of cultural pessimism permeated their public performances, demonstrating their deep concern for theHungarian nation’s vitality. However, theimage that represented thedangers to theHungarian nation was still thepre-war form of the‘Judeo-Liberal’. Recently, this cultural pessimism was included in national conservatism, focusing on theEuropean civilization’s declining vitality. Fears about theWest’s decline are projected onto theIslamic Other and onto fantasies about thebrutal and primitive vitality of prospective African immigrants. Thus, after 2015 thenational-conservative apparatus related to Viktor Orbán gave local fears aEuropean significance. This discourse provided arobust infrastructure for thecirculation and repetition of this image. Theimportance of thediscourse, revitalized by Csurka’s movement and party, consists in thefact that thecampaigns, centred as they were on thebestial threat of migration, did not wholly displace thepre-war image of ‘Judeo-Liberal’. Themobilization campaign against Georg Soros disclosed that theEuropeanized, migrationcentred cultural repertoire used to delegitimize political alternatives consists of antisemitic images and narratives already revived by radical nationalists in the1990s. Ambivalences and cultural contradictions inherent to various interpretive communities linked to national conservatism thus had already been manifested at thebeginning of the1990s via theinstitutionalization of radical nationalist media and movements. Despite theHungarian Democratic Forum’s dissolution in 1993, theconservative and radical nationalist discourse layers have not been disconnected. In contrast to West European conservative discourse, 118 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism to be aconservative without acommitment to anationalist interpretation of thepast was unimaginable in Hungary. Institutionalized traditions of Christian religious life are still not sufficiently strong to ground aconservative discourse that could be autonomous from radical nationalism’s memory politics. Conclusion In his last speech in Tusványos, in 2019, Viktor Orbán several times addressed theaudience as ‘our generation’ (Orbán 2019). One can find two interlinked modes of how this generational collectivity was demarcated in this speech, contrasting the‘generation of 1968’ and those who believe in their ‘historical role’ today. Contrary to those mentioned later, that is, to communists and progressive liberals, who are, in his words, committed to helping history achieve its aim, Orbán’s generation discovered that it is their generational existence, rather than history in general, that must be provided with meaning. Orbán, in his speech, then specified this meaning as ahistoric opportunity to make theHungarian nation stronger. As one can see, neither theconcept of history nor asense of commitment is called into question. In other words, communists and progressive liberals are rejected because of their universalism. Orbán’s generational collectivity is portrayed as similar to previous generations in terms of history and commitment. However, his new generation is not marked anymore by universal humanitarianism but characterized by an attachment to aparticular historical collectivity: theHungarian nation. Thedifferentiation of Orbán’s generation from theformerly mentioned 1968 collectivity is even more exciting because it was given by him adefinite narrative form. His differentiating narrative is formulated as thedrama of afailed generation, exemplified by theAlliance of Free Democrats (SZDSZ; Szabad Demokraták Szövetsége), as theopposite of thedestiny of thesuccessful ‘Fidesz generation’. Thedramatization effect is achieved through remarks related to destiny and predetermination. Thegenerational failure of liberals is spelled out through theenumeration of situations in which thecultural sociology of hungarian national conservatism 119 ‘they were not allowed to govern and to take theinitiative’ as far as theconservatives, thesocialists, and then theFidesz generation were given their own political moment. One can notice ashift from an active to apassive mode of character construction in this narrative. Instead of stressing responsibility and theability to achieve apolitical position, triumph appears to be aquestion of fate. In Orbán’s words, ‘It was areal drama. Let us thank God for not giving this fate to us.’ This construction’s intended meaning is most likely neither to generate empathy towards SZDSZ nor to free them from political responsibility for thedeficiencies of thepost-communist transformation. Instead, their ‘drama’ is used just to articulate trust in thefuture among thedevotees of Orbán by giving proof of their positive predetermination, apiece of evidence that this political collectivity is more than powerful and successful. Thecultural effect of this narrative is to strengthen group solidarity through recounting to them their exceptionality. References Agamben, G. (2015). ‘From the State of Control to a Praxis of Destituent Power’, in Wilmer, S. E. and Žukauskaitė, E. (ed.), Resisting Biopolitics, London: Routledge, pp. 21–29. Alexander, J. C. (2004). ‘Cultural Pragmatics: Social Performance between Ritual and Strategy’, Sociological Theory 22, no. 4, pp. 527–573, doi: 10.1111/j.0735-2751.2004.00233.x. Bartha, E. (2011). ‘“Can’t Make Me Happy That Audi Is Prospering”: WorkingClass Nationalism in Hungary after 1989’, in Kalb, D. and Halmai, G. (eds.), Headlines of Nation. Subtexts of Class, Oxford: Berghahn Books, pp. 92–112. Bartha, E. (2014). ‘Forgotten Histories: Workers and the New Capitalism in East Germany and Hungary’, in Boyer, J. W. and Molden, B. (eds.), EUtROPEs: The Paradox of European Empire, Paris: University of Chicago Center in Paris, pp. 309–334. Bellamy, R. (2000). Rethinking Liberalism, London: Pinter. Bluhm, K. and Varga, M. (2020). ‘Conservative Developmental Statism in East Central Europe and Russia’, New Political Economy 25, no. 4, pp. 642–659, doi:10.1080/13563467.2019.1639146. 126 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Hungary’, Sexual and Reproductive Health Matters 27, no. 2, pp. 13–16, 10.1080/26410397.2019.1610281. Vidra, Z. and Fox, J. (2014). ‘Mainstreaming of Racist Anti-Roma Discourses in the Media in Hungary’, Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies 12, no. 4, pp. 437–455, doi:10.1080/15562948.2014.914265. Vogt, H. (2005). Between Utopia and Disillusionment: A Narrative of the Political Transformation in Eastern Europe, Oxford: Berghahn Books. Witte, G. (2018). ‘Once-Fringe Soros Conspiracy Theory Takes Center Stage in Hungarian Election’, The Washington Post, https://www.washingtonpost. com/world/europe/once-fringe-soros-conspiracy-theory-takes-centerstage-in-hungarian-election/2018/03/17/f0a1d5ae-2601-11e8-a227fd2b009466bc_story.html (accessed June 26, 2021). thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 127 4/ TheDynamics of thePolish Culture Wars1 Ondřej Slačálek Poland is considered to be ahornet’s nest when it comes to culture wars. There are many reasons for this. Themost visible are thepower of theCatholic Church and its influence on moral issues; thestrength of theconservative, Catholic civil society; theturbulent development and temporal failure of thepost-communist Left; and thereplacement of theright-left conflict with aconflict between liberals (or liberal conservatives) and national conservatives as themost important political cleavage. But, above all, we see different temporalities. Both thesuccessful promotion of theCatholic Church’s moral agenda in the1990s and the2005–7 national conservative and far-right coalition government declaring theend of post-communism under the‘Fourth Republic’ slogan could be considered alocally specific echo of thepast. However, with thedevelopments across thewhole West in the2010s and its variants in Poland, we can retrospectively understand theprevalence of those conflicts as avant-garde with respect to future developments in other countries, not as aregression to an unspecified past. Of course, thelocal specifics make theimage appear much more extreme. But, as Iwill argue in this chapter, even those local specifics should not lead us to overlook both themany international contexts and, most importantly, thegeneral tendency in thedynamics of theculture wars. It is this tendency that creates dynamics which can, as we will see in this chapter, change at least some of these specifics, considered for along time as being essential to Polish identity. Given therelatively long duration of Poland’s various culture wars and their strong relevance in structuring thepolitical field, 1 Iwould like to thank Veronika Pehe and Hana Blažková for their comments on earlier versions of this chapter. 128 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism thecountry can provide us with an extended and thus unique perspective on culture wars and their dynamics. Understood as acase study, it can show us how various political and rhetorical strategies can have unintended impacts which are very different from theoriginal intentions of their actors. In this chapter, Iwill reconstruct various conflicts that fall within thedefinition of thepolitics of memory, identity and morality. In their short recapitulation, Iwill focus on how they can change and re-create political identities, how they can transform thedefinition of asituation– in short, on their dynamic aspect. This focus leads me to minimize thelong-term historical context, which is almost omnipresent when discussing thePolish case. Instead, Iwill follow developments and transformations in thelast forty years. In place of atemporal dimension, aspatial dimension will be emphasized based on thepremise that it (and, above all, Poland’s relationship to theWest) played adecisive role in many culture wars. To come to terms with an adequate temporality, Iwill start with two preludes, one focused on the1980s and 1990s abortion debate and theother on changes in thepolitical debate and political arena during the2000s. Then, Iwill focus on thedynamics of theculture wars in the2010s, especially in thedecade’s second half as it coincided with therise of Law and Justice (PiS; Prawo iSprawiedliwość). In conclusion, Iwill discuss what general lessons can be derived from thePolish case as it concerns thedynamics of theculture wars and whether we can hypothesize thenext phases of their development. Prelude I: TheCatholic Church and theBan on Abortions Theyears 1978–89 are remembered as aperiod of struggle for theself-emancipation of thePolish nation. It took place with thetrade union Solidarity (Solidarność), an organization without parallel in numbers and influence in any other country of theEastern Bloc, playing acentral role and with thesupport of theCatholic Church and John Paul II as aunique Polish figure heading aworldly important religious body. John Paul II’s visits to his patria meant thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 129 encouragement and empowerment for theliberation movement– symbols of liberty in thecontext of adecaying dictatorship. TheChurch, represented by this figure, received huge moral capital especially in thepost-communist countries (Ramet and Borowik 2017). It could represent areturn to tradition in confrontation with thefailure of themodernist and progressivist communist rule. It could, at thesame time, represent some level of openness to themodern world after theSecond Vatican Council. Retrospectively, we can see some things differently. We can understand John Paul II not only as acontinuation of the‘spirit of theSecond Vatican Council, but also silent moments U-turning away from some aspects of it, made visible by his close collaborator and successor Benedict XVI. We can also underline thefact that support for Solidarity was not theonly agenda of thepope’s visits to his homeland. There was another mission which was successfully accomplished only afew years after thefall of thePolish People’s Republic (PLR; Polska Rzeczpospolita Ludowa). This mission was aban on abortions, which had been legalized with qualifications in Poland since 1956 (and completely legalized by theNazi occupation in WWII, later to become an important trope in theabortion debate). Already, during his first visit in 1979, thepope was preaching against abortion as a‘grave sin’ which not only damages thesouls of its perpetrators but also ‘endanger[s] thefuture of thenation’ (Kościelniak 2018: 36). Some parts of the Solidarity movement adopted theanti-abortion agenda; for example, Solidarity in Katowice built the‘unborn child’ memorial at thebeginning of the1980s (ibid.: 38). Already in the1980s, theChurch had begun promoting theantiabortion agenda and had some partial successes; in 1984, for instance, thestate banned abortion in anew hospital in Łódź (Ost 1991: 159). Themoment theregime ended, theChurch started to become much more influential; according to some opinion polls, 95% of Poles trusted theCatholic Church. Of course, therole of theChurch in moral issues was not as important as its role in opposition to therepressive regime and thepotential to support an alternative. But this does not mean that theChurch would be inactive in these questions. 130 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Shortly before thefirst semi-free election in 1989, theChurch proposed alaw prohibiting abortions and punishing all participants in them with three years prison. Theproposed law, called theUnborn Child Protection Bill, also used new terminology: a‘conceived child’ instead of afoetus (Szelewa 2016). Theproposal was not accepted in theparliament, dominated at thetime by thePolish United Workers’ Party (PZPR; Polska Zjednoczona Partia Robotnicza), and even theleaders of Solidarity rejected it as ‘divisive’ (Ost 1991: 214); arepresentative of Solidarity’s liberal wing Adam Michnik warned repeatedly of the‘Iranization’ of Poland in 1989 during round table negotiations (ibid.). But in thenew Poland, these kind of activities of theChurch met anew structure of opportunity. Sociologist David Ost, upon visiting Solidarity’s congress in April 1990, was ‘startled to find theunion spending far more time discussing its positions to abortion (fiercely against) than its position to market reforms (for, with moderate reservations)’ (Ost 2005: 62). Theendorsement of theabortion ban by Solidarity shocked many (with thewomen’s section of Solidarity protesting against this endorsement). It led to astrong women’s campaign against theproposed abortion ban in 1991 (with slogans like ‘My uterus belongs to me’, ‘Fewer churches– More nurseries’ and ‘God save us from theChurch’), to apetition for areferendum on theban with 1.3 million signatures and to theformation of theParliamentary Women’s Circle in Polish parliament, membered by both former communists and Solidarity members (Graff 2003: 109, Szelewa 2016: 749, Żuk and Żuk 2017: 693). Theheated public controversy led to thedemand for areferendum. It was refused by Christian politicians and also by bishops in open letter: ‘God’s law cannot be voted for by humans in areferendum’ (Szelewa 2016: 750). President Lech Wałęsa and Prime Minister Hanna Suchocka rejected the referendum, dismissing the1.3million signatures despite fifty thousand being all that was needed by law (Żuk and Żuk 2017: 693). Theban was finally adopted in 1993, sometimes labelled as a‘compromise’ because it made possible abortions in cases where pregnancy was athreat to thelife or health of themother, if it is theresult of acriminal act (rape and thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 131 incest), or in cases where there was ahigh probability of severe damage to thefoetus. Thelaw adopted terminology already present in the1989 Church proposal (Szelewa 2016). An important controversy around theban took place in autumn 1996, when thepost-communist Party of theDemocratic Left (SLD; Sojusz Lewicy Demokratycznej) was successful in adding afourth amendment to thelaw, making abortions possible in cases where themother experienced difficult living conditions– in fact, making theban irrelevant. Ahuge wave of protest followed, making visible thestrength of conservative civil society through demonstrations and public prayers, some of which were organized in front of hospitals where theabortions took place. TheChurch combined moralist and nationalist rhetoric, describing thelaw as ‘not only anti-Christian, but anti-Polish and inhumane as well’, evoking (in thewords of theRadom bishop, Edward Henryk Frankowski) theNazi liberalization of abortions as a‘program of killing thePolish nation’ (Szelewa 2016: 751–752). Theprotests were also agreat moment for Father Tadeusz Rydzyk. His Radio Maryja, founded in 1991, became extremely popular, and he became one of thefaces of theprotest, with declarations like: ‘There is still time, do not become executioners, murderers. Enough of Hitler and Stalin’s crimes, enough of murdering Poland’ (ibid.: 752). Thecontroversy ended with the1997 verdict of theConstitutional Tribunal interpreting Article 38 of thePolish constitution, which reads ‘TheRepublic of Poland shall ensure thelegal protection of thelife of every human being’, as aconstitutional barrier to making abortion legal (Czerwinski 2004: 658). There were various activities trying to revert theabortion ban. In the2000s, this issue was increasingly Europeanized. Catholic conservatives were afraid that Europeanization would lead to acompromise, and their concerns were included in theconcluding declarations of thePolish government in theEU accession treaty (2003): 39. Declaration by the Government of the Republic of Poland concerning public morality The Government of the Republic of Poland understands that nothing in the provisions of the Treaty on European Union, of the Treaties establishing 132 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism the European Communities and the provisions of treaties amending or supplementing those treaties prevents the Polish State in regulating questions of moral significance, as well as those related to the protection of human life.2 This compromise was theresult of fears on thePolish left regarding problems that might be caused by theCatholic Church during theEU accession referendum. According to Piotr Żuk and Paweł Żuk (2019), this preventive capitulation seriously damaged thereputation of thePolish Left. In 2002, ahundred Polish women (including thepoet Wisława Szymborska and film director Agnieszka Holland) addressed theEuropean Parliament in an open letter protesting against a‘peculiar agreement […] reached by theCatholic Church and thegovernment concerning Poland’s admission into theEuropean Union. Namely, theChurch will support integration with Europe in return for thegovernment’s closing [of] thedebate on therevision of theanti-abortion law’ (quoted in Graff 2003: 110). During this time, while theabortion ban was probably agreed upon against thewill of themajority of Poles, at thebeginning of the 2000s support for free choice decreased from 65% in 1997 to 54% in 2002 (Szelewa 2016: 753). Prelude II: The‘Fourth Republic’, or Anti-communism as Present Perfect Continuous Thevolatility of Polish politics after 1989 and its openness to aradical-right challenger was demonstrated as early as during thepresidential elections of 1990. Then, as acomplete surprise, Polish-Canadian re-emigrant and right-wing libertarian Stanisław Tymiński succeeded in thefirst round, bypassing Tadeusz Mazowiecki to come in second after Lech Wałęsa. ‘Stan’ Tymiński’s campaign combined aggressive political marketing, an image of 2 ‘Act concerning theconditions of accession of theCzech Republic, theRepublic of Estonia, theRepublic of Cyprus, theRepublic of Latvia, theRepublic of Lithuania, theRepublic of Hungary, theRepublic of Malta, theRepublic of Poland, theRepublic of Slovenia and theSlovak Republic and theadjustments to theTreaties on which theEuropean Union is founded– Final act– III. Other Declarations– L.Declarations by theRepublic of Poland– 39. Declaration by theGovernment of Poland concerning public morality’, https://eur‑lex.europa.eu/ LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=CELEX:12003T/AFI/DCL/39:EN:HTML (accessed June 26, 2021). thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 133 Western business success, anti-communism, conspiracy theories and thedefence of ‘thepeople’ against economic hardship caused by elites. Twenty-six years later, Tymiński’s political style was sometimes compared to that of Donald Trump (Feffer 2017, Sowa 2018). While Tymiński was only an episodic figure, and another populist leader, Andrzej Lepper (Samoobrona), had marginal success in the1990s, during thefirst half of the2000s thesituation changed. Not only did this era witness therise of aself-conscious conservative nationalist Right but it also led to achange in themain cleavage of thePolish political system. Thepreconditions were changes to thepolitical system, both in terms of demand and offer. Thedemand was caused by acrisis of both economy and some actors (above all, theLeft); theoffer can be described on three levels: political forces (PiS, above all), conservative civil society and conservative intelligentsia. Thecrisis in thepolitical system followed a1990s decade characterized by thesevere impacts of harsh economic neoliberal ‘shock therapy’ brought about by Jeffrey Sachs, Leszek Balcerowicz and others and economic crises which had very inequal impacts, sometimes described as creating a‘Poland A’ and a‘Poland B’ (cf. Hann 2019). On thelevel of thepolitical system, there was competition between thetransformed post-communist party SLD and thevarious offspring of theSolidarity movement. Thus, thesituation was typified both by theprevalence of theLeft (in government 1993–7 and 2001–5 and 1995–2005 in thepresidential office) and by theconnection of both right-wing conservative liberals and theLeft with neoliberal reforms and societal economic shocks. Thediscrediting of theLeft due to corruption, manifested primarily by theRywin affair in 2002–2003, opened space for another articulation of social solidarity. During the2001 elections, four parties entered theparliament for thefirst time, including theliberal Civic Platform (PO; Platforma Obywatelska) and three conservative parties: PiS, TheLeague of Polish Families (LPR; Liga Polskich Rodzin) and Self-Defence of theRepublic of Poland (SRP; Samoobrona Rzeczpospolitej Polskiej). Competition between PO and PiS has become thekey conflict in Polish politics since 2005. 134 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism It was at this moment that we saw therise of theconservative Right, themost important party of which was PiS. Theparty was founded by theKaczyński brothers, veterans of both Solidarity in the1980s and thepost-Solidarity, critical conservative Right in the1990s– they collaborated with Lech Wałęsa and split from him as early as 1990. During the1990s, theKaczyńskis were part of thesmall conservative party Agreement Centre (Porozumienie Centrum) and, in 2001, founded PiS. This party combined strong anti-communist and anti-corruption appeal with state interventions in theeconomy, championing national solidarity and thevalues of family, nation and social cohesion. Together with this, theparty proposed anew beginning and moral revolution (cf. Szczerbiak 2007). On thelevel of civil society there were, as we have seen, important movements around moral issues. Thekey role in Catholic conservative civil society was played by theRedemptorist priest and media mogul Tadeusz Rydzyk (Krzemiński 2017). Aformer emigrant who worked with Radio Free Europe in the1980s, in 1991 he founded aradio station called Radio Maryja. During the1990s theradio created acommunity of listeners connected by aconservative interpretation of moral values and Polish nationalism with antisemitic tendencies. Theradio’s listeners formed alively and vibrant community that could be mobilized for street protests on moral issues or in support of Rydzyk’s media empire, which also consisted of TV Trwam and thedaily show Nasz Dziennik. With this base, Rydzyk was able to defend his independence even from thePolish episcopate, in spite of thefact that some Polish bishops harshly criticised him and tried to control his excesses. Even Pope Benedict XVI had to intervene in Polish church affairs and demand that theCatholic media in thecountry respect ‘theautonomy of thepolitical sphere and theunity of theepiscopate’ (Krzemiński 2017: 93). Sometimes, Rydzyk is compared to Jerry Falwell and his Moral Majority in theUnited States, which also played an important role in both elections and promoting apolitics of morality (Żuk and Żuk 2019). Together with political parties and civil society, there were also various streams of conservative intelligentsia emerging around cultural periodicals and debate clubs and developing concepts which thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 135 became (sometimes in avulgarized version) important to thepolitical rhetoric of Polish right-wing conservative politics (Matyja 2015, Dąbrowska 2018). To some extent (and in parallel with some other streams of conservatives in other countries– theUS and Russia above all) they reconstructed conservativism as anti-liberalism. Liberalism in thepost-Solidarity Polish context is reconstructed as abetrayal of Solidarity’s legacy and is connected with substantive values and truths, ‘participatory democracy’, national memory and theimportant role of religion (Krasnodębski 2003: 59–92). This suppression of Solidarity’s memory is only aparticular case of how liberalism works: It destructs aparticular memory of acommunity, as well as objective truth (Krasnodębski 2003: 39–43; 229–247). Posed globally, we can consider liberalism as thetotalitarian ideology of creating a‘new man’ by destroying traditional social hierarchies and order (cf. Legutko 2016). As an alternative, the Polish conservative thinkers developed some critical concepts like ‘subjectivity’ (podmiotowość) or thepedagogy of shame, which describes aliberal approach that tries to impose shame for thepast crimes of thenation (Dąbrowska 2019). Of primary importance, this milieu developed thespecial notion of Poland’s peripherical position in relation to theWest. They thematized theimposition of Western liberal modernization as ‘selective imitation’ (Krasnodębski 2003: 211) or ‘xeromodernisation’ (Karłowicz 2016). They underlined that not only democracy but also modernity cannot be aproduct of imitation, it must be based on astrong domestic tradition (Krasnodębski 2003). Some Polish conservatives even adopted some concepts of post-colonial theory, following US-Polish literary scientist Ewa Thompson and her essay ‘Said isprawa polska’ (Said and the Polish question, 2005). Thompson and her followers focused on theself-critical stances of liberal intelligentsia as demonstrating theinternalized hegemony of theWest. While thedomestic society is stigmatized as having ‘lower’ standards (and is blamed for its poverty, explained as being aresult of bad culture, for example, of corruption or backwardness), theWest is automatically recognized as abearer of higher moral, 142 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism of law’ in Poland under PiS. Ordo Iuris frames its causes via ‘human rights’, ‘legal culture’ and ‘natural law’ and is able even to intervene on theEU level by lobbying and commenting on norms. Ordo Iuris combines avery professional form with very radical content and roots in Polish Latin American far-right emigration (Suchanow 2020: 446–502). One extremely important target for Ordo Iuris was theIstanbul Convention. Ordo Iuris fought against this document, which was ratified by Poland. It considered it alegal acceptance of ‘gender ideology’ and achallenge to any traditionalist position. In its place, theorganization promoted theConvention on theRights of theFamily ‘to protect therights and autonomy of thefamily and to introduce effective, knowledge-based solutions to combat violence and assist its victims’.4 Ordo Iuris is of course pars pro toto for many more professionalized Catholic conservative NGOs like Fundacja Mamy iTaty (Graff and Korolczuk 2017). Another important part is also played by movements framed as grassroot initiatives, for example, parents’ movements– Stowarzyszenie iFundacja Rzecznik Praw Rodziców (Theparents’ rights ombudsman association and foundation), founded in 2009; Inicjatywa Stop Seksualizacji Naszych Dzieci (Initiative to stop sexualizing our children) founded in 2013; and theStop Gender Network founded in 2014. But thestruggle against theIstanbul Convention was also atopic for thebishops. In December 2013, they published apastoral letter against ‘gender ideology’, which according to them was ‘theproduct of many decades of ideological and cultural changes that are deeply rooted in theMarxism and neo-Marxism endorsed by some feminist movements, and also thesexual revolution. […] Thedanger of gender ideology lies in its very destructive character both for mankind, personal contact and social life as awhole’ (ibid.: 181). Bishop Tadeusz Pieronek declared that ‘gender ideology is worse than communism and Nazism put together’ (ibid.: 176). According to some commentators, like thefeminist Catholic theologian Zuzanna 4 ‘Yes to thedenunciation of theIstanbul Convention. Theofficial collection of signatures has begun’, Ordo Iuris, October 24, 2020, https://en.ordoiuris.pl/family‑and‑marriage/yes‑denunciation‑istanbul‑convention‑offi‑ cial‑collection‑signatures‑has‑begun (accessed June 26, 2021). thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 143 Radzik5or left-liberal Sławomir Sierakowski6 (thefounder of Krytyka Polityczna), for theChurch, this struggle had acompensatory meaning as it had started to face paedophilia scandals. Another topic is thestruggle around LGBT rights. As in thecase of other gender issues, in this context too we can observe the‘globalization’ of thetopic in theearly 2010s. While we can identify strong homophobic tendencies during all three decades after thefall of communism, and these issues played some role even during thedebate over theEU, it was in theearly 2010s that anti-LGBT positions stabilized, becoming akey component of theimage of the‘decadent West’ (Żuk and Żuk 2020). In 2019, Ordo Iuris with thesupport of other Catholic civil society organizations started to promote two resolutions, one against ‘LGBT ideology’ and theother for the‘rights of families’. These resolutions were calibrated for municipalities and local governments. Thesecond resolution declared that no municipal funds would be accessible for any organization which does not accept thedefinition of family as based on themarriage of aman and awoman. Resolutions were accepted by more than one hundred local units, including four (in thefirst case) or five of thesixteen voivodeships. Theidea of an ‘LGBT free-zone’ connected with these resolutions escalated thesituation for theLGBT+ minority in Poland and encouraged some homophobic attacks. Europeanization of this topic brought about two dynamics: Polish conservative activists and politicians could both pose as defenders of ‘local’ tradition against ‘global’ usurpation as well as defenders of European tradition in theEU. Politics of Identity: TheRefugee Crisis The2015 refugee crisis came in an electoral year. In spite of an image of ‘New Europe’ as completely anti-refugee, as late as May 2015, 72% of Poles were in favour of accepting refugees. It was later, at theend 5 Radzik, Z., ‘Przepis na wroga’, Tygodnik Powszechny, October 26, 2013, https://www.tygodnikpowszechny. pl/przepis‑na‑wroga‑20971 (accessed June 26, 2021). 6 Sierakowski, S., ‘ThePolish Church’s Gender Problem’, New York Times, January 27, 2014, https://www.ny‑ times.com/2014/01/27/opinion/sierakowski‑the‑polish‑churchs‑gender‑problem.html (accessed June 26, 2021). 144 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism of thesame year, that themajority of thepopulation refused this possibility (Jaskułowski 2019: 38). Jaskułowski explains this shift as due to the‘pathological Europeanisation of thePolish public sphere’, thetransfer of European debates, images and framings from Western EU countries eastward: Thesituation ceased to be framed by solidarity with refugees and started to be understood more in terms of theEU’s problems with Muslim populations and concerns over following this pattern (ibid.). TheCatholic Church was divided over accepting refugees. Officially, theChurch followed theposition of Pope Francis and declared thenecessity for solidarity. But it also moved responsibility for it to secular authorities and did not initiate invitations of its own (Pędziwiatr 2018: 467). Some bishops also openly challenged theofficial Church position and embraced theIslamophobic definition of thesituation. For example, Archbishop Henryk Hoser publicly spoke about the‘suicide of Europe’ because of thenew Muslim population’s high birth rate (Jaskułowski 2019: 43). However, some bishops sustained aprorefugee approach. In 2017, thearchbishop of Gniezno and primate of thePolish Catholic Church7 declared that he would suspend any priest in his diocese that participated in an anti-refugee demonstration, causing ahuge uproar and many negative reactions in theChurch.8 Some moral entrepreneurs connected with theChurch sometimes became important promoters of Islamophobic stances. For example, ayoung charismatic priest, Jacek Międlar, ‘gained notoriety for his active part in demonstrations against the“Islamization of Europe”, and for mixing elements of Catholic theology with ultra-nationalism, antisemitism and Islamophobia in his speeches’ (Pędziwiatr 2018: 469)– he was eventually suspended.9 7 Amostly traditional and formal role connected with thetraditional status of thearchbishop in Gniezdo, not with real power outside of thediocese. 8 Wencel, J., ‘“Jaki zniego Polak? Jaki chrześcijanin?”. Atak katolików na Prymasa za krytykę antyuchodźczych demonstracji’, OKO.Press, October 22, 2017, https://oko.press/niego‑polak‑chrzescijanin‑atak‑katolikow‑pry‑ masa‑krytyke‑antyuchodzczych‑demonstracji/ (accessed June 26, 2021). 9 jok, ‘Były ksiądz Jacek Międlar bezkarny. Białostocka prokuratura: Nie nawoływał do nienawiści inie znieważał’, Gazeta Wyborcza, September 23, 2020, https://bialystok.wyborcza.pl/bialystok/7,35241,26329709,byly‑ ksiadz‑jacek‑miedlar‑bezkarny‑bialostocka‑prokuratura.html (accessed June 26, 2021). thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 145 TheCivic Platform government of Ewa Kopacz had to manoeuvre in this context. At thebeginning it was hesitant about accepting any refugees, and Civic Platform politicians, including its leader Grzegorz Schetyna, declared their unwillingness to accept any refugees.10 PO refused to accept any refugee quota or permanent scheme for theredistribution of refugees in theEuropean Union and, together with Hungary, Czech Republic and Slovakia, attacked theredistribution proposal. However, in theend, Ewa Kopacz’s government promised to accept two thousand refugees for thenext two years in July 2015; later on, she would promise to accept another five thousand refugees. She argued mostly for thenecessity of solidarity with therest of theEU and expectations theunion would help with refugees from theUkraine. For thePiS, therefugee crisis became an opportunity to play therole of thehardliner. Jarosław Kaczyński securitized refugees in various ways– warning that they would bring about ‘all sorts of parasites and protozoa, which […] while not dangerous in theorganisms of these people, could be dangerous here’;11 citing images of Sweden, with ‘45 zones there governed by Sharia law, there is no control of thestate’, and Italy, where ‘Churches have been taken over and are often treated as toilets’ (Krzyżanowski 2018: 86); and claiming athreat of an ‘overall change of our culture’.12 PiS combined this securitization of Muslim refugees with criticism of the‘real hegemonic power of theEU’ (in thewords of Antoni Macierewicz): Germany (ibid.: 88). PO thus could also be criticized for accepting a‘German dictate’ (ibid.: 89) and betraying theresisting central European allies.13 In defence of ‘Polish civilisation’ (Macierewicz, 10 JK, ‘Schetyna dla TVP Info: PO nie jest za przyjęciem uchodźców’, Newsweek, May 9, 2017, https://www.news‑ week.pl/polska/schetyna‑mowi‑tvp‑info‑po‑nie‑jest‑za‑przyjeciem‑uchodzcow/8g3rpp5 (accessed June 26, 2021). 11 Cienski, J., ‘Migrants carry “parasites and protozoa”, warns Polish opposition leader’, Politico, October 24, 2015, https://www.politico.eu/article/migrants‑asylum‑poland‑kaczynski‑election/ (accessed June 26, 2021). 12 Przemyłski, J., ‘Kaczyński: Nie możemy w to wchodzić’, Gazeta Polska, https://gpcodziennie. pl/64284‑kaczynskiniemozemywtowchodzic.html (accessed June 26, 2021). 13 Szczerbiak, A., ‘How is theEuropean migration crisis affecting Polish politics?’, Blog LSE, July 6, 2017, https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/europpblog/2017/07/06/european‑migration‑crisis‑affecting‑polish‑politics (accessed June 26, 2021). 146 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism quoted in ibid.: 88), PiS used, according to Krzyżanowski, a‘wide range of arguments, starting from cultural/religious incompatibility and ending in radical and blatantly racist statements on biological inferiority that recontextualized elements of Polish historical antisemitic arguments’ (ibid.: 92). After its election success, PiS refused to accept any Muslim refugees. Moreover, thenationalist success also influenced thestate of public discourse. Polish public television and public radio ‘started to undergo adeep transformation, opening thetelevision and radio studios not only to awhole range of new right-wing journalists and commentators but also to far-right and openly Islamophobic individuals’ (Pędziwiatr 2017: 424). While some liberal media like Gazeta Wyborcza stressed openness to refugees (and connected it with respected Western leaders like Merkel or Pope Francis), themajority of themedia accepted Islamophobic positions (Jaskułowski 2019: 43–44). Beyond ‘Culture Wars’? ‘Liberal Democracy’ vs ‘National Solidarity’ PiS was elected on aprogramme of ‘good change’, capitalizing on both thelong period of governance under PO and thedemand for social solidarity and redistribution. It was promised under thelabel ‘Family 500+’, which somehow merged thedemands concerning supporting families and thereproduction of thenation as well as social justice and support for groups in need. However, soon after theelection, thenew government caused huge conflict around classic topics of liberal democracy, challenging ‘checks and balances’, thedivision of power and pluralism in public debate. PiS attacked themedia: thepublic media by replacing managers with loyalists and theprivate media via advertisement revenue pressure from both state and corporations working for thestate (Ost 2018). These attacks on private media continued by challenging private media owned by foreign owners and proposing aspecial additional tax for these outlets. Even more important and coming much sooner was theconflict around theConstitutional Tribunal. As in thecase of replacing thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 147 public media managers, PiS could also use arguments that some of its acts only mirrored theanalogical steps of PO, while its opponents could argue that these steps in this quantity and context were excessive and disruptive of thedivision of power. Criticism of PiS’s steps concerning theConstitutional Tribunal by theEuropean Union and theVenetian Commission also allowed theparty to reactivate the‘anti-colonial’ framing of theissue (cf. Bucholc 2020). Thus, while themassive street protest movement was framed with reference to an intellectual support group for Solidarity named theCommittee for theDefence of Democracy (KOD) and framed its protests as adefence of democracy against authoritarian usurpation, PiS defended its position as adefence of national sovereignty against foreign interference. Opinion polls were not in favour of PiS concerning theconstitutional court; however, support for theparty did not decrease in those same polls (Olechowski 2016: 66). And, in theend, it won the2019 election. To some extent, we can consider this conflict aculture war of aspecial kind, as democracy was on both sides understood in an identitarian way, and theconflict, with its escalation dynamics, did not leave space for compromise. While attacks on thedivision of power can be considered asuccess mostly in terms of power technology, the500+ programme is ambivalently evaluated even by political opponents and provoked, for example, the Gramscian political economist Stuart Shields (2019: 13) to question why ‘agovernment supposedly of thefar right in Poland has offered themost progressive welfare intervention since thecollapse of communism in theregion’. Other evaluations are different and underline that reform is expensive and thus ineffective– and, to some extent, damages female employment– but even critics of thereform must accept that it lowered poverty for families and children in poverty (Karwacki and Szlendak 2020). Shields’s answer to his question is directly connected with thenationalist worldview of PiS– which he frames as populist– and therelationship to thepast and to thefuture: Theidealized image of thenational past is connected with theimage of theheterosexual family with many children, but this familial image is also recognized as thebest way to aproposed national future (Shields 2019: 13). Thus, PiS is able to 148 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism defend this project even against thelarge number of its own voters who criticise thewelfare transfers as ‘irresponsible’ (Gdula 2018: 71). This is one of thereasons why PiS, according to Gdula, is not apopulist party, or this definition is not enough. Its societal authoritarianism operates by proposing different forms of its programme and different forms of moral satisfaction to various strata of society, but all are connected in stressing belonging in anational community, where the‘neo-authoritarian’ elite reinstall thefeeling of ameaningful order (cf. Gdula 2018). It corresponds with thefact that Kaczyński, since the1990s, has built aself-image for his followers as an ‘alternative elite’, while he frames his opponents as a‘mendacious elite’ (Stanley 2016: 258–259). Thesocial ideal behind this image of solidarity is adifferentiated national body, with the‘real’ elite as its organic part. Politics of Morality II: Struggles Over theAbortion Ban vs Church Scandals While KOD framed its criticism as defending thepolitical basis of democracy and therule of law in thestate, theprotest which could compete with it in attractivity could look like aparticular fightback in one particular ‘culture war’. It was thestruggle to revise the1993 abortion law. In autumn 2016, theparliament did not accept theproposed initiative of Ratujmy Kobiety to relegalize abortions. At thesame time, theparliament started to debate banning abortions due to foetal damage. While pro-life organizations framed this kind of interruption as ‘eugenic interruption’, feminists and many Polish women who were not politically active before this moment understood this ban as cruel, forcing thebirth of dead children. Thesituation caused huge protests. On 25September 2016, actor Krystyna Janda shared via Facebook apost about a1975 Icelandic women’s strike with acomment about theimpossibility of such aprotest in Poland because of thelow level of solidarity among thecountry’s women. Her words inspired some women’s activists like Marta Lempart, and theprotest against abortion ban received thename Strajk kobiet (Women’s strike; Suchanow 2020: 24). Tens thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 149 of thousands of Polish women protested in various places across thecountry, and, in theend, theproposal failed to find support in theparliament. While theleadership of PiS probably calculated thepros and cons, the pro-life movement continued its activities in different ways. In 2017, alarge petition for this ban was organized by theChurch (Diduszko-Zyglewska 2019). In November 2019, agroup of 119 MPs from PiS, thefar-right Confederation (Konfederacja Wolność iNiepodległość) and thePolish Coalition (Koalicja Polska– formerly thePolish People’s Party) sent theappeal to theConstitutional Tribunal. This tribunal (14 of its 15 judges were named by PiS) decided on 22October 2020 to ban abortion for reasons of foetal damage. In spite of theCOVID-19 epidemic, more than ahundred thousand Poles protested in thestreets, some of them also attacking churches. During thefour-year conflict, popular opinion has rapidly changed, and, today, amajority of Poles now support thelegalization of abortion.14 In February of 2021, even PO, alongtime defender of the‘abortion compromise’ (the1993 law) declared achange in its position and support for acautious liberalization of theprevious abortion compromise. While thefeminist movement has surprised in recent years with its mobilization capacity and militancy, thereputational losses suffered by theCatholic Church have started to escalate. Single cases of child sexual abuse were already appearing in the1990s and 2000s, and between 2002 and 2012, 27 priests were sentenced for molesting children in Poland. However, those cases became afull-scale scandal in the2010s within thecontext of theglobal sexual violence against children scandal and new information proving theimpotence of theChurch in coming to terms with these problems as well as theparticipation of important church representatives in covering theproblem up or in its bagatelization (cf. Diduszko-Zyglewska 2019: 159–270). In 2018, thetopic became thecause of serious 14 Chrzczonowicz, M., ‘66 proc. Polaków za prawem do aborcji. Rekordowy wynik wsondażu Ipsos dla OKO. press’, OKO.Press, December 29, 2020, https://oko.press/66‑proc‑za‑prawem‑do‑aborcji/ (accessed June 26, 2021). 150 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism societal controversy and acrisis of legitimacy for thePolish Catholic Church. Thefoundation Nie Lękajcie Się published an interactive ‘Map of theChurch’s paedophilia’, visualizing thecases of child molestation, giving it considerable resonance.15 Themovie of Wojciech Smarzowski, Kler (2018), and documentary films of Tomasz Sekielski, Tell No One (Tylko nie mów nikomu; 2019) and Playing Hide and Seek (Zabawa wchowanego; 2020), resonated broadly; Tell No One became themost popular Polish movie on YouTube in 2019. In this context, PiS openly intervened in supporting theCatholic Church. During its May 2019 party convention, Jarosław Kaczyński declared that due to thecriticism of some priests, themovement had changed into an ‘attack on theChurch, an attack on Catholics’, and that the‘words of […] Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński, that whoever wants to attack and destroy thePolish nation will attack theChurch first, are true, just as they were true when they were spoken’.16 This even escalated during theWomen’s Strike when some protests targeted churches. Jarosław Kaczyński reacted by acalling upon members and supporters of PiS to ‘defend Polish churches. We must defend them at any cost. […] Let’s defend Poland!’,17 which was broadly understood as acall for an escalation of thesituation and political violence. Thecriticism of theCatholic Church shifted to are-evaluation of even themost important symbolical figure connecting Poland with Catholicism: John Paul II started to be recognized as aperson co-responsible for the Church’s concealment of broad and probably systemic child molestation. This has led to adecline in his popularity within Polish society and especially theyounger generation.18 As 2020 came to aclose, as aresult of theWomen’s 15 Mapa Kościelnej Pedofilii, https://mapakoscielnejpedofilii.pl (accessed June 26, 2021). 16 ‘Jarosław Kaczyński:– To my zaczęliśmy walkę zpedofilią’, Newsweek, May 12, 2019, https://www.news‑ week.pl/polska/jaroslaw‑kaczynski‑to‑my‑zaczelismy‑walke‑z‑pedofilia/bjyh6ny (accessed June 26, 2021). 17 Nycz, M., ‘Kaczyński wzywał do obrony kościołów “za każdą cenę”. Jest decyzja prokuratury’, RMF24, December 4, 2020, https://www.rmf24.pl/raporty/raport‑strajk‑kobiet/news‑kaczynski‑wzywal‑do‑obrony‑kos‑ ciolow‑za‑kazda‑cene‑jest‑decy,nId,4895699 (accessed June 26, 2021). 18 Klauziński, S., ‘Jan Paweł II już nie taki święty. Młodzi winią go za tuszowanie pedofilii [SONDAŻ]’, OKO. Press, December 23, 2020, https://oko.press/jan‑pawel‑ii‑pedofilia‑w‑kosciele‑mlodzi‑sondaz (accessed June 26, 2021). thedynamics of thepolish culture wars 151 Strike and theChurch’s child sexual abuse scandals, amovement to leave theCatholic Church started to gain popularity. This may represent thepeak of theprocess described by Piotr Żuk and Paweł Żuk (2019) in terms of therising conflict between a‘clerical state’ and an ‘increasingly secularized society’. According to theauthors, theChurch tries to solve its crisis by ‘escaping into politics’. This may defend theprivileged position of theChurch, at least for some time, but at thesame time it may make its problems even deeper, as thepositions of theChurch diverge further from thepositions of themajority of thepopulation. Conclusion In Poland, we can find all three versions of theculture wars– politics of memory, politics of identity and politics of morality– in very important proportions. While in Austria and theCzech Republic (see respective chapters) thepolitics of identity are prevalent and other issues (connected with thepolitics of identity by actors who wanted to reclaim for them some relevance) are of minor importance, in Poland we can see thelong-term relevance and intense presence of those conflicts in thepublic sphere. Not only do memory and morality issues have asimilar relevance to identity issues but their content also somewhat occupies and constitutes theconservative concept of Polish identity. All three arenas of thePolish culture wars have, to agreat extent, made theconservative nationalists relevant and brought them to political power. It turned theconservatives into one actor in themain political cleavage. They also highlighted thepolitical role of theCatholic Church and some moral issues promoted by it. At thesame time, however, they brought about dynamics which can somehow damage exactly those actors who look like their contemporary champions or profiteers. Through constant politicization, theCatholic element of Polish identity became strongly contested. Evoked as aweapon of one side of theconflict, it lost its unifying power. Not only was theimage of aliberating Pope John Paul II partially replaced by images of 254 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism theDeutschnationalen (pan-German nationalists)– early FPÖ leaders professed an adherence to theGerman ethnic and cultural identity. In 1980, apro-European liberal wing took over, and theparty entered agovernment with SPÖ as aminority coalition partner. After Jörg Haider won theparty’s elections in 1986, he developed it into asuccessful Austrian nationalist party. In amodernizing move, Haider left German ethnic nationalism behind and adopted an antiimmigration strategy, highlighted by highly provocative rhetoric. His famous ‘Austria First!’ slogan was directed against foreigners. It claimed to defend aparochial, traditional, locally rooted ‘good old Austria’ against theglobalized world (Hadj-Abdou 2016: 34). His borderline innuendos referring to thetaboos of WWII made him amedia star; his direct, personalized style made him popular in his home Carinthia region and beyond. Haider brought FPÖ from 9% of votes in 1986 to almost 27% in 1999, taking arecord number of seats in thenational parliament. In amove unprecedented since WWII, an openly right-wing nationalist party was made acoalition partner under thechancellor Wolfgang Schüssel (ÖVP) in 2000. Schüssel was thefirst right-wing chancellor after aperiod of thirty years, during which thesocialists Bruno Kreisky and Franz Vranitzky had been ruling alone and in coalitions with FPÖ or ÖVP respectively. Theinclusion of FPÖ in thegovernment was heavily criticized throughout Europe as asymbolic recognition of far-right politics. As expected, immigration was amajor issue dealt with by FPÖ in its almost six years in government between 2000 and 2006. TheÖVP-FPÖ government focused on integration and theassimilation of foreigners. In 2002, aso-called Integrationsvereinbarung (integration agreement) was adopted. Its focus on language skills and access to thejob market but also on thecultural adaptation of migrants to theAustrian context led to aculturalization of immigration politics. On theother hand, it also provided integration policies with much needed framework, funds and institutional focus. In general, thegoverning experience moderated FPÖ by forcing it to reframe its slogans into workable state policies. But coalition politics also led to serious internal conflicts that ended thecoalition and forced new elections in 2002. FPÖ was considerably weakened anew austrian kulturkampf? 255 (down to 10%) and eventually split between aradical faction of FPÖ and Jörg Haider’s side– who went on to start anew party, theAlliance for theFuture of Austria (BZÖ; Bündnis Zukunft Österreich). After Haider’s 2008 death from acar accident, his new party virtually disappeared from thepolitical scene. Due to thesplit, two populist far-right parties competed against each other in national and local politics between 2005 and 2013. Under thenew leader, Heinz-Christian Strache (b. 1969), FPÖ made asecond major change. Strache took over FPÖ in aposition of weakness and on thebrink of disappearance in 2005– after thebulk of cadres and property followed Haider to BZÖ. Under Strache’s leadership, FPÖ radicalized its positions and reformulated its language ‘by projecting polarizing messages and pushing identity politics in ways that had not been possible while they were serving in government’ (Heinisch, Hauser, 2016). Instead of ageneral rejection of (Turkish and other) migrants, thenew FPÖ focused on theMuslim Other (Hadj-Abdou 2016: 36) and began using provocative anti-Muslim rhetoric (Hafez, Rheinisch, Miklin 2019). Thefocus on Islam allowed Strache’s FPÖ to take ownership of theanti-migration discourse in thecompetition with BZÖ and to profile itself as aleading force on thefar right. FPÖ’s New Focus on Islam Besides Euroscepticism, Islamophobia became ‘thecentral discursive and policy frame’ of thereformed far right (Krzyżanowski 2013: 141). Its rhetorical devices shifted from axenophobic repertoire to an identitarian one. In FPÖ’s Handbuchg Freiheitlicher Politik (Handbook for freedomite politics),16 apparently written mostly by thelater presidential candidate Norbert Hofer17, Islam is framed as aculturalized danger. It is presented as areligion of war and aggression whose minarets are Siegesstatuen (columns of victory), as 16 Its fourth edition appeared in 2013. Available at http://www.fpoe‑bildungsinstitut.at/documents/10180/ 13608/Handbuch_freiheitlicher_Politik+(2).pdf/3530ad0f‑4bd0‑47e2‑9b8b‑88a4b2a7a89d. 17 Bailer, B., ‘Die FPÖ und ihr Handbuch für Extremismus’, Der Standard, November 18, 2016, https://www. derstandard.at/story/2000047805924/die‑fpoe‑und‑ihr‑handbuch‑fuer‑extremismus (accessed March 11, 2021). 256 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism areligion whose legal system is incompatible with ‘Western democracy’ and as ademographic danger, especially in certain places such as Vienna (Krzyżanowski 2013: 144). FPÖ had made ample usage of theimage of Islam as acultural and demographic threat since themid-2000s, and, as under Haider, thenew FPÖ was able to attract attention by using catchy and provocative slogans fed through various channels of political advertising. As noted by Hafez, Heinisch and Miklin (2019), most visible were FPÖ’s poster slogans, such as ‘Vienna will not become Istanbul’ (Viennese elections in 2005), ‘No home for Islam’ (national parliamentary elections in 2006), ‘No home for radical Islam’ (Graz local elections in 2008); ‘Thesound of church bells instead of muezzin song’ (Tyrol regional elections in 2008), ‘Away with mosques and minarets’ (2009), and ‘Home instead of Islam’ (2008). In theidentitarian register, Islam is presented as adanger to theparochial, Christian Austrian identity. Migration is no longer just aproblem for thewelfare state and an object of anationalist refusal to share national resources with foreigners, but achallenge to Austrian cultural and demographic homogeneity. The(increasing) presence of people perceived as culturally different is portrayed as arepetition of thehistorical onslaught of Muslim armies during theOttoman occupations of Vienna. FPÖ has turned to warning against aprocess of Islamization by immigration– ‘theIslamic Trojan Horse’ (Turner-Graham 2008). Theculturalized danger of Islam found its reflection in thedefence of the endangered Austrian identity, which is framed as Christian, Western and European. Thesalience of Christianity may be surprising. Theoriginal FPÖ was theparty of libertarian, anticlerical German nationalism (Heinisch 2004). Yet since thelate 1990s, it has morphed into aparty of socially conservative, clerical ‘Austrian patriotism’, defending thesmall Austrian man (Heinisch 2008). Already under Haider’s leadership, FPÖ’s 1997 party programme highlighted ‘Christianity as thefoundation of Europe’ and thetradition of theAbendland (Hafez et al. 2019). Haider’s FPÖ allied with ‘thedogmatic wing of theCatholic hierarchy’ and called for Christianity to defend its values (Heinisch 2008: 49). anew austrian kulturkampf? 257 This ‘cultural patriotism’ (Heinisch 2008) of Haider’s FPÖ was given abroader, civilizationist dimension under Strache. For Strache, Islam was more than areligion; it was ‘atotalitarian legal and social system’ (Betz, Meret 2009: 320) that must be resisted at all costs. Underwriting Huntington’s slogan of aclash of civilizations, FPÖ called for thedefence of theOccident (Betz and Meret 2009: 332). An EU elections poster stated, ‘Our course is clear: TheOccident in Christian Hands’ (Abendland in Christenhand). After 2005, FPÖ stepped up theusage of religious symbols for political mobilization. Strache, for instance, made apolitical speech against theconstruction of an Islamic centre in 2009 with across in his hand or ‘celebrated’ his appeal to Christian tradition in front of thecentral Stephansdom in Vienna in 2012 (Köchler 2013: 13). FPÖ made use of theOttoman siege of Vienna in 1683 to raise emotions against theTürkengefahr (theTurkish menace), forgetting that half of theOttoman soldiers were in fact Christian. For Strache, Christian symbols like church towers and crosses were markers of cultural (Christian) identity, whereas theactual confession of ethnicity was secondary: He has notoriously courted thelarge Serbian minority in Vienna, while making astance of rejecting Islam and Islamism (Hadj-Abdou 2016). What his cultural Christianism did entail, however, is an explicit rejection of abortion, homosexual partnerships and adoption by homosexual couples– that is, theconservative issue of morality politics. Christianity is not present in theFreedomite ‘handbook’ except as abasis for identity; Leila Hadj-Abdou quotes theterm ‘militant cultural Christianity’ to describe theinstrumental nature of FPÖs ‘religious conversion’ (Hajd-Abdou 2016: 41). Theimplications of thecivilizationist outlook brought Strache’s FPÖ close to Netanjahu’s Israel. In 2010, he signed theso-called Jerusalem Declaration during atrip to thecity that he undertook with representatives of theSwedish, Belgian and German far right. Its aim was to convey ‘their staunch support for Israel and its right to defend itself against “Islamic aggression”’ (Schroufi 2015). Abandoning theold, ethnic antisemitism, theEuropean populist far right has framed popular uncertainties as fears of cultural erosion and 258 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism designated Islam thenew enemy of ‘European culture’. Because thefar right believed it shares this new ‘cultural racism’– in other words, ahostility to Islam as aculture and civilization– with Israel, ‘defending Israel is now virtually of doctrinaire importance’ (Shroufi 2015). In his analysis of thecurious consequences of thefar-right anti-Islamic ideological turn, Omran Shroufi quoted Strache comparing himself to Theodor Herzl in an interview to theanti-Islam and pro-Israeli German online platform Politically Incorrect (PI News): ‘Theodor Herzl … who was a‘German-conscious’ [Deutschbewusster] … er, citizen with Jewish roots […] lived in Austria, was amember of astudent fraternity [Waffenstudent] like me; we are, Imean, Iam often vilified’ (Shroufi 2015). Portraying thefounder of Zionism as afellow ‘cultural’ German brings thefar right full circle from anti-clerical, racist nationalism to acultural, civilizationist, ‘Christianist’ neo-nationalism. Even though theneo-nationalist mutation remains an exclusivist ideology, it has cleansed itself of overt racism. Theculturalist (rather than racist) repertoire has amuch higher chance of being normalized and adopted in some form by centrist politicians. Yet concerning its historical sympathies, FPÖ has walked on atight rope between rejection of its fascist roots and attempts to make thefar right acceptable and salonfähig. In 2018, when several FPÖ members were accused of keeping antisemitic songs in books from their fraternities, Strache announced he would set up acommittee to examine theparty’s ties to antisemitic groups and sacked theparty members in question. The‘revamped’ FPÖ succeeded in casting its influence very wide indeed. It made ample use of new media and forged alliances with various sensationalist media and conspirationist internet channels. Strache also used to be very active on Facebook, where he was for atime themost followed politician in Austria (Kurz overtook him in 2020).18 Theinnovative usage of social media included theproduction of cartoons like Der Blaue Planet, HC’s Kampf für Freiheit gegen eine zentrale EU (The Blue Planet. HC’s fight for freedom against acentral EU); viral rap songs featuring Strache and mutual 18 HC Strache had 500,000 fans in 2006; in 2020, Kurz has reached 958,000 fans. anew austrian kulturkampf? 259 repostings of content with allied anti-Islam websites such as unzensuriert.at (uncensored.at). Austria’s most read daily, thetabloid Krone Zeitung, grew dependent on FPÖ content and functioned as its media amplifier. Apowerful, self-feeding and ‘self-confirming’ information environment emerged in Austria19 and allowed the‘revamped’ FPÖ to obtain 17% of thevote in 2008, 20.5% in 2013 and 26% in 2017. In 2016, FPÖ’s candidate scored 35% and first place in thefirst round of thepresidential election, and in 2017 theFPÖ entered government in coalition with ÖVP. By thetime theFPÖ had won its major successes, its polarizing culturalist, conservative and security-centred message had pushed themainstream Right more towards its own positions. TheConservative Turn to theRight If theFPÖ ‘focused nearly exclusively on patriotism, defending Austrian culture and tradition, security, and welfare system’ (Hafez, Heinisch, 2018: 660), it also included its Austrian internal liberal competition as an enemy within its culturalist matrix. Therejection of Islam went hand in hand with therejection of thesocialist party in Vienna during local elections. TheFPÖ had accused Vienna’s long-term mayor Michael Häupl (1994–2018) of Islamism and antisemitism, of imposing theheadscarf and of promoting sharia– because of SPÖ’s openness to freedom of religion for Muslims, thesocialists would invite ‘acultural Islamisation’ (Hafez 2019: 201). FPÖ viewed theAustrian political scene as divided between those who were against Islam and those who were for Muslims. This binary was expressed through thevisual opposition of an election poster pitting Strache and Häupl under thetitle ‘Duel Over Vienna. You Have theChoice’, with aminaret next to Häupl and achurch tower next to Strache (Forchtner, Krzyżanowski, Wodak, 2013: 142). Later, FPÖ accused theconservatives of also standing for Islam. In the2017 campaign, thesame visual binary opposed Sebastian Kurz and Strache. Theformer was accompanied by his quote from 2015, 19 Maan, N. and Schmid, F., ‘“Zur Info”: Das Facebook‑Universum des Heinz‑Christian Strache’, Feature Anal‑ ysis, Der Standard, October 4, 2016, https://www.derstandard.at/story/2000044079645/zur‑info‑das‑facebook‑ universum‑des‑hc‑strache (last accessed March 11, 2021). 260 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism ‘Islam belongs to Austria’20, and thelatter with theresponse: ‘Islamization must be stopped.’21 Kurz’s later stand on theheadscarf ban reflects his unwillingness to be publicly counted as within the‘proIslam’ camp. Thecontext had indeed radically changed between theelections of 2013 and 2017. One month into the‘refugee crisis’, in October 2015, Viennese state elections took place, in which theFPÖ challenged both thelocally strong SPÖ and thegoverning ÖVP. TheFPÖ put significant stress on theinitial openness of theSPÖ chancellor, Werner Faymann, to provide humane treatment to refugees and to support Chancellor Merkel’s decision to disregard Dublin asylum procedures. Using striking anti-migration and antiMuslim rhetoric, theFPÖ increased its share of votes by 5% to 30%, coming in second after aweakened SPÖ and far ahead of ÖVP (9%). TheAustrian centre right chose to confront theold/new competitor on FPÖ’s own turf. TheÖVP ministers gradually intensified their focus on security and migration control. Theyoung foreign minister Sebastian Kurz developed an Austrian response to theBalkan route. As apersonal initiative, and in parallel with German-Turkish negotiations, he negotiated agradual closing of theMacedonian, Serbian and Croatian borders to all but war refugees in January 2016, which was extended to all asylum seekers soon after. Thedecisive Austrian regional diplomacy made Kurz into astatesman. Ayear later, Kurz profiled himself even more decisively as anew type of aleader who would transform ÖVP. Ahead of the2017 elections, he had himself elected party leader with theexplicit condition of concentrating decision powers in theparty leader’s office. He set up his own Bundesliste (election list)– ‘Sebastian Kurz List– TheNew People’s Party’– rebranding theold party into anew ‘movement’. ÖVP’s new transformation was symbolized by anew colour. Instead of thetraditional cassock-black, he chose turquoise– possibly to avoid recalling 20 Metzger Kurz, I. ‘Der Islam gehört zu Österreich’, Der Kurier, January 23, 2015, https://kurier.at/politik/in‑ land/kurz‑diskutiert‑mit‑islam‑religionslehrern‑der‑islam‑gehoert‑zu‑oesterreich/109.687.906 (accessed March 11, 2021). 21 Traill, K., ‘HC Strache Austrian election campaign poster’, October 13, 2017, https://www.abc.net.au/ news/2017‑10‑13/strache‑poster‑‑‑islam‑must‑be‑stopped/9048566?nw=0 (accessed March 11, 2021). anew austrian kulturkampf? 261 theblack and blue coalition of the2000s were ÖVP-FPÖ to build agovernment together in 2017.22 Ageneral turn away from liberal conservativism towards anational-minded right was long in themaking. FPÖ’s rhetoric and demands had driven theimmigration debate within thepolitical establishment since themid-2000s (Heinisch 2008). As thepopulist FPÖ was gaining on thecentrist ÖVP in preference, ÖVP had gradually abandoned its earlier conservative-liberal positions and moved towards security-minded and identitarian positions– aprocess that culminated in thenew ÖVP. Sebastian Kurz has not only steered achange in favour of personalized leadership and asymbolic restart, he has also pushed theconservatives to adopt positions and dominate issues that were hitherto reserved for themore radical fringe. One example of theÖVP’s reappropriation of farright perspectives is thechange in theAustrian state’s relation to Islam. Unlike other European countries, Austria has long had alegal framework that recognizes thereligion of Islam and its representative as apublic corporation. Being thelegal heir of AustriaHungary, Austria has inherited a1912 law on Islam through which theempire regulated theexistence of aMuslim minority in Bosnia. This law was revived and amended in 1980 to create aself-regulating representative structure for Austrian Muslims, theIslamic Religious Community in Austria (IGGÖ)– apartner to thestate that other EU countries are struggling to create. In amuch commented-on revision, theÖVP-SPÖ government had anew Islam Act adopted in 2015. According to Hafez and Heinisch (2018), this new law meant ahistorical break with Austrian consociationalism. In keeping with apluralist legal tradition, Austria used to allow religious institutions to participate in thelegislative process, granting them thestatus of negotiators, commentators and, to some degree, veto holders over thelegal framework (Hafez and Heinisch, 2018: 654). Thenew law has, on thecontrary, adirective and interventionist nature. It limits 22 ‘Von Schwarz‑Blau zu Türkis‑Blau: Parteien und ihre Farben’, Der Kurier, October 24, 2017, https://kurier. at/politik/inland/koalition‑von‑schwarz‑blau‑zu‑tuerkis‑blau‑parteien‑und‑ihre‑farben/293.992.759 (accessed March 11, 2021). 262 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism thefinancial autonomy of Islamic institutions, stipulates thelanguage of religion instruction and even includes aGerman translation of theQur’an. Hafez and Heinisch have shown that thelaw was drafted by conservative legislators in direct response to populist demands. Since Islam has become asubject of political competition, theconservatives have used thenew law to present themselves as alaw-and-order party. Theshift away from earlier liberal positions is remarkable also because of ÖVP’s earlier pragmatic and liberal framing of theIslam issue. In 2011, Kurz was appointed state secretary (and later minister) for integration and has shown acapacity for fresh approaches, namely, highlighting both thepotential contribution of migrants to Austria and theneed to reward integration efforts with public recognition which he used to readily grant to chosen Muslim Austrians. The2015 turn ‘blurred’ theconservative position: It remained open on integration but restrictive when it comes to theautonomy of religious institutions. Finally, in 2017, ÖVP ‘attempted to fully appropriate FPÖ’s agenda during theelection campaign’ (Hafez, Heinisch 2018: 672). Long before theadoption of the security-centred Islam Act, amore subtle change was in themaking. Since themid-2000s, talk of the‘cultural difference’ of Islam and references to an ‘Austrian way of life’ emerged in debates about integration. According to astudy on thepolitical debates concerning theheadscarf issue by Gresh et al., asubstantial shift occurred in theframing of theissue. While theheadscarf was considered areligious symbol throughout the1990s, FPÖ campaigns for ageneral ban on Islam had politicized it and made it into an issue of cultural identity. Gradually, matters pertaining to Islam moved from being issues of religious freedom to questions of cultural values and traditions (Gresch et al., 2008: 414). Public debates about Salafi kindergarten and Muslim pupils reflect this shift: Religion has become framed as an expression of a‘culture’, that is, adifferent and incompatible culture, and thus abasis for thepolitics of identity and, more specifically, Austrian politics of identity. If theÖVP chose to take on far-right subjects and policies in order to better counter therising populism, Sebastian Kurz and anew austrian kulturkampf? 263 ÖVP have only reinforced atendency to culturalize political issues. In this context, issues concerning Muslims transformed into debates about Austrian identity, about theway Austrians see themselves. Old-New ‘Civil War’? Thepolarization of Austria reached unprecedented levels during the2016 elections and again during theso-called Ibiza scandal.23 Theevents noticeably ended along period in Austrian political history that was symbolized by cooperation between two strong centrist parties. For Walter Hämmerle, aveteran journalist and editor-in-chief of theWiener Zeitung,24 the2010s symbolize areturn of theconflict over Austrian identity– one that has accompanied Austria since its inception. From its foundation in thewreckage of thedual monarchy in 1918, Austria has been acountry of entrenched opposing camps, theexception being thethree decades between 1955 and thelate 1980s. Those post-war years produced an image of ahappy Austria, one that has now largely been abandoned to polarizing conflicts over migration, Islam, theEuropean Union and liberal norms. Austria’s Political ‘Camps’ For half of its existence, modern Austria was an embattled republic with afragile sense of self that became asuccessful Alpine republic– acountry called ‘abetter Germany’ by Der Stern in 2005 (Siebenhaar 2017: 20). In thepast decade or two, thefoundations of this construction have been questioned. In thebeginning, Austria was acountry that ‘nobody wanted’.25 Thenewly formed republic was arump state, insecure in its borders and waiting to be fixed by the1920’s local plebiscites. It was constructed on theruins of an 23 Theaffair was triggered by asecretly shot video published in 2019, showing Strache and thedeputy leader of FPÖ offering state contracts in exchange for election help from awoman he believed was theniece of aRus‑ sian oligarch in 2017. 24 One of four Austrian quality newspapers, alongside theright‑liberal Die Presse, theleft‑liberal Der Standard and theCatholic Salzburger Nachrichten. It has been state owned since 1703. 25 Thetitle of a1962 book Der Staat, den keiner wollte by thejournalist Hellmut Andics. 270 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism geopolitical context changed. Theend of theEastern Bloc, EU integration and globalization ended thelong-serving neutrality and brought about questions that could not be handled through consensus any longer (Frölich-Steffen 2004: 285). Political stability and neutrality, theunquestioned bases of theold post-war consensus, had crumbled. Gradually, theblack and red share of votes (that is, thepotential grand coalition) began melting, from 84% in 1986 to theall-time low of 50.3% in 2017.28 In the1990s, Austria lived through atransition that was in many ways similar that of its Eastern neighbours. Its neutrality had lost meaning with theend of theCold War. After decades spent in astate of self-imposed semi-detachment from theWest and from theprevailing liberal capitalist paradigm, Austria decided to join theWest. ÖVP and SPÖ Europeanized themselves and eventually brought thecountry into theEuropean Union. Yet, Europeanization and globalization brought new forms of division: Many no longer identified through their partisan sympathies as red, black or blue but rather on whether they stand on thelosing or winning side of globalization. In relation to theglobalized world, theGreens and FPÖ represent opposite options that gradually became part of thepolitical landscape: an openness to transnational cooperation and to thetransformations necessary to succeed in thenew context and arejection of thedemands of theglobalized era because of thedissolving effect they have on theabovementioned parochial Austrianness. ANew ‘Bürgerkrieg’? Theshared Austrian identity– theone developed through decades of the‘red-black’ coalition– has proved ‘brittle’ (Hämmerle 2018: 283). Since theearly 2000s, contentious events have multiplied in which it seems that afull half of thecitizenry believes something radically different that theother half. It is no surprise that this division has hinged on therelation to immigration, Islam and even ‘gender’– all have consequences for theimage of shared ‘Austrianness’. Immigrants are 28 There were five parties: 62 MPs went to ÖVP, 52 to SPÖ, 51 to FPÖ, 10 to theliberal NEOS, and 8 MPs to theListe Pilz. anew austrian kulturkampf? 271 no longer suspected of crime and welfare opportunism but of also threatening thevery fabric of Austrian society (Heinisch 2008). Since FPÖ has instrumentalized cultural Christianity to declare it thebasis of Austrianness, despite thescepticism and increasing opposition of theChurch (Hadj-Abdou 2016), theMuslim presence and respect for Islam were made into asymbol of aweakening Austrian identity. Finally, an ‘anti-gender’ discourse has been present among theAustrian public since 2012, theyear in which pro-life Marches for Life began annually protesting against Vienna Pride. Extension to Politics of Morality. Besides conservative Catholics, parents’ and men’s rights groups, thefar right is themain channel of anti-gender discourse in Austria. In aprogramme declaration in 2013, FPÖ took astance against abortion, homosexuality and gender equality by using theCatholic term ‘complementarity’ of the(essentialized and hierarchically organized) sexes (Meyer, Sauer 2018: 29). ‘Gender ideology’ and liberal policies are seen as leading to a‘denaturalizing of sexual difference, of heterosexuality and of families’ (Meyer, Sauer 2018: 32). During FPÖ’s stint in government, apetition called #Fairändern was circulated that intended to introduce acompulsory waiting period between registration and therealization of abortion while banning late-term abortions. Thepetition was supported by ÖVP and FPÖ– especially Hofer, then thetransport minister– but it had obtained only sixty thousand signatures by 2019.29 It nevertheless caused concern among human rights activists and feminists, fearing that such ‘aback-door change’ would establish thefirst hurdle to theabortion right in anew political context. In 2017, thetwo government parties declared their support for thepetition’s aims in their coalition programme. Meyer and Sauer argue that theissue of gender plays alarger political role: It enables thecreation of ‘an impenetrable antagonism that is not limited to specific problems or policy fields but pertains to society as awhole’. It has entailed criticism of liberalization reforms since 29 Hausbichler, B., ‘Die Fristenregelung im Visier der Abtreibungsgegner’, Der Standard, May 7, 2019, https://www. derstandard.at/story/2000102620920/die‑fristenregelung‑im‑visier‑derabtreibungsgegner (accessed March 11, 2021). 272 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism the1970s, thearticulation of ‘challenges to thesurvival of Austrian society’ and thecreation of ‘acommon framework’ to connect different actors (Meyer, Sauer 2018: 36). Indeed, besides migration and Islam, theconservative far right has found common ground in aconservative gender discourse that has been criticized by theliberal HeinrichBöll-Stiftung as ‘rolling back gender-political achievements of thelast decades’ (Götz 2020). Women’s rights have been firmly rooted in Austrian legislation since socialist, liberal reforms in the1970s and also since EU accession in the1990s. Anti-gender discourse, pro-life and men’s-rights issues have long been issues of marginal groups. Yet thefar right’s alliance with thecentrist ÖVP has shown that thepolitics of morality can indeed become astake in wider cultural wars if acentrist party decides to take up conservative activism. TheLiberal Camp in theCulture War Walter Hämmerle describes theconfrontation over cultural issues in blunt words. Based on different social and political identities, people oppose each other over language, over identity and over whose values are superior and whose positions are morally legitimate (Hämmerle 2018: 265). After therefugee crisis, this new culture war affected everybody, letting people confess their positions in aquasi-religious language (Hämmerle 2018: 252). Unlike in the1930s, where resolute, militarized, hierarchically organized ideological camps faced each other with violence, ‘today’s civil war is between two lived worlds and different identity feelings’ (Hämmerle 2018: 261) with ‘irreconcilable concepts of thefuture’. One looks to thefuture, theother to thepast (Hämmerle 2018: 12). For Ulrike Guérot (2017), aGerman political scientist, pro-European militant and politics professor in Krems, this Kulturkampf is anew, larger civil war between areactionary and auniversalist, progressive worldview, between theland and thecities, between thewinners and losers of globalization, and between theidentitarians and thecosmopolitans. Both Hämmerle and Guérot seek to diagnose the‘culture war’ in theAustrian and wider European context and call for finding anew way to establish political communities: Europe needs ‘aclear goal, anew austrian kulturkampf? 273 aclear direction and perspective, an emancipatory agenda, aconcrete idea of itself’ (Guérot 2017). Walter Hämmerle proposes anew Austrian narrative based on theAustrian tradition of rule of law since theenactment of acivil law code in 1812 and as expressed in Vienna’s Heldenplaz by thewords ‘Iustitia regnorum fundamentum’ (Justice is thefoundation of thekingdom, Hämmerle 2018: 361). For all their proposals for overcoming thecultural split, liberals such as Guérot and Hämmerle are conscious participants in theculture war, and their engagement is reflected in thestrong language with which they describe it. For Walter Hämmerle, thesudden politization around immigration has not just been aunilateral push coming from thefar right, but atwo-sided struggle from thebeginning that involved almost constant provocations and answers, campaigning and counter-campaigning, and public debates. Theagonistic character of thenew politics was apparent at thebeginning of thenew political era. In 1992, for example, FPÖ initiated asignature campaign aiming to bring about an antiimmigration, ‘Austria first’ referendum. In reaction, amassive demonstration of 250,000 gathered in Vienna to form a‘sea of light’ in January 1993. Thepetition failed but FPÖ grew, and gradually its anti-immigration attitudes would influence thepolitical positioning of mainstream parties. Aliberal Widerstand (resistance) to far-right politics has accompanied FPÖ’s rise. It has been very bürgerlich (civil, urban) in character. According to Ruth Wodak, civil society has gradually awakened due to aseries of public scandals: the1986 Waldheim affair in 1986, theblack-blue coalition between 2000 and 2006 and, finally, during the2015 refugee crisis.30 TheFPÖ’s participation in government has especially energized theliberal part of public opinion. Pro-democracy advocacy groups, such as Demokratiezentrum, were founded in 2000;31 liberal newspapers such as thedaily Der Standard and 30 Schmiederer, E., ‘Fantasierte Bedrohungen’, Die Zeit, September 24., 2015, https://www.zeit.de/2015/39/ angst‑islamisierung‑populisten‑linguistin‑ruth‑wodak/komplettansicht (accessed March 11, 2021). 31 Demokratiezentrum, Mission statement, cf. http://www.demokratiezentrum.org/aktuell/ueber‑uns/mis‑ sion.html (accessed March 11, 2021). 274 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism theweekly Falter dedicated themselves to scrutinizing and reporting thefar right during the2000s,32 and multiple civic initiatives have countered xenophobia. Migrant-friendly acts and projects have become defining signs of Austria resisting thefar right. In 2012, thesocial worker Uta Bock (1942–2019) was given thehighest national honorary award for her citizen activism.33 She had singlehandedly organized private accommodation for refugees since the1990s. Her initiative eventually transformed into an organization in 2002 bearing her name.34 Since thebeginning of thesecond ÖVP-FPÖ coalition, anew Widerstand organized itself again, this time in theform of initiatives such as protest groups (‘Omas gegen rechts’, ‘Offensive gegen rechts’, ‘Jetzt zeichen setzen’), public events (‘Thursday demonstrations’, protests against FPÖ’s ball in Vienna’s imperial palace starting in 2012) or public declarations (e.g., by theNobel Prize winner Elfriede Jelinek). Public activism, sometimes attracting thousands of people to demonstrations against thefar right, has been intense since 2015, especially during thesecond black-blue coalition– resisting both thesymbolic normalization of far-right politics on theAustrian political scene (thesaid ball on historical premises) and its political agenda. Hence, theGreens, civil society organizations and left-liberal media are themselves part of theculture conflict concerning thevision of Austria. Not because they would form amilitant party– theliberals see themselves as defenders of therule of law and of thestatus quo. Their engagement is twofold: reactive and substantial. First, theliberals had long engaged in theattention-seeking game of the far right. Ruth Wodak speaks of the ‘perpetuum mobile of thefar-right’35– astrategic political instrumentalization 32 According to along‑term journalist at Der Standard. 33 ‘Ute Bock ist gestorben’, Der Kurier, January 19, 2018, https://kurier.at/chronik/wien/ute‑bock‑ist‑gestor‑ ben/307.354.256 (accessed March 11, 2021). 34 Cf. die Website about Ute Bock: https://www.fraubock.at/de/ueber‑uns/ute‑bock (accessed March 11, 2021). 35 Schmiederer, E., ‘Fantasierte Bedrohungen’, Die Zeit, September 24. 2015, https://www.zeit.de/2015/39/ angst‑islamisierung‑populisten‑linguistin‑ruth‑wodak/komplettansicht (accessed March 11, 2021). anew austrian kulturkampf? 275 of themedia. Crude provocations would inevitably lead to public indignation by theleftist media and theliberal scene, to further escalation and to theeventual self-victimization of thefar right. Symbolically aggressive behaviour allowed FPÖ to retain aperpetual presence in thepublic debate. Theliberals saw through thegame, but because values and principles were concerned, they could not help but fall into it again and again. Secondly, liberal self-criticism has had asimilar effect of undermining Austrian self-contentment, as did thefar-right onslaught. Asource of cultural ‘counter-hegemony’ since the1990s, theliberal public has cultivated ‘critical narratives that challenge some of thepremises, particularly those related to theSecond World War and theHolocaust, underlying certain versions of thediscourse of “Austrian-ness” summarised above; grassroots political opposition to thecurrent government and (some) of its policies; and new imaginings of what we may tentatively term the“post-national self”’’ (Karner 2005: 421). Hence, both thefar-right onslaught and theliberal mobilization appear to self-intensify because they both seek to undermine thebases of accepted Austrianness from opposite directions. Escalation or Moderation of theCulture Wars? The2015–16 refugee crisis is acase in point: It has led to an unprecedented mobilization of liberal opinion and citizen initiatives working towards theaccommodation of thousands of asylum seekers. Like in Germany, private groups, urban initiatives and Catholic charities mobilized in larger cities, and theliberal public was energized to an unprecedented level. For liberal Austria, thepresidential and parliamentary elections of 2016 and 2017, respectively, had been all themore shocking: Afar-right candidate almost prevailed against thecombined force of theliberal mainstream, and, after winning thepresidency, theGreens were unable to even make it into theparliament thefollowing year. Instead, theelection led to areplay of theblack-blue coalition. Contrary to that, Walter Hämmerle has interpreted both elections as temporary breaks in ageneral culture war. Namely, if Van der 276 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Bellen won, it may have been because of his conciliatory rhetoric, that is, thanks to his attempts to avoid confrontation and to posit himself as aperson of moderation. Further, theGreens did not lose to aconservative electorate; they lost because theparty split just ahead of theelections. Peter Pilz, aveteran Green politician, ran his own party list on markedly cultural issues, including anti-Islam, and won more votes than theGreens. TheGreens thus succumbed to an internal culture war themselves– therefore weakening theliberal camp altogether. Finally, having taken leadership on Islam, migration and security issues, Sebastian Kurz largely blunted theedge of theculture war. For theduration of a (short) electoral cycle, amoderated version of aculturalized politics prevailed in thegovernment. Polarization subsided when thestakes were lowered after thedissolution of theÖVPFPÖ coalition. In 2019, Strache let himself get trapped– via secret recordings of extremely unpatriotic negotiations with apurported envoy of aRussian oligarch. Thescandal led to thefall of thegovernment and new elections in which FPÖ lost in thefederal and Viennese elections in 2019 and 2020 respectively. After revelations about Strache’s expensive lifestyle, thepopulist ‘perpetuum mobile’ ceased performing for amoment. Yet thepolarization goes on. FPÖ in no way moderated its language and ran again on theIslamization ticket, albeit with weaker results. TheGreens made astrong come-back into politics and became part of thefederal government for thefirst time. In thespace of four years, Austria’s political landscape was thoroughly rocked. Theunprecedented rise of amodernized far right was compounded by thegreatest humanitarian and security crisis in years. For amoment, it was possible to envisage an Austria governed by afar-right president and afar-right dominated government and entrenched to thedegree that theculture war would leave no space for apolitical centre, such as in Poland or Hungary. In an unexpected turn which was largely due to thepolitical talents of Sebastian Kurz and to theamateurism of thefar right, theaccumulated tension was defused and moderate governance restored after the2019 snap elections. Still, Kurz’s surprising insistence on extending theban of theIslamic headscarf shows that culturalized confrontational logic continues in Austrian politics, nonetheless. anew austrian kulturkampf? 277 Conclusion Since theneo-nationalist turn of FPÖ in themid-2000s, Austria’s culture wars have deepened on account of attitudes to migration, Islam and, to alesser degree, abortion and gender. They have reached several heights: diverging reactions to therefugee crisis in 2015, thedeeply polarizing presidential election in 2016, and resistance to FPÖ’s second participation in thegovernment between 2017 and 2019. Thecontext of Austrian polarization has been an increasing culturalization of politics since the1990s. If thecountry’s history of culture wars remains part of thehistorical consciousness and possibly also afragilizing element of thenational identity, thecurrent ‘culture wars’ are new– they have developed against thebackdrop of recent Austrian self-understanding. As in theother countries of Central Europe, stability, prosperity and political success are of arather recent nature and fragile character in Austria (in comparison with more settled Western European neighbours). Modern Austria started as aweak and divided heiress of theDanube monarchy. Only after 1945 did it leave thedecades of its ‘civic wars’ behind to transform itself into astable, prosperous and modern Alpine republic. Theyears 1945 to 1995 were an astonishing success. Austria’s EU accession in 1995 marked theend of thepost-war period of reconstruction and national reconciliation. But by in 1999, with thefirst ÖVP-FPÖ government, theatmosphere had changed. Thebases for thesuccess of theSecond Republic– social stability, wide-reaching coordination and conflict-avoidant politics based on asolid liberal-conservative compromise– have been weakened over thelast two decades. Economic liberalization and globalization, political integration into theWest and economic expansion into theEast have all rocked thesocial and economic bases of consensual politics. Thepragmatic and cooperative political style has been challenged by political forces that have introduced moral considerations into politics: post-material liberalism of theecological, critical, human-rightist and internationalist kind on theone hand, and aneo-nationalist and identitarian type on theother. 278 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Politically, FPÖ, thenationalist challenger, has attracted themost attention by breaking taboos and exacerbating political competition on thefar right and, later, across thewhole right-wing scene. Axenophobic turn towards ‘Austria first’ in the1990s escalated into theneonationalist turn of themid-2000s. FPÖ under Strache pursued an aggressive politics of identity based on cultural Christianism that was buttressed by apolitics of conservative morality. On both accounts, FPÖ is no exception in Europe: FPÖ has partnered in its Christianist and conservative policies with theItalian and Scandinavian far right and Catholic fundamentalists respectively. Therevamped FPÖ’s steady rise was eventually countered by thecentre right’s adoption of far-right political themes, leadership style and even programme. By taking control of neo-nationalist issues, ÖVP has both moderated and entrenched theculturalization of Austrian politics. Yet thefocus on thefar right obfuscates thefact that theliberal part of Austria has been engaged in an active and widespread ‘resistance’ to therevisionist and racist politics of FPÖ and thus in thelarger culture war over values in politics. Liberal Austria has been successful in maintaining some taboos, especially those concerning therehabilitation of Austria’s Nazi past, (although FPÖ has succeeded in symbolically breaking several of them), and in preserving Austria’s firm rooting in Europe: Theissue of ‘Öxit’ was ashort lived FPÖ idea during thepresidential election. In comparison with therest of CE, Austria has astrong urban liberal milieu and a history of liberal reforms that reach back to the1970s. Asort of conservative-liberal or patrioticEuropean synthesis continues to live on within thestill dominant ÖVP under Kurz’s leadership. Hence, moderation of theculture wars has been an option in Austria even after deeply polarizing moments. References Alexander, R. (2017). Die Getriebenen: Merkel und die Flüchtlingspolitik: Report aus dem Innern der Macht, München: Siedler Verlag. Betz, H-G. and Meret, S. (2009). ‘Revisiting Lepanto: the political mobilization against Islam in contemporary Western Europe’, in Patterns of Prejudice 43, no. 3–4: 313–334, doi:10.1080/00313220903109235. anew austrian kulturkampf? 279 Bushell, A. (2013). Polemical Austria. The Rhetorics of National Identity from Empire to the Second Republic, Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Gresch, N. et al. (2008). ‘Tu felix Austria? The Headscarf and the Politics of “Non-issues”’, Social Politics 15, no. 4, pp. 411–432, doi:10.1093/sp/jxn019. Forchtner, B., Krzyżanowski, M. and Wodak R. (2013). ‘Mediatization, RightWing Populism and Political Campaigning: The Case of the Austrian Freedom Party’, in Ekström M. and Tolson A. (eds.), Media Talk and Political Elections in Europe and America, London: Palgrave Macmillan. Frölich-Steffen, S. (2004). ‘Die Identitätspolitik der FPÖ: vom Deutschnationalismus zum Österreich-Patriotismus’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 33, no. 3, 281–295. Gavenda, M. and Umit, R. (2016). ‘Austrian Presidential Election: A Tale of Three Divides,’ Regional & Federal Studies 26, no. 3, pp. 419–432, doi: 10.1080/13597566.2016.1206528. Guérot, U. (2017): Ein neuer Bürgerkrieg? Europa zwischen Geist und Ungeist, https://www.pw-portal.de/die-krise-der-europaeischen-union/40576-ein-neuerbuergerkrieg-europa-zwischen-geist-und-ungeist, (accessed March 5, 2021). Götz, J. (2016). ‘Feminist policy as collateral damage?’, Heinrich Böll Stiftung, May 26, 2020, https://eu.boell.org/en/2020/05/26/feminist-policycollateral-damage (accessed March 5, 2021). Hafez., F., Heinisch, R. and Miklin, E. (2019). The new right: Austria’s Freedom Party and changing perceptions of Islam, https://www.brookings.edu/ research/the-new-right-austrias-freedom-party-and-changing-perceptionsof-islam (accessed March 11, 2021). Hämmerle, W. (2018). Der neue Kampf um Österreich, Wien: edition a. Hawlik, J. (2005). Vom Staat, den keiner wollte zu einem der reichsten Länder der Welt, Lecture published at Austria Forum on: https://austria-forum. org/af/Wissenssammlungen/Essays/Politik/Stolz_auf_%C3%96sterreich (accessed March 11, 2021) Heer, F. (1981). Der Kampf um die österreichische Identität. Böhlau, Wien/ Köln/Graz. Karner, C. (2005). ‘The “Habsburg Dilemma” Today: Competing Discourses of National Identity in Contemporary Austria’, National Identities 7, no. 4, pp. 409–432, doi:10.1080/14608940500334382. Krzyżanowski, M. (2013). ‘From anti-immigration and nationalist revisionism to Islamophobia: Continuities and shifts in recent discourses and patterns of 286 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism 2013 Referendum Success Public talk of culture wars started with amass mobilization ahead of the2013 referendum (Petković 2013). Half ayear after joining theEuropean Union, Croatians voted en masse to rule out same-sex marriage and to constitutionally define marriage as aheterosexual union. Thereferendum– afirst of its kind in Europe– was initiated by aconservative Catholic organization Uime obitelji (UIO; In thename of thefamily), led by theCatholic activist Željka Markić. With theopen help of theCatholic Church, Markić was able to gather almost 750,000 signatures in an(only) three-week, legally defined collection period in May 2013 in support of areferendum. Thereferendum’s question was: ‘Do you support theintroduction of aprovision into theConstitution of theRepublic of Croatia to theeffect that marriage is aliving union of awoman and aman?’ Its legality was first put in doubt and forwarded to theConstitutional Court by theSDP government. After it was pronounced legal, thereferendum was held in December 2013. 65% voted yes, with aparticipation of 38%. Theproposed definition of marriage was later made part of theconstitution.2 Remarkably, theconservative coalition prevailed against thewill of thegovernment, against theposition of all major media outlets and against thewhole of urban liberal civil society (Glaurdić, Vuković 2016). Thereferendum was thefirst instance of an open political cleavage on cultural matters between centre-left and rightwing parties. Prime Minister Milanović and President Ivo Josipović (both of SDP), along with other left-wing parties, endorsed a‘no’ vote, whereas theright-wing camp, led by HDZ and theChurch, called upon people to vote ‘yes’.3 Thefactors that played into thesuccess of the2013 referendum were at least three. First, themobilizations were part of alarger conservative reaction to theEuropeanization process that started with opposition to sexual education in school and escalated with same-sex marriage. Thecentre-left SDP government had implemented legal and 2 Thequorum was lowered ahead of thereferendum on EU accession, see infra. 3 BIRN, ‘Croatia Court Gives Nod to Marriage Referendum’, Balkan Insight, November 15, 2013, https://balkan‑ insight.com/2013/11/15/gay‑marriage‑referendum‑not‑unconstitutional‑croatia‑court/ (accessed June 30, 2021). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 287 social reforms, including theintroduction of so-called gender-mainstreaming. It also aimed to implement ahealth education curriculum in schools that would include sex education. TheCatholic Church and conservative outlets and organizations actively voiced their opposition to any sexual education alluding to its alleged plans to ‘impose gender ideology’ (Padjen 2017: 133–134). They eventually obtained its removal from theschool reform by appealing to theConstitutional Court. TheCatholic Church then warned that thesocialist government may extend its liberal reforms to therights of homosexuals. This expectation may have been due to direct foreign influence– thesecond factor. In 2012–13, amassive conservative mobilization called ‘La Manif pour tous’ (LMPT; Demonstration for all) protested in France against theHollande presidency for allowing same-sex marriage. TheUIO leader Željka Markić was directly inspired by LMTP (Hodzić and Bijelić 2014: 12) and moved to undertake asimilar campaign in Croatia. Hence themobilization had aconservative, anti-liberal character linked to aconservative Catholic movement that was just taking form in Western Europe (Kuhar and Patternotte, 2017). Thirdly, thesuccess of thereferendum was, in theend, due to amore prosaic reason: It could force aconstitutional change with aturnout lower than 40% because of a2010 constitutional amendment that removed therequirement in Croatia for 50% turnout in referendums, adjusted to ensure thesuccess of theEU accession referendum (Petričušić et al., 2017). For theSDP prime minister, Milanović, demanding areferendum on same-sex marriage was apopulist move on theopposition’s part: ‘This aggressive group of people – II´m thinking of their values– is guided by acultural war, and, at this stage, theconstitution is much more amenable to them, so it’s easier to impose their own political agenda and programme [through areferendum] than in theparliament.’4 Thereferendum’s quick and massive campaign was openly supported by theRCC’s bishops, conservative Catholic 4 ‘Milanović: Vrlo agresivna grupa ljudi provodi kulturni rat’, Slobodna Dalmacija, May 22, 2013, https:// www.slobodnadalmacija.hr/novosti/hrvatska/clanak/id/202002/milanovic‑vrlo‑agresivna‑grupa‑ljudi‑provo‑ di‑kulturni‑rat‑jovanovic‑kurikulum‑zdravstvenog‑odgoja‑nije‑ukinut (accessed June 30, 2021). 288 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism NGOs and right-wing political parties. UIO’s capacity to quickly mobilize afifth of all registered voters demonstrated thestrength of theanti-liberal coalition. Former public initiatives seeking to obtain areferendum on more politically consequential questions such as (non-)cooperation with theInternational Criminal Tribunal for theformer Yugoslavia in 2007 and on theborder with Slovenia in 2009 were unsuccessful in gathering support. In 2013 though, themobilization did succeed in apurely symbolic matter of public morality: Croatia’s legal system had already defined marriage as aheterosexual union in theFamily Act (2009). The referendum’s aim hence lacked any specific consequences apart from anchoring public rejection of homosexual marriage in astronger legal text. Thereferendum notwithstanding, theCroatian Parliament adopted alaw on theregistered partnership of persons of thesame sex in 2014. Although UIO tried to use thereferendum results to block this new law, it passed with thesupport of aclear majority (89 for and 16 against, out of 150) in parliament. Thereferendum had theeffect of mobilizing conservative Croatian society, strengthening theRCC’s role in social affairs and highlighting theliberal-Catholic cleavage in Croatia. After this large mobilization of theright-wing public, HDZ was, to no surprise, swept back into power in 2015. After 2013, another ‘culture war’ erupted around theadoption of theso-called Istanbul Convention (IC) and over demands to restrict abortion. On both accounts, theconservative camp organized regular rallies and campaigns. This time, theIC proponents actively resisted. Taking their cue from theconservatives, theliberals also framed their campaign in cultural terms, warning against a‘conservative revolution’ and ‘conservative tsunami’. Lacking thesupport of amajor political party, theconservative mobilization failed to repeat thesuccess of 2013: TheIstanbul convention was ratified by alater HDZ coalition government in 20185, and theConstitutional 5 Croatia ratifies the Istanbul Convention, Council of Europe, June 12, 2018, https://www.coe.int/en/ web/istanbul‑convention/newsroom/‑/asset_publisher/anlInZ5mw6yX/content/croatia‑ratifies‑the‑istan‑ bul‑convention (accessed June 30, 2021). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 289 Court rejected acase against abortion, stalling theissue. Nevertheless, moral issues have become amainstay in Croatian public debates. Return of Nationalist Rhetoric in 2013 In aparallel development to theconservative mobilizations, apalpable ‘right turn’ occurred amongst thepublic directly following theevents of 2013. This was marked by an increasing number of public controversies, scandals and conflicts over theremembrance of the1991–95 war. Nationalist rhetoric re-entered thepublic sphere via three salient incidents. Thefirst major event erupted in Vukovar in 2013. In amove towards asettlement in post-war Croat-Serbian relations, Croatia strengthened thelegal protection of ethnic minorities. Acensus within theformerly binational city of Vukovar, which was destroyed by thenationalist Serb military in 1991, showed that thenumber of Serbs had passed acertain threshold. This gave them theright to use theSerbian language (i.e., Cyrillic) in public documents. Consequently, street names in Cyrillic were added to theCroatian (Latin) ones. Theresults were furious protests during which theCyrillic signs were torn down. TheVukovar incident is considered amoment of change. In late 2013, incidents of hate speech became more numerous ‘after radical elements of HDZ sensed political capital to be gained by fanning anti-Serb sentiment’.6 Another change in public rhetoric occurred in 2015, on thetwentieth anniversary of Operation Storm (Oluja) in Knin celebrating thefour-day liberation of theCroatian territory from Serbian paramilitaries7 in August 1995. At theunusually massive national celebration, all political parties were present, and amilitary parade was held. According to Dejan Jović, apolitical scientist in Zagreb, theunprecedented nationalistic tone of theevent was linked to theupcoming Croatian parliamentary elections later that year as both theleft-wing 6 Opacic, T., ‘Selective Amnesia: Croatia’s Holocaust Deniers’, Balkan Insight, November 24, 2017, https://bal‑ kaninsight.com/2017/11/24/selective‑amnesia‑croatia‑s‑holocaust‑deniers‑11‑16‑2017/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 7 During which theformerly occupied territories were also cleansed of their Serbian inhabitants. 290 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism and right-wing blocs used theevent to display their patriotism.8 Like in Serbia and Bosnia and Herzegovina at that time, nationalist language had recently returned to dominate thepublic discourse. During theentire election campaign, aturn to theright affected thewhole mainstream political class and public debates in general. Intolerant and revisionist views were largely tolerated by thepolitical class– and later criticized by human rights activists. According to Croatia’s ombudsman, ‘There are more and more media propagating and spreading prejudices and stereotypes, publishing texts that incite hatred against minorities, rehabilitating theUstashe regime and diminishing or denying crimes committed in World War II.’9 Finally, theright-wing coalition government that took office in 2016 brought themost overt nationalist and revisionist rhetoric to thepublic space since the1990s. TheHDZ majority government, led by the independent Tihomir Orešković (January–October 2016) in coalition with thepopulist party Most, included Zlatko Hasanbegović as theminister of culture. Hasanbegović is aCroat Muslim historian with far-right views and ahistory of contacts with far-right revisionist groups.10 Apart from breaking taboos by participating in controversial WWII commemoration events, he used his power to cut subsidies to alarge segment of theurban cultural institutions and liberal media. His public support for nationalist and revisionist groups and aggressive moves against urban liberal culture was considered akind of ‘culture war on behalf of theCroatian Right’, that is, an attempt to support theinstallation of conservative nationalist hegemony in state cultural policy.11 He, too, has complained of a‘cultural war’ being waged against himself 8 Panic, K. et al., ‘Nationalist Commemorations Threaten Balkan Reconciliation’, Balkan Insight, August 7, 2015, https://balkaninsight.com/2015/08/07/nationalist‑commemorations‑threaten‑balkan‑reconciliation‑08‑07‑2015/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 9 Opacic, T., ‘Selective Amnesia: Croatia’s Holocaust Deniers’, Balkan Insight, November 24, 2017, https:// balkaninsight.com/2017/11/24/selective‑amnesia‑croatia‑s‑holocaust‑deniers‑11‑16‑2017/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 10 Hasanbegović, Z., ‘Hasanbegović: Ustaše su heroji, mučenici išehidi’, Portal Novosti, February 13, 2016 https://www.portalnovosti.com/hasanbegovic‑ustase‑su‑heroji‑mucenici‑i‑sehidi/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 11 ‘Hasanbegović vodi “kulturni rat” za hrvatsku desnicu’, Politika, 6.5.2016 themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 291 after he was denounced as an NDH-nostalgist by liberal media outlets based on aphotograph from 1993 where he appears wearing an Ustashe cap.12 Amonths-long confrontation ensued, pitting against each other theliberal, cultured urbanites and therevisionist minister. This extremely controversial government lasted less than ayear and Hasanbegović was forced to leave, but thechanges in political culture were to last. Thenationalist rhetoric grew even stronger in thesubsequent electoral campaign, this time also fuelled by theSDP leader, Zoran Milanović.13 In 2016, ‘culture war’ became an accusation of HDZ and theSDP alike. Activists from both sides bore cultural identities denoted by slightly derogatory terms given to them by their adversaries: kulturnjaci (‘theculture people’ or liberal activists) against obiteljaši (‘thefamily people’ or conservative activists). Themedia landscape also started changing in those years, and not only in Croatia. Besides an increasingly conservative editorial policy within themain outlets, areport by theReuters Institute highlighted thegrowing popularity of right-wing radical websites and conservative portals linked to Catholic NGOs, HDZ and theRCC, as well as alack of popular media on theleft side of thespectrum.14 Theconservative mobilization in politics through referenda continued into 2018. Two conservative citizens’ initiatives, ‘ThePeople Decide’ and ‘Truth about theIstanbul Convention’, collected signatures for two different referendums. Theformer sought to make Croatian election law ‘fairer’ so that it would, in effect, limit therights to minority representation of Serbs in parliament15, collecting 450,000 12 Chastand, J.‑B., ‘Accusé de révisionnisme, un ministre croate dénonce une « guerre culturelle »’, Le Monde, May 20, 2016, https://www.lemonde.fr/europe/article/2016/05/25/accuse‑de‑revisionnisme‑un‑ministre‑cro‑ ate‑denonce‑une‑guerre‑culturelle_4926352_3214.html?xtmc=hasanbegovic&xtcr=1 (accessed June 30, 2021). 13 Milekic, S., ‘SDP Leader’s Tirades Leave Croats Bemused’, August 30, 2016, https://balkaninsight. com/2016/08/30/leftist‑leader‑tries‑antagonizing‑croatia‑s‑elections‑campaign‑08‑29‑2016/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 14 Peruško, Z., ‘Croatia’, Digital News Report 2018, Reuters Institute, http://www.digitalnewsreport.org/ survey/2018/croatia‑2018/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 15 Thefirst campaign concerns proposed changes to Croatian election law. It calls for thenumber of MPs to be cut from 150 to 120, for an increase in preferential voting on party slates from one to three votes, for arestric‑ tion in minority MP voting rights; and areduction in therights of thecountry’s ethnic Serbs, who make up about 5% of thepopulation: Vladisavljevic, A., ‘Croatian Conservative Campaigners Claim Rapid Success’, Balkan 292 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism signatures to this effect.16 Thesecond petition collected some 60,000 signatures for areferendum on theconvention. Only thefirst initiative passed with therequired 370,000 signatures (10% of thetotal electorate); however, thereferendum itself has since been stalled by thegovernment. Therelative success of thefirst initiative shows acertain convergence between theCatholic conservative camp and thenationalist one: Theinitiative had aclear majoritarian aim and was led by thenotorious Željka Markić. Although she had helped to consolidate theconservative nationalists ahead of theHDZ victory in the2015 elections, she has since been side-lined by themoderate conservative HDZ PM Andrej Plenković and turned to national issues. In sum, theyears 2013–16 led to achange from apro-European consensus towards an incessantly confrontational political atmosphere. Thepeculiarity of thecultural split was its constant physical mobilization. Conservative activism was countered by aliberal mobilization of asometimes sizeable character. Among other events, in June 2016, 40,000 people protested the‘conservative turn’– theeffective forestalling of needed school reform and media censorship– with theslogan ‘Croatia Can Do Better’;17 in 2017, feminists tried to block and symbolically protest alarge pro-life demonstration in Zagreb;18 and Zagreb Pride has also grown, with people protesting theright-wing turn. Repoliticization of thePast Themost visible shift in political communication and theheaviest public confrontations developed on thepolitical margins in relation to theremembrance of the1991–95 Homeland War and theNDH period during WWII (1941–45). It is no understatement to say that Insight, May 17, 2018, https://balkaninsight.com/2018/05/17/croatian‑referendum‑initiatives‑praise‑their‑suc‑ cess‑in‑signature‑collection‑05‑17‑2018/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 16 HINA, ‘Civil Initiative Claims It Has Enough Signatures for Referendum’, May 30, 2018, https://www.to‑ tal‑croatia‑news.com/politics/28712‑civil‑initiative‑claims‑it‑has‑enough‑signatures‑for‑referendum (accessed June 30, 2021). 17 Mijić, K., ‘“Croatia can do better”’, Political Critique, June 4, 2016, http://politicalcritique.org/in‑pic‑ tures/2016/croatia‑can‑do‑better/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 18 Brakus, A., ‘Resistance to TheConservative Revolution in Croatia’, Kosovo two point zero, May 22, 2017, https://kosovotwopointzero.com/en/resistance‑conservative‑revolution‑croatia/ (accessed June 30, 2021). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 293 Croatia has lived under theshadow of wars for all of its short independent existence: First as avictim of aggression, later as aparticipant in war and, finally, as acountry that had to come to terms with aseries of war-related traumas. Croatia’s responsibility for crimes committed in theCroatian territory has always been apolitical burden that Croatia seemed to have progressively come to address and resolve. All themore surprising then is therecent repoliticization of thepast or, more specifically, thepolarizing usage of public remembrance acts by thegovernment, far-right groups and popular culture figures (respectively examined below). Croatia’s attitude towards crimes committed under its jurisdiction during theHomeland War has been amatter of both domestic and foreign policy. Thestart of EU accession negotiations hinged upon Croatia’s extradition of General Ante Gotovina, who was accused at theICTY of responsibility for crimes against humanity and against civilians during Operation Storm. For most Croatians, he was ahero who made right an earlier foreign aggression. His surrender to theHague as aprerequisite to EU accession was therefore considered ahumiliation. He was eventually arrested in theCanary Islands in 2006. TheHDZ government of Ivo Sanader, who had earlier criticized thecooperation with theICTY, was forced to hand Gotovina over to theHague. Thegeneral was first found guilty in 2011, but in 2012 he was acquitted of all charges. He was brought back in agovernment plane (Šabić 2019: 180) and was celebrated at theabovementioned commemoration of Operation Storm in 2015. Since his acquittal, theHomeland War was officially proclaimed aclean operation, and it became publicly accepted that the150,000 Serbs who fled during theattack had just ‘left’. After what was received as asymbolic whitewashing from theHague– which was likely an unintended effect of transitional justice institutions– theHomeland War ceased to be theprimary divisive subject. It was quickly replaced by World War II controversies.19 19 In 2017, Croatia was found guilty of being an accomplice in crimes against humanity in theBosnian War. TheCroatian public is still somewhat divided over theofficers found guilty at theICTY. Arecent controversy fol‑ lowed Slobodan Praljak’s public suicide during acourt reading of his sentence in theHague in 2017. See Milekic, S., 294 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism Besides Knin, thecelebration site for theend of theHomeland War, Croatia has two other major memorial sites, plus adozen minor ones. There is Jasenovac, theUstashe concentration camp where around 80,000 Serbs and Ustashe opponents were killed between 1941 and 1945, and Bleiburg, afield on theAustrian side of theSlovenia-Austria border where themass killing of thefleeing Ustashe army and civilians started at thehands of Tito’s Partisan Army in 1945. All sites of memory are visited yearly, with attendance ranging from thedozens to tens of thousands. Every year has its ‘memorial season’ during which emotionally loaded speeches keep stirring political confrontations, especially in election years. Thememorial season lasts for about five months: Starting in Jasenovac (22April), passing through Bleiburg (May 15), theAnti-Fascist Struggle Day on 22June (Jazovka and Brezovica), theYugoslav Croat uprising on 27July in Srb, and ending with Victory Day in Knin on 5August. Vukovar closes theyear on 18November with the least controversial commemoration as there are no official speeches by politicians, just masses. It is not surprising that mass gatherings are politicized. But their role as platforms for symbolic politics has only increased since themid-2010s. During the2015 campaign, and after HDZ took leadership of acoalition government, WWII memory politics became afield of increasing political confrontation. HDZ celebrated theend of WWII at amassive gathering in Bleiburg that attracted acrowd of 20,000 and later reduced its presence in Jasenovac to asilent wreath laying ceremony– ostensibly favouring theopposite major remembrance site to that of SDP. But party politics is not thesole driver of thepolitics of memory. Since thereturn of HDZ to power, and most visibly since thesecond, more moderate HDZ government under Plenković, far-right groups have become an active factor in thememory politics. Apart from participating heavily in theBleiburg and Knin commemorations, far right and nationalist groups attempted to prevent or ‘Croatia: WWII Controversies and aGeneral’s Suicide’, Balkan Insight, December 26, 2017, https://balkaninsight. com/2017/12/26/croatia‑wwii‑controversies‑and‑a‑general‑s‑suicide‑12‑22‑2017/ (accessed June 30, 2021). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 295 disrupt several anti-fascist commemorations in 2016.20 Citizen historical societies have published revisionist accounts of theJasenovac concentration camp by presenting Croats as victims. In 2017, aplaque with asemi-legal Ustashe wartime salute ‘Za dom spremni!’ (For thehomeland, ready!), attached in avillage near Jasenovac, led to protests and boycotts by the Serb minority, theJewish community, human rights groups and liberals and to aserious government crisis. Finally, therepoliticization of remembrance has extended to abroader sphere of sports and popular culture. With thedivisions about memory out in theopen, Croatia has developed an ‘obsession with thepast’ (Pavlaković 2019: 121). Casual, hidden and overt Ustashe symbols, such as theletter ‘U’; theabovementioned Ustashe salute; and patriotic songs with war references, have moved out from thenarrow right-wing and football fan subculture and have entered themainstream. Anoted public controversy erupted in 2013 over themainstreaming of theUstashe salute, which had been forbidden during communist times. Its usage by thefootballer Šimunić in avictorious qualification football match against Iceland caused an outcry. Šimunić was disqualified for theWorld Cup in Brazil, even after his lawyers attacked thetestimony of Serbian historians and gathered 300,000 signatures in his support. He remained unrepentant, helping to radicalize thepublic debate by complaining about ‘forbidden patriotism’ (Brentin 2016: 870). Similar incidents are regularly prosecuted by FIFA,21 but they seem to have become amainstay in Croatia– in football, in handball and in popular music too. Ustashe references have also become mainstream in pop music, where provocation brings popularity. Themost notorious example is 20 Milekic, S., ‘Croatian Right‑Wingers Removed from Anti‑Fascist Monument’, Balkan Insight, July 18, 2016, https://balkaninsight.com/2016/07/18/croatian‑far‑rightist‑removed‑from‑anti‑fascist‑monument‑07‑18‑2016/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 21 Milekic, S., ‘FEATURE: Croatia’s ‘Banal’ Fascism on Display at Israel Match’, Balkan Insight, March 25, 2016, https://balkaninsight.com/2016/03/25/israel‑match‑scandal‑shows‑banalization‑of‑croatia‑s‑fascism‑03‑24‑2016/ (accessed June 30, 2021). 302 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism 2017: 191). Markovina uses an expression of theabovementioned, revisionist minister of culture, Zlatko Hasanbegović, who called for ‘theconsolidation and creation of anew national paradigm by which thenew Croatia will finally unburden thespirits of thepast and establish anew national model [novi nacionalni obrazac] that will integrate theentire nation and end ideological conflicts’.26 While Hasanbegović possibly wished to leave thepast behind, his aggressive policies as aminister of culture marked aclear shift from theliberal, ‘progressive’ Europeanization model towards national ‘integration’ by means of anew symbolic politics. Markovina criticized him for leading ‘acultural revolution’ (Markovina 2017: 238). After 2000, when HDZ moved partly towards thecentre, several minor far-right parties emerged– theCroatian Pure Party of Rights (HCSP; Hrvatska čista stranka prava) and theCroatian Party of Rights (HSP; Hrvatska stranka prava)– as well as aseries of farrightist movements. Thenew revisionism of right-wing activists went much further that Franjo Tuđman’s measured recognition of NDH’s failed trajectory towards national independence. Since 2013, references and even celebrations of Ustashe heroes became more overt, self-confident and intentionally provocative. In theintellectual sphere, prominent liberals such as thelate historian Ivo Banac and his wife Andrea Feldman have left their liberal convictions behind and have joined thenational conservatives. Various cultural actors such as theChurch, aplethora of national-conservative civil society organizations and thinktanks, veteran groups and historical societies have entered thefield of culture politics with their agendas. Among those, theone alternative articulation of national identity that has successfully challenged theliberal-conservative consensus came from thetransformation of theCatholic Church’s public role. 26 HINA, ‘Potrebno je uspostaviti jedan novi nacionalni obrazac koji će integrirati cijelu naciju iprekinuti ideološke sukobe’, Jutarnji List, January 22, 2016, https://www.jutarnji.hr/vijesti/hrvatska/hasanbegovic‑potreb‑ no‑je‑uspostaviti‑jedan‑novi‑nacionalni‑obrazac‑koji‑ce‑integrirati‑cijelu‑naciju‑i‑prekinuti‑ideoloske‑sukobe/ 89890/ (accessed June 30, 2021). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 303 Croat-Catholic Identity TheRoman Catholic Church was central to Tuđman’s project of achieving national sovereignty, and it enjoys aprominent national role similar to that of thePolish Catholic Church– being Croatian is held synonymous with being Catholic. Yet, theCroatian selfperception as ‘themost Catholic country in Europe’ is, according to Vjekoslav Perica, rather recent (Perica 2006: 312). Indeed, theRCC became central to theCroatian national project only in the1970s and gained therole of national institution later in the1990s. Recently, theChurch has worked towards maintaining this role via various means, including participation in theCroatian culture wars. Thenational role of theRCC has changed throughout history. Even after thefirst articulations of Croat aspirations for autonomy, Church elites remained loyal to theHabsburg empire or were later open to abroad South Slav unification (such as Josip Strossmayer). Lower clergy developed anational identity before theChurch hierarchy. After the dissolution of Austria-Hungary, the Catholic Church was regarded as Croatia’s anchor within Latin Christianity and Western Europe, as opposed to theBalkans. In interwar Yugoslavia, theRCC was painfully aware of being aminority church and was unable to persuade theOrthodox-dominated kingdom to conclude astate treaty with theVatican. TheRCC then took chances on regimes that were giving it alarger, national role. During WWII, parts of theRCC accommodated theradical nationalist Ustashe regime under theleadership of Archbishop Alojzije Stepinac (1898–1960). He was later condemned by aYugoslav court for collaboration, but his stance towards fascism has remained controversial. Similarly contentious was theprominent role of some clergy during theHomeland War. In the1990s, therelationship between thenationalist leadership and theChurch was finally mutually beneficial, even if there was little sympathy between theformerly atheist Tuđman and thehigher clergy (Ramet 1996). TheRCC started to play an important national role on its own beginning in the1970s. After thesuppression of themasovni pokret (mass movement), that is, theCroatian Spring, demanding economic and cultural self-determination on an ethnic basis in 1971, 304 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism aprolonged period of Hrvatska šutnja (Croatian silence) ensued. Therein, theChurch became theonly politically tolerated repository of national identity and themain pillar of thenational idea (Perica 2002: 57). Theassociation between aCroatian and aCatholic identity was strengthened during the1980s when theChurch worked towards a religious awakening throughout Croatia. The‘Great Novena’, anine-years-long prayer campaign, was designed as much to celebrate thecoming of Christianity to Croatia as to mobilize therestive public in apatriotic spirit on theChurch’s grounds. Both membership of and thenational legitimacy of theCroatian Church (crkva uHrvata) grew significantly. Thenovena culminated in 1984 with amassive religious celebration in Zagreb and, indirectly, thefamous Medjugorje apparition of theGospa, Our Lady, in 1981. Because of asimultaneous religious and national awakening in thelate 1980s, Perica argued that theCroat Catholic identity and theCroat nation were in fact born together (Perica 2006). In 1990, thenational role of theRCC transformed again. Afullblown ‘national-Catholic fusion’ (Busse 2015) developed due to theRCC’s important humanitarian role during thewar and, above all, thanks to its overt alliance with thehegemonic HDZ. Franjo Tuđman considered Catholicism adistinct feature of theCroats and offered the RCC aclose political partnership in exchange for support and legitimization. Thealliance gave theRCC direct institutional access and important privileges. TheRCC was recognized for its role in preserving theethnic Croat identity during communism and was given theopportunity to act through state institutions to further catholicize theCroatian identity– mostly through youth education. Aseries of contracts concluded between Zagreb and theVatican between 1997 and 1998 ‘established theChurch as anational institution’ (Perica 2016: 13). Thestate introduced religious education in schools on par with other subjects so that virtually all school children nowadays take religion classes that are given by clerics nominated by theRCC and paid by thestate. TheRCC was restituted nationalized assets and receives substantial subsidies. It has also become one of thenation’s largest beneficiaries of privatization, having become alarge entrepreneur and awealthy institution (Perica 2016: 13). themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 305 Thealliance with HDZ was tacitly accepted by Cardinal Kuharić, who was thehead of theCroatian RCC until 1996. After his death, RCC leaders demonstrated more autonomy, for example by establishing relations with theOrthodox Church and by accepting greater inner pluralism. After Tuđman’s death and during theSDP governments, theCroatian RCC lost its privileged institutional access. Progressively, according to Busse (2015), it sought to recover its influence over social and political affairs through new channels, mostly through Catholic civil society. TheRCC found its new public role particularly in matters that pinned conservative social norms against liberal norms that were framed as foreign. A conservative nationalist tendency among theRCC hierarchy in Croatia stemmed in part from theRCC’s role in Tuđman’s system of ‘national Catholicism’ (Perica 2016: 11). Yet even before theHomeland War, theRCC had been staunchly conservative. Until independence, theChurch operated with limited contacts abroad and developed and maintained explicitly anti-Vatican II positions. Its main outlet is called Glas Koncila, the‘Voice of the[Vatican] Council’, yet it regularly expresses ultra-conservative and revisionist views and attacks minorities and anti-fascists (Perica 2016: 14). After independence, theRCC drew back scores of lay people from thediaspora who have retained aconservative-nationalist outlook since themass nationalist emigration of the1940s. Several prominent returnees became particularly active on behalf of thenational-Catholicism project, such as Stjepo Bartulica. They had contacts to conservative civil society abroad and made use of them during the2013 referendum campaign. Catholic Morality Wars In his 2015 book Doba kontrarevolucije (Theage of counterrevolution), Dragan Markovina republished his regular columns from 2015 and 2016. Their main subject was what he calls thenationalist ‘counterrevolution’, aprocess in which thevestiges of liberal, progressive, civic and anti-fascist legacies have been attacked and dissolved in anew Croat political setting. His account of theabovementioned ‘turn to theright’ mostly relates to memory wars. Yet he recounts that even 306 central european culture wars: beyond post-communism and populism before theliberal-conservative consensus gave way and memory wars broke out, arightist ‘street’ movement started in 2013 with thesamesex marriage referendum. In his view, this successful referendum was thefirst event of many through which ‘therightist front sought to shake thecurrent government and to create an atmosphere of hate and of alatent civic fear in thesociety’ (Markovina 2017: 50). Thesuccess of thereferendum was indeed awatershed. Theyears 2010–13 were also aperiod in which acomplex and professionalized conservative civil society established itself in Croatia, often in cooperation with American, German and Polish conservative circles. Themost prominent of theconservative organizations is theabovementioned UIO. It was founded in March 2013, just weeks before thepetition campaign started. Thefocus on same-sex marriages was surprising: There was no immediate project to legalize same-sex marriage. But, as Glaudić and Vuković note, thesimultaneity of anti-LGBT backlash and EU accession has been acommon feature in Eastern Europe after European law forced new member states to treat LGBT rights as human rights (2016: 805). Theconservative politics of morality was supported by attempts by theRCC to become politically relevant again. TheRCC intervened both as an actor during mobilizations but also as asource of conservative values and framings. Cardinal Božanić framed themarriage referendum as a‘paramount civilizational question’ and aquestion of the‘future of theCroatian nation’ and its ‘future generations’. Notably, he expressed his support for themarriage referendum in Vukovar, explicitly establishing alink between conservative values and the‘defence’ of and ‘responsibility towards thehomeland’ (quoted in Trošt and Slootmaeckers 2016: 163). In turn, thenational-Catholic frame facilitated theright turn in more than one aspect. TheEuropeanization process led to acertain resentment against foreign cultural influence and against thedemographic pull of theEuropean Union: Since 2013, as many as 230,000 mainly young people used their new EU passports to leave en masse to find work abroad (Draženović et al. 2018: 431). Catholic conservative discourse appears as both amoralist answer to thedemographic malaise and as atraditionalist alternative to Euro-Atlanticist liberal themoment after: culture wars in apolarized croatia 307 hegemony. By defending ‘traditional values’, theChurch claimed to defend thenational corpus from liberal ‘moral corruption’ and from depopulation, and it also highlighted its role as anational institution. TheChurch has further embodied this role in thepolitics of memory. It is very present at all newer commemoration sites, especially at Bleiburg and Vukovar. Perak has calculated that RCC representatives hold thelongest speeches; Cardinal Bozanić himself has been among themost frequent speakers at commemorations. Consequently, amix of religious-nationalist language has dominated at thenewer commemoration sites, framing thevictims as apatriotic sacrifice on the‘altar of thehomeland’ (Perak 2019: 92). Some prominent priests have indeed become an influential part of theright-wing, nationalist cultural front. Vlado Kisić, themedia-active bishop of Sisak, adopted anationalist, anti-Serb rhetoric; fuelled theanti-Cyrillic protests in Vukovar; gave space to thenationalist singer Thompson; criticized theSDP government and even indirectly intervened against aleft-wing coalition project.27 Such political activism has led to rifts within theChurch. While most clerics may be nationalist or at least conformist in orientation, asmall critical group has become very vocal. They include autonomous theologians, feminist nuns and liberal priests. Themost prominent among them is aCroatian Argentine, Drago Pilsel. He grew up as aright-wing, nationalist militant in Argentina, volunteered to fight in theHomeland War in 1990 but grew disillusioned. He eventually turned his back on his nationalist past and adopted resolutely critical and liberal positions (Perica 2016: 24). In his autobiographical text called Argentinski roman (An Argentine Novel), he described his conversion from Ustashism to anti-fascism, criticized ‘theBleiburg myth’ and took acritical stance against what he calls Croatia’s ‘clerical nationalism’ (Pilsel 2013). Some resistance notwithstanding, theRCC’s activism in themorality wars has helped it to regain political relevance. Making use of its massive infrastructure, institutional privileges and large resources, 27 Hedl, D., ‘Croatian Church Urges Right‑Wing Election Win’, Balkan Insight, August 23, 2016 https://balka‑ ninsight.com/2016/08/23/croatian‑church‑urges‑right‑wing‑election‑win‑08‑22‑2016/ (accessed June 30, 2021). [Document text truncated for crawler view.]