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Times of Tyranny: The Stories Behind

The first entry in the column Times of Tyranny, written by Ben Gordon.

Armed police fire water cannons at protestors in Santiago, Chile. Photography by Ilaria Lipperi.
Armed police fire water cannons at protestors in Santiago, Chile. Photography by Ilaria Lipperi.

'The truth is that the commonest response to violence is one  

of repugnance, and that a significant number of people  

everywhere try to oppose it in whatever way they can’ – 

Amitav Ghosh.  


On the evening of the 11 September 2023, hundreds of Chileans walked along the main  boulevard of their capital city, Santiago, to commemorate fifty years since the murderous  coup d’etat which ousted the old socialist leader, Salvador Allende, marking the beginning of  Augusto Pinochet’s brutal seventeen-year dictatorship. Images of Allende, who killed himself  that day, refusing the option to escape the building and abandon his people, were projected  onto the walls, shifting across the facades to the rhythm of people’s footsteps. Out of a  speaker came the muffled recordings of old speeches. A fragility hung in the air, along with  the soft shimmer of people’s murmuring. Old friends embraced, others moved alone,  accompanied only by their memories. Some danced beneath the remaining embers of  daylight, others cried, tears rolling calmly down their cheeks. All the while, the crowd moved  in slow but assured unison. There was a visceral sense of emotion, though precisely what it was I could not initially place my finger on. It lingered with me for several days after, until I reflected that what I had seen and experienced was the deep longing for a time when there  was hope. That is, there was a nostalgia of hope.  


The gathering offered a brief glimpse into the devastation which occurs when  authoritarianism reaches its full expression. I also saw, on that mellow autumn’s evening, the ordinary people who existed and resisted the regime, and who continue to fight for social  justice today. The stories behind what had previously been, to me, only broader political  history and narrative. 



We live in authoritarian times. After decades of warning about and failing to combat the rise  of far-right politics and populism, the world is now dominated by these ideologies, with left wing and progressive movements struggling to contend with the potent rhetoric and politics of racist aggression, extreme nationalism and hyper-masculinity. 


Left-wing voices are quick (and correct) to point out the similarities in policy and behaviour  of many contemporary governments to the fascist rulers and other dictators of the 20th century. However, today’s authoritarian leaders and their supporters have, somewhat  effectively, managed to laugh off these links as their ‘proof’ of left-wing ‘lunacy’ even as  they openly express anti-democratic sentiment and violent rhetoric, and issue repressive  policies and laws. This polarised debate demonstrates that despite the importance of learning  from our history, relying on this as a central mode of critique is no longer viable (Behr, 2025) and, if anything, gives right-wing voices a strawman argument to stand behind. A quick look  at Elon Musk performing the fascist Roman salute and justifying it by claiming ‘this  “everyone is Hitler” attack is so tired’ is enough to demonstrate this. By endlessly arguing  over how to categorise a certain government or group, we lose touch with the realities of how  people are affected by, reacting to and resisting these political developments, which is  precisely what figures like Musk want. This isn’t to say we should ignore the importance of historical analysis and memory. Rather, our arguments and comparisons must be more personal, compelling and convincing in order to effectively show why these governments and their politics are so dangerous and cannot be underestimated. 


Ruth Ben-Ghiat’s illuminating book, Strongmen (2020), manages this. She explains in  gripping clarity how the last century of global geo-politics has been defined by hyper masculine, authoritarian rule, from the fascist governments of Mussolini and Hitler in the  early 20th century, to the ‘military coup era’ of leaders like Muammar Gadhafi in Libya and  Pinochet in Chile. The 21st century authoritarian differs mainly in that they are initially  elected via a democratic vote. They continue to present themselves as virile, as the saviour of  the nation, and they continue to lay the blame for their country’s issues on migrants and other  minorities. These leaders employ the same anti-democratic tools as their predecessors,  namely repressive propaganda, corruption and violence. Silvio Berlusconi, Vladimir Putin  and Donald Trump are part of this third wave, which has been described as ‘new  authoritarianism’. Rather than revering figures like Trump as unique, her book reveals the clear and well-rehearsed playbook to strongman authoritarianism, which helps us understand  how these figures gain power, maintain it and, eventually lose it.  


The sense of futile, polarised and ineffective political debate is part of a broader tactic of  imposed confusion and distraction which is central to many new authoritarians’ rule, perhaps  seen most explicitly with the Trump presidency, but also with leaders like Putin, who funds  various opposing left-wing groups in order to create a sense of chaos and division in  opposition. Trump’s government purposefully overwhelms the media with a constant barrage  of announcements, outrageous actions and distressing policies (Klein, 2025), creating uproar  and then rapidly moving on to the next issue, preventing one from thinking coherently and  critically and thus diminishing the possibility for democratic response. This also creates an  image of immense power, with Trump presenting himself as an unstoppable force, despite the  fact that many of these orders are being challenged and rejected, institutionally and through popular protest. 


Many of us feel a growing hopelessness about the world, and a sense of profound fragmentation lingers, but there are avenues to challenge this. Shedding light on the  institutional pushback against authoritarians demonstrates their weaknesses. Popular resistance, through demonstrations, collective action and solidarity between marginalized  groups is growing, even if it continues to be overlooked my mainstream media sources. 


In these columns, I will explore the stories and lives behind the chaos imposed by new  authoritarianism from an international, particularly Latin American, perspective. Engaging  with Latin American politics and lives is particularly pertinent given the lack of media  attention from Western and European news outlets (if there is any reportage on this area, it is  almost always related to immigration or other heightened moments of crisis). A year spent  living in the Chilean capital, Santiago, opened my eyes to a more vibrant, active way of  engaging with politics. I met many Argentinians throughout my year and spent some time  there just after the election of Javier Milei, whose brutal destruction of the welfare state has  been viewed as a blueprint by Musk and co. To begin this series, however, my first column  will take us to Italy, an important starting point for any examination of authoritarianism. Today, Giorgia Meloni’s neo-fascist government maintains direct links to Mussolini’s fascist  party, and operated in coalition with Berlusconi until his death in 2023. There is an element  of personal connection with all of these countries. My English-Italian background and the  annual visits to my mother’s family means the country is one which I am inextricably tied to,  though simultaneously still a stranger. Teetering on the edge of belonging, of knowing, and  yet at once detached from the intricacies of a life there. These columns are therefore as much an exploration and learning process for me as I hope they will be for the reader. 

 

Each week I will explore a specific example of the impacts of new authoritarianism in these  countries, primarily through interviews with friends living there, but also through related  books and films. While these columns do reiterate the domination and irrefutable success of  ‘strongman’ politics, shedding light on the struggles facing people across the world, they also  speak to a politics of hope. From the roadside hamlets tucked away in the Andes, to the  metropolises of Santiago, Rome and beyond, people are constantly resisting, surviving and  fighting back. Engaging with these small pockets of light in an increasingly dark world can perhaps help us to drag that elusive ‘nostalgia of hope’ into the present. Sharing our stories 

with one another is an important first step towards forging wider and more powerful lines of  solidarity. 


References 

Behr, Rafael (2025). In the Musk Revolution, Lessons from the 20th Century will be Deleted.  Guardian. (Available online:  

Ben-Ghiat, R. (2020). Strongmen. [S.I.]: W. W. Norton & Company. 

Klein, Ezra. (2025). Don’t Believe Him. New York Times. (Available online: https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/02/opinion/ezra-klein-podcast-trump-column-read.html)


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