This commentary first appeared in The Diplomat magazine.

In March 2025, one of the authors vividly observed hundreds of thousands of people filling downtown Seoul over President Yoon Suk-yeol’s impeachment. Reminiscent of the “candlelight protests” of 2017 but with greater intensity, these rallies began after the short-lived martial law declaration of last December, with some demanding Yoon’s immediate removal from office and others denouncing it as illegitimate. Even after the Constitutional Court’s unanimous decision to impeach him on April 4, rival protests continued through the June 3 snap elections.

Such rallies were hardly unprecedented in South Korea, given its rich history of civic engagement in politics. However, in the context of Yoon’s martial law declaration and subsequent impeachment, the protests illustrated a fragile democracy divided against itself. In fact, Yoon had justified his action as a necessary measure to remove “anti-state forces” in the face of the intensifying political fight with opposition forces, which controlled South Korea’s legislature throughout Yoon’s presidency.

Public opinion polls and election outcomes show how deeply divided the nation has been. A 2022 Pew survey found that 83 percent of South Koreans believed there were strong partisan conflicts, the highest among all 19 countries surveyed. Recent election results reflected such societal and political division. Yoon’s razor-thin 2022 victory over Lee Jae-myung and Lee’s narrow win in the 2025 snap election revealed a nation split down the middle.

In addition, mass protests, largely associated with progressives, have become common for conservatives too and spilled from plazas to online platforms. Politics has turned into “culture wars” and competing claims to be representative of “the people,” provoking moral charges and emotional responses. Polarization now cuts across gender and generational lines beyond political and ideological divisions of the past, standing alongside illiberalism and populism as a core threat to Korean democracy.

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Overview & Contribution:

Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele calls himself the “world’s coolest dictator,” which may be an apt title given his social media savviness, backwards baseball caps, and concerted efforts to undermine democracy. While Bukele has enjoyed widespread popularity for his success in crushing El Salvador’s gangs, this has come at a high cost. Thousands of innocent Salvadorans have been imprisoned without due process as Salvadoran streets become ever more militarized. The “Bukele model” has been emulated by a number of Latin American leaders with authoritarian ambitions, which will likely complicate international efforts to isolate the Salvadoran government. Can Bukele continue to consolidate his personal power and popular support? 

In “Does the Bukele Model Have a Future?” Beatriz Magaloni and Alberto Díaz-Cayeros argue that the Salvadoran state’s apparent strength sits atop an extremely fragile foundation: Bukele’s crime policy has successfully improved physical security for some while failing to deliver social and economic gains for El Salvador’s increasingly vulnerable citizenry. As the country’s economic situation worsens, Bukele’s support will decline, likely increasing his reliance on repression. The article is informed by original interview data, which illustrates how dire the situation for ordinary Salvadorans has become both inside and outside of the country’s notorious prisons. 

The reader comes away somewhat optimistic that Bukele’s authoritarianism cannot remain popular indefinitely. And although El Salvador has largely evaded international pressure, this could change, for example, after the United States’ 2028 elections. At the same time, domestic efforts to push back against Bukele and his anti-democratic legacy will surely be difficult. The authors predict that Bukele will alternate between moments of popularity, episodes of repression, and external challenges.

The Bukele Model and Its Pitfalls:

Bukele is perhaps best known for his war on crime, which followed his unsuccessful attempts to negotiate with and make concessions to gang leaders. Although Bukele took office at a time when homicide rates had declined considerably, crime has sharply declined during his tenure. Yet El Salvador now enjoys the world’s highest incarceration rate by more than double the next highest country. Bukele has consolidated significant executive power, firing Supreme Court justices and pressuring his opponents via armed military and police incursions into the legislature.

The authors conducted interviews with formerly incarcerated Salvadoreans to better understand how the Bukele model has been experienced both inside and outside of prison. Interviewees report that ordinary people are incentivized to provide information (whether true or false) that leads to arrests because of the cash rewards offered. As the country’s economy worsens, these practices have led to a mushrooming of innocent arrests. Although international observers have tended to focus on human rights abuses in El Salvador’s CECOT prison, the conditions in more peripheral prisons are even more harrowing. As the authors report,

Upon entry, detainees are frequently subjected to a violent initiation ritual involving beatings by multiple prison guards…leav[ing] many prisoners with severe physical injuries…once confined…basic human needs such as rest, sanitation, breathable air, food, and water were denied. Some people…reported guards throwing tear gas into their cells and banging repeatedly on cell bars throughout the night…[they] described cells as so overcrowded that they were often forced to sleep in rotations: one half lying on the floors, with their neighbors’ feet pressed against their faces, while the remainder stood waiting for their turn.

A worrying consequence of Bukele’s rise is the diffusion and emulation of his “model” across the hemisphere. For example, Honduras and Ecuador have implemented states of emergency and deployed the military against domestic gangs, citing Bukele as inspiration. Javier Milei’s cabinet has used Bukele’s alleged success as a justification for undermining judicial autonomy in Argentina. Even Costa Rica — one of Latin America’s most stable democracies — built a CECOT-inspired prison and has witnessed growing support for strongman rule as it faces its highest homicide rates on record.

Possible Scenarios:

The authors identify three routes that might characterize El Salvador’s politics in the coming years, none of which are mutually exclusive. A first scenario would involve support for Bukele continuing or increasing. However, given El Salvador’s economic situation, this situation is very unlikely. In places like Singapore and Kuwait, autocrats have enjoyed steady popularity because they have been able to deliver economic prosperity. Yet Bukele lacks foreign investment and world-class infrastructure, as in Singapore, and it lacks the Gulf oil monies that have been showered on Kuwaiti citizens to buy their acquiescence.

A second scenario, which the authors see as more likely, is that Bukele’s popularity declines, leading him to default to more repression and authoritarianism. This parallels Venezuela under Nicholas Maduro, where the collapse of oil prices — which had previously boosted Hugo Chávez’s popularity — coincided with growing corruption and economic precarity. As the country experienced hyperinflation, Maduro clamped down on his opponents and the media while rigging elections.

A third scenario would involve international pressure from democratic countries, such as the US and Brazil. This could at least strengthen Salvadoran opposition forces, but would not likely restore the country’s democracy to pre-Bukele levels. For the time being, much of the international community has minimized or ignored Bukele’s transgressions. For example, Bukele maintains a strong relationship with Donald Trump, and a recent U.S. State Department report downplayed Bukele’s human rights violations. Magaloni and Díaz-Cayeros show how El Salvador exemplifies the tension between genuine public approval — driven by unprecedented reductions in gang violence — and mounting authoritarianism that inspires other Latin American leaders.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

Introduction and Contribution:

Authoritarian regimes are often reluctant to let their citizens leave: 79% of autocracies restrict emigration compared to only 4% of democracies. This reluctance is understandable, as migration deprives rulers of talent, resources, and implied consent to the system. Yet autocracies do change their emigration laws. What are the consequences of these changes? 

In “A Little Lift in the Iron Curtain,” Hans Lueders examines how a 1983 emigration reform in socialist East Germany (German Democratic Republic, GDR) affected crime rates in the country. The reform permitted about 62,500 citizens to exit the GDR over a short period of time — mostly to reunite with their families in West Germany. Lueders asks how this emigration affected crime. This is a natural outcome to consider because the former GDR, like many autocracies, used the emigration system to filter out individuals seen as criminals or  “undesirables.” Unauthorized exit was criminalized, and some citizens committed crimes precisely to signal that they should be allowed to leave.
 

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Figure 1: Consequences of the 1983 Emigration Reform
Note. This figure reports the number of first-time exit visa applications per year (gray line [Eisenfeld 1995, 202]) and annual emigration from the former GDR (black line; data collected by the author). The period after the emigration reform is emphasized.
 

Lueders shows that the effects of emigration following the 1983 reform on criminal activity depended on the type of crime. Ordinary kinds of crime — those not committed for political motifs — declined after the reform. However, border-related crimes increased sharply. This is ostensibly because those “left behind” (i.e., unable to take advantage of the 1983 reforms) resumed lawbreaking in order to pressure the regime to let them out as well. An analysis of petitions submitted to the state supports the idea that emigration raised demand for emigration.

The paper makes important contributions to our knowledge of authoritarianism and migration. For one, it shows how policies enacted to temporarily satisfy domestic or international audiences can backfire, later increasing the state’s burden. Autocrats may behave strategically in the short run, yet their choices can have powerful, unanticipated consequences in the years ahead. Otherwise, “strong” and repressive autocracies like the former GDR may struggle to address migratory pressures and be too inflexible to switch course after negative consequences become apparent. 

Safety Valves and Reform in East Germany:

Social scientists have argued that emigration policy under authoritarianism can serve as a “safety valve,” allowing or forcing the exit of those who threaten the stability of the regime. In addition, requiring citizens to apply for exit visas acts as a “screening mechanism” because applying is politically costly; those who keep applying reveal themselves to be potential troublemakers whose exit ought to be permitted. Lueders provides evidence that the costs of applying for exit visas were indeed high in the former GDR: applicants (and sometimes their families) were intimidated and harassed by secret police, expelled from universities, and demoted or fired. The state also tried to “win over” prospective emigrants, showing them reports about the allegedly dismal living conditions in West Germany or letters from East German refugees begging authorities to return to the GDR.

Importantly, officials considered how emigration would influence the GDR’s stability, looking for those who opposed the country and its socialist vision. Many applicants realized this and thus sought to publicly challenge the regime, for example, by leaving socialist mass organizations or abstaining from voting. Committing crimes thus raised one’s chances of successfully emigrating. East Germans watched peers and family members break the law to force their exit, learning that the system encouraged and rewarded criminality. 

After Germany’s division into two, many East Germans preferred the economic and political freedoms found in democratic West Germany. The government thus grew concerned: most émigrés were young and educated, and their exit undermined the GDR’s claims that it was popular and that socialism was the superior politico-economic system. Accordingly, emigration was criminalized in 1952, and the GDR began erecting physical barriers, culminating in the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961. Emigration plummeted to between 25,000 and 40,000 per year thereafter.

Emigration remained severely limited until the early 1980s, when international pressure — from both West Germany and the Soviet Union — to reform its emigration system began to build. Ultimately, in September 1983, the GDR conceded and recognized the right of all citizens with family abroad to apply for an exit visa. 

After the reform, exit visa applications and departures surged, the largest wave since the Berlin Wall’s construction. Emigration patterns evidenced a clear demographic shift: émigrés were less likely to be retired or to have formerly served in prison, while working-age East Germans made up 75% of emigrants, up from 49%. The state viewed this emigration wave as a welcome opportunity to get rid of criminals and political enemies. However, it underestimated the long-term consequences of offering some citizens a way out.
 

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Table 1: Comparison of Emigrants in 1983 and 1984 (January to June of each year)
 

Data and Findings:

To measure the effects of the 1983 policy on crime, Lueders presents crime data from 1976 to 89. He divides crime into “ordinary,” e.g., against state property or persons, and “political” crimes, e.g., the use of force against state officials, treason, and, importantly, illegal border crossings. Two of Lueders’ key hypotheses for our purposes are that emigration reform led to (1) a decline in ordinary crime, because the GDR effectively removed so-called troublemakers (the safety valve mechanism), and (2) a rise in border crimes, because those left behind were willing to break the law in order to exit (the demand mechanism).

The statistical analysis — consisting of comparing places with varying emigration rates — is consistent with both hypotheses. For the most part, ordinary crime declined after 1983. By contrast, border crime also initially declined, but this pattern dramatically reversed within two years. By 1987, border crimes began to rise significantly in places that had experienced a lot of emigration in the initial wave. Lueders thus provides evidence that in the short run, emigration indeed functioned as a safety valve (i.e., criminals were successfully identified). But thereafter, emigration had severe repercussions: rather than alleviating pressure on the regime, it created even greater demand for emigration — and thus more criminal activity.

A final piece of evidence comes from detailed data on petitions. The GDR encouraged citizens to communicate a range of demands and grievances to state officials, including the desire to emigrate. Lueders shows that in 1984, over 16,000 petitions were written specifically about emigration, which constituted nearly 28% of the total number of exit visa applications. And these petitions for exit visas increased substantially more in areas with above-average emigration during the initial emigration wave, suggesting that greater emigration in one period was associated with greater demand for it in subsequent periods. An understanding of East Germany illustrates how autocrats face a delicate balance between permitting migration and managing its consequences.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

The longer these authoritarian parties are in power, the more they eviscerate democratic institutions. But they are not invincible or irreversible. Incipient authoritarianism has been turned back in countries as diverse as Brazil, Poland, Sri Lanka, and Senegal. The slide away from liberal democracy has been reversed recently in Botswana and Mauritius. An executive coup against democracy was defeated in South Korea. Young people in Bangladesh overthrew a dictator last year in a remarkable upsurge of protest. And the longstanding autocracies in Venezuela and Turkey are looking increasingly desperate and unpopular. These examples bear lessons we must learn and promote if we are to ignite — as we surely can — a new era of democratic progress.

First, we must study what it takes to defeat autocrats at the ballot box. Typically, electoral battles are not a straight contrast between democracy and autocracy. Voters weigh their circumstances of life as well. Fortunately, autocrats have other failings besides their corruption, lawlessness, and abuse of power: sooner or later, they fail to deliver on their material promises. Successful democratic campaigns target the populists’ hypocrisy and address not just people’s political rights but their economic and social needs. 

To defeat autocrats, democratic forces must offer specific, credible plans to meet the core policy challenges of economic growth and distribution, fairness and inclusion, education, health care, infrastructure, public safety, and national security. 

But people everywhere also need a vision of what constitutes a good and just form of government. Here, democracies have dropped the ball in making the case FOR democracy as the best form of government. Decades ago, as they fought dictatorships and then came to power, democracies taught their young people the values, ideas, and history of democracy. But as new democracies stabilized, the existence of a democratic culture came to be assumed, and countries forgot the terrible price they paid under dictatorship — the fear, falsehoods, powerlessness, and repression, the lack of accountability, voice, justice, and human dignity. We can make the practical case for democracy — it performs better over time. But we cannot pin the argument on performance, which may fail at specific points in time.
 

Ultimately, the case for democracy is that being able to speak truth to power, to hold it accountable, and to change those who exercise it is a core element of human dignity and a basic human right. The freedoms to speak, publish, pray, organize, and assemble are inalienable human rights. As are the rights to a fair and impartial trial and to have all citizens be treated equally under the law. It is only democracy — never autocracy — that protects these rights and treats citizens with dignity by investing sovereignty in them, not some self-appointed minority. Liberty and democracy are intertwined.

We must make these points relentlessly, creatively, and convincingly, not just in the schools, at successively higher levels of instruction and deliberation, but through the social media platforms where people live their information lives. Russia, China, Iran, and other autocracies wage extensive propaganda campaigns to trash liberal values and institutions. They portray democracy as lacking in dynamism, capacity, and masculine strength. These arguments are false, offensive, and degrading to the human spirit. But they will not fail of their own accord. They need to be defeated by better, more inspiring arguments and narratives about why people need freedom to thrive, and why societies need democracy to have freedom.

Today, there are four arenas of struggle for the future of freedom, and democrats must prevail in all of them. The core battle is now in the countries that have been sliding back from democracy to autocracy. 

In almost every instance where authoritarian projects have been defeated, it has been through elections. Illiberal populists crave the legitimacy that comes from victory in multiparty elections. But corruption and misrule erode their electoral support. So, they need elections that are competitive enough to validate their claim to rule but rigged enough to minimize the risk of defeat. The pathway to restoring democracy is to seize the electoral opportunity, flood the zone with election workers and observers, and wage an effective campaign so that people who have grown weary of authoritarian abuse can defeat it at the ballot box.

To win, democrats must forge a unified coalition across factional and ideological divides. They must offer concrete policy ideas to improve people’s lives. They need a narrative about what has happened to justice and democracy, and why restoring these will help to make the country great again. A campaign is not a legal brief. It must inspire and excite. It requires strong, compelling leadership. It must engage diverse sections of society, including people who once supported the authoritarian populists but are now disillusioned. Democrats must also express patriotism and show that illiberal populists wave a false flag. Democrats are the truer patriots because they recognize democracy and liberty as pillars of national greatness.

These lessons can help to restore democracy where it has been lost and to secure it in a second arena, when it is under challenge from authoritarian populist parties. But there are two other arenas of struggle in which we must prevail. Globally, democrats cannot let the world’s powerful authoritarian states capture and hollow out the global institutions to defend freedom — the UN Human Rights Council, the international and regional instruments of electoral observation and assistance, and the rules that govern the flows of data and information. Neither can we shrink from the global battle to support democratic values and free flows of information, and to lend technical and financial support to peoples, parties, media, and movements around the world struggling for freedom. 

In the face of isolationist efforts to defund and withdraw from this cause, we must convince democratic publics that we can only secure our own freedom by supporting that of others. A more democratic world will be a safer, fairer, less corrupt, more peaceful, and prosperous world.
 

All of that has been under existential challenge in Ukraine since Russia’s brutal invasion in February of 2022. Resisting aggression is the fourth arena of struggle. There is no more urgent priority than to give the Ukrainian people the weapons, resources, and economic sanctions to defeat Russian aggression. Similarly, we must ensure that Taiwan’s democracy does not suffer the same aggression from the People’s Republic of China. Taiwan must have the weapons, trade, and international dignity it needs to survive. We must preserve the status quo across the strait by making clear that the US and other democracies stand behind the resolve of a free people to chart their own destiny in Taiwan — as we do in Ukraine.

We meet here today just a short distance from the grotesque wall that stood for decades as the dividing line between freedom and tyranny. 36 years ago — almost to this day — the wall was torn down. Few imagined it would happen when it did. But it did because of democratic conviction and resolve. Now, we are in a new cold war with global authoritarianism. The history of Berlin should constantly remind us that freedom is fragile, but it can also be resilient. We must never lose faith in the rightness of our cause and the obligation we bear once again to defend freedom in an hour of peril.

Professor Diamond delivered this speech at the Berlin Freedom Conference on November 10, 2025.