The shooting of former US president Donald Trump was the second assassination attempt on a populist political leader this year. Just two months ago, Slovakian Prime Minister Robert Fico was seriously injured after being shot four times at close range, highlighting the danger posed by the resurgence of political violence around the world.
While the attempted assassinations of Trump and Fico have caused many liberals to tone down their rhetoric, such reactions miss the point. The driving force behind the rise of political violence is not criticism of authoritarians, but rather the failure of ostensibly functioning democracies to address accusations of criminality against populist leaders in a timely manner.
Like Trump, Fico was attacked in the midst of an unlikely political comeback, five years after he was forced to step down when his inner circle was implicated in the gruesome murder of investigative journalist Jan Kuciak and his girlfriend.
Regrettably, Slovakia’s pro-democracy parties failed to ensure that Fico was held accountable for his actions. In a remarkable 2022 showdown, Slovakia’s parliament voted against lifting Fico’s immunity from prosecution, preventing the authorities from arresting him on organized-crime charges. A year later, Fico returned to power and resumed his authoritarian agenda.
However, while Slovakia’s liberals have been outraged by the failure to strip Fico of immunity, in the US, the Democratic Party seems to be in denial. Many US liberals attribute the slow pace of the criminal cases against Trump to the inherent sluggishness of the justice system, overlooking the errors that have led to these delays.
Chief among these errors is US President Joe Biden’s appointment of Merrick Garland as attorney general. As early as 2022, Biden was reportedly frustrated with Garland’s reluctance to prosecute Trump for his numerous crimes, privately complaining that Garland was acting more like “a ponderous judge” than an aggressive prosecutor addressing a major threat to the US’ democracy.
However, Biden, adhering to longstanding norms, apparently did not share these concerns with Garland.
The resurgence of political violence should make us rethink these norms. While we might never fully understand the motivations of individual assassins, the spectacle of a major political figure being constantly accused of serious crimes yet evading justice for years creates inevitable social tensions. This is why prosecutors do not publicly label individuals as murderers or rapists without prosecuting them: Failing to act not only allows potentially dangerous criminals to roam free, but also risks stoking public fear and discontent.
In the wake of the attempt on Trump’s life, Fox News and other conservative media outlets repeatedly highlighted Biden’s comments about Trump being “an existential threat to our democracy” as an example of incendiary political rhetoric. The criticism is partly valid: accusations of fostering insurrection or engaging in other criminal activity should be proven in court, not used as fodder for election campaigns. Conversely, if these allegations are unfounded, it is indeed incendiary for Democrats to repeat them.
Other established democracies have demonstrated that former leaders can be held accountable for crimes they committed. Two former French presidents, Jacques Chirac and Nicolas Sarkozy, were charged and convicted of corruption. In Brazil, former president Jair Bolsonaro was barred from running for office just a few months after his supporters stormed the Supreme Court and National Congress in an attempt to oust his successor, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva. One year later, Bolsonaro has already been indicted for money laundering and faces multiple criminal investigations.
Poland provides a particularly useful model for countries grappling with an authoritarian past. Since assuming office in December last year, Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk has taken a bold approach to safeguarding democracy, delivering on his promise to sweep away the corruption of the previous government with an “iron broom.”
For starters, Tusk appointed former ombudsman Adam Bodnar as the country’s chief prosecutor. Unlike Garland, Bodnar did not let misplaced concerns about the optics of prosecuting political opponents deter him from swiftly upholding the rule of law. Bodnar’s office did not wait for parliamentary inquiries to conclude before charging key members of the Law and Justice party with abuse of power, misappropriation of public funds and other felonies.
While Tusk refrains from interfering with Bodnar’s work or the independent courts, which would eventually determine the fate of the accused, he does not shy away from publicly explaining and defending his government’s aggressive prosecutorial efforts.
In numerous speeches and social media posts, Tusk has emphasized that the iron broom is not an end in itself, but rather a necessary step toward national reconciliation.
“That is what reckoning looks like. Zero politics, only substance. And after the reckoning and restitution time will come for reconciliation. Just as I promised,” he posted on X on July 3.
So far, Tusk’s bold approach has put populists on the defensive. Americans should take notice.
As extreme polarization and political violence threaten to undermine the US’ democracy, it is abundantly clear that authoritarian populists must be held accountable in a court of law, not just in the court of public opinion.
Maciej Kisilowski is associate professor of law and strategy at Central European University in Vienna.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
The US Senate’s passage of the 2026 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), which urges Taiwan’s inclusion in the Rim of the Pacific (RIMPAC) exercise and allocates US$1 billion in military aid, marks yet another milestone in Washington’s growing support for Taipei. On paper, it reflects the steadiness of US commitment, but beneath this show of solidarity lies contradiction. While the US Congress builds a stable, bipartisan architecture of deterrence, US President Donald Trump repeatedly undercuts it through erratic decisions and transactional diplomacy. This dissonance not only weakens the US’ credibility abroad — it also fractures public trust within Taiwan. For decades,
In 1976, the Gang of Four was ousted. The Gang of Four was a leftist political group comprising Chinese Communist Party (CCP) members: Jiang Qing (江青), its leading figure and Mao Zedong’s (毛澤東) last wife; Zhang Chunqiao (張春橋); Yao Wenyuan (姚文元); and Wang Hongwen (王洪文). The four wielded supreme power during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), but when Mao died, they were overthrown and charged with crimes against China in what was in essence a political coup of the right against the left. The same type of thing might be happening again as the CCP has expelled nine top generals. Rather than a
Former Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) lawmaker Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) on Saturday won the party’s chairperson election with 65,122 votes, or 50.15 percent of the votes, becoming the second woman in the seat and the first to have switched allegiance from the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) to the KMT. Cheng, running for the top KMT position for the first time, had been termed a “dark horse,” while the biggest contender was former Taipei mayor Hau Lung-bin (郝龍斌), considered by many to represent the party’s establishment elite. Hau also has substantial experience in government and in the KMT. Cheng joined the Wild Lily Student
Taipei stands as one of the safest capital cities the world. Taiwan has exceptionally low crime rates — lower than many European nations — and is one of Asia’s leading democracies, respected for its rule of law and commitment to human rights. It is among the few Asian countries to have given legal effect to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant of Social Economic and Cultural Rights. Yet Taiwan continues to uphold the death penalty. This year, the government has taken a number of regressive steps: Executions have resumed, proposals for harsher prison sentences
RSS