Mehdi Hasan cuts through the fatalism that often paralyzes opposition to right-wing nationalism by arguing that the far right's greatest strength—its ability to claim the mantle of 'the people'—is also its fatal flaw. In a piece that refuses to treat authoritarianism as an unstoppable tide, Hasan offers a forensic look at how movements in Poland, Hungary, and the United States have successfully weaponized the contradictions of populist regimes. This is not a theoretical exercise; it is a tactical manual for a moment when the political center has collapsed, and the only viable path forward is to expose the hollowness of the nationalist project from within.
Turning Strengths Into Weaknesses
Hasan begins by dismantling the myth that the far right operates with a coherent, master-planned ideology. Instead, he argues, these movements are "riven with contradictions," particularly between the economic desperation of their base and the financial interests of their donors. The author posits that populists are often "just making it up as they go along," a vulnerability that opponents can exploit if they stop treating the far right as a monolith and start treating it as a collection of fragile alliances.
The piece finds its most potent evidence in the 2020–2021 women's strike protests in Poland. Hasan details how the Law and Justice government, having packed the courts, attempted to ban abortion even in cases of severe fetal disability. The regime assumed this aligned with the will of "the people," but the reaction was immediate and massive. "Hundreds of thousands of protesters... came out into the streets to protest against the government," Hasan writes, noting that the movement successfully linked abstract judicial concerns to the visceral, material reality of bodily autonomy.
This framing is crucial because it shifts the battlefield from the courtroom to the street, where the government's claim to represent the nation crumbled. The protests were not just about rights; they were a direct rebuttal to the nationalist narrative that women's bodies are merely vessels for state renewal. As Hasan observes, the slogans captured this perfectly: "My body is not a coffin" and "The government is not a pregnancy, it can be removed." The energy generated by these protests did not just fade; it fueled a record turnout in the 2023 election that finally unseated Law and Justice.
The far right fills a vacuum: an absence of challenge to racist and divisive arguments; the holes in the social fabric left by years of failed economic policies; a sense that there's no better option.
Critics might argue that relying on mass protest is a high-risk strategy that can lead to brutal crackdowns without guaranteed political payoff. However, Hasan's analysis suggests that the alternative—ignoring the far right's attempt to define reality—guarantees defeat. The key, he suggests, is to find the specific issue that allows the opposition to "call the far right's bluff."
The Danger of Political Vacuums
The commentary then pivots to a sobering lesson from the 2010s: winning a protest is not the same as winning a revolution. Citing journalist Vincent Bevins and his book If We Burn, Hasan highlights a recurring mistake among activists: the belief that removing a dictator creates a natural order. "There is no such thing as a political vacuum," he quotes Brazilian activists saying. "Either you fill the gap, or someone else will come along and do it for you."
This point is illustrated by the aftermath of the Arab Spring and the 2013 protests in Brazil, where the absence of a structured opposition allowed figures like Jair Bolsonaro to seize the moment. Hasan applies this logic to the current landscape, noting that even in Hungary, where the administration of Viktor Orbán was recently ousted in April 2026, the work is far from over. "For Hungary, the task of repairing the country's damaged institutions... has only just begun," he writes. The victory was real, but the structural damage remains.
This section serves as a necessary corrective to triumphalism. It reminds readers that the far right thrives on the chaos left in the wake of a regime change if no alternative vision is ready to take its place. The argument holds weight because it acknowledges that institutional decay takes years to reverse, and that the emotional high of a protest cannot substitute for the grinding work of policy and coalition-building.
Building Resilience in Defeat
Hasan refuses to treat electoral loss as a permanent state of affairs. He points to the resilience of opposition groups in the United States following the 2020 election, where activists had to "pick themselves up and start again" despite the return of a hostile executive branch. The piece highlights the anti-ICE protests in Minnesota as a case study in patient, cross-movement organizing. These efforts were not spontaneous; they were built on years of work regarding tenants' rights, school meals, and labor conditions at local distribution centers.
Journalist Sarah Jaffe is quoted to underscore the importance of these pre-existing networks: "These organizations are used to working together and responding quickly to crisis; they have built bonds of trust." This is a vital insight for busy readers who may feel overwhelmed by the scale of the challenge. The argument is that the antidote to far-right intimidation is not a single hero, but a web of trusted relationships that can align goals without requiring perfect agreement.
Don't give up, was one frequent piece of advice. But so was something equally important: think about what comes next.
The narrative here is one of endurance. It suggests that the most effective opposition is local, grounded in material needs, and capable of operating even when the national political climate is hostile. This approach bypasses the paralysis of waiting for a savior and instead focuses on the tangible power of community organization.
Reclaiming the Narrative
The final section of the piece tackles the cultural battle over national identity. Hasan describes how far-right activists in the UK attempted to monopolize patriotism by attaching flags to lampposts, framing the nation as "under invasion." He contrasts this with the response of Hannah White, a venue owner in London who, after being threatened and having her windows smashed, refused to retreat.
White's strategy was not to fight the flag with a counter-flag, but to expand the definition of belonging. "I don't want to be angry against people who are feeling like they want to celebrate their flag," she said. "It's just, how do we celebrate everyone?" This refusal to engage in bitterness, while maintaining a firm stance against intimidation, proved powerful. The community rallied to repair the damage, demonstrating that the far right's narrative of division is not inevitable.
This anecdote is a microcosm of Hasan's broader thesis: the far right's power relies on the belief that their version of the nation is the only one possible. By creating inclusive spaces and refusing to be silenced, ordinary citizens can shatter that illusion. The piece concludes that while the work is difficult, "do we have any other choice?" is a rhetorical question with a clear answer.
Bottom Line
Mehdi Hasan's strongest contribution is the strategic shift from viewing the far right as an invincible force to seeing it as a fragile coalition riddled with internal contradictions. The piece's greatest vulnerability lies in its reliance on specific historical moments that required unique conditions to succeed, which may not be easily replicable in every context. However, the core takeaway remains urgent: the opposition must stop waiting for a perfect plan and start building the local, material, and cultural infrastructure necessary to fill the political vacuum before the far right does. "