Authoritarianism, 21st-century style

Slovak journalists are frightened for the future, but would you notice?

As readers of this Substack probably know by now, I’ve spent 2024 trying to look for the good. That’s why I’ve been travelling the globe looking for best practice for my next book, ‘Why the World Does It Better’. Two of my most recent marvels were Costa Rica, where they’ve embraced environmental protection (in their case reforestation) in a way that promotes economic growth. In Taiwan, I saw resilience - and an amazing health service that promises to match patients with specialists in an instant.

Sometimes on my travels, however, I’m required to confront the negative. I was in Bratislava last week ostensibly to do an event at the Goethe Institute on my last two German books - I love the fact that ‘Why the Germans’ has been published in Slovak. Altogether now... Prečo to Nemci robia lepšie

This trip came barely a month after the attempted assassination of Robert Fico. I had done a lot of broadcasting and commentary around the time of that shocking event, but it was from afar. So I was keen to touch base with politicians, analysts, NGOs and some from the cultural world. And the situation is alarming.

When I was last in Slovakia, in August 2023, doing a BBC radio documentary, it seemed to me clear that a) Fico would return as prime minister, b) he would ensure he was exonerated from ongoing prosecutions and c) he would exact revenge on his critics. I was more outspoken than others, but sadly my predictions turned out to be largely correct. All these things happened, and quickly. While in opposition, Fico learned a key lesson from his mentor and neighbour, Viktor Orban in Hungary. Once you get back into office, do whatever you can to ensure you stay there. Go after the other power structures.

Fico and his allies have used the turmoil since the May 15 shooting to mount an assault on the judiciary and media, blaming the liberal opposition for the attempt on his life.

Even before the shooting, ministers habitually accused journalists of fomenting unrest, describing them as ‘enemies’. Taking a leaf out of Putin’s book, they are using parliamentary procedure to emasculate criticism. The public broadcaster, RTVS, will now come under a new board of nine. Five of them will be chosen by parliament, where Fico has a majority, and four will be directly chosen by the Minister of Culture, Martina Šimkovičová. As a result, it will become entirely pliant.

Šimkovičová really is something. She has closed down the Kunsthalle, a museum, for ‘putting the future of children in Slovakia in jeopardy’. That is a euphemism for doing anything remotely favourable about LGBT rights. She has accused journalists at RTVS of ‘political activism’, insisting that the new oversight board would ‘correct a lack of objectivity’.

She is one of two members of the three-party coalition cabinet from the far-right Slovak National Party. She came to prominence when she was fired as a presenter at the independent TV station Markíza in 2015 for mocking Syrian refugees on her Facebook page. She used the notoriety to establish herself as a star of xenophobic, anti-vax, homophobic and pro-Russian social media. She also helped to launch an ultra-nationalist internet TV station called Slovan. It is salutary to watch some of its output.

Šimkovičová is getting her own back on Markíza. The station, which has a bigger audience than RTVS, is owned by one of Czechia’s largest companies PPF. It has considerable business interests in Slovakia and the station’s management already appears to be doing Fico’s bidding. Michal Kovacic, host of a popular Sunday politics show was recently removed after accusing management of the ‘Orbanisation’ of media.

None of this is particularly new. Slovakia has long been a deeply divided society. Fico was brought down in 2018 after the murder of Jan Kuciak, a well-known investigative journalist, and his fiancée, Martina Kušnírová, by contract killers.

When I visited the offices of Dennik.N, one of the main liberal newspapers and one of those accused of a lack of patriotism and objectivity, I noticed that its nameplate had disappeared - for the protection of the staff. I was told that security had been stepped up for its key reporters. The same goes for other journalists at other outlets.

Along with this sense of foreboding come the various claims and counter-claims about what actually happened to Fico. Like any rational person (and unlike populists), I almost never listen to, let alone buy into, conspiracy theories. But, for what it’s worth, in parts of Slovak society they are doing the rounds. If the prime minister was shot by a 9mm bullet, how could he have survived? How come one minute he was at death’s door, but within a couple of weeks he was broadcasting a video (blaming liberals for the shooting)? And, inevitably, what about the Russians? ‘We’re not buying the official versions,’ one opposition figure told me, mentioning in the same breath JFK and the Pope. ‘We don’t know what’s going on. But nobody wants to air their doubts in public.’

The gunman, Juraj Cintula, had some quirky politics. He had been attacking the government in a series of posts, but his views seemed to range between far-left and far-right. He was known to be close to a para-military network called Slovenskí Branci (Slovak Conscripts), which according to some investigations has links to Russian special forces. Then you get the counter-question: why would Putin want to harm a leader who had just carried out a 180 degree turn for his country away from support for Ukraine and into the arms of the Kremlin?

On the surface, life appears little changed. Bratislava, a beautiful, compact city I’ve visited many times (and where my father was born), was packed with locals and tourists enjoying the bars and restaurants in last week’s mid-summer sunshine. You could, if you ignored the politics, have a great time.

As I wrote way back in 2009 in my book, ‘Freedom for Sale’, that is the allure of 21st century authoritarians, as distinct from 20th century dictatorships. You can wander through present-day Budapest, even, dare I say it, Moscow (‘war, what war?’), and enjoy the flat whites, the avocado and the sushi. In all of these cities conversations of a certain type take place in hushed tones. Within a few more years, how many more European cities will join them?