This chapter offers the final remarks. First, it recapitulates that slums and vulnerable neighborhoods’ spatial segregation compels their residents to seek out brokers who can facilitate their access to state resources. Machine parties excel in recruiting brokers to connect with voters in pockets of poverty, with the Peronist Party (PJ) in Argentina, the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) in Mexico, and the Indian National Congress (INC) in India traditionally viewed as classic examples. However, this book challenges the conventional perception of these parties by demonstrating that segregated vulnerability imposes conditions on any party seeking electoral competitiveness in these areas. Specifically, it details how challengers to the PJ, PRI, and INC developed their networks and ultimately disrupted the long-standing dominance of these machine parties. This chapter reviews how the book challenges the notion that some parties are inherently more machine-based than others. Second, the chapter recalls that it is misleading to assume that the disappearance of brokers would necessarily benefit the poor. The root of clientelism and its associated issues lies not in the existence of brokers but in the segregated vulnerability and isolation of these territories – in essence, poverty shapes politics. This perspective reframes the role of brokers as a response to structural conditions rather than a cause of political dysfunction.

The durability of democracy among modern political systems is based on its ability to provide for its own self-enforcement without recourse to outside compulsion (North, Summerhill, and Weingast 2000; Przeworski 1991). Recourse to outside enforcement is always dangerous because loss of self-restraint by that authority raises the dilemma of “who guards the guardians” (Hurwicz 2008), and holds out the possibility of dictatorship.

How did Donald Trump become the preeminent figure in American politics over the past decade, and why has the Democratic Party struggled to extinguish his threat despite his unpopularity and the unpopularity of his policies? The answer lies in an area that liberal political strategists have not focused on and political scientists have neglected: the politics of dominance. While twenty-first-century liberals have focused on offering more attractive policies, illiberal leaders such as Trump have grasped that politics is a dominance competition. “High-dominance” leaders strive to make opinion, embrace us-versus-them framing, double down on provocative statements and positions, stay on the offensive, take risks, and use entertaining, provocative language. “Low-dominance” leaders study polls and tell voters what they think they want to hear, fear “othering” opponents, walk back or qualify controversial statements, play defense, abhor risk, and use bromidic language. Restoring the dominance advantage the Democrats enjoyed at times during the twentieth century is a key to defeating Trumpism.

Whether old or new, democracies are fragile. There are no guarantees that they will last. Why? Part of the answer is that democracy is an inherently unfinished project. There is always more political work to do. The institutions that define democratic life, such as a robust civil society, political parties that structure public opinion and voting behavior, and free, fair, and competitive elections, moreover, are just as available to authoritarians, as to democrats. Finally, democracies operate in an international system that supports the spread of dictatorship, as well as democracy.

The rise of the far-right is a global phenomenon connected with the erosion of liberal democracy, especially in Europe and North America. It is not surprising that scholars are paying increasing attention to the ideas defended by the far-right and the factors that help to explain its electoral support. However, most research tends to focus on individual countries or regions, neglecting cross-regional perspectives crucial for understanding the diffusion of far-right ideas and political strategies. To fill this void, this contribution delves into the Foro Madrid, a novel transnational advocacy network primarily composed of far-right political entities. Spearheaded by VOX, a Spanish populist radical right party, the Foro Madrid seeks to forge an alliance between Europe and Latin America to counterbalance perceived leftist influences. By analyzing the Foro Madrid’s rhetoric and strategies, the chapter aims to demonstrate a deliberate dissemination of far-right ideas from north to south. The empirical findings shed light on this diffusion process and its potential ramifications for liberal democracy. Moreover, the chapter reflects on the implications of this dissemination, contemplating its impact on liberal democratic norms and structures.

Southeast Asia seems locked endlessly in a boom-and-bust cycle of democratizing, then regressing, then democratizing again. This review of the history of democracy and autocracy in Southeast Asia underscores three themes. First, Southeast Asia reminds us that support for democracy is always contingent. The chapter shows how readily factors such as political polarization and the failure of democracy to deliver on its promises can produce receptive audiences, if not full-on partners, for aspiring autocrats. Second, the chapter explore the ways in which institutions can keep autocratic sympathizers in the wings or in the game, and how institutional reforms, particularly those that seek greater political openness and broader empowerment, can, under some circumstances, stoke political divisions and provide fodder for these reactionary forces. Importantly, the chapter suggests, formal liberalization may elevate antidemocratic impulses, in ways that should by now be anticipated (by scholars, democracy promoters, policymakers). Finally, it is noted how seldom pro-democracy forces, even when present and active, command center-stage – though when they do, their influence can be powerful.

The introduction explains the book’s argument that individuals impacted by the repercussions of interstate disputes dealt with by the Court should and can be further integrated into its procedure and considered in its legal reasoning. Through the lens of social idealism, it explains how the Court’s effectiveness and legitimacy may be compromised due to its reluctant approach towards individuals. It also clarifies the method, methodology, scope, and structure of the book.

On June 27, 1973, Juan María Bordaberry, the democratically elected president of Uruguay, dissolved the general assembly and remained in office, sharing executive power with the military command. Uruguayans mention this date when asked when was the last coup d’état in their country. However, political and social actors have long disagreed over the exact meaning of this event and few would now reject that it was just one, albeit final and dramatic, step in a relatively long path toward authoritarianism. Things were different after that date in terms of state institutions as well as freedoms and rights for the citizenry, but many analysts have shown that most of these changes were in the making since at least 1968, when Jorge Pacheco Areco took power and governed under repressive measures of exception. A more recent body of literature has gone further back in time to show the importance of previous steps that aligned national politics with the polarized order of the Cold War. This chapter aims at offering a plausible narrative of what happened in the fifteen years before the date of the coup, combining basic historical facts with the changing interpretations that placed and displaced meaning and importance among them.

The September 11, 1973 coup that overthrew Salvador Allende’s Unidad Popular government signaled the end of a radical political experiment, a “democratic road to socialism.” In its 1,000 days in power, Allende’s coalition state instituted a series of substantial political and economic changes, including the socialization of industries, agrarian reform, and the redistribution of wealth and authority. Unidad Popular faced fierce challenges from an increasingly mobilized opposition, who mounted campaigns in congress and in public space that fomented a climate of crisis in which the military might intervene. It also faced pressures from its own supporters, who occupied factories, lands, and city spaces in an effort to convince the state to radicalize the pace of change. Ruthless military intervention sought to “turn back” the political gains of the twentieth century that had reached their apex under Allende, and the military regime headed by Augusto Pinochet turned again and again to state-sponsored terror to entrench a “foundational project” that couple political authoritarianism with a neoliberal economy.

A pragmatic approach to international human rights law involves discussing its premises, principles like human dignity, liberty, equality, and solidarity, and structural principles such as democracy, pluralism, and the rule of law. The chapter also examines the conditions, matters, and actors involved in the discussion. It explores how these principles are applied in practice and the challenges faced in their implementation. The chapter emphasizes the importance of a pragmatic approach that considers the practical realities of applying human rights principles in different contexts. It also discusses the role of various actors, including states, international organizations, and civil society, in promoting and protecting human rights.

Corporatism refers to the tradition of constitutional theories that argue that self-organized bodies, such as universities, churches, or labour unions, are independent and important components of a constitutional order. While in the twentieth-century corporatism became associated primarily with economic actors, a central question in corporatist theory was the broader constitutional status of non-state associations and organizations that had their own political powers to govern their members and engage in quasi-legislative activity. In arguing for the independent legitimacy of such diverse corporate actors, proponents of corporatism were united in criticizing more liberal visions of constitutionalism for its abstraction and formalism. Many corporatist theorists thus advocated a sort of societal constitutionalism, where constitutional norms are embodied in diverse institutions that are more proximate to individuals than the state – ranging from major professional and economic associations to a variety of civil society groups. This chapter analyses corporatism both as a tradition in constitutional theory and as an empirical phenomenon that arose in the interwar and post-war periods. It argues that corporatist ideas can contribute to a theory of democratic constitutionalism that emphasizes the importance of organized collective power, and not just the problem of regulating state coercion or distributing formal rights.

Guarantor institutions (such as electoral commissions and anti-corruption watchdogs, which supposedly comprise the so-called ‘fourth’ or ‘integrity’ branch of the state) are increasingly of interest to constitutional scholars. In a given political context, a guarantor institution is a tailor-made constitutional institution, vested with material as well as expressive capacities, whose function is to provide a credible and enduring guarantee to a specific non-self-enforcing constitutional norm (or any aspect thereof). Arguing that guarantor institutions are more trustee-like than agent-like in character, this chapter defends the claim that the design of any guarantor institutions should seek to ensure that it has: (i) sufficient expertise and capacity to perform its functions effectively; (ii) sufficient independence from political, economic, or social actors with an interest in frustrating the relevant norm it is meant to guarantee; and (iii) sufficient accountability to bodies with an interest in upholding the relevant norm.

This chapter explores the nature of the legislature and its relationship to constitutional government, focusing in particular on the importance of legislative agency and the dynamics that frame its exercise. The chapter begins by reflecting on the objects of legislative action, arguing that authorising a legislative assembly to legislate changes who legislates but not what it is to legislate. The object of legislative deliberation and action should be the common good and securing this end requires agency. The assembly faces many challenges in exercising agency, which it is structured to overcome, partly by way of its relationship to government, a relationship that goes well beyond acts of legislation. The relationship between legislature and government shapes the character of a constitutional order and bears on the relationship between legislature and the people. The legislature’s duty is to represent the people, which makes self-government possible. The legislature should deliberate and act for the people and be accountable to the people, with legislative deliberation taking its place in a wider public conversation. The legislature’s capacity for agency informs how legislative acts should be understood to change the law and helps explain the moral importance of legislative freedom and the limits on that freedom.

Elections are central to the institutional life of actually existing democracies. Though the presence of elections is not a sufficient condition for a society to be considered democratic, it would seem to be at least a necessary condition. Given this fact, it is surprising to note that the question of elections has only been dealt with in a piecemeal way by political philosophers. A research agenda placing elections at the centre of the concern of political philosophers would have to focus on (at least) the following questions. First, are elections the best way in which to instantiate the democratic principle of the equality of all citizens, and if not, what institutional complements should accompany them? Second, which among the very many electoral systems that have been proposed by theorists of elections and attempted in actually existing democracies is best? Third, who should receive the democratic franchise, and are the exclusions that are practiced (along lines of age, residency, citizenship status, and so on) in many societies justified? And fourth, should we seriously consider other methods, such as sortition, to choose our political representatives? These, and many other questions besides, would be at the centre of a research agenda focussed on elections.

The chapter recharacterises the founding instrument of international organisations as constitutions. They function as a legal basis for the organisation, they contain provisions about the mission of the organisation, about the organs/bodies and their competences, and regulate the relationship between the organisation and those who are legally subjected to it. It traces two waves of theories which have espoused different conceptions of constitution: The first wave revolved around the “small c-constitution” in the more neutral sense. The second wave postulated constitutions “with a capital C” that enshrine the constitutionalist trinity: rule of law, human rights, and democracy. In the current constellation of a global shift of power and ideology, a third theory for constitutions of international organisations, more responsive to the global social question and to the demands of the global south, is emerging. This third theory deserves to be pulled out into the light and should be fleshed out further. It should, on the one hand, not fall back on the small-c constitution and, on the other hand, take on board new principles, notably social transnational solidarity and contestatory democracy. This intellectual contribution can provide a basis for responses to the current pushbacks against international organisations.

This chapter provides an overview of the state of the art in constitutional and political theory with regard to the topic of central banks. Central banking, I show, is a highly political domain of policy making that raises thorny and under explored normative questions. I challenge accounts of central banking as involving limited discretion and distributional choices in the pursuit of low inflation, as well as the narrow range of normative questions that such accounts raise. I then ask what to make of central bankers’ political power from a normative perspective. As I argue, some delegation of important decisions to unelected officials is almost unavoidable, often desirable and by itself not undemocratic. I conclude by explaining that we should nonetheless be reluctant to allow for extensive central bank discretion by highlighting six crucial issues that are currently not sufficiently understood: the central bank’s actual level of autonomy from governments, the effectiveness of accountability mechanisms, the effects of depoliticizing money on the broader political system, the effects of democratic insulation on the effectiveness of central banks, the specific practices of deliberation within central banks and the scope for coordination with elected government.

What does it mean to treat people as equals when the legacies of feudalism, religious persecution, authoritarian, paternalistic and oligarchic government have shaped the landscape within which we must construct something better? This question has come to dominate much constitutional practice as well as philosophical inquiry in the past 50 years. The combination of Second Wave Feminism with the continuing struggle for racial equality in the 1970s brought into sharp relief the variety of ways in which people can be treated unequally, while respecting the formalities of constitutional government. In the first part of this chapter, I focus on efforts to reframe the theory and practice of constitutional equality in light of demands for sexual and racial equality. I then show that analytic philosophy has also come to recognise the various non-reducible dimensions of equality in ways that reinforce the claims of critical legal theory, even as philosophers highlight their disconcerting consequences. If equality has multiple irreducible dimensions, conflicts between the legitimate demands of equality are unavoidable features of law and politics, even in the best possible world, and are likely to be particularly painful when set against a background of historical injustice. The chapter concludes with the challenges to democratic constitutionalism, and the scope for constructive responses to those challenges, which the rapprochement between critical and analytic thinking on equality suggests.

How much of a role can human dignity play in constitutional law? It can certainly serve as a foundation of some or all of the rights that a constitution comprises, and it may also figure in the specific content of some of these rights. It may do this explicitly or implicitly – implicitly (as in the US Constitution) when dignity’s role is brought out in legal argument rather than the explicit text. Most rights that protect freedom implicate dignity, but so also do social and economic rights in the constitutions that have them. More generally human dignity may serve as a constitutional value, guiding the interpretation of other provisions: it does this, for example, explicitly in the Constitution of South Africa. It may also underpin the constitutional protection of democracy and the franchise, the rule of law, structures of accountability, the importance of citizenship, and the overall orientation of the provisions of the constitution towards respect for the ordinary people of the country that it governs.