Right-wing populist leaders often sound similar on the campaign trail using anti-elite rhetoric. Yet, once in power, their trajectories in office can diverge sharply. By comparingTürkiye under Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Brazil under Jair Bolsonaro, this blog piece (based on a 2025 Third World Quarterly article) by Gülşen Doğan argues that their durability depends less on their charisma and more on institutional machinery.
“My starting point is that populism is not a regime type, but a thin-centred (or “host”) ideology that typically attaches itself to more comprehensive (‘thicker’) ideology such as nationalism or religious conservatism and takes on its character.”
Gülşen Doğan
Right-wing populism has emerged as one of the most visible political forces of the last decade. This is particularly apparent across parts of the Global South where democratic institutions may be younger and where economic volatility, polarised media environments, and distrust in political institutions have intensified electoral competition.
Studying Right-Wing Populism
This blog post draws on my recent 2025 article on right-wing populism in Türkiye and Brazil (titled Variations in right-wing populism: a comparative study of Türkiye and Brazil, published by Third World Quarterly, 46(9), 1013–1038).
I’m a PhD candidate in Political Science and International Relations at Koç University inTürkiye, and my research examines the intersections of populism, authoritarianism, and migration diplomacy, with a regional focus on Türkiye, Hungary, and Brazil.
I am interested in studying right-wing populism because it is reshaping how democracy works today. Even though elections are still happening, the institutional roles (rules and safeguards) that ensure those elections are fair and truly competitive are being steadily weakened. In my research, I compare Erdoğan’s Türkiye and Bolsonaro’s Brazil as they are often grouped under the same right-wing populist label, but actually diverge in how power is organised and sustained. What I found is that the real source of a populist’s power lies less in the leader’s personality, and more in the political machinery around them.
In these settings, leaders often claim to embody “the people” against corrupt elites, promising to restore national strength. My starting point is that populism is not a regime type, but a thin-centred (or “host”) ideology that typically attaches itself to more comprehensive (‘thicker’) ideology such as nationalism or religious conservatism and takes on its character.
This helps explain why right-wing populism takes different forms across countries: in Türkiye, for example, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) fuses populism with an Islamist-conservative project; whereas in Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro combined it with a moral crusade (family values/evangelical language) and a law-and-order, security-centred agenda.
Right-wing populism is built on these two closely linked elements. First, it often rejects the liberal stance of pluralism and promotes a polarised worldview that casts society as “the good people” versus “the corrupt elite.” When pluralism is dismissed or treated as illegitimate, institutional checks such as courts, media, and civil society are weakened especially when political opponents and social diversity are portrayed as threats rather than legitimate competitors.
However, similar right-wing populism rhetoric does not always produce similar outcomes. I focus on this puzzle because cases that appear to be strikingly similar in their anti-elite rhetoric (with Erdoğan in Türkiye and Brazil under Bolsonaro) can nonetheless diverge sharply once in office.
A paired comparison brings to the surface the organisational foundations of political survival of right-wing governments: the party machinery, welfare delivery, and leverage over state institutions that make it easier to turn electoral wins into a governing project, or harder to do so when constraints bite. The point is not simply what populists say, but how power is assembled and sustained, and how that process can leave elections formally intact even as courts, media, and civil society lose their capacity to limit or constrain executive dominance.
Divergent Paths to Power in Türkiye and Brazil
In Türkiye, Erdoğan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) combined a neoliberal governing agenda with an extensive party-linked system of social assistance. After the post-2018 shift to hyper-presidential courts, universities and much of the media became more closely aligned with the executive. For citizens, this translated into conditional welfare support, mediated through dense partisan networks rather than universal provision. This was alongside a harsher political climate marked by legal pressure on opponents, tighter control of information, and constraints on public protest.
In Brazil, Bolsonaro governed without a deeply rooted party organisation and instead leaned on military and evangelical allies. As elections approached, he repeatedly cast doubt on the electronic voting system and promoted proposals such as printed ballots, intensifying polarisation and institutional conflict. Social policy played a secondary role, some programmes were cut or rebranded, and pandemic-era assistance was insufficient, leaving vulnerable groups more exposed as democratic guardrails came under strain.
It’s Not Just the Leader, It’s the Machine Behind Them
One of the most significant differences between Erdoğan and Bolsonaro was their approach to the fundamental building blocks of political power: the party. While both relied on personal charisma, their organisational strategies were worlds apart.
Erdoğan’s Party Machine
In Türkiye, Erdoğan built his power on the foundation of the Justice and Development Party (AKP), a long-lasting party organisation with local branches, loyal members and resources across the country. The sheer scale is staggering. With over 11 million members, the AKP is a very dominant force in Turkish society. This powerful structure has active youth and women’s branches, a deep grassroots network, and ties to Islamic charities and local business associations. It enabled the party to penetrate society, mobilise mass support, and embed itself in the country’s social fabric. This vast network served as more than just a get-out-the-vote operation. It was a sophisticated distribution channel, linking social services directly to political loyalty. In my article, I describe this as an ‘integral party’ – a party so deeply woven into everyday life that it can reshape society from the ground up.
Bolsonaro’s “Hollow Party”
In sharp contrast, Bolsonaro deprioritised the formal party organisation. He operated through a weak and fragmented party structure, first with the Social Liberal Party (PSL). To compensate for this lack of a disciplined machine, Bolsonaro relied heavily on informal alliances with powerful external groups, particularly military elites and conservative evangelical networks. These groups provided support. However, they were no substitute for a cohesive, nationwide party capable of institutionalising his political project.
This reveals a surprising truth about modern right-wing populism. The real story is less glamorous than the leader’s image. It is about spreadsheets, local branches and who controls the resources. While media attention focuses on the charismatic leader, Erdoğan’s long-term endurance demonstrates that a disciplined, deeply embedded political party is the true key to turning temporary power into a tightly controlled regime.
Welfare Can Be a Weapon of Control
Counter-intuitively, right-wing populist leaders, often associated with fiscal austerity, can strategically deploy social welfare to build and maintain power. The difference between Erdoğan and Bolsonaro lies in how systematically this tool was used.
Türkiye’s Clientelist System
Erdoğan’s AKP implemented wide-ranging social policies, expanding healthcare access through the “green card system” for the uninsured and providing financial assistance to the urban poor. However, this was not a traditional, rights-based welfare state. It was a patronage-based system where benefits were funnelled through AKP-affiliated organisations and religious charities. Help was often given personally and could depend on whether you were seen as close to the ruling party.
This approach created a direct link between state support and political loyalty, turning welfare into a potent tool for control. This system was designed to create dependency rather than universal rights. Support often flowed through party-linked or religious networks, and people knew that political loyalty could affect whether they received help. Instead of building a robust welfare state, these programmes expanded consumption while keeping citizens politically dependent.
Brazil’s Ad-Hoc Approach
Bolsonaro’s government, by contrast, initially sidelined social policy. A significant expansion of welfare only occurred as an emergency response to the COVID-19 crisis. This move was widely seen not as a core governance strategy but as a short-term, “vote-seeking tactic” ahead of an election, rather than a systematic effort to build a dependent constituency.
This comparison reveals a stark truth: for a master populist, social policy isn’t about creating a safety net. Rather, it’s about weaving a net of dependency.
By personalising aid, Erdoğan’s AKP transformed social inclusion into a mechanism of political subordination, turning citizens into clients and welfare from a right of citizenship into a reward for fealty.
Military Alliances Are a Compensation Strategy
The presence of military figures in a civilian government is often interpreted as a sign of authoritarian strength. However, the comparison between Brazil and Türkiye reveals the opposite. A heavy reliance on the military is often a direct consequence of underlying institutional weakness.
In Brazil, Bolsonaro’s government was characterised by filling civilian government posts with military officers. Thousands of military personnel were appointed to civilian government positions. This reliance was so extensive that the number of military ministers in his government surpassed levels seen even during Brazil’s actual military dictatorship (1964-1985). This was not an ideological choice alone; it was a desperate strategy to staff the state, providing crucial “expertise and political loyalty while shielding him from potential impeachment.”
Erdoğan, backed by his powerful AKP, took the opposite path. He was able to systematically capture and assert control over state institutions, including the military. The AKP’s ability to mobilise its civilian members to resist the 2016 coup attempt is a prime example of its independent strength and its capacity to subordinate the armed forces to its political will.
Ultimately, a populist who must borrow the institutional capacity of an external force like the military reveals a fundamental weakness – Erdoğan built his own political army through the AKP. Bolsonaro, constrained by fiscal laws that limited his ability to buy loyalty and lacking a party to staff the state, had to rent an actual army. This difference explains why one regime became entrenched while the other remained electorally volatile.
Taken together, these patterns matter far beyond Türkiye and Brazil. They highlight why some leaders in the Global South (and elsewhere) manage to turn electoral victories into lasting regimes, while others face strong pushback from courts, civil society, or voters.
The Machinery Behind Populist Survival
The endurance of a right-wing populist regime depends less on shared anti-elite rhetoric and more on the unique institutional tools a leader can wield. Erdoğan’s deep, clientelist party machine allowed him to embed his power in Turkish society, his strategic use of welfare created a dependent support base, and his party’s strength allowed him to subordinate the military. Since the 2016 coup attempt, emergency rule and mass purges have been followed by calibrated repression and selective tolerance, keeping electoral openings narrow while pressure on journalists, activists, and mayors persists. Bolsonaro, lacking these tools, relied on fragile, informal alliances that could not guarantee his political survival.
With Brazil heading into a presidential election on 4 October 2026, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is seeking a fourth term, even as election-year vulnerabilities such as the Venezuela crisis and investigations involving his son, risk resurfacing. On the right, Jair Bolsonaro is serving a 27-year-and-three-month sentence, Flávio Bolsonaro has announced a 2026 presidential bid with his father’s endorsement, keeping the movement electorally present through substitution.
This comparison reveals a hard truth: the path from populist firebrand to entrenched autocrat is paved not with slogans, but with institutional steel. These factors determine whether a populist movement remains a transient political phenomenon or consolidates into a durable authoritarian regime.
When we look at other right-wing populist movements – from Argentina to the Philippines – we should not just question what leaders say, but be critical of what kind of party, welfare system, and alliances they are quietly building behind the scenes.
About Gülşen Doğan
Gülşen Doğan is a political science researcher and PhD candidate in Political Science and International Relations at Koç University. Holding a B.A. from Boğaziçi University, she recently worked at MiReKoç (the Migration Research Center at Koç University) on the Horizon Europe–funded BROAD-ER project. Her research spans migration diplomacy, populism, authoritarianism, multilevel governance, and disaster diplomacy, with a regional emphasis on Türkiye, Hungary, and Brazil. Her dissertation compares how right-wing populist incumbents in Türkiye and Hungary use migration narratives for domestic legitimation and bargaining with the EU. Her work has appeared in Third World Quarterly, Politics, Religion & Ideology, and Disasters, alongside policy outreach roles at the Middle East Institute (MEI)’s Türkiye Program and the Istanbul Political Research Institute (IstanPol).
