Consider Viktor Orbán’s transformation in Hungary. Once celebrated as a liberal democrat who challenged communist rule, Orbán now controls 90% of the Hungarian media and has systematically packed the country’s constitutional court. His trajectory is now widely recognised as a textbook case of democratic backsliding.
Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan was initially praised for showing that democracy and Islamic governance could coexist. In early reforms, he lifted millions from poverty by challenging Turkey’s secular establishment – a feat that required exceptional confidence and a bold vision. Now, a decade on, Erdoğan has turned Turkey into what political scientists call a competitive authoritarian regime.
In the US, Donald Trump rose to power promising to “drain the swamp”. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro campaigned as an anti-corruption crusader who would restore the country’s moral foundations. Both have since weaponised democratic institutions to consolidate their own power.
Part of this shift is a psychological process we term the hubris arc. This sees a visionary leader become increasingly myopic once in office. Their early successes bolster their belief in their transformative capabilities, which gradually diminishes their capacity for self-criticism.
The visionary stage typically coincides with systemic failure. When established institutions prove inadequate for addressing public grievances, it provides fertile ground for leaders with exceptional self-confidence to emerge. These outsiders succeed precisely because they possess the psychological conviction that they can challenge entrenched systems and mobilise mass support through bold, unconventional approaches.
Such leaders excel at crafting compelling narratives that enable them to to transform public frustration into electoral momentum. They offer simplified solutions to complex problems, providing certainty where establishment politicians offer only incrementalism and compromise.
Losing perspective
But as visionary capacity increases, so too does myopia. Seeing a singular path with exceptional clarity necessitates narrowing one’s perceptual field.
These leaders initially succeed because their heightened focus cuts through the paralysis of nuanced thinking. But they quickly reach an inflection point where they face a fundamental choice: accept institutional constraints as necessary feedback mechanisms or redefine them as obstacles to their vision.
Those who maintain a productive vision actively build systems for honest feedback. They allow formal channels for dissent to continue and construct diverse advisory teams.
Where strong democratic institutions endure – independent media, empowered legislatures, autonomous courts – leaders must continue negotiating and compromising. This tends to keep their confidence grounded. Some leaders successfully work within these constraints, which proves that the descent into myopia is actually more a reflection of institutional weakness than psychological destiny.
Where institutions lack strength or leaders resist self-discipline, electoral success may embolden rather than restrain authoritarian tendencies. As leaders become increasingly convinced of their transformative vision, their ability to perceive alternatives diminishes.
This psychological narrowing manifests in predictable behaviours, notably eliminating dissenting voices. With every election victory, Orbán has replaced independent-minded allies with loyalists. Trump’s first presidency featured constant turnover among advisers who challenged him. His second is populated by people who can be trusted to toe the line.
Myopic decline follows when hubris reaches saturation. Once leaders systematically eliminate feedback mechanisms, they lose all capacity for self-correction. As their ability to process contradictory information deteriorates, they may increasingly conflate personal power with national interest.
This conflation appears most pronounced in cases where leaders have systematically weakened independent media and judicial oversight.
When leaders achieve complete institutional capture, this self-conception becomes institutionalised. Orbán’s declaration, “We have replaced a shipwrecked liberal democracy with a 21st-century Christian democracy,” reveals how personal vision becomes indistinguishable from national transformation.
Institutional capture occurs through different methods but serves similar purposes. Orbán’s control of the media and courts means he has created parallel institutions that exist solely to validate his vision. Erdoğan used emergency powers after a 2016 coup attempt to instigate mass purges.
In both cases, motivated reasoning becomes institutionalised: leaders come to control the institutions that usually determine what information is legitimate and enable forms of dissent.
The endpoint is a transformation in which opposition becomes an existential threat to the nation. When Orbán positions himself as defender of “illiberal democracy” against EU values, or when Erdoğan arrests his rivals, they frame dissent as treason.
Opposition is a threat not just to their power but to the nation’s essence. Maximum vision has produced maximum blindness. Institutions have been redesigned to perpetuate rather than puncture the delusion.
Resisting the decline
The robustness of democratic institutions is decisive in determining whether hubristic tendencies can be contained within democratic bounds or whether they culminate in authoritarian consolidation.
Both Orbán and Erdoğan leveraged initial electoral mandates to systematically capture state institutions. Their hubris evolved from a tool for challenging establishments into a self-reinforcing system in which the regime’s vast sway over state institutions eliminated feedback mechanisms.
Bolsonaro’s slide toward authoritarianism – denying COVID science, attacking electoral systems, attempting to overturn his 2022 defeat – triggered immediate institutional pushback. Unlike Hungary or Turkey, where courts and civil society gradually bent to executive pressure, Brazilian institutions held firm.
Bolsonaro’s trajectory from populist outsider to authoritarian to electoral defeat and institutional rejection suggests that robust federal structures and an independent judiciary can function as circuit breakers. They can prevent permanent democratic capture.
The American experience presents a third model: democratic resilience under stress. Unlike Hungary and Turkey, where institutional capture succeeded, Trump’s first presidency tested whether these patterns could emerge in a system with deeper democratic roots and stronger institutional checks.
While his efforts to pressure state election officials and weaponise federal agencies followed recognisable authoritarian scripts, American institutions proved more resistant than their Hungarian or Turkish counterparts. Courts blocked key initiatives, state officials refused to “find votes,” and congressional oversight continued despite partisan pressures.
Yet even this institutional resistance came under severe strain, suggesting that democratic durability may depend more on specific design features and timing than general democratic culture.
The Trump stress test has revealed vulnerabilities. The erosion of democratic norms – when parties prioritise loyalty over constitutional obligations – creates openings for future exploitation.
The second Trump term could systematically target the weaknesses identified during his first: expanded emergency powers, strategic appointments to undermine the administrative state, and novel statutory interpretations to bypass Congress. The critical question is whether American institutions retain sufficient strength to again disrupt Trump’s trajectory.
The hubris arc appears inherent in populist psychology, underscoring why constitutional constraints and institutional checks are indispensable. Democracies survive not by finding perfect leaders but by constraining imperfect ones.
Trang Chu, Associate Fellow, Saïd Business School, University of Oxford and Tim Morris, Emeritus Professor, Saïd Business School, University of Oxford
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.