Think back to late June and early July. The French far right was favored to win a snap parliamentary election. Trumpist judges in the United States were conveniently resolving the legal woes of the former president, who seemed to be gliding to victory after President Joe Biden’s disastrous debate performance. And while Britain was getting a Labor government, a new anti-immigration party led by the chief Brexiteer, Nigel Farage, had made unprecedented gains. Faced with it all, pundits warned that a wave of populist, “anti-incumbency” rage was sweeping across the world’s democracies.

The commentariat’s bleak outlook should since have been tempered by new sources of political hope. Not only is there little evidence of a “populist wave” -- a metaphor that conjures images of far-right parties inevitably rising to power in many countries -- but recent experience suggests workable strategies for countering such forces.

One lesson from the past few months might sound like a truism: All parties that value democracy must unite to face down anti-democratic threats. This is what happened in France, to many pundits’ surprise. Left-wing parties formed the New Popular Front, evoking memories of the fight against fascism in the 1930s, when the socialist leader Leon Blum led a coalition of Communists, socialists, and liberals to defend the republic.

After President Emmanuel Macron’s surprise decision to dissolve the National Assembly, the left got creative, while Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally was caught flat-footed. But more to the point, the New Popular Front did not merely appeal to abstract democratic values; it also repeatedly called attention to the far right’s pro-business plans, making clear that the National Rally is not the pro-worker party that it claims to be.

A second lesson comes from the US, where few anticipated the enthusiasm and outpouring of joy that would greet the new Democratic ticket. Vice President Kamala Harris, an incumbent, has masterfully presented herself as a representative of change, in contrast to both former US President Donald Trump and the sitting president, Biden. Her pick for vice president, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, has delighted many with his characterization of the Republican ticket, particularly Trump’s vice-presidential pick, JD Vance, as “weird.” Finally, it seems, Democrats play the kind of rhetorical hardball that the right always has.

Of course, self-declared centrists preaching civil discourse are less pleased. They are reminding Democrats that Hillary Clinton’s comments about “deplorables” came to haunt her 2016 campaign. Yet to condemn the “weird” label as childish name-calling misses the point. In the fight against far-right populism, this particular epithet can be especially effective.

After all, in claiming to speak for “the real people” or the “the silent majority,” far-right populists are presenting themselves as the representatives of normality. In Germany, one of the far-right Alternative fur Deutschland’s slogans is: Deutschland, aber normal. The populists’ supposed base comprises what are always presented as “ordinary people” who are threatened by nefarious elites and dangerous Others. That is how populists incite fear of already-vulnerable minorities, be they refugees or transgender people.

Savvy anti-populists should concentrate their rhetorical fire on populist leaders, rather than on their supporters. Vance is “weird” because he is obsessed with controlling women’s bodies and punishing the childless, and because he appears sympathetic toward monarchists and other assorted alt-right figures. The Republican Party now holds many positions that are far out of step with US political traditions; open admiration for autocrats is an obvious example. One can point all this out without suggesting that Republican voters themselves are weird. The point is to dispute the claim to normality by leaders who are anything but.

The far-right populists who claim to speak for the silent majority in fact represent a loud minority. There is nothing wrong with that as such; plenty of progressive movements started the same way. But movements that pretend to speak for the majority while vilifying everyone else pose a threat to democracy. It is no accident that populists who lose at the ballot box often resort to accusations of fraud. Since they supposedly represent the silent majority, an electoral loss can be attributed only to foul play, usually by “liberal elites” who supposedly somehow silenced the majority.

Anti-populists should recognize that majorities do not in fact support far-right populist forces. The new Labour government’s first few weeks in power have confirmed this salutary insight. The country has experienced its worst riots in more than a decade, as disinformation has fueled racist violence. While being careful not to endorse violence directly, Farage has made it sound like the rioters have legitimate grievances shared by the silent majority. But polls show that only one in three Britons support the broader anti-migration protests, whereas opposition to the riots is overwhelming.

True, the argument “We are more!” -- a slogan coined by anti-populist protesters in Germany -- only goes so far. While the far right falsely claims a monopoly on normality, the truth is that far-right parties are becoming normalized as more center-right politicians copy their rhetoric or enter coalitions with them. A stance focused on defending democracy is necessary, but not sufficient, to counter this trend; one must offer a positive vision, too. That is what the French left and UK Labour both did this summer.

Those canvassing for Harris will be asked on doorsteps what she truly stands for, beyond being an alternative to Trump-Vance weirdness. It is a legitimate question, and one for which anti-populists must provide a good answer.

Jan-Werner Mueller

Jan-Werner Mueller is a professor of politics at Princeton University. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. -- Ed.

(Project Syndicate)