Abstract
After the EU’s Eastern enlargement of 2004, it became clear that some of the reform in the former candidate countries resembled a Potemkin village: behind a gleaming façade lingered a grimmer reality. Party politics in Central Europe proved to be a case in point. The following article argues that party systems in the region only underwent “Potemkin Europeanisation”—essentially enjoying a “liberal consensus” thanks to a “camouflage effect” of the Europeanisation processes—in 1998–2004. Using case studies of party competition in Poland and Hungary in 1998–2004, it draws broader theoretical conclusions about the persistence of traditional cleavages as organizing principles of party systems in Central Europe, as well as the nature of EU influence on the modus operandi of party politics in candidate countries.
The Puzzle: A Post-Accession Malaise?
After the EU’s Eastern enlargement of 2004, it became clear that some of the reform in the former candidate countries resembled a Potemkin village: behind the gleaming façade presented to outsiders—notably visitors from Brussels—often lingered a grimmer reality. Party politics in Central European states 1 proved to be a case in point: after EU accession, observers noted with some alarm that the “liberal consensus” of 1998-2004 suffered a sudden and strange death 2 : seeping from the fringes back into the political mainstream—and with stunning vigour at that—were “discourses of frustration,” which used to dominate party politics in the 1990s. 3 As the Financial Times put it, there was “an impression of increasing instability [in the region] . . . just another sign that deep political divisions . . . are back on display after a long period when the countries were on their best and politest behaviour to get into the European Union.” 4 In fact, after the first post-accession elections in countries of the Visegrad Four, it seemed safe to conclude that local party systems changed very little between 1998 and 2008.
Does that, however, mean that the period of Europeanisation in 1998–2004 and the “liberal consensus” it helped facilitate did not have any real transformative effect on the dynamics of party competition in Central Europe? During the accession process, the EU did seem to have a distinctive impact on patterns of interaction between political parties. Informal conditionality constrained the choice of coalition partners, tamed the nature of political campaigns, and nudged government and opposition parties toward consensus-building. At the same time, socialisation motivated Central European parties to adopt ideologies and operational modes of their West European counterparts. Yet none of this translated into lasting behavioural change that would replace traditional cleavages as the organizing principles of party competition in the region.
The following article will argue that the party systems in Central Europe only underwent “Potemkin Europeanisation”—essentially enjoying a “liberal consensus” thanks to a “camouflage effect” 5 of Europeanisation in 1998–2004—drawing broader conclusions about the persistence of cleavages as well as the nature of EU influence on the modus operandi of party politics in candidate countries.
The case for Potemkin Europeanisation will be made in three steps. First, the article will provide a brief overview of existing scholarship, identifying theoretical and empirical gaps. Next, it will offer a conceptual framework for the analysis of Europeanisation in the sphere of party politics in candidate countries. Finally, it will use the toolkit to conduct a “thick” qualitative comparison of Europeanisation processes under way in the party systems of Hungary and Poland during the accession negotiations, in 1998–2004. In so doing, it will capitalise on a range of primary sources, including thirty-two open-ended interviews, EU-level documents (the Commission’s Regular Reports, statutes and manifestos of pan-European party associations), country-level government and party platforms and last, but not least, media reports.
As Central European EU member states prepare to celebrate the ten-year anniversary of EU accession, discussing lessons from the accession process, and their implications for democratic consolidation, is timely, especially given considerable divergence in party development and competition across the region. For instance, Hungary, Central Europe’s “black sheep du jour,” is under fire from democracy watchdogs and heavy-weights within the community of democracies for democratic backsliding under the leadership of Viktor Orban’s right-wing government. On the other hand, Poland has reaffirmed its position as a “success story” of post-communist transformation after it emerged from its own incarnation of the post-accession crisis under the Kaczynski twins, upgrading to the premier league of European politics.
Be the Potemkin village shattered and exposed, or replaced by a sturdy real one, this article argues that pre-accession EU conditionality explains very little, which is an important finding in itself. If its constraining effects on party politics peter out as soon as the last carrot is granted, democratic consolidation in relation to party politics—or lack thereof—must depend on other factors, such as favourable cross-cutting of domestic cleavages and reputational concerns on the international stage, coupled with a strong motivation for social learning within the EU following entry.
Literature on Europeanisation and Party Politics: The Dog That Did Not Bark?
To blame the populist and nationalist malaise of Central European party politics in the mid-2000s on EU influence seems counter-intuitive: the EU rarely uses its “sticks” and “carrots” to attempt to transform “politics”—as opposed to “policies” and “polities”—which is partly why Europeanisation literature still remains “thin” on party politics. In fact, most scholars tend to perceive Europeanisation in this sphere as a “cause in search of an effect” or, more colloquially, the “dog that did not bark.” 6 The EU makes few deliberate attempts to “Europeanise” political parties: the domain is neither part of the acquis communautaire nor the Copenhagen criteria, and it is difficult to speak of “compliance” when EU conditionality is poorly defined or informal. 7
The call for studies exploring the “missing link” between Europeanisation and party politics, which had been resounding in academic discourse for some time, 8 only received isolated—if valuable—responses 9 until the EU’s “big bang” enlargement of 2004, and especially the crisis in its aftermath, drew attention to the possible clash between the logics of EU accession and democratic consolidation. The “post-accession malaise” in Central Europe highlighted the relevance of earlier critical works, which charged the EU with hollowing 10 or deforming party competition. 11 But the first post-accession wave of Europeanisation scholarship did in fact uphold the original assumption that the EU has little or no effect on political parties, in terms of organization, 12 manifestos, 13 or competition. 14 In the Central European context, the EU was rather wittily compared to a large and talkative passenger, seeking to influence the behaviour of fellow travellers in the compartment through force of argument and offer of food, drink, and reading material. 15
But whether the “dog barked or not,” it is important to ask what the dog is and what sort of bark we should expecting. 16 The aim of this article is, above all, to integrate the piecemeal accounts of cases and non-cases and offer a comprehensive conceptual framework for the analysis of the overall relevance of Europeanisation in party politics during the accession process and beyond. The natural next step is testing the theoretical propositions. Since the debate commenced with the “post-accession malaise” in Central Europe, the second, empirical section of the article, will present a qualitative study of party competition dynamics in Poland and Hungary—model party systems for the Visegrad region and beyond, since one epitomizes Giovanni Sartori’s moderate pluralism and the other his polarised pluralism—in the crucial period (1998–2004) ahead of EU entry.
EU Influence on Party Politics in Central Europe in 1998–2004: Potemkin Europeanisation?
The opening of accession negotiations in 1998 thrust post-communist Central Europe into the most massive socialisation process under way in the international system: Europeanisation. To establish if—and how—Europeanisation affected party systems in Poland and Hungary, the nature of EU influence in the key period of 1998–2004 must first be conceptually harnessed: which mechanisms of Europeanisation, in terms of logic, agents, benchmarks, and toolkits, could Brussels have had at hand at the time of negotiations to rein in political parties in hopeful entrants?
The task of pinning down the “why,” “who,” “what” and “how” of Europeanisation in the sphere of party politics is Sisyphean in several respects. The disputed concept of Europeanisation 17 poses the first hurdle: due to its inherent complexity—it tends to involve a myriad of agents, instruments and mechanisms—as well as ambiguity—it can be operationalised as both process and outcome—most available definitions opt for theoretical and empirical utility, which means they rank high on Sartori’s ladder of generality. Hence, Europeanisation tends to be perceived a prolonged, non-linear process that continues after accession and does not necessarily lead to convergence. The dynamics of the process are even more difficult to encapsulate in candidate countries, where they do not only pertain to “passive leverage” 18 but also “active leverage,” or, in other words, conditionality, through which Brussels meddles in the domestic affairs far more forcefully than it can in member states. The informality and subtlety of Europeanisation in the sphere of party politics unfortunately invites more conceptual gerry-mandering. Policy makers in Brussels do not exert direct pressure on political parties, and perhaps for a fair reason: the post-Rokkanian 19 world of catch-all and cartel parties has made it difficult to delineate an “ideal type” of party competition that candidate countries should aspire to. Should Sweden, Germany, or Italy serve as a model for, say, Poland?
Nevertheless, for the sake of advancing the argument, it is necessary to define the “what” of Europeanisation: formal and informal rules that seem to be governing the behaviour of West European political parties, to assess how well they have fared when travelling east. At the heart of the “protocol” lies commitment to democratic standards—as defined in the European Union’s Copenhagen criteria 20 —and ideologies of mainstream party families, spelled out in the founding documents of pan-European party associations, such as the European People’s Party or the Party of European Socialists. 21 As for the latter, Jan Marinus Wiersma, PES group vice president, highlights one of the fundamentals: “The most important rules concern how parties deal with racism and anti-Semitism, the extreme right.” 22 But there are also informal rules that mainstream parties in candidate countries would be expected to embrace: above all, the centre-right/centre-left consensus on economic growth and the welfare state that helped West European political parties overcome the period of struggle between fascism and communism 23 and the project of European integration as a direct manifestation of that consensus. 24 Christian Kremer, Deputy Secretary General of the EPP, stresses that, when considering a candidate for membership, “the position on European integration is key.” 25 Lastly, it is desirable for parties in candidate countries to learn the ropes of political marketing, based on catch-all strategies of electoralism and personalism. Hence, when it comes to the “what” of Europeanisation, it seems that it does not involve diffusion, construction, and institutionalisation of a standard “European party system”—since none exists—but of certain desirable attributes shared by West European party systems.
Moving on to the “how” of Europeanisation: Which logics and mechanisms are at play in the realm of party politics? During the accession process, hopeful entrants generally learn their lessons through the rationalist logic of consequences, and the constructivist logic of appropriateness, 26 based on “external incentives” and “social learning,” respectively. 27 The first model capitalises on asymmetrical interdependence. Central European “pupils” comply with the rules of the “teachers” from the EU, because the latter can threaten, with sticks, to withdraw the ultimate prize—or the largest, juiciest carrot—awaiting them at the end of the accession process. When applied to political parties, this mechanism of Europeanisation can be described as “informal conditionality”: in the virtual absence of any relevant acquis communautaire, what matters is the perception of asymmetry. 28 The second model of “social learning,” by contrast, makes use of social motivation. “Pupils” adopt the norms of the “teachers” because they come to perceive them as “desirable and appropriate.” 29 In the realm of party politics, this mechanism of Europeanisation can be equated with “socialisation,” channeled through pan-European party associations, such as the PES, EPP-ED and AEN. 30
Both mechanisms tend to work in tandem: hence the causal links leading up to the instances of Europeanisation under investigation are often difficult to disentangle. 31 Moreover, as party politics is the dependent variable, the perennial methodological issue is complicated further by the informality of conditionality, which in this case can get conflated with socialisation even more easily than otherwise. Rather than pitting the incentive-based and socialisation-based mechanisms against one another, they will be understood as poles on a graduated scale that can accommodate different amalgams of both. Where incentives prevail over socialisation, Europeanisation will work through the mechanism of informal conditionality. Where socialisation outweighs incentives, Europeanisation will depend on mechanisms of persuasion and social influence (Figure 1). 32
Mechanisms of Europeanisation: graduated scale
Incentive-based Mechanisms: In Pursuit of the “Carrots”
Ahead of accession, the EU exercised leverage on party politics in Central Europe chiefly via the mechanism of informal conditionality. In the absence of relevant acquis, Brussels conveyed its recommendations indirectly, via the European Commission to governments and directly, via the European Parliament to parties. Member states also contributed to the effort: individual parties and foundations such as the German Stiftungen tailored their advice to like-minded parties. Passive leverage was also at play, as the perception of asymmetry propelled aspirants to “engage in anticipatory adjustment to EU policies as well, adopting EU norms or practices before the European Union told them they must do so.” 33
The purpose of this section is to conceptualise the “model behaviour” that the EU sought to promote and establish how effective informal conditionality was in securing it. In 1998–2004, the process of Europeanisation affected key elements of party competition: coalition making, political campaigning, and government–opposition relations. 34 In coalition making, parties were expected to forge enduring partnerships 35 and avoid alliances with extremists, Euro-sceptics, and ex-authoritarians. Hence, ideological proximity or power position within the coalition was supposed to matter less during negotiations than the potential partner’s reputation in the EU and the future coalition’s stability. In political campaigning, parties were urged to limit the agenda on the table by focusing on “valence issues”—such as credibility in completing accession negotiations and delivering various reforms—to avoid divisive disputes related to traditional cleavages. Finally, in government–opposition relations, parties were encouraged to seek broad consensus, passing EU legislation and keynote reforms by cross-party majorities and moderating party-to-party criticism. Overall, the EU promoted cooperative–competitive mechanics of party competition. On the graduated scale, strongest EU influence is expected in coalition making, weakest in government–opposition relations (Figure 2).
Incentive-based mechanisms: party competition
Hungary: stability of a graveyard
In Hungary, informal conditionality had a transformative effect on coalition making: in the run up to EU accession, “foreign policy and within that European affairs were . . . the strongest aspect of coalition politics.” 36 Hence, EU pressure over-rode the pivotal cleavage pitting “traditionalists” against “westernisers,” and thus stifled the “Kulturkampf.” 37 Euro-enthusiastic parties orchestrated a “six-party consensus on foreign policy,” which forced them to keep their distance from extreme right and extreme left parties with “Euro-phobic” positions. 38 Thus, when seeking coalition partners, MSZP and Fidesz shunned the two Hungarian “Euro-phobes.” For Fidesz, which could ally with the extreme right after the 1998 election, as well as form an electoral alliance with it ahead of the 2002 election, decided against it, though—despite being more moderate than the extreme-right parties, MIÉP and Jobbik—it had never distinguished itself clearly from them. In 2000, Fidesz’s Chairman and the Prime Minister, Viktor Orban, received Austria’s Chancellor, Wolfgang Schuessel, in Budapest, despite the latter’s row with the EU over the coalition with Jorg Haider, thereby hinting that the Austrian coalition could be a model for him in the future. 39 Nonetheless, as economist Laszlo Andor of EBRD puts it, the Fidesz was aware of Hungary’s asymmetrical interdependence on the EU and ultimately realised that it could end up like Austria—that is, isolated, only in a worse sense, because the country was still outside the Union. 40 On the centre-left side, European affairs played a key role as well, anchoring the “strange bed-fellowship” of the post-communist MSZP and the Liberals. Though pitted against each other by both regime and socioeconomic cleavages, the two parties formed their second coalition in 2002. Crucially, the Liberals were Fidesz’s “ideological cousins.” Even in 2002, they were ideologically closer to Fidesz but, as Enyedi puts it, the two anti-Communist and liberal parties chose between one of their leading values, and the liberals’ Euro-enthusiastic stance pushed them to embrace a coalition with the post-communists. 41 Overall, informal conditionality seemed to drive Hungary’s political parties to forge moderate and/or pro-European coalitions.
Political campaigning was less affected by EU influence: valence issues 42 did not overshadow the Kulturkampf. Hungarian political parties used European integration to outbid one another in managerial competence. 43 As Graham Avery of the European Commission put it, “What we observed from Brussels was a syndrome where the parties in opposition wanted to argue that they were better at delivering EU membership.” 44 Before the 1998 election, MSZP advocated the Finnish negotiating strategy, 45 arguing that the nationalist Fidesz might derail Hungary’s integration. MSZP Chairman Laszlo Kovacs even refused to use the word disadvantage in relation to EU accession. Fidesz retorted by defending the tough Austrian approach to negotiations, pledging to secure a good bargain, including free movement of labour and large agricultural subsidies. Similarly, in 2002, MSZP campaigned in favour of swift accession, while Fidesz coined the famous slogan “Yes, but . . .” On the other hand, Tibor Dessewffy of Demos 46 takes the view that “the EU was just another playground for domestic issues.” 47 The 2002 election campaign was a fantastic display of nationalism and, at times, even radicalism. The leader of the right, waving the national flag and chanting “Go, Hungary,” declared a war to “defend the nation,” while the left’s candidate for prime minister, in turn, called himself a leader of ten million Hungarian citizens who also felt responsible for fifteen million Hungarians. 48 Andras Lanczi, a right-leaning political analyst, insists that “the EU was not able to mitigate the conflicts because it was not neutral. It tried—indirectly—to interfere in the internal affairs of candidate states.” 49 In a way, he expresses a general concern of Central Europe’s centre-right, suggesting that the EU is inherently “biased” in favour of the centre-left. 50
In government–opposition relations, informal conditionality secured a temporary truce between traditionalists and westernisers. Their relations became less competitive, especially in Parliament. When asked if Hungarian political parties felt compelled to avoid conflict, Tibor Navracsics, chief of Fidesz’s caucus, offered a firm “Yes.” 51 In matters of EU accession, status of Hungarians abroad, and “good neighbourliness,” the camps coordinated positions. For instance, the status law on Hungarian minorities living abroad was approved by a majority of 95 percent. Consensus also spilled over to some domestic issue areas: the government and the opposition jointly approved the “glass pocket” anti-corruption law in 2000. But these centripetal tendencies can also be ascribed to the paralysis of MSZP after its 1998 electoral defeat. The Fidesz government used it to curtail the opposition’s access to information and power, thus weakening its ability to monitor its activities. 52 As Bozoki puts it, “The goal of this restructuring was total control over the government, and maximising the freedom of movement of the Prime Minister.” 53 Thus, for some time, party competition ceased to be “robust.” The Fidesz changed the frequency of parliamentary plenary sessions from weekly to every three weeks and obstructed the opposition’s efforts to launch special investigative committees. Prime Minister Viktor Orban also designated the opposition as “unworthy” of celebrating the national holiday with his party, and he denounced the citizens of Budapest for electing Gabor Demszky of the opposition as mayor. After the 2002 election, government–opposition relations deteriorated, as the loser—Fidesz—took politics to the streets, allowing its grassroots “Civic Circles” to lash out in protest, demanding election recounts. In the year after the election, Viktor Orban rejected posts in the Parliament, and shunned the traditional role in opposition. An example given by Andras Lanczi is quite telling: “He [Orban] didn’t even want to go to Greece, where the accession treaty was being signed.” 54
Poland: silent consensus
In Poland, informal conditionality had a decisive impact on coalition making. Euro-enthusiastic parties orchestrated a “silent consensus” that secured political stability for the first time in post-communist history. Poland is the only Central European country that fully internalised the pro-/anti-European cleavage. 55 The strong presence of hardline Euro-sceptics in Parliament forced the rest of the parties to unite to secure EU membership. In coalition making, the cleavage drastically reduced alternatives. 56 EU influence also compelled Polish parties to seek reliable partners, given the history of fractious coalitions. In 1997, hard Euro-sceptics didn’t cross the threshold: hence, the regime divide re-bundled the post-Solidarity camp, soft-Euro-sceptics of AWS, and Euro-enthusiastic Liberals. Had the parties prioritised the pro-/anti-European divide, the Liberals could have forged a pro-European, pro-reform, and secular partnership with the post-communist SLD. 57 In 2001, the EU effect was strongest, as a wide range of soft and hard Euro-sceptics entered the Sejm for the first time with the alleged “determination to fracture the reform consensus which . . . had characterized Polish politics since the Solidarity opposition.” 58 The victorious SLD early on dismissed the far-left Euro-sceptics, though there was solid evidence that its voters would have welcomed the union. 59 Commentator Wojciech Przybylski believes that SLD knew that “you would have a weaker position in the accession negotiations if you had some radical party in government.” 60 The SLD also bypassed the liberal yet Euro-realist PO in favour of the Agrarian Party (PSL), perceived as more Euro-friendly by both voters and the SLD—especially when comparisons were made with the rest—despite its tough negotiating stance on the terms of application of the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) to Poland, which most of the parties represented in the Sejm shared in any case. 61 Overall, it may seem that the EU only had a subtle impact on coalition making in the country. But it was the first time that Polish parties demonstrated genuine concern for government stability. Jerzy Buzek became the first Prime Minister to serve a full term. Moreover, the resignation of Prime Minister Leszek Miller of SLD—a day after EU accession—would probably have occurred much sooner had it not been for the consensus that his cabinet deserved to stay until the formal conclusion of the accession process.
In political campaigning, informal conditionality did not change the logic of domestic party competition. In fact, the issue of accession rarely even appeared in slogans or programmes. Yet, “the unobtrusiveness of the subject . . . does not need to be an indication of its perceived unimportance. The fact that EU membership was apparently not considered a topic that needed further elaboration . . . serve[s] as evidence of its pervasiveness as a basic, underlying policy preference among a wide range of political actors.” 62 Hence, the “pre-accession consensus” in Poland was a silent one. Unlike in Hungary, “valence issues” did not dominate the campaigns of 1997 and 2001. In 1997, the AWS ran an ideological campaign: it promised to “finish the Solidarity 63 revolution,” releasing its “21 programmatic tasks” on the anniversary of the Gdansk agreements, which had bound the Communist Party to accept the “21 demands” of the workers who later founded Solidarity. 64 The incumbent SLD bet on technocratic expertise, taking credit for the good shape of the economy with the slogan “We kept our word.” 65 EU-related issues played a more important role in the election campaign of 2001. The SLD stressed that they were “facing a big national challenge: to finish the process of negotiations with the EU.” 66 The SLD’s main competitors, newcomers PiS and PO, used the rhetoric of soft Euro-scepticism, focusing on issues such as agriculture or land ownership, which had widely been perceived as controversial throughout the negotiations. PiS even stressed the need for a referendum: “The decision to enter the Union must be a decision taken by the people . . . the Poles have to be presented a credible document that describes all the side effects of accession.” 67 MP Ryszard Kalisz of SLD said that the “SLD won not only because it was a party of concepts and experts, but also because it had a pro-European attitude.” 68 Though domestic issues did override EU-related ones in the campaigns, voters’ sympathies for most parties correlated with their attitudes toward EU entry, 69 and the SLD won because it was aware of that.
Informal conditionality also played a key role in stabilising traditionally turbulent government–opposition relations. Major players on the political scene understood that completing the negotiations “in good standing” was in Poland’s national interest. Despite strong pressure from Poland’s think-tanks, analyst Krzysztof Bobinski 70 recalls, the consensus remained silent: political parties refused to sign a pledge to cooperate. 71 However, it worked in the Parliament: acquis communautaire advanced by cross-party majorities. Jerzy Buzek, AWS Prime Minister in 1997–2001, argues that “with integration as a common goal for all the parties, it was natural that both the government and opposition looked for dialogue, to assure the best possible terms of accession.” 72 While in government, the AWS managed to secure the backing of part of the opposition for some of its measures, even as quarrels continued within the coalition. Under the SLD government, the “silent consensus” spilled over into several issue areas: mainly those related to the Church—whose support was needed ahead of the accession referendum 73 —and the Constitution for Europe. In order to avoid alienating the Church ahead of the referendum, the secular SLD did not challenge any of the culturally determined social policies—such as access to abortion—even though it lost voters over the issue. 74 Consensus also prevailed in the debate on the Constitution for Europe, with all mainstream parties—including the SLD, PiS, and PO—jointly criticising the document as detrimental to Poland’s national interest.
Socialisation-based Mechanisms: In Search of “Back-Patting”
The EU also used socialisation-based mechanisms to “Europeanise” political parties in candidate countries. The main platforms for ideational exchange were the pan-European party associations. 75 Moreover, active West European parties contributed effort. Persuasion and social influence rely on “soft” instruments, such as back-patting, opprobrium, or status maximisation to achieve desired outcomes. Hence, Central Europeans had to demonstrate a certain willingness to learn from their West European counterparts: arguably, they came to understand early on that they could survive internationally only if they emulated the West European model. 76
The purpose of this section is to conceptualise what the EU expected of Central European parties and determine how successful socialisation was in securing it. In 1998–2004, Europeanisation via socialisation targeted two constitutive elements of party identity 77 : ideology—as presented in party documents—and operational mode, for example, image, policies, and organization. 78 In terms of ideology, Central European parties were supposed to engage in programmatic dialogue with the appropriate pan-European party associations and adopt their key principles and policy paradigms as well as develop or deepen their commitment to European integration. As for operational mode, parties were encouraged to mimic the West European catch-all model based on electoralism and personalism packaged by political marketing. On the graduated scale, stronger leverage is expected in ideology than in operational mode (Figure 3).
Socialisation-based mechanisms: political parties
Hungary: Model Pupil
Hungary’s political parties readily adapted their ideologies to the standard common in pan-European internationals. Jan Marinus Wiersma, vice president of the PES group in the European Parliament, reiterates that the Hungarians were among those most eager to “learn.” 79 First, as Fidesz and MSZP sought membership in the EPP and the PES, they had to adopt key elements of Christian democratic and social democratic ideology, respectively, to qualify. As Christian Kremer, deputy secretary general of the EPP, puts it, “We tried to . . . exert pressure; the parties . . . wanted to become members [of the pan-European party families] . . . and they were ready to change something to get in.” 80 The dominant mechanism of Europeanisation at work was persuasion, based on the Hungarians’ reputational concern. First, parties took steps to demonstrate their commitment to human rights, democracy, and EU integration, core European values. Fidesz’s foreign strategy accentuates that “for more than a millennium, Hungary has been inextricably linked to Western Christian culture and European values; we aim to defend these values.” 81 Moreover, both parties pledged their allegiance to Christian democratic, or social democratic, principles. MSZP stated in its statutes that “it believes and advocates the values of the international social-democratic movement” 82 and pledged to uphold “market principles, globalisation, openness of the economy and the system of social benefits.” 83 Arguably, the socialists’ “strategy of pragmatic reform”—including a fast-track approach to PES integration—stemmed, in large part, from the party’s strive to regain legitimacy, a common concern for communist successor parties. Its adversary, Fidesz, abandoned the association of liberal parties and adjusted its programme to join the EPP. In its founding manifesto, it vowed to follow “the traditions of Christian democracy and social market economy, as well as by joining the great family of the Europe’s people’s parties.” 84
Ahead of EU accession, Hungarian parties also took active steps to adjust their operational modes to West European standards. Arguably, both Fidesz and MSZP cherry-picked from Germany, the United Kingdom, and Italy, borrowing bits and pieces of the local parties’ image, policy, organisation, and political marketing. Fidesz focused on party organisation in an attempt to emulate the “mass party” model, as it was lagging behind its post-communist rival. “We had to build a new machinery, based on the Civic Circles, civic mobilization. This is most similar to Forza Italia and [the French] UNP,” says Fidesz’s caucus chief Tibor Navracsics. 85 The party also sought policy expertise, especially on how to run and establish a “social market economy”: its conceptualization of welfare, which “does not only mean bread, work, school, consumer goods, but also family, children, friends, national pride, love, solidarity and justice,” was inspired by Germany’s CDU. 86 MSZP, on the other hand—as it had to shed the label of a communist successor party—turned elsewhere and emulated Britain’s Labour Party. The “Third Way” clearly drove the socialists to reconcile a liberal business attitude with more care for the poor. 87 Yet, according to some observers, MSZP’s reinvention remained shallow, “the leader of MSZP—and possibly one or two of his supporters—made the idea behind Blair’s ‘Third Way’ their own, but the bulk of the party remained the old-school left.” 88 Viktor Szigetvari, former advisor to Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsany, puts it this way: “We became Blairised in terms of campaigning—style and technique—not so much policy content.” 89 In sum, Hungarian political parties focused on political marketing, and only developed a limited understanding of their West European partners’ ideological agenda.
Poland: high-school “seniors.”
In Poland, political parties were less keen on adopting the ideology of pan-European parties in the run up to EU accession. As SLD parliamentarian Tadeusz Iwinski puts it, Poland’s perceived position as the “most important country in Central Europe” 90 —of the Visegrad states, only Poland could realistically claim to possess the numerical strength to alter the balance of power in the European Parliament—made political parties less prone to reputational concern and consequently less eager to join pan-European party associations. The lack of motivation stemmed from incentives, rather than socialisation. On the centre-right, AWS tried to pose as Christian democratic, yet, as it remained a loose grouping of 22 parties, it was difficult for it to integrate into the EPP. 91 It finally joined in 1999, despite a cautious approach to European integration, which would have been a better fit with the AEN. In the 1997 programme, AWS made it clear that it preferred to belong to a Europe that was intergovernmental in the Gaullist tradition of “l’Europe des Patries.” 92 As for AWS’s successor parties, PiS and PO both at first aspired to membership in the EPP. Yet in the event, PiS opted for the AEN. Power and position were the primary motivation. PiS parliamentarian Pawel Poncyljusz puts it this way: “When we were in the EPP environment . . . we concluded that there is no chance to have real influence in this party, and decided to step back.” 93 Similarly, PO joined the EPP to maximise the influence it would have in the European arena: as Krzysztof Bobinski puts it, the party’s liberal profile did not really suit the Christian democratic grouping. 94 On the centre-left, SLD’s effort to join the PES was based on reputational concern. SLD framed it as “breaking with the past while remaining faithful to the values of equality and social justice inherited from the former ruling party.” 95 It subscribed to the programmatic documents presented by the PES, advocating the “principles of solidarity and common justice, not only based on the structure of the common market and currency, but also on the area of common social standards and policy of balanced development.” 96
As for their operational modes, parties in Poland also learned little from West European counterparts. The perception of Poland as “unique” contributed to the relative failure of socialisation, especially on the centre-right. The asymmetry partly stems from the suspicion held toward Polish anti-communists “by Western cultural liberals . . . because of the close ties to the Roman Catholic Church, and by Western conservatives because of the trade-unionist background.” 97 Yet the sentiments run both ways. Pawel Poncyljusz of PiS believes that “for socialists, it is easier to establish common ideas and close cooperation because the main approach is to be open and agree with everyone . . . every conservative party has to put pressure on national interest—which is different everywhere.” 98 Thus, AWS, PiS, and PO leaders have mostly sought advice in political marketing, rather than policy. The AWS has demonstrated a commitment to the catch-all strategy in 1997, posing as a moderate, Christian democratic grouping, “thereby making deep inroads into the political centre-ground.” 99 In the campaign, it shunned divisive moral issues such as abortion, and avoided radical rhetoric it had used just a year before. PiS and PO can also be described as “cautious pupils.” By 2004, they provided few hints as to where they were headed, with the exception of the PiS, whose leader Jaroslaw Kaczynski said he wanted to “construct a right-wing party capable of emulating the success of the German Christian Democrats.” 100 On the centre-left, SLD serves as an exemplary case of socialisation. A model catch-all party, SLD has sought and successfully applied advice on political marketing. 101 During the hey-day of social democracy under Tony Blair and Gerhard Schroeder, SLD adopted key concepts of the Third Way—equality of opportunity—and Die Neue Mitte—social state (Sozialstaat)—respectively. Overall, Europeanisation of the ideology and the operational mode of Polish parties has been modest. 102
Conclusion: Return to the Discourses of Frustration?
After EU entry, discourses of frustration temporarily returned to Central Europe, empowering colourful populists and embittered nationalists who re-established conflict and deadlock as standard political practice in the mid-2000s. The comparative analysis of the different mechanisms of Europeanisation at work in Hungary and Poland in 1998–2004 indicates that the backlash should not have come as a surprise: throughout the negotiations, EU influence on party competition remained informal and, to a great extent, pre-emptive. 103 In other words, the so-called liberal consensus of 1998–2004 remained skin deep, and though the “camouflage effect” of Europeanisation is an instructive finding, it raises more questions than it helps answer: was it the pressure from Brussels—for example, the logic of accession—or the need for reform in Budapest and Warsaw—for example, the logic of transition—that held it in place? Most likely, it was a combination of both, but the causal links remain to be disentangled.
To identify broader implications of Potemkin Europeanisation for party competition in Central Europe, the post-accession era—characterised by the welcome absence of conditionality, which tends to overcrowd other explanatory variables—presents fertile ground for the testing of alternative explanations. The dynamics of post-accession party competition in Central Europe signify that the region did not descend into a crisis after EU entry; it simply returned to “normality.” Worrisome backsliding under the Kaczynski brothers in Poland, Robert Fico in Slovakia, or Viktor Orban in Hungary has been interlaced with “corrective” developments under moderate governments, such as those of Petr Necas in the Czech Republic, Donald Tusk in Poland, or Iveta Radicova in Slovakia.
The oscillation between different equilibria suggests that endogenous explanations such as the cleavage theory, as well as scholarly works discussing substantive aspects of democratic consolidation, may offer valuable—and potentially more nuanced—insight into the patterns of party development in Central Europe, which seem to be more cyclical in some parts of the region, and more linear in others. The cases of Hungary, currently trapped in a spiral of muscular populism inherently defiant of democratic standards, and to a lesser extent the Czech Republic, troubled by isolationism and “partocracy,” indicate that the ghosts of post-communism have an unpleasant habit of haunting the former Soviet satellites in times of tranquility (2005–2008) and turmoil (from the onset of the global economic crisis onward) alike. Yet at the same time, the cases of Poland and also Slovakia, which seem to have nested comfortably in the haven of European democracies, even if the stability that they enjoy does not necessarily equal convergence—their party systems still resemble hybrid models based on post-Rokkanian cleavages that did not breed traditional mass parties but established a unique Central European version of left/right competition—demonstrate that Europeanisation is a slow, incremental process built upon post-accession socialisation, which, unlike incentives, continues to subtly nudge EU member states towards conformity even in issue areas where Brussels can no longer induce compliance.
Hence, Potemkin Europeanisation in Central European candidate countries in 1998–2004 reveals not only that the structural weaknesses of post-communist party politics run deeper than the notion of “post-accession malaise,” popular in 2005–2008, would have us believe, but also that Europeanisation based primarily on conditionality does not necessarily go beyond a temporary “camouflage effect,” which, while immediately visible, may wield less transformative power on party competition than socialisation in the long run. The “thick” qualitative analysis also once again highlights a common charge against the Europeanisation literature, which is commonly accused of overestimating the explanatory value of its independent variable.