Motivation & Contribution

Over the past 10-15 years, both longstanding and relatively new democracies have suffered from backsliding and erosion, including India, the United States, Brazil, Turkey, and many others. Many social scientists have explained this wave of backsliding in terms of either (a) elected autocrats who undermine democracy from within or (b) declining popular support for democrats who have failed to deliver economic growth and prosperity. However, recent scholarship by Thomas Carothers and Brendan Hartnett has questioned the wisdom of the latter. For example, India enjoyed strong economic growth prior to its backsliding under Narendra Modi.

In “Delivering for Democracy,” Francis Fukuyama, Chris Dann, and Beatriz Magaloni set out to more systematically evaluate the evidence connecting popular support for democracy with delivery, examining both backsliding and non-backsliding countries. After finding preliminary evidence for the democracy-delivery relationship, they offer an explanation of why delivery is simultaneously so important and so elusive under democratic governance.

Evidence

Using ten data sources covering 650,000 people in both old and new democracies, the authors find a strong, positive correlation between satisfaction with democracy and economic performance. This relationship holds not only for many countries at one point in time but for pairs of countries over time. In two developing democracies — Argentina and Brazil — as well as in two developed democracies — Greece and Spain — satisfaction and delivery have been closely connected since 2005, plummeting during economic crises and rising during periods of prosperity. These patterns call for an explanation for why voters care so much about delivery, such that they may be willing to sacrifice their democratic freedoms for it.
 

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The Argument

Delivery is Important

The authors begin from the axiom that stable political life depends upon citizens perceiving their governments as legitimate. Legitimacy can be thought of in terms of both performance — the effective delivery of goods and services — and procedure, which encompasses policies that reflect the democratic will of the people. As the examples of China, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Singapore show, however, plenty of autocracies and backsliding democracies have not only delivered, but have also arguably outperformed their democratic peers. From China’s Belt and Road Initiative to Turkey’s Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge, authoritarian leaders and ruling parties have achieved remarkable performance legitimacy. 

Although autocracies, by definition, cannot be procedurally legitimate, this may carry little weight for democratic citizens who experience prolonged unemployment or must deal with dilapidated infrastructure. Indeed, public engagement through procedural channels — such as voting or jury service — has steadily declined across the democratic world. Democratic voters are increasingly willing to support outsider candidates who build new infrastructure or promise to fight crime, but who nonetheless restrict their political freedoms. Many citizens of El Salvador — which now claims the world’s highest incarceration rate — continue to view Nayib Bukele’s administration as the surest way of delivering security, despite a years-long state of emergency that has seriously eroded democratic freedoms. 

Meanwhile, established democracies built much of their infrastructure decades ago, so investments primarily maintain these systems, rather than showcasing new projects that can garner public support. In some cases, democracies have struggled to even maintain their existing infrastructure, perhaps best exemplified by the collapse of Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge. All of this creates the conditions for voters to support far-right, anti-democratic parties, which often blame immigrants for economic problems and propose illiberal solutions.

Yet Democratic Delivery is Difficult

Elected democrats seeking to deliver may find themselves hamstrung in ways that autocrats are not. For one, democratic institutions are composed of ‘veto players’ who can stymie the introduction of badly needed policies: national and subnational governments, multiple legislative chambers, judges who review and overturn executive action, and so on. At the same time, democrats must worry about election cycles and term limits, decreasing their incentives to deliver for the long term when later politicians may take credit. Meanwhile, legal and regulatory systems, such as those intended to protect the environment, may prevent the building of critical infrastructure. Property rights prevent the forcible displacement of communities for development, while civil liberties prevent the repression of those who refuse to be displaced. Rules meant to prevent regulatory capture often become arenas where powerful interest groups block and delay government action. 

Independent news media present another potential impediment to delivery, as criticism from journalists can make incumbents wary of undertaking new projects. In addition, media bias can convince voters to remove politicians who do, in fact, deliver. By contrast, autocrats who censor media and arrest journalists can focus on delivery alone, even while their development schemes often rest on corrupt and nepotistic practices. Popular discontent with democratic government ultimately creates a damaging feedback loop: voters are unwilling to fund government projects, in turn leading government to function worse, generating further discontent.
 

Prospects

Autocrats have figured out ways to deliver the goods and services their citizens want, but this does not make autocracy a just political system. By the same token, democracies may struggle to deliver, but their procedural legitimacy — especially voters’ ability to hold representatives to account — entails a powerful means of generating fair and inclusive delivery. As such, the authors call on democracies to examine their past and that of their peer countries — both developed and developing — for inspiration. For example, the U.S. New Deal was exemplary in building ambitious and popular infrastructure, as well as providing broad social and economic protections. (Of course, most of these projects would be hamstrung by modern-day regulatory frameworks.)

Meanwhile, Australia’s citizens have both benefited from a recent infrastructure boom and have demonstrated strong support for democracy. Finally, many Latin American countries have implemented popular and effective programs like conditional cash transfers. For the authors, addressing the issues most pressing to voters — such as job creation, which is especially salient to young people, who are most dissatisfied with democracy — will require democratic governments to strike the right balance between democracy and delivery.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

Motivation & Contribution

China has become a world leader in digital repression, including social media surveillance, internet shutdowns, website-blocking, and arrests of those posting content the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) deems threatening. These technologies have been deployed not only on Chinese citizens but have also been exported around the world, to both democracies and dictatorships. Huawei, the world’s largest — and partly state-owned — telecommunications provider, is at the center of this dynamic, having been exported to over 60 countries on every continent.

Despite the visibility of Huawei technology transfers outside of China, our understanding of how exactly this affects recipient countries is still in its infancy. Some observers see Huawei as a cornerstone of the CCP’s efforts to prop up foreign dictatorships. Others see Huawei as a source of economic growth in some of the world’s most populous and least developed countries, providing cost-effective telecommunications and infrastructure development. What is needed is systematic evidence to move beyond speculation and to better understand whether and how Huawei transfers affect repression.
 

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Erin B. Carter and Brett L. Carter help fill this crucial gap in our knowledge. Using data on all Huawei contracts across the world over a nearly twenty-year period, they find that Huawei transfers do, in fact, facilitate digital repression in the autocracies — but not the democracies — that receive them. Attempts at digital repression in democracies are more often checked by independent political institutions and legal frameworks. When these fail, civil society organizations, news media, and popular mobilization can step in. By contrast, autocrats tend to lack these constraints and can thus more readily use Huawei for digital repression. In short, the impact of Huawei transfers varies depending on regime type.

The article compellingly demonstrates the enduring role of political institutions — in this case, those enabling democratic resilience. In addition, it sheds light on one mechanism underlying the so-called global wave of autocratization, namely, Huawei transfers that enable dictators to more efficiently control their citizens. And from a methodological standpoint, the paper provides the “first cross-country, plausibly causal evidence” of the effects of Huawei on repression.

Data & Methods

The authors use data on Huawei contracts from 2000 to 2017, which comes from the AidData project. This includes 153 projects — almost entirely on communications technologies — in 64 countries worth over $1.5 billion. The vast majority of recipient countries are in Sub-Saharan Africa and Central, South, and Southeast Asia. Huawei is responsible for around 70% of all telecommunications in Africa alone. The single largest recipient of Huawei transfers is Indonesia (~$391 million of contracts), followed by Uzbekistan (~$150 million) and Cameroon (~$100 million). Notably, of the top 20 recipient countries, only one (Costa Rica) is considered “Free” by Freedom House, the rest being “Partly Free” or “Not Free.” Huawei transfers flow slightly more to democracies than to autocracies, but this is only if Indonesia is included; otherwise, transfers flow disproportionately to autocracies.
 

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Carter and Carter quantify the effect of Huawei transfers on repression by using the generalized synthetic control (GSC) method. The goal is to compare those countries receiving (the “treatment”) of Huawei transfers with those in the “control group” that do not. However, comparing the treated and controlled countries or “units” is difficult for several reasons. For one, the countries that receive Huawei transfers differ from those that do not, for example, in terms of their political institutions and economic development. In addition, there is a lag of several years between receipt of Huawei and its full implementation, and the effects of Huawei transfers may take several years before they are fully realized. Similarly, transfers are staggered over time; for example, the largest number of contracts was signed as China’s Belt and Road Initiative expanded between 2014 and 2015.

Comparing (such ostensibly different) treated and controlled units can be facilitated by constructing a “synthetic” control out of multiple control units. This will more closely match the treated unit’s characteristics prior to receiving Huawei. GSC extends (or generalizes) the synthetic control method by enabling comparison across multiple time periods (given the staggered rollout mentioned above), and across countries with different backgrounds prior to adopting Huawei technologies. Separate tests are then run for autocracies and democracies to capture how political institutions influence the effects of Huawei transfers.

Findings

In addition to the central finding about regime type, the authors also provide evidence that the countries most likely to contract with Huawei are more populous and poorer. These countries are, from China’s standpoint, attractive markets, and their governments appreciate the subsidies offered by China’s Export-Import Bank. As such, transfers are driven, in part, by demand in recipient countries. In addition, recipient countries are also more likely to have received Chinese aid and, therefore, recognize the One China policy. Meanwhile, autocracies, coup-prone countries, and those rich in natural resources are not more likely to receive Huawei transfers. All of these findings should be qualified by the secrecy surrounding Huawei contracts. Indeed, many such contracts include confidentiality clauses that prohibit recipient countries from divulging information.
 

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Correlates of Huawei technology transfers
 

Another set of findings relates to those democracies that do use Huawei to digitally repress, even if transfers do not systematically increase repression in democracies. India is an important case, as it is a world leader in periodically shutting down the internet. Unsurprisingly, democracies whose political institutions and civil society organizations have been weakened by elected leaders with authoritarian ambitions (such as Narendra Modi) seem more likely to impose shutdowns or monitor media. At the same time, weak democracies are unlikely to use Huawei to block websites or arrest their citizens for digital action. As Carter and Carter point out, this highlights the importance of disaggregating the concept of digital repression as well as the set of institutions that enable democratic resilience. Ultimately, “Exporting the Tools of Dictatorship” is exemplary in its use of systematic data to shed light on a complex and contested geopolitical issue.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

Motivation & Contribution

Vladimir Putin has ruled Russia for over a quarter century despite economic mismanagement, corruption, and a disastrous war in Ukraine. Prior to the invasion, Putin’s rule was often seen as exemplifying modern autocracy, maintaining one-man rule while employing less overt mechanisms of social control, such as propaganda and regularly held, albeit controlled, uncompetitive elections. Since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February of 2022, however, Putin’s authoritarianism has intensified, especially as opponents of the war are imprisoned, terrorized, driven into exile, or worse. As such, Russia’s “modern” autocracy, which relies less on force than on presenting a message to society of an all-capable state and leader, has transformed into a highly personalized form of harsh authoritarianism. At the same time, many average Russians do genuinely support Putin — especially given his emphasis on order in society and restoring Russian greatness — and view the regime as legitimate and responsive. Often, however, analysts of contemporary Russia in the West tend to focus more on those Russians who oppose Putin’s autocracy than on those who support it and why they do. 

In her “Review Article: Why Does Putinism Endure? Dialoguing With the Dictator,” Kathryn Stoner tackles this question through a critical analysis mainly of Hannah Chapman’s Dialogue with the Dictator: Authoritarian Legitimation and Information Management in Putin’s Russia. The analysis is complemented by insights from four other recently published books on authoritarianism and Russia. For Stoner, Chapman’s central contribution lies in showing how a seemingly ridiculous exercise in state propaganda — the Direct Line with Vladimir Putin TV call-in show — is in fact an important way of legitimizing Putin’s rule, providing his regime with information about social preferences and sources of dissatisfaction while affording citizens with the feeling that their complaints are being heard and even resolved live and on TV. Gaining information about citizens would otherwise be difficult in such an unfree society, where individual preferences that may be critical of Putin’s rule are often concealed or deliberately falsified to avoid punishment by the regime. The reader learns that even hegemonic dictators must be perceived by citizens to be a good listener. 

The Functions of ‘Participatory Technologies’

The conceptual foundation of Chapman’s analysis lies in what she terms ‘participatory technologies’ (PTs), which allow citizens to interact with authoritarian regimes “directly and in a positive manner.” Observers tend to dismiss PTs, which are often low-technology formats like TV shows or radio programs, as ‘spin’ or mere propaganda. In Russia, however, Putin uses PTs not only to control what information reaches citizens, but also to enhance his legitimacy and appear more accountable. Although PTs are limited and highly individualized — for example, more often than not ignoring collective demands — they are direct.

Participatory technologies differ from autocrats’ sham, window-dressing elections, where the outcome is a foregone conclusion. Instead, they permit citizens to engage with and provide input to the autocrat on specific issues. They also provide information to the regime about the performance of lower-level agents, such as governors or regional politicians, given that citizens are often concerned with local, day-to-day problems. By involving these lower-level agents, autocrats can deflect responsibility for governance problems away from themselves. Finally, PTs provide value to those who participate in them, giving them a sense of political efficacy. At the same time, however, PTs may expose embarrassing governmental dysfunctions. Indeed, the resolution of local problems – like fixing potholes on a local road – should not require direct citizen engagement with powerful national-level leaders. Furthermore, PTs run the risk of being overused and being seen as performative and fake by citizens.
 

Tuning into Direct Line

Stoner’s review article discusses Chapman’s analysis of one PT in particular, namely the Direct Line with Vladimir Putin call-in show. Direct Line began in 2001, organized by the Kremlin and broadcast on state-owned and pro-regime media. The audience and the questions posed are selected in advance. During the broadcast — which is one of the most watched events in Russia, perhaps because of compulsion from employers — Putin conveys to the audience that Russia is doing well, but that he is not satisfied, is working tirelessly, and wants to hear citizens’ concerns. Putin does not merely listen but acts to solve their concerns, for example, keeping a folder of issues raised by ordinary Russians and bringing these issues to the attention of regional governors. He has even forwarded questions directly to regional governors on air, which also serves to deflect responsibility away from himself. 

Methodology

Stoner describes the multiple survey experiments and interviews Chapman conducted in exploring whether Direct Line matters to ordinary Russians. Some of the interviewees seem to know that Direct Line is staged; yet they nonetheless find it compelling that Putin is not afraid to answer their sometimes uncomfortable questions. The goal of the survey experiments is to try to ascertain how prompts that (do not) mention Direct Line affect respondents’ evaluations of Putin. In other words, Direct Line is the ‘treatment,’ which participants in the ‘control’ group do not receive. One experiment only varies whether or not Putin heard about a problem on Direct Line. Another varies this as well as whether or not Putin resolved the problem. In both experiments, respondents whose prompts included mention of Direct Line evaluated Putin more favorably, although Stoner notes that the statistical effects of this are small. In another experiment, the mention of Direct Line leads respondents to believe there are greater opportunities to express their opinions and demands. Finally, a fourth experiment finds that respondents who support (oppose) Putin gave him higher (lower) evaluations when Direct Line was mentioned, hinting at how Direct Line might serve as a source of polarization in Russia.
 

Limitations

Stoner highlights an important puzzle about whether participatory technologies like Direct Line can, in fact, provide credible information to Putin’s regime. For example, questions are pre-screened to exclude subjects that could threaten the regime. Additionally, those who call in are already likely to be more supportive of or sympathetic to the regime. It would thus seem that Putin has better mechanisms for gathering credible information, such as through the Kremlin’s surveillance system, than through a PT like Direct Line, as Chapman claims. As such, Direct Line’s value appears primarily rhetorical, as opposed to informational — the regime is merely performing an exercise in responding to easy problems that can be resolved quickly by Putin, or inane questions about things like Putin’s favorite books.

Stoner’s review article notes her concerns regarding the generalizability of Chapman’s findings. First of all, it would be challenging to draw conclusions from the survey experiments, given that they concern a single group of people who were surveyed a decade ago (2015-2016). Relatedly, and in light of the war in Ukraine, Chapman’s analysis of PTs seems dated, as Putin has resorted far more often to severely punishing opposition (real and imagined) to his regime, rather than cajoling and coercing society with participatory technologies like his call-in show. Indeed, the show was cancelled in 2022 without explanation, but presumably to avoid difficult questions about the devastation wrought that autumn on the Russian armed forces in Ukraine. Nonetheless, Stoner notes that there is now a burgeoning literature that helps us better understand how, in normal times, autocrats effectively utilize the media and other technologies to build support and legitimate their rule, while providing citizens with a sense that they can influence politics, when in reality, they cannot.

Argument & Key Findings

The system of reentry institutions — including halfway houses, parole agencies, and housing assistance programs — can be extremely complicated for formerly incarcerated persons (FIPs) to navigate. These complications are not merely logistical, but also social and emotional: the ways in which FIPs interact with reentry institutions can affect their sense of belonging, dignity, and prosperity. When the rules and practices of reentry institutions undermine these needs, it becomes more likely that participants will violate rules, withdraw from the institutions altogether, or find themselves reincarcerated. 

In “Home But Not Free,” Gillian Slee offers a rich analysis of these socioemotional dynamics. The paper both increases our knowledge of reentry processes and deepens our understanding of FIPs and reentry staff. Previous scholars have focused more on how adverse outcomes stem from reentry institutions prioritizing surveillance or control. Slee pushes forward this conversation by highlighting how adverse outcomes also stem from failures to acknowledge and support the dignity of FIPs.

Slee’s paper is informed by over two years of ethnographic fieldwork with FIPs in Philadelphia. This includes observing over 200 appointments at a housing assistance program, analyzing more than 130 files of program participants, and both observing and assisting with programming at a women’s halfway house. 
 

Three Mechanisms:

The core of the paper centers on Slee’s elaboration of three mechanisms that link socioemotional concepts, such as indignity, to outcomes like withdrawal or reincarceration. Each mechanism is clarified through a range of examples and case studies.

1. Unrecognized vulnerability:

Reentry institutions and their staff often fail to recognize or respond to the constraints and vulnerabilities faced by FIPs. These failures can undermine the dignity of FIPs and provoke their withdrawal from such institutions. In the realm of housing assistance, the Philadelphia program requires that rent falls between 30% and 45% of participants’ income. However, this is often unrealistic given the difficulties of finding fairly priced units or securing gainful employment with a felony conviction. Accordingly, FIPs must seek low-quality units or roommates. Yet most participants do not want roommates because it reminds them of being incarcerated. Participants are thus presented with an undignified set of choices. The program restrictions mean that many FIPs cannot or will not utilize housing assistance programs, deepening their sense of instability.

Another source of vulnerability concerns the mismatch between FIPs’ expectations and the realities of frontline bureaucracy. For example, many housing assistance programs have too few staff, some of whom struggle to juggle appointments or return phone calls. Because reentry staff are overburdened, they may ask participants to pick up the slack by searching for housing units. Yet many FIPs lack the requisite know-how, for example, calling about units too frequently or too early in the morning. Others may show up hours early for their appointments, in the process annoying reentry staff. Yet participants are not coached on how to improve these behaviors, leading to neglect. Other FIPs must learn that the majority of units are listed online as opposed to in newspapers, incurring the mockery from reentry staff in the process. 

A final source of vulnerability concerns participants’ lack of efficacy — the sense that their efforts make little difference or are inadequate. Reentry staff may have high expectations of people who feel “cryogenically frozen in time” (p. 32) because of years of incarceration. Some are unable to use modern cell phones or have no rental history.
 

2. Discretion’s Benefits and Drawbacks:

The discretion exercised by reentry staff introduces difficult choices for participants, forcing them to choose between (a) following the rules and becoming socially isolated or (b) breaking the rules and developing social connections. For example, some halfway houses are restrictive about time spent outside of the house. Participants who abide by the rules may miss out on socially important events, like a child’s basketball game. Some FIPs may lie about or conceal where they live in order to deal with less intrusive parole agents. Others may cross state lines to pursue important career opportunities. One participant parked their mobile home outside of the parole district lines because it was less expensive and easier than seeking alternative units, but these kinds of ‘rational’ behaviors cannot be accommodated. Discretion is a highly variable attribute: some reentry staff cancel meetings and inconvenience participants, while others remember individuals’ needs and accommodate them. Those who expect more discretion than they receive may break the rules out of frustration. Ultimately, discretion and its absence can provoke a host of socioemotional problems.
 

3. Risk-Escalating Rules:

Instead of preventing noncompliance, program rules may serve to encourage it when they undermine participants’ sense of dignity. For example, 29 states prohibit associating with other FIPs, yet many participants have friends or family supervised by the system; as such, people violate the rules in order to preserve meaningful relationships. Some FIPs are faced with painful dilemmas, for example, choosing between living in halfway houses where drug use is common or breaking the rules by leaving. Others report using cocaine instead of marijuana because the latter can be detected in their bloodstream for much longer. Some halfway houses mandate spending a certain number of hours inside the house, but this leads to participants being unable to work multiple jobs to support themselves, a clear violation of their dignity.

For many FIPs in uncomfortable halfway houses, they cannot be placed in another house unless they break the rules of their existing house; some consider breaking the rules for the sake of their well-being, even though doing so might land them under even more restrictive supervision. One participant was refused permission to live in a camper that he could afford because the camper’s mobility posed a flight risk. Another participant broke the rules by traveling out of state because her son’s father had cancer, and a reentry professional later told her to return in a rather threatening way. The rules of reentry institutions thus incentivized FIPs to make very risky choices.
 

By highlighting socioemotional concepts — especially (in)dignity — as central to the experiences of formerly incarcerated persons, Slee shows how the rules and practices of reentry institutions can undermine reintegration. Addressing sources of vulnerability and counterproductive rules may help reform reentry institutions in more humane and effective ways.

Introduction

Generative AI has become an incredibly attractive and widespread tool for people across the world. Alongside its rapid growth, AI tools present a host of ethical challenges relating to consent, security, and privacy, among others. As Generative AI has been spearheaded primarily by large technology companies, these ethical challenges — especially as viewed from the vantage point of ordinary people — risk being overlooked for the sake of market competition and profit. What is needed, therefore, is a deeper understanding of and attention to how ordinary people perceive AI, including its costs and benefits.

The Meta Community Forum Results Analysis, authored by Samuel Chang, James S. Fishkin, Ricky Hernandez Marquez, Ayushi Kadakia, Alice Siu, and Robert Taylor, aims to address some of these challenges. A partnership between CDDRL’s Deliberative Democracy Lab and Meta, the forum enables participants to learn about and collectively reflect on AI. The impulse behind deliberative democracy is straightforward: people affected by some policy or program should have the right to communicate about its contents and to understand the reasons for its adoption. As Generative AI and the companies that produce it become increasingly powerful, democratic input becomes even more essential to ensure their accountability. 

Motivation & Takeaways

In October 2024, the third Meta Community Forum took place. Its importance derives from the advancements in Generative AI since October 2023, when the last round of deliberations was held. One such advancement is the move beyond AI chatbots to AI agents, which can solve more complex tasks and adapt in real-time to improve responses. A second advancement is that AI has become multimodal, moving beyond the generation of text and into images, video, and audio. These advancements raise new questions and challenges. As such, the third forum provided participants with the opportunity to deliberate on a range of policy proposals, organized around two key themes: how AI agents should interact with users and how they should provide proactive and personalized experiences for them.

To summarize some of the forum’s core findings: the majority of participants value transparency and consent in their interactions with AI agents as well as the security and privacy of their data. In turn, they are less comfortable with agents autonomously completing tasks if this is not transparent to them. Participants have a positive outlook on AI agents but want to have control over their interactions. Regarding the deliberations themselves, participants rated the forum highly and felt that it exposed them to alternative perspectives. The deliberators wanted to learn more about AI for themselves, which was evidenced by their increased use of these tools after the deliberations. Future reports will explore the reasoning and arguments that they used while deliberating.
 

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^{The participants of this Community Forum were representative samples of the general population from five countries - Turkey, Saudi Arabia, India, Nigeria, and South Africa. Participants from each country deliberated separately in English, Hindi, Turkish, or Arabic.}

Methodology & Data

The deliberations involved around 900 participants from five countries: India, Nigeria, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, and Turkey. Participants varied in terms of age, gender, education, and urbanicity. Because the deliberative groups were recruited independently, the forum can be seen as five independent deliberations. Deliberations alternated between small group discussions and ‘plenary sessions,’ where experts answered questions drawn from the small groups. There were around 1000 participants in the control group, who did pre- and post-surveys, but without deliberating. The participant sample was representative with respect to gender, while the treatment and control groups were balanced on demography as well as on their attitudes toward AI. Before deliberating on the proposals, participants were presented with background materials as well as a list of costs and benefits to consider.

In terms of the survey data, large majorities of participants had previously used AI. There was a statistically significant increase in these proportions after the forum. For example, in Turkey, usage rates increased from nearly 70% to 84%. In several countries, there were large increases in participants’ sense of AI’s positive benefits after deliberating, as well as a statistically significant increase in their interest. The deliberations changed participants’ opinions about a host of claims; for example, “people will feel less lonely with AI” and “more proactive [agents] are intrusive” lost approval whereas “AI agents’ capability to increase efficiency…is saving many companies a lot of time and resources” and “AI agents are helping people become more creative” gained approval. After deliberating, participants demonstrated an improved understanding of some factual aspects of AI, although the more technical aspects of this remain challenging. One example here is AI hallucinations, or rather, the generation of false or nonsensical outputs, usually because of flawed training data.
 

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Proposals

Participants deliberated on nineteen policy proposals. To summarize these briefly: In terms of whether and how AI remembers users’ past behaviors and preferences, participants preferred proposals that allowed users to make active choices, as opposed to this being a default setting or only being asked once. They also preferred being reminded about the ability of AI agents to personalize their experience, as well as agents being transparent with users about the tasks they complete. Participants preferred that users be educated on AI before using it, as well as being informed when AI is picking up on certain emotional cues and responding in “human-like” ways. They also preferred proposals whereby AI would ask clarifying questions before generating output. Finally, when it comes to agents helping users with real-life relationships, this was seen as more permissible when the other person was informed. Across the proposals, gender was neither a significant nor consistent determinant of how they were rated. Ultimately, the Meta Community Forum offers a model for how informed, public communication can shape AI and the ethical challenges it raises.

Argument & Key Findings

Data & Methods

OutRush is based on four waves of surveys. The report focuses on wave 4, conducted between July and November 2024. The nearly 8600 emigrants surveyed in wave 4 include prior respondents (i.e., to waves 1-3), those recruited through OutRush media partners like Telegram news channels, recipients of the link from friends, those who found the survey through social media, and emigrants who left Russia during an earlier period (2014-21). The survey work is complemented by interviews that add context and capture migrants’ lived experiences. Although survey respondents are not drawn at random, the study population is likely to be representative because Russian migrants across various demographics, such as gender, age, and education level, use social media or consume Telegram news.

The bulk of the report dives into specific issues:

Integration Into and Work Within Host Countries: One of the most comprehensive sections presents data on respondents’ experiences integrating socially, occupationally, and otherwise. Emigrants’ economic stability has improved, and reports of discrimination have declined. Meanwhile, legal instability, such as difficulties opening bank accounts or being granted asylum, has improved slightly but remains a significant concern. By contrast, trust in their host country governments has declined, mainly driven by concerns about political persecution and bureaucratic hurdles. Yet, processes of social integration appear to be increasingly successful: majorities of respondents are learning local languages, have a high level of trust in the host population, are engaged in local politics, and have three or more local acquaintances, despite primarily socializing with other Russians. Finally, the subjective well-being of migrants is improving.

In terms of occupation, a plurality of migrants work in information technology, about a fifth work in the sphere of arts, education, and media, and a small but growing number plan to start their own businesses. Emigrants have found entrepreneurship challenging due to factors such as high taxes and complex bureaucracies in their host countries.
 

Secondary Migration: Perhaps one of the most overlooked aspects of migration is its transient nature, as many individuals do not remain in the place where they first arrive. Indeed, over a fifth of respondents changed their country of residence, and nearly a third plan to do so within the next year. This is largely driven by discrimination or legal instability in their initial host countries. Serbia has become a key destination for secondary migration, attracting about a fifth of those who have left their initial destination. Much of this has to do with Serbia’s low levels of discrimination and its growing Russian-speaking community. 

Connections With and Plans to Return to Russia: Very few emigrants have returned or plan to do so in the short term. Of those who consider returning a possibility, doing so would largely depend upon military conscription becoming less likely and democratic reforms becoming more likely; as it stands, however, both of these scenarios appear quite distant. More than four out of five emigrants actively consume independent Russian media and stay in regular contact with their friends and family back home. Meanwhile, around two out of five consume English news, and about a quarter consume local media. Only a very small number are totally disengaged from politics or rely on Russian state propaganda. Yet large numbers of migrants fear persecution from the Russian government and their host states alike, especially given that many of their new homes are autocracies.

Political and Civic Activism: There continues to be high political interest in Russia. More than two out of five emigrants cast votes in the 2024 Russian presidential election. At the same time, overt political activism has declined, perhaps because of migrants’ perceived need to assimilate or because other challenges of migrant life have taken precedence. As mentioned above, large numbers are interested in the politics of their host countries. One of the most interesting findings concerns the large number of migrants — around three out of five — who are interested in the climate crisis. Their global focus overshadows their focus on environmental challenges specific to Russia or their host countries.

Implications & Prescriptions

The authors draw a number of conclusions from their interpretation of the survey data. Most centrally, Russian migrants are likely to remain in their host countries, that is, unless Russia undertakes meaningful change to its militarized, authoritarian status quo. As Russia pays a steep price, host countries gain considerably from one of the largest brain drains since the fall of the Soviet Union. At the same time, the authors call on host countries to rectify sources of legal and economic instability, including simplifying the process of legal emigration, encouraging entrepreneurship, and helping workers adapt to new labor markets. These prescriptions would not only ease the hardships faced by migrants but also create benefits for host countries.

Argument & Key Findings

Conditional cash transfers (CCTs) have been a widespread and effective tool in reducing poverty in Latin America. CCT programs transfer cash to the poor on the condition that recipients engage in beneficial behaviors, like enrolling their children in school, vaccinating them, or taking them to see a physician. CCTs aim to break the intergenerational cycle of poverty, especially among women. Indeed, women are central to CCTs as they are often responsible for children’s health and nutrition as well as ensuring that they remain enrolled in school.

Alberto Díaz-Cayeros reviews the scholarship on CCTs in Latin America, where much of that research had originated, shedding light on these programs’ workings and effects. Particular focus is given to how CCTs have helped overcome shortcomings of democratic systems, including ‘clientelism,’ broadly understood as the practice of politicians trading goods or services for votes. Despite CCTs’ broad success, challenges persist, especially regarding their use to mitigate poverty that is concentrated in rural areas as well as among indigenous and Afro-descendant peoples. The reader learns that CCTs are deeply interwoven with the behavior of politicians and the mobilization of social groups for political goals. CCTs are very malleable tools, having been adapted to the advent of COVID-19 when contagion and income loss were prevalent among the poor. CCTs have been one of the most rigorously evaluated interventions by social scientists. Most generally, they have reduced poverty, inequality, and infant mortality, while increasing school enrollment and nutrition.
 

Conceptualizing & Measuring Poverty

Díaz-Cayeros builds an incredibly rich historical overview of poverty in Latin America. This includes both its persistence and its dramatic decline in recent decades, CCTs having played a key role in the latter process. However, national-level declines obscure the wide disparities that persist at the subnational level and among historically marginalized communities. In addition, efforts (like CCTs) aimed at tackling poverty have often failed to address inequality, because social spending in Latin America has at times been regressive, i.e., taking resources from the poor and giving them to the middle and upper classes. Meanwhile, fiscal resources are often transferred to poor regional governments, as opposed to the individuals within them.

Poverty persists in part because of ‘poverty traps,’ a technical concept tied to factors like limited access to credit and education as well as poor health. These problems are especially pronounced in rural areas, which are often isolated from economic activity, lack the social mobility of cities, and tend to feature systemic exclusion along ethno-racial lines. The measurement of poverty has become increasingly sophisticated, moving beyond income to incorporate assets, basic needs, and geospatial data. The upshot of Díaz-Cayeros’ overview is that measurements of poverty, which any evaluation of CCTs must incorporate, often fail to account for poverty traps and their concentration among distinct groups in specific areas.

Background & Variation

Díaz-Cayeros examines the historical roots of CCTs, highlighting the role of 20th-century Latin American governments in replacing Catholic charities and philanthropists as the primary actors addressing poverty. These governments sought to target primarily urban poverty, owing to large-scale processes of internal migration, which moved workers away from agriculture and into factories and the informal economy. This helps explain the persistence of rural poverty. State social spending was undermined by the Latin American debt crises of the 1980s and 1990s, which disproportionately harmed the rural poor. The 2010s commodity boom enabled a re-expansion of social spending, although these programs continued to be insufficient to lift historically marginalized peoples out of poverty. The creation of CCTs by Mexican economist Santiago Levy in the 1990s can thus be placed against this backdrop of poverty, austerity, and labor market change.

CCTs have been widely adopted across Latin America by governments of different partisan leanings. One important determinant of this process has been fiscal constraint: because CCTs are relatively inexpensive, wealthier countries adopted them later. It should also be noted that effective CCTs depend on effective states, which provide, among other things, the hospitals and schools that recipients must utilize. By the mid-2020s, nearly 60 programs existed across Latin America, varying widely in terms of the share of beneficiaries of the total population. Countries that adopted CCTs early on do not necessarily have larger shares of beneficiaries, and larger shares don’t necessarily mean a given CCT is effectively helping the poor.
 

Clientelism & Democracy

One of the most important political aspects of CCTs is their potential resistance to ‘clientelism.’ What this means is that universal and automatic criteria for CCT recipients can limit the ability of politicians to trade particular benefits for votes. As such, CCTs have helped improve Latin American democracy, partly because politicians who ‘credit-claim’ for implementing CCTs can be more readily held accountable. On the ground, politicians still find ways to perpetuate clientelism, for example by manipulating the distribution of non-CCT goods like water cisterns. However, the broader implications of CCT are significant: as citizens’ cash needs are met, they can more meaningfully participate in the democratic process.
 

Future Research

Díaz-Cayeros posits an agenda for future research. These include: (1) the ways that continued discrimination against indigenous and Afro-descendant communities may require changes to the design of CCTs, (2) the ways that CCTs can be complemented by private charities and NGOs; the ways that expansions to CCT might bring Latin American governments closer to providing a universal basic income, and (3) the sources of Latin American citizens’ support for CCTs, whether owing to moral sensibilities, fear of deprivation, or otherwise. Ultimately, CCTs have been broadly successful and adaptable, improving both the economic standing and political efficacy of poor citizens. Their long-term success depends upon addressing the victims of systemic exclusion and intergenerational poverty.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

Argument & Key Findings

Hesham Sallam draws our attention to a surprising pattern: Egyptian Islamists and leftists have, for several generations, criticized each other on remarkably similar grounds. Their arguments have sometimes focused on Islam and left-wing political goals. But just as — if not more — frequently, they have focused on how each other’s agendas are inauthentic to Egyptian society and promoted to benefit foreign actors. It is true that the contents of their critiques have differed: Islamists denounce the left as betraying Egypt’s pure, Islamic nation while acting on behalf of “Zionists” or “western imperialists.” Meanwhile, leftists see Islamists as inauthentic to Egypt’s secular, pluralistic history, as well as advancing foreign interests. These differences notwithstanding, a common structure of political argument has been preserved across decades. 

The article introduces the history of Islamist-leftist debate in Egypt since the 1970s. Central to this history was the process of reappropriation: Islamists criticized the left, and the left responded by criticizing Islamists using more or less the same script. The study draws upon an array of Arabic sources likely unknown to readers outside of Egypt, including editorials, monographs, and public debates.

The Islamist Critique

The article first presents the intricacies of Egyptian Islamists’ critique of the left. There is a long history of Egyptian political elites denouncing left-wing politics as inauthentic and foreign. For example, Gamal Abdel-Nasser accused Egyptian communists of conspiring with Zionists and Soviets, while Anwar al-Sadat accused them of atheism and thus betraying Egypt’s Islamic essence. As leftists were repeatedly accused of disloyalty, nationalist ideas became even more dominant within leftist circles — this despite the historical suspicions of left-wing thinkers of nationalism as a distraction from class politics. The Egyptian case thus mirrors the trajectory of Europe’s internationalist labor movements during World War II, when leftist political goals were abandoned for state nationalism. In any case, the Islamist critique, which was led principally by the Muslim Brotherhood, regularly accused the left of foreign loyalties and a betrayal of Egyptian values. Over time, this critique was extended to secular Egyptians and deployed increasingly virulent language; for example, an academic critic of Islamism was denied promotion, ostensibly for his writings that were described by an Islamist detractor as “spreading cultural AIDS.” They also drew on prominent social science frameworks like Samuel Huntington’s “Clash of Civilizations”: Egypt’s authentic Islamic nation was seen as pitted in an irresolvable clash against the atheistic West, which, they alleged, was simultaneously funding the Egyptian left. These are just a few of the examples Sallam uses to show how Islamists portrayed the left as inauthentic and disloyal, undermining its legitimacy in Egyptian politics.
 

The Leftist Critique

Sallam next shows us how the left struck back at their Islamist foes. A key process in this history concerns the Hosni Mubarak regime’s co-optation of influential leftists into the state’s cultural institutions. This occurred as a response to the Muslim Brotherhood’s electoral successes in the 1980s. Coincident with these institutional changes, leftists began appropriating the authenticity critique. They claimed that Islamists were engaged not in building a pure Islamic state and society, but in a narrow project meant to advance their own political standing. Rejecting the Islamist critique of them as atheists, leftists accused their opponents of weaponizing Islam and betraying its true essence. They rejected the distinction between so-called violent and nonviolent Islamism, on the grounds that nonviolent Islamists still were willing to justify violence. Islamists were said to be working on behalf of foreign interests like Sudanese president Omar Al-Bashir, whose designs on Egyptian territory went unnoticed by Islamists. The Brotherhood was deemed a cult-like vehicle for indoctrinating and promoting foreign goals, especially those of the Gulf. Far from authentic to Egyptian society, Islamists were seen as holding Egyptian Muslims in contempt for their alleged heresies. And in one of the most surprising appropriations, leftists claimed that Islamists were in fact quite similar to both Zionists and imperialists: all three sought to dominate the Middle East through sectarian politics. The Brotherhood’s Egyptian constitution was denigrated for being indistinguishable from versions published in Europe and Pakistan. Especially inauthentic to Egyptian society was the Brotherhood’s view of religious minorities as second-class citizens; this was deemed a fundamental betrayal of Egypt’s national essence, namely secular pluralism. These counter-critiques helped the left frame itself as the true guardian of the Egyptian nation.
 

Beyond Speech

Importantly, the Islamist-leftist debates were not mere rhetoric, but served as a basis for political action, especially when it came to questions of cooperation. For example, after the Islamist critic Farag Foda was assassinated, the so-called ‘moderate’ Islamist Mohamed Al-Ghazali defended his assassins; some leftists used these events to justify their refusal to cooperate with Islamists. More generally, they argued that Islamists’ quest for a religious state would only lead to political violence and exclusion, further grounds to reject compromise. Yet claims about authenticity and nationalism were also used to justify cooperation, as when leftists argued that both they and the Brotherhood were natural allies in the fight against foreign imperialism and Zionism. It is not clear whether a less confrontational approach would have helped Islamists and leftists cooperate against Egypt’s successive dictators, but their divisive rhetoric almost certainly did not help matters.
 

Contributions

The article will help readers understand why Egyptian politics has become increasingly marked by groups’ ‘affective’ hatreds for one another, as opposed to normal political disagreements. By weaving the themes of treason and inauthenticity through decades of history, Sallam shows us why this new status quo is not surprising. Affective polarization has led many Egyptians to view their opponents as unworthy of political inclusion, consistent with the rise of a global populism that emphasizes “us vs. them” distinctions. Sallam fleshes this out by relaying the different responses among leftists and Islamists to Egypt’s 2013 military coup, which ousted the Brotherhood leader Morsi. Leftists called the coup a necessary evil to counter foreign influences seeking to establish an Islamic state, while Islamists accused the left of being sponsored by the West. 

Readers will see the conflict between Islamists and leftists as not just fleeting moments of political disagreement, but a generations-long battle for domination in the realm of ideas.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.