Ukraine faces decisive months ahead as key allies gear up for crunch elections. While early presidential campaigning in the US and a looming general election in Poland will grab the international headlines, a snap election in Slovakia on 30 September may prove every bit as consequential. 

With Robert Fico — Slovakia’s former prime minister and one of the West’s most outspoken critics of the Ukrainian war effort — poised to win the vote, a change of government in Bratislava could have a profound effect on EU policymaking. Fico has promised that if his party makes it into government “we will not send a single bullet to Ukraine,” proudly proclaiming that “I allow myself to have a different opinion to that of the United States” on the war.  

Fico has also claimed on the campaign trail that “war always comes from the West and peace from the East,” and that “what is happening today is unnecessary killing, it is the emptying of warehouses to force countries to buy more American weapons.” Such statements have resulted in him being blacklisted by Kyiv as a spreader of Russian propaganda.  

Yet the former prime minister spearheads a new brand of Left-wing, anti-American populism that has become a powerful force in Central Europe since the war began. Perceptions that “the Americans occupy us” — as one MP in Fico’s Smer party evocatively put it — are shared with a similar groundswell of anti-Western opinion in the neighbouring Czech Republic.  

Yet Smer has been handed a chance to gain power thanks to the chaos which has engulfed Slovakia’s pro-EU, pro-Western forces. Personal grievances coupled with serious policy errors tore apart a four-party coalition formed after elections in 2020, leaving Fico to capitalise on heightened mistrust in establishment politics. Smer is expected to become the nation’s largest party after this month’s election, with an anticipated 20% of the vote.  

Whatever the specific makeup of the new government, if Smer is the largest party it will likely pursue a foreign policy similar to that of Viktor Orbán’s government in Hungary. A halt to until-now generous Slovak arms shipments to Ukraine is Fico’s central electoral pledge, while the arrival on the scene of another Orbán-style government prepared to obstruct EU aid efforts for Ukraine would create a serious headache. That is particularly the case as Brussels struggles to win support for both short and long-term war funding commitments. 

Victory for Fico would also amplify Orbán’s scepticism about the overall Western narrative on Ukraine — a scepticism which the Hungarian Prime Minister recently conveyed to Western conservatives during an interview with Tucker Carlson. Orbán portrayed Ukraine’s attempts to win back the territories taken by Russia as ultimately hopeless and claimed that Donald Trump’s promise to end the war quickly makes him “the man who can save the Western world”. 

Like Trump in America and Orbán in Europe, Fico is hated with a passion by establishment forces. But in Slovakia, the pro-Western establishment itself has become so mistrusted that power may soon pass to a man intent on shattering what’s left of European unity on Ukraine. 

Ibram X. Kendi’s Guardian interview published on Monday, tied to his new book Chain of Ideas, offers a disturbing vision: in 20 years, much of the world could fall under the sway of racist dictatorships unless we choose “antiracist democracy” over fear-driven authoritarianism. The Great Replacement theory — elites importing non-white immigrants to displace white populations — serves as the refurbished ideological engine, linking Donald Trump, Viktor Orbán, Narendra Modi, and even Nazi iterations. Fear of strangers, Kendi insists, fuels this progression of racism, in which overt racial language gives way to cultural and demographic panic. The choice, he argues, remains binary: one must choose either antiracism or racist dictatorship. Neutrality is impossible.

Has Kendi adapted his analysis since the fractious summer of 2020? Not in any fundamental way. His overarching framework — racist ideas generate racist policies, which in turn produce racial disparities, leaving little room for neutrality — remains largely intact. The argument’s global scope and historical genealogy have evolved, tracing the “Great Replacement” back through post-Nazi ideological mutations. Yet, for Kendi, disparities are still presumptive proof of systemic racism; concern about immigration or cultural cohesion is manipulation by fearmongers serving oligarchs. While he acknowledges his Boston University-based Center for Antiracist Research’s closure last year amid funding collapse and controversy, he wrongly frames its failure as evidence of a strong backlash, rather than as a sign that his original approach was faulty.

This rigidity, rather than being incidental, is symptomatic of a deeper shift in the way too many Americans — and increasingly others — have come to think about racial disparities. The civil rights era framed racial inequality as a betrayal of shared ideals: that America had forsaken its creed of equal protection and opportunity. The remedy, largely successful, was inclusion within a common national project. Those older anti-racism critiques were fierce but aspirational, preserving moral agency and civic solidarity. Black Americans, according to this view, were rightful heirs to the American inheritance, not perpetual outsiders demanding repudiation of their nation’s founding.

Kendi’s unchanging Weltanschauung exemplifies a different posture: racial inequality is evidence of structural illegitimacy. For him, the problem is not that the nation’s ideals are imperfectly realized; rather, those very ideals are taken to be instruments of domination. Disparities — whether in crime, education, or family structure — are attributed by default to systemic oppression. Explanations that invoke behavior, norms, incentives, or communal lethargy are dismissed as victim-blaming. Agency is externalized; reforming energy flows outward towards dismantling “the system,” not inward towards self-examination and development.

This shift matters profoundly. A society that treats every racial gap as prima facie discrimination narrows analytic space, discouraging nuance. It undermines cohesion by framing the nation as fundamentally corrupt rather than struggling toward renewal. It incentivizes moral intimidation over debate, narrowing pluralism in institutions. And it weakens the very agency essential for progress. No community thrives if taught that outcomes are overwhelmingly determined externally, with internal effort secondary or suspect.

Kendi’s latest interview reflects this hardened tone. Immigrants commit fewer crimes overall, he notes; demographic change is arithmetic, not conspiracy. Yet he pathologizes native concerns about cohesion, wage effects, and parallel societies as fear-driven racism, offering no serious engagement with cultural or behavioral factors that help explain inter-group tensions and differential outcomes. This binary leaves no middle ground for citizens to voice legitimate anxieties without being cast as enablers of dictatorship.

In 2026, with DEI retreating and ordinary people rejecting perpetual guilt, Kendi’s argument feels less like adaptation than entrenchment. He has learned little over the past half-decade, it would appear. Indeed, he’s forgotten one of the key lessons of America’s racial history. Whereas the earlier civil rights vision balanced indictment with belonging, demanding change while affirming shared citizenship, Kendi’s latter-day version exchanges aspiration for repudiation, agency for determinism. Time is short. We cannot afford such diversions. A healthier conversation would be more balanced, naming injustices without forfeiting faith in a common moral project. Otherwise, we weaken the civic foundations that make real reform possible.

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Glenn Loury, an UnHerd columnist, is an economist, academic and author.

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