Ebrahim Raisi, a hardline conservative, is widely predicted to be elected as Iranian President Hassan Rouhani’s successor in elections scheduled for 18 June.

But the vote won’t just determine the country’s next president; it’s also seen as part of a contest to determine Iran’s next supreme leader.

Raisi’s likely win follows the controversial disqualification on 25 May of all competitive centrist and reformist/moderate presidential candidates by Iran’s electoral gatekeeper, the Guardian Council. Of the approximately 600 candidates, the council announced that only seven met the qualifications for office detailed in section 115 of Iran’s constitution. Five are conservatives and two are reformists/moderates. Because presidents are constitutionally limited to two consecutive four-year terms, Rouhani was ineligible to seek re-election.

Raisi, 61, from Mashhad in Iran’s northeast, is the stand-out candidate. He’s well known nationally and is popular among hardline conservatives. A long-time prosecutor, he was appointed chief justice in 2019. He’s a member of the Assembly of Experts and was attorney-general from 2014 to 2016. He has also served as chairman of the Astan Quds Razavi, a non-profit multibillion-dollar religious-cum-business and charity conglomerate (bonyad) based at Mashhad.

Raisi was Rouhani’s major competitor and runner-up in the 2017 presidential election, which drew a high turnout of 73% or 41.3 million of Iran’s 56.4 million eligible voters. Although Raisi lost, he attained a credible 38% of the vote versus Rouhani’s 58%.

Raisi’s nearest non-conservative rival is Mohsen Mehralizadeh, 64, a reformist and ethnic Azerbaijani from Isfahan in central Iran. He was vice president from 2001 to 2005 and is a former governor of Khorasan province. He contested the 2005 presidential election, but came last with 4.4% of the vote. He was seen then, as now, as a relatively weak candidate.

The council’s disqualification of competitive candidates, without giving reasons, was strongly criticised by non-conservatives. Rouhani was one of those who appealed to Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei to include at least one strong non-conservative candidate to ensure a competitive election, but the pleas were rejected. This prompted activist Faezeh Hashemi, daughter of popular former president Hashemi Rafsanjani, to state in an interview, ‘This is no longer an election, it’s an appointment.’

The two most popular non-conservative disqualified candidates were Ali Larijani, a former conservative but now centrist, and reformist Eshaq Jahangiri.

Larijani, aged 64, is seen as the stronger of the two, appealing to both conservatives and some moderates. He is a member of the Expediency Council, and until 2020 was a member and speaker of parliament. He has also served as minister of culture and Islamic guidance and as head of state broadcasting. He retired as a brigadier general of the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps in 1992. Like Mehralizadeh, he stood as a candidate in the 2005 presidential election; he came sixth with 5.9% of the vote.

Larijani also comes from a political family. A younger brother, Sadeq (Amoli) Larijani, is a hardline conservative, current chairman of the Expediency Council and member of the Assembly of Experts. He was chief justice immediately prior to Raisi and is a former member of the Guardian Council. He also publicly expressed concerns about the disqualification of his brother.

Eshaq Jahangiri, 63, has served as Rouhani’s first vice president since 2013. His previous appointments include minister of industries and mines, governor of Isfahan and member of parliament.

It’s generally assumed that the council’s list of approved candidates was drafted in response to ‘guidance’ by Khamenei, who wants Raisi as his next president. Local media has speculated that Khamenei is using the presidential election to assist with determining his successor as supreme leader. Khamenei, 82, is reportedly not in good health and a succession plan has become a priority.

Raisi is one possibility to succeed Khamenei, and Ali Larijani is another. While Larijani has demonstrated his potential leadership capabilities through his various appointments, Raisi hasn’t yet done so and his performance as president could be an important test.

Raisi’s tenure as president, if he’s elected, is likely to be controversial. The first marker will be voter turnout at the election. If, as speculated, there’s a low turnout due to a boycott by many reformists/moderates, that will reflect on Raisi’s appeal.

He’s also likely to lack appeal among Iran’s ‘progressives’, with his background suggesting he’d oppose any liberalisation of society that would clash with his strong views on traditional Islamic values.

Raisi is also unlikely to tolerate active political or other dissidence, especially if it challenges the regime’s authority. As a prosecutor, he is said to have been involved in events leading to the execution of thousands of detained dissidents in 1988. He was also involved in the suppression of dissidents generally in the 1980s and has been accused of failing to bring to justice security force members who used lethal force to suppress demonstrations against electoral fraud in 2009 and economic hardship in 2019.

These and other factors have contributed to both the European Union and the United States imposing sanctions on Raisi and others, including Amoli Larijarni, for human rights abuses, which would complicate relations if he wins.

Two of Raisi’s key campaign issues are reviving the economy and fighting corruption. US negotiations with Iran on the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action will be critical to the economy. If the US rejoins the agreement, many sanctions will be lifted, providing some immediate economic and financial relief to Iran.

But if that doesn’t happen before Rouhani leaves office, Raisi or the US might seek to vary the agreement’s conditions. It would be in Raisi’s political and economic interests to quickly seal a deal with the US.

Raisi has already commenced his anti-corruption campaign from his present judiciary post. That corruption is endemic in Iran is not in question. It was ranked 149th out of 180 in Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index in 2020.

One of Raisi’s early targets was his predecessor, Amoli Larijani. While allegations are unresolved, this has been seen as a politically motivated attempt by Raisi to tarnish the Larijani name, especially that of his rival, Ali Larijani. Politics in Iran, as anywhere, can be brutal.

If elected, Raisi faces a bumpy road.

Will the European Parliament elections this May result in a political revolution? Populist and nationalist parties certainly hope so. They are promising not just to overturn the Brussels establishment, but also to end the free movement of people, lift sanctions against Russia, abandon NATO, eschew future trade deals, reverse policies to combat climate change, and abolish gay marriage.

Many of these ideas have long been included in Euroskeptic fringe parties’ election programs. But a major survey of the EU’s 27 national political theatres, led by Susi Dennison and Pawel Zerka of the European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR), which will be published next week, shows that voters could be more responsive to such proposals this year than in the past.

European elections have tended to be national, low-turnout and low-stakes affairs. But those days are over. The campaign season has already become a transnational, pan-European event. While the American populist agitator Steve Bannon is attempting to build a coalition of right-wing nationalist governments, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and Italian Deputy Prime Minister Matteo Salvini have forged a populist alliance that marries the anti-austerity left with the anti-migration right. Orbán and Salvini’s goal is to capture EU institutions and reverse European integration from within. They envision nothing less than a re-founding of the West on illiberal values.

Moreover, voter turnout this year will most likely be far higher than the usual 20–40%. Just as the Brexiteers managed to mobilise three million Britons who generally abstain from voting, continental populists could attract Europeans who feel that mainstream parties have forgotten about them. If these voters turn out while supporters of moderate leaders like German Chancellor Angela Merkel and French President Emmanuel Macron stay home, populist parties could significantly outperform current polls.

The ECFR study finds that even with a parliamentary minority, a Euroskeptic party grouping could severely curtail the EU’s ability to address voters’ concerns, as well as threats to its fundamental governing principles. For example, with just one-third of parliamentary seats, populists could block sanctions against member states that violate EU rules and the rule of law. The EU is currently pursuing such measures against both the Law and Justice (PiS) party’s government in Poland and Orbán’s government in Hungary.

Populist insurgents could also derail EU budget negotiations, and even precipitate an EU ‘government shutdown’, by preventing the 2021–2027 Multiannual Financial Framework if they garner an absolute majority. With a blocking minority or control of certain parliamentary committees, Euroskeptics might also be able to stand in the way of international trade deals and appointments to the European Commission.

Populists who win parliamentary seats will also be eager to weaken EU foreign policy, either through the power of the purse or through amendments to policy resolutions. Given that many European populist parties have financial ties to the Kremlin, the goal will be to water down sanctions against Russia. Beyond that, populists also seek to frustrate environmental policy efforts such as the Paris climate agreement.

The risk, then, is not so much that populists will capture a parliamentary majority and overturn everything on day one, but that they will have some representation in the European Commission and secure a large enough minority to bring EU policymaking to a crawl. That, in turn, will prevent the enforcement of EU rules, strengthen nationalist governments and further undermine European voters’ confidence in EU governing institutions. The illiberal governments in Budapest, Warsaw and Rome would be free to violate EU rules with impunity.

In addition, the European Parliament elections coincide with a widespread political realignment within EU member states. Thus, for populists and moderates alike, electoral success in May could translate into success at the national level. Estonia and Slovakia will hold general elections before the European Parliament elections, and Belgium and Denmark will hold elections later in the year. In each case, populist parties could ascend to power as coalition partners.

Making matters worse, pro-European parties appear to be falling into the trap laid by these anti-European parties. Across Europe, liberals, Greens and many left-wing parties are approaching the election as a fight between cosmopolitans and communitarians—between globalism and patriotism. This political framing is more likely to help the insurgent Euroskeptics than anyone else.

Nothing is lost yet. But to avoid a rout, pro-Europeans must stop behaving in ways that confirm the populists’ stereotypes of them as supporters of the status quo in Brussels. That means offering an up-front, honest critique of the EU’s shortcomings while avoiding the wrong kind of polarisation, particularly on issues on which they don’t have the support of a clear majority.

At the same time, pro-Europeans need to start deploying ‘wedge’ issues of their own. For example, on the crucial question of migration, it’s clear that Orbán’s and Salvini’s interests are not even particularly aligned. While Orbán wants to keep all migrants out, Salvini has called for asylum seekers arriving in Italy to be distributed throughout the EU. Pro-Europeans should be pointing out these contradictions to voters in Hungary and Italy.

Putting aside his other current difficulties, Macron at least is aware of the populist trap. In his speech last November commemorating Armistice Day, he described patriotism as the opposite of nationalism, thus repudiating the narrative that true patriots oppose ‘globalists’. But he has done little to show how his politics can make ‘left-behind voters’ feel safe from globalisation and European integration.

In theory, at least, Macronism still represents the best pro-European alternative to atavistic nationalism. But to avert a populist revolution in May, Macron and other leaders will have to reach beyond their own close circles of cosmopolitan elites. Otherwise, they will have fallen into the Euroskeptics’ trap.

East Timor held its fourth parliamentary election in May 2018. Kay Rala ‘Xanana’ Gusmão’s newly minted coalition, the Change for Progress Alliance (AMP), comfortably defeated the Revolutionary Front of Independent East Timor (FRETILIN), ending months of political crisis.

The AMP comprises three parties: Gusmão’s old party, the National Congress for Timorese Reconstruction (CNRT); the People’s Liberation Movement (PLP); and Enrich the National Unity of the Sons of Timor (KHUNTO).

In the 2017 elections, the PLP’s strident anti-corruption campaign narrative—squarely aimed at Gusmão’s government—had raised observers’ hopes of a new policy-driven, progressive era in Timorese politics. But then the PLP joined the CNRT to contest the 2018 elections. If corruption was an issue in the 2017 election, it wasn’t in this one.

Yet there are many who still hope that the PLP’s influence might constrain some of Gusmão’s more extravagant projects and persuade him to pay more attention to vital sectors such as health, education and agriculture. Others have even speculated that the anti-corruption stance of the PLP’s leader, the newly appointed prime minister and former guerrilla commander José Maria Vasconcelos (popularly known as Taur Matan Ruak), may lead to confrontation with Gusmão, precipitating the breakup of the coalition and new elections.

That may be wishful thinking. There are three largely overlooked but important factors to consider when analysing East Timor’s politics.

One is that rhetoric about corruption is not all that it seems. Beyond a tertiary educated Dili elite, corruption is commonly interpreted as other people getting things that you’re not. That interpretation was cynically exploited by many party campaigners in the 2017 election, who promised to widen access to government pensions or scholarships, implying that governing party supporters received preferential treatment.

Another factor is the nature of the PLP’s support base. Talking to the core of loyal young, urban and educated activists who drove Vasconcelos’ presidential campaign and the PLP’s 2017 parliamentary election campaign, it’s hard not to be impressed by their passion for social justice and clean government. This is the public face of the PLP.

Yet the PLP also received about 40% of its vote in Vasconcelos’ rural birthplace of Baucau municipality. Apart from blood ties, he also commands the loyalty of a powerful and extensive veterans’ network in that region. The network has consistently delivered a large slice of the vote to Gusmão, then to the PLP and now to the AMP, so the anti-corruption narrative plays little part in this base of support. This support came at a cost, however, in terms of an exponential rise in veterans’ pensions as well as lucrative state construction contracts.

This relates in turn to the third factor: networks are everything in East Timor’s politics. Policy in East Timor, at least under Gusmão’s administration, is driven less by party caucus–style debate than by a more informal process. Anodyne campaign rhetoric about issues such as corruption counts for little in winning votes. People want a new village hall, for example, scholarships for their kids or to get on one of the many pensions currently blowing out the budget.

While unswerving resistance-era loyalties still decide a considerable chunk of the vote, many people are highly pragmatic. They will follow the political preference of the person or people they think will deliver direct benefits. Typically, these are local leaders such as village chiefs, who act as brokers between their communities and the state. Such brokers can amass a substantial following and potential voting bloc, and so are in a position to bargain. They may change party preference more than once as a result. So while voting patterns at a regional or even municipal level are fairly consistent between the major parties, at a village or sub-village level it’s more fluid, with some villages changing hands at every election. That is where elections are won or lost. Recruiting these brokers, then, is critical to winning elections in East Timor.

Campaigning also costs a lot of money. Party donors must be found and they expect a quid pro quo, and that’s what happened after the 2012 election. A range of lavish mega-projects awarded to party donors were embarked on with little regard for due process, feasibility or social benefit.

These are the dynamics that not only drive government spending, but also shape the composition of government. Aptitude, qualifications and experience help, but are by no means a guarantee of a cabinet position. Loyalty to Gusmão, bringing in campaign cash and mobilising votes are still leading criteria. This is why East Timor doesn’t always get a government of the willing and able, or policy that’s driven by the public good.

The new cabinet is a case in point. The president, Francisco Guterres (popularly known as Lú-Olo), has vetoed a proposed list of cabinet members as it contained 11 figures who are being investigated for, are facing, or have been convicted of corruption charges. While some have optimistically speculated that the action was instigated by Vasconselos, that’s unlikely. As prime minister, it’s hard to believe that he didn’t see this list and approve it before it was submitted. In any case, after the protracted political standoff since the last election, FRETILIN needs no encouragement to inconvenience Gusmão—the gloves are off.

Vasconselos’ own integrity is not in dispute. Time will tell whether his integrity will be able to find expression in the current governing arrangement. But for the moment, pragmatism, not principle, may offer a more useful guide to understanding East Timor’s future political and economic trajectory.

On 26 October 2015, East Timor’s Audit Chamber vetoed the largest contract in the country’s history—worth US$719 million dollars—for ‘non-compliance with basic standards in force in Timor-Leste’. This contract was part of a highly ambitious ‘resource corridor’ intended to span the country’s entire south coast.

That a project of this magnitude didn’t go through the most basic due diligence checks is significant for what it tells us about the East Timorese government’s current political and economic trajectory.

While a number of recent political developments have generated considerable discussion, the increasing centralisation of power is a constant undercurrent. In early 2015, the incumbent Prime Minister, Kay Rala ‘Xanana’ Gusmão, stepped down and appointed former Frente Revolucionária de Timor-Leste Independente (FRETILIN) Health Minister Dr Rui Maria de Araújo in his place, and a number of other FRETILIN members to key roles and positions.

While that move took most observers by surprise, it had long been rumoured. In some respects it’s a welcome rapprochement. Personal enmity between Gusmão and the leader of FRETILIN, Mari Alkatiri, was one of the key drivers of the 2006 violence. Elections became a bitter theatre for historical enmities between the two camps thereafter. De Araújo is also widely respected as a competent technocrat and there are indications he’s embarked on a modest reform mission in the civil service.

It isn’t such a victory for democracy. East Timor’s governance system was already highly centralised before this new arrangement. Major spending decisions were made by Gusmão and a small coterie of unelected confidantes, largely bypassing any regulatory oversight.

Now, rather than stepping aside as such a move would suggest, Gusmão has actually increased his control. His new self-designed role as Minister of Planning and Strategic Investment retains almost total power over the capital budget, embracing all major infrastructure planning and investment and oversight of the two main regulatory bodies.

The incorporation of senior FRETILIN leaders into government posts has also removed the only effective source of opposition. With Ministerial appointments filled by Gusmão loyalists, there are currently few sources of dissent—the National Parliament, for example, unanimously approved the last budget.

A new president has also just been elected, the FRETILIN member Francisco Guterres ‘Lu-Olo’, but his success can be clearly attributed to Gusmão’s endorsement. Guterres was quick to indicate that he won’t rock the boat. Gusmão remains the unofficial president, albeit with executive powers not detailed anywhere in the Constitution.

Such a centralisation of power has far reaching implications. The government has embarked on a raft of ambitious but increasingly controversial mega-projects. One is the south coast project, which includes an autobahn-like highway, a refinery, an airport and dedicated port—with the ill-fated sea wall. In the isolated Oecusse enclave, construction for a Special Zone for Social Market Economy (ZEESM) (headed by Alkatiri) is already well underway. Drastically under costed and with little regard for detailed feasibility studies, those projects have the potential to bankrupt the state.

The Tase Mane project, for example, is premised on Timor winning the majority of the Greater Sunrise gas field. Without the skilled workforce or extant industrial sector to benefit from such a massive investment, the economic justification alone is so tenuous this investment should never have been countenanced. Given the likelihood that Greater Sunrise may not be developed for at least ten years—if at all—and, that Timor is by no means guaranteed a lion’s share of that field under current median line negotiations, Tase Mane should be shelved indefinitely.

According to local NGO La’o Hamutuk, the Oecusse ZEESM project has already received almost $500 million in public funds over the last three years. While its project documents list a range of risible fantasies such as a ‘Centre for Excellence in Ethical Investment’, the centerpiece of this project is a planned light manufacturing hub. A 2016 World Bank report commissioned by the ZEESM Authority comprehensively rebutted government feasibility arguments.

Oecusse isn’t on an international shipping route, for example, and it’s highly unlikely that the enclave will ever generate sufficient industrial output to change that. This fact in itself should be enough to stop the project in its tracks. As with the South Coast project, investors have not been queuing up. Nonetheless, work continues, for example, on construction for a planned international airport. Where the passengers will come from is unknown, but like many other such ventures, economic or development outcomes seem to be a distant secondary consideration.

In July this year, East Timor will go into its third full parliamentary election. Despite a strong challenge from the nascent reform-minded People’s Liberation Party, the dominance of Gusmão’s Congresso Nacional da Reconstrução Timorense (CNRT) and FRETILIN is unlikely to change. Neither, therefore, is the nation’s current spending regime.

Petroleum revenues are estimated to end around 2021, yet the government has consistently withdrawn funds from the Petroleum Fund at more than a sustainable rate. As a consequence, East Timor is likely to run out of money within the next decade.

An Australian academic recently drew a vitriolic response from East Timor’s former President, Jose Ramos Horta, for her statement that East Timor may be architects of their own demise. Unless current spending trends are reversed, however, this isn’t a matter of opinion, but a mathematical certainty.