Democracy worldwide is under pressure. Recent measures show a large share of the global population now lives in countries that are becoming more authoritarian, and democratic norms have declined to levels not seen since the late 1970s. At the same time, economic integration and liberalization have continued to spread—an outcome many experts once expected would encourage political liberalization. Yet in practice, many regimes that opened their economies became more, not less, repressive.
Arizona State University political scientist Jose Kaire explores this puzzle in his book The Road to Repression. The familiar argument went like this: if you reduce the state’s direct control over jobs, credit and enterprise through privatization, deregulation, and trade, people will be less dependent on the regime. That economic autonomy should make it easier for citizens and emergent business classes to organize, challenge rulers and push for political freedoms. That line of thinking informed the Washington Consensus and influenced policymakers and scholars for decades.
But the historical record is mixed. Kaire documents cases—Mexico, Malaysia and Senegal among them—where economic opening coincided with an uptick in human-rights abuses. In roughly half of the autocracies that liberalized, a similar pattern appears. Why would policies intended to weaken authoritarian rule sometimes strengthen repression?
Kaire’s answer centers on the politics of regime insiders: party officials, military officers and other elite actors who control key state resources. For these insiders, economic liberalization is not only an economic policy; it is a political threat. Opening markets can empower outsiders—new entrepreneurs, opposition figures, or alternative economic actors—who could over time erode the entrenched privileges of the old guard.
Leaders who push reforms therefore face a dilemma. They may want the growth, investment and international approval that come with liberalization, but they cannot afford to alienate powerful insiders whose support is critical for survival. When elites are strong relative to the ruler, leaders often respond by assuring those insiders that their position will be defended. One effective way to signal loyalty to the elite is through repression of potential challengers: cracking down on opposition, social movements or independent civil society not only silences dissent but demonstrates to insiders that the leader protects their interests.
Seen this way, repression functions as elite management as much as it does censorship. It helps preserve the ruling coalition’s internal balance while allowing the state to deliver the economic opening demanded by foreign creditors, investors or international institutions. Kaire traces how Mexican presidents, for example, used harsher tactics against previously tolerated opposition groups after economic reforms threatened the ruling party’s internal equilibrium.
This logic also helps explain why outside pressure for economic reform—from major powers or international organizations—does not automatically improve rights. Leaders can comply with economic requirements while intensifying political control to keep elites satisfied. In other words, liberalization under external pressure can reduce the state’s role in the economy without loosening its grip on politics.
How does this framework apply to contemporary Cuba and Venezuela? The key variable is the relative strength of regime elites versus the leader. In Cuba, institutional reforms in recent years strengthened the party and expanded the military’s economic role, creating a more autonomous elite bloc. That shift increases the risk that further market-oriented moves will be accompanied by stricter repression to reassure insiders—something observers have already begun to see.
Venezuela’s trajectory is less settled but potentially similar. Recent external interventions and leadership disruptions may give regime insiders room to assert greater independence. If they do, opening parts of the economy could again produce pressures for repression as leaders seek to stabilize elite support.
Kaire’s research began from a personal anecdote—stories his father told about how automobile industry reforms affected a Mexican factory—but the pattern proved broader than the initial, local case. Statistical analysis in the book suggests the phenomenon is common among liberalizing autocracies.
An extension of the argument concerns leaders who fear international criminal accountability. Those rulers may be especially inclined to protect their position at all costs, placating elites through repressive measures to avoid losing power and facing prosecution.
The dynamics also extend to new sources of wealth and influence. Technological sectors—artificial intelligence among them—can reshape elite competition. China illustrates a different response: rather than allowing an independent tech elite to emerge, the leadership has tightly centralized control over strategic AI development, bringing key firms and resources under party oversight while disciplining entrepreneurs who veer too far afield. If new industries produce elites whose power depends on the leader, that can alter the balance between leader and insiders and influence whether liberalization increases or decreases repression.
In short, whether opening an economy leads to greater political freedom depends on who gains and who fears losing power inside the regime. Where reforms threaten entrenched insiders and the leader needs their backing, repression can rise as a tool to manage elite competition. That helps explain why international calls for market reforms have not uniformly translated into democratization—and why, in many cases, they have coincided with a harder political line.
Jose Kaire is a professor of political science who examines how shifts in economic structure interact with authoritarian politics. This summary is based on his analysis of why economic liberalization sometimes deepens repression rather than delivering political liberalization.
