Democracy worldwide looks fragile. Recent measurements show a large share of the global population now lives in countries that are autocratizing — moving toward greater authoritarianism — and many of those regimes are becoming more repressive even as their economies open to trade and investment.

That trend contradicts a once-common expectation. For decades many scholars and policymakers argued that economic liberalization — privatizing state firms, deregulating markets and reducing dependence on the state for jobs and credit — would weaken authoritarian rulers. The idea was simple: if citizens and businesspeople no longer depend on the regime for economic survival, they would be freer to organize, mobilize and press for political rights. This belief shaped major policy prescriptions known as the Washington Consensus.

But the actual experience of many countries has been messier. A substantial share of autocracies that opened their economies later tightened political control and increased human rights abuses. Mexico, Malaysia and Senegal are among the cases where liberalization coincided with more repression. Why would policies intended to limit state power sometimes make authoritarian rule harsher?

A different explanation focuses on the political calculus of regime insiders: party officials, military officers and other elites who control the state. For these actors, economic liberalization is not just an economic shift; it is a political threat. Opening markets can create new centers of independence — an emergent business class, autonomous technocrats, or external economic partners — that might erode the old guard’s access to rents, appointments and influence.

Leaders who push or accept liberalization risk alienating these entrenched elites. In many autocracies the ruler’s survival depends on elite support to prevent coups or intra-coalition challenges. When elites are strong enough to make credible demands, a leader who threatens their interests must find ways to placate them. One commonly available tool is repression.

Repression serves several political purposes in this context. It signals to insiders that the leader remains committed to defending their privileges; it suppresses opposition forces or potential challengers who might exploit newly liberalized economic spaces; and it helps manage elite competition without reversing the economic policies demanded by international lenders and investors. In short, repression becomes a bargaining instrument inside the regime — not merely a response to dissent but a way to preserve elite cohesion while complying with external economic pressures.

The effect depends on the balance of power between the leader and elites. When elites are strong, liberalization tends to produce more repression because leaders must reassure insiders. When elites are weak, leaders have more room to liberalize without using coercion to the same degree.

This logic helps explain contemporary cases like Cuba and Venezuela. In Cuba the party and military gained greater autonomy in recent years, securing economic roles that reduce their dependence on a single leader. That expansion of elite power makes further economic opening riskier for political freedoms: leaders may crack down on dissent to protect elite interests. In Venezuela, shifts in elite influence following political shocks could likewise steer economic reform toward greater repression if insiders consolidate autonomy.

Two other dynamics amplify this pattern. One is international pressure: leaders who fear prosecution or punishment by outside actors — for example, in international courts or through sanctions — may cling more tightly to power and prioritize keeping elites satisfied, even at the cost of human rights. The other is the emergence of new economic sectors. When new sources of wealth or influence appear — think of the rise of tech or artificial intelligence — regimes often try to shape those sectors so their benefits flow to loyal insiders. China’s recent centralization of AI oversight under top party organs shows how a state can cultivate new elites aligned with the leadership rather than allow independent tech entrepreneurs to become autonomous power bases.

The broader takeaway is that economic liberalization is not a mechanical path to democratization. Whether opening an economy loosens or tightens political control depends heavily on how it redistributes power inside the regime and how leaders respond to those shifts. When reforms threaten entrenched insiders, repression can increase as leaders balance international economic incentives against domestic elite politics.

This analysis comes from the work of political scientist Jose Kaire, whose book investigates these dynamics across multiple cases. The findings suggest that donors, investors and reform advocates need to consider not only economic incentives but also the internal political structure of regimes if they hope to avoid unintended consequences for human rights.

Democracy around the world is under strain. Recent measures show a large share of the global population now lives in countries that are becoming more authoritarian. At the same time, economic globalization and liberalization have advanced — yet the expectation that markets and trade would steadily push autocracies toward democracy has not played out as predicted.

Jose Kaire, in his book The Road to Repression, offers a clear explanation for this puzzle. For decades a dominant idea held that economic liberalization — privatizing state firms, deregulating markets, and opening to trade and investment — would reduce citizens’ dependence on the state for jobs, credit, and opportunity. That independence, the argument went, would give people the autonomy to organize, resist authoritarian rulers, and press for political rights. This intellectual lineage stretches back to thinkers associated with the Washington Consensus and influential economists who argued markets create political freedom.

Reality, however, has been messier. Kaire documents numerous cases in which opening the economy coincided with rising human rights abuses. Roughly half of autocracies that liberalized followed trajectories of greater repression rather than greater political openness. Why did a policy intended to shrink state power sometimes make regimes more violent and restrictive?

The core answer focuses on domestic elite politics. Economic liberalization is not just a technocratic economic reform; it is a profound political shock for the ruling coalition inside an autocratic regime. Party officials, military officers, bureaucrats, and other insiders derive influence, income, and status from existing state control over the economy. When markets open, a new class of actors — independent entrepreneurs, private firms, opposition-aligned businesspeople — can emerge and shift the balance of power. That threatens insiders by potentially diluting their privileges and influence.

Leaders who pursue liberalization therefore face a dilemma. They need to satisfy international partners and financial actors who demand market reforms, or else lose access to investment and aid. But they also need to keep their core elite supporters onside. When those insiders are strong relative to the leader, the safest political strategy is often repression targeted at outsiders: crush, constrain, or co-opt potential challengers so insiders do not lose ground. Repression thus becomes a tool for managing elite politics, not merely a blunt instrument for silencing popular dissent.

Kaire shows how this logic played out in a range of countries. In some cases, presidents who introduced market reforms simultaneously tightened political controls, using force and restrictions to assure party and military elites that their interests would be protected. Repression signals to insiders that the leader remains committed to shielding elite privileges even as the economy opens up. It also helps prevent new economic actors from translating economic gains into political influence.

This mechanism helps explain why international pressure for liberalization can backfire in terms of human rights. External actors often prioritize market reforms and punish governments that reject them. Autocratic leaders can comply with those economic demands while preserving elite loyalty by ramping up repression. In effect, liberalization plus elite insecurity can generate more, not less, authoritarianism.

Two contemporary cases Kaire discusses are Cuba and Venezuela. Both have faced outside pressure to reform and have moved toward partial economic opening. Whether that opening improves or worsens human rights depends on the balance of power between the leader and regime elites. If elites are strong — for example, when party institutions or the military have acquired greater autonomy and economic stakes — further economic opening may prompt leaders to crack down on outsiders to protect insiders. That dynamic is visible in recent Cuban policies and in uncertainties surrounding Venezuela after political upheaval.

The book also highlights wider implications. First, leaders facing the possibility of international prosecution or removal may become especially desperate to keep elites loyal, intensifying repression. Second, the same logic applies whenever shifting economic structures produce new sources of wealth or influence. The rise of new sectors, such as technology or artificial intelligence, can create fresh elites whose fortunes depend on alignment with the leader. In China, for instance, centralization of oversight over key tech sectors and closer ties between entrepreneurial winners and the party reflect efforts to manage such transitions. Where new economic actors are made dependent on the ruler, leaders gain room to sideline older elites; where elites gain independence, repression may increase to protect their position.

Kaire was surprised by how common the pattern proved to be. What began as a story shaped by a family anecdote about factory changes in Mexico turned into an empirical finding across many cases: liberalization often correlates with heightened repression because of how it reshapes elite bargaining.

Policy takeaways are sobering. External actors pushing for market reforms should not assume economic opening will automatically produce political liberalization. Donors, investors, and international institutions need to account for domestic elite structures; reforms that weaken the state’s economic control without offering credible protections for vulnerable groups or new channels for elite accommodation can exacerbate human rights abuses. Ultimately, whether liberalization expands political space depends less on markets themselves and more on who controls the spoils and how rulers manage elite politics as the economy changes.