Discourse, Ideology, and Hegemonic Masculinity

Fortuyn identified the Dutch political system as “patriarchy” on the way out (S2). “Rule by stale old men,” he argued, was (and should be) making way for an extension of what he referred to as Dutch (sometimes European) “modernity” (S4). Especially women and gay men would occupy a more central role in politics and society. Modernity, for Fortuyn, encompassed secularism, individual responsibility, emancipation, and sexual liberty (S4). Through centuries of “maturation,” he asserted, the Netherlands separated church and state and became a “beacon of light” for other nations (S2). Pivotal for Fortuyn, normalization of nonheterosexual relations enabled individual emancipation, divorced from old “tribal” affiliations with church and family. Further, the sexual revolution had “separated sex from having children, … undermining the reproduction of traditional social structures” (S4). In his vision, popular modernity contrasted with the existing (elite) hegemonic masculinity that still had patriarchal tendencies, and he instead called explicitly for a complete and unapologetic political embrace of modernity: normalizing marginalized, more empathetic, nonheterosexual and nonpatriarchal masculinities. While traditional family values are often invoked by PRR parties, this was not central for Fortuyn.

Fortuyn did, however, articulate a concern for social cohesion, which he deemed necessary for society and the nation, claiming that authoritative structures like church and family no longer served this purpose. In his view, this cohesion necessitated nationally shared customs, norms, and values. In a column titled “The Orphaned Society” (S10), he argued that social cohesion is under duress from immigration and the current political order. His envisioned modernity was incompatible with religion and “foreign” cultures, especially Islam, which he considered “backwards” (S2, S161). He called for vigilance against the oppression and harassment of women and gay men—which, he argued, was perpetrated historically by Dutch men, but contemporarily only by (orthodox) Christians and Muslims—and he hypermasculinized the latter as predatory and un-Dutch. Consequently, he wanted Dutch borders closed, and he proposed forced emancipatory schooling for “non-original Dutch communities,” who should also “no longer be allowed to import foreign brides” (S2). Additionally, Fortuyn was in favor of conscription for 18-year-old boys and girls. Besides military conscription, he proposed a social service program in which self-regulating, mixed (gender, class, race, and ethnicity) youth units would learn to work together to serve local communities (S2). More broadly, Fortuyn argued for state-led emancipatory education, enforcing shared social norms to facilitate social cohesion.

Although Fortuyn consistently pronounced his support for gender equality and supported applying state power to enforce modernity, he was against affirmative action. He alleged that, already, too many women were in top positions only because of their gender (S15, S59). On more than one occasion, he also invoked traditional stereotypes and used women-unfriendly slurs to describe women he disagreed with, like “old hag” (S4) and “go home and cook” (S169). Despite his strong pro-emancipatory discourse, this rhetoric resembles the “feminism gone too far” assertions of contemporary anti-gender movements that normalize stereotyped gender preferences (i.e., women simply like to cook), while simultaneously normalizing the idea that most men do not have to change for emancipation to proceed. This stance also resembles homonormativity, because it normalizes traditional gender roles in heterosexual relationships and sets comparable expectations for nonheterosexual couples. For Fortuyn, in our analysis, essentialized gender roles may thus require that women (with children) nonetheless turn over leadership to men—who “more often prefer such a role and are therefore often better at it” (S112).

Leadership and the Political Arena

Fortuyn presented himself in a somewhat messianic fashion, as he regarded his ideas as unique and his political leadership as essential. He portrayed himself as an intellectual who could put things (back) in order. In so doing, he positioned himself as the savior of the nation: the archetypical charismatic PRR leader defending the people against elites and foreign enemies. However, he resisted being called a “strongman,” along with any association with authoritarianism or the extreme right (S112). Instead, he insisted that his aim was to break the paternal rule of elitist career politicians and (re)introduce “real democracy” (S4). Fortuyn acknowledged that the Dutch consensus-based democracy necessitates compromise (S157). His critique, however, was that heated debate is often mistaken for a quarrel in Dutch politics, while to him, passion represented dedication. Fortuyn instead explicitly embodied his politics, which he contrasted with the bureaucratic detached political style of other Dutch political leaders. He strategically applied his identity, rooted in marginalized masculinity, to call for a change in leadership: he sought to replace the “old” patriarchy of church and state with more empathetic (gay) masculine leadership. His campaign slogan, “at your service,” often accompanied by a military-like salute, serves as an example here. The phrase represents a strong but attentive and submissive attitude to voters, and the salutary gesture was a campy reference to military service (S169).

Fortuyn was very open about his upbringing and identity. In the LPF’s 2001 highly autobiographic party program, he writes about strong male figures in school and church—often intertwined in his Catholic upbringing—who were “both father and mother” to him and his friends, and whose authority (sometimes physically violent) he considered necessary (S4). He explains how he looked up to these male figures and wanted to follow their example. In his childhood and adolescence, female interruptions were unwanted, like that of a psychologist “hag [who] came to test us” (S4). (Male) authority and masculinity were thus pivotal for Fortuyn’s development as a political leader—which he embraced in his policies as a promise that a charismatic leader (whom he himself embodied) could similarly provide stability and confidence to subordinated (nonelite) masculinities.

In conclusion, Fortuyn’s alternative to paternal rule by the old boys’ network was an embodied politics of modernity for which he was the perfect candidate. He sought to mainstream (but not hegemonize) a traditionally subordinated nonheteronormative masculinity that he considered to be pivotal to modernity. He explicitly criticized the patriarchal nature of society and wanted to infuse hegemonic masculinity with the qualities of more empathetic masculinities. He explicitly positioned himself still as a sexual outsider—thus at least partially, and strategically, affirming the subordination of his sexuality and masculinity in the gender, and the political, order. In his view, the Dutch volonté générale already encompassed a liberal notion of gender/sexual equality, but political elites lagged behind, and foreign identities posed a threat.

Fortuyn’s ideological narrative thus resembles the masculinist logic (“the nation under threat”) found in academic literature on the PRR, projecting fear and the need for protection and strong leadership. While this masculinist logic is often presented in literature as violent strongman rhetoric, Fortuyn contrasted the hypermasculinized threat of foreign bodies with his idea of emancipatory modernity. Although his solution of closing borders can be seen as a strongman policy, he discursively framed his proposals as a defense of social cohesion, to be protected by a less masculinist, less heteronormative, leadership. His own position is that of an exemplary leader who represents his followers, but also combines the qualities of a strong and decisive visionary with a marginalized sexual identity. He positioned himself as an outsider to the political elite in terms of gender and sexuality: more empathetic than straight men, but more decisive (and hardened) than women. Through allusions to his sexuality, he articulated his unique qualifications.

Discourse, Ideology, and Hegemonic Masculinity

Central to Wilders’s envisioned hegemony is an archetypical Dutch couple he constructed to exemplify his politics. “Henk and Ingrid” own a modest home in the suburbs, have children, work for a living, and aspire to live their lives without much hassle. He centers this “typical Dutch couple” as the proper object of politics and argues that “they are humiliated and cast aside” by political elites (S467). Although Wilders does not seek to question or diminish the rights of same-sex couples through this fictitious couple, their centrality in his political discourse reveals a heteronormative image in his envisioned hegemony. A nonheteronormative couple is absent from his discourse, although “they can also be blue or brown” (S329).

The biggest threat to Henk and Ingrid is Islamization, and the 2017 PVV program proclaimed that the PVV was for Henk and Ingrid and not “Ali and Fatima” (S363). Wilders argues that the Netherlands has a purpose: “being free, prosperous, and independent” (S179), referencing the Dutch golden age, which he contrasts with Islam. In this context, Wilders emphasizes “Judeo-Christian humanist culture” more than ethnocentrism, the latter of which is arguably less acceptable to mainstream society. To him, this humanism includes “ideological achievements” like women’s emancipation and gay rights.Footnote ² Wilders’ pro-emancipatory discourse appears at least partially substantive, but affirmative action is out of the question—that is, men do not need to change, and women and nonheterosexual men are tasked with their own emancipation. Further, Wilders’s conditional support for sexual inclusivity does not extend to gender fluidity and trans rights. Although he stated that “if people want to change genders, be my guest” (S279), he has called gender-inclusive policies such as nongendered bathrooms “crazy” (S522) and said that educating children about nonbinary identities amounts to a “woke totalitarian dictatorship” (S279). In our analysis, Wilders’s envisioned hegemonic (gender) order centers a hegemonic masculinity of the average man, whose averageness is contrasted with a presumed excess associated with transgender politics.

Crucially, Wilders uses both emancipatory and anti-emancipatory arguments in anti-immigrant discourse. He portrays Muslim men as habitually polygamous, which he sees as resulting in the oppressed position of Muslim women that he deems un-Dutch. This view informs his stance against chain migration, which, at the same time, hypermasculinizes immigrant men for wanting multiple wives. Wilders also refers to Muslims (and especially the Prophet Muhammad) as pedophiles, rapists, and (child) murderers (i.e., S442, S466, S481), while calling non-Muslims who defend Muslim rights dhimmi—a trope common in conspiracy theories that pit the “weak” West (men) against “strong and predatory” Muslim men.Footnote ³ Thus, his envisioned hegemony represents a stronger masculinity, although not necessarily centering the patriarchal family, and not as hypermasculine as that which he assigns to “foreign” identities.

In contrast, Wilders has never criticized Christian parties or organizations for similarly discriminatory practices or views. In fact, Wilders has aligned the PVV with conservative Christian organizations that emphasize traditional family values and are often anti-abortion and homophobic.Footnote ⁴ Wilders’s PVV also has ties with other European PRR parties that are highly conservative in terms of sexual inclusivity and gender equality rights like abortion. He does not invoke similar sentiments himself, but he also does not publicly distance himself from such positions—and conservative positions on gender and sexuality are clearly no dealbreaker for him in forming alliances. Wilders’s support for sexual inclusivity should thus be regarded, at least at times, as instrumental and not always substantive in his hegemonic vision for the Netherlands.

Leadership and the Political Arena

Wilders positions himself as a strong leader who can defend “Dutch values” against the threats posed by (Muslim) foreigners, leftists, and elites. Although he has a permanent security detail, he rarely makes use of it rhetorically to underpin his political positions. Rather than assume a victim role, as other PRR leaders have done, Wilders instead emphasizes his strength. He portrays the threats to his life as the result of “saying what most Dutch people think”—a burden he bears willingly to prevent others from undergoing the same (S309). In doing so, he implicitly and explicitly questions the strength and courage of other political leaders and normalizes his own position as representing/protecting “regular Dutch people” (S462, S522).

In sharp contrast with the traditional Dutch member-based party, the PVV does not accept membership, which de facto makes Wilders the only PVV party member, and he resists (public) calls for democratization from other men in his party who have leadership aspirations. Rather than publicly demonizing them, however, Wilders reprimands them internally. Further, in response to public scandals involving high-placed PVV faction members, some of which concerned sexually promiscuity (in one case, allegedly taking place inside government buildings), Wilders publicly defended these party affiliates. In all cases, he sided with men who had wronged women, sometimes severely.

Wilders’ peroxide-white hairdo has been a topic of ridicule and attention in the national media, but this has rarely prompted any serious response by him. This matches his demeanor in debates, where he defends his often comparatively divergent political positions in an almost stoic manner, calmly and often sarcastically. This enacts a normative rationality, or “reason”—a masculine trait that he habitually employs as a defense of “normal” Dutch people, those “cast aside” by political elites (S467, S278)—and showcasing his proximity to Henk.

In conclusion, Wilders’s vision for the Netherlands in terms of sexuality and masculinity is varied. He asserts support for women’s emancipation and gay rights, but his hegemonic masculinity appears heteronormative, with some space for sexual inclusivity. Wilders’s position on gender/sexual inclusivity at times appears genuine, but it is present in his discourse predominantly when combating “Islamization.” Wilders seems to appreciate that sexual modernity is part of the Dutch hegemonic gender order, which he does not normally seek to contest, but his strategic alignment with European parties and organizations that are decidedly trans- and homophobic and anti-abortion shows these topics are not pivotal to his ideology. Henk’s masculinity obtains a hegemonic position in Wilders’s idealized society. This type of masculinity, we argue, resembles complicit masculinity (cf. Connell Reference Connell2005) in the current gender order. Wilders seeks to displace (subordinate) the “weak” hegemonic (elite) masculinity, as he argues it is too far removed from the everyday male virtues embodied by Henk—and incapable of defending these.

Wilders positions himself as a regular guy, similar to Henk, but not quite the same because of Wilders’s unique strength in fighting against Islam despite threats to his life. He presents himself as stronger than others in society, yet at the same time fighting for and representing the men whose currently complicit masculinity would have hegemonic status in his ideal society.

Discourse, Ideology, and Hegemonic Masculinity

Baudet argues that supranational institutions and multiculturalism are debilitating for democratic nation-states (S523, S537), but arguments that immigrants are threatening sexual freedoms are infrequent to Baudet’s discourse. Baudet’s assertions of a need to “defend the nation” instead come more often from biopolitical arguments. He blames “weakening national identity” on the dissolution of “traditional” (European) families, declining “native” (White) birthrates, a waning Western (Christian) identity, and the “feminization” of Western men (S525, S577). He prefers that “White people remain dominant” in Europe. Further, he accuses left-wing progressives and, recently, conservative liberals of conspiring with foreigners to “dilute” European identities through immigration and marriage (S729).

In Oikofobie (published in 2013; S524; the title loosely translates as “repudiation of one’s own culture” in political contexts), Baudet argues that Dutch politics and media conspire to depict national history as something to be ashamed of. Baudet uses a skewed reading of Dutch history for his alternative envisioned hegemony, and he habitually invokes references to classical antiquity, selectively and out of context (S523). His imagined history is contingent upon a legacy of White male thinkers and conquerors whom he admires, as evidenced by a YouTube series (e.g., S717, S718). He theatrically displayed this admiration by laying flowers at a statue of Jan Pieterszoon Coen, figurehead of Dutch colonial history and slave trader, in response to Black Lives Matter protests (S790). His invocation of historical figures entails an idealization of particular family structures and normalizes a particular masculinity as desirable. These historical figures are portrayed in history books as strong men fighting for what they thought was right, with caring, supportive wives. This idealized traditionally gendered family facilitates the same masculinity that Baudet has publicly said to long for and that he considers under threat from feminism, individualism, and nonheteronormativity (S577, S525).

On occasion, Baudet has publicly supported gay rights (S645), but his discourse shows a discernible pattern of preferring “traditional families,” using a vocabulary that was previously exclusive to orthodox Christian parties in Dutch politics.Footnote ⁵ FVD is also aligned with orthodox Christian groups. For example, FVD and the ultra-orthodox Christian SGP (Staatkundig Gereformeerde Partij/Reformed Political Party) are the only two Dutch members of the European Conservatives and Reformists group, a conservative, anti-federalist party alliance in the European Parliament that lists “the importance of the family as the bedrock of society” as a founding principle.Footnote ⁶ Moreover, Baudet uses gay slurs to demasculinize his political opponents and defends the right of Christian schools to fire teachers for being gay.Footnote ⁷

In fictional and nonfictional work, Baudet brandishes fear of the feminization of masculinity, arguing that women “need” strong men. In his 2014 novel Voorwaardelijke Liefde (Conditional Love, S525), for example, protagonist Gregor detests feminism and the changing gender relations in Dutch society. Fictional Gregor is not Baudet, but with its many real-world citations, the novel clearly promotes a substantial critique of feminism and liberal sexuality, which aligns with Baudet’s nonfictional work. For example, in a review of Michel Houellebecq’s Serotonin, he writes that it “describes exactly the woes of feminism and weak masculinity in West-Europe” (S577), and he unprovokedly supported controversial “sex-guru” Julien Blanc, who argues that women need strong, coercive men and that “no” often means “yes” (S566). Lastly, Baudet habitually simplifies and essentializes gender differences. In 2017, for example, he contended that women are naturally more left-wing and empathetic, but “then they meet a man who explains how the world really works, and then they rationally become more realistic, more right-wing” (S687).Footnote ⁸

Leadership and the Political Arena

Baudet started his parliamentary maiden speech in Latin (S585), and he still habitually uses this language, even after being repeatedly criticized for it. While Baudet presents himself as a champion of the people, his manner of speaking, full of historical and philosophical references, seems elitist. In debates and interviews, Baudet often invokes historical thinkers, abstracting from the discussion and subsequently arguing that what he is talking about is what is actually important. He refers to his colleagues in parliament as “simple people” and questions their resolve and mental capabilities (S687). Baudet thus projects his own intellect and influence to be beyond that of the “mundane politicians” who merely address the here and now. As such, in our analysis, he demasculinizes his interlocutors, questioning their reason and rationality.

Baudet detests humility, because “others… will already hold you back” (S38). Accordingly, he has described himself as a “French intellectual” (S696) and the most important Dutch thinker of his time (S746, S695). He also frequently “doubles down” when he misrepresents data or facts. For instance, he backs his denial of climate science using selective or questionable publications and taking scientific findings out of context, while strategically appealing to common sense or reason (“this is only logical”). When journalists exposed racist and misogynist remarks that he had made in private chats, he suggested that all journalists henceforth share all their private chats, insinuating that everyone shares unfortunate jokes in private settings (S795). In doing so, he also normalizes toxic discourses for his followers: he champions a strong, unapologetic, “rational” masculinity for himself and his followers, opposed to “weak” and submissive elites. For example, Baudet called a journalist “gay” for not wanting to shake hands during the COVID-19 pandemic, not only questioning science but also implying that “real men” question ordinances that are only for the “weak.”Footnote ⁹

When critiqued, Baudet assumes a victim role for himself and his followers (“the real Dutch people”), switching from being intellectually superior to being “one of them.” He organizes rallies at which he complains about “unfair” critiques of his party (S742, S743). At the same time, he positions himself as a savior, fighting for what used to be normal but has now been taken away by the elites. In FVD’s periodical news journal on YouTube (an alternative to what Baudet calls the “fake news media”), Baudet is a news anchor, often effectively interviewing himself, further solidifying his image as the architect and exemplary arbiter of a society that favors “real Dutch people.” He embodies “what used to be normal”: a heteronormative society of White families with closed borders, where men can unapologetically do what they want.

In conclusion, Baudet’s discourse exposes a biological essentialism in terms of gender and sexuality. His overt fear of the feminization of masculinity particularly stands out; he considers the EU and Dutch elites to be the culprits of this feminization, which poses a threat to the nation. He positions himself as a unique genius with all the answers, who is also a “regular Joe” in terms of wants and desires in daily relations. His nostalgic representation of history encompasses both politics and positionality, as he seeks to represent a “return” to a political history selectively constructed from the national past.

Envisioned Hegemonic Masculinities

How Fortuyn, Wilders, and Baudet evaluate current Dutch hegemonic masculinity and what their alternative envisioned hegemony entails show crucial overlaps, which, at least in our sample, appear non-negotiable or pivotal to their PRR ideology. All three leaders explicitly contrast Dutch identity with foreign identities, which they present as a threat to the nation. They do so using discourses involving both masculinity and sexuality. Immigrant men are hypermasculinized as predatory, unemancipated, and barbaric, and they are contrasted with “more civilized” European or Dutch men. Immigrants are also portrayed as un-Dutch, especially in terms of their stance toward women and nonheterosexual men (the latter less common/explicit for Baudet). Their envisioned society is one in which (their) masculinity serves as a shield against the threat of immigration, and they homogenize Dutch masculinity as a modern or empathetic masculinity (whether genuine or not).

Put in terms of our analytical framework, all three leaders respond to this construct of a nation under threat by contrasting their envisioned hegemonic masculinity with that of the political elite, which they portray as inadequate to address the perceived threat of foreign hypermasculinity. They explicitly address the importance of national identity or cohesion, which is informed by their ideas about hegemonic masculinity and sexuality (i.e., gendered nationalism). To them, protecting (and enforcing) a hegemonic national gender order and hegemonic sexuality also serves as a measure of Dutchness. Interestingly, however, this is also where the role of sexuality and masculinity in their discourses begins to diverge.

Fortuyn hypermasculinized both foreign identities and elites, whereby the latter are cast as being too detached, calculating, and bureaucratic, as well as invested in “upholding patriarchy.” He projected his own more feminized masculinity as a modern alternative better representing, in his vision, existing modern Dutch hegemonic masculinity. Wilders similarly hypermasculinizes and hypersexualizes foreign identities to cast them as un-Dutch, but he demasculinizes current leadership as weak. He represents a more traditional masculinity in terms of acting stronger against foreign threats and (re)normalizing gender binaries.Footnote ¹⁰ Baudet’s allegations of weakness in elite hegemonic masculinity instead stem from his anti-feminism and include instances of homophobia. More so than Wilders and Fortuyn, Baudet rails explicitly against the de-masculinization of society and the political elite who, in his view, have succumbed to feminism and nonheteronormativity. His anti-immigration rhetoric is much more ethnocentric and biopolitical, invoking “dilution” of the (Whiteness of the) Dutch people.

Their discourses diverge further when it comes to the hegemonization of particular constructs of masculinity and sexuality. Baudet overtly defends and idolizes strong (White) men, both in national history and in the bedroom (where women “like” to be oppressed). The hegemonic masculinity that Baudet envisions shows biological essentialism, both in politics and in traditional families, which we did not find for the other two leaders, and his ties with orthodox Christian groups are more substantive than Wilders’s. Similarly, anti-emancipatory sentiments are overtly present in his discourse, while rare and often opaque in Wilders’s. Wilders’s prototypical heterosexual Dutch man, Henk, is tolerant of certain nonheterosexual identities. Moreover, Wilders and Baudet frame advances in sexual inclusivity as feminist (or “woke”) projects whenever they consider them gone too far, but Wilders is again more accepting of sexual inclusivity than Baudet. Fortuyn instead criticized the political elite for marginalizing nonheterosexual masculinity, arguing that society had already progressed beyond this, and elites did thus not represent the vox populi adequately.

In conclusion, for all three, masculinity and sexuality are interwoven into their populist and nationalist discourses. There is overlap insofar as elite hegemonic masculinity is presented as inadequate, and their envisioned masculinity serves as a corrective. The substance of these claims, however, differs by leader. For Baudet, hegemonic masculinity is a heroic masculinity steeped in historical achievements, in which men can be men again. For Fortuyn and Wilders, hegemonic masculinity revolves around hetero- (or homo-) normative family life but not necessarily conquest or domination. Fortuyn’s vision is also more liberal in terms of male sexuality. Fortuyn’s modernity in fact makes sexual freedom pivotal (though still societally marginal) to his envisioned post-patriarchal hegemony. Although Wilders rhetorically represents similar policies, they seem more instrumental as they are most often stated as reactionary statements in the context of immigration debates. For Baudet, despite his admiration for Fortuyn, Dutch sexuality is decidedly heteronormative and masculinist, and he at times uses homophobic discourse.

Leadership

We also found both crucial similarities and significant differences in how the three political leaders position themselves as leaders, in terms of sexuality and masculinity. First, all three leaders position themselves as strong leaders able to defend the nation against threats, foreign (immigrants, Muslims) and domestic (political elites, media), but how they do this varies in terms of masculinity and sexuality. Fortuyn’s leadership represented a marginalized masculinity and sexuality crucially positioned at the crux of leadership. Wilders’s leadership instead represents modern, but still masculinist heteronormativity. Baudet’s leadership is more traditionally masculinist: he explicitly positions himself as the successor of historical White male leaders and embodies a sometimes homophobic, conservative masculinity.

Accordingly, their relation to their envisioned hegemony also varies. Wilders is the closest to his envisioned hegemony, and only his willingness to lead in the face of death threats sets him apart from Henk. Baudet is difficult to pinpoint as he changes his self-image depending on context. He often explicitly identifies himself with his voters, certainly, in terms of “us versus the elites,” but his self-professed unique genius and grandeur are at odds with this assessment. Contrastingly, Fortuyn consistently positioned himself in terms of his (sexually) marginalized identity, which he considered crucial for his unique qualifications as leader. He also embraced his academic and intellectual achievements, but not as superciliously as Baudet.

Finally, all three leaders construct masculinity as preferential for leadership, but in different terms. Least overtly, Wilders, through his hegemonization of traditionally complicit masculinity, represents a normalization of common sense (i.e., regular Joe masculinity) as naturally suited for leadership, contrasting his own “normal” and “logical” policy positions with elitist (“woke”) policies that he calls “sick,” “crazy,” or “outlandish.” Baudet and Fortuyn more overtly employ masculinity to position their natural suitability for political leadership, showing self-messianism. Fortuyn embraced impassioned politics as an alternative to technocratic rule by the “stale old men” with whom he contrasted himself, and he envisioned himself representing a populus that was already more modern than their current leadership. His gay identity was both genuine and instrumental in asserting a more feminine touch, as he often equated gay leadership with female leadership as the modern successor to historically hegemonic straight male leadership. Nevertheless, he invoked his own masculinity to position himself as more viable for political office than women, who are “just less interested” in such positions. Baudet’s messianism instead relies on masculinist boastful self-positioning, overarticulating his own achievements and refusing to apologize or correct mistakes. He presents anti-emancipatory discourse as empathy and understanding, while his increasingly scarce pro-emancipatory discourse strategically serves to instrumentalize a victim role for his—and his followers’—masculinity.