Croatia's rightward shift sparks concern over democratic backsliding — UnionPress

A half‑million‑strong concert by nationalist singer Marko Perković and the prime minister's public support have intensified fears that Croatia is drifting toward authoritarianism.

Prime Minister Andrej Plenković was photographed with controversial singer Marko Perković, known as "Thompson", during a dress rehearsal for a concert that later attracted more than 450,000 attendees at Zagreb's Hippodrome. The event, the largest ticketed gathering in the country's history, featured openly displayed Ustaša symbols and chants of the wartime salute "Za dom spremni!". Police stood by without intervening, and several ministers publicly declared they had been present.

The spectacle has become a flashpoint for a broader debate about Croatia's political direction. Political scientist Anđelko Milardović, a professor at the University of Zagreb and director of the Centre for Political Science Research, warned that the prime minister's conduct shows "elements of authoritarianism" and that "when one person decides about everything, it is not good for democracy". Milardović likened the current climate to the Weimar Republic, a period he described as "very, very dangerous".

Since entering the European Union in 2013, Croatia has been portrayed as a reliable partner for Brussels. It has consistently backed EU sanctions on Russia and supported the accession ambitions of neighbouring Balkan states. Until recently, Plenković, now in his third consecutive term, was seen as a liberal‑leaning, pro‑European figure who managed a delicate balance between EU expectations and the more conservative elements of his Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ) party.

That balance began to unravel last summer when the Thompson concert turned into a de‑facto political rally. The singer, a former soldier who fought in the 1991‑1995 war of independence, is notorious for glorifying the Ustaša regime, a fascist puppet government that collaborated with Nazi Germany and participated in the genocide of Jews, Serbs and Roma. His songs frequently begin with the Ustaša salute, a phrase outlawed in many European countries for its extremist connotations.

Despite the overtly nationalist overtones, the concert proceeded without police interference. The state's tacit tolerance was underscored by Plenković's own photograph with Perković and the attendance of several cabinet members. Critics argue that this signals a shift from a liberal, EU‑aligned stance toward a more nationalist, right‑wing agenda.

In the months following the concert, Croatia witnessed a surge in confrontations linked to the war legacy. Football ultras, war‑veteran groups and far‑right activists coordinated attempts to disrupt cultural and sporting events organised by Serbian associations in cities such as Split, Zagreb and Vukovar. The hostility extended beyond ethnic Serbs to include foreign workers from Asia, indicating a broader climate of intolerance.

These incidents have prompted left‑wing parties and civil‑society organisations to call for stronger safeguards for minority rights and a clearer separation between cultural events and extremist politics. They argue that the government's silence, or at times its tacit endorsement, emboldens fringe groups and threatens social cohesion.

Milardović stresses that the debate over the Second World War's legacy is no longer a purely academic matter. "We are prisoners of the past," he said. "Various actors are pulling society back to the time of the Second World War." He warns that the continued politicisation of historical grievances risks entrenching divisions that the EU's rule‑of‑law mechanisms were meant to mitigate.

While Croatia has not yet broken with EU policy on issues such as sanctions against Russia, its internal drift raises questions for Brussels about the resilience of democratic standards in newer member states. The EU's rule‑of‑law framework, which monitors judicial independence, media freedom and minority protections, could be tested if nationalist rhetoric translates into legislative changes or curbs on civil liberties.

Neighbouring Hungary, which has openly clashed with the EU over rule‑of‑law concerns, offers a cautionary comparison. Unlike Budapest, Zagreb has so far avoided direct confrontation with Brussels, but the growing public endorsement of extremist symbols may prompt EU institutions to scrutinise Croatia's compliance more closely.

For workers and ordinary households, the shift matters beyond abstract politics. A climate that tolerates extremist mobilisation can deter foreign investment, affect tourism revenues and strain public services that rely on a stable, inclusive environment. Moreover, the rise of nationalist sentiment often coincides with calls for stricter immigration controls, potentially impacting migrant labour that fills gaps in sectors such as agriculture, construction and care work.

Trade unions have voiced alarm at the government's perceived alignment with far‑right elements. The Croatian Trade Union Confederation (SSSH) issued a statement condemning the "dangerous glorification of a fascist past" and urged the prime minister to reaffirm his commitment to democratic values. They warned that normalising extremist rhetoric could undermine collective bargaining rights and weaken the social safety net.

Human‑rights NGOs, including the Croatian Helsinki Committee, have called for an investigation into the police's decision not to intervene during the concert. They argue that state inaction effectively condoned hate speech, which is prohibited under both Croatian law and EU directives on combating extremist propaganda.

Opposition parties, notably the centre‑left Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the green‑oriented Možemo!, have demanded a parliamentary inquiry into the government's relationship with Perković and other far‑right figures. They contend that the prime minister's public support undermines Croatia's reputation as a stable, pro‑European democracy.

Plenković's HDZ is due to face parliamentary elections in 2027. The party's handling of the Thompson episode could become a decisive factor for voters, especially younger citizens who grew up after the war and are more attuned to EU values. If the government continues to court nationalist symbols, it may risk alienating a segment of the electorate that favours deeper European integration and progressive social policies.

Meanwhile, the European Commission's annual rule‑of‑law report, due later this year, will assess Croatia's adherence to democratic standards. Should the report flag concerns, the EU could consider initiating infringement procedures, which might affect funding allocations from cohesion and structural programmes, a potential blow to regions still recovering from the war's economic fallout.

For now, the debate in Zagreb mirrors a wider European tension between rising nationalist sentiment and the EU's push for liberal democratic norms. As Milardović cautions, the country's future hinges on whether political actors choose to confront the past constructively or allow it to dominate contemporary politics.

In a region still grappling with the legacies of the 1990s conflicts, Croatia's trajectory will be watched closely by Brussels, neighbouring states and the many citizens who hope for a Europe that safeguards both memory and democratic progress.