ALEXANDRIA OCASIO-CORTEZ'S comments at the recent Munich Security Conference cut through the usual diplomatic fog that rises at events like this. While the conference was typically dominated by discussions of military alliances, geopolitical tensions, and the choreography of great-power politics, the socialist congresswoman instead spoke about the political abandonment of the working class, and how that vacuum is fuelling the rise of authoritarian movements across the world. Her argument was not theoretical. It was a warning—one that resonates well beyond her home country and speaks directly to countries like New Zealand, where centrist politics continues to dominate even as social and economic fractures deepen.
AOC'S central point was that authoritarianism does not emerge spontaneously. It is the result of inequality, insecurity, and political neglect. When working people feel unheard, unrepresented, and economically squeezed, they become vulnerable to reactionary narratives that promise order, stability, and a sense of belonging. Authoritarian movements thrive not because they offer real solutions, but because they fill the emotional and political void left by parties that once claimed to champion ordinary people but drifted into technocratic centrism. Her message was blunt: if democracies want to survive, they must rebuild a politics rooted in the material realities of the working class.
Everyday people, she warned, were turning away from liberal democracy because wealthy elites had failed to address their needs:
'Extreme levels of income inequality lead to social instability. It's an urgent priority that we get our economic houses in order and deliver material gains for the working class, or else we will fall to a more isolated world governed by authoritarians that also do not deliver to working people.'
This diagnosis is not unique to the United States. It is a pattern visible across Europe, Latin America, and increasingly in the Asia-Pacific. But for New Zealand, the relevance is particularly acute. For years, the political centre has been treated as the natural home of electoral success, a place where parties compete to reassure middle-class voters that nothing too disruptive will happen. Yet beneath that veneer of stability and polite conversation, the country has been grappling with a housing crisis, stagnant wages, rising living costs, and a growing sense that the political establishment—regardless of which party is in power—has failed to deliver meaningful change. We live in a country where neither of two so-called major parties are unable to command the support of a third of the electorate that still votes.
AOC’s comments expose the limits of this centrist consensus. She argued that when political movements abandon boldness, they leave the field open for those who are willing to channel public anger into resentment rather than solidarity. In New Zealand, this dynamic is already visible. Reactionary rhetoric, from politicians like David Seymour and Winston Peters, has gained traction by tapping into frustrations that mainstream parties have been unwilling or unable to address. The result is a political environment where fear and division can flourish, not because the public is inherently reactionary, but because the left has not offered a compelling alternative grounded in working-class interests.
The lesson from Ocasio-Cortez’s intervention is that centrism is not a neutral or stabilising force. It is, in many cases, a retreat—a refusal to confront the structural inequalities that fuel discontent. In New Zealand, this retreat has meant that issues like housing affordability, labour rights, and public services are often framed as technical problems rather than political ones. The language of 'balance,' 'pragmatism,' and 'fiscal responsibility' has become a substitute for vision. But as AOC warned, this approach is not only inadequate; it is dangerous. When the left fails to articulate a transformative agenda, the right fills the void with simplistic solutions that scapegoat the vulnerable and erode democratic norms.
AOC remarked that she attended the Munich Security Conference 'not because I’m running for president, not because I’ve made some kind of decision about a horse race or a candidacy but to sound the alarm bells that a lot of those folks in nicely pressed suits in that room will not be there much longer if we do not do something about the runaway inequality that is fuelling far-right populist movements.'
A bold working-class politics, as she described, is not about nostalgia for old slogans or rigid ideological purity. It is about recognising that democracy depends on people feeling that the political system works for them. That requires policies that materially improve lives: secure housing, fair wages, strong unions, accessible healthcare, and public services that function. It also requires a political culture that treats working people not as passive recipients of policy, but as active participants in shaping their communities and their futures.
For the New Zealand’s left, such as it is, this means abandoning the temptation to triangulate toward the centre in the hope of appearing 'responsible'. It means recognising that the centre itself has shifted, and that clinging to it only accelerates the drift toward authoritarian politics. AOC’s warning is that the fight against authoritarianism cannot be won by moderation and corporate-friendly 'incremental' policies. It requires a politics that is willing to confront power, challenge entrenched interests, and speak directly to the frustrations that many people feel.
The stakes are high. Around the world, authoritarian leaders have shown that they can exploit economic insecurity and political disillusionment with alarming effectiveness. New Zealand is not immune to these forces. The country’s social fabric is fraying in ways that polite centrism cannot repair. If politics parties that profess to be on the side of the working class continue to prioritise managerial competence over transformative ambition, they risk becoming irrelevant to the very people they claim to represent.
AOC's intervention at Munich was a reminder that the defence of democracy begins at home, not in conference halls. It begins with rebuilding trust, offering hope, and grounding politics in the lived experiences of working people. For New Zealand, the path forward is clear: abandon the comfort of centrism and embrace a bold, unapologetic working-class politics capable of meeting the moment. It is needed right now in an election year.
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