“Each of the forces struggling against authoritarianism must also consider its future position under democracy. They must all stand united against dictatorship, but they must divide against each other” (Przeworski, 1991: 88).
1. Introduction
The revolutionary wind blowing through Central and Eastern Europe (CEE) in 1989, brought forth an unquenchable thirst for change. Determined to break with the past, many countries were about to embark on their journey of transition. Some countries, however, would not experience a relatively smooth reversal of that fate. Some, like Slovakia, Bulgaria and Romania, would be faced with growing pains in their evolution from a state-centered to a society-centered system, and would come to realize that civil society was weak whereas the state remained strong (Ost, 1993; Vachudova, 2005). Evaluating their performance since the fall of the Berlin Wall, Zic points out that “[t]heir democratic transitions, in their economic as well as political dimensions, have been slow, delayed, or stalemated continuously or intermittently” (1998: 1).
Many scholars have attempted to conceptualize these differences in transition through induction (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998; Vachudova, 2005). Based on the characteristics of the transition in CEE countries – commonly known to entail Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Bulgaria and Romania – many wonder why, departing from a relatively homogenous communist regime, their post-communist counterparts are now marked by such heterogeneity.
Vachudova (2005) has made an excellent attempt at grasping these unforeseen differences in outcome. The author distinguishes between those countries where the ruling elites were pushing for a liberal change (Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic), and those where an illiberal democracy was established (Romania, Bulgaria and Slovakia). In search for a common denominator which could explain these differences, she claims that “[…] the quality of political competition at the moment of regime change determined whether states embarked on […] a liberal or illiberal pattern of political change after 1989” (2005: 3). According to Vachudova, furthermore, this political competition entails (1) the presence of anti-communist opposition; (2) a reformed communist party; (3) alternation in power; and (4) an independent media. After an in-depth analysis of recent history, the author concludes that “[t]he presence of an organized opposition to communism at the moment of regime change strong enough to take power in Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia had an immediate and profound institutional effect: the rules of the political transition were negotiated between the leaders of the opposition and the leaders of the communist party” (2005: 25). In other words, those countries that were deprived from their equivalent of, respectively, a 1981 Solidarity-movement, 1956 discontents or a 1968 Prague Spring; did not experience an equally successful transition to democracy.
Seducing as this analysis may sound, Vachudova does not aspire to provide tangible evidence for the assumed lack of opposition movements in Slovakia, Romania and Bulgaria. The author correctly notes that “[t]he presence of such an opposition speaks to the structure of politics, of the economy and of society both before and during communism”. In view of these complexities, she therefore acknowledges that “[i]t subsumes many historical and institutional developments that are beyond the scope of this book […]” (2005: 27). In what follows, we will try to formulate our modest contribution to the research on the role of opposition movements in the transition of CEE countries.
Although Slovakia, Romania and Bulgaria may share many commonalities in the way their post-communist political culture has evolved, we will solely focus on anti-communist sentiment in Bulgaria. The reason for this methodological preference is three-fold. First, one might argue that Slovakia does not easily lend itself to pre-1989 analysis given that it was part of Czechoslovakia until their Velvet Divorce in 1993 (Rosenberg, 1995). Second, Romania may be viewed as an anomaly as far as this particular analysis is concerned, given that the harsh repression under Ceausescu until 1989 renders the lack of opposition movements quite self-explanatory (Bernhard, 1993). Furthermore, according to Elster et al “Romania was the only country among the communist regimes of East and Central Europe which did not enjoy a completely non-violent path of transition to a democratic form of government” (1998: 55). Third, one needs to take into account the historical allegiance of Bulgaria to the Soviet Union which creates an entirely different framework within which the transition from communism to post-communism occurs (Smolar, 1996; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Specifically, Elster et al point out that “[t]he post-war history of Bulgaria is different from all the other CEE countries in that the communist regime of this country is the only one that has never been involved in a conflict with Soviet political, military and ideological hegemony” (1998: 261).
This research will attempt to formulate an answer to the following questions. Were there opposition movements in pre-1989 Bulgaria? How should we assess their political strength during the period of transition to democracy? How have these opposition movements positioned themselves in the post-communist political landscape? What were the repercussions of this transition for the (reformed) communist party? Why?
2. Bulgarian opposition: a contradictio in terminis?
The literature on opposition movements somewhat has the tendency to focus on the outcome of the first “free” elections held in 1990, in order to determine the extent to which the opposition was able to exercise its clout on the political landscape. To many observers, the Bulgarian 1990 elections came as a shock. Whereas in most CEE countries communism was electorally punished, the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP) – the successor of the Bulgarian Communist Party (BCP) – could count on a landslide victory. In view of the remarkable performance of the BSP – winning no less than 47.1 percent of the electoral vote – many scholars concluded that anti-communist opposition in Bulgaria was, at best, very weak; at worst, nonexistent (Vachudova, 2005; Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Ost recalls the disbelief and disenchantment on behalf of many observers who were left puzzled: “[g]iven that these previous attempts to organize independently were crushed by force, it seemed natural to expect that if and when civic freedom were fully guaranteed, institutional representation for different interests in civil society would develop rapidly” (1993: 455). However, no such thing happened in 1990.
In light of the failure of academic research to anticipate this continuity of communist rule in an era of transition, one might suggest that we ought to engage in a more structural analysis of a country which does not seem tailored to fit widespread assumptions about post-communist transition. Although the presumed causality between communist electoral gain and the non-existence of opposition groups may hold in other CEE countries, it neglects some important historical evolutions which prevents us from understanding the scope of these opposition movements in pre- and post-1989 Bulgaria.
When trying to see the post-communist forest through the transitional trees, it is of utmost importance to analyze the main embodiment of political opposition in Bulgaria – otherwise known as the Union of Democratic Forces (UDF). This political party, however, has a history of its own. Specifically, the UDF was founded on the cooperation between different segments of civil society, and thus mainly consists of prominent activists from the ecological and syndicalist movements (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Therefore, in order to scrutinize the role of the UDF in the process of transition, one ought to briefly look into its founding pillars: (a) the Ekoglasnost and (b) the labor unions.
It is striking to note how little research has been done on the impact of the ecological movement in Bulgaria. Not only was the Ekoglasnost one of the first movements that voiced their concerns about the communist regime but, as pointed out by Baumgarti, “at least for a while […] the ecological movement was the only possibility to express political discontent and opposition” (1993: 157, emphasis added). Initially mobilizing on mere environmental concerns, such as the immensely polluted town of Ruse in northern Bulgaria, the movement quickly started expressing its concerns for a variety of issues, including human rights. Faced with the apathy and sometimes even downright oppression of the communist elite, the Ekoglasnost hence came to be known as the embodiment of anti-communist opposition (Baumgarti, 1993; Zic, 1998; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). By the end of the 1980s the movement could count on broad public support, mainly because the Bulgarian population would link the continuous state of ecological distress to the incompetence of the ruling elite. Specifically regarding the situation in Ruse, however, the communist regime would refute these accusations by pointing fingers to the Romanian government as the antagonist in the affair – and thus play into xenophobic concerns of the population (Baumgarti, 1993). This portrayal of the communist elite as the savior and protector of the Bulgarian national identity would, as we will elaborate later on, continue to play a crucial role in the formation of Bulgaria’s ideological stances (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998; Vachudova, 2005).
It is not easy to verify whether the growing opposition in the 1980s came as a result of policies of liberalization, or whether a more flexible approach toward alternative political activity was adopted in response to this growing opposition (Kolarova, 1996; Zic, 1998). Nonetheless, a “new labor code” was institutionalized in 1986 which, according to Zic, reflected a “[…] growing tolerance of certain forms of autonomous or alternative political activity, if not full and open pluralism […]” (1998: 2).
Manifestations of that alternative political activity can be found, as we have already shown, in the ecological movement. The increasing discontent among the labor unions is another manifestation thereof. What holds for the attention paid to the ecological movement in academic research, however, holds for research on labor unions in Bulgaria as well. Keeping in mind that, as Zic points out, “[w]ith a notable exception of Poland, Bulgaria was the only communist country in which an opposition anticommunist labor union emerged before the collapse of the communist regime” (1998: 3), it is yet again remarkable that few scholars take this vital element into consideration when analyzing opposition movements in Bulgaria.
The most influential labor union carried the name Podkrepa, as it was founded in early 1989. Mainly because of the ban on independent political parties, Podkrepa was not an ordinary labor union. In fact, as Zic observes, “[…] it acted practically as an anti-communist political party, seeking to oust the interim government led by reformed Communists […]” (1998: 3). More importantly so, Podkrepa actively participated in the 1991 electoral campaign and, according to some, was one of the main contributors to the UDF’s victory in that same year (Kolarova, 1996; K&D, 1996; Zic, 1998). Furthermore, Podkrepa cooperated with the reformed Confederation of Independent Trade Unions of Bulgaria (CITUB) which, in 1989, shook off her communist bias and joined forces with other labor unions in order to criticize the communist regime (Zic, 1998). Evaluating the health of its democracy since the opposition victory in 1991, Zic is convinced that “[d]uring Bulgaria’s turbulent seven years of postcommunist transition, the country’s labor unions became major actors on the national political scene, which was polarized between political parties not capable of offering the nation a coherent and consistent program of political an economic transition. The unions, despite a deep mutual distrust and frequent failure to cooperate, acted decisively to break political stalemates and push ineffective governments out of office” (1998: 5).
Although Ekoglasnost and the labor unions plausibly paved the way for opposition to be heard throughout Bulgaria, it is difficult to determine the extent to which they could translate their concerns into political (bargaining) power. Drawing on the reasoning of many scholars, we therefore have to look at election results as an indicator of that political power. In view of the apolitical character of these movements, however, we ought to focus on their political counterpart. Founded on the turmoil of a deeply fragmented civil society in 1989, the UDF was inevitably an assemblage of different pre-1989 opposition movements. In fact, as pointed out by Kolarova and Dimitrov, the “UDF was meant to be a very loose coalition, as parties with incompatible political platforms were among the cofounders” (1996: 184). In spite of their strong ideological differences, however, these different movements of which the UDF was composed found common ground in their opposition to the communist regime (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Successfully so, the UDF and the civil society which endorsed it, was able to channel the revolutionary spirits of 1989. Hence, as some have noted, “December 1989 was a time of expanded mass protest. Rallies calling for the release of political prisoners and for constitutional amendments were held, and several calls for strikes received a wide hearing” (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996: 184-185).
It would not take long until these calls for change would be translated into political power. Indeed, winning no less than 34.6 percent of the vote in 1991 (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998), the opposition campaign of the UDF was electorally rewarded. Following Vachudova’s terminology, this meant that a “post-opposition government” was established, i.e., a government “[…] formed by leaders of the pre-1989 opposition movements” (2005: 26). In other words, the Bulgarian elections of 1991 did bring a previous opposition movement to power, albeit one year later than expected.
Where the 1990 BSP victory came as a surprise to many observers – precisely because it refuted widespread assumptions made about CEE countries in transitions – the 1991 elections brought forth yet another necessity to review analyses made about Bulgarian post-communist developments. After all, the claims made after 1990 that Bulgaria would lack a credible opposition movement now sounded slightly exaggerated. The interesting question therefore arises why this alternation in power occurred with delay. How should this sudden shift in the political landscape be interpreted? What does this tell us about the dynamics of opposition movements in Bulgaria?
Drawing on the use of electoral outcomes as an indicator of political power, the 1991 victory of the UDF may be interpreted as the consolidation of an existing opposition movement which, for a number of reasons, was “late” in securing its position in the political landscape. Ironically enough, however, this victory of the opposition set in motion a sequence of alternations in power. By 1994 the BSP could count on yet another landslide victory, captivating 43.6 percent of the electorate (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998; Kolarova, 1996). Two years later, however, the UDF could again claim the leadership of a new government (Vachudova, 2005).
Why could the BSP, in the absence of constraints of the communist regime, still secure several electoral victories? In light of a seemingly paradoxical political culture, one might suggest that the traditional analyses of post-communist transition in Bulgaria are incomplete. In what follows, we will formulate an overview of the different approaches to opposition movements in Bulgaria, and attempt to disentangle the dynamics behind the somewhat schizophrenic electoral outcomes of the 1990s.
3. Understanding opposition in Bulgaria
The 1990 BSP victory inspired many scholars to look at the institutional constraints that marked the country before it embarked on its journey of transition (Ost, 1993; Kornai, 1992). In order to explain the presumed lack of oppositional movements, it was claimed that these institutional constraints had “trickled down” to the core set-up of Bulgarian society. Hence, drawing on the institutional framework of communist systems Ost, and many with him, concluded that the weakness of civil society in Bulgaria reflected the “[…] specific way in which state-society relations were structured in the communist era. Because the interests that exist in post-communist society emerge from a state socialist framework that repressed the development of autonomous classes and made all groups dependent on the state, the organization of interests in post-communist society […] is necessarily very weak” (1993: 456).
A second explanation is usually given by the bargaining power of the BSP and the resulting electoral constraints for the UDF during the Round Table Talks in 1990 (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). It has been suggested that the short period between the last round of talks (March 1990) and the first “free” elections (June 1990) disabled the opposition to mobilize in an effective manner (Zic, 1998; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Furthermore, Elster et al have referred to these talks as “[…] an intra-party “factional coup” carried out by members of the communist party in an attempt to preserve the political leadership of the party” (1998: 261), providing an explanation for the reason why the UDF could not immediately secure a more favorable recipe for electoral success. Instead, some claim, the negotiated electoral formula favored the BSP with their inclination toward electoral success in geographically concentrated areas (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998). This reasoning seems to fit the conviction that, as Colomer reminds us “[…] political institutions […] often get chosen more because of calculations made during the process of change in a given country than because certain versions of these institutions are somehow uniquely appropriate to the economic structure, social patterns, or political tastes of that country and its citizens” (Colomer, 1995: 74).
One might, however, argue that it is vital to take into account these unique social patterns and political tastes of Bulgaria. After all, in spite of the seducing arguments made on the basis of institutional and electoral constraints, they fail to explain why opposition movements in other CEE countries – faced with similar state-society relations – were able to translate their desire for change into political power (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998). Furthermore, they do not provide a satisfactory answer as to why Bulgaria, within the established electoral constraints, keeps “returning to the left” after an electoral victory of the opposition (Kolarova, 1996). For these reasons, it might render our understanding of opposition movements in Bulgaria more complete if we were to look at the socio-political constraints that marked its transition to democracy.
Although Kolarova has already suggested that scholars ought to take into account the way communism is deeply routed in Bulgarian political culture, still very little attention is paid to the way it has shaped its post-communist society (Kolarova, 1996). In an attempt to contribute to this discussion, we would like to argue that Bulgaria has a “natural affinity” with communism. Furthermore, we would like to suggest that this “natural affinity” has played a crucial role in Bulgaria’s transition to democracy, to the extent that it has generated socio-political constraints for the opposition movements. We endorse our argument by referring to Przeworski’s distinction between democratizing the state and democratizing the regime. Specifically, the author notes that the former deals with institutions, whereas the latter reflects the interaction between those institutions and civil society (Przeworski, 1991). A regime, as he recalls, is thus “the ensemble of patterns, explicit or not, that determines the forms and channels of access to principal government positions, the characteristics of the actors who are admitted and excluded from such access, and the resources and strategies that they can use to gain access” (1991: 88). Keeping this distinction in mind, one might suggest that opposition in Bulgaria ought to be understood not so much as opposition against the regime as such, but rather against the state. In other words, it is entirely possible to democratize a state and thus change its institutional set-up, but that does not guarantee that the regime will automatically be democratized as well. After all, although the ‘input’ in Bulgarian society has been free from any formal constraints as they were built in under communist rule, the generated ‘output’ has not corresponded with what one would expect in a democratized state. This may imply that, free from formal constraints, Bulgarian society in the 1990s was still faced with informal constraints that are deeply embedded in its political culture. As suggested earlier, one should therefore perhaps interpret the democratization process in Bulgaria from a socio-political perspective. If we were to accept this explanation as a feasible one, it could shed some light on the returning electoral successes of the reformed communist party in the 1990s – in spite of the absence of institutional and electoral constraints. Furthermore, it might provide an alternative explanation for the relative weakness of opposition movements in pre-1989 Bulgaria. Before we can assess the feasibility of these socio-political constraints, however, it is necessary to scrutinize the underlying dynamics of the communist regime in Bulgaria – and thus, following Przeworski, look into its civil society.
When trying to understand the driving forces behind a civil society, it is important to keep in mind the social and political traditions of that particular society. Accordingly, Smolar points out that “[a]s used in Central and Eastern Europe, the notion of civil society never had much to do with the grand theoretical debates […]. To speak of civil society was instead to express a twofold opposition. The first dimension was opposition to authority. Civil society was “us”; the authorities were “them”. The second dimension was one in which civil society was held up in contradistinction to “the nation”, understood in hereditary, ethnic terms” (1996: 24).
This statement reminds us of, as we have mentioned before, the way the BSP has profiled itself as the savior and protector of the Bulgarian national identity. Specifically, the BSP has been known to play into the economic and ethnic concerns of the population (Vachudova, 2005; Elster, Offe & Preuss). Taking into account the way the ecological disasters in Ruse were portrayed as a ‘Romanian threat’ and the escalated situation with the Turkish minorities in the 1980s, (Baumgarti, 1993; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996), it becomes clearer why the BSP was able to secure its electoral success in 1990. Indeed, Elster et al note that “[i]n addition to protectionist and clientelistic advances, part of the politically successful appeal of the BSP has also been a strong emphasis on majority-ethnicity, i.e., on protecting the Bulgarian titular nation from some perceived “Turkish threat” (1998: 262).
It is beyond the scope of this article to scrutinize nationalist sentiment in Bulgaria. The relevance of this perceived Turkish threat, however, is that it plays into what we might call Bulgaria’s “natural affinity” with communism and, more importantly, its allegiance to the former Soviet Union (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998; Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996; Smolar, 1996). Keeping in mind that “[…] the issue of Soviet support (or even inspiration from the Soviet Union) was a crucial factor at the early, opening phases of the process of posttotalitarian transformations in Bulgarian politics” (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996: 179), it is vital for our understanding of opposition movements that we shed some light on this part of Bulgarian political culture.
The “natural affinity” with communism, it seems, rests on religious and historical grounds. Being affiliated with the Russian Orthodox Church, religion has played an important role in the formation of a Bulgarian identity among predominantly Christian CEE countries, generating a distinction between “us” and “them” (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998). More importantly, however, sharing a common Russian Orthodox Church also meant sharing a common sense of belonging. From a historical perspective, furthermore, Bulgaria used to be part of the Ottoman Empire which has repercussions for the complex present-day perception of Bulgarian identity. Specifically, the remembrance of oppression under Ottoman rule has strengthened the loyalty to and affinity with the former Soviet Union, which is widely regarded to be their savior. It was in fact, “[…] back in 1877, the military initiative of Tzarist Russia that helped the nation liberate itself from what still today is routinely referred to in Bulgaria as the “Turkish yoke”” (Elster, Offe & Preuss, 1998: 261). As a consequence of this strong allegiance, many scholars agree that the communist regime in Bulgaria has always been, certainly in comparison to its neighbors, very stable (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996; Vachudova, 2005). Being deprived from political, military or ideological squabbles with the former Soviet Union, therefore, the communist regime could continue to count on popular support. After all, as Elster et al clarify, “[…] the communist regime was not seen as being imposed by an unfriendly foreign power and therefore did not stir up questions of national sovereignty and anti-Russian sentiment” (1998: 54). On the contrary, the idea of formally integrating Bulgaria within the Soviet Union was even deemed by some to be a viable option (Elster, Offe & Preuss; Kolarova, 1996). As a result, opposition movements could not rely on the same legitimacy in Bulgaria as they could in neighboring countries, where many activists could simply refer to the harsh repression that many endured under communist rule (Kolarova, & Dimitrov, 1996).
Going back to our aforementioned hypotheses, one might suggest that the returning electoral successes of the reformed communist party could simply be a matter of “natural affinity” with communism. Perhaps the BSP was able to count on a reasonable amount of popular support in the 1990s, because the Bulgarian population did not perceive its experiences under communism in a very pejorative way. Similarly, one might argue that this “natural affinity” with communism did indeed generate socio-political constraints for the opposition movements which, at least initially, rendered them relatively weak. In other words, this “natural affinity” may provide an explanation as to why opposition in pre-1989 Bulgaria ought to be understood in terms of opposition against the state and not – contrary to opposition movements in other CEE countries – against the regime.
First, if we were to accept this explanation, it could clarify why opposition movements initially were so reluctant to assume a political label. Indeed, Kolarova and Dimitrov find it striking to note how these movements initially portrayed themselves as independent, mobilizing the population on mere apolitical stances – such as the issues of ecological disasters and human rights (Kolarova & Dimitrov, 1996). Although Baumgarti does not explicitly approach the ideological label of Ekoglasnost from a state-versus-regime perspective, he does point out that it could count on popular support mainly because it linked the ecological problems to the incompetence of the then BCP (Baumgarti, 1993). Drawing on Przeworski’s terminology, this might be an illustration of opposition against the communist state, without opposing the communist regime as such. Second, one might find similar dynamics to the way labor unions profiled themselves right before and during the transitional period. Specifically, Zic concludes his analysis with the finding that “[w]hen alternative worker activism did exist during the communist regimes in the form of unauthorized strikes and protests […], it was aimed at satisfying the immediate social and economic demands of workers at the local level. It was thus not aimed against the regime and the communist system per se, but was occurring within the system framework” (1998: 1). Third, we have briefly analyzed the UDF as the political party in which the most prominent activists from Bulgarian civil society found common ground and cooperated. As a result of that cooperation, as we have shown, the UDF was able to secure its electoral victory in 1991. It is interesting to note, however, that the UDF did not find it rewarding to proclaim any political label until the aftermath of the 1990 elections. It was, as Elster et al point out, “[t]he unexpected electoral defeat [that] made the UDF extremely bitter and pushed it to adopt a highly ideological and strong anti-communist stance” (1998: 121). In other words, it took electoral losses to provide an incentive to oppose the communist regime. Once again, this may be an illustration of the possibility that the UDF initially only opposed the communist state – without opposing the communist regime. Along the same lines, Kolarova claims that during the 1990 Round Table Talks “[…] most of the politically active Bulgarian dissidents in the late eighties had emerged more as critics and reformers within the ruling party than as active adversaries of the regime. Thus, the non-communist participants in the talks [i.e. the UDF] lacked the legitimacy of a true opposition” (Kolarova, 1996: 546). All these elements seem to suggest that prior to 1990, there was perhaps no strong incentive to overthrow the regime, because opposition meant, in fact, opposing the state.
Post-communism: break with the past?
In an attempt to formulate an answer to the question whether opposition movements in pre-1989 Bulgaria were weak, we have used electoral results as an indicator of their political strength. Given that the 1990 elections meant a landslide victory for the reformed communist party, the BSP, many scholars concluded that opposition movements barely had any political power in the era of transition to a democracy – tarnishing the very nature of that new-established democracy. In light of the 1991 victory of the opposition, however, we have argued that electoral outcomes do not always accurately reflect the constellation of a political landscape. After all, if opposition were intrinsically weak, it seems implausible that it would have gained tremendous political strength in less than a year. Therefore, we have scrutinized the question why opposition movements could only secure their electoral victory one year later than expected. More importantly so, we have reflected upon the mystery why there was a continuous alternation in power between the BSP and the UDF during the 1990s. Even if we were to accept that the opposition’s wings were clipped by institutional and electoral constraints – as has traditionally been suggested – the question still remains why the BSP was able to come back once those constraints were formally lifted. In other words, we have asked ourselves the question where the continuous appeal of the reformed communist party in the 1990s came from. Drawing on historical and religious reasons, we have argued that Bulgaria has, in fact, a “natural affinity” with communism.
These findings allow us to shed some light on an often underexposed topic. Opposition movements in pre-1989 Bulgaria were indeed rather weak, in the sense that they could not immediately secure an electoral victory during the first free elections of 1990. The reason why this was the case, as we have suggested, has perhaps less to do with institutional and electoral constraints, and more with socio-political constraints which are embedded in Bulgarian political culture. Specifically, we have argued, opposition in pre-1989 Bulgaria ought to be understood as opposition to the state – not to the regime. Opposing the regime, after all, would have meant opposing communism, which has been deeply routed in Bulgarian society.
Likewise, this “natural affinity” enables us to understand why the BSP has been able to maintain its popular support during the 1990s. Especially when taking into consideration the conviction of many scholars that the communist system in Bulgaria has always been very stable, it becomes understandable that the appeal of the BSP did not entirely cease to exist. Or, to put it in Kolarova’s words, the 1990s paradoxically rang in “[…] a new wave of nostalgia for the lost past, for the time when there was no freedom but more security” (1996: 552).
Laura Beke
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