We’re living through an era where populist, far-right leaders seem to grow more powerful the more embattled they become.
Their legal troubles, rather than halting their momentum, often act like rocket fuel on a bonfire.
The question is no longer just whether criminal convictions damage these figures. It’s now a question of the extent to which they actually benefit from being seen as political martyrs.
Take Marine Le Pen. The National Rally parliamentary leader was recently convicted of embezzling European Union funds, receiving a four-year prison sentence (two suspended), a €100,000 fine, and a five-year ban on running for office.
On paper, this ought to be catastrophic for Le Pen and her party. The shame of a convicted thief at the helm. Even more embarassing given she was widely expected to run in France’s 2027 presidential election.
And yet, her party’s response has been anything but apologetic. That alone would have been outrageous a generation ago.
But, in line with the apparent 21st century approach to convictions, Le Pen and her allies have framed the ruling as a politically motivated attack. A nefarious tool of the establishment to silence its strongest opponent through the courts instead of the ballot box.
The fact that there’s documented evidence, including internal emails, suggesting she knew all about the misuse of EU funds? Irrelevant. Swept aside in favour of the more rousing narrative: the oppressed victim.
We saw the same story play out with Trump, whose legal troubles, including a recent conviction in New York, seemed only to strengthen his connection with his base.
His supporters don’t just forgive him, or turn a blind-eye, they redouble their support, convinced he’s a victim targeted by a corrupt deep-state, desperate to keep their saviour out of power.
The phrase “witch hunt” gets thrown around so often it’s practically lost all meaning.
And yet, it works.
It didn’t start with Trump either. The same occurred with Populist Berlusconi in Italy. After facing a string of scandals and convictions, including for tax fraud, he remained influential in the Italian political scene for several decades, leaving his political opponents scratching their heads.
In the Netherlands, Geert Wilders was convicted of inciting discrimination. What happened next? His party surged in popularity.
In each of these cases, the narrative of political persecution was carefully cultivated, and it resonated. The ‘people’ weren’t buying it. It was a hoax, designed to bring down their hero.
What’s really going on here?
Why do criminal convictions, which theoretically should logically disqualify someone from public office, and invite public disdain, so often end up giving the guilty a leg up? A conviction seems to be a popularity supercharger, rather than a moment of national shame.
A lot of it is about public trust in institutions, or rather, the lack of it. These leaders thrive on stirring the distrust. Courts, parliaments, media, they’re all in on it. The corrupt managerial elite, the satanic, impenetrable enemy.
So when the judiciary takes appropriate action, it only reinforces what their supporters already believe. The system is corrupt, rigged, and their brave heroic leader is the only one fighting for their corner.
This is the emotional, tormented heart of far-right populism. It’s ‘us versus them’. ‘They’ are out to get us and our hero is out to save us.
Legal battles play perfectly into this. It becomes less about what actually happened and more about what the conviction represents. It’s not that “Le Pen broke the rules” and stole public money, it’s “they’re trying to stop her because she’s winning.” They believe the elites are so terrified that they need to invent criminal convictions to harm their chances. But, phew, the heroes supporters can see right through that one.
The media doesn’t help at all. Sympathetic outlets magnify the tragic martyrdom narrative and sidestep any information related to the facts.
Social media is even worse, particularly on those that enable their owner’s algorithm-fuelled ‘freedom of speech’.
Leaders can speak directly to their base, bypassing traditional media, offering unfiltered fury, denial, and rallying support with a single post.
When people like Trump and Elon Musk publicly back Le Pen, it reinforces the idea that she’s part of a global anti-elite struggle, not just a national political figure facing legal consequences for her criminal actions.
I’m not saying all claims of political persecution are created equal. But there is a definite line between genuine authoritarian crackdowns and populist self-victimisation.
The challenge for us is that the difference often gets blurred, especially when supporters are already primed to see any accusation as more evidence of a conspiracy against their hero.
Convictions don’t weaken these leaders. In fact, they become part of the brand narrative. Tommy Robinson, once believed to be nothing more than a mouthy racist, has been elevated to the ranks of ‘political prisoner’ by Elon Musk.
Of course, they can be a double-edged sword, in that they present logistical challenges, bans from office, legal costs, reputational risks, and so on. But they offer a potent opportunity to stir emotion and garner support, and this aspect of the story seems to be rising to the forefront.
For populist leaders already viewed as oppressed outsiders, being cast as a political prisoner is a gift.
So as we head toward France’s next election, don’t be surprised if Marine Le Pen’s conviction doesn’t hurt her at all. In fact, it might just be the thing that propels her even further.