A portrait of Stefanos Kasselakis in Syntagma Square, Athens, Greece, on June 6, 2024, during a pre-election rally of SYRIZA - Progressive Alliance, ahead of the European Elections, took place on June 9, 2024. (Photo by George Schinas/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
In January 2015, Syriza (the Coalition of the Radical Left) swept into power in Greece, riding a wave of public anger against austerity measures imposed by the Troika — the European Commission, European Central Bank (ECB), and the International Monetary Fund.
Syriza’s victory was a bold challenge to neoliberal orthodoxy and brought hope to leftist movements worldwide.
For millions, the party symbolised the possibility of an alternative to the grinding austerity policies that had devastated lives across Southern Europe. Yet, within months, Syriza capitulated to the same austerity regime it had vowed to dismantle.
This trajectory — hope, confrontation and disillusionment — offers crucial lessons for the left. What happens when movements grounded in grassroots resistance ascend to power? Can a radical government hold out in the face of entrenched neoliberal structures?
Syriza did not emerge in a vacuum. Its rise was shaped by the broader anti-austerity movements that erupted in Greece after the global financial crisis of 2008.
In exchange for financial bailouts, Greece was required to implement severe austerity measures, including deep cuts to wages, pensions and public services. These policies plunged millions into poverty, with unemployment peaking at 27%. Austerity became a symbol of national humiliation, imposed by external forces.
The huge anti-austerity protests gave rise to new forms of grassroots organisation that sought to provide immediate relief while building alternative structures of solidarity.
Among these were the neighbourhood assemblies, which became spaces for direct democracy where citizens could deliberate on issues. Solidarity networks emerged to address urgent needs, distributing food, clothing and medicine to those left destitute by austerity.
The Greek left — comprising anarchists, communists and others — has a long and proud history of anti-fascism and these networks extended their reach to include migrants and refugees, who were among the most vulnerable in Greek society.
In the midst of the crisis, migrant solidarity initiatives — such as reception centres, social kitchens, health clinics and legal aid groups — challenged the xenophobic narratives propagated by the neo-Nazi Golden Dawn, which counted many police officers among its members.
The party had gained traction by scapegoating migrants for the crisis caused by austerity. Known for its violent attacks on migrants, leftists and LGBTQ+ people, it thrived on xenophobic rhetoric and street-level intimidation.
At its peak in 2012, Golden Dawn was the third-largest party in parliament, amplifying fears of rising authoritarianism in Greece. The Greek left confronted it directly, including in street battles.
Syriza’s strength lay in its ability to articulate the demands of the anti-austerity movement in the political sphere.
Under the leadership of Alexis Tsipras, Syriza presented itself as a radical alternative to the mainstream parties that had overseen Greece’s economic collapse. It rejected austerity, calling for debt restructuring, increased public investment and the restoration of workers’ rights. For a population battered by years of crisis, Syriza offered a message of hope.
Syriza’s victory in the January 2015 elections marked a historic moment for the left, not just in Greece but globally. For the first time, a radical left party had come to power in Europe with a mandate to challenge neoliberal policies.
Yet, from the outset, Syriza faced enormous difficulties. The Troika made it clear that there would be no concessions on Greece’s debt obligations. The ECB restricted access to liquidity for Greek banks, creating a financial chokehold designed to force the government into compliance.
The finance minister, Yanis Varoufakis, became the public face of Syriza’s resistance. Armed with academic expertise and charisma, he argued that austerity was both economically destructive and morally indefensible.
“The Greek crisis,” he wrote, “was never just about debt; it was about crushing hope.” He proposed reforms that would ease Greece’s debt burden while allowing the country to rebuild its economy. These proposals were met with outright hostility by the Troika.
“The strong do as they will, and the weak suffer as they must. This was the essence of our negotiations with the Troika,” Varoufakis observed.
The turning point came in July 2015 when Syriza called a referendum on the Troika’s latest bailout proposal. Against the odds, 61% of Greeks voted to reject the deal, a stunning act of defiance that demonstrated the depth of popular opposition to austerity.
For a brief moment, it seemed that Syriza might succeed in charting a new path. But within days, Tsipras capitulated, accepting a bailout package even harsher than the one the referendum had rejected.
This decision shocked Syriza’s supporters and devastated its grassroots base. The party that had promised to stand firm against austerity now appeared to have abandoned its principles. While Tsipras argued that the alternative — economic collapse and expulsion from the eurozone — was too great a risk, many saw the capitulation as a betrayal.
Syriza’s rapid rise and subsequent capitulation offer several important lessons for the left. The first is the necessity of maintaining strong connections to grassroots movements.
Syriza’s electoral victory was made possible by the energy and organisation of anti-austerity protests, but once in office, the party became increasingly removed from these movements.
Popular assemblies and solidarity networks, which had been central to the struggle, were sidelined in favour of parliamentary processes. This isolation left Syriza vulnerable when it faced pressure from the Troika.
A second lesson is the need to anticipate the structural constraints of governance. Syriza believed it could negotiate a better deal within the framework of the European Union, but the Troika’s intransigence exposed the limits of this strategy.
For leftist movements, this raises a broader question: is it possible to achieve radical change from within neoliberal institutions, or must these institutions be confronted and dismantled? As Varoufakis later reflected, “If you enter negotiations without a credible threat to walk away, you are already defeated.”
The lack of international solidarity also played a role in Syriza’s downfall. While the party’s initial electoral success thrilled the left across Europe and beyond, there was no coordinated effort to resist the Troika’s demands.
This isolation left Greece to face the full weight of European finance capital alone. For the global left, this underscores the importance of building cross-border alliances capable of confronting transnational capitalism.
The Syriza experience is both a cautionary tale and a source of inspiration. It shows us that with the right kind of movement xenophobia can be directly confronted and the real forces causing poverty and precarity identified, explained and contested.
It also shows that with the right kind of political instrument, popular discontent and struggle can be organised into electoral success for the left.
And it shows us that when a left party in government becomes distant from its base and overly focused on forms of formal electoral politics at the expense of popular organisation and mobilisation, it cannot resist the intense pressures that will inevitably be exerted by powerful forces.
Popular mobilisation cannot just be the route into political power for the left. It must also be the way to remain in power, and to be able to hold the line on progressive policies while in power.
Dr Imraan Buccus is senior research associate at ASRI.