National Interest

by Azeem Ibrahim

    To combat authoritarian interventions within Democratic societies, democracies must agree on a shared legal definition of “transnational repression.”

    Democratic governments have spent the past decade debating how authoritarianism erodes freedom within the borders of a particular country. Far less attention has been paid to how authoritarianism now operates across them. In recent years, Iranian operatives plotted to kidnap a dissident from the streets of New York. Chinese authorities established covert overseas policy operations to intimidate diaspora communities in Vancouver and Canberra. Russian intelligence services carried out assassinations and poisonings of critics on European soil. Indian agents allegedly orchestrated the killing of a Sikh activist in Canada.

    These cases are not anomalies. They are manifestations of a growing global practice known as transnational repression. Transnational repression (TNR), when states reach beyond their territory to silence, intimidate, or punish critics abroad, has become one of the most systematic and least understood threats facing open societies today.

    From killings and abductions to digital harassment, coercion of family members and abuse of international institutions, transnational repression is no longer an exceptional tactic reserved for the most brazen regimes. It is a normalized instrument of statecraft. Democracies remain dangerously unprepared.

    The problem is not merely that transnational repression is growing. It has evolved faster than our legal frameworks, policy vocabularies and institutional reflexes. Too often, cases are treated as isolated criminal incidents, diplomatic disputes, or human rights violations rather than as part of a coordinated strategy by authoritarian states to project power, discipline diasporas and undermine democratic sovereignty.

    This evolution matters. Historically, transnational repression relied on blunt force such as assassinations, renditions, or forced returns. Today, it is increasingly subtle, scalable and deniable. Digital technologies have transformed TNR into a low-cost, high-impact enterprise. Encrypted messaging applications enable harassment campaigns. Spyware allows regimes to monitor dissidents across continents. Social media facilitates smear campaigns and intimidation by proxy. Digital financial tools enable asset freezes and economic coercion far from home.

    Equally concerning is how authoritarian states are learning from one another. Tactics pioneered in one context, including the misuse of extradition requests, the abuse of international policing mechanisms and the targeting of relatives left behind, are rapidly replicated elsewhere. The methods of transnational repression are diffusing and becoming part of the standard authoritarian playbook.

    Democratic responses remain fragmented. Part of the reason is conceptual. Despite growing awareness, there is still no widely adopted, legally grounded definition of transnational repression. Without a clear definition, governments struggle to train law enforcement, collect data, prosecute perpetrators, or coordinate with allies. Victims fall through the bureaucratic cracks. Host countries fail to recognize violations of their own sovereignty. Perpetrators exploit ambiguity.

    A clearer definition is not an academic exercise. It is a policy prerequisite. It allows governments to distinguish transnational repression from ordinary crime, espionage, or diplomacy. It enables the use of existing legal tools such as sanctions, visa bans, asset freezes and criminal statutes within a coherent framework. It also creates the foundation for international coordination.

    Encouragingly, momentum is beginning to build in Washington. The Transnational Repression Policy Act, introduced in the US Congress in the summer of 2025, is a welcome and overdue step. It signals that the United States is beginning to treat transnational repression not only as a human rights issue, but as a threat to national sovereignty, public safety and the integrity of democratic space. Legislation alone, however, is not enough. Laws require an intellectual infrastructure, including definitions, evidence, comparative analysis and policy design.

    That is why the launch of the Transnational Repression Scholars Working Group by the New Lines Institute for Strategy and Policy matters. The Working Group, which joins other ongoing efforts in civil society and policy circles, brings together scholars, legal experts, technologists and practitioners to do what governments cannot easily do on their own. It maps the evolving toolkit of transnational repression, identifies patterns across regions and translates research into actionable policy.

    Transnational repression does not emanate from a single country or target a single community. It affects journalists, activists, academics, business leaders and ordinary diaspora members from Central Asia and the Middle East, as well as China and the African continent. Understanding how tactics differ and where they converge is essential to designing effective countermeasures.

    Equally important is developing a working legal definition of transnational repression that democratic governments can adopt and adapt. This is the missing link between awareness and action. Without it, responses will remain ad hoc, reactive and uneven.

    The stakes are high. When authoritarian regimes can silence critics in London, Toronto, Berlin, or Washington, they do more than harm individuals. They export fear into democratic societies, corrode the rule of law and signal that borders no longer protect freedom. Left unchecked, transnational repression will reshape the global balance between open and closed systems not through tanks or missiles, but through intimidation and impunity.

    Democracies still have an advantage in transparency, coordination and the rule of law. But advantages unused are advantages lost. Taking transnational repression seriously requires naming it clearly, understanding it rigorously and responding collectively. The cost of delay will not be measured only in broken lives, but in the gradual erosion of democratic sovereignty itself.