That Damn Liberal Democracy

These days, mentioning liberal democracy feels like letting out a fart during a philharmonic concert—met with disgust and scorn from all sides. From the right, I get called a far-left radical; from the left, a centrist, neoliberal elitist. I have no problem with people disagreeing with me or criticizing me—what bothers me is that too often, the arguments arise because we’re not even talking about the same thing. So here’s a quick overview of how I understand liberalism, neoliberalism, and liberal democracy. Yes, all three terms share the same root, but that doesn’t mean they should be thrown into the same pot. I don’t expect to convince everyone, but I hope we can at least agree on what it is we disagree about.

Let’s start with political liberalism. It’s one of the traditional political orientations, flanked on the left by social democracy and other left-wing parties, and on the right by Christian democrats, people’s parties, and their kin. Liberals champion individual rights and political freedoms, which in principle includes human rights and minority rights. Where each liberal party falls on the political spectrum depends on its stance toward economic issues, tax policy, and public spending. There are big differences among them—from social liberals to apologists for the harshest forms of neoliberalism.

In America, the terminology is flipped. Liberal is a slur hurled by the political right—especially the far right—at politicians like Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Alt-right columnist Kurt Schlichter recently wrote that “America can only stay united if liberals accept values like freedom, tolerance, and the Constitution—and abandon their obsession with socialism, cultural fascism, and being jerks.” Americans also differentiate between social and fiscal liberalism. A social liberal supports human rights, political freedoms, and minority rights. A fiscal liberal advocates higher taxes, more public spending, and greater social justice. Those who in Europe would be called fiscal liberals are referred to across the Atlantic as fiscal conservatives.

Next, there’s neoliberalism—and yes, Americans also call it that. That it cannot be simplistically equated with liberalism is evidenced by the fact that Bernie Sanders has never been accused of being a neoliberal. Neoliberalism is an economic doctrine and social model built on extreme fiscal conservatism—i.e., as low taxes and public spending as possible. Alongside that comes aggressive deregulation, as any state intervention—even in the name of legitimate goals like environmental protection—is seen as illegitimate interference with the freedom of capital. The neoliberal trinity is rounded out by the push for widespread privatization of public services and the fetishization of the market as the only effective mechanism for managing society and meeting social needs.

Then there’s liberal democracy—a concept that many people now angrily conflate with the previous two. My former high school defense and civil protection teacher Janez Janša, in a recent piece titled “Slovenians and Europe,” complained about those who elevate liberal democracy above all else, claiming it’s just one form of democracy among many. Technically, he’s right. Just like it’s true that oxygen is merely one of many gases. There’s also laughing gas, which causes euphoria, then drowsiness, and in high doses, respiratory problems and brain damage. We also have carbon dioxide, which is currently doing a fine job preventing black panthers from returning to Slovenia’s forests. And then there’s hydrogen cyanide, better known as Zyklon B, introduced to the world by a democratically elected politician known for his hostility toward liberal democracy and its values. So yes—many gases. Many democracies. But not all are equal.

Democracy by itself guarantees only the chance to cast a vote at regular intervals. If there’s only one option to vote for, that’s people’s democracy. North Korea celebrated such a democracy just last Sunday: only one name on the ballot, near 100% turnout, and near 100% victory. For democracy to be minimally pluralistic, voters must be offered multiple real choices. Iran, for instance, offers such a setup—you never know whether the hardliners or the moderates will win. It may be pluralistic, but it’s not liberal. Then there’s illiberal democracy, where multiple parties exist on paper, but the ruling group so thoroughly controls and abuses the levers of power that competitors stand no chance. Nicolás Maduro’s Venezuela illustrates this well. It’s also an increasingly popular model among some of our neighbors.

And then there’s this damn liberal democracy, which—on top of free elections—provides effective protection for human rights, minority rights, political freedoms, and maintains checks on executive power through separation of powers, independent courts, free media, and civil society.

The confusion, however, lies not just in the terms themselves, but even more in how they relate to one another—a minefield of oversimplifications, manipulations, and misunderstandings.

Let’s break it down:

Many people believe that only liberals defend liberal democracy. Not true. In fact, today there are quite a few so-called liberal parties in Europe that clearly don’t care for liberal democracy—and actively undermine it. Liberal democracy is a political and social model developed after WWII, as a response to fascism and Nazism, primarily by Christian democrats in France, Germany, and Italy. It was further shaped by parties across the political spectrum—left, right, and center. They differed greatly, but all (at least on paper) shared a commitment to the institutions of liberal democracy.

Outside of this spectrum lie the populist far-right and far-left movements and politicians who, in the name of “the people” or “the working class,” put themselves above democratic institutions, seeking to delegitimize political opponents and seize and hold onto power unchecked.

More complex is the relationship between liberal democracy and neoliberalism. Many neoliberal politicians wrap themselves in liberal-democratic values, leading some to assume the two are inseparable. That’s false. I’m convinced that the relationship between liberal democracy and neoliberalism is not a partnership—but a conflict. It was neoliberalism that created the conditions for populism’s rise, which now threatens liberal democracy. The current crisis of liberal democracy stems from the social injustice baked into neoliberalism’s DNA. Because capital failed to “trickle down” and develop a social conscience, large swaths of the population—especially in Western democracies—have been pushed to the economic, social, and political margins. The resulting frustration and rage have been skillfully exploited by populists to undermine democratic institutions and discredit political competition.

Understanding this conflict is essential if we’re to avoid two major fallacies:

That tearing down liberal democracy’s institutions, as some of the increasingly “brown” Yellow Vests in France attempt, is a path to social justice.

That liberal democracy can be saved without serious social reform, as much of European politics seems to believe.

Without defeating neoliberalism, we won’t defeat populism. And vice versa.

But this isn’t a task for just one part of the political spectrum. The responsibility lies with everyone—left, center, and right. I find a bit of hope in that earlier-mentioned piece on Slovenians and Europe. The author laments that liberal democracy is now defended not only by liberals and socialists but that “even some Christian-democratic thinkers and politicians have taken the bait.”

You have no idea how much I hope he’s right on that point.