Futures That Have Already Been

These are hard times for us (and not just for us, to be clear)—the old farts who still believe in the values of liberal democracy and preach about them. Sometimes I feel like those American homeless people who roam around bus stations with shopping carts full of junk, harassing indifferent passersby with shouts about sin, doom, and salvation.

From one (extreme) side, we're scorned as leftist sellouts privileging dubious minorities and individuals at the expense of honest citizens. From the other (extreme) side, we're accused of being naive and corrupt servants of Western devils and capital. And in between are those who often pay lip service to democratic values but couldn’t care less when it really matters. Human rights, the rule of law, democracy—blah, blah, blah. Once a year they say “never again” and move on. Neither left nor right, just forward.

Democracy isn’t going well for us. We’re living in a time of widespread discontent, anger, and fear about the future. It’s not the first time in history. And historically, such periods haven’t brought much good. The question is whether we are capable of learning from history—or will we passively accept that the future will painfully resemble those past episodes any reasonable person would want to avoid, not just forget?

A frequent and perfectly rational objection I often hear when defending liberal democracy is that this system has never truly worked—that in the end, it always benefitted a few and left the majority behind. And yet—though I risk confirming the suspicions of those who see me as a backward-looking old idealist—I would dare say there was a time when liberal democracy more or less worked.

I’m not saying we should go back to the past, but we can learn from it, try to extract what worked under specific circumstances, and consider whether something similar can be adapted for today’s challenges.

If ever, liberal democracy worked in Western Europe during the immediate post-WWII period. The reason was fairly simple: it may have been the only time in modern history when human rights and political freedoms were in harmony with social rights. Of course, it wasn’t an ideal society—not even close, especially when viewed from today’s perspective. But it was a positive trend.

We must understand historical periods not as snapshots but as films. That time was marked by reconstruction, growth, and optimism about the future. After the bloodiest conflict and atrocity in human history, Europe was getting back on its feet.

Critics will say it was due to unique historical circumstances that can’t be replicated today. But postwar reconstruction was not just historical determinism. History—and the future—is made by people.

The defining feature of the postwar period was political consensus that reconstruction must be based on social justice and solidarity. That’s a lesson we still haven’t learned—or refuse to. And it’s a big reason things are going so wrong today. There was a shared belief that without social justice, there is no democracy, no security, no sustainable economic or social development.

Since then, we’ve had systems offering “social justice” without freedom, and others offering freedom (of capital) without social justice. But we’ve consistently failed to combine freedom and solidarity.

Postwar European politicians, mostly from conservative and Christian democratic parties, pursued policies that would make today’s self-styled heirs of those traditions’ hair stand on end—if they still had any. Public education, public healthcare, investment in infrastructure, housing, high employment, care for the unemployed and the socially vulnerable—these all had a cost.

Across the Atlantic, during the Eisenhower administration (a Republican, remember), the top tax rate on corporate profits was over 90%. But there was consensus that it was a price worth paying.

What drove these politicians wasn’t ideological altruism but memories of the Great Depression, inflation, social crisis, and the catastrophic consequences Europe (and others) had suffered. Yes, you’ll say, but that was due to the exceptional economic conditions of the postwar boom. True—but that boom didn’t just happen. In the early postwar years, many parts of Europe were heading toward another 1930s-style crisis. What changed that was the Marshall Plan.

A reminder to those who fixate only on (often valid) critiques of the U.S.: the U.S. militarily intervened twice in one century to save Europe from itself—and then paid again to make sure Europe didn’t collapse a third time.

Another important motivator for European social concern at the time was the Soviet Union. That may sound odd now, but back then few (if any) could predict the Soviet totalitarian experiment would collapse into a prison rather than a worker’s paradise. Western governments cared for their workers in part out of fear that they might otherwise be tempted by sovietization.

That story ended in the 1970s and 80s. First came dramatic economic changes: the collapse of Bretton Woods, two oil crises, and the third industrial revolution. After Hungary in 1956 and especially Prague in 1968, hardly anyone in the West still believed in the workers’ paradise of the East. When The Gulag Archipelago was published in 1973, even the most hardened romantics lost their illusions.

The West began to celebrate its ideological victory, which would be confirmed after the Soviet collapse (helped along by its disastrous invasion of Afghanistan). But the West had its own problems. And this time, in responding to economic crises and inflation—especially in traditional industries like steel, mining, and heavy industry—governments forgot the lessons of half a century earlier.

Instead of addressing the social costs of necessary reforms, they imposed ruthless neoliberal policies: low taxes, reckless deregulation, sell-offs of unprofitable state industries, privatization of public services. The Iron Lady led the charge, the most ruthless but far from the only one who embraced a system where money was to flow upward and, eventually, trickle down.

We’re still waiting for the trickle. The social consequences are worsening. Neoliberalism is still with us. And for some, inexplicably, still seen as the only salvation.

Yes, of course, the shocks of the 1970s demanded new responses. Propping up outdated industries and artificial employment would have ended badly. Demographic change was also a major factor—Europe was aging, and still is. But neoliberal shock therapy brought only short-term gains—and even those were mostly superficial. Long-term, it’s been catastrophic.

A society that systematically marginalizes large swaths of its population can never be democratic, secure, or successful. Privatization initially improved corporate balance sheets—owners could abandon unprofitable but socially vital activities and shed “excess” workers. State coffers filled from sales—but also drained rapidly due to rising unemployment and poverty.

During Margaret Thatcher’s rule, public expenditure levels stayed about the same as before. What changed was the redistribution of wealth and a social tsunami that deepened as capital exploited globalization without economic or social safeguards, relocating production for higher profits. No one considered the political and social consequences of creating a massive pool of marginalized, forgotten, and increasingly angry citizens. It was only a matter of time before someone began exploiting that frustration and fear of the future.

And that was just the beginning.

Thatcher was followed by Tony Blair and his “Third Way.” Blair—recently a guest at the Bled Forum—is still a role model for many centrist politicians who preach "not left, not right, just forward." Yet his damage to democratic values may even surpass that of his political predecessor and rival.

First, because he essentially continued Thatcher’s neoliberal policies, masking her social indifference with sanctimonious emphasis on human rights and civil liberties. His hypocrisy—especially in his fervent support for Bush’s invasion of Iraq and his one-sided stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—did irreparable harm to the credibility of democratic values.

To the marginalized masses, Blairism was proof that human rights were just tools for granting privileges to the undeserving at their expense. Then came the financial crisis, whose costs were dumped on taxpayers—thanks in part to the EU’s own missteps.

To many who paid the highest price for rescuing banks, democracy has come to mean a system where profits are privatized and losses socialized.

The way out of this mess won’t be easy. But we must find it—if we don’t want to live through one of those futures that’s already happened. Because we might not survive it next time.

The path forward is a firm political and social consensus on justice and solidarity at every level, and integrating these values into solutions for all social and global challenges—from technology to economy to environment and politics.

This is no revolution or left-right war. It’s about honoring the principles written into Slovenia’s constitution. It’s about the survival of liberal democracy—still the only model based on the idea that freedom and justice do not have to be traded for each other.

Neoliberal slogans, still parroted by parts of Slovenian politics and business, waste our precious time and threaten our future, stability, sustainable development, freedom, and democracy.

Our constitution declares that Slovenia is a social state. Let’s stop acting like that’s just empty rhetoric or a sneaky leftist conspiracy. It’s the foundation—the prerequisite—for fulfilling all other constitutional values, including the protection of private property and free enterprise.

At least in a society where people– as the Slovenian anthem aspires - no more shall foes, but neighbors be.