How Do Democracies Die?

A little over two years ago, I was invited to a conference in Washington where we discussed how to save liberal democracy. Speaking before me was Francis Fukuyama, author of the famous thesis about the end of history—which has not stood the test of time particularly well. He expressed deep concern about the state of democracy in the US, then added that the situation in Europe was very different and there was therefore no reason to panic.

In my response, I told the joke about Haso, who found refuge in Sweden during the war, while Mujo stayed in Bosnia.

“How is it in Sweden?” Mujo asks him on the phone. “Eh, the Swedes are years behind us,” Haso replies. “What do you mean, years behind us?” “Peace, coexistence, everyone loves each other.”

I had the audience laughing to tears. Everyone—except Fukuyama.

Since then a great deal has changed on both sides of the Atlantic—mostly for the worse. The question of whether Europe really is still “behind” the US is no longer rhetorical, and still less funny. Since January this year we have been witnessing there a textbook example of how authoritarian populism can weaken all democratic institutions and safeguards in an extremely short time.

First, the terms. Here we still have the habit of slapping the label populism on all sorts of things. Every time a politician plays on emotions or responds in a way that takes into account the wishes and expectations of the majority, we start shouting about populism. Far from it that we can always expect optimal decisions in such cases, but on the other hand, a politician who disregards the mood, emotions and expectations of citizens will not get far in a democracy. What is more, it is precisely unresponsiveness and arrogance toward voters and their legitimate expectations that have largely caused the loss of trust in politics and, consequently, in democracy.

Authoritarian populism is something else. It is a political paradigm that stokes and exploits hardship, frustration and fear about social, economic, security and other issues in order to set itself up as the sole legitimate representative of the “will of the people,” and from that position to delegitimize political competition and all democratic safeguards—from the courts to the media and civil society.

The starting point of authoritarian populism is the identification of scapegoats—social groups that, in a given context, are most suitable for directing accumulated popular discontent at. First you must find those who, in a given society, have the greatest potential for channeling popular fury. In the US these are certainly illegal immigrants; for good measure they have added transgender people, same-sex couples and—ultimately—all non-white Americans, who supposedly enjoyed an undeserved privileged position in the past. For authoritarian populism to succeed, it is essential that we no longer see our fellow human being as a mother, father, child, colleague or neighbor, but as a foreign body in the body of the nation.

Once a populist politician manages to weaken, discredit or subordinate the constitutional and legal safeguards of the rights and freedoms of these groups, the way is open to removing all safeguards for all citizens. To make this process as fast and efficient as possible, the members of these minorities must be stigmatized and dehumanized—so that the dismantling of democracy is not hampered by unwanted qualms born of compassion, humanity or other woke conspiracies.

Far from it that all the frustrations populism exploits are made up. Democratic politics has certainly committed enough mistakes and inconsistencies to offer a skilled demagogue plenty of opportunities to pour fuel on the fire. Many of the most radical measures, and the most dangerous for democracy, are adopted in response to real traumatic events and legitimate feelings of concern. In the US, too, most observers acknowledge that changes in migration policy, and above all greater control of the borders, were needed. Security—including regarding migrant flows—is a legitimate expectation of citizens and an obligation of any responsible government. But that does not mean the end justifies all means, including the hunting of women and children on American streets by masked guys with automatic rifles.

In such a situation, the courts come under pressure first. When they begin to perform their constitutional role and challenge obviously unconstitutional and unlawful measures of the executive, they are presented as enemies of the people. If they do not persevere in their mission and submit, they remain neutered with regard to future unconstitutional acts as well—not only against particular social groups but against all citizens. No responsible democratic government can afford to take decisions it knows in advance to be constitutionally or legally questionable, since by doing so it directly undermines one of the most important foundations of a democratic society—an independent judiciary.

The second democratic safeguard—independent media—has for some time been unable to perform its role. Economically threatened and faced with a deliberately encouraged loss of trust and with competition from social media controlled by big platforms and extremely rich individuals, quality journalism is under great pressure and increasingly forced to howl with the wolves.

As for critical civil society, we “know” anyway that it is a woke conspiracy and Soros’s hirelings—so let’s not waste words on it.

When democratic institutions and trust in them begin to collapse, everything becomes possible overnight—including using the army against one’s own citizens.

All this, of course, is happening in the US. In Europe—to paraphrase Haso—we are still lagging behind for now. How big that lag is, and whether it grows or shrinks in future, still depends mainly on us: on the responsibility of our politicians and on the engagement of us, the citizens.

The recent elections in the Netherlands showed that things can be different—that voters can be won over with a positive and optimistic discourse. Far from the extremists being definitively defeated there, but still: a way exists. If we are running out of determination, let us think of the alternatives. As a young Ukrainian woman told me recently: “We can’t afford despondency. It’s too late for pessimism.”

Finally, I owe you an answer to the question in the title:

How do democracies die?

Slowly at first. Then faster and faster.