Democracy, as once imagined, was never truly born in the way its idealists had hoped. It arrived not as a promise fulfilled, but as a compromise negotiated, partial, flawed and vulnerable. We envisioned it as a system that would guarantee dignity, equality, and the rule of law for all, instead, it has often served as a fragile façade, propped up by power structures that resist accountability. Today, even that imperfect model appears to be in retreat.
What little progress had been made is now backsliding, quietly, steadily. The language of freedom is still spoken, but hollowed of substance. Democratic institutions exist, but are increasingly captured, corroded from within by authoritarian tendencies, populist manipulation, and the subtle tyranny of mass surveillance. We are not witnessing the fall of democracy, we are witnessing the fading of its illusion.
According to the Economist Intelligence Unit, only 6.6 percent of the world’s population now lives under a full democracy. In the last ten years, the number of authoritarian regimes has risen from 52 to 60. In countries that still carry the outward appearance of democracies, increasingly authoritarian tendencies are hardening into permanence. Institutions once considered the guardians of liberty are being shackled. From Hungary and Italy to even the USA, we are witnessing executive powers being used to bypass legislatures, judicial checks, and constitutional balances. The soul of democracy, rooted in checks and balances, is being suffocated behind closed doors and under legal pretexts.
Populism has emerged as the dominant political language of the day, one that thrives not on ideas but on enmity. Fuelled by resentment and exclusion, populist leaders present themselves as the singular voice of the people, branding dissent as betrayal and opposition as treason. The political opponent is no longer a rival but an existential threat. This toxic climate has reframed patriotism itself, where love for the nation is measured by loyalty to a single leader or party. In this moral inversion, to criticize the state is to betray it, to question authority is to invite condemnation.
In the world’s two largest democracies, India and the USA, this pattern is unmistakable. In India, dissenters are labelled as anti-nationals or Pakistani agents. In the USA, those who express support for Palestinian rights are smeared as anti-Semitic. Universities, once the last bastions of free thought and dissent, are now under siege. In the Vietnam era, student protests were seen as a democratic virtue, even when they burned flags and denounced the state. The very spaces where freedom of expression once flourished are now being fenced off, ideologically and literally.
Authoritarianism is advancing hand-in-hand with hyper-surveillance technologies. The digital panopticon now allows states to monitor not just actions but thoughts. Tools like facial recognition and AI-driven sentiment analysis enable governments to predict dissent before it arises. Social media, messages, and emails are all subject to scrutiny. Citizens are tagged, speech filtered, and consciences mapped. Technology, once a tool of freedom, has become tyranny’s ally. As regimes tighten control, the press, once a check on power, is under siege. Independent media face censorship, financial ruin, and threats. In this climate, democratic discourse fades, leaving an echo chamber where only the powerful speak— and others listen or are silenced.
We stand at the edge of a world losing faith in its own ideals. The myths that once inspired our political consciousness are fading. Democracy is not being overthrown by force, but eroded by apathy, manipulation, and fear. In its place emerges a new order, efficient, omnipresent, and ruthlessly unfree. History won’t mark this as a dramatic fall, but as a slow, silent betrayal, one that unfolded while we scrolled, liked, and shared. The age of comforting illusions is drawing to a close.Â
Courts too are not immune. Around the world, judicial systems are bending under political pressure or becoming complicit in silencing dissent. According to the Rule of Law Index, 81 percent of countries have experienced a decline in adherence to the rule of law over the last ten years. Courts have failed in their role as defenders of civil liberties and guardians of constitutionalism. Legal systems that were supposed to be impartial are now tools of the ruling elite, used to protect the powerful and punish the powerless.
Perhaps the most glaring failure of modern democracy lies in its inability to address economic inequality. While global wealth has increased, its distribution has become grotesquely skewed. In the USA, the top one percent owns ten times more wealth than the bottom 50 percent. In India, the top one percent controls 40 percent of the country’s wealth, while the bottom half scrapes by with a mere three percent. The economic disparities in modern-day India now surpass those of the British colonial era. This economic injustice is not a bug in the system, it is the system. Democracy and capitalism, once thought to be twin engines of progress, now work together to perpetuate privilege, entrench inequality, and manufacture consent.
Support for democracy is waning globally, not because people have become less enlightened, but because democracy itself has failed to deliver on its promises. For decades, Western democracies paraded their commitment to human rights and civil liberties. But much of this display was performative, a theatre staged in competition with communism. Now that communism has receded as a global alternative, the masquerade of moral superiority seems to have ended too. Western democracies no longer feel the need to pretend.
It is true that the anxiety currently gripping liberal intellectuals in the West is not new to us. In Pakistan, democracy has rarely been more than a ceremonial exercise, a fragile system swinging between civilian pretence and military power. Perhaps that is why our lament is muted, we were never serenaded by the illusion to begin with.
We stand at the edge of a world losing faith in its own ideals. The myths that once inspired our political consciousness are fading. Democracy is not being overthrown by force, but eroded by apathy, manipulation, and fear. In its place emerges a new order, efficient, omnipresent, and ruthlessly unfree. History won’t mark this as a dramatic fall, but as a slow, silent betrayal, one that unfolded while we scrolled, liked, and shared. The age of comforting illusions is drawing to a close. What follows will depend not on those who rule, but on whether we choose to awaken, or remain complicit in our own forgetting.
