Elderly Democracies: Hospice or New Life?

David Runciman, a professor of politics of Cambridge University, is a prolific scholar whose work resonates in the public sphere. He podcasts, appears regularly on television and other media, and has an impact on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. An academic with a scholarly legacy, Runciman has the rare ability to make complicated subjects accessible while remaining appreciative of their complexity. These and other skills are in full display in How Democracy Ends, Runciman’s 2018 publication. Clearly written and organized, the book makes the claim that democracy, in particular American democracy, “is going through a mid-life crisis.” It is a refreshing and provocative lens through which to understand the passivity, anger, and impulsive behavior found in much contemporary politics.

At pains to recognize the lessons of history while stressing that the path is no guide to the future, Runciman’s book draws on the scholarship of political scientists as well as a comparativist perspective. It is structured around three broad themes or ways of imagining democracy’s demise: coup, catastrophe, and technological takeover. Runciman’s overall perspective is somewhat gloomy but not deterministic. He believes that therapy for the middle aged, be it individual or system of government, can shake things up and lead to new and healthier behavior.

The section on coup looks at the many ways that conspiracies can end democratic rule. Trump’s presidency figures prominently, even though the book was written well before the 2020 election. Runciman notes that in healthy democracy, the analogy of a civil war without violence is apt. Consensus is illusory. Instead, one finds continuous and vigorous debate. That process can be subverted when a small group is able to seize control of the system through a coup. The 1967 coup in Greece is examined and contrasted with more recent upheavals due to debt. The issues, dynamics and threat to democracy simply did not play out the same way in Greece in 2015. The 1961 attempted coup in France failed, as did the 2016 attempt in Turkey, yet the 2017 coup in Zimbabwe was successful. Runciman argues that a successful and coordinated conspiracy is essential, yet not determinative, of a successful coup.

The section on catastrophe looks at three possibilities for democracy’s end: through war, through poisoning the environment, or through evil. For the latter, think of the Nazi’s or other forms of state sponsored killing. The challenge that Runciman stresses is the disconnect between the bread and butter issues of everyday politics and the more abstract and long-term ways that these threats might materialize. Through this and other chapters, Runciman weaves into the narrative the works of scholars and examples from history and around the world. In the last section, he focuses on the possibility of technology bringing about democracy’s end. The section also looks at the flow of information through various media and the elusiveness of “truth” in shaping decision-making.

Runciman concludes the book with a reflection on what might be better, what could help democracy. He is to be congratulated for his candor in admitting that he does not have ideal solutions. Admitting the appeal of promised solutions to many voters that may reduce individual agency and choice, Runciman posits the dignity inherent in a healthier democracy. He sees some hope in technology offering greater freedoms. To get to this point, though, Runciman warns that we have much learning to do.

If there was one way to improve the work, it would be to give greater consideration to economic factors as well as to the tremendous dislocations affecting more than a hundred of million of displaced peoples. These issues, I contend, will and do have great impact on local, national, and international politics.

How Democracy Ends is a thoughtful and provocative work. It raises more questions than providing answers, and that is fine. Runciman does not pretend to know the future. His work does make, though, for significantly more informed prognostication.

David Potash

Seeing Through Myths and Stories

Nesrine Malik is a London-based journalist who writes for The Guardian and presents on the BBC. Born in the Sudan, Malik spent most of her early years in the mid-east before moving to the UK. She writes about contemporary politics, especially in the U.S. and England, Islam, and identity politics. Malik is very smart and unapologetic in her critiques. She provides a vital perspective, informed by her personal history.

Right before the pandemic, Malik’s book, We Need New Stories: The Myths That Subvert Freedom, was published. It is a short, accessible and thoughtful presentation of six “myths: that frame US/UK political culture. Do not think of Joseph Campbell. Instead, conjure up what everyone knows to be true but turns out is not, actually, true. Malik efficiently assesses and critiques these myths, or commonly accepted “truths”, as most definitely creative fictions. They are lies or misunderstandings with a purpose and impact. She effectively argues in the book that the myths stand in the way of human freedom.

Malik’s focus, accordingly, is not on just on using data to demonstrate what is and is not accurate. She is after something slightly different, the effect of mindset when it comes to how important big picture political issues are framed. The six myths Malik calls out are the myth of the reliable narrator, political correctness, a free speech crisis, harmful identity politics, national exceptionalism and gender equality. The terrain is all contemporary. Each chapter, though, provides some reference as each of these have lengthy and complicated historical roots. Woven throughout the exposition are examples and observations drawn from Malik’s personal history as an Islamic woman growing up in the Sudan. She sees things that many of us who have lived in the culture might not recognize.

For each of the myths, Malik presents data, resources and examples to illustrate the fundamental unsoundness of the commonly accepted story. The reliable narrators in the past two decades, for example, reliably get many things wrong and rarely apologize. She examines here the “wise leaders” who preach a particular course of action and the preeminent example is the invasion of Iraq. Untold numbers died, billions were expended, and accountability never really happened. In fact, the same leaders and leadership structures remain as influential today. Our narrators, in other words, need to be questioned. Malik’s argument is compelling. When it comes to political correctness and a crisis of free speech, Malik emphasizes that what is different today is that those with power and influence are peddling these issues for gain. Are we truly in a crisis where many are afraid to speak honestly because of the heavy weight of political correctness? Malik underscores the recurring strategy of creating a sense of victimhood to motivate identity and political action. Exactly who is being harmed and how when people celebrate their identities? Or interrogate stories of national exceptionalism?

The book is interesting, well-paced and solid. Malik delivers her claims effectively. Missing are discussions of why these myths are so prevalent and exist across countries, cultures and histories. She does not give much energy into exploring why these myths are so successful. In the marketplace of ideas and arguments, why does an imagined fear of political correctness have legs while other fears and issues do not? Malik hints at reasons, but does not travel that path. It is unfortunate, for many of her exploded myths tightly align with decades of provocative scholarship on nationalism. Stories of injustice and victim hood are effective tools at mobilizing political support and agency in some circumstances. It is key to remember, too, that victims are rarely asked to think of anything or anything other than themselves. Perhaps in another book.

I am looking forward to reading more from Nesrine Malik. We need her insights and perspective.

David Potash