Francis Dearnley
To say we are living through “historic” times is a cliché, but 2024 measurably will be. More citizens in human history will go to the polls than ever next year: over two billion across 50 countries.
Will it mark the high-water mark of democracy? The prevalence of increasingly authoritarian, imperialist states like Russia – democracies in name only – and the domestic volatility in countries like the United States, set to elect its president in November, conjures, for many, a sense of Gibbon-esque decline, of Western democratic hegemony eroded by its decadence and faint-heartedness. I believe this anxiety is overblown, and not merely when I sip a reassuring glass of mulled wine on Christmas Eve.
The idea of democracy is more resilient than its frequent crises and fragilities suggests: even in countries where despotism currently reigns, dictators are compelled to appeal to ideas of freedom which authoritarianism can never truly extinguish. One can murder a man, but ideas are bulletproof. It bears repeating that if, as many claim, countries like Russia were truly culturally predisposed towards autocracy, there would be no need for Putin to carry out his wave of terror against democratic opposition. Nor would he feel the need to sanction foreign journalists, as he did to me and several Telegraph colleagues this year for reporting on the war in Ukraine.
Freedom is cherished even in countries without longstanding democratic traditions. The clearest example in the European context is Ukraine, where soldiers are dying daily – even today and over the festive period – for freedoms taken for granted by many of its neighbours. Indeed, democracy is considered so valuable to the Ukrainians, they dare not risk it in wartime. Ukraine was scheduled to have a presidential election in March, but postponed it for fear of Russian interference in the form of shells and subterfuge; very real threats. I speak to many Ukrainians for the Telegraph’s daily podcast on the war, and they are surprised that some in the wider West perceive this decision by President Zelensky as evidence of a shift towards oligarchy. “We do not need to prove our democracy to the world,” one told me, “We are shedding our blood for it.” Another country with a fledgling democracy – when measured by the standards of history – that covets its freedom is Taiwan, scheduled to hold a presidential election in mid-January. The result could set the tone for 2024.
Another win for their Democratic Progressive Party could see the brewing tensions between Taipei and Beijing erupt into far more overt hostility, perhaps even violence, as occurred between Kyiv and Moscow when it became clear to the latter that time was running out to keep Ukraine within its orbit. But it would also mark a considerable success in the battle of ideas between democracy and autocracy worldwide – for some time, Beijing sought to use political threats and manipulation to impose its will on Taiwan. A victory for the status quo here would expose the degree of Xi Jinping’s failure. The greatest democratic miracle in 2024, when measured in numbers, will be India: a nation of 1.4 billion people, speaking over 100 languages, will go to the polls in April-May, with Narendra Modi seemingly set to win a third consecutive victory. While there are anxieties about his attitude to political dissent – various opponents have been jailed – and New Delhi’s willingness to continue cooperating with hostile nations like Russia, the post-imperial democratic test many believed was doomed to fail has long outlasted its critics.
Which brings us neatly to the United States – the greatest democratic experiment in modern history. Here the rhetoric of crisis and implosion is omnipresent, many speculating that a re-elected Donald Trump would mark the demise of American democracy and power, the end of the country’s relative stability since the Civil War of the 1860s. Yet paradoxically, another vote for Trump, far from signalling the death of American democracy, could be said to mark its ultimate triumph – underlining what was proven but ignored by commentators in 2016: that millions of Americans believe that the democratic institutions of their country are strong enough to contain the instincts of whoever inhabits the Oval Office. Many Americans thirst for change, but there is no evidence that a majority want it to come at the expense of democracy. It bears repeating that, measured sociologically, the United States is no failing state: the precursor to tyranny over freedom.
Its economy is robust, and its demographic make-up – neither too young, nor too old – favours stability. Rather the prospect of a Trump victory would arguably be less significant for American democracy than it would be for other democratic nations. If he were to follow through on his threats and pull out of Nato, or even withdraw substantial military support for Ukraine, that would have huge geopolitical ramifications.
Thankfully in Britain we have been spared military aid becoming a partisan issue: Keir Starmer has pledged to continue supporting Kyiv in the same manner as the Conservatives if he wins the UK general election, likely also taking place next year. In Washington, by contrast, this issue has become mired in domestic politics, just as it has in Poland, Slovakia, and elsewhere. When defence becomes a matter of debate over detail, everyone loses. One can say the same, indeed, for democracy itself: its survival is predicated on the sincerity of our belief in its not being up for debate. On those grounds alone there is room for optimism: in most Western countries now, democracy is irrefutable, unlike, say, in the 1930s. Yet freedoms can eke away, and beliefs can be eroded if people begin to perceive that their vote does not matter, because nothing ever truly changes – on immigration, for example. It is for that reason that politicians – in the West and the wider world – have a responsibility to act in this age of instability. If they do not, claiming their hands are tied by the mechanisms of government, then people will begin to question the institutions themselves. And therein lies unrest. But do not let that thought dampen your mood on Christmas Day. For now, the problem of whether to have that second mince pie is more than enough.
