Kleinfeld is a senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and a Freedom House trustee. Slipowitz is the research manager for “Freedom in the World” at Freedom House.
As President Biden said in his State of the Union address, the ongoing crisis in Ukraine has starkly illustrated “the battle between democracy and autocracy,” and new research from Freedom House underscores just how dire this crisis of global democracy has become.
After 16 years of decline, nearly 40 percent of the world’s population now lives in countries that are not free, the greatest proportion since 1997. As Russian war-making has demonstrated, emboldened authoritarians have been instrumental to this erosion. Meanwhile, democratic countries have struggled to hold leaders like Vladimir Putin accountable. This is because democratic institutions are being attacked by a more insidious challenger, diluting their impact on the international stage. Since 2000, the majority of democracies have been dying at the hands of their own elected leaders, with the support of polarized, partisan and indifferent publics.
Some democratic citizens actively support undemocratic systems. In Latin America, about 13 percent of respondents told the Latinobarometer survey that they preferred authoritarianism. In the United States, a 2020 Democracy Fund survey found 13 percent of Americans stating that it would be positive if the military stopped elections, closed Congress and temporarily took charge, while 24 percent supported a “strong leader who doesn’t have to bother with Congress and elections.”
Often, though, the problem is not overt anti-democracy, but indifference. In Latin America, 16 percent of citizens say they just don’t care what form their government takes. The anti-polarization organization More in Common found that between 24 percent and 51 percent of French, German, British and Polish citizens are ambivalent about democracy. Many are not attached to democratic rituals, but are instead transactional, skeptical about what democracy does for them, and suspicious of political elites and the media. Meanwhile, young voters globally have become increasingly disenchanted with each generation.
Political polarization makes this ambivalence particularly dangerous to democracy. Yale professor Milan Svolik’s research reveals that in deeply divided societies such as Hungary, Venezuela and Turkey, voters preferred to tolerate undemocratic behavior by their party rather than back opposition politicians they hate. The result was the loss of democracy in each country. When Svolik and his colleague Matthew Graham looked at the U.S., they found that only 13 percent of voters claimed they would punish undemocratic behavior by voting for an opposing politician — and real-world examples suggest the actual percentages are far less.
Meanwhile, the pandemic has given anti-democratic leaders an excuse to decrease transparency and civil liberties — sometimes with the support of other parts of the political spectrum. In the first few months of the pandemic, 80 countries saw substantial declines in the state of their democracy. While some were temporary, new variants and the continuing pandemic have allowed governments to mount an assault on democracy under the guise of public health policy, deepening long-term democratic decline.
These dynamics are giving elected leaders the chance to destroy their democracies with voter support. In El Salvador, President Nayib Bukele has systematically dismantled democratic safeguards, arbitrarily arrested his critics and packed the courts with his supporters. The supportive Supreme Court overturned the ban on presidential reelection, paving the way for Bukele to run again in 2024. Yet, Bukele’s approval ratings have remained sky-high at 85 percent as of January. Bukele’s case is not exceptional — Hungary, India, and Tunisia have all experienced popular leaders eroding democratic norms. Arguably, similar dynamics are taking place in the United States.
The idea of populists ruling by majoritarian fiat is popular: in countries where elected left- or right-wing populists govern by ignoring rights, laws and institutions that check power, young people express greater support for what they see as democracy. But majoritarian rule is not democracy — it is what Aristotle recognized as the degradation of popular rule. Democracy’s defining characteristic is the capacity to self-correct, which requires elections but also a robust network of independent courts, a free press and civil society organizations. And it requires voters who are willing to hold elected leaders accountable.
Those voters do exist. Where authoritarianism is real, as in Asia, or of recent memory, as in the post-Soviet democracies of Eastern and Central Europe, young people support democracy in greater numbers than their parents and grandparents. In Africa, 70 percent of adults agree that “democracy is preferable to any other form of government,” and even greater percentages reject one-party, one-man and military rule. Democracy continues to be a universal aspiration, a quality which no other form of government can genuinely claim.
Yet if the leaders of the most consolidated democracies cannot mount a stronger defense against anti-democratic sentiment from within, they will struggle to hold a united front against authoritarianism from without. The self-correcting nature of democracy remains strongly correlated with economic growth through improved human capital, life expectancy, and, crucially today, peace. Voters willing to trade these benefits for partisanship and populism are risking more than they know.



















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.