For the past six years, Americans have lived in a “flawed democracy,” one dragged down by high levels of polarization and events like the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection, according to an annual study of global democracy.
The latest edition of the Economist Intelligence Unit’s Democracy Index ranks the United States 26th of 167 countries, sandwiched between Chile and Estonia, when measuring electoral process, government functionality, political participation, political culture and civil liberties.
On a 10-point scale, the U.S. earned 7.85 points — slightly down from last year’ 7.92 and the nation’s lowest score since the EIU created the index in 2006. The United States also dropped one spot in the rankings over the past year.
The researchers pinned the United States’ low score on two factors, both of which are tied to polarization: functioning of government and political culture.
“Pluralism and competing alternatives are essential for a functioning democracy, but differences of opinion in the US have hardened into political sectarianism and institutional gridlock,” they wrote, explaining why the U.S. score for government functionality had hit a new low point.
The narrowly divided Congress “has further crippled the legislative process, particularly as Democrats contend with widening divisions between their moderate and hard-line members. Obstruction will worsen ahead of the November 2022 mid-term elections — which could flip the majorities in both houses of Congress — as neither party will want to appear to be ceding ground to the other,” they wrote.
Even though the United States reached a new low in that category, the nation scored even worse in “political culture” as election disputes and debates over the pandemic response have riven the population.
“Social cohesion has collapsed and consensus has evaporated on fundamental issues, such as election outcomes and public health practices,” according to the report, which notes that only 55 percent of Americans believe President Biden won a legitimate election despite the absence of widespread voter fraud.
But the insurrection and other attempts to change the outcome of the 2020 election were just that: attempts. The system’s resilience boosted the American score.
“The run-up to the change of administrations in late January 2021 was uncharacteristically tumultuous, marked by a riot at the US Capitol and attempts by the outgoing president, Donald Trump, and several Republican lawmakers to overturn the election results,” the report reads. “However, the inauguration of the new president, Joe Biden, a Democrat, proceeded smoothly, and the first year of his presidency has not faced significant disruptions.”
Two other factors helped keep the United States from ranking lower: participation and civil liberties.
American turned out to vote at a record rate in 2020, with 66 percent of the voting-eligible population casting a ballot. The EIU report also factored in the unprecedented participation in Georgia’s two Senate runoff elections in January 2021.
While the civil liberties score was high, EIU researchers caution that partisan gerrymandering and state-level efforts to change voting laws could result in a lower score in the future.
"That the United States continues to rank lower than many of our peers, and is considered a flawed democracy, should surprise no one that has observed our political system in recent years," said Mike Murphy, director of the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget's FixUS program. "Our polarizing division and government dysfunction have led to an increasing level of distrust in our democracy, and only a comprehensive approach that attacks the root causes of this challenge will help turn this around. We can do so by tapping into the frustration of the majority of Americans who are fed up with the status quo, and rally them behind solutions they can advance in their communities which among them include political and electoral reforms to change governing incentives, revitalizing civic education, and promoting norms and engagement models that support bridge building and deliberation."
The highest rated democracies, according to the EIU, are Norway, New Zealand, Finland, Sweden, Iceland and Denmark. In January, Transparency International ranked 180 countries in its Corruption Perceptions Index. Denmark, Finland and New Zealand tied with the best score, followed by Norway, Singapore and Sweden.
The United States ranked 27th in that index.
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.