The pathological hatred Trump inspires on the left and the quasi-religious devotion he commands on the right reflect tensions within American democratic culture. File Photo
The formula is deceptively simple: populism + cynicism = autocratic rule. Consider it the formula of autocracy in the first quarter of the 21st century.
Does it capture the essentials?
Let us reflect on what distinguishes it from its predecessor in the 20th century.
The classical autocratic regimes of the 20th century were in the main movements of faith. Italian Fascism promised national regeneration through the total mobilisation of the people’s vital forces. German Nazism offered racial purification and a thousand-year empire. Soviet communism pledged the creation of a classless society and the emergence of a “new socialist man”. Each system demanded not only obedience but sincere conviction, requiring citizens to participate enthusiastically in grand historical projects that would transform human nature itself.
These ideological movements shared certain features that made them powerful but, in the end, self-defeating: extensive indoctrination mechanisms designed to maintain belief in things contradicted by experience; the constant mobilisation of revolutionary energy making the governance of day-to-day affairs impossible, and they promised particular outcomes — material well-being, national glory, human transformation — that could be empirically evaluated and found wanting.
Autocracy in the 21st century operates according to a different logic. Rather than promising transformation, it offers stability. Rather than demanding belief, it encourages scepticism about all political alternatives. Rather than mobilising populations behind grand historical projects, it promotes withdrawal from civic engagement altogether. The message, as Anne Applebaum observes in her 2024 Autocracy, Inc., is simple: “Our state may be corrupt, but everyone else is corrupt too. You may not like our leader, but the others are worse. You may not like our society, but at least we are strong and the democratic world is weak, degenerate, divided, dying.”
This cynicism is a remarkably effective strategy because it aligns well with human experience. Who wasn’t witnessed first-hand political parties breaking their promises or, indeed, the capture of democratic institutions by special interests? Political withdrawal becomes not apathy but wisdom, not surrender but a sophisticated understanding of how things actually work.
This shift from ideological to cynical autocracy coincides with a change in economic organisation. The totalitarianisms of old were state-controlled economies requiring isolation. The economies of 21st century autocracies are integrated in global capitalist markets. The autocrat doesn’t seek to transform the economy. He treats state resources as personal assets to be distributed among his loyalists.
We have a kleptocratic structure that creates incentives for regime stability that the authoritarian states of the 20th century never achieved. Oligarchs who benefit from corrupt privatisations become defenders of the system, not from conviction but from self-interest. They cannot defect without losing their wealth and they cannot organise opposition without risking imprisonment or death. The regime binds its supporters through complicity rather than ideology. It creates networks of mutual dependency that are more durable and lasting than the revolutionary fervour demanded of the people by the authoritarianisms of old.
Adding to the stability is the international dimension of the corruption. Russian oligarchs put their stolen assets in London real estate, Chinese officials hide their proceeds in offshore accounts, Venezuelan generals launder money through American banks. These practices embed autocratic wealth in global financial institutions in ways that make isolation impossible and sanctions useless. Western institutions profit from handling corrupt money. It creates stakeholders in democratic societies who have economic incentives to maintain relationships with autocratic regimes despite their human rights violations.
Perhaps the most significant innovation of 21st-century autocracies involves information control. Totalitarian regimes sought to impose a single official truth through state monopolies on communication. Contemporary autocracies flood the social environment with competing narratives designed to create confusion. The goal is not to make people believe in particular ideological narratives but to undermine confidence in the possibility of truth.
This approach exploits rather than fights technological innovation. Social media platforms become vehicles for spreading disinformation, amplifying social divisions and promoting extreme voices on all sides of controversial issues. Algorithms optimised for engagement reward content that provoke fear and anger rather than careful analysis and nuanced argument. The cynicism and confusion this creates achieves what censorship never could — the voluntary withdrawal of people from participation in civic affairs.
Consider Russian information warfare during the 2016 presidential election in the US. Instead of promoting pro-Russian propaganda, Russian operatives amplified existing social tensions around race and immigration. They created fake Black Lives Matter accounts attacking Hillary Clinton from the left while funding anti-immigration groups supporting Donald Trump from the right. The goal was to erode confidence in democratic institutions and processes.
Another noteworthy feature of 21st-century autocracies is the formation of international cooperations that transcend ideological boundaries. Fascist and communist regimes formed alliances based on shared worldviews. Contemporary autocrats collaborate despite fundamental disagreements about economics, culture and governance. Their cooperation is purely instrumental — mutual support for regime survival and opposition to the Western democratic world order.
This creates what Anna Applebaum calls “Autocracy Inc” — a loose but effective network of mutual assistance. North Korea provides Russia with weapons for its war against Ukraine. Iran supplies missiles and drones. China offers microchips and technological support. Venezuela provides oil and money-laundering services.
The effectiveness of this network lies in its flexibility. Instead of creating rigid obligations, it adapts to changing circumstances and opportunities. When Western sanctions target one autocratic regime, others step in to provide alternative markets. When Western democratic societies pressure one autocrat, others offer diplomatic support. The network succeeds through mutual benefit — “win-win”, in the words of China’s foreign policy approach — rather than through hierarchical command or shared vision.
The spread of autocratic dispositions in a country follows a common pattern. It begins with attacks on the free press, either through direct government pressure or through economic manipulation that forces media outlets to seek partisan financial support. It continues by challenging judicial independence — courts are politicised as competing factions seeking to use the legal system to advance partisan goals. Finally, the civil service is captured by partisan loyalists who prioritise political goals over professional competence. When agencies of the state (education, health, housing etc.) serve partisan rather than public interest, the distinction between democratic and autocratic regimes begins to blur.
The US increasingly exhibits characteristics echoing this pattern: the polarisation of the media, the politicisation of the courts and the capture of state agencies by partisan loyalists.
I don’t believe Trump is a direct threat to American democracy. I see him as a symptom of changes within its political, cultural and economic landscape, as well as of the rise of an axis of autocracies (China, Russia, Iran, North Korea, Venezuela, Belarus and others) who have made it their mission to shift the global balance of power by undermining the hegemony of Western democracies with their language of human rights.
The pathological hatred Trump inspires on the left and the quasi-religious devotion he commands on the right reflect tensions within American democratic culture. When political leaders are demonised or worshipped, when policy conflicts are experienced as existential conflicts and when compromises signify betrayals, democratic governance begins to erode.
And when citizens lose confidence in democratic alternatives, when truth becomes subordinate to political loyalty and when institutions serve partisan rather than public interests, a nation is likely to exchange democratic governance for autocracy. Is that where the American republic is heading? Time will tell.
Rafael Winkler is a professor in the philosophy department at the University of Johannesburg.