Democratic backsliding in the United States
Based on Wikipedia: Democratic backsliding in the United States
In November 1898, the streets of Wilmington, North Carolina, became a theater for the first modern coup d'état on American soil. Armed paramilitary groups, organized by white supremacist Democrats, marched through the city not to protest a policy or vote in an election, but to erase a government that already existed. They burned the offices of The Daily Record, the only African-American newspaper in the state, and terrorized Black neighborhoods with gunfire and arson. At gunpoint, they forced the resignation of the elected biracial city council—the nation's first-ever—replacing it with their own appointees. In the weeks that followed, this violent overthrow was codified into law through a new state constitution, instituting poll taxes and literacy tests that would disenfranchise nearly all African Americans for seventy years. This was not an anomaly; it was the opening act of the Jim Crow era, a deliberate, calculated process of democratic backsliding that stripped millions of their citizenship rights and replaced them with a system of white-supremacist authoritarian rule.
Today, more than a century later, we find ourselves tracing a terrifyingly similar arc. The mechanisms have changed—no longer burning newspapers in the streets, but rather manipulating data, weaponizing bureaucracy, and exploiting legal ambiguities—but the destination remains hauntingly familiar. Democratic backsliding in the United States is no longer a hypothetical risk discussed in academic journals; it is a documented reality that has led major global indices to downgrade the nation's status from a "liberal democracy" to an "electoral democracy," and in some cases, to describe the country as standing "at the cusp of autocracy."
The Architecture of Exclusion
To understand how a nation built on the promise of liberty can slide toward authoritarianism, we must first define what is happening. Backsliding is not merely a shift in policy or the election of unpopular leaders; it is a structural process of regime change towards autocracy. It makes the exercise of political power more arbitrary and repressive. It restricts the space for public contestation. It narrows the circle of who gets to participate in selecting the government, effectively turning democracy into a hollow shell where only certain voices are permitted to speak.
The history of this phenomenon in the United States is punctuated by two distinct, yet connected, eras: the Jim Crow period and the 21st century under Donald Trump. Both periods share a common DNA: the systematic erosion of rights for marginalized groups, often justified by appeals to "order," "tradition," or "security," but ultimately serving to concentrate power in the hands of a privileged few.
The First Reconstruction era began with the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 and accelerated between 1865 and 1870 with the passage of three monumental amendments to the Constitution. The Thirteenth abolished slavery; the Fourteenth guaranteed citizenship and equal protection under the law; the Fifteenth made it illegal to deny voting rights based on "race, color, or previous condition of servitude." These were not abstract legal texts; they were lifelines thrown to a people who had just been liberated from chattel bondage. The impact was immediate and profound. In 1866, only 0.5% of African American men could vote. By 1872, that number had surged to 70%.
For a brief moment, the United States looked like a true multiracial democracy. But this progress triggered a violent backlash. White conservative movements within the Republican Party began to argue that the government had made "too many changes too fast." The federal will to protect Black citizens waned as political expediency took hold. This culminated in the Compromise of 1877, a backroom deal where Southern Democrats agreed to let Republicans win the disputed 1876 presidential election in exchange for the removal of federal troops from the South. Historian James M. McPherson described this moment as "the abandonment of the black man to his fate."
The result was a decade of unchecked violence and political subterfuge that dismantled Reconstruction. The Wilmington coup of 1898 is merely the most visible flashpoint, but it was part of a broader campaign. By the early 20th century, Southern governments had institutionalized this exclusion through Jim Crow laws. Poll taxes, literacy tests, and grandfather clauses were designed not just to discourage voting, but to make it legally impossible for Black citizens and many poor whites to participate in the democratic process.
By 1913, this disenfranchisement had metastasized to the federal level itself. Under President Woodrow Wilson, the federal government introduced segregation into its own agencies, reversing decades of integration and signaling that the nation's highest institutions were no longer committed to equality. This era represents a classic case of democratic breakdown: the rules of the game were rewritten by the winners to ensure they would never lose again.
The Modern Erosion
The 21st century has witnessed a resurgence of these patterns, though the actors and tactics have evolved. While the Jim Crow era was characterized by explicit racial segregation and paramilitary terror, modern backsliding often operates through the machinery of the state: courts, legislatures, and administrative agencies. Yet, the drivers remain strikingly similar: a desire to consolidate power, a suspicion of minorities, and a rejection of the norms that constrain executive authority.
Political scientists have identified the presidency of Donald Trump as an accelerant for this trend. A paper published in The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science offered a stark assessment of his impact: "Trump undermined faith in elections, encouraged political violence, vilified the mainstream media, [and] positioned himself as a law-and-order strongman challenging immigrants and suppressing protests."
These were not just rhetorical flourishes; they were strategic moves that reshaped the American political landscape. The undermining of faith in elections created a fertile ground for conspiracy theories, culminating in the events of January 6, 2021. The attack on the U.S. Capitol was not merely a riot; it was an attempted self-coup, an effort to overturn the results of a free and fair election through violence and intimidation.
The aftermath of that day revealed just how fragile American democratic institutions had become. In the years following January 6, the Polity data series, a leading authority on regime types, reclassified the United States as an "anocracy"—a hybrid regime that is neither fully democratic nor fully autocratic. By October 2025, after further downgrades in 2024 and 2025, the classification had shifted again. The report stated plainly that the U.S. was "no longer [...] a democracy" and was lying "at the cusp of autocracy."
This is not the alarmist rhetoric of fringe critics; it is the conclusion drawn from data by experts who have studied democratic transitions for decades. Bright Line Watch, a network of political scientists dedicated to tracking threats to American democracy, issued similar statements in September 2025. They described expert ratings of the country as "closer to those of a mixed or illiberal democracy than a full democracy."
The V-Dem Institute's democracy report for 2026 provided perhaps the most damning diagnosis yet. It classified the United States as an "electoral democracy" for the first time in over fifty years, stripping it of its status as a "liberal democracy." This distinction is crucial. A liberal democracy does not just hold elections; it protects individual rights, ensures the rule of law, and maintains checks and balances that prevent any single branch of government from becoming tyrannical. The loss of this status suggests that while Americans may still vote, the protections that make those votes meaningful are eroding.
The Mechanics of Power
How does a democracy slide into autocracy without a tank in the street? It happens through the quiet accumulation of power and the dismantling of safeguards. In the modern era, several key drivers have facilitated this process.
First is the role of the judiciary, particularly the Supreme Court. Decisions regarding money in politics and gerrymandering have fundamentally altered the balance of power. By allowing unlimited corporate spending in elections, the courts have enabled the concentration of political influence among the ultra-wealthy, creating a form of plutocracy where policy outcomes are dictated by donors rather than constituents. Simultaneously, court rulings that allow state legislatures to draw congressional districts with impunity have rendered elections less competitive and less representative of the popular will.
Second is the rise of political violence as a tool of intimidation. The rhetoric surrounding the January 6 attack was not an aberration; it was part of a broader trend of normalizing violence against political opponents, the media, and minority groups. The promotion of medical pseudoscience during the pandemic further eroded trust in public institutions, creating a society where facts are subjective and authority is questioned only when it contradicts pre-existing biases.
Third is the emergence of identity politics that explicitly targets specific groups. Anti-LGBTQ rhetoric and white identity politics have been used to mobilize voters by stoking fear and resentment. This strategy mirrors the tactics of other backsliding regimes around the world, where leaders seek to consolidate power by defining a "true" national identity that excludes minorities and dissenters.
The expansion of executive power under Trump's second term in 2025 has further accelerated these trends. Early criticisms from political scientists focused on the reduction of agency workforces and regulations by the Department of Government Efficiency, a move seen as an attempt to hollow out the administrative state and concentrate decision-making authority in the White House.
Freedom House described the pardon of January 6 defendants as an attempt to "excuse a violent insurrection." When leaders pardon those who attacked the government to overturn an election, they send a clear message: there are no consequences for undermining democracy if you share the right political affiliation. This is the definition of arbitrary power—where the law applies to some but not others based on loyalty rather than merit or justice.
The Global and Human Cost
The implications of this backsliding extend far beyond American borders. For decades, the United States has served as a model for democratic governance worldwide. When that model begins to crack, it sends shockwaves through the international community. Some Canadian security experts have warned that Canada may need to reevaluate its historically close relationship with the U.S. in response to these developments. The instability caused by American backsliding could compromise Canada's greatest source of intelligence and regional security.
Prime Minister Mark Carney has openly stated that U.S.–Canadian relations have entered a new chapter, one where the United States can no longer be seen as a trustworthy partner. This is a profound shift for a nation built on the idea of shared democratic values. If the world's most powerful democracy cannot trust itself to hold free and fair elections or respect the rule of law, what hope remains for other nations struggling to build their own democratic institutions?
But beyond geopolitics, there is a human cost that must be centered in any discussion of backsliding. Democracy is not an abstract concept; it is the daily reality of millions of people who rely on its protections to live with dignity and safety. When democracy slides, it is the marginalized who suffer first and worst.
In the Jim Crow era, the erosion of rights meant that Black Americans were denied the vote, segregated in every aspect of life, and subjected to lynching and terror. In the 21st century, the consequences are more complex but no less devastating. The suppression of voting rights means that communities of color have less say in who represents them, leading to policies that neglect their needs. The rise of anti-LGBTQ rhetoric has emboldened violence against queer individuals, creating an environment where they must fear for their physical safety. The concentration of power among the wealthy means that working-class families face a political system that is increasingly unresponsive to their struggles with healthcare, housing, and wages.
The human cost also includes the psychological toll on citizens who no longer believe in the possibility of change. When faith in elections is undermined, when the media is vilified as "the enemy," and when political opponents are dehumanized, society becomes fragmented. Trust evaporates. Communities turn inward. The shared reality that makes democracy possible begins to fracture.
A Crossroads for History
The question now facing the United States is whether this trajectory can be reversed. In 2020, political scientist Kurt Weyland presented a qualitative model suggesting that the U.S. was immune to democratic reversal. His study concluded that American institutions were too robust to fail. However, by 2021, scholars Matias López and Juan Pablo Luna criticized his methodology, arguing that "the probability of observing democratic backsliding in the United States remains an open and important question."
History suggests they are right. No democracy is immune. The fall of Weimar Germany, the slide of Hungary under Viktor Orbán, and the authoritarian turn in Turkey all began with the erosion of norms and the gradual dismantling of checks and balances. These transitions were not sudden coups; they were slow, creeping processes that caught many off guard until it was too late to stop them.
The events of 2025 and 2026 serve as a stark warning. The classification of the U.S. as an "anocracy" by Polity, the downgrade to "electoral democracy" by V-Dem, and the warnings from Canadian leaders are not mere academic exercises. They are urgent alerts that the nation has crossed a threshold.
The path forward requires more than just hoping for better times. It demands a clear-eyed recognition of the threats we face. We must understand that the attack on January 6 was not an isolated incident but a symptom of a deeper malaise. We must recognize that the suppression of voting rights is not just a partisan tactic but a fundamental assault on the principle of equality. We must see that the concentration of power in the hands of the wealthy and the expansion of executive authority are not signs of efficiency but of authoritarianism.
The story of democratic backsliding in the United States is a story of choices. In 1877, the choice was made to abandon Reconstruction for political gain. In 1898, the choice was made to use violence to overthrow a democracy. In 2025, the choice was made to pardon insurrectionists and expand executive power at the expense of institutional safeguards.
Each of these choices brought the nation closer to the abyss. The question now is whether we can make different choices. Can we rebuild the institutions that have been weakened? Can we restore faith in the electoral process? Can we recognize the humanity of those who have been excluded and marginalized?
The answer lies not in the past, but in the present. The history of backsliding shows us that democracy is fragile, that it requires constant vigilance and active participation to survive. It is not a machine that runs on its own; it is a garden that must be tended. If we neglect it, if we allow the weeds of authoritarianism to take root, the garden will die.
But if we act—if we recognize the stakes, if we refuse to accept the erosion of our rights, and if we commit to the hard work of rebuilding trust and justice—the story can still change. The future is not written. It is up to us to decide whether the United States remains a beacon of democracy or becomes another cautionary tale of how a nation lost its way.
The events of 2025 have shown us that we are at a crossroads. One path leads further into the shadows of autocracy, where power is arbitrary and rights are conditional. The other path leads back toward the light of true democracy, where every voice counts and freedom is protected for all. The choice is ours. And it must be made now.