Sunday, November 9, 2025
Election season is a fitting time to take stock — not only of what our leaders have and have not done, but also of what we have tolerated from them, and from ourselves.
Truth be told, there’s an unease in the air — not just about elections or economics, but about something deeper: the slow erosion of trust, the hardening of contempt, the growing sense that truth itself has become negotiable. These aren’t the hallmarks of a confident democracy. They’re the early shadows of something dangerous.
When people hear the word “totalitarian,” they imagine parades and police states, not school boards or town councils. But the most enduring form of authoritarianism doesn’t arrive with tanks; it creeps in through the corrosion of truth-telling, respect and shared responsibility.
Totalitarianism, in its embryonic stage, works to silence disagreement, to treat opponents as enemies, to bend institutions toward personal or partisan ends. It begins when loyalty to a leader becomes more prized than integrity, and when public life becomes less about dialogue than domination.
That, increasingly, is the shadow stretching across our civic landscape. We are losing the antibodies that protect us from tyranny.
At the federal level, we’ve seen the guardrails of restraint weaken. Laws once thought firm are now bent to accommodate personal power. Agencies created to serve the public are recast as instruments of political loyalty. Facts — about elections, pandemics or climate — are recast as matters of opinion. At the state level, officials redraw district maps to predetermine election outcomes, Boards of Education decide which books and histories may be taught. The civic contract — our shared assumption that good-faith debate is possible — is fraying.
Even in our towns and neighborhoods, the tone has changed. School board meetings devolve into shouting matches. Civic volunteers are harassed. Journalists and teachers second-guess whether candor is worth the backlash. Citizens withdraw, exhausted, convinced that their voices no longer matter.
History teaches that authoritarianism rarely arrives announced. It spreads through small acts of indifference. A lie goes unchallenged because correcting it seems tedious. A cruel remark passes as “just politics.” A corruption scandal fades because “they all do it.” Cynicism replaces vigilance. And soon the line between disappointment and danger blurs.
The response to this drift isn’t louder slogans or angrier partisanship. It’s reclaiming the daily practices of citizenship. Voting is one, but only one. Equally vital are reading beyond sources that simply echo what we already believe, defending the legitimacy of local journalism and supporting honest education even when it challenges our comfort. It means expecting integrity from leaders — not because they share our ideology, but because they serve the public.
That same principle applies to law enforcement and border security. A nation must protect its citizens, but it must also protect its character. The rule of law loses its legitimacy when it is enforced with cruelty or indifference to human dignity.
We can also reclaim the moral vocabulary that once anchored our public life — words like decency, fairness, humility and truth. These aren’t partisan terms; they are the language of citizenship. They’re the quiet, everyday antidotes to authoritarian temptation.
Some people hear warnings about democracy’s decline and shrug. They prefer to focus on tangible things: business, markets, growth. Yet authoritarianism is no friend to those, either. Where power consolidates, corruption follows. Unpredictable governance and politicized law breed instability. Investors and entrepreneurs, like citizens, rely on the predictability of fair rules. When those rules are warped by loyalty or fear, commerce and civic peace both suffer.
The defense of democratic institutions isn’t a liberal or conservative cause; it’s a stability cause. It is in everyone’s self-interest to preserve the conditions in which disagreement remains peaceful, contracts remain reliable and the law applies equally.
Ordinary citizenship takes courage — the courage to insist on truth when it’s inconvenient, to practice civility when it’s unfashionable, to defend fairness even when it costs us something. The survival of democracy has always depended on the willingness of ordinary people to do the unglamorous work of maintaining it.
The future of this country won’t be decided by the loudest voices; it will be decided by those who keep faith with the idea of shared citizenship. The health of our democracy doesn’t depend on who holds office next year; it depends on whether we still believe, collectively, that truth and decency are worth defending.
Michael Blitz is professor emeritus of interdisciplinary studies at the City University of New York’s John Jay College of Criminal Justice.
