How Democracies Die

What does it really look like when a democracy dies? Not with the sound of tanks in the streets, but with quiet legal changes, angry speeches that erode trust, and the slow corrosion of norms that once kept power in check. In How Democracies Die, Harvard political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt offer a gripping, research-based answer to that question—one that feels alarmingly relevant to the early 21st century.

They begin with a sobering observation: modern democracies rarely collapse in sudden coups. Instead, they decay from within as elected leaders—sometimes popular, sometimes populist—undermine the institutions and unwritten rules that sustain freedom. Adolf Hitler, Hugo Chávez, and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan came to power through ballots, not bullets. The authors argue that the same dangerous dynamics—weak institutional gatekeepers, partisan polarization, and a steady erosion of mutual trust—now threaten the United States itself.

The Invisible Weakening of Democracies

Levitsky and Ziblatt’s analysis hinges on a critical distinction. During the Cold War, three out of four collapsed democracies died in coups d’état. But in today’s world, democracy erodes legally. Leaders exploit the rules to weaken opponents, pack courts, silence dissent, and tilt elections. People still vote, legislatures still meet, and courts still issue judgments, but the playing field becomes so uneven that one side can’t win fairly. In places like Venezuela, Turkey, and Poland, these changes happened incrementally—each step defensible on paper and widely dismissed as temporary or harmless until the system was already hollowed out.

The authors highlight the “paradox of democratic self-destruction.” The very institutions that safeguard liberty depend on self-restraint—what they call forbearance—and mutual acceptance of rival parties as legitimate, or mutual toleration. When politicians play constitutional “hardball”—stretching or exploiting every rule for partisan advantage—the system’s soft guardrails crumble. History, from interwar Europe to Latin America’s coups, shows that when this happens, democracy rarely survives intact.

America’s Uncomfortable Mirror

For much of the 20th century, the U.S. seemed exceptional—a democracy so stable that it weathered war, Depression, and Watergate. But Levitsky and Ziblatt challenge that complacency. They show how American norms, once strong, were forged in deeply undemocratic compromises, particularly over race. The stability that followed Reconstruction came only after both parties silently accepted the South’s suppression of Black voters. When the civil rights revolutions of the 1960s finally broke that exclusion, the old norms no longer fit a truly multiracial democracy. The polarization born in that era still drives American conflict today.

The election of Donald Trump, an outsider with open disdain for democratic customs, epitomizes what happens when political “gatekeepers” fail. In previous eras, party insiders blocked demagogues like Henry Ford or Huey Long. But after the reforms of the 1970s weakened the power of party elites in favor of primaries, that guardrail collapsed. Trump’s rise, abetted by partisan media and party leaders’ surrender, revealed how a democracy of laws can elect someone hostile to its spirit.

A Global Warning—and A Call to Civic Courage

Levitsky and Ziblatt draw on examples from Chile, Spain, Germany, and beyond to lay out a clear warning: democracy depends less on paper constitutions than on behavior. A legislature can impeach “legally” for partisan gain, just as Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law under constitutional authority. When the line between hardball and destruction blurs, citizens stop trusting elections, the press, and each other. That cynicism is what autocrats need most.

Yet the authors are not fatalists. They argue that citizens—not just politicians—can renew democracy through restraint, civic education, and coalition-building across ideological divides. Political rivals must once again become partners in defending the system itself. Their core question—“Can democracy survive without trust?”—is meant for you as much as for elected leaders. Understanding how democracies die, they suggest, is the first step toward keeping them alive.

“We know that extremist demagogues emerge from time to time in all societies. The test for democracy is not whether such figures emerge, but whether political leaders act to keep them from gaining power.”

In other words, the fate of democracy doesn’t rest with destiny—it rests with deliberate choices. How Democracies Die is a history lesson, a diagnosis, and a moral challenge, urging you to see politics not as combat but as collective self-preservation.

Levitsky and Ziblatt’s most powerful contribution is their litmus test for authoritarians. Drawing on decades of comparative research, they identify four behavioral warning signs that distinguish ordinary politicians from would-be dictators. These signals don’t require hindsight—you can spot them while a candidate is still running for office.

1. Rejection of Democratic Rules

The first red flag appears when leaders openly disparage the constitutional system. Do they undermine the legitimacy of elections, threaten to suspend the constitution, or refuse to accept defeat? Adolf Hitler and Hugo Chávez followed this path—entering office promising to “fix” corrupt systems only to dismantle them from within. In 2016, Donald Trump repeatedly claimed the election was “rigged,” flirted with refusing to accept results, and later questioned his own victory’s popular-vote count—all hallmarks of this first warning sign.

2. Denial of Opponents’ Legitimacy

Authoritarians rarely tolerate their rivals. They cast opposition parties as enemies of the nation—criminals, traitors, or foreign puppets. Hitler called communists enemies of Germany; Chávez labeled critics “oligarchs.” In the U.S., Trump’s chant of “Lock her up!” against Hillary Clinton marked a dangerous shift from disagreement to demonization. When opponents become “evil,” democratic compromise dies.

3. Encouragement of Violence

Violence turns rhetoric into fear. Whether it’s Italy’s Blackshirts or Trump urging supporters to “knock the crap out of” protesters, the effect is the same: normalize brutality as political expression. Levitsky and Ziblatt show that partisan violence—usually tolerated, excused, or winked at by those in power—is one of the clearest signs a democracy’s culture is decaying.

4. Readiness to Curtail Civil Liberties

Finally, aspiring autocrats silence critics. They attack the press, sue journalists, and threaten to restrict dissent under vague laws about “order” or “truth.” The book compares Trump’s “fake news” campaign to tactics used by Venezuela’s Chávez and Ecuador’s Correa. Such behavior doesn’t always trigger dictatorship immediately—but it erodes the public’s trust in independent institutions that guard truth itself.

By applying these four questions to contemporary leaders, you can judge threats early. The authors emphasize that no democracy is immune; vigilance depends on citizens recognizing these patterns before they harden into norms. (Political scientist Juan Linz, whose classic work inspired this checklist, once warned that the fate of democracy depends less on constitutions than on the moral choices of elites.)

Every democracy needs gatekeepers—institutions that filter out extremists before they reach power. Levitsky and Ziblatt trace how political parties have historically served this role in the United States and why their failure in 2016 was catastrophic. Before the 1970s, elites in smoke-filled rooms—flawed but cautious—ensured that dangerous demagogues were kept out. This gatekeeping was undone by well-intentioned reforms that democratized nominations but unintentionally opened the door to fringe candidates with celebrity or wealth.

From Smoke-Filled Rooms to Populist Primaries

The story begins in the early 20th century, when figures like Henry Ford and Huey Long sought power. Both commanded massive followings but were blocked by party elites who preferred safe insiders. After reforms in the 1970s (spurred by the turmoil of the 1968 Democratic convention), primaries replaced elite conventions as the path to nomination. This opened politics to grassroots energy—but also weakened internal vetting. Power shifted from professionals to donors, media networks, and populist appeal.

The Republican Collapse of 2016

By the time Donald Trump descended his escalator, the GOP’s gatekeepers had lost control. Wealth, celebrity, and new media allowed him to bypass traditional support networks. He failed every historical test of party acceptance—earning few endorsements—but dominated the primaries through spectacle and cable coverage. Party leaders then capitulated rather than risk short-term losses or intra-party revolt, mirroring the tragic miscalculations of Germany’s conservatives with Hitler or Venezuela’s establishment with Chávez.

The Global Lesson of Gatekeeping

The pattern is international. In Italy, Giovanni Giolitti legitimized Mussolini; in Chile, elites trusted Pinochet’s discipline; in Venezuela, Rafael Caldera freed a radical named Hugo Chávez. Each thought they could “manage” their outsider ally. Instead, they invited their own undoing. Successful democracies, the authors insist, isolate such figures—even forming temporary alliances across ideological divides, as French and Austrian centrists did to block far-right candidates. Refusing short-term victories in defense of long-term survival is what separates strong democracies from failed ones.

In your own political life—whether in civic organizations or parties—Levitsky and Ziblatt’s point resonates: protecting institutions sometimes requires losing an election. The true test of leadership is placing democracy above ambition.

Democracies survive not just through laws but through unwritten norms—habits of restraint and respect. Levitsky and Ziblatt identify two essential ones: mutual toleration (accepting rivals as legitimate) and forbearance (not exploiting every legal power to the hilt). When these social conventions erode, institutions become weapons. The authors show this process unfolding from the Civil War to today’s polarization.

Mutual Toleration: Seeing Rivals as Legitimate

Without tolerance, politics becomes existential. In 1850s America, Southern Democrats viewed abolitionists as heretics; abolitionists saw slaveholders as monsters. That moral absolutism erupted into civil war. Mutual toleration later stabilized only by excluding race from the agenda—at the cost of Black disenfranchisement. When civil rights returned in the 1960s, that fragile consensus shattered again. Today’s left-right gulf, now rooted in race, culture, and identity, rekindles that same danger.

Forbearance: Restraint in Using Power

Forbearance means exercising self-control even when legal authority allows more. George Washington exemplified it by declining a third term. So did Congress by rarely using impeachment and presidents who refrained from stacking courts. In contrast, Roosevelt’s failed “court-packing” scheme in 1937 tested that boundary but eventually reinforced it through bipartisan resistance. As forbearance weakens, ordinary legislative tools—filibusters, vetoes, appointments—turn into partisan sabotage.

Levitsky and Ziblatt’s message is unnerving: political civilization depends on good manners. The Constitution’s words, they write, are a “thin tissue of convention”—easy to tear once norms of restraint disappear.

If mutual toleration is the oxygen of democracy, then hyperpolarization is the match that burns it. The authors trace America’s descent from bipartisan civility to today’s warfare politics, beginning with Newt Gingrich in the late 1970s. His approach—portraying opponents as evil rather than mistaken—transformed discourse across Congress. His successors, from Tom DeLay to Mitch McConnell, perfected the art of obstruction and constitutional hardball.

The Culture of Permanent War

Under Gingrich, compromise became betrayal. House Republicans used government shutdowns, impeachments, and redistricting as weapons. Democrats responded in kind. The rise of talk radio, Fox News, and the Internet turned politics into tribal identity. Issues like abortion, race, religion, and civil rights hardened into moral absolutes—each side viewing victory as morally necessary. By the Obama years, this hostility culminated in the refusal to confirm his Supreme Court nominee, Merrick Garland—a norm-shattering act of defiance.

Racial and Religious Roots of Division

Polarization in America is not simply ideological but sociocultural. The Republican Party, once a big tent, became overwhelmingly white and Christian, while the Democrats became multiethnic and more secular. This realignment—sparked by civil rights reforms and sustained by demographic change—turned political differences into identity conflict. For many white conservatives, the nation itself felt unrecognizable, fueling the resentment that Trump exploited with “Make America Great Again.”

Levitsky and Ziblatt note that when citizens believe their rivals are existential threats, democracy’s unwritten rules evaporate. America’s partisan divide, they warn, mirrors the conflicts that doomed Chile in 1973 and Spain in the 1930s.

Donald Trump’s presidency provides the authors’ live laboratory. Within a year in office, he tested every rule of restraint: firing FBI Director James Comey, attacking judges, pardoning political allies, and labeling journalists “enemies of the people.” These are the same maneuvers authoritarian leaders use to capture referees, sideline opponents, and rewrite rules. Yet America’s institutions—courts, press, and certain congressional figures—held, at least temporarily.

Capturing the Referees

Trump tried to make law enforcement loyal to him personally, even demanding loyalty from Comey. When rebuffed, he fired him, echoing Fujimori’s 1992 “self-coup.” But thanks to public backlash and congressional pushback, an independent investigation under Robert Mueller survived. The courts also resisted—blocking his travel bans and punitive attacks on sanctuary cities. Forbearance, in this case, was upheld by institutions rather than character.

Tilting the Field

While Trump’s governing chaos kept him from fully consolidating power, subtler moves threatened the long game—especially efforts to restrict voting. The Presidential Commission on Election Integrity, spearheaded by Kris Kobach, sought to justify voter ID laws and roll purges under the guise of combating “fraud.” This mimicked century-old tactics of disenfranchisement in the Jim Crow South, now repackaged in modern language.

Trump didn’t break the guardrails outright—but he pushed them hard enough to reveal their weakness. Democracies, the authors insist, rarely fall in one blow; they sink gradually, each norm breach setting precedent for the next. The first year of Trumpism, then, was less collapse than corrosion.

After diagnosing the disease, Levitsky and Ziblatt conclude with a prescription. Saving democracy, they argue, requires rebuilding the soft guardrails—mutual toleration and forbearance—across divided societies. That means rejecting the instinct to “fight dirty,” even when faced with opponents who do. History shows that norm restoration comes not from vengeance but from coalition and compromise.

How to Repair the Norms

First, democracy’s defenders must prioritize the system itself over partisan victory. This echoes the 1985 Chilean “National Accord,” where former enemies united to end dictatorship by agreeing to play fair again. In America, that might mean progressives collaborating with conservatives to isolate extremists and defend the rule of law—even at electoral cost. Calling opponents traitors or dictators-in-waiting—even if half-true—only deepens the cycle of retaliation.

Beyond Trump: Structural Challenges

The authors also stress that polarization predates Trump—and will outlast him. Economic inequality, demographic anxiety, and asymmetric radicalization within the Republican Party have warped incentives. Reviving democratic health demands reforming primary systems, campaign finance, and voting access, along with reimagining the GOP as a genuinely multiracial conservative party, akin to Europe’s Christian Democrats after World War II. Without that transformation, polarization will persist, whoever leads.

A Call to Civic Renewal

“Saving democracy requires more than outrage—it requires patience, empathy, and the courage to lose elections for the greater good.”

For you, this means treating democratic decency as a personal ethic: listening generously, resisting misinformation, and defending institutions even when they frustrate you. Freedom, the authors remind us, depends not only on laws, but on habits of heart. Rebuilding those habits, one conversation and one norm at a time, is the truest act of patriotism.