Democracy Isn’t Dying—It Was Designed to Decay

In 2016, something broke in me—not emotionally, but philosophically.

It wasn’t just the candidates. It was what they represented. On one side, a career politician who embodied every manipulative, transactional instinct of the political class. On the other, a billionaire game show host playing populist messiah. Presented with this absurd binary, I assumed this had to be the breaking point. Surely the public would wake up. Surely this was the moment third parties would rise, the system would recalibrate, and we’d begin to claw our way back to something resembling representative government.

But nothing changed. Or rather, everything got worse—louder, meaner, dumber.

I started looking outward. I studied Canada’s multiparty system, curious whether more political options translated to better governance. What I found were the same patterns: voter apathy, shallow tribalism, media gatekeeping, and politicians more concerned with maintaining power than serving citizens. It was democracy in a different accent. And it wasn’t working there either.

That’s when the deeper truth began to sink in: maybe it’s not the implementation. Maybe it’s the idea itself. Maybe democracy—as we practice and preach it—isn’t a sustainable system at all.


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Voting as Ritual, Not Power

In representative democracies, especially under first-past-the-post systems, power inevitably consolidates into two dominant parties. These parties pretend to hate each other while operating within the same corporate framework, beholden to the same donors, protected by the same media.

Elections become rituals, not revolutions—designed to give the illusion of choice without threatening the structure of control. Voters are allowed to scream every four years, but never to rule.

And even that scream grows quieter. Voter turnout lags. Political engagement declines. Apathy isn’t a glitch in the system—it’s a byproduct of its design. People aren’t stupid; they’re tired of choosing between cancer and heart disease.

But even more corrosive than apathy is what comes next: entitlement.


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Democracy’s Fatal Incentive: Looting the Productive Class

At the heart of modern democratic failure lies a contradiction: the power to vote for things you didn’t earn.

It’s the oldest flaw in the book, and we were warned about it centuries ago. The moment a majority realizes it can vote itself benefits at the expense of the minority who produces them, democracy becomes a slow suicide.

This isn’t about opposing social safety nets or compassion. It’s about incentives. When citizens can extract resources from others through the ballot box—when politicians win by promising more free stuff rather than building sustainable systems—then democracy becomes a tool of legalized looting.

The political class thrives on this. Elections become auctions. Candidates aren’t chosen for vision or integrity but for their ability to bribe the masses with someone else’s money. “Free college.” “Forgiven debt.” “Expanded benefits.” No discussion of costs, trade-offs, or productivity—just an ever-expanding buffet with a shrinking kitchen staff.

The people footing the bill—small business owners, skilled laborers, independent thinkers—are told to shut up and pay. And when they protest, they’re labeled greedy or privileged, even as the state siphons their earnings to buy loyalty from an increasingly dependent base.

This isn’t democracy. It’s a slow-motion heist wrapped in patriotic slogans.


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Is There a Better Way?

Maybe democracy isn’t dying—it’s simply doing what it was always going to do once the guardrails fell off.

We treat democracy like a religion. But it was never divine. It was an experiment, one dependent on civic virtue, informed citizens, and a culture that valued duty over entitlement. That world is gone. What we have now is corporate media empires shaping narratives, politicians playing to emotions, and algorithms dividing us for profit.

So is there a better system?

That’s the dangerous part—there might not be. Every alternative brings its own horrors: technocracy, authoritarianism, theocratic rule. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe there is no perfect system—only temporary balances that must be constantly reevaluated, reimagined, and rebuilt.

What’s clear is that the one we have now isn’t working. It feeds on our labor, laughs at our votes, and sells us back our own voices at a markup. We’re not citizens anymore. We’re customers—barely.

And unless we stop pretending democracy is still sacred, unless we’re willing to confront the hard truths behind our civic myths, the future won’t be defined by freedom.

It’ll be defined by whoever can sell the most comfortable chains.

MicG