On January 20^th, 2021, Joe Biden’s inauguration will mark the end of the Trump era. Over the last four years, America saw its role on the international stage transformed, its domestic politics inflamed even more than before, and its institutions battered. Biden hopes to change that, to replace the rancor of the Trump era with a new patriotism and belief in the country’s future. Indeed, he has repeatedly stressed unity, reason, and science, seeking to reconcile America’s staunchly polarized electorate and invigorate its fragilized democracy. But speeches, no matter how rememberable, are not enough. If America wants to keep its democracy healthy, it needs crucial reform. The first step it must take is to revitalize its constitutional system of checks and balances and strengthen the rule of law.

An earnest belief in constitutionalism has been a hallmark of US political discourse since the beginning of the country’s history. When the thirteen American colonies officially seceded from Britain in 1776, the shadow of despotism loomed great over the world. Though some countries, including Britain, espoused relatively liberal governments, most nations of the 18^th century were firmly in the grip of absolutist kings who claimed a divine mandate to rule unopposed. To avoid such a tyrannical outcome, the authors of America’s constitution wanted to segregate power as much as possible between the three branches of government, adhering to the doctrine of separating political authority dreamed up by the Englishman John Locke in the late 1600s and refined into the familiar scheme of distinct legislative, executive, and judicial powers by the French nobleman Charles Baron de Montesquieu in the 18^th century.

The separation of powers, as argued by the framers, was the solution to limiting the consolidation of power in the State and hence the creation of a despotic ruler (such as in monarchies) or body of rulers (like in oligarchies). Congress can make laws but it cannot enforce them. The president can execute laws but is unable to legislate. And the application and interpretation of the contents of the law are under the authority of an independent judiciary. The resulting system draws distinct lines between the purview of governmental bodies and mitigates the consolidation of power.

Not only does the constitution outline the separation of powers, it also promotes the so-called doctrine of “checks and balances.” The three key powers of the State are, in fact, separate, but that does not mean they cannot interfere in each other’s activities. Indeed, because some humans aspire toward concentrating power in their own hands, others must hold the constitutional means to resist encroachments on their jurisdiction. While no branch of government should be dependent on another, it can nevertheless be held accountable by another branch; as James Madison stated in Federalist 51, “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Congress can check the president’s power through impeachment, while the executive can quash a law passed by congress through a veto (albeit that power can be overridden by a two-thirds majority in the Senate and House). The Supreme Court, meanwhile, can declare any law or presidential action unconstitutional—the so-called prerogative of “judicial review,” established by Chief Justice John Marshall in Marbury v Madison (1803).

The framers of the constitution did much to prevent an excessive centralization of power and to thereby secure a legitimate, democratic government. However, they also left the preservation of certain checks and balances to custom and individual character, instead of laying them out explicitly in the law. Moreover, tradition and precedent are often the only means available to enforce said law. The result is a system that functioned for more than two centuries thanks to the professionalism of its bureaucrats and the honesty of its leaders—but struggled when faced with a president displaying corrupt and authoritarian tendencies.

In the last four years, the Trump administration repeatedly undercut, violated, and circumvented the law and established custom. The constitution’s Appointments Clause states the president must seek confirmation from the Senate for their cabinet’s officials. Donald Trump did not; at least 15 of his cabinet officials currently hold their positions illegally. The Foreign Emoluments Clause of the constitution prevents the president from receiving emoluments—financial benefits—from foreign states. Mr. Trump undermined this law when he refused to sell his shares in the Trump Organization or place them in a blind trust: as such, foreign powers, including Saudi Arabia, spend money at his hotels, openly flouting the rule of law and exposing America’s executive branch to overseas influence.

He also seems to have violated the 1939 Hatch Act, which aims to prevent federal employees from participating in political activities when present in their official capacity, during the RNC Convention in August; to name but a few infringements of the rules, Melania Trump offered her remarks at the convention from the White House Rose Garden, and the RNC during the convention broadcasted a tape of Mr. Trump assisting in a naturalization ceremony as well as a presidential pardon. Not to mention the impeachment proceedings brought against Trump last year over his attempt to withdraw American aid to Ukraine already approved by Congress in exchange for “dirt” on Hunter Biden, his rival’s son, or his administration’s continuous efforts to reverse and delegitimize the outcome of November’s election despite the Electoral College’s confirmation of Joe Biden’s victory. The law acts as a check on the power of the sovereign, yet Mr. Trump appears above its reach.

The most pernicious of Mr. Trump’s violations of the law and custom has been the promotion of the so-called “unitary executive theory.” A favorite of former Vice President Dick Cheney and Mr. Trump’s Attorney General, William Barr, the theory asserts the president’s absolute authority over his cabinet; he is accountable to no one, not even Congress, but the people every four years. The idea clearly goes against the philosophy of checks and balances the founders espoused: the president acts effectively as an elected monarch. Mr. Trump moved America considerably toward the unitary executive theory by firing inspectors generals, politicizing the Department of Justice, and ignoring congressional subpoenas.

Inspectors generals serve as bipartisan guardians of the rule of law, exercising vital oversight over the executive branch’s activities by informing Congress of instances of inefficacy, fraud, and abuse. By firing them, Mr. Trump made clear his administration was accountable to no one but himself. His government ignored congressional subpoenas during his impeachment last year, further weakening Congress’s constitutional mandate to check the executive branch’s authority. Continuing the trend of using executive authority against Congress and the people, he even openly admitted to refusing additional post office funding in order to hamper voting by mail. And the outgoing president has made ample use of his executive pardoning power unjustly: many of the pardoned, including Paul Manafort and Roger Stone, were Mr. Trump’s cronies embroiled in Robert Muller’s Russia probe, which revealed they had lied to Congress and obstructed justice to stymie transparency and the administration’s accountability to the legislature and the public.

Further records of Mr. Trump and his cabinet’s violations of the rule of law could fill dozens of more pages in this article. Nevertheless, even after four years of corruption, obstruction, and fraud, America remains a vibrant democracy. Despite pressure from Mr. Trump and his allies to overturn the election under the pretext of unproven allegations of voter fraud, the Electoral College still approved Joe Biden’s victory. In an admirable example of the US judiciary’s independence and integrity, the Republican-dominated Supreme Court struck down pleas by some (Republican-controlled) states to reject the outcome of the election. And perhaps most promisingly, the author of this article is able to document the Trump administration’s blatant disregard for law and custom with a constitutional right to freedom of speech.

Yet the constitution’s endurance does not guarantee its survival. By disregarding legal and customary precedent at every turn, Mr. Trump has redefined the president’s relationship with the law, ironically setting a new precedent. Indeed, he demonstrated that it was possible to repeatedly—and egregiously—violate the law all while avoiding its sanctions. A future president will find it easier to manipulate America’s institutions and destabilize its democracy owing to Mr. Trump’s example, especially his gleeful embrace of the unitary executive theory. The only barrier to his ambitions was his own incompetence and his cabinet’s clumsiness, which verged on the comical at times.

Reform, therefore, is crucial. It should aim at increasing the legislature’s check on the presidency and providing explicit means to tackle a president’s negligence of the law and established norms. A start is the Protecting Our Democracy Act of 2020, a proposal by House Democrats which would, among other things, restrict presidential pardon power, allow Congress to impose fines on officeholders who ignore congressional subpoenas, make it harder for the president to fire inspector generals, and codify some aspects of established custom, such as the illegality of accepting “dirt” from other countries on political opponents.

Passing the act is a start, but more needs to be done on the part of the people, government, and institutions to revitalize American democracy. Start with the people. The law embodies the ultimate expression of the social contract between the individual and the State. It represents, in the words of Thomas Hobbes, the “public conscience.” That means the law only has force if the people recognize its existence and, consequently, its rupture. Thus, Americans need to call out their president out when they subvert the laws, as they already have done in voting Mr. Trump out of office. Additionally, institutions such as the press should continue to scrutinize the government’s actions, as the remarkable journalism by myriad news outlets during the Trump presidency has shown. But journalism should also seek to restore the public’s confidence by promoting unbiased reporting and integrity; when half the population regards the press as vectors of “fake news,” it loses its ability to hold the government—including the legislature and the courts—accountable.

Finally, the State also has a role to play in safeguarding American democracy. Beyond respectable conduct and obeying the law, the incoming Biden administration must restore harmony between the executive branch and the legislature. Bitter relations between the Congress and the presidency hamper progress and stifle reform—an outcome surely to be avoided in the aftermath of the coronavirus pandemic and the damage it has wreaked across the nation. In addition, a government’s lack of constitutional accountability to Congress undermines the public’s confidence, fueling political radicalism in a time where moderation and sensible governance should be regarded as paragon virtues.

The great American democratic experiment is far from over. But after 200 years of successful results, the system failed to hold a reckless president fully accountable for his crimes. To ensure the survival of US democracy, revisiting the constitution’s framework for liberal government and the rule of law is the place to start.

The coronavirus pandemic provided governments around the world with new excuses to consolidate their power to the detriment of citizens. According to research by Freedom House, a reputable NGO that examines democracy and the rule of law internationally, the protection of human rights and the health of democracy weakened in 80 countries throughout 2020. Some states, such as Singapore, passed laws stifling civil dissent under the pretext of curbing cases. Others, like China, exploited the situation to arrest prominent democracy advocates, knowing the public’s response would be tamed by fears of spreading the virus. In these trying times for democracy, it is worthwhile to examine the fundamental ideas that underpin liberal political thought: namely, the notion of natural law and natural nights.

Natural law theory stipulates that humanity has a morality anterior to written and divine law (i.e., religion). From this natural law extends the implication of natural rights; written law cannot go against certain fundamental rights embedded in human nature. Therefore, the government must protect mankind’s natural rights in order to conform to the natural law. Indeed, for some theorists such as John Locke, the government’s sole role is to protect the individual’s natural rights with the coercive power of the law.

But the very existence of natural law is a subject of intense debate. Indeed, it rests on the notion that there is morality expressed in a “law” distinct from positive or divine law. The notion of an embedded natural morality presupposes that humans are different than other creatures of nature in possessing the capacity to interpret this morality; most natural law theorists would be reluctant to consider all creatures as equal in this regard since it would entail accepting natural rights for non-human beings. Nevertheless, the assumption requires the presence of an entity to differentiate humans from other animals—i.e., a God. The recourse to God, however, is troublesome, given philosophy may not take anything for granted—including the existence of a deity. So there must be a natural distinction between Man and other creatures if we are to be special in possessing the ability to discern the natural law. Such a distinction is the presence of reason. Therefore, reason must be the root of natural law. 

Reason allows one to differentiate between the good and the bad; it is the source of the morality of natural law. Natural law is consequently not impressed by God as a special part of our nature but stems from Man’s use of reason. Is it not, therefore, merely an extension of positive law, written and legislated by individual reason? Not quite. One does not need always need reason to distinguish good from bad; some acts are obvious to us. For example, charity will always be viewed as good, murder always as bad—reason does not show this, but it looks obvious by “nature.”

Yet, as we have seen, it is reason that illuminates the “good” and “bad” in nature and thereby forms what we consider natural law. We might conjecture a naturalistic explanation of how the use of reason led to a seemingly innate sense of morality. In the earliest communities, humans were like beasts—nothing was considered good “in of itself.” However, through reason, humans managed to distinguish good from bad, understanding that arbitrary murder, for example, is not conducive to the collective good. What was abstract over generations became concrete—internalized, to use the sociological term—to the point where the “bad” is obvious and the “good” explicit in the most basic of matters. 

So natural law does seem to exist, though not in the way some previous interpreters suggested (i.e., the presence of God as the ultimate source of our morality). But what about natural rights? That humans possess these natural rights outside of the scope of the sovereign is more of a new idea, a product of the struggle against absolute monarchy in the late 17th and 18th centuries. It arose out of the notion of the “state of nature”—a time marked by the absence of a State. In this framework, Man was free for there was no coercive power to subdue his liberty. Yet the arbitrary character of the state of nature—there were no limitations on liberty, meaning one’s liberty could override another’s—gave way to the presence of the State, established by an intangible social contract between the people and the sovereign, which offered protection and the implementation of law and order. 

But there are several difficulties with this notion. For one thing, how do we know these rights truly existed in nature? The state of nature appears, in reality, to be closer to Hobbes’s view of a ‘’state of war’’ than a Rousseauian paradise where people live in harmony. Perhaps the very notion of “rights” and “liberties” stems from the State—we are not free until we enter the polis and form a legal community. But ascribing fundamental, natural rights such as the freedom of speech, the right of association, freedom of conscience, and even private property to the State is a dangerous task, for it supposes that since the State provides these rights, it also has the authority to strip individuals of them at its will. Thus, the concept of natural rights arising from the state of nature serves more of a theoretical, rather than historical, purpose: we must imagine a theoretical sphere where humans were free from the constraints of any authority, and that this sphere is the natural sphere, and that government cannot infringe upon it except by the due process of law. In this sense, a country’s constitution is not Man conquering the state of nature—the establishment of a government. While the creation of a government is certainly part of the constitution, its recognition of natural rights, expressed in a ‘’Bill of Rights,’’ becomes the formal extension into a legal community of the freedom Man enjoys in nature.

It seems natural law, albeit problematic in some aspects, does provide a solid foundation for contemporary concerns about human rights and the extent of government authority. The humanist and liberal concern for the self-fulfillment of the individual can only be realized through the recognition of natural rights; it is only when we are free that we can choose our destiny and live in harmony. The liberal concern for individual fulfillment merges with the natural law tradition in the creation of a constitution, which provides the formal extension of natural rights into the sphere of government as established by the social contract between individuals and the State. 

As the United Kingdom and the European Union (EU) finally conclude a trade deal after three years of uncertainty, it seems fitting to reflect a little on what led us here. As a therapist examines a couple’s marriage, let us look at what prompted the UK to divorce its partner after more than 40 years together and what institutional changes are needed for the EU’s success henceforth. 

The EU’s central issue today, and what led the UK to leave, is the question of legitimacy. Out of the EU’s governing body of the European Parliament, European Council, Council of the European Union, and the European Commission—arguably the most potent European institution—citizens of the EU only directly elect the Parliament. All the other institutions are appointed by the heads of state and government of the EU’s member countries. The Parliament, the only entity elected by the people, serves as the EU’s weakest body. Meanwhile, the European Commission, appointed by the Council of the European Union, reserves the right to legislate and apply legislation; the European Council, composed of the various European heads of state and governments, frames and suggests directives; and the Council of the European Union, comprising ministers for each EU state, amend the laws. The Parliament may amend laws, but the Commission proposes them, and the Council of the European Union must approve them. The President of the Commission, currently Ursula Von der Leyen, needs the acceptance of Parliament; but the latter can only confirm or reject, with no power to propose its candidate. Ultimately, with the EU’s current institutional framework, the scope for the people’s influence on European legislation is quite weak, especially compared to government ministers and representatives of the member states. 

Hardly a surprise, then, that citizens feel the EU neglects their voice. More fundamentally, how is this institutional framework reconcilable with contemporary ideas on the conditions for political legitimacy, namely the presence of a government accountable to the people? One might object to this rather extreme statement by invoking the powers of the member states. They frame legislation, appoint the Commission and Council of the European Union, and ultimately all policy stems from their interests. And they are elected by the people—one of the EU’s essential criteria for member states is free and fair elections. So, why all the fuss? 

Conflicts between member states negate the democratic input they could provide. Larger, more powerful countries, such as Germany and France, can easily coerce smaller entities, such as Ireland and Greece, in the case of resistance in the Council. The Euro Crisis made the effects of this arrangement blatantly clear. In 2014, when Greece was struggling with overwhelming debt and with her economy in deep recession, the Troika—a coalition of the European Commission, the IMF, and European Central Bank (ECB)— continued to force a policy of austerity on the country despite the economic harm it would produce through curtailing spending. 

Worse, the Troika emphasized and made financial aid conditional on demands that would benefit powerful European states but not the country itself. For example, the Troika forced Greece to “reform” its milk packaging policy by extending the amount of time after which regulators could legally recognize a bottle as “fresh”. The “reform” did not mean to help Greece’s industry but rather to open the country to EU competitors, especially from France and Germany, whose corporations needed to ship their milk over longer distances. The same reasoning applies to the pharmaceutical “reform” the Troika insisted on, which aimed at prying open Greek markets for foreign European companies. But the legislation did not break a monopoly; instead, it favored multinational corporations such as the French Sanofi to the detriment of small, local stores. Greece became a “sacrificial lamb,” as the economist Joseph Stiglitz put it, exploited by dominant European powers to further their interests, not that of Europeans as a whole. 

 It appears the European Union’s current institutional framework favors vested interests to the detriment of democratic accountability. The Parliament, elected by European citizens, is the organization’s weakest body. Also, large member states often bully smaller ones, furthering their own ambitions, not that of the European people. Finally, the ambiguous definition of EU sovereignty empowers separationist movements, such as Brexit. Reform, aimed at securing political and legal legitimacy, is therefore crucial. There are two different paths the EU could take in this regard. The first is to establish a federation—a “United States of Europe.” Just as individual states such as California and Texas acknowledge the ultimate sovereignty of the US federal government, so would member countries of the EU. The government of the union would rest on elections by citizens of all member states, and the territory would be governed as a whole, ensuring greater democratic control. 

But establishing a federation requires deeper political integration of the EU’s various member states and acknowledging the supremacy of Brussels’s sovereignty—a task easier said than done when considering a bloc of nations with different languages, customs, and ideals. Member states would need a constitution to define their rights, but the last time one was proposed, voters rejected it in referendums in France and the Netherlands. Furthermore, the EU would need to reform its institutions to grant more accountability to the people since only the Parliament directly represents the interests of all European citizens. Would such widespread reform and change occur in a Union that just lost one of its most important states, the UK, and suffers from a lack of coherent policy goals?

Probably not—at least not for a long time. Any plans of uniting a continent divided for centuries by territory, religion, values, and language seem politically infeasible. To be sure, the EU does provide benefits to member countries. The idea of tying together countries that have often been at war through united economic benefits is undoubtedly appealing. The customs union, Schengen, and the common market were brilliant ideas of industrial policy. The EU’s political mandate—preserving democracy and the rule of law in Europe—deserves praise, though so far, countries such as Hungary and Poland have escaped any ramifications for widespread interference in their judiciaries. And a rising China and increasingly isolationist America, despite Mr. Biden’s victory over Trump, should surely prompt European countries to forge closer military and economic ties to maintain their political independence; a lone wolf, like Britain, will face a hard task ahead. 

The EU should remain but under a different organization. A better solution to a federation would be the establishment of a confederation of states. The current European Union is a mix of a federation and confederation, with the EU exercising its sovereignty over certain legislation and maintaining a strong grip over monetary policy, fiscal policy, and international representation. (For example, the EU negotiates trade deals, not member states.) However, member states often opt out of directives that all states must adhere to, such as the euro for Sweden. The conflict between European and national sovereignty evokes a sclerotic government that cannot assert universal policy and is unaccountable to the people. The unelected Commission takes the lead in legislation, and weaker countries such as Greece suffer EU directives without their consent while stronger ones can form coalitions against ideas they dislike, as the rich northern states have done to counter large European spending projects with the so-called league of the “frugal four.” 

Thus, states should create a confederation to maintain economic ties while also preserving national sovereignty. Heads of state and government would join together in an assembly or congress to decide new proposals, and the Commission can remain, albeit in an advisory capacity. The sole voting power would be in the congress of heads of state and government. The resulting compromise makes governments directly accountable to the people since they serve as their representatives in the congress while avoiding the thorny issue of European sovereignty. Since the EU would not be sovereign, there are no universal directives to be applied to everyone; meaning countries would be on a more or less equal footing in the assembly. If Germany does not partake in a specific resolution voted by the assembly, the directive would not be binding on it; but a smaller country like Greece would also reserve such a power. No more troika sacrifices. 

A confederation would thereby ensure national sovereignty while also preserving the benefits of economic integration. The single market could remain, but states should abandon economic plans with political goals such as the euro, despite their praiseworthy ambitions; countries could negotiate trade deals independently. Individual states would retain control over immigration, economic planning, climate policy, and the legislation and execution of laws; however, they may still band together to negotiate resolutions or directives on these issues, which would then become binding. Voting would be done by unanimous consensus; any country could opt out of a directive since sovereignty would be in the hands of the states, not the EU. The EU would thereby provide a place for yearly government assemblies to decide common issues while leaving the member states to do as they please when it comes to their individual problems. 

With the creation of a confederation, Europe’s governance will be less bureaucratic, more focused, and, ultimately, more responsive to citizens’ needs by preserving their national sovereignty. Asserting European sovereignty in a continent with such different political and economic views is an almost impossible task. Though the recent EU budget negotiations showed some promise—they managed to build a new budget while addressing some criticisms on corruption—the major dilemmas of the European Union, namely the question of sovereignty, remain unresolved. In its present state, the EU resembles a hodgepodge of lofty ambitions and unfinished projects with ambiguous scope; one need only glance at the overlap between the Eurozone, Schengen, and the EU’s borders to perceive the lack of a uniform, standard policy. Consequently, commendable policies such as Emmanuel Macron’s European defense fund, proposed in November of 2018, tend to drown in the crowd of directives instead of finding themselves into law. 

What the EU needs is a change of focus, not of the heart. Its goal of maintaining peace and prosperity for Europe is as admirable as ever; it just needs the proper institutional framework, a confederation, to make it work. 

As Americans head to the polls on November 3rd, for some voters the very soul of the nation is at stake. Arguments from both Republicans and Democrats attempt to portray the other side as fundamentally un-American. The two sides invoke, in some form or another, the founders’ ideals to illustrate their point. Democrats declare that President Trump abuses the constitution and the rule of law, undermining the system of checks and balances the framers created. Meanwhile, the Republicans allege that Biden’s America would be anathema to the founders, portraying the Democrats as against religious freedom and proponents of tyrannical “big government.” But what exactly was the founders’ vision of America? And, moreover, does today’s republic hold up to it?

America was unique in its creation because of the founders’ disdain for oligarchy and aversion to dogma. True, the American electorate in 1776 could very well be described as an oligarchy of sorts, due to its limited number of electors (they had to meet stringent property qualifications and women and African Americans were barred from voting). But the founders envisioned a country that was not characterized by the rigidness of European aristocracy, nor its reluctance to challenge established conviction, but by radical innovation and merit. In short, they wanted a meritocracy: a land where anyone with talent and hard work could reach the pinnacle of success. The French statesman and philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville who visited America in the 1830s wrote in his famous treatise Democracy in America that no two generations in the United States could expect to hold on to their wealth; because of intense competition between the brightest individuals, an institutionalization of wealth—such as Europe’s nobility at the time—would be all but impossible in the young republic. In Thomas Jefferson’s own words in his letter to John Adams in 1813, America deserved to be governed by a “natural aristocracy” of citizens endowed with “virtue” and “talent,” not the “artificial aristocracy” of “wealth and birth, without either virtue or talents” that characterized European monarchies. So powerful was the founders’ vision of equality of opportunity that it led directly to the notion of the American Dream—an ideal that made America a beacon for the ambitious across the world, and an emblem of freedom for the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free” drawn to its shores, as the poet Emma Lazarus put it. 

But unfortunately, this vision of America wanes. More and more of our top jobs in finance, industry, and government go to applicants from elite, private colleges with expensive entry fees only affordable for the richest families. Marriage has become tied closer to class, with interclass marriages decreasing drastically, leading to the formation of an educated elite that lives and works between itself. Social mobility has stagnated as income inequality, measured by the Gini coefficient, reaches record highs. And our economy is increasingly captured by superstar firms—such as Google, Apple, and Amazon—with sprawling corporate empires that reach across multiple sectors, twisting the rules of free-market competition. The pandemic has supercharged all these trends and especially exacerbated racial inequality. (Native, Black, and Latino Americans are around two and a half times more prone to catching Covid-19 and nearly five times as likely to require hospitalization as white people; African Americans alone are more than twice as likely to die from the disease as white Americans.) What is more, the current president, Donald Trump, seems keener on exploiting polarized politics instead of tackling—or even acknowledging—the country’s problems.

Yet there remains hope. In this era of global confusion and rising authoritarianism, America still evokes dreams of success. The same radical disruption that characterized earlier times—the same spirit, the American spirit the founders championed in 1776—is not fully lost on us today. And despite the divisive nature of our current politics, we can still come together: the founders of this country were no strangers to confrontation. Despite George Washington’s warnings that a party system would divide the nation, even before he became president the intellectual pluralism mandated by democracy inevitably led to discord. There were those who wanted a radical break from Britain and those who simply wished for representation in parliament. There were those who wanted a constitution and a vigorous national government and those who resisted, favoring a loose confederation of states. If Americans today reflect somberly over the dismal state of contemporary politics, they need only look back to the presidential election of 1800—only the third presidential election in the nation’s history—when Jefferson’s supporters disparaged incumbent president John Adams as a “repulsive pedant,” and Adams’ partisans described Jefferson’s America as a country where “murder, robbery, rape, adultery, and incest will openly be taught and practiced.”

The America of the founders was just as divisive as the one we have today; partisan bickering is no stranger to this nation. But the founders managed to come together—they managed to set their differences aside for compromise. In 1776 they mobilized against Britain; in 1787 they drafted a constitution; and after Jefferson won the election of 1800, Adams agreed to a peaceful transfer of power. If the founders could organize a defense against the world’s largest superpower, legislate what is essentially the world’s first constitution, and assure a peaceful transferal of power at the height of partisan animosity, surely we can put unity first as well. With luck, a Joe Biden presidency would replace the divisiveness of the Trump era with such patriotic solidarity, and Republicans and Democrats could come together as they have in the past. In doing so, we can tackle America’s rising oligarchism, and renew the founders’ vision of a country that champions merit, not status, achievements, not birth.

Defining liberalism seems straightforward enough. A quick google search ought to do the trick, right? It won’t. For centuries, liberals—and their opponents—have struggled to define the term. Across the world, the word means different things for different people. In Europe and Australia, it evokes market fundamentalism. To Americans, it is synonymous with big government and political correctness. Terms such as “neoliberal” and “progressive” are sometimes used to distinguish its myriad strands, often to little avail. Indeed, it is much easier to describe what is illiberal—authoritarianism, protectionism, oligarchy—than to find a coherent definition for liberalism.

 The tragedy today is that the world seems set more than ever for a backlash against liberalism, even as liberalism grapples with its conflicting identity. The Covid-19 pandemic has wreaked havoc on supply chains, exploiting the interconnectivity of a globalized world to decimate economies and lives on a massive scale. It has coerced states into closing down borders—turning down migrants and businesses—and caused skepticism of multilateral institutions. And it has increased the powers of the state to an extent unfathomable even a mere decade ago, all while America and China—the world’s two largest superpowers—look geared toward a 21^st century Cold War. All this sets the stage for a new world order—one that is more protectionist, unilateral, and fundamentally illiberal than any time since world war two. To adapt, the adage goes, is to survive. That is no more true for individuals than for political philosophies. If liberalism is to endure in the post-covid world, it must reform itself politically and intellectually. That requires synthesizing and integrating its disparate ideological strands into a coherent, logical whole.

The idea that liberalism is in crisis and in need of self-reform is nothing new. Books on the subject have multiplied ever since the Financial Crisis in 2008 exposed the limits of free markets and the frailty of the liberal elite. Coupled with the rise of right-wing populists such as Donald Trump, the victories of anti-globalist movements such as Brexit, and the relative success of self-professed democratic socialists and “progressives” on the American left, there is no doubt liberalism did face a challenge. Less than two years ago, The Economist, a traditionally liberal newspaper, published a large essay on the fact, calling for liberals across the world to take action instead of sinking into complacency.

Nevertheless, Covid-19 represents a genuinely new threat—one that will invigorate illiberal opposition and threaten liberal goals. Fears of increasing nationalism leading to isolationism could come true, as countries lock down borders to prevent the entry of potentially infected foreigners. These policies against migration may outlast the pandemic¹. As the virus destroyed global supply chains, worries about economic dependence on foreign powers—namely China—could prompt protectionism and endanger free trade. European leaders such as France’s finance and economy minister, Bruno Le Maire, are already talking of “national sovereignty” in economic affairs². Meanwhile, multilateral institutions such as the UN and WHO face intense scrutiny over their mishaps during the pandemic; the UN failed to keep temporary ceasefire agreements despite the universal threat posed by Covid-19, not least because of bickering between America and China³. In fact, it took two months after the return of hostilities for the Security Council to formally adopt a universal peace resolution. The UN is in such a fragile state that the United States—its founding father and, historically, its principal backer—pulled out of the World Health Organization (WHO) in early July⁴. Not to mention that the economies of the rich world and beyond are in tatters, and that, as a response, government is more bloated than ever.

Faced with collapsing multilateral institutions, increasing hostility toward open borders and free trade, and the swelling of the state, liberals have an arduous task: preserving the world order they helped build to respond to tomorrow’s challenges. The towering issues of the twenty-first century—income inequality, climate change, and the rise of an authoritarian China—can not be solved outside of the liberal framework. No other political philosophy provides the necessary emphasis on individual liberty and rational cooperation that is integral to tackling crucial problems. But even as liberals try to mobilize their resources for change, they face a profound identity crisis—one that is building up for decades. Right-wing libertarians think conventional liberalism’s emphasis on justice and equality of opportunity tramples economic freedom. Left-leaning “New Deal” liberals, and their fellow “progressives,” consider the doctrine’s laissez-faire free trade and free-marketeer spirit a threat to social justice. Liberals stuck in the center don’t know how to respond: both sides have some merit to their points. In the end, they are left exposed to attacks on all sides, culminating in the rise of populism and radicalism seen well before the pandemic.

What liberalism needs at this moment is self-reflection. Only then can it unite its seemingly contradictory strands into a coherent, politically presentable whole. For starters, it is worth understanding how liberalism came to be in the first place. Though traces of liberalism can be identified in writers of antiquity, the middle ages, and the Renaissance, liberalism as we know it today mainly appeared in the work of two 17^th century English thinkers: Thomas Hobbes and John Locke. Both developed their philosophy in a quest to define political legitimacy: what made a government representative of its subjects. Hobbes introduced the idea of an implicit “social contract” formed between the people and the government; this contract defines the scope of the state’s reach into our lives and the extent of individual liberty. The monarch is not legitimate because of “divine will,” but rather because the people accept their contract. Therefore, a ruler’s legitimacy lies with the consent of the governed. To this, Locke added the idea of inviolable “natural rights”: the right to life, liberty, and property, as he famously expressed in his Two Treatises of Government. These rights are sacred, and the sovereign can never breach them without the due process of law. The ideas of these two thinkers would later form the backbone of the Age of Enlightenment and America’s constitutional revolution.

So, what do these two classical thinkers teach us about liberalism today? It seems, based on Hobbes and Locke’s thinking, that their central preoccupation was not social justice, economic freedom, or even democracy—but individual liberty. They sought to conceive a political system where the state—society’s most powerful organized group—could not undermine the rights of the individual. The further concepts of representative government, separation of powers, the universal rule of law, and human rights, all serve to strengthen the individual’s independence from the state. They create a limited scope for interference from government that is only applicable if sanctioned by the due process of law.

Contemporary liberalism would do well to revive the classical concern for individual liberty. Of course, as societies evolved and transformed, new strands of thought developed to respond to society’s most pressing problems. FDR’s New-Deal liberalism emerged out of the calamity that was the Great Depression; the welfare state came out of concerns for individual wellbeing. Even democracy—often considered synonymous with liberalism—was a later contribution, the result of a backlash against 19th-century aristocracy. But an emphasis on individual liberty is compatible with many tenets of modern liberalism and can serve as a yardstick for judging future policy. For example, in the United States, the idea of universal healthcare is repudiated by many right-wingers under the assumption that it empowers state control. But one can hardly argue that universal health insurance poses a threat to an individual’s liberty—especially when so many on the right seem fine with massive military expenditures by government. Even a philosopher such as Friedrich Hayek, the great Austrian liberal-turned-libertarian, argued in his 1944 Road to Serfdom that “the case for the state’s helping to organize a comprehensive system of social insurance is very strong.” Though welfare policies such as universal healthcare may have other problems, it is at the very least necessary for politicians of all stripes to consider them, instead of dogmatically rebuking them with the catch-all label of “socialism.”

On the other hand, remembering the fundamental of liberty can help identify potentially dangerous policies, such as Senator Elizabeth Warren’s proposal last year to federally charter corporations. Though in principle federal charters could serve to regulate corrupt businesses, such legislation can face regulatory capture. If the government is the arbiter of whether a specific company’s acts are in accordance with the values of “stakeholders”, then any government can choose to persecute a politically hostile company and its shareholders with vague charges of abuse. Under the pretext of protecting “stakeholders”, the state wields an almost infinite coercive power over companies. Indeed, in the hands of the Donald Trumps of the world, the legislation can do tremendous harm to individual liberty. Better to keep corporations in check through antitrust law and transparent legal proceedings, where the rule of law allows for particular infringements to be considered by a citizen jury, instead of delegating the deciding power to the state.

Valuing liberty is the best way to advance liberalism in the 21^st century. Liberals must not present themselves as a complacent, aristocratic, out of touch elite, but rather as crusaders for freedom. They should seize the moment to “crush infamy”—that which is dogmatic and against freedom, as the French Enlightenment thinker Voltaire put it. They should also embrace skepticism, just as their predecessors did, to articulate convincing arguments against nationalist ideologues and militant “progressives.” They must do what liberal government was made to do: provide the necessary conditions for an individual to flourish, not organize their life. Domestically, that means securing the transparency of the law, opening the economy by crushing monopolies and investing heavily in education and worker retraining. Abroad, it entails thoughtful, rational cooperation to forge international commitments to human rights, democracy, and fighting all-encompassing issues like climate change. In short, it must present itself as a force for change while remembering the lessons of the past; a path to progress guided by reason, debate, and an aversion to dogma.

The world produced by Covid-19 will not be the world of before. It will probably be more protectionist, isolationist, and illiberal. But that need not be the case. Worries on economic dependence on a single nation could foster rigorous multinational supply chains—a more dynamic, and ultimately more global, sort of globalization. It might also prompt a rethink of the harm done by some aspects of globalization, and how to remedy it through policy. The loss of faith in multilateral institutions may show the dangers of slipping American support, and, in turn, actually invigorate them. And the enlarged pillars of the state will, at the very least, overturn the dogmatic idea that government is solely the problem, and never a solution. But for this good to come true, liberalism must be at the forefront of the debate—not “progressives” or rancorous populists. Indeed, Covid-19 offers an opportunity to make a better world, but only with the right mindset. That mindset is a revitalized form of liberalism. Not neoliberalism. Not progressivism. Liberalism.

Works Cited

1. “When covid-19 recedes, will global migration start again?” The Economist, August 1^st, 2020.

https://www.economist.com/international/2020/08/01/when-covid-19-recedes-will-global-migration-start-again

2. Cerulus, Laurens. “Coronavirus forces Europe to confront China dependency.” Politico Europe, March 03, 2020.

https://www.politico.eu/article/coronavirus-emboldens-europes-supply-chain-security-hawks/

3. “How Covid-19 gave peace a chance, and nobody took it.” The Economist, May 05, 2020.

https://www.economist.com/international/2020/05/05/how-covid-19-gave-peace-a-chance-and-nobody-took-it

4. Hinshaw, Drew; Armour, Stephanie. “Trump Moves to Pull U.S. Out of World Health Organization in Midst of Covid-19 Pandemic.” Wall Street Journal, July 07, 2020.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/white-house-says-u-s-has-pulled-out-of-the-world-health-organization-11594150928

Ever since the Global Financial Crisis rocked the world in 2008, populism has been a staple of politics in the democratic world. From the US to Europe to Latin America, demagogues ran rampant, thriving off of the division and economic misery engendered by the GFC. In fact, before the coronavirus pandemic, populism was on the upswing. In America, President Donald Trump was cruising more or less toward reelection; Boris Johnson had won a resounding electoral victory in the UK; and Europe’s populist parties—such as Vox in Spain and AfD in Germany—seemed ingrained in the continent’s parliaments. But with Covid-19 illustrating the need for effective national leadership during a crisis, the populist movement’s ascendency may be over. A new question thus arises: Will Covid-19 kill populism?

There is no universal definition of populism, which brings some difficulties when trying to evaluate the fate of the so-called “populist movement.” While liberalism, socialism, and conservatism all have established intellectual and political traditions, populism lacks any dominant current. But it is this very anti-intellectualism that is often its main characteristic, along with a preference for passion over facts, emotion over reason, and drama over nuance. Steve Bannon, President Trump’s former White House Chief Strategist (who was recently arrested for fraud), introduced some semblance of common ideology to populism, albeit bordering on conspiratorial nonsense. He regularly referred to a “populist movement” of nationalist leaders from Europe and the Americas in opposition to the “Party of Davos”, the liberal coalition of mainstream politicians, financiers, and global businessmen seeking to promote globalization and free trade to the alleged detriment of their native countries. With these characteristics, we may judge a significant portion of the democratic world’s politicians as “populists”. Examples include the aforementioned Donald Trump and Boris Johnson, but also lesser-known figures, such as Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro and Hungary’s Viktor Orban.

For years the “populist movement”, as Bannon puts it, was on the upswing. As mentioned previously, support for such politicians in the Americas and Europe was looking stronger than ever: Trumpian protectionism was starting to replace free-trade doctrine in America; Boris Johnson had succeeded in convincing the British people to abandon their commercial and political alliance with the EU by “getting Brexit done”; and leaders such as Viktor Orban proudly proclaimed the superiority of “illiberal democracy” over the mainstream social and economic liberalism dominant in the West since the downfall of the USSR. Moreover, this new populism had succeeded where other anti-elitist movements had failed—it started looking like a part of the mainstream. Establishment bastions such as the GOP and the Conservative Party in the UK lost their conservatism to reactionary politics. Far-right nationalist parties rooted themselves in Europe’s parliaments and gained seats in the double digits. Indeed, what had seemed to be a reaction to the political order of the pre-2008 world was looking like a rising orthodoxy.

The arrival of Covid-19 may change all this. Usually, crises tend to invigorate, not undermine, populists. Demagogues thrive on conflict—and conflict is never more present than in a crisis. When the Great Depression hit Europe in the 1930s, demagoguery in Italy and Germany gave rise to Fascism and the Nazi regime as well as radical socialist movements. The same populist backlash happened after the GFC, the last worldwide social and economic calamity. But Covid-19 has created a different sort of crisis. The Great Depression and the GFC were the results of speculation and market folly; an inadequate government response in the first case and the bailing out of big banks in the second only added fuel to the populists’ anger at the so-called establishment’s incompetence. In the case of Covid-19, however, centrist politicians managed quite well, negating the worst effect of the disease on the economy and society. Germany’s chancellor, Angela Merkel, implemented an early quarantine, stifling the virus’s growth. (Today, Germany has one of the lowest figures of deaths and cases per person in the world.) Further, her government skillfully deployed the country’s furlough program, the Kurzabeit, to safeguard jobs; unemployment in Germany today is around 6.4%, much lower than America’s 10.2%, as a comparison. Other success stories so far include South Korea, where President Moon Jae-in and his government efficiently utilized contact-tracing technology to identify and quarantine the sick in the early stages of the pandemic. New Zealand, led by prime minister Jacinda Ardern, has almost no new case rises. While practically no country emerged unscathed after the 2008 Financial Crisis, there are myriad examples of sound governing to be found during the coronavirus pandemic. In fact, most countries that currently grapple with the virus are precisely ones weakened by the strife and division populists thrive off.

Take the example of America. The United States has long prided itself as a model of good government. It has led the world through countless crises—including the Ebola epidemic of 2014-2016. Yet the Covid-19 pandemic broke the American government, especially the executive branch, whose response to the various issues brought on by the virus was wholly inadequate for the task at hand. While other countries stressed the importance of science and public unity, Donald Trump immediately declared the disease a “hoax” contrived by Democrats seeking to undermine his reelection. When the first states ravaged by the virus, such as New York and Massachusetts, were begging for PPE, instead of mobilizing the federal government’s vast resources to supply the necessary equipment he chose to play them against each other, increasing costs and delaying the arrival of vital medical gear in the midst of a pandemic no less. His slow response toward testing set the US back weeks compared to other countries with effective testing regimes, such as Germany and South Korea. And his dogmatic insistence that America should reopen its economy as soon as possible influenced governors in hotbed states to open bars, restaurants, and other public spaces even as the virus was not yet under control. Because of constant policy and leadership failures, the United States leads the world in total coronavirus cases and deaths—with the two showing almost no end in sight.

None of this should be particularly surprising. Donald Trump’s response during the Covid-19 crisis largely reflects his populist politics: demonize opponents (the so-called “Radical Left”, i.e. the Democrats); shift blame (here toward China and the WHO); and insist that, despite statistics, science, and common sense, everything is totally fine and the virus will eventually magically disappear. His approach is echoed by leaders such as Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro, president of the world’s second most infected country, who was even diagnosed with Covid-19 last month. Yet despite an outward show of aloofness, the two leaders’ popularity has suffered since the outbreak. Indeed, Trump has tried to boost his dismal popularity ratings by invoking an alternative reality in which he managed to successfully eradicate Covid-19, and Bolsonaro has only salvaged his good graces with the public through cash bailouts. The same story goes for Boris Johnson who, despite benefitting from an initial boost of popularity, now muddles on with only around 30% of the nation supporting his handling of the virus in most polls. On the other hand, surveys generally indicate strong public support for heads of state such as Jacinda Ardern, Angela Merkel, and Moon Jae-in —all leaders who successfully managed the crisis. The decrease in popularity for populist leaders and the increase among more establishment politicians perhaps demonstrates the public’s yearning for sensible government instead of divisive politics. Coupled with the pandemic’s supercharging of previous issues plaguing the rich world—such as income inequality and tepid wage growth—the Covid-19 crisis may signal the end of the populist era. A new sense of urgency, along with the failure of populist politicians to handle a real crisis, could motivate some to seek more establishment candidates with a proven record.

Of course, the pendulum might shift the other way. The downturn caused by quarantine could inflame politics instead of empowering moderate politicians. The dramatic exposure of income and racial inequality, especially in the US, may invigorate right-wing and left-wing radicals. And perhaps countries successful so far in handling Covid-19 will struggle when faced with a second wave and a lingering recession. But despite these possible scenarios, signs of a weakening populist movement remain; populist politicians around the world face declining popularity in polls, and the public seems to have realized that inflaming fake crises does not equate to thoughtful leadership in a real one. Upcoming elections will determine the fate of this hypothesis. The American election this November will be of particular interest. So will Germany’s federal election in 2021, and Brazil’s in 2022. Also look out for France’s 2022 presidential race, where the centrist Emmanuel Macron will probably face-off with the nationalist Marine Le Pen. The coronavirus crisis has already made history. The demise of today’s populism might be another one of its monumental consequences.

The European Union is considered a bastion of liberalism and democracy. In a world increasingly torn between an erratic America and an authoritarian China, Europe offers refreshing hope. Its leaders efficiently and transparently managed the Covid-19 health crisis, while in some states in America the virus is on the upswing and China initially scrambled to cover-up the disease. Countries all around the world look up to it for guidance on human rights and economic issues; even Americans, citizens of the world’s largest economy, think they stand to benefit from emulating some of its members’ social policies, such as universal healthcare. And all around the world, corporations adopt EU regulation as a baseline, a phenomenon known as the Brussels Effect. Yet as the dust settles after the coronavirus pandemic, the EU faces a herculean task: preserving its economic and political union in the face of increasing authoritarianism from the inside. Two of the bloc’s members, Poland and Hungary, pose an existential challenge to Europe—a threat that must be dealt with if the EU wants to remain a leader of the democratic world. 

That two countries in the world’s largest democratic bloc are exhibiting authoritarian tendencies may come as a surprise. It shouldn’t. Poland’s ruling Law and Justice Party (PiS) and Victor Orban’s Fidesz party in Hungary have eroded their respective countries’ democratic foundations ever since they were swept into power. In Poland, PiS has repeatedly tried to subvert the rule of law, a key principle of liberal democracy, to various degrees of success. Under the pretext of “de-communizing” the judiciary, the government attempted to pass a law in 2018 that would, in practice, remove select judges by lowering the retirement age[1]. When the measure failed because of EU pressure, the party instead resorted to passing so-called judicial “reforms” to achieve the same effect. For example, in late 2019 it created a disciplinary chamber for Poland’s Supreme Court with the power to suspend its judges. The members of the chamber were to be chosen by the president and the country’s official jurists’ association; the catch, however, is that the nation’s president is backed by PiS and that the national jurists’ association is under control of parliament, where the party has a majority[2]. Such rules blatantly violate the independence of the country’s judiciary and undercut the democratic foundations of the legal system.  

Under the leadership of prime minister Viktor Orban, Hungary’s ruling Fidesz party is also busy destroying liberal democracy. A report in 2019 by Freedom House, a think tank that compiles research on democracy around the world, found that Hungary’s ruling Fidesz party undermines the country’s rule of law, the freedom of its press, and uses its power to control the private sector, NGOs, and even the nation’s academia[3]. (Orban notoriously kicked out one of the country’s top schools, the Central European University, over a quarrel with its founder, Jewish billionaire George Soros.) These actions against democratic institutions led the think tank to downgrade Hungary’s status from “Free” to “Partly Free” on its annual reports on democracy in 2019 and 2020, putting the country on par with nations like Pakistan and Zimbabwe. 

So it seems the EU finds itself in an embarrassing situation. Two of its recent members—once hailed as promising young democracies—are now increasingly undemocratic. Despite defying the EU’s constitutional commitment to liberalism and democracy, both nations preserve their EU membership and receive EU money: Hungary collected over €6bn worth of grants in 2018[4], worth almost 5% of the nation’s GDP and Poland got over €16bn that same year, more than 3% of its GDP[5]. Further, both countries reap enormous benefits from the union’s single market, which allows their companies to sell their goods to states across Europe; intra-EU trade is 80% of Poland’s exports and 82% of Hungary’s. 

The EU cannot continue this way. A union that claims to safeguard liberal democracy should not tolerate flagrant violations of democratic institutions and principles by its member states. With PiS’s repeated efforts to undermine the rule of law in Poland and Orban’s crusade against democracy in Hungary, the EU has a clear mandate to act. It ought to sanction both Hungary and Poland for their illiberal actions and suspend their membership if they persist. But alas, the EU has failed in enforcing these measures. While in 2018 it tried to punish Poland through suspending its membership in the ENCJ—the bloc’s judicial network—and triggered Article 7, which can strip the country of its voting rights, little has changed in practice. The ENCJ decision does not interfere with Poland’s EU aid, and the country is still on track to adopt the euro (though the date is not specified), a sign of ongoing integration. The same goes for Hungary, who also became subject to Article 7 in 2018. 

Further, it remains to be seen whether the EU can do much to directly enforce legal norms in the two countries. Ever since Germany’s Constitutional Court declared the ECB’s quantitative-easing program partially unconstitutional, the EU’s legal order is up in the air; it is unclear whether a federal court can challenge an EU order and vice versa. Thus, even if the EU’s courts put pressure—like the ECJ did this week when it ruled against a Hungarian NGO law[6]—they might not get anywhere if local courts give their approval. For now, the only certain measure the EU can take is triggering the next step of Article 7: imposing sanctions and freezing voting rights, which requires a two-thirds majority in the European Parliament and the unanimous consent of the European Council[7], which comprises all of the EU’s heads of state. Continuing with Article 7 is often dubbed “the nuclear option”, yet today it seems necessary: neither Poland nor Hungary has stopped its wrongdoing since Article 7 was first invoked in 2017 and 2018 respectively. In fact, Freedom House’s 2020 report indicates that Hungary’s democracy has worsened since 2018[8], and Poland’s illiberal judicial reform came into law in 2019—two years after the first step of Article 7 was triggered. 

Therefore, the EU needs to organize a vote in parliament as soon as possible on whether it should continue with the rest of Article 7. To avoid either Hungary or Poland vetoing against the process in the council—as Orban promised to do in 2018[9] when only Poland was subject to Article 7—the EU should not hold two separate votes but rather a general vote concerning all countries that repeatedly breach the EU’s democratic standard—in this case, Hungary and Poland. Since both members would be subject to the same vote and are hence unable to deploy their veto power, this removes the chance of them tag-teaming against the EU. Though the process may be politically painful for the union, it is the only way the EU can maintain its constitutional commitment to safeguarding political and civil liberties. Both Poland and Hungary benefit enormously from EU aid; it is highly unlikely either of them would leave the union, avoiding a political quagmire. So with abandoning EU membership off the table—and faced with potential economic sanctions and no voting rights—continuing with Article 7 would force Hungary and Poland to relinquish their assaults on democracy, and remember their democratic obligations to their citizens. 

Europe’s leaders from France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, to the European Commission president, Ursula Von der Leyen, often claim “European Sovereignty” in international affairs. They seek a unique voice for Europe in an increasingly perilous world—one dominated by an autocratic China and a newly isolationist America. But for Europe to assume a strong position in the diplomatic roundtable, it first needs to safeguard liberalism and democracy at home. With two member states flirting with authoritarianism, its image as a protector of democracy and a rules-based entity will weaken, undermining its message. It must force Hungary and Poland to comply with EU standards, even if it requires suspending their membership and curtailing grants. ECJ rulings and the current state of Article 7 are not enough; the only way to reform these two countries is by leveraging the economic advantages provided by the EU. If Europe seeks recognition as a world power that can rival China and America, it should first safeguard what makes it unique: a reputation as a beacon of liberalism and democracy.

Works Cited:

1. “Poland’s ruling party should stop nobbling judges.” The Economist, January 25, 2020. 

https://www.economist.com/leaders/2020/01/25/polands-ruling-party-should-stop-nobbling-judges

2. “Europe confronts Poland over its trampling on the rule of law.” The Economist, January 25, 2020.

https://www.economist.com/leaders/2020/01/25/polands-ruling-party-should-stop-nobbling-judges

3. R. Daniel Kelemen, “Hungary’s democracy just got a failing grade.” Washington Post, February 7, 2019. 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/monkey-cage/wp/2019/02/07/hungarys-democracy-just-got-a-failing-grade/

4. “Hungary.” European Union website, accessed June 17, 2020. 

https://europa.eu/european-union/about-eu/countries/member-countries/hungary_en

5. “Poland.” European Union website, accessed June 17, 2020.

https://europa.eu/european-union/about-eu/countries/member-countries/poland_en

6. Benjamin Novak, “Top E.U. Court Rules Against Hungary’s N.G.O. Law.” The New York Times, June 18, 2020. 

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/18/world/europe/hungary-eu-ngo-law.html

7. Ginger Hervey, Emmet Livingstone, “What is Article 7.” Politico Europe, January 13, 2016. 

https://www.politico.eu/article/hungary-eu-news-article-7-vote-poland-rule-of-law/

8. “Hungary.” Freedom House, accessed June 21, 2020. 

https://freedomhouse.org/country/hungary/freedom-world/2020

9.  Soraya Sarhaddi Nelson, “How Poland And Hungary Are Forming A Powerful Tag Team Against Brussels.” NPR, March 12, 2018.

https://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2018/03/12/587949473/how-poland-and-hungary-are-forming-a-powerful-tag-team-against-brussels

America is a state in crisis. With over 100,000 deaths from Covid-19, 20 million unemployed, and outrage over apparently inexorable police violence, the country looks increasingly chaotic. To end the strife and settle its mistakes, America needs a new social contract.

A social contract is an implied consensus between members of a society to cooperate for social and economic benefits. People agree to sacrifice some of their freedoms in exchange for state protection of their rights. Though not explicit, elements of a social contract are present in a country’s constitution, a document that outlines the reach of the state in individuals’ lives all while defining the limits of an individual’s liberty. The breakup of the social contract results in the destruction of society; when society cannot agree on a relationship between the people and the government, then there is no society at all.

America finds itself in a similar situation today. Though not a failed state, many feel the government has betrayed them—bungling its response to the coronavirus pandemic, crashing the economy to levels not seen since the Great Depression, and unleashing widespread violence against racial minorities, namely African Americans. The aftermath of George Floyd’s tragic death at the hands of a Minneapolis police officer illustrates the sense of injustice, with thousands of protestors now marching in the streets calling for fundamental judicial and political reforms—despite often intense police opposition. Concerns over inequality—especially in regard to the disproportional suffering Covid-19 causes in black communities—lack of decisive legislative action in recent years, and perverse policing standards, boiled over, causing the strife seen on America’s streets today.

What can be done to unite the nation once more? There are two options: strangle dissent or listen to calls for change. The current administration looks inclined toward the former. President Trump recently tweeted “when the looting starts, the shooting starts”—a direct threat to the mostly peaceful protestors. He also forcibly removed dissidents near the White House and tweeted a letter on Thursday calling the same people “terrorists”, contrasting America’s respect for civil dissent with seemingly authoritarian instincts. He even considered invoking the military (the National Guard is already deployed), casting an eerie, Orwellian shadow over peaceful protests. (His actions were criticized by 280 former senior US officials, who drafted a letter challenging the president’s use of force.) With a Nixonian fondness for “law and order”, Trump’s solution appears simple: quell the unrest with force, maintain the status quo, and keep the nation divided between his own supporters and the so-called “Radical Left”. Demonizing opponents—by, for example, declaring the left-wing Antifa group a terrorist organization—will energize his base and strike fear in Americans. Through this strategy, the same anxiety that propelled him to victory will only increase. It will leave the nation more divided, not less.

The alternative way forward is for Congress and the White House to listen to the nation’s grievances and push for change. Even before the unrest following Floyd’s death, America was uneasy. The pandemic wiped out the longest economic expansion in the nation’s history and replaced it with a devastating downturn. Over 100,000 Americans are dead—a larger tally than after the Vietnam War. Concerns over income inequality—a hot topic even before the virus struck—were vindicated as research showed poorer communities, especially communities of color, suffered the most deaths from coronavirus and higher job losses. Not to mention that anger over inequality and police violence has been widespread since the 2008 financial crisis and the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.

It seems clear, therefore, that change is inevitable; indignation has been building up for a decade now. But that does not mean it will happen quickly. It is up to us, the people, to force the presidency and legislature to act. That means fundamentally reworking our relationship with the government: we must create a new social contract by demanding more from our leaders. Before the hardships of the 1930s, Americans did not expect much from their government. When disaster struck during the Great Depression, few called for a government stimulus to boost the economy; the idea of the state involving itself in economic affairs was, indeed, radical at the time. But Roosevelt’s New Deal changed that. Besides from the policies it pushed forward—such as a right to unemployment benefits or Social Security—it established a new association between the individual and the state. The idea of the government acting in economic affairs or local politics to promote social good became common. In fact, it directly led to the sweeping legislative changes of Lyndon B. Johnson’s Great Society, where the state routinely intervened to safeguard civil rights and ensure consumer protection.  

The America of today needs a similar overhaul of the relationship between people and state. After a decade of static government, Americans demand significant legislative changes. Partisan opposition currently halts any meaningful legislation, but a return to a New-Deal coalition of both Democrats and Republicans is possible. Many issues can and should receive political support from both sides of the aisle. Rising inequality should worry Democrats, concerned with racial justice, but also Republicans, who cherish the American Dream. Police violence and militarization anger Democrats since its victims are often minorities, notably African Americans; but police brutality should also alarm Republicans, as they claim to support limited government and individual freedoms. Other crucial matters can have bipartisan solutions. When it comes to climate change, for example, a carbon tax satisfies the Democrats’ desire to reduce carbon emissions while also being a market-based solution, checking Republican boxes. If only the people—particularly young, activist-minded individuals—continue to lobby both their Democratic and Republican representatives, then we can achieve the dire legislative action this country needs.

The coronavirus pandemic and George Floyd’s death revealed many of America’s problems while also highlighting the people’s fury with the status quo. As demonstrations slowly abate across the country after almost two weeks of action, lawmakers should seize the movement to pass meaningful legislation and unite the nation. The social contract must change—we must continue to lobby the government to act on the vital issues of our time instead of idly preserving the status quo. The state should not expand or control our lives; rather, it must mobilize its legislative and executive capacities to deliver the change the people so desperately crave. Because if not now, then when?

The Covid-19 disease sent shockwaves throughout the world. Though it started in the city of Wuhan in Hubei, China, the virus quickly made its way to the four corners of the globe—its grasp stretching all the way from Australia to America to Europe. Even tiny, far-flung islands such as Fiji confirmed cases. No large country managed to escape its deadly clutches; the death toll as of today, April 26, reaches around 207,000 with nearly three million sick worldwide¹. Leading rich democracies such as America, France, and the UK struggle to tackle the disease, which wreaks havoc in their cities and strains government budgets. In fact, all over the OECD, a club of mostly rich countries, states rushed to bail-out businesses and subsidize households facing mass unemployment; in America, the stimulus totaled over $2tn² with a $484bn³ increase coming—around three times the money spent in the aftermath of the Great Recession.

Yet the consequences of the pandemic are not confined to its death toll and domestic economic ills; they also extend into the realm of international politics. While the Covid-19 pandemic has done visible damage to the economies and societies of the rich, liberal-democratic West, Xi Jinping’s China stays quiet in the East. As of April 26, 2020, the country claims to have seen only about 84,000 cases⁴—more than eleven times less than America, whose tally reaches 985,000⁴. Indeed, as liberal democracy scrambles to curtail the pandemic, China’s system of one-party, authoritarian state capitalism seems to be doing just fine. But make no mistake: to the contrary of the Chinese Communist Party’s bluster, the Covid-19 pandemic threatens China’s financial and strategic interests. The virus disrupts China’s global economic plans, namely its flagship Belt and Road Initiative; weakens its political standing and credibility across the world; and undermines its social model, which relies on inexorable domestic economic growth.

Start with China’s global economic plans. China is an industrial and commercial powerhouse, leading the world in both manufacturing output and exports; the country produced 28% of world manufacturing in 2018⁵ and 13.45%⁶ of global exports in 2019. In comparison, the US lags in second place with only 16.6% of world manufacturing⁵ and 8.98%⁶ of exports. Thanks to such economic muscle, today, China occupies a crucial position in world trade and production—yet that will weaken in the aftermath of Covid-19. Indeed, China might lack the capital needed for its ambitious financial plans if the virus continues to rampage both at home and abroad. As world trade takes a hit, China will no doubt suffer the consequences; Adam Slater, the lead economist at Oxford Economics, reckons global commerce will probably show double-digit annual declines in the coming months⁷—which does not bode well for the world’s largest exporter. In fact, exports already decreased by 17.2% in the first two months of 2020 compared to the previous year⁹, and the nation’s economy contracted by 6.8% compared to last year in the first few months of 2020⁸—the first time it shrank in around half a century.

Moreover, less trade and interconnectivity threaten Xi Jinping’s signature Belt and Road Initiative, which plans to forge a new world economy bound to China. The “belt” portion of the plan attempts to reinvigorate the infrastructure of the ancient Silk Road, a web of trade networks linking China to Europe; the “road” part establishes new sea routes departing from China to link-up the world. Participants in both initiatives include an array of Asian countries, some African and South American nations, and even plenty of EU members, such as Italy and Austria. For now, China takes part in joint industrial and infrastructure projects with the partnering nations and funds other activities through state loans. The Belt and Road Initiative is of immense economic and geopolitical significance to both the country and its president; it channels China’s capital and know-how toward strengthening political and economic ties with nations across the globe—sidelining the United States, the country’s chief geopolitical rival.  However, the Covid-19 pandemic disrupts the project’s short-run economic goals and menaces its long-run geopolitical ambitions. 

The short-term consequences of Covid-19 concern the plan’s financials. As China struggles to offset its economy’s contraction with a $564bn stimulus package⁹, it cannot afford to open the taps for the Belt and Road Initiative as well. With a weak banking sector, towering domestic debt as a share of GDP of 310%, and still reeling from its deficit spending in the wake of the Great Recession, the country barely handles its domestic economic woes⁹; it certainly cannot afford to engage in sweeping spending plans abroad. Furthermore, many of the Belt and Road’s partnering developing countries will find it increasingly hard to pay back their loans to China as the virus ravages their economies, causing even more of a slowdown in the project’s funding. The plan is key to Xi Jinping’s overall geopolitical strategy; it will eventually see the light of day despite short-term difficulties. But the Covid-19 pandemic strains China’s financials, delaying the project, and thus provides time for Western powers to reinforce their own economic agendas and institutions.

The political ramifications of Covid-19 for China relate to the virus’s long-term consequences on the Belt and Road Initiative and the effect this will have on China’s geopolitical standing. If this pandemic showed anything to the international community, it was the potential consequences of  overdependence on China; when the country shut down its factories to prevent the spread of the virus, Europe and America suffered supply-chain shortages, forcing them to reconsider their economic ties with Beijing. In France, the finance minister, Bruno Le Maire, raised questions of national sovereignty; he said France needed to assert itself in industries of strategic importance, such as aerospace and medicine, instead of delegating them to other powers—chief among them China.¹⁰ In America, the virus made experts fret about the country’s dependence on Chinese drug manufacturing; by one estimate, 80% of antibiotics used in the US are produced in China¹¹—a significant liability in wartime, according to some policy wonks.

The pandemic vindicates a broader set of worries on China’s role in the world economy: its abuse of intellectual property laws, its subsidizing of domestic industry, and the West’s colossal dependence on the nation for raw materials and other intermediate products. The worries are inflamed by China’s suspiciously shiny official figures of the country’s Covid-19 cases. At roughly 84,000 confirmed cases as of April 26, the numbers appear remarkably modest for a country of 1.3bn people—especially when considering advanced democracies such as the United States report 985,000 cases, Germany 158,000, and the UK 153,000. America and Australia are demanding an international inquiry into China’s handling of the outbreak and the origins of the disease—a sign of mounting pressures. A new Hong Kong study concluded China’s number of Covid-19 cases in its first wave might have been 232,000, four times the official statistic at the time of around 55,000¹², which bolsters claims of foul play. And no one has forgotten how China initially silenced doctors and others who warned of a novel coronavirus in Wuhan.

The example of recent concerns in the UK over Huawei, a Chinese company that represents the digital side of the Belt and Road Initiative, demonstrates how suspicions of China’s official figures and handling of Covid-19 may disrupt diplomatic and economic relations, jeopardizing China’s larger geopolitical strategy. While the UK’s Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, agreed in January to let Huawei build some of the country’s non-critical 5G infrastructure—going against Donald Trump’s America’s wishes—the government’s position today is now once again under scrutiny. Some rebel members of Johnson’s own Conservative Party want a harder stance on China, which means rethinking the two countries’ economic ties, including Britain’s policy on Huawei¹³; China’s alleged dishonesty in reporting Covid-19 cases may support the argument made by some Western politicians that Chinese firms and officials are simply untrustworthy, and cannot hold the keys to strategic industries such as telecommunications. Even the UK’s foreign minister, Dominic Raab, said business would not resume “as usual” after the pandemic¹⁴,  implying a loss of trust and highlighting a weakening relationship. Mounting worries of outsized economic influence, a loss of credibility in reporting information of the pandemic, and calls for national economic independence threaten China’s geopolitical strategy—its plan to economically and politically intertwine the world even more with Beijing through the Belt and Road Initiative. Just as the country might have stepped in to fill the large gap in world leadership left by America’s bungled response to the pandemic, Covid-19 casts significant doubts on whether China has the capacity—or even deserves—to assume the mantle.

Finally, and most importantly, the Covid-19 pandemic undermines China’s one-party, state-capitalist social model. China’s social contract sacrifices some individual freedoms common in Western countries, such as the freedom of assembly, in exchange for durable economic growth; according to the country’s rhetoric, only Chinese authoritarianism is capable of mobilizing resources efficiently enough to provide such rigorous progress. In theory, as long as Chinese citizens get richer, and as long as they do not push for liberal democracy, the system works and everyone is content. When China feels the people are not holding up their end of the bargain, it intervenes; on April 15, the government arrested fifteen of Hong Kong’s most famous democracy proponents for organizing dissent¹⁴. So far, nothing new: China has been cracking down on Hong Kong’s protesters since demonstrations began in June of 2019, with over 7000 arrests.¹⁴ And no one has forgotten what happened in Tiananmen Square in 1989, not least the Chinese.

But with Covid-19’s disastrous effect on China’s economy, its social contract might come under renegotiation in another way: people may wonder if the governing Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is honoring its agreement to provide prosperity in exchange for them relinquishing their political liberties. Chinese citizens benefited from extraordinary growth that outshined that of the United States and Europe for the last half-century; they enjoyed an incredible average year-on-year increase in GDP of 10% since 1978, according to the World Bank¹⁵. But they also lack certain rights enjoyed by Americans and Europeans. Thus, they may come to reconsider their bargain with the government if it fails to deliver on the promised economic growth. The Chinese economy powered through nearly fifty years of crises—including the SARS epidemic and the Great Recession—but crumbled at the feet of the pandemic. Indeed, the economy shrank by 6.8% compared to last year according to official statistics and urban unemployment could reach 10% this year, according to The Economist Intelligence Unit¹⁹—and that figure leaves out the millions of unemployed migrants stuck in their rural villages. What is more, the road to China’s economic recovery looks shaky. 

As mentioned previously in this article, China cannot pursue the same stimulus methods of rich Western countries and will face a hard time recovering for multiple reasons. First, because it already substantially subsidizes its industry, it is unclear how much China can expand aid to companies to reignite production; the low marginal effect of more state spending means this may not yield much of an increase in supply. Furthermore, since business relies so heavily on the government, the lack of subsidies because of limited means might cost some corporations their livelihoods. For instance, Chang’an automobile, a Chinese car manufacturer, received Rmb2.87bn in state subsidies in 2018—more than its profit of Rmb680m¹⁸. So far, the government has only engaged in relatively modest spending, rolling out a $564bn stimulus package—nothing compared to America’s $2.4tn cannon or even Germany’s $810bn spending plan²⁰. (Keep in mind Germany is also a much smaller economy, with only around $3.9tn in GDP compared to China’s $13tn). It may be a sign that the state does not have the means to do more. Without increased government sponsorship to offset the pandemic’s toll on commerce, businesses such as Chang’an—which already rely enormously on state aid—may not survive, increasing unemployment and reducing production.

Second, most American and European stimulus is carried out through loans by a strong financial sector. However, China’s financial sector deals with a nation crippled by debt (310% of GDP) and has more than quadrupled in size since the Great Recession¹⁵. It will have a hard time amassing the capital necessary to make extensive loans to companies, and the government might not have the money to step in considering the industry’s massive increase in size compared to the last downturn. Third, the country must reckon with a weakening in global demand and trade. As an export-centered economy (exports comprised almost 20% of China’s GDP in 2018¹⁶), the slump in demand abroad and barriers to trade amid the pandemic will make it harder for China to sell its goods, strangling production. Further, since Chinese citizens still face restrictions at home, it is unlikely that domestic demand can compensate for the decrease in outside demand. Finally, China lacks a proper, national welfare estate. Its safety-net is fragmented and scattered across the country’s various counties, each with their own schemes. Migrants from rural areas often do not receive benefits when they move to cities¹⁷, leaving millions to survive the pandemic’s downturn with just their (often meager) savings. Without government help—and barred from working due to social-distancing measures—some may not survive, exacerbating social tensions.

Recessions are useful in demonstrating the flaws in a nation’s economic system. This one is no different. The pandemic and the ensuing economic crisis expose inherent flaws in the Chinese state-capitalist economy: its overdependence on government help, the desperate state of its financials, and its lack of a robust welfare system. Without adequate government aid, businesses in China may never recuperate; and the other danger is that the country’s financial sector is not capable of financing lavish subsidies in such times of high debt. Plus, with global demand taking a turn for the worse as the pandemic causes more and more countries to lock down, choking consumer spending, the government is left with an even larger burden to bear. Western countries will probably have it easier: they do not subsidize their industries nearly as much as China, meaning they have more room to help businesses. They also benefit from strong financial systems, which are now regulated to have enough capital on hand in times of crisis. And when the going gets tough, at least the most vulnerable citizens get cash transfers, unemployment benefits, or other forms of relief to ease some of the pain. But China does not have such privileges—and it has a difficult social contract to uphold, one with a hard trade-off between liberty and economic growth. Today, in the face of the pandemic, the one advantage of the Chinese social model over the West’s, its reliable economic growth, comes under question, paving the way for perhaps a more moderate compromise between the rights of the people and the reach of China’s one-party state. Already social unrest is high, with tensions still searing in Hong Kong and recent protests in the southern city of Guangzhou demanding rent reductions.¹⁹ Though the CCP will stay, if economic growth does not pick up after Covid-19—and as this article shows, it probably will not to the same extent as before—then the party might be forced to settle for a more moderate leader, and revise some terms of its social contract. 

China will try to exploit the US and Europe’s disarray in the face of the pandemic. It will paint itself as a model nation that effectively managed Covid-19 and its consequences; in fact, today it tries to boost its soft-power with calculated aid shipments to vulnerable countries, so-called “mask-diplomacy.” But overall, the pandemic engenders losses for the entire globe—not just the West. China will therefore emerge weaker in the post-virus world: its financial capabilities strained, its geopolitical plans disrupted, and its political credibility exhausted. Most of all, Covid-19 unveiled the real China hidden behind the curtains; it demonstrated to both audiences at home and abroad its economic vulnerabilities and the financial limits of its state. Perhaps China will reorganize itself and legislate a larger stimulus package to fight off the recession. Perhaps it will manage to salvage the world’s trust and continue with its geopolitical ambitions. And perhaps the Chinese people will not use their stronger bargaining power to negotiate a more liberal social contract. International politics is filled with uncertainty, and one cannot predict today the makeup of the post-pandemic world. One thing is certain, though: for all its damage to the West, the Covid-19 crisis does not benefit China. It remains to be seen what America and its allies will make of this.

Works Cited:
1) Coronavirus Death Toll.” Worldometer. Accessed April 24, 2020.

https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/coronavirus-death-toll/

2) “Congress puts aside its habitual dysfunction and responds to covid-19.” The Economist, March 26, 2020.

https://www.economist.com/united-states/2020/03/26/congress-puts-aside-its-habitual-dysfunction-and-responds-to-covid-19

3) Werner, Erica. “House passes $484 billion bill with money for small businesses, hospitals and testing to battle coronavirus.” Washington Post, April 23, 2020.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/us-policy/2020/04/23/congress-coronavirus-small-business/

4) “China Coronavirus Cases.” Worldometer. Accessed April 24, 2020.

https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/country/china/

5) Richter, Felix. “China Is the World’s Manufacturing Superpower.” Statista, February 18, 2020.

https://www.statista.com/chart/20858/top-10-countries-by-share-of-global-manufacturing-output/

7) Romei, Valentina. “Global trade contracts as coronavirus hits world economy.” Financial Times, April 24, 2020.

https://www.ft.com/content/db3427f5-5394-4661-8e52-6447fd3d9ae9

8) Brasher, Keith. “China’s Economy Shrinks, Ending a Nearly Half-Century of Growth.” New York Times, April 16, 2020.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/16/business/china-coronavirus-economy.html?auth=login-email&login=email

9) Wilson, Elliot. “Coronavirus crisis: China steps back from stimulus.” Euromoney, April 09, 2020.

https://www.euromoney.com/article/b1l3yc7b9h2mkr/coronavirus-crisis-china-steps-back-from-stimulus

10) Cerulus, Laurens. “Coronavirus forces Europe to confront China dependency.” Politico Europe, March 03, 2020.

https://www.politico.eu/article/coronavirus-emboldens-europes-supply-chain-security-hawks/

11) Thompson, Loren. “Coronavirus highlights US strategic vulnerabilities spawned by over-reliance on China.” Forbes, March 30, 2020.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/lorenthompson/2020/03/30/coronavirus-highlights-us-strategic-vulnerabilities-spawned-by-over-reliance-on-china/#41bd564e69a1

12) Davidson Helen; Beaumont, Peter. “China coronavirus cases may have been four times official figure, says study.” The Guardian, April 23, 2020.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/23/china-coronavirus-cases-might-have-been-four-times-official-figure-says-study

13) Donaldson, Kitty; Bloomberg. “The U.K. may not let Trump-target Huawei build part of its 5G network after all.” Fortune, April 17, 2020.

https://fortune.com/2020/04/17/uk-boris-johnson-trump-huawei-5g-network/

14) “China moves to squeeze Hong Kong’s freedoms.” The Economist, April 23, 2020.

https://www.economist.com/china/2020/04/23/china-moves-to-squeeze-hong-kongs-freedoms

15) “The World Bank In China.” World Bank Group, updated April 23, 2020.

https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/china/overview

16) “Exports of goods and services (% of GDP).” World Bank Group. Visited April 28, 2020.

https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.EXP.GNFS.ZS

17) “China’s welfare system: difficult, inflexible and blatantly unfair?” The Guardian, April 23, 2013.

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2013/apr/23/china-welfare-system-inflexible-unfair

18) Hancock, Tom; Jia, Yizhen. “China paid record $22bn in corporate subsidies in 2018.” Financial Times, May 27, 2019.

https://www.ft.com/content/e2916586-8048-11e9-b592-5fe435b57a3b

19) “Millions of Chinese students brace themselves for joblessness.” The Economist, May 2, 2020. 

https://www.economist.com/china/2020/05/02/millions-of-chinese-students-brace-themselves-for-joblessness

20) Nienaber, Michael; Stonestreet, John. “Factbox: Germany’s anti-coronavirus stimulus package.” Reuters, March 25, 2020.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-health-coronavirus-germany-measures-f/factbox-germanys-anti-coronavirus-stimulus-package-idUSKBN21C26Y

Inequality has taking center stage in the public policy debate. Just recently, at the World Economic Forum meeting in Davos, Switzerland, income inequality was one of the debated issues. 2020 Democrats have all pledged to reduce inequality, all while the right derides the “party of Davos,” the so-called global financial elite. In the spirit of the times, I have decided to compile my own set of data on inequality, specifically, to study a nation’s degree of income inequality in relation to the strength of their liberal democracy.

Before undertaking the study, I hypothesized that as a country’s level of democracy increases, its income inequality decreases. In theory, liberal democracy guarantees a certain degree of equality to its citizens, which then translates into fewer financial imbalances. For example, a liberal democracy protects civil rights and minorities; an employer cannot discriminate against workers based on race, gender, sexual orientation, or age. Thus, in a liberal democracy income inequality between workers is less pronounced than in authoritarian regimes where certain employees receive benefits while others do not. Liberal democracies also protect employees’ right to assemble and allow them to engage in collective bargaining with employers for fairer wages. They also require the rule of law, which curbs income inequality; the state cannot arbitrarily shut down businesses that go against its political interests (e.g. a company whose CEO supports the opposition party), nor can it favor cronies as the law safeguards the free market. All these measures enforce civic equality, which then induces lower income disparities. 

To test my hypothesis I ran a comparison between a country’s Democracy Index—a representation of a country’s level of liberal democracy, compiled by The Economist Intelligence Unit—and its Gini Coefficient, a common measurement of income inequality. The Democracy Index takes five elements of a country’s political system into account: electoral process and pluralism, the functioning of government, democratic political culture and civil liberties. A country scoring high on these sections has a high degree of liberal democracy; the judiciary is free of political interests, civil rights are respected, and government functions properly and transparently. A country’s Gini Coefficient represents the difference between perfect equality (i.e. 10% of people own 10% of the wealth; 90% of people own 90% of the wealth, etc…) and the level of equality of a given country. The larger the gap—that is, the closest the Gini Coefficient is to 1—the higher the inequality. If my hypothesis were to be proved correct, the higher a country’s Democracy Index the lower its Gini Coefficient.

I took the Democracy Index data from Gapminder [1] and the Gini coefficients from the World Inequality Database [2]. The Democracy Index only dates back to 2006, and some countries did not have Gini Coefficients in my dataset, so I ended up with 1487 observations between 2006 and 2017 for 127 countries. Then, I ran a regression on R to compare the two indexes, with my other variables being the country and the year effects. I created the following model:

Since my model is a comparison between the Democracy Index and the Gini Coefficient, I did not report year and country effects in my table. I ran my model in two different ways. In the first, I left missing Gini Coefficient values untreated. In the second, I treated missing Gini Coefficients: I assumed that unreported data represented a continuation of the previous year’s data (e.g. if Gini was 0.33 in 2006 and no Gini was reported for 2007, I presumed Gini stayed at 0.33). The results are reported in the following table:  

	Without N/A Treatment
	Coefficients	p-values
Intercept	33.72	0.00%
Democracy Index	-0.06	2.40%
Adjusted R-squared	96%
	With N/A Treatment
Intercept	38.15	0.00%
Democracy Index	-0.13	0.00%
Adjusted R-squared	95%

As the table demonstrates, in both cases the coefficient of the Democracy Index is negative and statistically significant (with a p-value of 2.40% without treatment and 0.00% with treatment). As the Democracy Index of a country grows, its Gini Coefficient falls.  

The results from the regression model strongly support my hypothesis: as a country’s degree of liberal democracy increases, income inequality diminishes. The independent rule of law, transparent government, protection of civil liberties, and lack of cronyism seem to reduce income disparities. Policymakers should take note: perhaps the best way to tackle inequality is to strengthen our democracies.

Links:

[1] https://www.gapminder.org/data/documentation/democracy-index/

[2] https://wid.world/news-article/gini-coefficients-available/