Introduction

Democracy is hailed as humanity’s greatest achievement. For decades, I found myself agreeing with Winston Churchill’s famous words: “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried.” But as I look at the world today, I wonder—was Churchill wrong?

Modern democracies, once the driving force behind progress, seem to have stagnated. The foundations laid by Athens—the birthplace of democracy—now feel like relics we venerate but fail to build upon. Is democracy truly the endpoint of political evolution, or have we misunderstood its purpose entirely?

The Greek Beginning: Athenian Brilliance and Blindness

Democracy is one of humanity’s most ingenious inventions, a system that injected unparalleled energy into the state of Athens. It created an environment where citizens flourished as philosophers, mathematicians, dramatists, and scientists, laying the foundation for Western civilization for over 2,500 years. The Athenians, however, were not blind to democracy’s imperfections. They understood its limitations and attempted systemic changes to advance beyond it.

Yet, they failed. Why? Because their society was paralyzed by arrogance. The Athenians, bursting with pride in their moral and intellectual superiority, resisted change. Criticism of democracy was tantamount to heresy, as exemplified by the trial of Socrates. Their disdain for "half-barbarians," like the Macedonians, blinded them to the inevitable: Athens’ fall. After Alexander the Great, Athens’ democratic principles disappeared. Even those who claimed to emulate Athens drew inspiration from republican Rome, with its imperial "greatness," rather than the democratic ideals of the polis.

The Modern Paradox: Democracy as a Sprint, Not a Marathon

The pre-war world revealed democracy’s greatest danger: its own contradictions. Mussolini and Hitler rose to power through democratic systems, wielding popular support and fear to dismantle the very freedoms democracy was meant to protect. Even Stalin, though ruling through overt dictatorship, relied on mass mobilization and propaganda to sustain his regime. World War II did not pit democracy against authoritarianism in a simple dichotomy—it was a collision of systems, each deeply flawed in its own way.

After the war, political leaders seemed to recognize that democracy alone was insufficient. Liberalism became the missing ingredient, emphasizing individual rights, free markets, and the rule of law. This marriage of liberalism and democracy created the oxygen boost that propelled societies forward, fueling extraordinary technological, economic, and cultural advances. Yet, democracy’s deeper contradictions were never resolved.

Today, we see the consequences. Liberal democracy, once the engine of progress, now appears stagnant. Polarization, populism, and disillusionment plague modern democracies. The sprint is over, and the deeper problems of democracy remain. If we do not recognize these contradictions and evolve beyond them, we risk repeating the mistakes of the past.

The Risk of Complacency: A Retreat to Old Habits

The post-war world moved, however haltingly, toward a vision of global inclusivity and interconnectedness. The horrors of World War II forced many nations to confront the unprofitability of isolationism, imperialism, and expansionism. Painfully but deliberately, the world laid the foundations of a new globalized order, one that aspired—however imperfectly—to be more inclusive and cooperative.

Yet, as time passed, the material and technological successes of the post-war era eroded the memory of those moments that forced us to change. Like the Athenians, we became preoccupied with fixing our profits rather than evolving our systems. But what could not be fixed globally was instead fixed locally. Nations, frustrated with the challenges of globalization, turned inward. This retreat toward isolationism, imperialism, and expansionism marks not progress but a reversion to old habits.

In doing so, we have shifted away from the Athenian principles of creativity and openness and instead embraced the Roman model of control and consolidation. Democracies, once engines of innovation, now mimic the rigidity and self-interest of empires. The global order has fractured, and with it, the very ideals that once propelled liberal democracy to its peak.

The Call to Reflect: Avoiding Philippides’ Fate

Therefore, Sir Winston, you are mistaken. Democracy isn’t the worst thing we’ve conceived, but rather one of the finest solutions in human history. The flaw lies not in democracy itself but in our misinterpretation of its purpose. It is a tool to accelerate progress, not an endpoint. If we fail to recognize this, we risk the fate of those who clung to outdated systems. Like Philippides, who ran joyously from Marathon to Athens only to collapse from exhaustion, we too may be remembered as an echo of the past, celebrated for our achievements but mourned for our inability to endure.

But unlike Philippides, we have not yet said our last words—we have not yet cried, “We win!” Perhaps it’s time to stop, to think, and to ask ourselves whether we’ve truly won at all. Instead of running blindly toward collapse, we still have a chance to pause, reflect, and chart a new course—if only we recognize the limits of the tools we’ve cherished.