For nearly half a century, Western democracies have lived in the sweet illusion of the end of history. Of course, the world was not without conflicts and crises, but the dominant narrative remained one of progress. Politics promised solutions, technology offered answers, growth outlined a horizon. The future was not a source of anxiety, it was desirable. This cycle has closed.
Since the beginning of the 21st century, the West has experienced a brutal return to history. Not the school story, linear and reassuring, but the tragic story, the one which imposes forced choices, dilemmas without a perfect outcome, decisions where every option has its share of losses. September 11, 2001 opened the sequence. The attacks that struck Europethe financial crisis of 2008, the resurgence of high-intensity war on the European continent, tensions in the Middle East, rivalries between powers, migratory pressures, climatic or technological challenges: the political agenda is now dictated by the shock of reality.
A permanent climate of uncertainty
Public discourse is transformed. Where the promise dominated, it is now risk management that is required. Where we spoke of emancipation, we speak of protection. Where we promised a better tomorrow, we strive to avoid the worst. This shift is not just a rhetorical inflection; it profoundly modifies the collective psychology of democracies.
Even those in charge traditionally attached to the idea of progress find themselves caught up in this climate of uncertainty. Calls for innovation and openness – notably made by Emmanuel Macron in 2017 – have gradually given way to discourses on rearmament, sovereignty, lucidity in the face of power relations. It is not so much a denial as an adaptation to a less cooperative, more conflictual, more unstable world. Politics becomes again what it often was in history: the art of choosing between relative evils rather than the promise of absolute goods.
This mutation mechanically feeds the forces of rupture. When the future ceases to be seen as a promise, the temptation grows to look for those responsible, then those guilty. Populist groups thrive on this diffuse anxiety: they offer stories in a world that has become complex, clear-cut solutions to insoluble problems. The phenomenon is neither unique to France nor unprecedented. It almost always accompanies periods of historical transition.
In this regard, our era presents disturbing echoes with other moments of change. Europe in the 1930s, marked by the economic crisis, distrust of elites and the rise of extremes, was already seeing the idea take hold that liberal democracies were too weak to protect people. Closer to us, the 1970s, shaken by the oil crises, the end of the Thirty Glorious Years and the fear of downgrading, profoundly shook confidence in continuous progress. Even further, the end of the Roman Republic illustrates how the combination of external crises, internal inequalities and loss of confidence in institutions can lead citizens to prefer authority to the balance of power.
A political generation trained in the idea that every problem had a technical solution must relearn how to think in depth about the major issues
History never repeats itself exactly, but it often rhymes. Each era believes it is experiencing an unprecedented situation; few agree to recognize the recurring mechanisms that span the centuries. The conjunction of economic, cultural and geopolitical crises, the erosion of confidence in elites, the search for providential men or women: these dynamics are old. They do not condemn democracies, but they put them to the test.
This is where the real challenge for our leaders arises. A political generation trained in the idea that every problem had a technical solution must relearn how to think in depth about the major issues. Governing, in a tragic world, sometimes consists of choosing the lesser evil or making unpopular decisions. Liberal democracy cannot survive if it promises the impossible. It can only last if it finds the language of truth. The risk, otherwise, is twofold: on the one hand, the authoritarian temptation in the name of efficiency; on the other, impotence in the name of the purity of principles. Between these two pitfalls, a narrow path exists.
The great challenge of the years to come will perhaps be summed up in a simple formula: preserving our freedoms without renouncing our power. Protect our borders without betraying our values. Defend our model without giving in to authoritarianism. This requires moving away from both naivety and cynicism, reconnecting with a strategic culture, but also with lucid confidence in what is precious about our democracies.
Tragedy is not the end of politics; it is the most demanding condition. The nations that go through history are not those that ignore it, but those that agree to look it in the face. At a time when empires are waking up and certainties are wavering, France and Europe need less promises than maturity. The tragedy is back; it is up to us to prove that democracy can still stand up to it.
