In recent years, a familiar narrative has resurfaced across the political landscape of countries such as Pakistan, Myanmar and several nations in Africa and South America. It suggests that the democracy era has run its course and the world now awaits an imminent “new system.” A number of analysts, including some in Pakistan, are insisting that democratic governance has failed, that the “heyday of democracy” is over and that an alternative model—curiously undefined—is on the horizon. This rhetoric can be compelling, even seductive, in societies fatigued by dysfunctional governments, elite capture and periodic political breakdowns. Yet, upon close examination, the argument that democracy has become obsolete appears less a diagnosis of systemic failure and more an indictment of the conditions under which democracy has been prevented from functioning.

As John Dunn reminds us, “Democracy does not fail; it is failed.” His observation resonates sharply in contexts where the democratic project has been intermittently suffocated rather than nurtured. The first flaw in the “post-democracy” thesis is conceptual: its proponents rarely articulate what this supposed new system entails. If democracy has failed, what comes next? Technocracy? Hybrid rule? Benevolent authoritarianism? A new ideological architecture altogether? The vagueness is telling. Critics struggle to define an alternative because the shortcomings they attribute to democracy do not arise from democratic ideals, but from their chronic distortion by non-democratic actors and entrenched economic powers.

In countries like Pakistan, Bangladesh and Myanmar, and across parts of Africa and South America, democracy has seldom been given uninterrupted political space. Periods of civilian rule have been punctuated by military interventions, institutional sabotage, constitutional manipulation and the systematic weakening of representative bodies. Democracy is expected to deliver stability, social development and welfare. It has often been denied the autonomy required to do so. What is often described as “democratic failure” is, in fact, the failure to allow democracy to exist in its substantive form. As Amartya Sen argues, “Democracy is a demanding system, and not just in the sense of needing the support of institutions... Democracy requires vigilance and activism.” It cannot function when continuously constrained by forces that mistrust or fear its outcomes.

History underscores this pattern. The crises of the 1930s, marked by fascism, and the upheavals of the 1960s, driven by decolonisation and ideological realignments, posed significant threats to democratic governance. Yet democracies persisted—not because they were flawless, but because, as Robert Dahl emphasised, democratic systems possess “a remarkable capacity for self-correction.” Their resilience lies in their openness to contestation, accountability mechanisms and the ability to adjust to social and economic change.

The contemporary crisis facing democratic governance is less ideological and more structural. Across the world—whether in the United States, Israel, India or Brazil—democracies have been strained not by inherent flaws but by the widening socio-economic disparities produced by unchecked capitalism. The rich grow richer, the marginalised remain excluded and political participation becomes a tool for the preservation of elite interests. This is the environment in which populist and authoritarian-leaning figures like Donald Trump, Benjamin Netanyahu and Narendra Modi rise. Their ascent reflects societies grappling with inequality, fear, identity anxieties and the consequences of neoliberal policy failures. Their presence also affirms that democracy, even in distress, still enables openness, competition and resistance. As Yascha Mounk points out, “Liberal democracy is facing its greatest crisis since World War II, but it is far from defeated.” Such moments of democratic strain are cyclical, not terminal.

The challenge is not to replace democracy, but to give it the chance it has always been denied. Only then can it demonstrate —as it has in Scandinavia and elsewhere—that it remains the most humane, adaptable and accountable system of governance yet imagined.

In fragile democracies, the central task is not to abandon democratic principles but to reinforce them by establishing civilian supremacy. Where civilian authority is diminished, electoral outcomes are manipulated and constitutional frameworks are overridden, democracy becomes little more than a hollow structure. But civilian supremacy alone is insufficient. Democracy must also be wrested away from capitalist and elite domination. In societies where wealth dictates political power, democratic choice becomes symbolic. For democracy to bear fruit, it must operate within an egalitarian economic environment and alongside strong institutions and empowered citizenry. Another factor that has stunted the growth of democracy is the persistence of neo-imperialist tendencies, particularly visible in the strategic nexus between the United States and Israel. This partnership, often operating through regional alliances, has relied on avaricious and self-serving rulers who enable external influence and suppress popular aspirations.

The experience of several Middle Eastern states—effectively reduced to playing second fiddle to neo-imperial designs—demonstrates how external power structures, combined with compliant domestic elites, can subvert democratic development and entrench authoritarian governance. Among these countries Turkey is the only functional democracy.

Some analysts in Pakistan propose alternative models—most commonly the Chinese or Singaporean systems—as desirable replacements for democracy. These arguments fail to recognise that political models are not plug-and-play mechanisms. As Francis Fukuyama observes, “Institutions are deeply embedded in the societies in which they operate, and cannot be easily transplanted.” The Chinese model rests on a unique historical trajectory of centralised imperial authority, Confucian bureaucratic tradition and rapid industrialisation under party control.

Singapore’s technocratic governance derives from its city-state scale, cultural homogeny and strategic geopolitical position—conditions that cannot be replicated in sprawling, ethnically diverseand politically contested states like Pakistan, Myanmar or most African nations. Attempts to mimic these systems ignore socio-cultural complexities and risk exacerbating authoritarian tendencies without achieving developmental benefits. Importing such models to vastly different contexts risks institutional dissonance rather than stability.

If evidence of democratic success is needed, the Scandinavian experience provides it. Nations such as Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Finland demonstrate how democracy can flourish when grounded in a social contract that prioritises equality, welfare and civilian authority. These societies reflect what Carole Pateman calls participatory democracy—an environment where citizens not only vote but engage meaningfully in civic life. Here, democracy has produced equitable development, civic trust, and political cultures resistant to authoritarian temptations.

The claim that democracy is nearing its end is a misreading of contemporary stresses. Democracy is not dying; it is being tested. In many parts of the world, it is being undermined by those who fear its capacity to redistribute power and challenge entrenched privilege. What these regions require is not a new, undefined governance model but the fulfillment of democracy’s unachieved promise: civilian supremacy, social development, economic justice and institutional integrity.

Democracy may be in crisis, but it is not a crisis of its own making. The real crisis is the refusal to allow democracy to function as intended. The challenge for countries like Pakistan is not to replace democracy, but to finally give it the chance it has always been denied. Only then can it demonstrate—as it has in Scandinavia and elsewhere—that it remains the most humane, adaptable and accountable system of governance yet imagined.

The writer is a professor in the Faculty of Liberal Arts at the Beaconhouse National University, Lahore.