Democracy Falls

Jonathan Sumption’s excellent Reith lecture this year just about summed it up:

"There is already plenty of gloomy speculation about how long democracy can last against an adverse economic background without my adding to it. Prophets are usually wrong, but one thing I will prophesy; we will not recognise the end of democracy when it comes, if it does. Advanced democracies are not overthrown, there are no tanks on the street, no sudden catastrophes, no brash dictators or braying mobs, instead, their institutions are imperceptibly drained of everything that once made them democratic. The labels will still be there, but they will no longer describe the contents, the facade will still stand, but there will be nothing behind it, the rhetoric of democracy will be unchanged, but it will be meaningless - and the fault will be ours."

This poem is about that.

Democracy Falls

The words are there, but emptied out
Of all substance, silently, with no shout,
But that of democracy, like dead wood
Inside a hollow trunk, the tree no good
Despite all appearances. Who can tell
How this came about, good intentions
Perverted, and power came at last?
And he could now expel, and outcast
The best, if they stood up to fight;
So easily comes arrogance, such blight!
Democracy: :a derelict building in decay,
The roof leaking, and no place to stay;
Free for all: but it is all an utter sham:
An idol, to worship, bow down, obey;
Stifle conscience lest it should have sway,
And cross the Rubicon, no going back now;
Dissolve the Senate, ignore the Tao:
But beware the Ides of March: on that day:
The Shades of Things to Come will slay