Sinking Democracy, One Shot at a Time
A pool table, a pint, and a debate on democracy’s demise. We played the game, but the real contest? Autocrats stacking the deck.
The morning air was crisp, the golden hue of sunlight spilling over the cobblestone streets of London as we emerged from our editorial meeting. It had been a productive session, one fuelled by ambition and caffeine, where the conversation had revolved around the expansion of our media project its reach, its appeal, its purpose. The topic had been heavy, dense with the weight of possibilities, but as we stepped outside, the lightness of the day invited a change in pace.
Michael and I set off on foot, our minds still brimming with the morning's discussions, but as our bodies moved through the city, our thoughts too began to shift. Politics had a way of creeping into every conversation between us. It was inevitable. As we made our way toward a nearby pub, we meandered into the well-trodden debate of democracy versus autocracy a discussion that, as always, was less about abstract concepts and more about the tangible reality of power and its abuses.
Inside the pub, the clack of billiard balls punctuated our sentences as we took turns at the pool table. "Democracy isn't appealing anymore," Michael said, eyeing his next shot. "Not because it's fundamentally flawed, but because it's been hijacked by the nasties. The vested interests. They've turned it into a farce."
"And in the process," I added, leaning against my cue, "they've smuggled autocracy in through the back door. Worse yet, they've sold it as democracy."
Michael lined up his shot but hesitated, looking up. "That's the thing, isn't it? People don't realise that democracy isn't just about voting. It's about power being distributed, about checks and balances. But what happens when those checks get eroded? When one guy, or one small group, consolidates power? That’s not democracy anymore. That’s autocracy in disguise."
The ball clicked into the pocket. I nodded. "Exactly. And people are angry. They see the system failing them, but they don’t have the language to describe what’s really happening. So they just call it all corrupt, all broken. And then some strongman comes along and says, 'See? Democracy has failed you. Trust me instead.' And the worst part? They're not wrong about the failure."
Michael laughed dryly, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, but they're definitely wrong about the solution. The whole premise of democracy was that no one person should ever have too much power. But here we are, letting people gather it up piece by piece."
The game continued, but the conversation deepened. We debated Netanyahu, Trump, Macron, and the corporatization of democracy. We talked about Israel, Palestine, and the way states of emergency were used as convenient excuses to bypass democratic norms. "All autocrats use emergencies to assume power," Michael said, chalking his cue. "They declare a crisis and suddenly the rules don’t apply. And by the time the crisis is over? So is democracy."
"That’s the thing," I said. "Netanyahu, for example, isn’t just playing politics. He’s actively dismantling the system. The judicial reforms he pushed last year? They strip the Supreme Court of the power to deem government actions 'unreasonable.' That’s the first step to unchecked authority."
Michael leaned in.
"Exactly. If you can’t be checked, you can’t be stopped. And if you can’t be stopped, you’re not a democratic leader anymore. You’re an autocrat."
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "The problem isn’t democracy. The problem is that people have been lulled into thinking it’s something you set and forget. A democracy needs work. It needs active participation. But we let the wrong people fill the vacuum, and now look where we are."
Michael sighed, leaning on the table. "And the left isn’t helping. They’re so busy calling Trump and the far-right fascists that they don’t realize the real fight isn’t against fascism, it’s against autocracy. You can have a fascist democracy. That’s not the problem. The problem is when democracy stops being democratic. When power stops shifting."
"Exactly," I said. "The real metric isn’t ideology, it’s power. Who has it, and can they be removed? Because if they can’t be removed, if the people can’t change their minds and vote them out, then it doesn’t matter if they’re left or right. It’s autocracy."
The game ended, but the discussion continued. We circled back to the media, our original topic. "It’s the same thing with news," Michael said. "People think they’re getting the truth, but they’re just getting different flavors of the same controlled narrative. The New York Times, the BBC, Al Jazeera—they’re all state media in one way or another. They’re all serving a vested interest."
I nodded. "That’s why independent media is so important. But even then, the fight isn’t just about reporting the news. It’s about making sure democracy remains functional. That people understand power. Otherwise, we’re just screaming into the void."
Michael stretched, looking toward the window where the afternoon light had begun to wane. "So how do we do it? How do we make people care?"
I thought for a moment. "We start by making them realize they’ve already lost something. And that it’s worth fighting to get it back."
Michael sat back, nodding slowly. "The truth is, we’ve already let corporations buy our democracy. That’s why people don’t trust the system anymore. And that’s why the Trumps and Netanyahus of the world get to keep pushing the line further. Because they’re tapping into a real grievance. People know something’s wrong, but they’re looking in the wrong places."
"And the left is failing them," I added. "Because instead of acknowledging the corruption that allowed this to happen, they pretend democracy is still fully functional. It’s not. We let the moneyed interests take over. And now the reactionaries are hijacking that discontent for their own gain."
Michael grinned wryly. "So our job is to bring democracy back. For real. Not just as a brand, but as a system that works for people."
I raised my glass. "To democracy. The real kind."
He clinked his glass against mine. "The fight starts now."
Outside, the world carried on, oblivious. But we knew that the stakes had never been higher.
