The Year Democracy Is Tested: Why 2026 could become a turning point for American democracy
A year into the Trump administration, the architecture of American democracy shows signs of deliberate weakening. Media outlets face systematic pressure. The Department of Justice has become a tool for targeting political opponents. Legal residents are detained and deported without due process. Military pageantry and self-glorifying monuments mirror the aesthetics of authoritarian regimes worldwide.
President Trump’s nationally televised address on December 17, 2025 reinforced these trends rather than dispelling them. Framed as a defense of “law and order,” the speech relied heavily on the language of internal enemies, crisis, and national emergency—hallmarks of authoritarian consolidation. Rather than distinguishing between peaceful dissent and criminal activity, the address collapsed the two, portraying protest itself as a threat to the state.
The lower courts and upcoming elections remain bulwarks against democratic collapse—for now. Within a year, both could be compromised.
Border enforcement has morphed into a mechanism for political intimidation. National Guard and military units patrol Democratic strongholds: Los Angeles, Portland, Chicago. Left-leaning organizations have been designated domestic terrorist groups—a modern enemies list, legally codified. Republican-led states face pressure to gerrymander districts before 2026; Democrats respond in kind, accelerating a redistricting arms race that threatens to predetermine electoral outcomes before voters ever reach the polls.
The President’s remarks signaled that this approach is not temporary. By repeatedly invoking the need for “extraordinary measures” and praising the expanded domestic role of security forces, the address normalized a vision of governance in which civilian politics increasingly yields to coercive power.
The specter of electoral violence compounds these structural threats. Fear, not law, may suppress turnout. The Electoral College already distances voters from presidential selection; partisan gerrymandering now threatens to hollow out congressional and state elections entirely.
Consider the unthinkable: elections could be postponed. While protests in Chicago, Los Angeles, and Portland remain peaceful—as do the “No Kings” demonstrations—Republican leaders persistently label participants as “terrorists.” History teaches that authoritarian leaders invoke emergencies to justify extraordinary measures. Military “security” at polling places could effectively militarize the electoral process. Though unlikely, this possibility reveals how quickly democratic norms collapse once institutional guardrails fail.
The December 17, 2025 address subtly advanced this logic. By suggesting that unrest—real or anticipated—may require decisive executive action, the President laid rhetorical groundwork for future claims that normal democratic processes cannot safely proceed.
The authoritarian playbook is predictable. Leaders who gain power through legitimate elections follow a well-worn path.
Algeria’s Bouteflika won democratically in 1999 with 74% support. Twenty years later, facing protests against his fifth-term bid, he canceled elections indefinitely. Tunisia’s Saied suspended parliament in 2021 and repeatedly postponed elections; when finally held, turnout barely reached 11%. Uganda’s Museveni has delayed local elections for two decades, citing various emergencies. Serbia’s Milošević pioneered the modern template—canceling unfavorable results, forcing re-runs, and refusing to recognize opposition victories when his party lost local elections in 1996.
More sophisticated authoritarians maintain electoral schedules while gutting electoral integrity. Turkey’s Erdoğan forced Istanbul to re-vote when his party lost. Hungary’s Orbán holds punctual elections with predetermined outcomes. Nicaragua’s Ortega imprisoned opposition candidates while keeping election dates. El Salvador’s Bukele suspends civil liberties through perpetual emergencies while maintaining electoral theater.
The pattern is unmistakable: modern authoritarians prefer rigged elections to canceled ones. Postponement becomes necessary only when facing existential threats—mass protests, power consolidation crises, or active conflicts. Leaders who begin with genuine popularity gradually view themselves as indispensable. They fear prosecution upon leaving office.
In the United States, a strong showing by the Democrats in 2026 could reopen the possibility of another impeachment proceeding against President Trump. This prospect could incentivize further manipulation of electoral and legal processes, creating a dangerous feedback loop where fear of accountability drives deeper authoritarian measures.
President Trump’s December 17, 2025 address hinted at precisely this dynamic. By casting opposition victories not as legitimate democratic outcomes but as threats to national stability, the President implicitly questioned the legitimacy of electoral accountability itself.
Scholars term this gradual erosion “competitive authoritarianism”—democracy in form but not function. The sequence is consistent: capture institutions, manipulate constitutions, restrict media, harass opposition, rig elections. When these measures fail, postpone or cancel elections entirely.
The warning signs are manifest: politicized law enforcement, targeted repression, systematic gerrymandering, attacks on civil society. Each step enables the next. Incremental erosion is reversible; crisis is not.
Protecting democracy demands immediate action: defend judicial independence, safeguard electoral infrastructure, and resist every attempt to compromise free elections. Citizens, institutions, and political leaders must recognize that democracy’s greatest vulnerability lies in the assumption of its permanence.
The international examples aren’t cautionary tales from distant lands—they’re blueprints. The same forces that dismantled democracy in Algeria, Turkey, and Hungary operate here, now. The difference lies not in our exceptionalism but in our response.
Time remains, but not much. Democracy doesn’t die in darkness; it dies in broad daylight, one “emergency measure” at a time, while citizens debate whether the threat is real. By the time the question is settled, the answer no longer matters.
The future of American democracy depends on understanding this: authoritarianism doesn’t announce itself. It arrives over time through legal channels, claims popular mandates, and wraps itself in the flag. It succeeds when good people assume it can’t happen here.
It can. It is. The only question is whether we’ll stop it.
