Empire In Entropy

An essay

Photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash

*This essay was originally written and published to my personal blog on November 3rd, 2024*

The Dissolution of American Democracy

I remember the exact moment I realized our democracy was unraveling. It was not during the January 6th insurrection, though that day validated many fears. It was not in the endless parade of election denials or the gradual erosion of institutional norms. I had not expected to witness it in a grocery store, of all places, but there I was, watching people who used to share polite nods now quarreling about the ‘facts’ behind organic produce. It was not just a disagreement; conspiracy theorists were berating store employees for working for a place that was ‘selling poison’ to kids. The fabric of our shared reality had torn, and through that tear, I glimpsed the entropy that now threatens to consume our republic. At that moment, a part of me seemed to die; this feeling, more than any statistic, has driven my obsession with understanding how our system has reached this critical state.

The second law of thermodynamics tells us that entropy, the tendency toward disorder, always increases in closed systems. I believe that political systems are not exempt from this law. The carefully constructed machinery of American democracy, built on checks and balances, separation of powers, and the rule of law, calls for continuous attention and energy to maintain order. Without it, decay is inevitable. We are witnessing this decay in real time as our political institutions strain under the weight of polarization, disinformation, and the all-inviting siren song of authoritarianism. We are not immune to the forces that cause all things to fall apart.

However, this is not just a piece designed to be shared on the internet; it is an investigation into the patterns and processes of decay inspired by classical political theory and contemporary systems theory. I aim to explore how the forces of entropy manifest in our political sphere and, more crucially, how we might channel these same forces for renewal. Thinkers have grappled with the cycles of political order and chaos, offering insights that feel eerily prescient today. What if we could adapt their wisdom to our current moment, combined with our modern comprehension of complex systems and network effects, to better navigate our current crisis? The question is not whether we can stop entropy—we cannot—but whether we can channel its energy toward regeneration rather than collapse and transform our crisis into an opportunity for growth.

As we approach 2025, with the potential return of a Trump presidency growing each day, the stakes could not feel higher. This exploration is, therefore, not merely academic but also an attempt to understand the forces threatening our democracy and to identify solutions before it is too late. We will examine how the actions of individuals ripple out into social networks, how institutions both resist and amplify change, and, most importantly, how we can work together to rebuild the foundations of democracy, even as the framework crumbles. We must become the architects of our future, even as the structures of the past begin to dissolve around us.

Patterns of Imperial Decline

The decline of empires has always followed haunting patterns that echo across centuries. While studying Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, I was struck by how our current moment mirrors the final centuries of Rome; it was not the specific events but the overall structure that seemed to line up in such a disquieting, and uncanny way. Gibbon describes how Rome’s republican institutions were gradually hollowed out while maintaining their outer form, as wealth was concentrated in the hands of an elite few while political discussion dissolved into petty factional warfare. The parallels to modern America are impossible to ignore: declining civic values, economic instability, political corruption, social divisions, and an increasing vulnerability to external threats – which all seem lifted straight from our history books. However, unlike Rome, America is a soft power empire; our means of influence are more expansive and fragile in the modern world.

Perhaps even more relevant to our situation is the dissolution of the British Empire, which Hannah Arendt analyzes in The Origins of Totalitarianism. The British maintained a facade of democratic values at home while practicing authoritarian control abroad, creating a moral contradiction that eventually undermined their imperial project in a way that feels deeply familiar. Today, America faces a comparable challenge – championing democracy while economically supporting authoritarian regimes, conducting drone warfare with minimal oversight, and letting corporate interests override democratic will. This tension between democratic ideals and imperial practice has created a uniquely American variety of imperial overreach that could be a key component of our present turmoil.

What makes our position distinct, however, is our role as a ‘soft-power’ empire. Unlike Rome or Britain, ours flows through cultural and economic channels rather than direct territorial control, creating unique vulnerabilities and opportunities. When we consider how a single platform like TikTok has shaped youth culture or how the dollar reserve currency affects global politics, we are reminded that empires can dissolve not through military defeat but through a gradual decline in influence and legitimacy; this, more than anything else, should be cause for concern. I see the institutions that once made America a beacon of democratic governance beginning to falter as our cultural and economic sway continues.

Signs of Systemic Breakdown

Last Year, I watched a congressional hearing about online child privacy; while my mind was focused on folding laundry, I was watching our elected leaders; in their lack of curiosity and grasp of the basics of our rapidly changing technological landscape, I realized how truly outgunned we all were. It was not the political posturing or the technical illiteracy that bothered me; although these were very concerning, it was the complete breakdown of the deliberative process. The elected officials seemed more interested in generating viral soundbites than in engaging in substantive inquiry, while crucial questions about privacy and online safety were not even touched upon. This was a complete exemplification of institutional decay, a process whereby political institutions lose their capacity to function and adapt. Our system of checks and balances, meant to prevent the concentration of power, has become so rigid that it now only prevents necessary action while failing to check abuses when they occur.

The data reveals a stark story of social fragmentation. According to the Pew Research Center’s 2023 study of political polarization, Americans have never been more divided than they are now, with 62% of Republicans and 54% of Democrats viewing the other party as a serious threat to the nation’s well-being. This ideological chasm is reinforced by economic inequality; the Federal Reserve reports that a select few wealthy individuals control more capital than the entire bottom half of Americans combined – an almost unfathomable statistic, given the implications. In my community, the slow disappearance of local newspapers has coincided with the rapid rise of social media echo chambers, fracturing the standard narrative that once bound us together. The decline of social capital has sped up considerably in the digital age, as the ability to communicate directly with people has become increasingly detached from our lives.

However, perhaps the most concerning trend is the erosion of democratic norms and practices. The Brennan Center for Justice documented over 400 bills introduced in state legislatures during the periods of 2021-2022 solely to restrict voting access, and now election employees face increased harassment and threats. This mirrors the argument presented by Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt in How Democracies Die, where they warned that democratic backsliding occurs through legal avenues, with institutions used to undermine the very principles they once protected and upheld. January 6th may have failed, but the rejection of democratic ideals it represented is still very much spreading. According to a recent poll by the Public Religion Research Institute, a growing number of Americans are now expressing openness to authoritarian leadership, which seems to confirm Arendt’s concept of “the banality of evil,” which seems to have sunk roots in our polarized society. People have become all too willing to trade freedom for stability and order.

These breakdowns—institutional, social, and democratic—form a self-reinforcing cycle. When institutions fail to address real problems, people naturally lose faith in them. When social bonds fray, we lose the ability to work together and reform those institutions. When democratic processes are undermined, our ability to solve issues as a collective diminishes further. This opens up a dangerous potential for what can be described as “inverted totalitarianism”—a system where corporate power and political posturing hollow out democratic content while maintaining a democratic appearance. The central question is no longer can this cycle be broken, but do we still possess the ability to do so before it breaks us?

Technology’s Double-Edged Sword

Throughout my career, I have watched with growing unease as technologies that seemed to be democratizing initially have become tools for manipulation. The platforms that aided the Arab Spring have now become the purveyors of conspiracy theories and electoral interference. In 2023, a study by MIT’s Digital Intelligence Lab reported that nearly half of Americans routinely encounter demonstrably false information through social media yet feel increasingly confident in their ability to discern fact from fiction—a genuinely concerning and destabilizing development. This paradox—where increased exposure to misinformation actually strengthens our convictions regarding our own ability to discern truth— exemplifies what Jonathan Haidt terms “the wisdom of repugnance” turned toxically on its head in the digital age.

The emergence of Artificial intelligence has also added another layer to this issue. In 2022, during my time as a software consultant, I witnessed firsthand how these systems can both enhance and undermine human influence. Tools such as the now widely used GPT-4 democratize access to information and creativity while creating unprecedented levels of automated manipulation. According to the research conducted and published in “Nature Machine Intelligence” in 2023, AI-generated content now accounts for almost 30% of online political discourse, much geared toward enflaming division and exploiting cognitive bias. As the philosopher Luciano Floridi puts it in his book The Ethics of Information, we are entering an era of “hyper-history,” where the separation between human-created and machine-generated realities becomes increasingly blurred—threatening the foundation of democratic discourse, which relies on the essential ability to agree on fundamental facts. As the line between reality and fiction begins to blur, can democracy still function; what is the future of truth in a hyper-real, tech-saturated world?

Today’s surveillance mechanisms enabled by technology would make Orwell’s ‘Big Brother’ blush. Digital breadcrumbs can be assembled into detailed profiles of citizens with an almost unimaginable level of ease, and it is not just the breadth of the collected data; its use has become so troubling. Behavioral prediction algorithms, used to tailor advertising, are now deployed to manipulate voters and suppress dissent with incredible and disquieting levels of sophistication. Adding insult to an already severe injury, the cost of such operations has fallen dramatically, becoming widely available to almost all who would seek their use. The Chinese social credit system is a glimpse into how digital surveillance can enable social control that has been studied and partially emulated in other countries, with authoritarian leanings, including even some seemingly benign pieces of legislation in America, using public safety as their pretext.

That said, technology’s role in our current democratic crisis is not set in stone. Recently, a community group online organized through Reddit made the first working version of open-source software, which was designed to flag false information, showing that technology can uplift democracy rather than undermine it. As the political theorist LangdonWinner argues, the key lies in the politics of artifacts’, the core understanding that technology embodies not just a neutral tool but also specific forms of authority and power. As we rush toward an increasingly automated future, can we muster the will and the ability to ensure technology enables and promotes freedom instead of control?

The Authoritarian Temptation

The alluring nature of authoritarian rule gains the most traction in times of social uncertainty. We saw this in WeimarGermany when hyperinflation and political chaos paved the way for promises of ‘order’ and ‘strength.’ We see it now in the increasing appeal of strongmen leaders in democracies worldwide—from Hungary to Brazil to the Philippines– all of them using a similar playbook. What is most concerning is not simply the blatant calls for action but how they directly align with what Timothy Snyder described in On Tyranny: the predictable appeal of an influential leader during times of social upheaval, with promises of simple solutions to complicated problems, where strength trumps deliberation, certainty supersedes nuance, and reason takes a back seat to feeling. These are the siren calls that have led democracies to fascism before and will most likely do so again.

The parallels between our present moment and 1930s Europe are as valid as they are unsettling. The key here is not simply the existence of a charismatic leader or economic distress but the slow and gradual abandonment of democratic ideals by those who are supposed to hold them most dear. Unsurprisingly, people support the claim that “a strong leader who does not have to bother with Congress or elections” would improve the country’s situation, even if that means abandoning democratic principles. This confirms what Arendt noted: ordinary citizens may abandon democratic values through a series of small compromises justified by periods of deep uncertainty and anxiety; it is the very nature of the slippery slope.

The false promises of order through command hold considerable appeal during times of great complexity and uncertainty. Research consistently highlights how periods of rapid change and perceived threats often activate latent authoritarian tendencies in populations. We are witnessing that dynamic play out right now as valid concerns around tech, inequality, and culture are funneled into support for strongman leaders and often authoritarian policies. The readily available technological infrastructure to would-be autocrats also makes our present situation especially dangerous. The modern tools of social control—from surveillance AI to prediction algorithms— would have made past dictators green with envy. The coupling of fascist ideology with digital surveillance technologies creates an opportunity for a total collapse of democracy in a way that was once impossible to imagine.

Resistance and Renewal

In the hushed reading room of my local library, a space usually reserved for quiet contemplation, I noticed a gathering for a public discussion on election integrity, bringing together people from across my city—retired educators, small business owners, and young activists. What arose was not only constructive dialogue but that which Elinor Ostrom described in Governing the Commons as the foundation of democratic resilience: the ability of people in the community to solve collective problems together—a fundamental aspect of self-governance. Despite our apparent differences, we created shared guidelines for election monitoring and a citizen oversight committee that transcended partisan divides. This experience has given me hope.

Democratic renewal must operate on various levels at once. At the individual level, as Peter Levine has documented in We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For, the best method of resistance is to build what he calls “civic muscles,” the very habits and abilities of democratic participation that must actively be utilized in order to have any real effect. This involves moving beyond occasional voting and engaging in local governance, group organizations, and civic education. Civic muscles grow strong through use, creating resilient bonds that can withstand the pressures of authoritarianism while creating a strong, self-supporting, engaged community.

The best method for a more direct and organized approach utilizes what Manuel Castells calls “networks of outrage and hope.” In his 2012 study of social movements, Castells showcases that successful movements combine horizontal networks for coordination with vertical structures for institutional change. We are seeing the results of such approaches in organizations like the Democracy Defense Coalition, which links various pro-democracy groups while keeping its focus on specific reforms. Their successful campaign to protect election employees during 2022-23 provides a template for effective, collective action.

Reforms must also be systemic, and as such, they will require what Roberto Unger has called “democratic experimentalism” – a willingness to reimagine and reconstruct our existing institutions while still holding onto their fundamental democratic principles; we must become the engineers of a better tomorrow. For my part, I have contributed to the development of open-source platforms that are designed to make government more accessible and transparent. Structural and systemical reforms must further support these technological solutions. The Forward Party’s cross-partisan approach to ranked-choice voting has succeeded in various districts and provides insights on institutional innovation that can help us break the cycle of polarization. As Steven Levitsky pointed out in How Democracies Die, democracies thrive when they adjust their institutions to meet changing circumstances, all while still holding fast to their core ideals.

Between Entropy and Renewal

Standing in my yard at night, watching the satellites move across the night sky, I often contemplate how our democratic experiment fits into the broader arc of human history. The same scientific knowledge that gives us those bright, moving pieces of light in the night sky has also provided tools for both liberation and oppression and what we do with those tools is entirely up to us. We are caught at what the systems theorist Stuart Kauffman called “the adjacent possible” – a space between what is and what could be, where small shifts can trigger transformational outcomes. We are in the same position as our forefathers, on the cusp of potential greatness, facing choices that will define us as people.

The forces of entropy that currently threaten American democracy are more than a metaphor; they represent a fundamental property of complex systems, and yet, entropy also drives evolution, adaptation, and renewal. As I observe youth climate movements, or groups dedicated to defending democratic practices, in addition to innovative local governments experimenting with participatory budgeting, I can see the very formation of what the political philosopher Roberto Mangabeira Unger called democratic experimentalism’. These movements understand that democracy is not static but a continually evolving system that constantly requires the efforts of its citizens in order to maintain it. We must become our community’s gardeners and the caretakers of its future.

We are faced with a critical choice. However, this choice is not between stability and chaos – as authoritarian leaders would have you believe. The real choice is between creative renewal and destructive collapse. The same forces that propel our democratic crisis—technological change, social transformation, economic disruption—can also become the source of democratic renewal if we possess the wisdom and courage to make them so. Democracy has never been simply about institutions or elections; it is the continuous, cooperative act of self-governance where we work towards a better future together. As Arendt reminded us, freedom represents more than only the absence of Tyranny; it is also about the freedom to begin again and to work in cooperation to build our collective world.

That path forward for us calls for pragmatism and vision. We must strengthen the community while also reimagining our national institutions. We must also combine our historical knowledge with modern innovations in collective governance. The future of American democracy will not be secure due to blind faith or fear of authoritarianism but through the creative creation of new approaches to governance that fit our time while honoring timeless democratic ideals. Our central question should, therefore, not be whether democracy will manage to survive but what we, the collective citizenry, are willing to do to rejuvenate it. Moreover, what are we willing to give up to secure our children’s future? As history has shown, that power has always rested in our hands.