In the first part of this reflection, I traced the external consequences of what I termed the “Western Fall” in 2016—the geopolitical shift towards a volatile, multipolar world. I concluded that perhaps the most critical variable in this global equation remains the internal health of the West itself. It is here, on the home front, particularly within the United States, that the drivers I first identified—social fragmentation, profound economic inequality, and the alienation fueled by technological disruption—have metastasized, placing the nation’s democratic foundation under unprecedented strain.

Looking back from mid-2025, the symptoms of democratic erosion are no longer subtle theoretical risks; they are documented realities. Respected global indices paint a concerning picture. The Economist Intelligence Unit has continued to classify the U.S. as a “flawed democracy” for nearly a decade, citing deep-seated political polarization and a decline in trust for the functioning of government. Freedom House’s latest “Freedom in the World 2025” report highlights ongoing concerns over political rights and the rule of law. Perhaps most chillingly, the V-Dem Institute at the University of Gothenburg has repeatedly warned of “autocratization” trends, noting that the level of liberal democracy enjoyed by the average American has significantly eroded over the last ten years. This is not just academic. It’s reflected in the public consciousness; recent polling from Gallup and Pew Research in late 2024 and early 2025 shows trust in core institutions—Congress, the Supreme Court, the media—hovering at historic lows. A startling majority of Americans now believe their own democracy is under serious threat.

These symptoms are a direct evolution of the root causes I diagnosed in 2016. The backlash to social liberalization has not abated; it has calcified into intractable cultural warfare, where political affiliation is now a primary marker of tribal identity. The economic inequality I wrote about has only become more acute, creating a vast and politically potent sense of disenfranchisement. Many Americans feel the system is rigged, a belief that populist figures from both the left and right have successfully channeled, further eroding faith in established processes. And the technological landscape has become a far more effective accelerant for division than I could have fully imagined. Social media algorithms reward outrage, AI-powered disinformation makes it nearly impossible to maintain a shared set of facts, and citizens retreat into insulated echo chambers, making compromise and consensus-building exercises in futility.

For the average citizen, the consequences of this decay are tangible and exhausting. It manifests as a pervasive political anxiety that seeps into daily life, straining relationships with family, friends, and neighbors. It’s visible in the persistent government gridlock that leaves critical, long-term problems—from crumbling infrastructure and soaring healthcare costs to immigration reform—unsolved, reinforcing the narrative that the system is broken. Most insidiously, it leads to an erosion of the shared civic story. When citizens lose faith in their elections, their courts, and their fellow Americans, the very idea of a unified nation with a common purpose begins to dissolve, leaving a void filled with suspicion and resentment.

Is there a path forward? The “deliberate steering” I mentioned in 2016 feels more necessary, yet more difficult, than ever. It requires moving beyond partisan rancor to focus on strengthening the democratic “plumbing” itself. A growing chorus of policy experts and civil society groups, from the Brookings Institution to the Carnegie Endowment, point toward several key areas for renewal.

First is institutional fortification. This involves passing robust federal legislation to protect voting rights and ensure election integrity, removing partisan influence from the process of drawing electoral maps, and exploring serious campaign finance reform to reduce the influence of money in politics. It also means reinvesting in the institutions of government themselves, particularly the non-partisan civil service, as a bulwark against political whims.

Second is confronting the information crisis. This is not about censorship, but empowerment. It requires a national effort to boost media literacy skills from a young age, enabling citizens to better distinguish credible information from propaganda. It also means demanding greater transparency and accountability from technology platforms whose algorithms have proven so socially corrosive.

Third, and perhaps most fundamentally, is civic and community renewal. National politics may be toxic, but change can be built from the ground up. Fostering local journalism, supporting community-based organizations that bring diverse people together to solve local problems, and promoting models of deliberative democracy can help rebuild the social trust and habits of cooperation that have atrophied. It is in the local sphere where a sense of shared purpose can be most readily rediscovered.

In my 2016 analysis, I concluded by questioning how political systems would operate as a result of the new normal. For the United States, the answer is clear: they are operating under extreme duress. The internal decay of American democracy is not merely a domestic tragedy; as we saw in Part One, it weakens the entire Western alliance and creates vacuums on the world stage that autocratic powers are eager to fill. The struggle to repair the foundations of American democracy is therefore not just a national imperative; it is a globally significant one. The outcome remains uncertain, resting on the difficult question of whether a deeply divided nation can rediscover the collective will to engage in the hard, unglamorous work of self-governance.

When I first wrote about the concept of a “Western Fall” back in 2016, I was diagnosing what I saw as a period of profound internal challenge brewing within Western nations. My analysis then pointed to the societal friction from rapid social liberalization clashing with traditional values, the corrosive effects of widening income inequality, and the seismic disruptions brought by globalization and technology. These, I argued, were key drivers of a growing popular disenchantment that could lead to a potential decline in the West’s outward influence.

Looking back from our vantage point in mid-2025, it’s striking how those internal recalibrations have not only deepened but have also acted as significant catalysts on the global stage. The internal stresses I identified, as I suspected they might, have contributed to accelerating the transition from a post-Cold War order, often perceived (perhaps too simplistically) as one of Western or unipolar dominance, to a genuinely multipolar global landscape. This new era is characterized by multiple, assertive centers of power, more fluid and often transactional alliances, and a far more contested and unpredictable international stage. Events since 2016 are now punctuated by the raw, kinetic volatility we’ve witnessed just this past week: with Russia and Ukraine continuing to trade devastating blows in a war of attrition that has become a laboratory for next-generation drone warfare, and the direct, unprecedented missile exchanges between Iran and Israel threatening to pull the entire Middle East into a wider conflagration. These events underscore the trajectory I was beginning to trace.

The manifestations of this shifting global power dynamic have become even clearer than I might have anticipated. The rise of assertive non-Western powers, which I was tracking, has solidified. China, despite its own evolving economic narrative, has moved to a more pronounced global presence. Its Belt and Road Initiative, though adapted in response to critiques around debt and sustainability, continues to be a significant vector of influence alongside its formidable military modernization and robust push in critical technological domains like AI. India, whose economic resilience I noted, has truly championed its “strategic autonomy.” Its robust GDP growth and nuanced foreign policy—balancing relationships with the US, Russia, and China—confirm its role as a pivotal independent force. I also observed the growing independence of regional powers like Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE; today, their diversified partnerships and assertive national visions are undeniable. The expansion of BRICS+ in 2024, incorporating nations like Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE, was a landmark I couldn’t have precisely predicted in detail, but the underlying aspiration it represents a Global South seeking greater voice and alternative platforms that aligns with the systemic shifts I was exploring.

The emerging multipolar order is characterized by increased volatility and a distinct resurgence of “hard” geopolitics. The direct state-on-state missile attacks between Iran and Israel this week, targeting oil facilities, nuclear-related sites, and population centers, have torn away the veil of their long-running shadow war. This escalation, which has reportedly killed dozens and wounded hundreds on both sides, exemplifies the grave risk of miscalculation in a multipolar system where regional powers act more assertively and the constraints of hegemonic oversight have frayed. This volatility is reflected in rising defense budgets; global military expenditure reached a record $2.718 trillion in 2024, according to SIPRI. Concurrently, the war in Ukraine persists as a brutal testament to this reality. Recent reports from the front lines in June 2025 describe a grinding conflict where unmanned systems now account for a huge percentage of casualties and where both sides are constantly innovating… Ukraine advancing its Sapsan ballistic missile project while Russia deploys North Korean artillery clones, highlighting a protracted struggle with devastating human cost and global repercussions.

This diffusion of power has inevitably stressed traditional Western alliances and institutions. The UN Security Council frequently finds itself deadlocked, and the WTO’s Appellate Body has remained non-functional since late 2019. In this context, the rise of “minilateral” groupings like the Quad and AUKUS makes sense as more agile arrangements. The intensification of competition in new arenas is another area where trends have sharpened. The race for technological supremacy in AI and semiconductors has evolved into a major geostrategic fault line, visible in the US export controls targeting China’s tech advancement and Beijing’s equally determined drive for self-reliance.

These shifts have profound implications for addressing our shared global challenges, a core concern of my 2016 piece regarding isolationism. Effective climate action is demonstrably complicated by geopolitical rivalry that can fracture efforts through trade barriers and divert vital resources. The COVID-19 pandemic provided a painful lesson in how “vaccine nationalism” can hamper global health security. Economic stability is increasingly vulnerable to trade fragmentation and strategic “decoupling,” which can disproportionately impact developing nations. And the erosion of the arms control architecture, with treaties like New START facing expiry without a clear successor, brings the specter of a renewed nuclear arms race into sharper, more alarming focus.

Reflecting on my “Western Fall” thesis from 2016, it seems less about an absolute, terminal decline of the West and more about a profound, ongoing recalibration of its relative power and influence in a world where other poles are not just rising but are now firmly established. This “new normal,” as I termed it then, is dynamic and fiercely contested. For Western nations, the challenge is to adapt to a reality where their primacy is no longer assured. For rising powers, their enhanced stature brings the undeniable opportunity to co-shape global norms, but also the critical responsibility to contribute constructively to global public goods. The overarching risk, as some analysts have warned with the “G-Zero” concept, is a leadership vacuum where heightened geopolitical instability stymies collective action. The “deliberate steering” I called for then remains an urgent imperative. And perhaps the most critical variable in this equation remains the internal health of the West itself, particularly the state of American democracy, which warrants its sober reflection. (Part 2 coming next week)