The Corruption of Democracy: Ancient Lessons for Modern Politics

Growing up in Western Germany in the 1970s, I believed we lived in the one and only form of democracy. But as a child, I couldn’t understand why Eastern Germany, so different in every way, called itself the “German Democratic Republic.” Surely, I thought, there could only be one definition of such an important word, one that defines the very essence of the society we live in.

Yet, no one could explain to me in simple ways why two diametrically opposed systems both claimed the same term. I only got politically motivated truisms, none of which persuaded me. I could accept that “football” meant different things in Europe and the U.S., but could the same principle apply to the essential terms of how societies define themselves?

Fast forward to today, and the same confusion persists, but now within the West itself. We are witnessing the tribalization of the political process — the erosion of the common narrative that once held societies together. The old labels of left and right, liberal and conservative, no longer accurately reflect people’s affiliations. A polarizing conflict over systems, once outsourced during the Cold War, has now been insourced. Both sides in our divided world claim to understand democracy, yet they apply entirely different definitions and frameworks. Crucially, only one side still plays by the traditional democratic rules.

Amid this growing tension, why not turn to the ancient Greeks, the inventors of democracy, the ancient “Founding Fathers”, to see what they had to say? The Greeks were well aware that not all democracies are created equal. Plato knew there was a corrupt form of democracy but didn’t have a precise word for it. His student Aristotle went further, but it took another hundred years until the Greek philosopher, Polybius, finally created a more universal framework to describe these political shifts, which is highly relevant to our current moment.

He recognized the three primary forms of governance long defined by the Greeks: the rule of one, the rule of a few, and the rule of many. The good forms of these systems were monarchy, aristocracy (based on merit), and democracy. The bad forms, however, were tyranny, oligarchy, and, as Polybius termed it, ochlocracy.

Ochlocracy is the most dangerous because it masquerades as democracy while undermining its very principles.

Yet here we are, 2,500 years later, still ignorant of history, in the midst of a political unraveling, with no clear term for the corrupt form of democracy, wondering why we can no longer engage in curious, meaningful conversations with one another. Even when you search for the antonym of “democracy,” you’ll often find terms like “tyranny” or “oligarchy” instead of something more accurate and coherent. The systemic understanding of how societies decay into ochlocracy is lost in mainstream discourse, leaving us vulnerable to the very forces we can’t properly name.

As a German, my cultural conditioning is shaped by the fact that my country has experienced four diametrically opposed forms of society within the last hundred years — three of which, from the Kaiser’s monarchy to Nazism and Communism, wreaked havoc on the world and their own people before this nation could ultimately arrive at democracy.

This unpredictable and destructive political dynamic, often unfathomable as a historical reality to my American friends, has taught an important lesson for today’s political challenges: when complex systems allow ambiguity in terms and definitions, entropy, the slow decay of the system, inevitably follows.

What we are witnessing now is the breakdown of the shared societal framework that holds us together, allowing entropy to take hold. The rise of populism, the rejection of expert authority, and the manipulation of democratic norms and truth itself are all symptoms of a deeper disease. We are slipping into ochlocracy, and we lack even the language to describe it.

Ochlocracy, as understood by the Greeks, is simple and brutal. As the philosopher Christoph Quarch argues forcefully: It’s a form of rule where a leader strikes a deal with his followers: ‘Give up your rights to me, and I’ll grant you the power to subjugate a minority beneath you.’

This is the reign of the ochlos?—?the mob. Since ochlocracy is a bit tricky to pronounce, my friend Samuel proposed the term mobocracy, which really hits the mark. The mob and its leaders, or “mobsters,” manifest in various forms, generally driven by some form of dogma or ideology, then starting as populism and escalating into fascism, communism, religious fanatism and other forms of absolute tyranny.

Throughout history, the targeted group has changed — whether it was Jews in Nazi Germany, immigrants today, or another minority tomorrow. The specifics don’t matter. What matters is the emotional fury this dynamic stirs, preying on their followers’ fears of being left behind by rapid change, they offer a dark sense of purpose that makes them feel powerful again.

Once this devil’s pact is made, the ochlocrat aligns with oligarchs, who then elevate him to tyranny. The system becomes rigged, with democratic rules twisted to undermine — and ultimately abolish — democracy itself.

In modern terms, it’s as if a soccer player suddenly picks up the ball and throws it into the goal. Everyone in the stadium would know this violates the rules. The game would be stopped, and the player ejected. But in our current political climate, the referees — our institutions — are either corrupted or too weak to respond. The spectators, rather than uniting to defend the rules, are blinded by propaganda — amplified exponentially by social media — and begin fighting each other, losing sight of what’s truly at stake: the integrity of the game, the operating system for the common good. Welcome back to the fall of Rome in 476 AD.

In the European Union, we’ve seen the ochlocratic mindset drive Brexit, take hold in Hungary and Poland, and rise with the AfD in Germany, the Rassemblement National in France, and similar forces in Italy, the Netherlands, and Austria. The dams that hold democracy together are at risk of breaking.

This is the existential crisis we face today. With the USA as the world’s hegemon, the presidential election has become the ultimate battleground for which form of governance will shape the world’s near future. Thomas Paine’s “Age of Reason” which once sparked the U.S. revolution has now been exchanged by a constant “Attack on Reason”.

Despite the historic stakes, democratic systems and their citizens?—?from Europe to the U.S.?—?still lack a systematic understanding and language to describe the difference between democracy and ochlocracy in simple terms.

And history reminds us where this path leads. Hitler rose to power with only 43.9% of the vote. His ascent to absolute control was done fully within the rules of the democratic system. And just like in Germany in the twenties and thirties, today’s ochlocrats and their supporting oligarchs offer simple answers to complex problems. These promises are like opium for the masses who are overwhelmed by complexity — seductive but ultimately as false as the illusions opium creates. In Germany’s case, this led to the well-known horrors of the Holocaust and a world war.

The truth is, ochlocratic-oligarchic-tyrannical systems have never worked — and never will. They oppose basic human dignity and the conditions in which human life thrives. These systems are inherently dysfunctional, leading to corruption, economic decline, internal oppression, and, inevitably, war.

Interestingly, the leaders of these systems are always brutally honest about their intentions — Hitler was, Stalin was, and so are today’s ochlocratic populists — see Project 2025 . Yet without clear language to define their true nature, we fail to listen and recognize that these figures are fundamentally anti-democratic — and fail to eject them from the game early on.

Why do we so quickly forget the fundamental reason why humans — despite being relatively slow and weak within the animal kingdom — have become its most successful species? It’s our ability to collaborate and co-create. Our brains are wired with neuroreceptors for group-awareness, enabling us to thrive as a collective. A good football team relies on collective coherence, just as the Navy SEALs depend on it, and every symphonic orchestra achieves brilliance through collective harmony. All of that brilliance is only possible because they have absolute trust in one another and commit to the same values. So why is this well-known truth so often absent in our private, political, and business realities?

The ancient Greeks, without today’s neuroscience, already grasped this evolutionary truth and integrated it into their societal DNA. In an effort to return to the simplicity the Greeks discovered a long time ago, the essence of the framework that distinguishes good forms of government from bad ones — and democracy from ochlocracy — is straightforward: it’s selflessness versus selfishness.

In democracy, the common good must come first. In ochlocracy, leaders prioritize their own self-interest above all else and promise their followers the same right to selfishness. This is where societal entropy begins.

With the loss of societal cohesion, it seems we’ve reached a point where even basic principles, such as how to establish truth or the burden of proof in discourse, are up for debate. As a result, victimhood is being institutionalized even by its highest political leaders as a form of righteous entitlement, leading to a broad infantilization of adulthood. This shift undermines fundamental virtues, from accountability to personal agency.

The Greeks developed a profound formula, which they enshrined as an imperative of their highest god Apollo: “Know Thyself.” This seemingly simple truth encapsulates three meta-values that most human philosophies and religions agree on — the principle of A.R.E.: Awareness, Responsibility, and Empathy. These three are the prerequisites for true adulthood, enabling individuals to be part of something greater than themselves, starting with the common good. It means understanding that the “quantitative promise of liberty” must be exchanged for a “modern, qualitative promise of liberty,” as the German-Indian philosopher Krisha Krops suggests. More Facebook friends do not equate to true friendship, and more success does not automatically lead to fulfillment.

In stark contrast, we now witness more and more fearful, entitled children in grown bodies occupying high-ranking positions, and we call them “leaders.” As Instagram and TikTok increasingly program the next generation into dopamine-driven narcissists, controlled by algorithms and AI, it becomes easy to fall into despair and lose faith in humanity’s capacity for resilience and (self-) innovation. The constant reinforcement of superficial validation can make one doubt whether we can break free from this cycle and return to deeper, more meaningful growth.

Without these shared principles and values, trust as the essential glue in any relationship, whether personal, professional, or societal — begins to disintegrate. The "Truth Apocalypse" accelerates, as my friends Curt and Keiron aptly call it, making it the title of their impressive social initiative.

When truth has eroded, trust collapses, and entire nations lose their legitimacy in the eyes of their stakeholders overnight. This is exactly what led to the implosion of the Soviet Empire between 1989 and 1991, to name just one prominent example we once celebrated. Now, we may be standing on the verge of a similar fate ourselves.

Let’s apply the ancient Greek formula with a simple test to the political beliefs of parties and their leaders: Is there awareness, responsibility and empathy? In other words: Do they serve the common good, or are they primarily driven by self-interest? Is the leader’s character aligned with serving the community, or motivated by personal gain, only?

If the latter, they are ochlocrats (or “mobocrats”) and must be loudly identified as such for all to see. They lead a mob, not the people, not by the people and for sure never for the people. Only then can all citizens make an informed choice about which system and which character they want to align themselves with.

The lesson from my childhood has come full circle: The ‘German Democratic Republic’ was never democratic, and its ochlocratic experiment in the form of communism inevitably failed, disappearing into the dark corners of history. The same will happen to today’s proposed versions. But in a nuclear-armed world, we cannot afford another experiment, especially not involving the most powerful nation on the planet.

So, let’s bring this ancient wisdom back into our modern discourse, making the common good the guiding principle and Awareness, Responsibility, Empathy the ultimate test of real adulthood, real leadership and societal progress: A renewed operating system of real human interaction and connection.

And let’s start calling things by their true names:

Ochlocrats are not democrats. The ochlocratic game is one of selfishness, not the common good. It is a mobocracy. And as history shows, these figures and the systems they create inevitably collapse, leaving destruction in their wake as they descend into the abyss.