The ‘democratic trap’: a political mediocrity, centrist and welfare-oriented, in times that are anything but ordinary

Next year, voters will head to the polls once again to elect the governments of Italy, France and Spain. However, it seems quite clear that the only governments capable of leading the states of Europe must be, in some form, social-democratic parties. By this definition, I am not, of course, referring to the ‘historical’ political label of a social-democratic party – and therefore its necessary positioning on the left – but to the centrist and welfare-oriented meaning that characterises our contemporary world. The issue, in fact, appears to be spiritual rather than merely economic or political. In the absolute mediocrity represented by the welfare-oriented centre—which, for simplicity’s sake, we shall simply call the social-democratic system—lies all the ‘indecision’ of European politics over the last thirty years (here too, by convention, we shall say since the fall of the Wall). An indecision that was almost necessary because, in that era, there was no need to decide anything, as the ship sailed on, more or less steadily, in a world that was opening up ever more, and over which we were the undisputed masters under American leadership.

In this situation, the Social Democratic government was the perfect centrist government, in which the balance between individual aspirations and the welfare system had reached a sort of equilibrium from which it made no sense whatsoever to depart. Why should one, after all? Social democracy represents the culmination of what Michel Foucault, in another era, would have defined – in a convoluted yet meaningful way – as liberal governmentality: that is, that strange, artificial balance – yet functional whilst it lasts – between the market, the welfare state and individual rights.

Such a system was underpinned by continuous, or at least stable, economic growth, and by a promise of a future in which things would be better for the younger generations than for the previous one, thus building its stability on a momentum towards the future. In this way, the younger generations could look after the older ones, as they were wealthier and more numerous. This, however, is no longer the case in the West. The illusion that migrants will take the place of the children we are not having and pay for our pensions is a pipe dream. As if this did not, at the same time, entail inevitable social and integration-related tensions. Or, at the very least, the upheaval of the social and cultural fabric of an entire continent which, up to a point, identified itself (though who knows about today) with its own culture, which constituted its identity. The almost miraculous mechanism of widespread social democracy was based on substantial global stability and a de facto renunciation of the use of force, which was in the hands of a single actor: the United States. Europe therefore opted against substantial military spending, which could be channelled primarily into social spending, whilst the economy remained resilient because there was no global competition for European products, save for competition entirely within the West. Here too, this is no longer the case.

We are an ageing population, debt is rising alongside demand for welfare, and productivity is stagnating. It is a recipe for disaster that is as simple as it is straightforward. Yet things do not seem likely to change. On both sides of the political spectrum, a change of course appears utterly impossible. A change of course would, in fact, spell electoral disaster for whoever undertakes it. We might call this situation our ‘democratic trap’: keeping the social-democratic system afloat has become impossible, yet the parties that wish to govern cannot in any way stray from this path. Not least because, what would the alternative be? The path of liberalism – let us use this much-maligned term, which would nevertheless be essential to stir the stagnant waters in which we find ourselves – appears electorally unviable. We are too old. The ‘decisionist’ alternative, which in Italy is represented in a farcical manner by Vannacci, garners general political support but remains, it too, within the framework of an – albeit extraordinarily confused – expansion of the welfare state and public spending. The ultra-socialist alternative, exemplified here by the Conte-Bonelli-Fratoianni trio, is more formidable than Vannacci because it presents itself as the benign road to hell – leading to definitive economic collapse under the weight of colossal public spending. This is also the case, albeit with different faces and names, across much of Europe.

In short, it seems there is no escaping this social-democratic horizon. And perhaps there is no desire to do so either. This political mediocrity appears to be the spiritual biography of Europe’s current state of mediocrity. However, these times, in which the millstones of history have begun to turn once more, are no times of mediocrity. And those who remain stuck in the middle inevitably risk being crushed.