What worries me about American institutions is the method more than any single act. Viktor Orbán showed how it works in Hungary. His party turned 53% of the vote in 2010 into two-thirds of the seats. It then passed a new constitution after nine days of debate and reshaped the courts, all by legal means. Elections kept happening, on a tilted field. Scholars call this competitive authoritarianism.
I am not the first to see the pattern here. Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way, who named it, argue that the United States has slid into it. Garry Kasparov has long drawn the same line to Putin. At home I see a measurable decline in the rule of law and corruption excused as strength. I also see a Congress that has largely stopped checking Donald Trump.
The tilt reaches elections too. A 2025 executive order demanded proof of citizenship to register until courts blocked it, and Texas redrew its districts in mid-decade at the president’s urging.
Fear makes the playbook work. Karen Stenner found that perceived threats push people with an authoritarian streak toward intolerance and deference. People frightened of exaggerated threats outsource their courage to a strongman, excuse cruelty, and accept intimidation, as long as they feel safe.
The United States is not Hungary. Its courts still rule against the president, and its states run their own elections. The playbook can also be beaten. Given a fair enough chance, voters end it: in 2026 Hungarians voted Orbán out after 16 years.
For Dominicans who lived under Rafael Trujillo, his is still the name that lands. He never needed a single blow either. In 1930 he kept the army in its barracks while a revolt toppled the president, then won a rigged election.
Institutions rarely fall at once. They fall when the people meant to defend them stand aside.