In Weimar Republic 2.0 (2022), I traced the threads tying the collapse of the Weimar Republic (1919‑1933) to the fraying edges of modern democracy. Like a compass in a storm, pointing out the shoals and reefs that could lie hidden beneath familiar waters. Weimar did not implode in a single night of dramatic fireworks; it unraveled in small, human‑sized blunders, the sort that make history sigh and mutter, “I told you so.”
This post builds on that compass, first by examining, with careful attention and more detail, the missteps that seem to have felled Weimar, and then by holding a polite, wary mirror up to today’s politics. Consider it a projection, with all the perils and blind spots that projections entail.
The goal is not to indulge in melodrama but to issue a clear warning: Democracy does not collapse in one fell swoop; it dies in increments, many of which, if recognised early enough, can be avoided entirely.
The return of Weimar mistakes?
History, if it does not repeat itself, certainly has an irritating habit of humming the same tune until someone notices. The collapse of the Weimar Republic and the rise of Hitler were not caused by a single dramatic event, nor by some uniquely German susceptibility to goose-stepping. Apparently they were caused by a sequence of very human blunders: complacency, opportunism, short-termism, and the fatal belief that the rules of the game could bend indefinitely without breaking.
Look around today—at Washington, Westminster, Brussels, Budapest—and the same habits are back in fashion. The names are different, the slogans updated, the memes sharper, but the mechanics seem alarmingly familiar. One might almost think democracies are not fragile flowers after all, but rather stubborn plants that politicians water with vinegar until they die.
Elites and their pet populists
In Weimar Germany, Franz von Papen and his friends thought they could keep Hitler on a leash. He would, they believed, provide popular appeal, while the “serious men” would continue to run the state. Instead, Hitler took the leash, tied it around their necks, and threw them under the bus for good measure. The misjudgement was spectacular in its simplicity: assume control of a popular force, underestimate its appetite, and proceed to be surprised.
Modern politics is littered with echoes of this error. American conservatives convinced themselves that Donald Trump was a useful lightning rod; in Britain, Tory leaders danced dangerously with Farage; in parts of Europe, centre-right parties experiment with normalising extremists, as if granting them ministries will magically neutralise their radical impulses. This is rather like inviting a fox into the henhouse to deal with a rat problem. The hens, predictably, do not survive the experiment.
The siren call of emergency powers
Article 48 of the Weimar constitution permitted rule by decree. Initially, it was intended as a constitutional safety valve, a mechanism for truly exceptional crises. By the early 1930s, it was the default mode of governance. Parliament became a debating club with a nice roof, and the habit of bypassing normal processes had entrenched itself.
Today, we see familiar patterns: executive orders, emergency authorisations, “temporary” surveillance measures, and omnibus security laws often introduced with solemn assurances that they are strictly limited. The only part of this promise that tends to survive intact is the introduction. Once established, such powers cling like damp in a basement, waiting for someone less scrupulous to exploit them. Constitutional safety valves become habitual instruments of power rather than exceptions.
Fragmentation of the opposition
Weimar’s left illustrates the peril of internecine squabbling. The Social Democrats and the Communists loathed each other far more than they feared the Nazis. Their mutual distrust allowed Hitler the breathing room to consolidate influence and dismantle resistance.
Fast forward to today. In the US, progressives sometimes spend more time in internecine purity contests than building a firewall against authoritarianism. In Europe, centre-left and green parties bicker over policy minutiae while nationalist blocs assemble disciplined and coherent voting machinery. If defenders of democracy cannot learn to sit at the same table, history suggests they will find they no longer have a table at all.
Political violence and selective outrage
Weimar tolerated right-wing violence while punishing left-wing actors with vigour. SA attacks were often ignored or implicitly condoned; unionists and socialists faced the full force of law. The result was a culture that legitimised partisan violence for the politically favoured, and delegitimised the same behaviour in opponents.
Modern parallels abound. Right-wing militias storm a legislature and are described as “patriots,” while peaceful protesters demanding climate action are treated as existential threats. Selective enforcement sends a signal: some actors may operate above the law, provided they wear the right colour tie. It is astonishing how often societies elect to encourage the very people least likely to respect the rules.
The lure of order in economic crisis
Hyperinflation and the Great Depression destroyed faith in Weimar’s liberal democracy. Desperation rendered citizens more willing to trade freedom for stability, a compromise that extremists exploited expertly.
Today, similar pressures are visible. Cost-of-living crises, collapsing housing affordability, precarious work, and climate shocks create fertile ground for populists offering simple explanations: migrants, Brussels, “globalists.” When democracy appears incapable of solving material problems, the temptation to accept harsh remedies grows, and with it the allure of authoritarian promises.
Embarrassed defenders of democracy
Perhaps the most damning Weimar mistake was the reluctance of its own politicians to defend democracy as something worth defending. Democracy was treated as Versailles’ unwanted child, never cherished, never celebrated, never actively taught to citizens as valuable. Pride in democratic norms was almost entirely absent.
Modern leaders frequently echo this mistake. Democracy is discussed as a mechanism, a procedure, a cumbersome formality. Meanwhile, authoritarians trumpet greatness, nation, destiny, and strength. If democracy is sold like a tax form, do not be surprised when the crowd prefers the circus.
The enabling act moment
The final collapse of Weimar democracy came not with a bang, but with an apparently mundane parliamentary act: the Enabling Act of 1933. It handed Hitler the power to legislate without Reichstag oversight. The act was presented as temporary, as stabilising, as necessary. Those who voted for it believed they could control its effects. They were wrong.
Today, equivalents could emerge in the guise of temporary suspensions of elections, sweeping surveillance powers, or emergency decrees expanding executive reach. They will arrive wrapped in patriotism, prudence, and solemn pledges of temporariness, and will be endorsed by moderates convinced that control remains possible. History whispers, with a sly grin, that control rarely works this way.
Lessons not yet learned
In my book, the Weimar Republic did not fall because extremists were too strong; it fell because the guardians of democracy were too weak, divided, or cynical to defend it. Tigers, it seems, are excellent judges of character, and those who think they can ride one unscathed often discover something completely different.
Today, many of the same mistakes appear to be in circulation: overestimation of control, underestimation of appetites, tolerance of shortcuts, fragmentation of defenders, and reluctance to cultivate civic pride in democratic norms. History does not guarantee repetition, but it certainly enjoys a good tune.
Democracy is not fragile because it cannot withstand pressure. It is fragile because the people charged with protecting it sometimes water it with vinegar, step aside, or imagine that small misjudgements cannot accumulate. The echoes of Weimar are here, humming insistently. The question remains: who will notice in time?