Misreading freedom and democracy

In contemporary political discourse, freedom and democracy are among the most used words, but paradoxically also among the most misinterpreted. They are articulated as universal principles, but are read, applied and instrumentalized according to the interests of power, geopolitical conjunctures and historical fears of different societies. The incorrect reading of these two notions has produced not only internal political crises, but also international tensions, regional destabilizations and global polarizations that today define the world order.

Freedom, as a misused political concept, is essentially linked to responsibility, while democracy is linked to functional institutions. But, in practice, freedom is often reduced to the absence of restrictions, while democracy is reduced to a formal electoral procedure. This reduction produces regimes that claim democratic legitimacy, but function as authoritarian, populist or oligarchic systems.

In international constellations, freedom is not an equal experience. It is constructed differently in societies with an institutional tradition and differently in societies that have gone through colonial, dictatorial or religious trauma. This is where the misreading arises: when models are exported without taking into account the historical, cultural and social context.

In Iran, democracy and freedom are read through the filter of theocratic ideology. The Iranian political system does not deny popular choice, but limits it through a structure where religious authority prevails over the will of the citizen. Here, freedom is not seen as an individual right, but as a threat to the ideological cohesion of the state. Civic protests, especially those led by women and youth, show that there is a deep clash between a society in transformation and a political elite that reads freedom as destabilization. The misreading lies precisely here: freedom is treated as a Western import, not as an internal social need.

In Venezuela, and in many Latin American countries, democracy has been reduced to electoral legitimacy without institutional accountability. Various regimes have come to power through elections, but have subsequently undermined the separation of powers, free media, and market economies. In this region, freedom is often translated as freedom from traditional elites, but not necessarily as freedom for the individual. Populism has transformed democracy into a tool for emotional mobilization, stripping it of its institutional content. This has produced economic crises, mass emigration, and social polarization, which are then used as justifications for more authoritarianism. The misreading here is twofold: on the one hand, the government calls itself democratic because it won the elections; on the other, the citizen sees freedom only as resistance to the state, not as the construction of a stable legal order.

In the Balkans, freedom remains an unfinished project. The region has emerged from wars, state collapses, and collective trauma, making democracy more of an aspiration than a consolidated reality. Freedom is often identified with national independence, but not always with the freedom of the citizen from corruption, clientelism, and state capture. In this context, the misreading of democracy manifests itself in the form of stabilocracy: regimes that are tolerated internationally for the sake of stability, even though they operate with weak democratic standards at home. This creates a dangerous gap between European rhetoric and Balkan reality, fueling civic cynicism and political apathy.

In Serbia, patriotic populism is constructed as a state narrative. It is fueled by a sense of historical victimization, territorial losses, and the idea of ​​a sovereignty surrounded by enemies. Strong leadership is presented as the protector of the national interest, while democracy is reduced to a legitimizing mechanism for power. Elections are held regularly, but the political field is characterized by control of the media, pressure on the opposition, and instrumentalization of institutions. Here, patriotic populism creates an illusion of national unity, replacing pluralism with loyalty. Democracy is not denied, but administered from above, as a process that must be managed to avoid “chaos.” This model produces relative stability, but makes society dependent on the figure of the leader rather than on the strength of institutions.

In Kosovo, patriotic populism has a different nature. It stems from a fresh history of resistance, war, and state-building. Patriotism here is more protective than domineering, more a demand for dignity than a tool of power. However, even in Kosovo, there is a tendency to associate democracy with strong leadership, perceived as incorruptible and representative of the popular will. The danger arises when this moral leadership begins to be seen as a substitute for institutions. Patriotic populism can produce positive civic mobilization, but if it is not accompanied by institution-building, it risks creating excessive expectations and rapid disappointment. Kosovar democracy remains fragile precisely because the balance between patriotic emotion and institutional rationality has not yet been fully consolidated. This is especially true with the diaspora, which is large in number.

In Albania, patriotic populism appears less in a classic nationalist form and more as a personalization of power. Strong leadership is presented as a guarantor of stability, modernization, and European integration. Patriotism is often translated into rhetoric of development and reform, where criticism of power is labeled as an obstacle to the national interest. In this model, democracy risks turning into electoral democracy without real competition. See the mandate for the fourth time by the SP. Institutions are formally strengthened, but depend on the will of the leader. Populism here does not mobilize against an external enemy, but against “old elites” or “reform blockers,” justifying the centralization of power. In all three cases, patriotic populism and strong leadership serve as temporary substitutes for institutional democracy. They can produce stability, mobilization, and a sense of direction, but if they become the norm, they weaken the democracy they claim to defend. Sustainable democracy is not built on figures, but on institutions; not on patriotic emotions, but on rules, accountability, and civic trust.

Pandemics, wars, energy and migration crises have highlighted another aspect of the misreading of freedom. In moments of crisis, even consolidated democracies have restricted civil liberties, justifying this with collective security. This has opened the debate: is freedom absolute or conditional?

The problem arises when these temporary measures become the norm, used as precedents by authoritarian regimes to justify repression. In this way, international crises serve as laboratories for the deformation of democratic values ​​on a global scale.

The role of the US in the spread of democracy and freedom has historically been crucial, but also contradictory. The US has promoted itself as a champion of democratic values, supporting movements for freedom and civil rights around the world. However, US foreign policy has often balanced idealism with strategic interest. In some cases, support for authoritarian regimes has been justified in the name of stability, the fight against terrorism, or geopolitical rivalries. This has produced an ambivalent perception: the US is seen both as a guarantor of freedom and as a pragmatic actor that tolerates democratic violations when they serve its own interests. However, American influence remains essential in building institutions, in defending the liberal international order, and in creating a global narrative where freedom and democracy are the norm, not the exception. The challenge for the US today is to restore coherence between discourse and action.

The misreading of freedom and democracy is not simply a semantic problem, it is a structural problem. It produces fragile states, polarized societies, and an increasingly uncertain international order. What is required today is not the mechanical export of models, but the construction of democracies that take into account the local context, without abandoning universal principles. Freedom is not the absence of order, but order with meaning. Democracy is not just a vote, but responsibility. Without this new reading, the world will continue to live its greatest paradox: talking about freedom while being afraid of it.