History does not repeat itself in exactly the same way. Circumstances, behaviours and mechanisms, however, can return in forms that ought to give us pause. And today, at a time when the international order is undergoing profound change, democratic institutions are being tested, and power is once again emerging as a decisive factor in international relations, the period leading up to the Second World War offers some troubling parallels.
The Great Depression of 1929 was not merely an economic catastrophe. It evolved into a social and political crisis and, ultimately, a geopolitical one. Millions of people lost their jobs, their incomes and their faith in the political system. Uncertainty bred fear, and fear sought easy answers.
The crisis did not create fascism. It did, however, find fertile ground already prepared for it. Italy’s Fascist regime had emerged earlier and had already projected a new model of political power: a rejection of parliamentarism, personalised leadership, discipline, state centralisation and aggressive nationalism. It was a model that began to exert influence beyond Italy’s borders and to provide a point of reference for authoritarian movements and regimes.
Economic collapse acted as an accelerant. In Germany, the fragile Weimar Republic could not withstand the pressure. In Japan, parliamentary institutions gradually gave way to militarism. In Spain, political and social conflict led to civil war and eventually to dictatorship.
The phenomenon was not confined to Europe. The Great Depression also hit Latin America hard, particularly economies dependent on commodity exports. Social unrest and the collapse of established political balances were accompanied, in several countries, by military coups and authoritarian forms of government. Democracy was now in retreat internationally.
And here lies the first important parallel with the present day. Democracies do not always collapse because they are attacked from the outside. They can also be weakened from within, when citizens cease to believe in their effectiveness, when institutions lose their legitimacy, and when social insecurity creates the expectation that stronger, less constrained forms of power can provide faster solutions.
The experience of the interwar period also shows us something else. Authoritarianism was not fuelled by poverty alone. In some cases, it was also strengthened by the economic recovery that followed. Public works, rearmament, falling unemployment and the cultivation of national self-confidence created the illusion that the loss of freedom could be an acceptable price for efficiency and prosperity.
Thus, economic crisis was transformed into a crisis of democracy, the crisis of democracy into nationalism, and nationalism into revisionism. Prosperity without democratic checks and balances did not necessarily lead to peace. On the contrary, in some regimes it financed rearmament and strengthened the conviction that power could impose new realities. And the world ultimately found itself on the brink of the abyss.
Today, under very different circumstances, to be sure, we are witnessing some comparable trends. The post-war international order is being tested, the United Nations often appears weak in the face of major crises, while the rivalry among the United States, China and Russia is reviving the logic of spheres of influence. The war in Ukraine, conflicts in the Middle East and tensions in the Indo-Pacific remind us that the use of military power has returned as an instrument of policy.
There is another similarity: social insecurity. Then, the economic crisis of 1929 undermined confidence in democracy. Today, economic inequalities, energy insecurity, migration pressures, technological disruption and disinformation are fuelling fear, populism and extreme political movements.
The recent election result in Germany is another powerful warning signal. In Saxony-Anhalt, the AfD emerged by a wide margin as the strongest political force, securing 43.8%, while the CDU was limited to 17.2%. This is not merely a regional electoral upset. It is an indication of deeper shifts taking place in European societies—shifts that could herald a broader wave of populism, nationalism and a rejection of established political balances.
The message from Germany carries particular symbolic weight precisely because of the country’s historical experience. It reminds us that when democratic forces fail to provide convincing answers to citizens’ insecurities, the political vacuum can be filled by forces offering simplistic, nationalist or authoritarian solutions. And this does not concern Germany alone. It concerns Europe as a whole.
Similar pressures are emerging elsewhere. In France, the far-right National Rally has, for the first time, secured a parliamentary group in the Senate, strengthening its institutional presence ahead of the 2027 presidential election. In Brazil, the second-round contest between Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Flávio Bolsonaro reflects the deep polarisation running through the country and the competing visions for the future of its democratic institutions.
These cases are not identical, nor do they inevitably lead to the same outcome. They do, however, demonstrate that political polarisation and the rejection of traditional parties are not confined to a single country or continent. In such an environment, the resilience of democratic institutions depends to a large extent on whether they can respond to citizens’ genuine concerns and preserve their trust.
For Greece, there is an additional reason for concern. Recent findings from a European survey, to which I also referred previously in TA NEA, record a worrying degree of acceptance of authoritarian views among part of Generation Z. Approximately one in four young people appears, under certain conditions, willing to accept even a dictatorial form of government.
For a country that experienced dictatorship and restored democracy only half a century ago, this cannot be dismissed as a mere polling anomaly. As the lived memory of unfreedom recedes, there is a risk that younger generations may no longer perceive democracy as a hard-won historical achievement, but rather as something self-evident and therefore expendable.
Of course, today is not the 1930s. Modern democracies possess stronger institutions, welfare states, constitutional checks and balances, and greater historical experience. The European Union, NATO, global economic interdependence and nuclear deterrence create mechanisms that did not exist at the time.
Nevertheless, democratic resilience cannot be taken for granted. The true strength of institutions is revealed when they are put to the test, while major crises can emerge from a succession of miscalculations, regional conflicts that spiral beyond control, and the gradual normalisation of heightened tensions within societies.
Democracy is not only about constitutions, elections and institutions. It is also about democratic consciousness, trust and participation. And peace is not safeguarded by strength alone, but also by diplomacy, responsibility, credible deterrence and the preservation of open channels of communication.
Amid this international uncertainty, Greece remains an oasis of democracy and institutional stability. Our democratic tradition is a precious achievement, but also a responsibility that passes from one generation to the next. As elections approach, it is first and foremost we, the citizens, who are called upon to protect it: through our participation, through political responsibility, and through choices that serve the stability, democratic normality and progress of our country.
History does not tell us that we are destined to repeat the past. It warns us of what can happen when we ignore the signs. Let us therefore heed that warning and use it to shape the future with greater awareness, democratic resilience and responsibility.