In With Fascism, Out With Democracy?

 There is something deeply uncomfortable about watching the politics of the Global North right now. Not because every country is suddenly fascist, and not because every conservative politician is secretly building a dictatorship in their basement, but because some of the ideas that were once considered politically dangerous are becoming increasingly normal. Borders are becoming political battlegrounds. Immigrants are becoming convenient explanations for economic frustration. Nationalism is being repackaged as common sense. Strongman politics is being sold as efficiency. And democracy, which we spent decades being told was the highest political ideal, is increasingly being treated like something that can be bent when it becomes inconvenient.

America has been the most obvious example, but it is becoming harder to look at this as an American problem. Germany has just given us another uncomfortable reminder. In the September 2026 state election in Saxony-Anhalt, the far-right Alternative for Germany, or AfD, won nearly 44 percent of the vote, taking 39 of 83 seats and becoming the strongest political force in the state. This is historically significant in a country whose post-war political identity has been built, in large part, around making sure fascism never becomes politically respectable again. The AfD's victory has therefore raised questions that go far beyond one German state: what happens when the political firewall around the far right begins to crack?

And Germany is not an isolated case. Across parts of Europe, far-right parties have gained ground by turning immigration, national identity, and dissatisfaction with established political parties into a single political package. The politics are not identical from country to country, and some of these movements have suffered electoral setbacks too, but the broader shift is difficult to ignore. Europe's approach to migration has already become more securitized and restrictive, including among mainstream parties that once positioned themselves further away from the far right.

This is where I think the conversation about fascism becomes more complicated and, frankly, more interesting. Fascism does not have to arrive wearing a black uniform and announcing itself at the door. Modern authoritarian politics can arrive through elections, through legitimate grievances, through economic anxiety and through politicians who understand that frightened people are often more willing to trade freedom for the promise of order. It can arrive wrapped in the language of patriotism, safety, and national renewal. It can even arrive through democratic institutions themselves, because winning an election does not automatically make everything that follows democratic.

The word “fascism” is often thrown around so casually that it has almost lost its analytical usefulness. But we should also be careful not to become so afraid of using the word incorrectly that we fail to recognize the patterns that make authoritarian politics possible. The concentration of power, the weakening of institutional checks, the demonization of minorities, the glorification of national identity, hostility towards independent media and civil society, political violence, contempt for democratic norms, and the idea that some citizens are more legitimately part of the nation than others are not random developments. They are warning signs. America is still formally classified as a free democracy, but its democratic health has deteriorated, while V-Dem's 2026 assessment places the United States among countries experiencing democratic backsliding and describes the speed of its deterioration as unusually rapid.

But perhaps the most interesting part of this political shift is the immigrant.

There is something almost absurd about how often immigrants have become the answer to questions they did not create. Housing is expensive? Immigrants. Wages are stagnant? Immigrants. Public services are struggling? Immigrants. Crime is frightening? Immigrants. The economy is changing? Immigrants. The future feels uncertain? Apparently, immigrants again. It is an incredibly convenient political trick because migration is visible, while the structural problems underneath it are complicated, slow, and often deeply embarrassing for governments to explain.

And Africans are sitting right in the middle of this conversation.

For decades, many of us have grown up with the idea that Europe, America, and other wealthy countries are the destination. Finish school. Get a degree. Find a scholarship. Get a work permit. Find a job. Leave. Build a better life. There is nothing inherently wrong with that dream. In fact, I would argue that wanting safety, dignity, opportunity, and financial stability is one of the most reasonable things a young person can want. But increasingly, the countries that young Africans hope to move to are becoming more politically hostile towards the very idea of migration.

Germany's AfD openly campaigns on restricting immigration and has pushed the concept of “remigration,” while migrants and minorities in Saxony-Anhalt have already expressed fear about what the party's electoral success could mean for their futures. Sweden, meanwhile, has introduced financial incentives for some non-EU residents to voluntarily leave the country, another example of how migration is moving from being an administrative issue to a central political question.

And this is where the Global North's political shift begins to have a very African consequence.

Europe does not only control its own borders. Through migration agreements and cooperation arrangements, European countries and the European Union have increasingly pressured African governments to strengthen border controls and accept returned migrants. In other words, the politics of migration are being exported. African countries are not simply watching Europe decide who gets to enter Europe; they can become part of the machinery used to keep people out. Research on European migration governance has also documented how these policies can reshape power relations in Africa and sometimes reinforce authoritarian practices.

That should make us pay attention.

Because Africa is not merely the place people are leaving. We are becoming part of the political negotiation around who is allowed to move, who gets to stay, who gets returned, and under what conditions. The same young Kenyan who sees Germany as an opportunity can become a statistic in a European election campaign. The same Kenyan nurse who is desperately needed here can be celebrated abroad when there is a labor shortage and condemned as a migrant when the political mood changes. The same African student who was welcomed when universities needed international fees can suddenly find themselves navigating a much more suspicious immigration system when voters decide that foreigners have become a political problem.

There is a particular cruelty in that.

We are wanted when our labor is useful, our money is useful, our skills are useful, or our resources are useful. But when politics becomes frightened, we can very quickly become the problem. And this is not only about migration. It is about power.

America and Europe have enormous influence over the global economic and political system. Their elections affect markets. Their trade policies affect developing economies. Their foreign policies influence wars, sanctions, and international institutions. Their immigration policies determine who can move and who cannot. Their companies compete for African resources, markets, and infrastructure. Their political ideas travel through media, technology, and culture. When powerful countries turn inward, become more nationalist, or become more transactional, countries like Kenya do not get to simply opt out.

This is especially important because Africa is entering a period in which we should be asking much harder questions about our position in the world.

The Global North is not the only place where democracy is under pressure. Africa has its own democratic struggles, and Kenya knows this intimately. Freedom House notes that Kenya continues to hold competitive multiparty elections, but corruption, police brutality, and intimidation remain serious problems. It also notes something particularly relevant to our generation: young Kenyans are increasingly dissatisfied with democracy not because they necessarily reject democratic principles, but because they do not believe institutions are delivering what democracy promises.

That distinction matters.

Because a democracy can technically exist while people stop believing in it.

You can have elections and still have citizens who feel powerless. You can have a constitution and still have institutions that fail people. You can have parliament, courts, political parties, and voting booths and still produce a generation that looks at the entire political system and says, “What exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

We saw young Kenyans protest because of this frustration. We have seen young people organize online, challenge government decisions, and demand accountability. Kenya's recent protests have demonstrated that the younger generation is not politically apathetic; if anything, it is deeply politically aware and increasingly unwilling to accept the old rules simply because they are old.

But there is another danger.

When people lose faith in democratic institutions, they can become vulnerable to the opposite of democracy.

That is the part I think we should be watching very carefully.

Because the same frustration that produces a young Kenyan saying, “These politicians are all the same,” can, under different circumstances, produce someone else saying, “We need someone who will just take control.” The same exhaustion with bureaucracy that makes people want government to work can become an appetite for a government that does not have to answer to anyone. The same anger at corruption can be redirected towards minorities, foreigners, opposition groups, or anyone conveniently labelled an enemy.

This is how the political mood travels.

Not because Kenya will suddenly become Germany. Not because America will dictate our future. Not because Africans are incapable of thinking for ourselves. It travels because political ideas cross borders. People watch. Politicians learn from each other. Campaign strategies are copied. Rhetoric travels faster than policy. And when a particular kind of politics starts winning elections in powerful countries, it becomes easier for politicians elsewhere to argue that perhaps we should try it too.

We should therefore be careful about assuming that what happens in the Global North stays in the Global North.

A world that becomes more hostile to immigrants affects African migration. A world that becomes more nationalist affects African trade. A world that becomes more transactional affects African diplomacy. A world that becomes less committed to democratic values makes it easier for African governments to justify their own erosion of democratic norms. And a world where powerful countries increasingly prioritize their own citizens, resources, and security interests forces African countries to become much more serious about negotiating their own interests rather than assuming that somebody else will protect them.

Kenya, in particular, cannot afford political innocence.

We are a strategically important country, but strategic importance does not automatically translate into bargaining power. We have a young population, a major regional economy, a significant diplomatic role, a valuable geographic position, and enormous human potential. But potential is not power until we know how to use it.

And perhaps that is the uncomfortable lesson in all of this.

We spend so much time looking at America and Europe as though their politics are happening in another universe. We talk about their elections, their presidents, their immigration debates, and their far-right parties as if they are characters in a television series that we happen to watch from Nairobi. But we are not outside the story. We are living in the same global system.

The young African who wants to migrate is part of this story. The Kenyan student applying for a European scholarship is part of this story. The nurse considering London is part of this story. The Kenyan business importing goods affected by American trade policy is part of this story. The voter deciding whether to register is part of this story. The young person who has stopped believing that politics has anything to do with them is part of this story too.

Which is why I am less interested in asking whether America has “become fascist” than I am in asking what happens when the world becomes comfortable with fascistic ideas.

What happens when nationalism becomes more attractive than solidarity? When do borders become more important than people? When are democratic institutions tolerated only when they produce the outcome we want? When governments discover that fear is a very effective political currency? When citizens become so tired of uncertainty that they are willing to hand someone enormous power in exchange for the promise that life will finally feel orderly again?

And what happens to Africa when the countries with the most power in the global system begin answering those questions differently?

I don't think the answer is to romanticize democracy either. Democracy has failed people. Western democracies have failed people. African democracies have failed people. Governments have lied, institutions have protected the powerful, and ordinary people have often been asked to participate in systems that do not seem particularly interested in them.

But the answer to a broken democracy cannot simply be to become comfortable with less democracy.

That is the trap.

Because authoritarianism often looks attractive before it becomes expensive. It looks efficient before it becomes cruel. It looks decisive before you realise that the same power you wanted used against your political enemies can eventually be used against you.

And perhaps this is why what is happening in America, Germany, and across parts of Europe should concern us here in Kenya.

Not because we need to save them.

Because we need to learn.

The world is changing, and the old assumption that every country is naturally moving towards greater openness, liberalism, and democracy is looking increasingly naive. Some countries are moving backwards. Some are becoming more suspicious of outsiders. Some are becoming more comfortable with political strongmen. Some are discovering that fear, anger, and nationalism are remarkably effective ways to win votes.

We should be asking ourselves what kind of world we want to live in before that world is decided for us.

Because the future of democracy is not only being negotiated in Washington or Berlin. It is being negotiated in Nairobi too, every time we decide whether our institutions matter, whether our votes matter, whether our neighbors belong, whether our leaders should be questioned, and whether political power should have limits.

Maybe the real question is not whether the world is choosing fascism over democracy. Maybe the question is how quietly we are allowing democracy to become optional. And that, frankly, is a much more frightening question.