The Long Farewell to Liberalism

If one wanted to get into the right mood during the last papal conclave, a quick return to the Don Camillo and Peppone films might have done the trick. More than a tour through post-war Catholicism, these represent an entire era of political civility.

A priest and a communist mayor, ever at each other’s throats—until it was time to share a drink, fix a bridge, or fend off something worse. Their rhetoric was fierce, but their uneasy alliance worked; it so happened the duo made the audience roar with laughter.

That sense of preventing open conflict—of having pluralism within a shared moral —was a cornerstone of the liberal post-war order. Freedom of speech, even for ideas one found intolerable, was not merely a value. It was a structural pillar, one that distinguished the democratic West from the coercive models of fascism and communism.

That distinction is fading. The new question is no longer whether speech should be free, but who decides which speech qualifies as legitimate. Across the West, restrictions on expression are returning—if not through formal bans, then via regulation, deplatforming, and algorithmic design. Censorship, once the villain of liberal lore, is staging a quiet comeback—but fret not, now with better UI and in a cheerful tone.

Between Convenience and Control

For decades, liberalism was defined by its commitment to individual autonomy and open debate. But the conditions that once supported that model—relative homogeneity, institutional trust, and agreed upon cultural narrative—have eroded. What’s emerging in its place is a new political logic: more technocratic, more managerial, and less tolerant of dissent.

Admiration for efficiency gained by having an authoritarian system of decision-making is no longer confined to fringe thinkers. It has entered the mainstream. In China, 10,000 kilometres of motorway are built each year. In Germany, rebuilding the collapsed Carolabrücke in Dresden may not begin until 2027, with its completion possible only until well into the 2030s. Beijing, by contrast, once replaced an entire motorway overpass in 43 hours. And that’s not a typo.

Western governments criticise China’s surveillance infrastructure—and simultaneously emulate it. France used facial recognition during pension protests. Bologna’s “Smart Citizen Wallet” awards civic points for proper bin-sorting and punctual train use—much like a loyalty card for democracy. These are framed as innovations, not coercion. But they signal a shift: the liberal state is beginning to adopt tools it once condemned.

Recent crises—from the pandemic to climate change and war—have accelerated this turn. Emergency politics has become the new normal. The logic is familiar: to protect the greater good, rights must be sacrificed. Lockdowns, digital censorship, and wartime rationing are no longer exceptions. They are templates to be followed and implemented.

So too with political speech. In Germany, the domestic intelligence agency classified the AfD as a confirmed extremist organisation. While legally defensible, the timing and consequences are unmistakably strategic. With this move, the state has redefined who can be part of democratic life. Satirists and critics have been raided and gotten suspended sentences for mocking ministers. In such a climate, even slight ridicule becomes suspect.

Online, freedom of speech now comes with terms, conditions, and a monetisation clause. YouTube requires creators to follow 14 rules—four more than Moses ever promulgated. Avoid controversy, be inclusive, stay advertiser-friendly. One Catholic association once spent €9,500 to restore its access after being blocked without explanation. The invisible costs of speaking out—a loss in audience reach, demonetisation, platform bans—create a powerful incentive to stay quiet.

SK telecom demonstrating several uses of AI Camera person detection and face recognition to prevent accidents, collect data and enhance security during the Mobile World Congress (MWC). Photo: Joan Cros/NurPhoto via Getty Images.

The Technocratic Horizon

What is happening is not a return to overt authoritarianism, but a slow substitution. In place of liberalism’s unruly pluralism, we are entering a more curated, compliant order—one built not on brute force, but behavioural nudging and institutional containment.

Technological change accelerates this drift. AI, facial recognition, and predictive modelling are now central to policymaking. The trade-offs aren’t always visible. Want robotaxis? Expect facial recognition at every crossing. Want curated content? Accept that your views may never trend. To those in power, this isn’t tyranny. It’s a matter of logistics.

This evolution is not the result of a single plan. It is an adaptation. Liberal democracy, having exhausted its capacity to mediate conflict, now seeks to eliminate it altogether—by narrowing the spectrum of acceptable thought. What was once a system of competing visions may become a framework for managed consensus.

This is not because anyone demanded it. It is because those who built or allowed the systems—social, digital, political—we take for granted, no longer tolerate the mess they create.

And so, the farewell to liberalism will not be abrupt. It will come in short bursts: one regulation, one delayed bridge, one filtered search result at a time. It won’t feel like a boot to the face, but like a safety blanket. And when the final curtain falls, we may look back and realise: it was never about liberty or control. It was about convenience. And convenience won out.

In that light, the end of liberalism is not a failure. It is the inevitable conclusion of a chapter—and the quiet beginning of whatever comes next.

Statement

Liberalism isn’t collapsing—it’s outmoded. Systems that prioritise efficiency, security, and algorithmic order are bound to take its place. The foundational ideals of open debate and individual autonomy are giving way to technocratic governance and managed consensus. Crises have normalised exceptional measures, while digital platforms and state institutions now define acceptable speech through subtle but powerful constraints. Surveillance is rebranded as innovation; censorship arrives with user-friendly design. This isn’t a return to authoritarianism, but a drift toward curated compliance. The end of liberalism will be sold as convenience—most will welcome it as a liberation from the responsibility of having freedom.

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