The Normalization of Autocracy

How We're Surrendering Democracy in the Name of Civility

The White House Correspondents Association has just capitulated to pressure from the Trump administration by removing comedian Amber Ruffin from its annual dinner. Their stated reason? “To ensure the focus is not on the politics of division.” This seemingly minor capitulation reveals something profound about how democracy dies—not through dramatic confrontation, but through a thousand small surrenders dressed up as civility, bridge-building, and institutional preservation.

Let's be absolutely clear about what happened: A comedian called members of an administration implementing policies that deport people to face torture without due process “murderers” who aren't “human beings.” The administration demanded she be removed. And instead of defending the principle of free expression—supposedly the cornerstone value of a press organization—the WHCA unanimously backed down.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And no amount of high-minded rhetoric about “re-envisioning our dinner tradition” can disguise what this represents: the normalization of autocracy through the quiet surrender of institutions that should be democracy's strongest defenders.

This pattern has become distressingly familiar. Institutions faced with authoritarian pressure justify their capitulation as pragmatism, as bridge-building, as focusing on what “really matters.” But with each surrender, the space for democratic resistance narrows. With each concession, autocratic behavior becomes more normalized. With each institutional compromise, the cost of standing firm increases.

What makes this particular surrender so revealing is how it exposes the moral compromise at the heart of institutional responses to democratic backsliding. The WHCA isn't some random organization—it's a body explicitly dedicated to protecting press freedom. Its very purpose is to defend the right to speak truth to power. Yet when actually confronted with power's displeasure, they didn't just modify their approach—they unanimously abandoned it.

The language of their surrender is particularly telling. By framing a comedian's criticism of an administration implementing objectively cruel policies as “the politics of division,” they implicitly position resistance to autocracy as equivalent to autocracy itself. This both-sides framing, where calling out authoritarian behavior is treated as equally problematic as the behavior itself, reveals a profound moral confusion about what democracy requires.

Democracy doesn't depend on everyone being polite to each other. It doesn't require critics of power to moderate their language so that those in power don't feel uncomfortable. What democracy absolutely requires is that power be held accountable—that its abuses be named clearly, that institutions stand firm against authoritarian pressure, that the right to criticize those in power be defended even when that criticism is harsh.

What's most disturbing about the WHCA's capitulation is how it reflects a broader pattern of institutional surrender. From media organizations that prioritize access over accountability, to universities abandoning academic freedom in the face of political pressure, to corporations quietly accommodating authoritarian demands to maintain market position—our democratic institutions are failing at precisely the moment when they should be standing firm.

This dynamic creates what political scientists call “democratic erosion”—a process where democracy isn't overthrown in a dramatic coup, but gradually hollowed out from within as its institutional guardians surrender its core principles one by one. Each surrender is justified as a practical necessity, as avoiding unnecessary conflict, as focusing on what “really matters.” But what could matter more than defending democracy itself?

The WHCA's decision reflects a profound misunderstanding of the current moment. They appear to believe that by removing a potential source of conflict, they're preserving their institutional role. But in an autocratic system, institutions don't maintain their independence by accommodation—they survive only as long as they're useful to power. By demonstrating their willingness to self-censor in response to government pressure, the WHCA hasn't preserved its independence; it has signaled its fundamental malleability.

What makes this particularly dangerous is how it shifts the Overton window of acceptable government behavior. When an administration can successfully pressure a press organization to remove a critic, that success becomes a precedent for more aggressive interventions. Today it's removing a comedian from a dinner; tomorrow it's demanding the firing of reporters whose coverage is deemed unfair. Each successful intervention makes the next one easier.

To frame this capitulation as “bridge-building” rather than surrendering to power is, to use a term I don't employ lightly, gaslighting. It's attempting to convince us that defending basic democratic principles is somehow divisive, that holding power accountable is somehow partisan, that standing firm against authoritarian pressure is somehow counterproductive.

This isn't bridge-building—it's burning the bridges of democratic accountability while pretending to strengthen them. It's abandoning the very principles that make a free press possible while claiming to celebrate them. It's normalizing autocracy while pretending to preserve democracy.

The institutions we've trusted to defend democratic norms are failing us—not because they're being violently overthrown, but because they're voluntarily surrendering their independence in the name of civility, access, and institutional preservation. They're choosing the appearance of normality over the reality of resistance, prioritizing their short-term institutional comfort over their long-term democratic purpose.

What's perhaps most distressing is how quickly this surrender happened. One complaint from a White House official about harsh criticism, and an institution ostensibly dedicated to press freedom unanimously abandons its plans. When resistance collapses this easily, what hope is there for holding the line against more significant authoritarian pressures?

We must recognize these small surrenders for what they are: not pragmatic accommodations, but moral abdications that cumulatively threaten democracy itself. Every institution that bends to authoritarian pressure makes it harder for others to stand firm. Every principle abandoned in the name of civility weakens the foundations of democratic governance.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And no amount of institutional compromise will protect democracy if the institutions themselves abandon the principles they were created to defend. The path to autocracy isn't paved with dramatic confrontations but with quiet capitulations justified as reasonable accommodations to power.

The WHCA's surrender is a warning—not just about a dinner or a comedian, but about how democracy dies. Not with a bang, but with a careful, consensus-driven press release explaining why principled resistance to power is simply too divisive to maintain.