The Return of Authoritarian Regimes

The numbers are stark. The 2026 Democracy Report[1] by the V-Dem Institute in Gothenburg, published last March, paints a grim picture: 74% of humanity now lives under an authoritarian regime. For the first time in half a century, more people live in closed autocracies (28%) than in all liberal and electoral democracies combined (26%). Only 7% of the world’s population still lives in a fully liberal democracy. In 2025, forty-four countries simultaneously became autocratic. A record. The United States itself has shifted from the “liberal democracy” category to that of “electoral democracy.”

This drift is no mere fluke. It is fueled by three identifiable drivers.

First, industrialized disinformation. Social media platforms, driven by algorithms designed to boost emotional engagement, have turned fake news into a thriving industry. Disinformation is no longer an isolated incident; it is an infrastructure. As the Fondation de France noted during its Parliamentary Meetings in May 2026[2], this saturation produces “information fatigue” that erodes democratic participation itself.

Second, the organized challenge to science. Climate, vaccines, artificial intelligence, biodiversity: scientific consensus is becoming, in public debate, just one “opinion” among many. Doubt, which is the very essence of the scientific method, is being weaponized against science itself. Knowledge is being stripped of its authority, leaving every citizen adrift without a compass.

Finally, the collapse of authoritarian boundaries. What once seemed unspeakable is now spoken. What once seemed unthinkable is now being organized. The bulwarks that our societies had patiently erected—separation of powers, judicial independence, freedom of the press, minority rights—are crumbling one after another, sometimes through perfectly legal votes. This is the “autocratic legalism” identified by political scientists. Democracy being used to dismantle democracy.

In this landscape, the temptation to withdraw is strong. Every man for himself, my clan first, fear of the other elevated to a political strategy. Yet—and this is where we must return to the origins of Homo sapiens—it is precisely this strategy that led to the Neanderthals’ downfall.

 

A lesson from the depths of time

There is a thought experiment on which anthropologists agree and that we can take seriously. Why did the Neanderthals disappear, while Sapiens—their biologically comparable, sometimes less robust cousins—thrived? A fruitful hypothesis, reported by Véra Nikolski and Nicolas Pichoff in Why There Are No Amazons[3], argues that our species survived not through strength, but through organization—thanks to a division of labor, risk-sharing, and the circulation of skills and goods among group members. What Sapiens invented was not so much a technique as a bond. Cooperation, reciprocity, and the collective management of vulnerability are not moral embellishments tacked onto our humanity; they are the very conditions of its emergence and persistence.

The groups that were able to share the risks, protect what was most precious for the future, and organize tangible solidarity left descendants. The others died out, in silence, without a spectacular battle. The selection was demographic, slow, almost imperceptible, and relentless.

What holds true for Paleolithic societies holds true, on a different level, for civilizations. A society that dismantles its bonds of solidarity, that values the “every man for himself” mentality, that regards giving as a weakness and fraternity as naivety, does not collapse suddenly: it dies out through attrition.

 

Seneca, Mauss: The Forgotten Grammar of Connection

Long before anthropology formalized these insights, two thinkers had set us on the right track.

Seneca, in De Beneficiis[4] depicts the three Graces entwined in a circle: one gives, another receives, the third returns. Three moments of a single, inseparable movement that form the very fabric of civic life. The order of beneficence demands it. One must know how to give in moderation, receive with dignity, and return without calculation. To break the circle, to refuse to give, to disdain receiving, to forget to return—is to dissolve the city. Seneca, a witness to the final century of a decaying Roman Republic, knew what he was talking about. When social bonds are reduced to mere transactions, power inevitably becomes brutal.

Twenty centuries later, Marcel Mauss revisited this insight in The Gift (1925)[5]. Studying the Kwakiutl potlatch, he demonstrated that in all human societies—not just “primitive” ones—the gift is never gratuitous in the sense of being arbitrary. It creates an obligation. It establishes a debt of gratitude that binds the community together. Giving, receiving, returning: this threefold movement, writes Mauss, is “the bedrock” upon which our societies rest. He even saw in it a way out for his own era, even then!

Faced with the rise of authoritarianism. Organized generosity, he said in essence, is what distinguishes a society from a jungle.

Yet our era, in turn, finds itself in the same position as Seneca’s and Mauss’s, compelled to rediscover a grammar it is in the process of forgetting.

 

Philanthropy as an Antiviral

Let’s be clear about the medical metaphor. A virus thrives when it encounters a weakened host. It fails when the body has trained defenses. “Illiberal” tendencies thrive on three weaknesses: the isolation of individuals, mistrust of shared institutions, and the collapse of a shared sense of purpose. Philanthropy, understood in the broadest sense—generosity, patronage, volunteering, community engagement, and civic mobilization—directly addresses these three areas.

Against isolation, it forges connections. When a patron funds a cultural center in a rural area, when a volunteer supports a migrant, when a foundation backs an independent local media outlet, it is not merely a service rendered; it is a bond being formed, concrete proof that society still holds together through something other than fear.

Against distrust, it proves itself through action. A democracy is credible only if it keeps its promises on a daily basis. Yet the state, facing budget cuts everywhere, can no longer do everything. Philanthropy, when rigorous and transparent, demonstrates through action that there is a third way between the failing state and the indifferent market: that of a society that takes charge of itself, without waiting for permission.

In the face of the collapse of meaning, it re-inscribes the act of giving within a long chain. The patron does not act for immediate personal gain; rather, he passes on, as Seneca urged and as Mauss described. They embrace the temporality of Sapiens—that of slow, cultural selection—knowing that the impact of cooperation is not measured by the fiscal year but across generations.

The V-Dem report highlights that the countries most resistant to “autocratization” are precisely those where civil society remains robust, organized, and well-funded. The European Commission was spot on when it launched its European Democracy Shield[6] and its European Center for Democratic Resilience in 2026, one of the pillars of which is explicitly support for philanthropic civil society. Keeping democracy alive now requires, in the words of the Fondation de France, active support for pluralism, media literacy, and a culture of debate. Philanthropy is no longer just charity: it is democratic infrastructure.

 

A point of concern: the concentration of philanthropy

However, we must highlight a dangerous trend threatening philanthropy itself, which, if left unchecked, could turn the remedy against the very evil it claims to cure.

In the United States, about 1% of donors now account for nearly half of all private giving. A few very large foundations, often backed by astronomical personal fortunes, wield more influence—in terms of their capacity for action—than entire government departments. This trend is spreading, to varying degrees, throughout the Western world, including France. The phenomenon is not inherently reprehensible. Without these substantial commitments, entire sectors of medical research, culture, and emergency humanitarian aid would not survive. Many of these philanthropists act with integrity, transparency, and a keen sense of responsibility.

But too great an asymmetry carries with it a risk that must be faced head-on: that of a billionaire philanthropy which, without intending to, would decide—in place of the many—which causes deserve attention, which problems deserve to be addressed, and which voices deserve to be heard. When giving becomes the preserve of a select few, the dance of the Three Graces loses its balance. A small circle gives a great deal, a multitude receives, and the third Grace—the one who gives back, who passes on, who closes the cycle—struggles to find her place. Yet it is precisely this widespread, distributed, grassroots circulation that transforms a society into a true community of reciprocity rather than a mere top-down chain of charity.

In contrast to this concentration, we must consider what might be called the “anthill”: philanthropy by the masses, consisting of modest but consistent giving, community-based volunteering, and daily involvement in civic organizations. The ten euros donated each month to a local nonprofit, the hours spent on a street outreach patrol, the bequest from a retiree to a cause close to their heart, the fundraising drive by a neighborhood committee—this is democratic philanthropy. It doesn’t make the headlines, it doesn’t have university lecture halls named after it, but it weaves the strongest fabric. Sapiens, him again, didn’t survive thanks to a few exceptional hunters. He endured thanks to the cooperation of everyone, from the most skilled to the most modest, each contributing according to their means.

The vitality of a philanthropic society is therefore measured less by the total amount raised than by the number of its donors and volunteers, the diversity of its contributors, and the variety of causes supported. Great fortunes play an indispensable role, but they cannot have a monopoly. The challenge, for public authorities as well as for the sector itself, is to protect and stimulate the ecosystem of small donors just as much as to honor the major ones—through tax policies, by fostering a culture of generosity starting in schools, by recognizing volunteer work, and by placing trust in grassroots organizations. Only at this cost will philanthropy remain a democratic antidote and not, by tragic irony, become one of the very channels of concentration it seeks to combat.

 

A Cycle to Be Repeated

What can we do, in practical terms? The lesson of the Three Graces—giving, receiving, and returning—is not just a slogan. It is a discipline.

Giving means breaking the financial silence. In France, companies, wealthy individuals, and even modest contributors have powerful tax mechanisms (philanthropy, tax-exempt foundations, endowment funds) that transform every euro committed into collective leverage. Giving also means giving time, expertise, and attention—resources even scarcer than money.

Receiving—that is, accepting—is undoubtedly the most difficult act for our modern societies. To receive without shame requires recognizing interdependence as a strength, not as a humiliation. Organizations, media outlets, researchers, and artists who accept philanthropic support must be able to do so with their heads held high, while maintaining their independence—what Mauss called the “freedom of the recipient.”

To give back, finally, is to make it bear fruit. Those who have received must, in turn, pass it on—through the quality of their work, by training those who follow, by expanding the circle. The cycle never stops. Each generation is a temporary link in it.

On a global scale, we are facing a test of cohesion. The human groups that, in the coming decades, will know how to maintain their solidarity, fund their counter-powers, support their independent media, protect their researchers, and welcome their vulnerable, will endure. The others will be swept away by the brutal slope.

Philanthropy is not a mere add-on for prosperous times. In a world that is growing harsher, it is the antiviral, the vaccine, the civilizational prophylaxis—provided it remains everyone’s responsibility, and not the privilege of a few. Let us stay in the circle.

Antoine Vaccaro.

 

Footnotes :

[1] https://www.v-dem.net/documents/75/V-Dem_Institute_Democracy_Report_2026_lowres.pdf

[2] https://www.fondationdefrance.org/fr/rencontres-parlementaires-2026

[3] https://www.fayard.fr/livre/pourquoi-les-amazones-nexistent-pas-9782213733395/

[4] https://www.lesbelleslettres.com/livre/9782251459561/le-de-beneficiis-de-seneque-sa-signification-

[5] https://www.puf.com/essai-sur-le-don-0

[6] https://luxembourg.representation.ec.europa.eu/actualites-et-evenements/actualites/le-bouclier-europeen-pour-la-democratie-et-la-strategie-de-lue-pour-la-societe-civile-ouvrent-la-2025-11-12_fr

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Antoine Vaccaro :

He holds a Ph.D. in Organizational Sciences—Management of the Non-Profit Sector—from Paris-Dauphine University. After a career with major nongovernmental organizations and communications firms, such as the Fondation de France, Médecins du Monde, and TBWA, he now serves as president of Force For Good and Cerphi (Center for the Study and Research on Philanthropy).

He also serves in various administrative roles within associations and has co-founded several professional organizations promoting private funding for causes of public interest, including the Association Française des Fundraisers, Euconsult, and the ESSEC Chair in Philanthropy. He has also contributed to the drafting of the code of ethics for organizations that rely on public generosity.

Finally, he is the author of several books and articles on philanthropy and fundraising.

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• Storm warning – Alain Boinet
• Interview with Maria Groenewald, VOICE Director : a plea in favour of European humanitarian aid
• The Sahel region, extensions Southward and New emerging Jihadist Fronts : A Deep Dive into the W-Arly-Pendjari Complex – Salomée Languille
• How vases break – Cyprien Fabre