The West’s revolutionary moment: When stability becomes the exception
In 1917, while Germany fought Russia in a devastating conflict, revolutionary conditions erupted within the Russian Empire, ultimately toppling the Tsarist regime and reshaping the global order. Today, we may be witnessing what I call a “reverse 1917” scenario: As Russia wages a proxy war against NATO in Ukraine, it is the Western nations themselves that appear increasingly susceptible to revolutionary upheaval, while Russia maintains relative internal stability.
This observation is not made lightly, nor from any sense of satisfaction. As always, one points out problems so they can be solved, not because one enjoys the trouble they are causing.
The most telling indicator of approaching revolutionary conditions is not economic hardship alone, but the profound disconnect between governing elites and significant portions of their populations. Across Western Europe, we observe governments that have lost the fundamental requirement of political legitimacy: The acceptance by the governed that their rulers have the right to rule.
In Britain, this crisis manifests most acutely. The country faces what external observers increasingly recognise as potential for being the “first domino to fall”. The economic fundamentals are alarming: British government bonds trade at yields reflecting diminished international confidence, energy prices remain substantially higher than continental European levels, and the fiscal position appears increasingly precarious.
Yet the economic vulnerabilities, while serious, pale in comparison to the social tensions that have been building for years. The civil unrest following the Southport tragedy in July 2024, in which three little girls were stabbed to death, revealed the depth of popular frustration with what many perceive as a two-tier approach to law enforcement and cultural preservation. When a government appears more concerned with policing mean words on social media than addressing the underlying grievances of its citizens, it signals a dangerous detachment from political reality.
The riots that spread across England in the summer of 2024 were not isolated incidents of hooliganism, but rather what historians might later recognize as rehearsals for more significant upheaval. The speed with which unrest spread from Southport to dozens of towns and cities, the targeting of symbols of state authority, and the counter-mobilisation by both sides revealed a society increasingly divided along fundamental questions of national identity and belonging.
More troubling than the immediate violence was the government’s response. Rather than addressing the underlying concerns that fuel popular discontent – concerns about uncontrolled immigration, cultural transformation, and economic displacement – the Starmer government doubled down on what many perceive as the very policies that created the crisis. This represents precisely the kind of tone-deafness that historically characterises regimes approaching their terminal phase.
The appointment of individuals like David Lammy, now deputy prime minister, to positions of significant authority, despite well-documented deficiencies in basic historical knowledge, exemplifies this broader pattern. When a government places ideological conformity above competence in key positions, it signals both institutional decay and a concerning detachment from the practical requirements of statecraft.
History teaches us that revolutionary conditions, once they reach a certain threshold, can spread with remarkable velocity. The Arab Spring offers a relevant example: Few predicted that a single act of self-immolation by a Tunisian street vendor would trigger regime changes across North Africa and the Middle East within months. The speed of these transformations caught both local elites and international observers completely unprepared.
Similarly, in 1989, virtually no one anticipated that the Berlin Wall would fall within a year, let alone that the Soviet Union would cease to exist by 1991. These events remind us that political systems can appear stable for decades before collapsing with startling rapidity when underlying legitimacy erodes beyond a critical point.
The conditions that preceded these historical examples – economic stagnation, elite incompetence, popular alienation, and the emergence of alternative organising principles – are increasingly visible across Western Europe today. The difference is that Western governments, unlike their authoritarian counterparts, cannot rely on simple repression to maintain order indefinitely.
The approaching Remembrance Day observances will likely serve as a crucial test of the British government’s ability to maintain civil order while respecting the sentiments of its indigenous population. If, as in previous years, pro-Palestinian demonstrations are permitted to dominate central London on a day traditionally reserved for honouring British war dead, the reaction from the broader population may be more intense than authorities anticipate.
This is not merely about competing narratives of victimhood or international solidarity. At its core, it represents a fundamental question about whose country Britain actually is, and whose values and traditions the state exists to protect. When significant portions of the population conclude that their government prioritises foreign concerns over domestic cohesion, the social contract begins to dissolve.
Britain is not alone in facing these challenges. President Macron’s approval ratings hover around 15 per cent, while his grandiose pronouncements about sending European troops to Ukraine ring increasingly hollow to French citizens struggling with domestic security and economic concerns. The gap between elite preoccupations and popular priorities has rarely been so pronounced.
Germany faces similar dynamics, with the established parties increasingly unable to address public concerns about immigration, economic competitiveness, and cultural identity. The rise of the Alternative for Germany (AfD) reflects not simply protest voting, but a fundamental realignment as traditional parties prove incapable of adapting to changed circumstances.
Across the continent, the pattern repeats: Governing elites consumed by abstract ideological projects while their populations grapple with concrete challenges to their economic security and cultural continuity.
Revolutionary situations arise not when conditions are at their worst, but when the gap between popular expectations and institutional performance becomes unbridgeable. Today’s Western governments find themselves in the peculiar position of having neither the competence to solve pressing problems nor the legitimacy to ask for patience while they learn on the job.
This creates what political scientists call a “legitimation crisis” – a condition where formal democratic procedures continue to operate, but increasingly large segments of the population no longer accept the outcomes as binding. In such circumstances, politics becomes a zero-sum conflict over fundamental questions rather than a positive-sum process of collective problem-solving.
The danger is compounded by the interconnected nature of modern European societies. Economic integration, shared media ecosystems, and similar demographic and cultural challenges mean that instability in one major European country would likely spread to others with unprecedented speed. The refugee crisis of 2015 demonstrated how quickly developments in one region can destabilise political arrangements across the continent.
Perhaps the most dangerous aspect of the current situation is the refusal by Western political establishments to acknowledge the gravity of their predicament. Like the Bourbons who learned nothing and forgot nothing, contemporary European elites seem incapable of the kind of fundamental course correction that might restore their legitimacy before it becomes impossible.
Instead, we see doubling down on the very policies that created current problems: More immigration despite popular opposition, more climate regulations despite economic costs, more international interventions despite domestic priorities, and more restrictions on speech despite growing popular resentment.
This is not a sustainable trajectory. Historical experience suggests that when established political systems lose the ability to adapt to changing circumstances, they tend to be replaced by alternatives that may be less predictable and potentially more dangerous. I fear that those who think we can somehow return to the comforts of the 1990s will be in for a rough awakening.