A Self-Critique of the International Pro-Democracy Field

The democracy field consistently over-personalizes resistance movements. Media narratives and international advocacy often revolve around charismatic opposition leaders, heroic dissidents, or symbolic figures confronting authoritarian rulers. Democratic change becomes framed as a contest between individuals, a virtuous challenger against a tyrant, rather than a transformation in the distribution of power within society. This emphasis on charismatic leadership also influences where funding, political allies, and media attention flow. The incentive for domestic actors to become the international face of the revolution therefore becomes far greater than the incentive to patiently build broad coalitions or create the conditions for defections from within the regime.

We often complain that opposition forces in authoritarian countries are unable to unite. But we should ask ourselves a difficult question: Have we, the international democracy field, created the incentives that turn pro-democracy work into a competition for international funding, visibility, and recognition?

Strategic nonviolent movements succeed for a different reason. In many authoritarian systems, political parties are weakened, restricted, or banned entirely. Under those conditions the alternative should be obvious: Authoritarian regimes fall when power shifts away from the state and toward organized civil society. Movements that depend on a single leader or a single ideology rarely attract the broad participation and the defections from regime supporters that are necessary for a peaceful transition.

Research on civil resistance, and to be honest, the lived experience of those of us who have been able to succeed against an authoritarian government, consistently shows that successful movements mobilize large segments of society, build broad coalitions across different (not unique) social and ideological lines, and organize disciplined noncooperation with authoritarian institutions. Leadership matters, but it is not the only decisive factor. Movements win not because one leader defeats a dictator, but because organized citizens increase allies in the local spectrum and withdraw the cooperation that authoritarian regimes depend upon to govern.

When democratic struggle is framed primarily through individuals rather than organized civic power, both the analysis and the strategies that follow become distorted.

A related problem concerns where resources are directed. International donors and governments frequently channel significant funding toward political figures in exile who serve as visible representatives of opposition to authoritarian regimes. These actors often become the primary interlocutors for policymakers, philanthropists, and international media.

Here I want to add a personal note: Exiled political leaders play an important role in advocacy and international pressure. I know and am friends with many of them and admire the work they carry while being in exile, which many indicate is an experience as painful as being in prison. I also understand how it is easier for international actors to build relationships and provide support to actors they get to know, meet with often, and trust. There is a high value to their work and the sacrifice they are making as international spokespeople for their cause and countries, especially in this era of transnational repression.

However, more often than not, they are fundamentally different actors from domestic civic movements operating inside authoritarian systems. Political party actors and civic movements play different roles in democratic change. In many cases, those in exile are brilliant political leaders whose political ambitions were stolen by the regime. At the same time, because of the nature of leading political parties, they are not necessarily the first advocates for on-the-ground, horizontal, leaderless movement building and mobilization.

In more extreme cases, their initiatives can even harm local strategies due to a lack of communication or coordination with actors inside the country. This is an important nuance to keep in mind: Supporting an exile-led project is not necessarily the same as supporting the movements currently mobilizing on the ground. Yet funding structures frequently ignore or blur this distinction.

As a result, substantial resources are directed toward advocacy abroad (conferences, international forums, communications initiatives, and media campaigns) while comparatively less investment reaches the civic organizations, grassroots networks, and domestic coalitions operating on the ground, often away from the public eye. In some cases, diaspora actors may unintentionally redirect international attention and funding toward initiatives that strengthen their political visibility rather than the organizational capacity of movements within the country.

This reflects a structural confusion within the democracy field. Political actors and civic movements play different roles in democratic change, but the funding ecosystem often treats them as interchangeable. In reality, the ability to mobilize society domestically is what ultimately determines whether authoritarian regimes can be challenged effectively, or at the very minimum, without foreign international intervention.

A third problem is the tendency to fund isolated tactics instead of long-term strategy. Many democracy support initiatives focus on discrete activities: public campaigns, digital tools, advocacy efforts, protests, or communications projects. These activities are indeed valuable, but when they are not embedded within a broader strategic framework, their impact remains limited.

Successful civil resistance movements are not collections of spontaneous protests. They are strategic campaigns developed over time. They involve preparation, coalition-building, disciplined organization, and carefully sequenced escalation. Movements that succeed often spend years building networks, training activists, developing alternative institutions, and identifying the vulnerabilities of authoritarian systems.

As someone who has worked inside such campaigns, I have learned that strategy determines not only when to mobilize, but when not to. Once a movement has a strategy, discipline often matters more than spontaneity, and movements fail not because people lack courage, but because they lack the strategic preparation required to sustain pressure over time. Part of the reason for this gap is the funding cycle of the pro-democracy field itself, which is often better suited to reporting deadlines and single projects than to the long-term commitment required to build broad coalitions and prepare strategy. This kind of work may sound much less “sexy,” but I can promise you it is far more effective.

This is precisely the strategic framework articulated by scholars such as Gene Sharp and demonstrated in numerous historical cases of successful nonviolent struggle. Strategic planning, not spontaneous mobilization, is what allows civil resistance to generate sustained pressure on authoritarian regimes.

Yet funding structures often reward short-term, visible activities rather than the slower, less visible work of building organized civic power.

Finally, the democracy field systematically under-learns from successful movements. When democratic breakthroughs occur, they are often celebrated as inspiring stories rather than analyzed as strategic cases. Attention quickly shifts to the next crisis without extracting the lessons that made those victories possible.

This leads to a recurring cycle: Movements reinvent tactics that have already been tested elsewhere, while the strategic knowledge embedded in successful cases remains underexamined and under-transmitted. 

A simple principle should guide the field: A nonviolent victory must be analyzed, not celebrated. If we fail to understand why movements succeed, we cannot replicate the conditions that made success possible.

If the goal is truly to strengthen democratic resilience against authoritarianism, the pro-democracy field must rethink some of its underlying assumptions. Authoritarian regimes do not fall because of compelling narratives, international advocacy, or the visibility of individual leaders. They fall when societies become organized enough to withdraw the cooperation that authoritarian power depends upon.

This means shifting attention away from personalities and toward civic power. It means investing more resources in domestic movements and less in symbolic representation abroad. It means prioritizing long-term strategic capacity over isolated tactics and short-term projects. And it means treating successful movements not as inspirational stories, but as laboratories of democratic practice whose lessons must be studied and applied.

Democratic change ultimately depends on the ability of societies to organize themselves. Strengthening that capacity, through strategy, education, coalition-building, and disciplined collective action, should be at the center of any serious effort to defend democracy in the years ahead. Until the pro-democracy field aligns its investments with this reality, it will continue to fight authoritarian systems with tools that are insufficient to defeat them, or even worse, allow foreign military intervention to appear as the “best” option available - which has, so far, not proven to be true.