No fewer than 67 countries with a total population of about 3.4bn people have already held national elections this year. Those with another 440m people will allow their citizens to have their say before the end of 2024. At the start of the year The Economist suggested this “vote-a-rama” would be a “a giant test of nerves”. After all, over the past two decades freedoms—such as those for voters, the press and minorities—have declined in more countries than in those where they have increased for each of the past 18 years, according to Freedom House, an American think-tank. One in three people voting in 2024 lives in a country where the quality of elections has measurably deteriorated in the past five years.

So what is evident so far, given that almost 90% of votes around the world have been cast and tallied? Democracy has proved to be reasonably resilient in some 42 countries whose elections were free, with solid voter turnout, limited election manipulation and violence, and evidence of incumbent governments being tamed. Yet there are signs of new dangers, including the rise of a new generation of innovative tech-savvy autocrats, voter fragmentation and exiting leaders trying to rule from beyond the political grave.

Start with the good news. Voter turnout has risen for the first time in two decades, based on the average for all countries that have held elections, signalling engagement by citizens in the political process. Among places categorised as “full democracies” by our sister company, the EIU, turnout held steady, and in “flawed democracies” it rose sharply, by three percentage points (see charts 1 and 2). Turnout increased in many countries including France, Indonesia, South Korea and Mexico, and even in the world’s dreariest poll, the European Parliamentary election, which had the highest participation rate since 2004.

A second reason for optimism is that efforts to undermine elections often failed. Going into 2024 many observers worried that disinformation campaigns fuelled by social media and artificial intelligence might dupe voters. “I don’t see a lot of evidence for that,” says Kevin Casas-Zamora, of the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, an intergovernmental organisation. Subversion by hostile states seems to have a limited effect. In Taiwan voters chose William Lai Ching-te to be president, despite Chinese intimidation. Moldova has been busy countering Russian subversion ahead of next month when it holds a presidential election and a referendum on whether to include the goal of EU membership in its constitution. Last week it busted a $15m Russian vote-buying scam.

Independent institutions often stood up for liberal values. In Senegal a strongman’s ambition to rule indefinitely was entirely rebuffed by the country’s top court, its sinews stiffened by pro-democracy protesters on the streets. After a poll eventually took place, voters made Bassirou Diomaye Faye Africa’s youngest democratically elected leader. In a majority of places elections became more peaceful. Election-related violence compared to the prior election has fallen on average across a sample of 27 countries for which data exists, according to an analysis of the data by The Economist (see chart 3).

The third reason for optimism is that voters held leaders accountable either by removing them from office or eliminating their parliamentary majority. There was a swing against incumbents in well over half of the democratic elections held so far this year (excluding those for the European Parliament). In Britain the opposition Labour Party won the largest majority of parliamentary seats since 1997. In South Korea the incumbent People Power Party was given a drubbing in April amid corruption allegations.

In several huge emerging economies where the health of democracy had been in question, incumbents were emphatically rebuked by the electorate. South African voters, fed up with corruption and incompetence, stripped the ruling African National Congress (ANC) of its parliamentary majority for the first time since the end of apartheid in 1994, forcing the once all-powerful party to form a coalition to remain in government. Narendra Modi, India’s strongman prime minister, lost his parliamentary majority in June despite having the support of a pliant media and his deployment of Hindu nationalism. He too must now rule through a coalition. Even Turkey’s autocratic president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, who won re-election last year in a poll marred by intimidation and rule-bending, was humbled this March when his party was defeated in local elections in the major cities.

Moscow rules

Even as democracy has triumphed in some respects, both familiar and new dangers loom. Old-school dictators prevented or rigged polls in some countries. Juntas in Burkina Faso and Mali indefinitely postponed the elections—and transitions back to civilian rule—that had been scheduled for this year.

Other regimes held sham elections. Amid a war that has killed or injured 500,000 Russians, Vladimir Putin won a mere 88% of votes in elections in March, the biggest victor in post-Soviet Russia. The death of his most credible political opponent, Alexei Navalny, in prison before the vote, was an “unfortunate incident”, Mr Putin said. Paul Kagame, who has called the shots in Rwanda since 1994, walked away with 99% of votes in a rigged presidential election in July.

The charade was so brazen in Algeria that even Abdelmadjid Tebboune, the incumbent president, was surprised to have won 95% of the votes. He issued a statement with his opponents accusing the election authority of “inaccuracies, contradictions, ambiguities and inconsistencies”. In Venezuela Nicolás Maduro, the ruling dictator, fabricated election results and later forced his opponent to flee.

Ballot stuffing in rigged elections means that in some autocracies, official turnout rose. Intriguingly, in regimes that the EIU classifies as “hybrid” (that sit somewhere between flawed democracies and outright dictatorships) turnout fell sharply, by an average of four percentage points. This suggests that voters are disillusioned. In Bangladesh, for example, the paltry turnout rate of 42% amounted, in effect, to a vote of no confidence in Sheikh Hasina, the long-time ruler who was later forced to flee the country in August after protests.

Alongside old-school autocrats arresting opponents and Putin-style vote rigging there are signs of novel threats to democracy. One is that even where incumbents leave office, they still seek to control their successors. Indonesia had a free election in February and Joko Widodo, the president, is set to leave office in October (despite speculation that he wanted to govern beyond his term limits). But there are signs that he wants to wield influence over the next administration through his son, who was elected as vice-president, and his influence over Indonesia’s dominant parties. In Mexico a free election was won by Claudia Sheinbaum, a protégée of the outgoing strongman president Andrés Manuel López Obrador. Yet many Mexicans suspect he may try to exert power from behind the throne because he crushed judicial independence just weeks before he is due to leave office in October and he still has huge influence over his party’s congressional caucus.

Authoritarian innovators are also on the rise: populists who command vast fanbases. El Salvador’s ruler Nayib Bukele has come up with a new formula for Latin American electoral success: social-media savvy plus the mass incarceration of gangsters. He is genuinely popular, with his draconian-but-effective crackdown winning him 85% of the vote in February. As a result he has subverted the constitution, bypassing presidential term-limits, stacking the high court and appointing his secretary as the interim president.

Old continent, new problems

A final, growing, concern is the splintering of parties and voting patterns in Europe, which has become the dominant pattern on the continent. While a free and fair expression of democratic intent it is making the job of governing harder. Germany’s unwieldy ruling coalition is racked by internal conflicts. In France, it has taken more than two months to form a functional government after a polarised parliamentary election in July that saw hard-right and hard-left parties gain support at the expense of the centre. In the Netherlands, a technocrat had to be sworn in as prime minister in July because the ruling parties were unable to agree on who would lead them. The poor performance of coalition governments may in turn fuel voter cynicism and boost support for disruptive, outsider, parties. In Germany support for the hard right and hard left surged in three state elections in September.

So far democracy has, just about, passed the giant test of nerves it has faced in 2024. A lawful, peaceful transfer of power in America would further boost confidence worldwide in the enduring resilience of political freedom. Sadly that is not guaranteed.

© 2024, The Economist Newspaper Ltd. All rights reserved. From The Economist, published under licence. The original content can be found on www.economist.com

CNN
 — 

Brazil’s bright yellow jersey is a symbol that unites the country through a love of football and national pride, but over the past two years the shirt’s adoption by right wing supporters of Jair Bolsonaro, who wear it at protests and rallies to show their political allegiance to the Brazilian president, is causing controversy.

That famous yellow jersey was burnt into the imagination of a global audience in the 1970 World Cup. Inspired by the spelbinding performances of Pelé – he wore the number 10 jersey – the yellow shirt has represented Brazil’s success on the pitch and created a positive image worldwide for the past five decades.

That 1970 national team also became embroiled in politics, notably ahead of the World Cup in Mexico when General Medici, the president of a nation under military dictatorship, played a key role in the removal of the coach – Joao Saldanha – who had overseen a perfect qualification campaign.

Fast forward to 2020 and critics of Bolsonaro say the iconic yellow jersey has now become tainted by its close association to the Brazilian president.

Walter Casagrande, a former footballer for the Brazilian national team and the São Paulo club Corinthians, remembers the feeling of scoring a goal while wearing the yellow jersey in his first match with the “selecao” in 1985.

“It was a magical thing,” Casagrande told CNN Sport, “like an enchanted object that gave me huge emotion.”

Casagrande’s sentiments lie on the left side of the political chasm separating Bolsonaro’s supporters and opponents, and he feels an item he cherishes is being misrepresented.

“Now I consider the Brazilian yellow jersey to have been kidnapped and appropriated by the right wing, so we cannot use it.”

Casagrande said that for him the power of the yellow shirt used to be that it represented democracy and freedom.

“Brazil is appearing horribly to the world right now,” he said. “It’s the first time in my life I’m seeing the yellow jersey being used against democracy and freedom.”

READ: 50 years on, 1970 World Cup-winning team remains Brazil’s greatest ever

As quick as the left is to criticize Bolsonaro, his supporters aren’t slow to counter punch.

Cosmo Alexandre, a Brazilian fighter who holds multiple world titles for Muay Thai and Kickboxing believes the left is conflating their many issues with Bolsonaro, and using the jersey as just another way to air grievances.

As a Bolsonaro supporter, Alexandre brushes off accusations that the jersey’s symbolism is being manipulated, and says the reason for supporters to wear a yellow t-shirt is simple: everyone in Brazil has a yellow t-shirt.

He points out that supporters don’t always wear the Brazilian team jersey specifically, and rallies are full of people wearing yellow t-shirts of all kinds.

Alexandre says there is a separation between the jersey’s sporting reputation and associations from what it politically represents.

“Around the world everybody knows about the Brazilian soccer team, so even if I go to a fight and I use the yellow soccer team shirt, everyone knows it’s Brazil,” he said. “So it’s not about politics – it’s just that the world knows about soccer in Brazil.”

It may be easier for some than others to isolate football and politics in a country where football is God.

Josemar de Rezende Jr. is a football fan who co-founded a Bolsonaro volunteer group in his city before the election. He said he’s proud of the Brazilian team’s global reputation for winning, and to him the yellow jersey “means love for the country, leadership, achievement and pride.”

READ: The mystery of the 1998 World Cup final

White and blue kit campaign

Nonetheless, the subject of the yellow jersey has become so divisive that a campaign is underway for Brazil to play in a white shirt.

João Carlos Assumpção, a Brazilian journalist, filmmaker and author of “Gods of Soccer,” a book about the political, sociological and economic history of Brazil, is leading a campaign for the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF) to abandon the yellow jersey altogether and go back to the classic white and blue kit from when the program started in 1914.

CNN reached out to the CBF who responded that they choose not to comment on this matter, “as it is a very unique issue.”

“People used to love Brazilian soccer because we used to play very well,” Assumpção said, “and if we play well with the white shirt in 2022 I think everybody’s going to buy a white shirt. It’s going to be very difficult to change, but I think it’s not impossible.”

The white and blue jersey was deemed unlucky when Brazil lost the World Cup at home to Uruguay in 1950 so they switched to the yellow jersey, and won five World Cups wearing it – a finals record that still stands today.

Assumpção’s vision for changing the color of the kit is to say to the world that Brazilians want change in the country. “Not the changes that this government is doing,” Assumpção clarified.

On the other side of the political spectrum, the color yellow, including the yellow jersey, represents a positive change in the country. Bolsonaro supporter Rezende Jr. believes the attempt by the left to reclaim the yellow jersey is an effort to “mischaracterize the government,” which he describes as a “patriotic government that represents and has support from all social classes throughout the nation.”

READ: A pig’s head and riot police: Football’s most controversial transfer

Political turmoil in the country mirrors the fierceness between inter-city football rivalries all across Brazil. Except it is not contained by city boundaries and in recent months has brought fans together.

São Paulo is home to four main clubs: Corinthians, Palmeiras, São Paolo, and Santos. The rivalry between Corinthians and Palmeiras is especially intense, and in June groups from each club joined together in the streets to counter-protest Bolsonaro’s supporters.

Sociologist Rafael Castilho, a Member of the Collective Corinthian Democracy and Coordinator of the Corinthians Study Center said that for Brazil to overcome the current political situation, it will have to “unite different ways of thinking and accept the contradictory.”

Castilho explains the civic responsibility rival clubs feel to support each other and join with civil society movements, “as the country experiences a crisis of party representation and social movements have been intimidated by police action,” he said, adding that “the attitude of fans has gained sympathy because part of society feels represented by the courage of the fans.”

The Corinthians have a history of mixing football and politics. In the 1980s during the pro-democracy movement called Diretas Já, the club team was led by national team leaders Socrates and Casagrande.

The two intertwined football with politics when the team wore jerseys during a game in 1982 displaying the words “VOTE on 15th,” in an effort to motivate their fans to vote in the São Paulo state government election.

Two years later the Corinthians were the center of a movement called Democracia Corintiana, which Casagrande said put more than one million people in the streets dressed in yellow.

“It was a very important moment for Brazilian democracy, and this yellow jersey was central to that movement,” Casagrande said.

The yellow jersey was back on the streets in the 2013 protests against ex-President Dilma Roussef and against corruption. A year before the World Cup was to take place in the South American country, conservative protesters wore shirts that represented the colors of Brazil, while leftist protesters used other colors.

Alexandre and Rezende Jr. both say that yellow is an improvement from the red t-shirts government supporters used to wear when the left was in power, alluding to an underlying support of communism.

“When Bolsonaro started running, his supporters used the yellow color to show I’m Brazilian and I don’t want communism in my country,” Alexandre said.

The fight for the yellow jersey leaves some longing to reclaim a victorious past, while others push forward to create new meaning for the iconic symbol. In a country so deeply rooted in football, it’s an issue that’s unlikely to go away.

Assumpção thinks it’s only possible for the football community and Brazilians not associated with the far right to recover the jersey “maybe in five years or 10, but not now. Not now.”