Can a democracy be sustained where citizens have lost hope in its institutions?
This question, which arose in the context of a selection process for a scholarship, still resonates with me. Because, beyond being a trigger, it touches a sensitive fiber of Latin American democracies: the growing apathy -or, as some call it, disbelief- towards politics and its institutions.
The discussion on political apathy is not new in Argentina. In fact, at the beginning of the 20th century, the Sáenz Peña Law (1912) established secret, universal and compulsory voting with the aim of combating citizen indifference that put the legitimacy of the system at risk. In other words, political apathy was already perceived then as a concrete threat to democracy. More than a century later, we are facing a similar phenomenon, although in different forms: participation is weakening, not because of a total lack of interest in politics, but because of the feeling that institutions do not fulfill their promises.
A recent study by Chequeado revealed that participation in Argentine provincial elections fell 19 points from the historical average. In the province of Santa Fe, for example, only 52% of the electorate turned out to vote in the last elections.
These figures clearly reflect a structural problem: the growing distance between citizenship and institutional politics.
However, reducing the phenomenon to "apathy" may not be entirely accurate. During my participation in a fellowship, several young people argued that what exists is not political apathy, but disbelief.
In other words, citizens have not ceased to be interested in public affairs; what has happened is that they have lost hope that their institutions can solve them.
The difference is crucial: apathy implies indifference, while disbelief is active disillusionment.
Whoever disbelieves, once believed. And this loss of faith is perhaps more dangerous than indifference, because it implies frustration and emotional distance from the democratic system.
This phenomenon is not exclusive to Argentina. In Peru, during a recent conservatory with young people, a question arose that summarizes this state of mind: "How do we keep hope alive when the institutions fail us?
It is a question that transcends borders, because it expresses the challenge of sustaining citizen confidence in contexts where the traditional mechanisms of representation seem exhausted.
Now, if the crisis is one of trust, how can it be rebuilt?
One possible answer lies in citizen participation beyond the ballot box. Young people, in particular, have found in social activism, volunteering and community spaces forms of advocacy that go beyond traditional politics.
This trend shows that it is not an absolute rejection of politics, but rather a search for new ways to transform reality.
Democracy, however, needs more than votes and occasional participation. It needs hope.
A democracy without hope is an empty edifice: it can stand formally, but it loses its vital essence.
Here appears the great challenge of our time: to rethink the links between institutions and citizenship, not only in terms of efficiency, but also in terms of legitimacy and trust.
In my case, participation was not an abstract concept, but a real path: Throughout my career, I had the privilege of integrating student spaces, participating in programs such as the MERCOSUR Youth Parliament, the Municipal Youth Parliament or the "Youth 4 Democracy" scholarship. Programs that promote democracy from the voice of young people.
This not only opened doors to knowledge, but also allowed me to understand the importance of transforming youth participation into a sustained and impactful practice.
All these experiences showed me that, even in the midst of apathy, there are always opportunities to build citizenship.
But is it possible to reverse disbelief?
History shows that it is.
Just as in the last century compulsory voting helped to face citizen apathy, today the challenge is to build credible, transparent and close institutions.
A democracy can only be sustained when people feel that it is worth participating in and believing in it. And that credibility begins in everyday life: a minister of education who works half a block away from a school should at least step on it.
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