英文原文：

In a recent article, (in)famous Francis Fukuyama briefly discusses 2024 as the "year of elections." Indeed, statistics show that this year, most countries have held some kind of election. I browsed through the article to see if there was any mention of my country Macedonia (after all I was a presidential candidate); in vain. Like most other analysts, Fukuyama focuses on the “Hamletian choice” in the U.S.

Will the citizens choose Donald Trump or Vice President Kamala Harris, who would become the first female president? This appears to be the pivotal question in both American and international debates, as if the world’s fate hinges on the individual who enters the White House. This sentiment is particularly intensified in a time of global crisis, which threatens to bring about a tragic end for all humankind. However, while the event is of high interest, not everyone considers it to be decisive.

The rest of the world (the global majority) has already decided not to tie its fate to the chaos and political fervor in the U.S. Professor Zhang Weiwei from Fudan University in Shanghai offered an interesting perspective. He sees this American drama (or American tragedy, with these two figures posing as the only political options) as a reflection of the system’s weaknesses, characterized by spectacle, polarization, insults, and the labeling of entire populations.

He rightly points out that such a scenario would be impossible in China—not because it's a one-party state, but because the selection process for high party leadership is so rigorous that, whoever heads the country, it’s assured that they are someone proven in serving the public good.

Professor Mohammad Marandi from Tehran also offered an interesting comment, referring to a New York Times analysis that suggested Iran was rooting for or even meddling in American elections. He remarks that Iranians would never favor either of these “maniacal figures,” as both equally support genocide.

It’s hard to envy American citizens for having to choose between Pepsi and Coca-Cola, as Noam Chomsky once famously described the two major parties. In a recent talk at Cambridge, Jeffrey Sachs echoed the same sentiment, even taking it a step further. He stated that although he’s traditionally leaned toward the Democrats, he can no longer forgive them, as they are directly responsible for the two major crises threatening global peace and security: Ukraine and Palestine.

But most people—even within academia—out of sheer desperation, choose what they perceive as the lesser evil, and it seems Kamala has the edge among the educated.

I sympathize with them, I understand them, but what irritates me is the need to beautify even the lesser evil (which, in essence, remains evil—and they know it well). I commented on this on a California peace studies colleague’s social media profile—and ended up getting unfriended.

Apparently, I hit a nerve, as my comments (apologizing, of course, for interfering in another country's elections, though that country has caused us plenty of grief here in the Balkans) began receiving support from some of his followers. Anyway, this is a minor episode compared to what lies ahead for American society.

It’s not hard to conclude that whatever the outcome, it will lead to a legitimacy crisis and internal instability in an already polarized society. I recall when George W. Bush won his second term, despite the disastrous policies he pursued. Many of us consoled ourselves, thinking that this was a step toward ending those unsustainable policies and perhaps a step closer to the fall of the Empire.

But such processes—just like the building of a different world order—are lengthy, and we can never predict with certainty when or how they will conclude. And with what consequences... which will inevitably ripple outward in concentric circles, from the national to the global stage.

Those familiar with American politics (and here I’ll again mention Jeffrey Sachs, a man who has spent decades closely connected with, or respected by, the political elite) know that, despite all the spectacle, the U.S. president is not the true center of power.

The country is managed by others while the public focuses on personalities and character traits. This “national security state” or the military-industrial-media-academic complex is the very reason for the lack of genuine democracy. Although social cohesion is in disarray, along with the social contract on key issues of public welfare in one of the world’s wealthiest nations, the apparatus that governs ensures its own survival and continuity.

A closer analysis would easily reveal how, in numerous ways, the Biden administration has simply extended Trump’s policies from his first term. Likewise, it’s hard to expect that if Trump wins now, he would bring any significant (positive) changes, especially in foreign policy.

Although aware of the fractures in the system and the necessity for change, the Democrats have done everything possible to sustain this dysfunctional system, even to the point of a self-destructive collective hysteria with their relentless militarization.

Just days before the election, they’re sending a strong military contingent to “defend” Israel, as if war were their trump card, just as attempted attacks on their rival candidate were. I know respected Democrat supporters who are disheartened by Biden and Harris’s latest moves and are even asking themselves: do these people even want to win?

However, wiser analysts, such as American professor Vladimir Goldstein, focus less on predictions and bets and more on examining the deeper reasons behind the current climate—namely, why the election itself is perceived almost as a security threat. Goldstein speaks to the secret of Trump’s appeal to the lower social classes in American society.

Amid the flood of unfiltered statements from Trump (often from a fragmented mind), each person hears what they want. Above all, his messages that resonate with the average voter include calls for national security against migrants, an isolationist, self-centered agenda, and issues like inflation, housing scarcity, and budget drain for funding foreign wars and countries.

Goldstein captures the core dilemma of the average American: why do we fight wars abroad instead of securing prosperity here at home? Yet well-paid, often pseudo-expert analysts insist that the U.S. has a duty to intervene overseas, dismissing domestic priorities.

Anyone who questions this has long been labeled a fascist, a fanatic, or simply part of the “ignorant masses.” This liberal, quasi-democratic elite—driven by elitism and blinded by ideology—is directly responsible for the backlash embodied by Trump or similar figures.

If there was even a shred of common sense left, someone might listen to the voices of the angry, the abandoned, the disappointed, and the poor at the bottom, and reconsider the priorities of both foreign and domestic policy—before it’s too late.

The American system is ensnared, resembling the ancient Ouroboros, a serpent that, lured by the scent of its prey, consumes its own tail, oblivious to the self-destructive consequences. This lust for power and control overrides rational judgment, trapping the system in a self-defeating cycle. Some see this as leading to self-destruction; others view it as an endless cycle of life and death. Either way, the outcome is grim.

Tomorrow’s election won’t turn the U.S. into a more livable, decent place for its citizens, nor will it produce a more sensible global player. Instead, it will serve merely as a prelude to the next phase of the American tragedy.

Empires do not fade quietly; they thrash, resist, and attempt to hold on to power until the end, often leaving devastation in their wake. The United States, with its vast influence, is no exception. Its internal fractures and polarizations are evident, yet its global reach means that its struggles inevitably affect regions far beyond its borders.

As we witness shifts in global power, with other regions and powers rising, the question becomes not only about the trajectory of the U.S. but about how the rest of the world will weather these tremors and reshape itself in response.

Thus, we are not just spectators but are deeply involved, whether we like it or not, in the unfolding dynamics of a declining empire. And as history has shown us, empires rarely go quietly into the night.

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