It never begins with explosions.

Not with sirens.

Not with a single moment people remember later.

It begins quietly.

With sentences that would have been unthinkable before.

With decisions labeled “necessary.”

With the growing sense that truth has become negotiable.

A country does not collapse because it becomes poor.

It collapses when trust dies.

When citizens no longer believe rules apply to everyone.

When power no longer needs to explain itself.

When fear becomes more useful than hope.

This is often called stability.

In reality, it is stagnation before the break.

---

For a long time, I believed democracies were resilient.

That institutions were stronger than individuals.

That history does not repeat itself, but learns.

Today, I am no longer certain.

Because systems do not fail when they are attacked.

They fail when they start lying to themselves.

When problems are no longer solved, only managed.

When scapegoats are needed to mask incompetence.

When loyalty becomes more important than truth.

That is when something new emerges.

Something cold.

Something efficient.

And almost no one notices that it is no longer a state,

but an apparatus.

---

The most dangerous part is this:

Most people cooperate.

Not out of cruelty.

But out of exhaustion.

They adapt.

They lower their voices.

They look away.

Until the moment comes when looking away is no longer enough.

---

Maybe this is all exaggerated.

Maybe it is not.

But anyone who believes collapse begins when tanks roll in

has not understood how modern power works.

It does not need violence.

It needs consent.

Or indifference.

Both are easy to obtain

when fear is in control.

---

I am not writing this as a warning.

Warnings are ignored.

I am writing it as an observation.

Some countries do not die.

They become something else.

And one day, people ask themselves

when exactly they missed the moment

when they still could have spoken up.