Since the French Revolution of 1789, which collapsed the ancien régime and laid the foundations of liberal democracy, the idea of the state has fundamentally changed. No longer was the state embodied solely in a monarch. It became something broader, an entity derived from, and accountable to, society. The revolution did not merely replace a king; it redefined sovereignty. The state was no longer aristocracy alone; it now included the people. ALSO READ: Why Africa must embrace global trade and innovation Before this transformation, the monarch defined borders, identity, and allegiance. One could become French through conquest, treaty, or royal decree. Though not always codified, monarchs still understood a simple political truth: to disregard the will of the kingdom entirely was to invite rebellion. Peasant uprisings, civil conflict, and eventually coups were reminders that even absolute power rested on a fragile consent of the society. ALSO READ: Africa’s trade future in a fractured global economy The English Glorious Revolution reinforced this evolution. By subordinating the monarchy to Parliament, it established not only parliamentary supremacy but a deeper philosophical shift: the state exists to serve society. In theory, society became sovereign and the state, its instrument. Yet this theoretical clarity has never resolved the practical tension between the two. The post-war state and the rise of global trade The modern global economy emerged from the ashes of World War II. The devastation of Europe gave birth to a new system of international alliances, institutional frameworks, and economic interdependence. The Marshall Plan rebuilt Western Europe not merely out of charity, but out of strategic design. Trade, reconstruction loans, and economic integration became tools of geopolitical alignment. The Cold War narrative was often presented as a moral struggle, democracy versus communism, freedom versus autocracy. But beneath the ideological rhetoric lay something far more material: trade. Access to resources, control of supply chains, energy security, maritime routes, and financial leverage were central to the rivalry. The United States and much of Europe had retreated into isolationism after World War I, influenced by electorates or, should I say, “society” weary of entanglements abroad. Yet after 1945, the state recalibrated, and leaders concluded that economic interdependence would secure peace and prosperity. Institutions such as the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), and later the World Trade Organisation emerged from this conviction. Here lies the first major divergence between state and society in the modern era. The electorate (society) that once resisted foreign entanglement gradually accepted global integration, partly because the Cold War provided ideological justification. Free trade and transatlantic cooperation were seen as defensive necessities against Soviet expansion. Society tolerated economic openness because it aligned with security fears. But when the Soviet Union collapsed, the justification weakened. When strategy outpaces sentiment Without the Cold War’s existential threat, citizens increasingly questioned why their economies remained exposed to global shocks, foreign labour competition, and external regulatory frameworks. While economists argued for long-term gains, many communities experienced short-term dislocation, factory closures due to the transformation of the economy from manufacturing to a more service-oriented one, wage stagnation, and cultural anxiety. When the state argues that immigration is vital for economic survival, and society demands restriction, democratic governance enters difficult terrain. Should elected leaders follow short-term public sentiment, or pursue long-term structural stability? Is democracy about reflecting immediate will, or safeguarding future prosperity? Brexit exemplified this tension. Concerns about EU-centric immigration and sovereignty resulted in a referendum that forced the British state out of the European Union, a project originally founded on trade integration. Trade, which had ushered in decades of stability and growth, became secondary to societal anxieties. The result exposed the United Kingdom to prolonged economic adjustment and uncertainty. The same tension now echoes across Europe and North America. Political parties capitalise on societal frustrations, campaigning on anti-immigration and protectionist platforms. Yet once in power, they confront fiscal realities: ageing populations, labour market gaps, export dependence. The rhetoric of restriction often collides with the arithmetic of economic necessity. Thus emerges what many now call the “deep state” dilemma, a suspicion that bureaucratic institutions continue to pursue globalist policies regardless of electoral outcomes. Whether such claims are valid or not, the perception itself reflects declining institutional trust. And this erosion of trust is perhaps the most dangerous fault line of all. If society loses faith in institutions designed to manage trade and cooperation, then the legitimacy of the global system weakens. International organisations, once seen as guarantors of stability, are increasingly portrayed as constraints on sovereignty. High-income democracies that originally championed free trade now debate withdrawal or radical reform, not necessarily because the system fails economically, but because society questions its fairness. The tension between state and society is therefore not merely political; it is existential for the global trading order. In Part II, I will examine how this tension is unfolding in real time. The writer is a WTO Young Trade Leader 2025 with an interest in advancing inclusive trade for youth and women-led MSMEs especially under the AfCFTA, and exploring how digital trade and sustainability can open new paths for entrepreneurs in Africa and beyond.
