Politics does not need to be false and full of hypocrisy: it is the pressure of our current moment that makes it so. We profess a belief in the power of nationalism, while all about us global pressures make a mockery of the power our leaders claim on our behalf.

In Europe this demands the double standard of, on the one hand, claiming that our destiny lies in our own hands while, on the other, scrambling desperately (and sensibly) to do what Germany requires.

Recently Greece overdid its belief that it was free, offering a referendum the (non-Greek) European decision-makers did not want: the promise lasted a matter of days and the "prime" minister (prime compared to whom?) was gone soon after.

Beyond Europe, countries have become simulacra of nation states, compensating with ostentatious shows of pseudo-strength for the real power that has ebbed away – to other, more powerful countries; to multinational corporations; to international bodies such as the World Trade Organisation.

Other disconnections breed further falsities. The democratic form of government has grown to pre-eminence at exactly the moment those “representing the people” have less and less to decide. National assemblies more resemble local authorities meeting the demands of capital than national legislatures controlling their own destiny, bald men fighting over a comb (as Borges said of the ridiculous Falklands war of 1982). To mask impotence, the polity is full of rage, noise about the past compensating for silence about today.

Demanding lies

The reason politicians are held in such low esteem is because their electorates demand lies of them and are then theatrically furious when these untruths are detected. I am not thinking here of small-time, petty deceit – a brown envelope or a free lunch gratefully grabbed; a planning matter unfairly expedited. This matters of course and is a sign of some kind of decline, though not a great one compared with the corruption of the past. The larger lies are to do with who we are, where we are going and what can be achieved.

The electorates of the democratic states demand to be told they are citizens of free, independent nations run by powerful but accountable leaders because this is what they were brought up to believe matters, a propaganda rooted in past achievement in which the pseudo-political elite colludes for its own purposes (“pseudo” because there is no hierarchy of importance among the powerless).

Who wants a prime minister or a taoiseach who says, “I can do next to nothing”, “The era of the nation-state is over”; “We are a small cog in a wheel in a car being driven by others”. Those who deplore hypocrisy should remember a fact intuited by every successful “democratic” politician: truth rarely wins votes.

Caught out by the truth

And yet when the facts collide with the national self-image (in Ireland, a visiting troika or a corporation demanding a tax break; in Britain the total unimportance of its view on, say, Iraq or

Juncker

; in

France

the inability of a president to deliver on his campaign promises; and so on), we react by condemning the politician for not doing what we knew in our heart of hearts was impossible, punishing him or her for being caught out by truth.

In this process there are invariably rows of fantasy politicians lining up to lead the attack – the Farages, the Sinn Féiners, the Le Pens – all protected by their status as “opposition” from the responsibility of delivering what, were they in “power”, would prove to be entirely impossible.

We are in this current predicament because our training as citizens has been overtaken by unpalatable facts on the ground, huge economic and technological changes that are wreaking havoc with our understanding of ourselves.

The achievement of the 20th century – representative democracy within discrete sovereign units known as states – had already begun to decline even before the collapse of communism in 1989. This extraordinary event seemed to consolidate the hegemonic power of democracy and statehood but in fact it unleashed new forces which have served to undermine both – not destroy them, but reduce them, turn them into empty shells.

How did we get here? Where are we going? What current resources do we have to fight back? What can be done to secure a different future than the one that seems to lie in store? These are questions I will address in articles over the next three Fridays. Conor Gearty is professor of human rights law at the London School of Economics and director of its Institute of Public Affairs