Autocrats around the world, after a pretty bad 2022, must be delighted: just in time for the second anniversary of the Capitol insurrection, the US is providing a spectacle of democratic dysfunction for stunned global audiences to behold. But the Republican faction holding the country hostage – the farthest right inside what de facto has become a far-right party – wants to convince us that this is simply what democracy looks like – messy and frustrating, but all happening for the sake of a better result in the end. The Groundhog Day-style procedures are dignified as – in the words of failed speaker of the House candidate Byron Donalds – a “deliberative, open process” necessary for the “constitutional republic that is America”.

The fact is that the Republicans blocking Kevin McCarthy’s bid for speaker are not crazy when they suggest that good-faith debate within the same political party can be beneficial for a democratic polity. Except that their political performance art is really about a refusal to accept a loss – the very core of the Trumpist playbook. This is not what democracy looks like; this is what acting out a belief in minority rule looks like.

Democracy inside parties is easy to ridicule. Oscar Wilde once quipped that the problem with socialism is that it takes too many evenings. What is billed as “deliberation” often means that the person who can stick around the longest – or who enjoys pontificating about political philosophy the most – wins the day: if in doubt, an educated white man who might not have to worry about the kids in the morning. Bickering inside parties also seems an obvious turn-off for voters. If even partisans supposedly agreed on political principles aren’t convinced by the program, why should anyone else be?

And yet intra-party democracy is crucial for the health of democracy as a whole. People get used to good-faith disagreement on policies; the fact that they hold the same principles does not mean there can’t be debates, ideally allowing new arguments and evidence to come out. Lyndon Johnson held that “What the man on the street wants is not a big debate on fundamental issues; he wants a little medical care, a rug on the floor, a picture on the wall.” But, as his party learned the hard way, what “a little medical care” means, in practice, can be highly contentious. No principle automatically implements itself as policy; debates are necessary.

What’s more, democracy inside parties gets partisans used to the idea that the other side could possibly be right – a stance crucial for democracy, in which opponents must be treated as legitimate adversaries, not as existential enemies. Losers of a conflict learn how to adopt a stance of legitimate opposition and critical loyalty: they agree on principles, but disagree about policies or even particular personalities; above all, they remain free to criticize the leadership. Naive? The absence of critical loyalty inside a party opens the path to something like January 6: no one was able to restrain Trump, as he had refashioned the Republican party into something like a personality cult. It is hardly an accident that rightwing populist leaders – think Modi, Orbán, Erdoğan – all govern their own parties in autocratic fashion.

But what the far right of the far right is doing in Washington now has nothing to do with intra-party democracy. No real arguments are being offered when figures like Byron Donalds and Kevin Hern get their 15 minutes of fame. What Donalds lauds as “open process” unfolds behind closed doors; and, curiously for self-declared conservatives, blackmail aimed at radically changing the power of the speaker is pushed without serious claims about the constitution.

What the anti-McCarthy faction is doing is a miniature version of what the Republican party as a whole has increasingly adopted as a strategy at least since the 1990s: even if your stances are unpopular and you fail to win majorities, you somehow still want to govern. Except that this strategy is now consuming the party’s own leadership; the revolution is devouring both its radical children and the parents, like McCarthy, who benevolently looked on as the kids learned how to rampage during the Trump years.

Concretely, the far right of the far right seeks a position from which to force the speaker to dominate a Democratic president through blackmail and brinkmanship. Newt Gingrich – as so often, the original model for what is playing out today – shut down the government to force Bill Clinton’s hand; John Boehner and Paul Ryan were not as willing to play hardball and paid the price. The underlying assumption is that the other party has no legitimate role in government at all and that sharing power is equal to betrayal. It is not an accident that figures like Scott Perry paint the Democrats not just as wrong, but as evil actors (he hinted that they might be like Nazis) hellbent on destroying America.

This unseemly spectacle is not the debate Americans “need” and are “owed”; this is also not just instant proof that the Republican party is unable to govern, as many previews of the new Congress had asserted; rather, it is demonstration just how little has changed since the original January 6.

• Jan-Werner Müller teaches at Princeton and is a Guardian US columnist. His most recent book is Democracy Rules