The Great Democracy

by Ganesh Sitaraman

  A second explanation for why norms hold is that those who adhere to them are part of a shared cultural community with many personal ties and common beliefs. For example, the diamond industry has not relied on courts and governments to enforce contracts or police the boundaries of sales for centuries. Diamond merchants rely on personal relationships and trust—norms—to make and enforce sales contracts. But this mode of exchange works because the industry is dominated by an ethnically homogeneous group of merchants who have intergenerational family businesses.4

  Note that on both of these explanations, norms are fundamentally antidemocratic. In the case of reciprocity, norms are stronger if senators are entrenched in power for decades because they know they will eventually be on the losing end if the norm breaks. In the case of diamond dealers, the community is small and insular. In other words, clubby environments are better at preserving norms. Relying partly on this basic insight, some commentators have suggested that the problem today is too much democracy. Andrew Sullivan’s broadside in New York magazine was thus titled “Democracies End When They Are Too Democratic.” Many in this camp hold that the rising populism of the era proves that elites are central to safeguarding liberty. But for the many people who are not willing to adopt some sort of aristocracy, a commitment to both norms and democracy is in serious tension.5

  There is also a third situation in which political and constitutional norms hold—one that does not rely on insular elites. When the population as a whole believes strongly in a norm, leaders are unlikely to attack it. Leaders who violate norms will face the fury of public opinion and will be sanctioned at the ballot box. Under this theory, the real strength of norms and institutions does not come from leaders or elites but from the people themselves. The leaders simply reflect the sentiments of society at large.

  With these explanations in mind, how should we understand the current assault on democratic norms and institutions? There are two explanations. First, democracy has broken the elite club, and the political movements that stormed the gates and elected new leadership are less committed to norms and institutions—and maybe even want to destroy them. In other words, the repeat player and common culture explanations for norms have failed because our political leaders are no longer a small group of homogeneous people who will serve in office together over decades. It is thus no surprise that the most prominent norm breaker, Donald Trump, never held any elected or appointed office of any kind and that outsiders are the ones most intent on eliminating long-standing laws, practices, and institutions. The second possible reason norms come under assault is that the elites remain in power but are responding to popular preferences to stay in power. Politicians who fear a primary challenger or worry about losing turnout from their political base might find themselves staying silent or even participating in an attack on norms if they think their constituents demand it.

  Whether the people have broken into the elite club or whether the club members are responding to the people’s demands, norms are violated and institutions are attacked because the people themselves are no longer invested enough in them to preserve them. The deep, difficult problem is thus not the erosion of the institutions or the breaking of norms per se, but the fact that the people no longer have sufficient respect for those norms and institutions. The crisis of democratic government is therefore really a crisis of democratic society. And this leads to a critical point: to have a functioning democratic government, we must fulfill the conditions for a democratic society.

  For much of the neoliberal era, there was less emphasis on the necessary conditions for a democratic society. Conversations about democracy emphasized the expansion of the franchise and the right of individuals to participate in the political process. In America, it was the heroic tale of how the Jacksonians expanded the franchise to white men, abolishing property requirements for voting; how the Civil War and Reconstruction ended slavery and gave African Americans the right to vote; how suffragettes fought and won the battle for women voting; and how, ultimately, the civil rights movement made civil and political equality real throughout the country. With the franchise expanded, democracy was secure as long as basic institutions were in place. Democratic debates in the neoliberal era thus focused on whether individuals could actually exercise the right to vote, on how to increase voter turnout and reduce apathy, and on making democracy more participatory. The neoliberal era’s vision of democracy divorced politics from economics and society and emphasized individual rights. The crisis-of-democracy theorists in the last few years have largely also focused on these features or on the associated institutions and norms that are necessary to sustain them.6

  The problem is that the neoliberal era’s approach to democracy only captures one aspect of democracy—the political aspect—and a narrow version at that. Political democracy is a critically important aspect of democracy, to be sure. But for a government to be democratic in any meaningful and sustainable sense, it must have more than elections and the associated legal institutions. The political realm cannot be separated from economic, social, and ethical commitments. Taking this broader view of democracy is far more demanding even though it has always been what democracy required to flourish.

  First, democracy requires a measure of social solidarity and citizens who have an ethical commitment to the democratic community. The idea that neoliberalism could coexist with democracy was always going to be problematic. Neoliberalism’s individualism and desire to privatize everything is in direct conflict with democracy’s demand for social solidarity. A government founded on rule by the people requires the people to be part of a shared project. John Dewey once wrote that democracy “is the idea of community life itself,” and a community, by definition, requires some kind of common culture. Politics will always feature minor divisions on a variety of issues, but when democratic societies become severely polarized—into rich and poor, North and South, free and slave, red and blue—it becomes a zero-sum game. In those situations, the democratic community is no longer engaged in the project of self-government but in warfare by other means.7

  The fraying of our social fabric is thus a serious threat to democracy. Institutions that once facilitated social understanding—public schools, public parks and services, and the military—are increasingly segregated by class, race, or both. The media environment, which once featured only a few TV channels and therefore united everyone in a common news and entertainment culture, is now fractured with fewer gatekeepers and increasing personalization. Commentators on both the right and left recognize that neighborhoods are increasingly segregated—not just by race but by class and culture. Societies that are deeply divided are susceptible to being ripped apart by centrifugal forces, such as scapegoating “other” people for social problems. Democracy cannot withstand such violent clashes of opinion. This is also why, as intellectual historian James Kloppenberg has observed, democracy is “an ethical ideal.” To participate in a democratic community means rejecting the selfish individualism that neoliberalism promotes. Democratic citizens must see true freedom as connected to the flourishing of the democratic community, and, paradoxically, that involves restraint and sacrifice.8

  The second precondition is an economic democracy. For most of the history of Western political thought—from at least Aristotle in ancient Greece onward—philosophers and political leaders alike recognized that democracy cannot survive when there is extreme economic inequality; it requires a large, strong middle class. A society in which wealth is concentrated in the hands of the few will face one of two disastrous fates: either it will descend into oligarchy, as the rich use their wealth to rig the political system in their favor, or the divide between the rich and everyone else will lead to popular backlash, with a demagogue leading the revolt. Economically unequal societies are therefore inherently unstable and, one way or another, become undemocratic. In contrast, in a society with a substantial middle class, people will largely have shared economic interests. Political conflicts will be less likely to lead to p
olarization or to destabilize the republic. An economic democracy also ensures that no private actors—whether individuals or corporations—have so much power that they can dominate individuals or the government. This guarantees political and economic freedom for everyone. As Teddy Roosevelt once wrote, “There can be no real political democracy unless there is something approaching an economic democracy.”9

  Political democracy is, of course, what we normally think of as democracy. It might seem pithy and obvious to say that a representative democracy needs to be representative of all the people. But even amid worries about the erosion of democracy, our political system falls far short of this most basic principle. Reformers have long focused on how gerrymandering, voter suppression activities, and other election rules undermine the ability of everyone to have an equal voice in government. But a serious effort at political democracy will require more than voting reforms. Over the last decade or so, political scientists have shown that policy outcomes in government represent wealthy people and corporate interests and don’t represent ordinary people well. Part of the reason is that wealthy people vote at higher rates, donate more, contact their representatives more, and serve as elected officials more. But again, the challenge goes much further than elections. Every branch of government is susceptible to influence. Congress is made up of people drawn from the wealthiest subsets of our population, and it is beset by lobbyists who “educate” members and their staffs and sometimes even draft legislation for members. In the executive branch, corporate interest groups wield considerable power over the regulatory process, both by commenting on the substance of regulations and by getting industry advocates appointed into government jobs. Even the courts are skewed: judicial appointees frequently come from backgrounds defending corporations; far fewer have spent their careers in the public interest or representing workers and consumers. Although there is a robust debate on how to balance majority rule with protecting the rights of minorities, a system that never has majority rule is hardly democratic and a system that channels the views of the wealthy is hardly representative. It is more like an oligarchy or an aristocracy.

  Of course, “representation” can mean many things. The philosopher Hanna Pitkin wrote probably the most famous book on the concept, and she distinguished between two types of representation. Representation can mean standing for the people, meaning that the elected representatives resemble the people they represent. John Adams, for example, wrote in 1776 that the legislature “should be an exact portrait, in miniature, of the people at large, as it should think, feel, reason and act like them.” Alternatively, representation can mean acting for the people. This meaning ranges from being an independent trustee that makes judgments in the people’s best interest to acting like a transmission belt for their preferences. But here’s the most important thing: neither theory of representation justifies rule by the wealthy, interest group domination of the policy agenda, or a small minority with idiosyncratic preferences wielding power over all of society.10

  Each of the three conditions for democracy reinforces each other. Under conditions of economic inequality, stagnation, and scarcity, people become more susceptible to claims that other groups are to blame for the failures of public policy or for structural changes in the economy. As one scholar writes, “Political tribalism thrives under conditions of economic insecurity and lack of opportunity.” In contrast, in a society with relative economic equality, attempts to use scapegoating find a less favorable social environment. The reverse is also true: in a society with a strong sense of solidarity, like the Scandinavian countries, people will also be more likely to support policies that expand economic equality.11

  Economic inequality and political inequality also go together. The wealthiest people and interest groups use their wealth to reshape laws and regulations in ways that benefit themselves. This further deepens economic inequality. In contrast, in a society with relative economy equality, neither the relatively wealthy nor the relatively poor will be able to skew public policy because the middle class will pursue policies that help most people. Greater political equality also means greater economic equality, as the majority’s preferences will be more likely to be put into law—and the majority is unlikely to support policies that disproportionately help the wealthy.12

  Finally, a society with deep social divisions will also break down politically, as each tribe interprets all policy issues as part of a winner-take-all system, rendering compromise and cooperation impossible. In contrast, in a relatively homogeneous society, disagreements among people are relatively minor, rendering political compromises possible. “Societies thrive on trust,” one political theorist notes, “but they need the widest possible radius of trust to do well.” Social solidarity expands trust among people within the community—and that facilitates political cooperation rather than political conflict.13

  Breakdown in any of the political, economic, and social conditions for democracy can lead to a breakdown in all three. Similarly, success in each arena strengthens the others. When people are economically equal, their political power is relatively equal, leading to more responsive policy choices. When people feel connected to their fellow citizens, they will be more likely to adopt policies to support them, leading to greater economic equality and therefore political equality. The choice is between a vicious cycle that destroys democracy and a virtuous one that sustains it.

  Part of the problem today is that we have ignored the preconditions for a democratic society for too long. In the 1960s, the United States finally decided that the political community would treat all of our citizens as equals—white and black, men and women. But at the very moment in which our society was becoming politically inclusive, it failed to become more economically equal and socially united. The rising tide that lifted all boats in the post–World War II era started to recede in the 1970s. A brutally competitive global economy joined with neoliberal policies to bring a generation of wage stagnation and the economic collapse of communities across the country. Rather than getting closer to economic democracy, neoliberalism brought us to the edge of oligarchy. The civil rights movements of the 1960s promised to replace segregation with integration. But efforts to achieve social solidarity across race, gender, and geography also failed. Neoliberalism championed retreating into private cliques instead of confronting the hard work of building a national community. Attempts at racial integration led to white flight from the cities and eventually to informal segregation of many neighborhoods. Dog-whistle politics kept resentment simmering. And the culture wars increasingly brought division.

  With the end of the neoliberal era, it is possible to succeed where past generations failed and fulfill the aspiration of democracy. Political leaders and activists have already begun to advance elements of this agenda. A new generation of elected officials, from Congressman Joe Kennedy to Mayor Pete Buttigieg, emphasizes the importance of public service and recognizes that service unites us. Some elected officials, including Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senator Elizabeth Warren, have proposed higher tax rates on the very wealthy and investments in opportunity for all Americans. Federal Trade Commissioner Rohit Chopra and Congressman Ro Khanna have called for greater antitrust enforcement. And a wide range of political leaders recognize the perilous conditions of our democracy and have supported sweeping reforms to voting, ethics, and conflicts of interest rules. If these emergent priorities are successful, the country will have more social solidarity, be more equal economically, and be more representative politically. It will become a great democracy.

  As an approach for the future, the agenda for a great democracy stands in contrast to the last two eras of politics. Neoliberalism tries to put market processes before politics. Great democracy recognizes that people choose what kind of society to live in, and that includes choosing the rules for markets. Neoliberalism tries to separate economics from politics, imagining a separate sphere of economic action in which government should not operate. Great democracy recognizes that po
litics and economics are intertwined and that the accumulation of power in one can distort and destroy freedom in the other. Neoliberalism tries to place the individual above everything, atomizing people from each other in a competitive arena. Great democracy recognizes the importance of community with shared ethics, a common tradition, and joint ambitions.

  Great democracy also isn’t just a repackaged form of the liberalism of the post–World War II era. The old liberalism was based on public-private cooperation between big business, big government, and big labor. Great democracy instead seeks to establish a public realm—a set of shared institutions that everyone can partake in and from which everyone can benefit. The old liberalism was highly technocratic, seeking active management of specific processes and designs within industry. Great democracy aims instead to pursue structural regulations and policy programs that will be simpler and easier to monitor. The old liberalism also emphasized individual rights, and its era involved a great struggle for everyone to have those rights. Great democracy seeks to make good on the struggle for equality by working to build social solidarity across the country.