Demanding empirical proof of a group's competence before granting them political power is a historical tactic used to disenfranchise people. Citing W.E.B. Du Bois, political scientist Hélène Landemore argues that true democracy requires a leap of faith: you must trust people with power first, and they will rise to the occasion and educate themselves.
The U.S. Constitution intentionally excluded women from political participation, defining power for men only. This foundational decision means the country began as what author Anna Malaika Tubbs defines as "American patriarchy," not a true democracy where power is vested in all people.
The core democratic ideal of reaching consensus through respectful listening and dialogue was not a European invention. Joy Harjo points out that these principles were directly modeled on the political structures of Native nations, highlighting a foundational, yet often ignored, contribution to American governance.
According to Ken Burns, democracy was not the revolution's intention but its consequence. Initially an "elitist program," the leaders realized they needed to enlist the masses to win. This forced them to extend the language of liberty to everyone, which, once spoken, could not be taken back and ultimately applied to all.
Our default method for promotion—open competition—is flawed because it disproportionately attracts and rewards individuals who most desire power, not necessarily those best suited for leadership. The Founding Fathers understood this, preferring reluctant leaders. Alternative models, like deliberation by a select body, can produce more competent and less self-interested leaders.
The failure of Western nation-building highlights a key principle: establishing durable institutions must precede the promotion of democratic ideals. Without strong institutional frameworks for order, ideals like "freedom" can lead to chaos. America’s own success was built on inherited institutions, a luxury many developing nations lack, making the export of democracy exceptionally difficult.
The defining characteristic of a functional democracy is not who wins, but the behavior of those who lose. A democracy is healthy only when the losing side accepts the result as legitimate and agrees to compete again in the future. The moment losers begin to systematically challenge the fairness of the process, the entire democratic foundation is at risk.
Effective citizen assemblies require experts, but not in their traditional, top-down authoritative role. Experts must learn to be "on tap, not on top"—simplifying their language and responding to citizens' needs rather than dictating solutions. This creates a difficult but necessary learning curve, shifting the expert's role from a leader to a service provider.
Citizen assemblies don't require pre-existing expertise from participants. The inclusion of diverse individuals, like the homeless or elderly, changes the conversation's nature, fosters empathy, and provides a therapeutic function for the political body. This emotional and social bonding is considered at least as important as technical problem-solving.
Expecting politicians to vote themselves out of a job is unrealistic. The path to reform is a bottom-up approach, using numerous local citizen assemblies to prove their value. When politicians realize these assemblies can solve problems and reconcile people with the system, they will adopt them to secure their own legitimacy and hold onto power.
Leaders who immediately frame issues through a lens of core values, such as constitutionality, build more trust than those who calculate a politically palatable position. The public can detect inauthenticity, making a principles-first approach more effective long-term, even if it seems risky in the short term. Leaders should bring people along to their principled position.