The term “democracy” is often used to evoke positive feelings in our body-politic. Democracy, properly understood, is a process that gives the people a say in how they choose to be governed. At its best, democracy serves as a safeguard against the tyranny of the minority. In practice, however, democracy does not always embody its theoretical ideal. Unfettered democracy, or too much power in the hands of the people, is neither necessarily a good thing, nor is it a sine qua non of a flourishing society. And too often, politicians are unwilling to say that.
Here’s a simple trick that politicians, Democratic and Republican alike, use: “democratic” has become synonymous with “good,” so whenever there’s a policy that a politician opposes—whether it comes through the Legislative, Executive, or Judicial branch— they call it undemocratic. Anything perceived as “undemocratic” is understood to subvert the will of the people, and that is axiomatically seen to be a bad thing.
Seriously, when is the last time a politician has come out against notions of the public will? Sure, President Trump took manifest actions to undermine democratic outcomes—which, to be clear, were odious and dangerous in their own right—but even he cloaked his ramblings in sentiments extolling “the people.”
Now, it’s not like there aren’t anti-democratic institutions built into the American system. To name a few, we have the electoral college, the senate, the Supreme Court, representative democracy (as opposed to direct democracy) all positioned to thwart the passions of the public. It took until the 1970s for political parties to cede control of political primaries to the popular vote. Suffice it to say, checks on popular will are not bugs in the system, they are features. Here is Founding Father Alexander Hamilton on democracy:
It has been observed that a pure democracy, if it were practicable, would be the most perfect government. Experience has proved that no position is more false than this. The ancient democracies, in which the people themselves deliberated, never possessed one good feature of government. Their very character was tyranny; their figure deformity.
This raises the broader issue of political judgement and what a politician owes to his or her constituency. Surrounding this issue is the age-old dichotomy between the “delegate” form of representation and the “trustee” form. Under the delegate model, a representative’s role is to reflect the will and preferences of his or her constituency.There should be no discretion, and the politician should not take into account considerations beyond public will. The apogee of political legitimacy, in this case, would be to most accurately represent the public’s demands on any particular issue, even if it is discordant with one’s own judgement of the matter.
By contrast, the “trustee” form of representation bestows a very different responsibility to the politician. Edmund Burke, the decorated English Statesman, was the progenitor of this persuasion of representation. Legal Scholar Adrien Vermeule, on Burke’s approach, writes:
“Burke’s trustee model of representation [is] a normative stance that sees a good representative as one who exercises independent judgment for the common weal, rather than simply acting simply acting so as to satisfy the preferences of a . . . constituency.”
Burke understood there are complex problems in the world of politics and unpopular, yet prudent, decisions may be discordant with the passions of the public. Thus, an orderly and competent government exists when politicians are elected to exercise their judgment on behalf of their constituencies rather than serving as a proxy for the public will.
Think of it like seeing a doctor. When you see a doctor, it is advisable to defer to their judgement. A good doctor does not deliberately offer a misdiagnosis just to appease a stubborn patient. Similarly, good politicians should not reflexively heed to the demands of their constituencies just because it may be popular with 50.01% of their voting base at any given time. Burke succinctly captures this point:
“Your representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgement; and he betrays you instead of serving you if he sacrifices it to your opinion.”
How else would America navigate the complexities of foreign policy, avert a sovereign debt crisis, or pursue a responsible environmental policy if the height of political virtue is simply deferring to the caprices of the public? Do we really expect the average citizen to know the best way to combat terror cells around the globe? Should we?
Without any countervailing principles that extend beyond the demands of the public will, democracy would undermine its own legitimacy. Take, for example, when many GOP representatives objected to the counting of the electoral votes of certain states. Under the delegate model, there is no underlying principle that precludes such behavior. If these representatives were striving to operationalize the demands of their communities—many of them from deeply conservative districts with constituents who sincerely believe the election was stolen—why should you fault them? Of course, the correct answer is that they have obligations that extend beyond the demands of their voters, some of which include protecting the peaceful transfer of power, preserving the durability and integrity of our government, and the sanctity of truth.
With judgement comes responsibility, and too often do our politicians shirk responsibility. As political theorist Yuval Levin notes, many members of Congress use their positions of power as a platform to build their personal brand instead of letting the institution of Congress form them. By that, he means that too many people seek the position in Congress not to actually legislate, but rather to become social media influencers and culture warriors for their respective political tribes.
Whether it’s Republican Senator Ted Cruz tussling with celebrities on Twitter or Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez bloviating on Instagram Live, politicians of this nature are fundamentally playing the role of entertainers in the reality TV show that has become American politics. Republican Congressman (for now) Matt Gaetz let the cat out of the bag when he said, “If you aren’t making news, then you aren’t governing.” For this reason, political commentator Jonah Goldberg calls Congress “the Parliament of Pundits.”
The concept of delegate representation and the brand-building go hand in hand in that they both undermine responsibility. Burke saw the deleteriousness of subordinating long-term, responsible decision-making to short term popularity. He says:
“But when the leaders choose to make themselves bidders at an auction of popularity, their talents, in the construction of the state, will be of no service. They will become flatterers instead of legislators; the instruments, not the guides, of the people.”
The end result is members of Congress making clowns of themselves in congressional hearings, all for two-minute soundbites and hits on cable news—whether it be at Fox News or MSNBC. Burke puts it presciently, “If any of them should happen to propose a scheme of liberty, soberly limited, and defined with proper qualifications, he will be immediately outbid by his competitors, who will produce something more splendidly popular.” As individual members of Congress chase popularity, Congress—predictably—loses its ability to function.
Nebraska Senator Ben Sasse is an outlier. A politician who does not take issue angering his core constituency from time to time, including voting to convict President Trump, Sasse recognizes this perverse trend. In an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal, he concedes that Congress has lost its deliberative function, and he recommends cutting the cameras in committee hearings as one possible solution. He writes:
“Most of what happens in committee hearings isn’t an oversight, it’s showmanship. Senators make speeches that get chopped up, shipped to home-state TV stations, and blasted across social media. They aren’t trying to learn from witnesses, uncover details, or improve legislation. They’re competing for sound bites.”
As an anecdote, he notes that his work in the Senate Intelligence Committee is considerably more function precisely because much of the information is classified, putting the meetings behind closed doors. Even his Democratic counterparts have made positive remarks on the work done in that Committee. Earlier this year, Politico reported that Intelligence Committee Chair Mark Warner (D-VA) “put a good word in for Sasse with Democratic leaders to make sure he didn’t lose his seat on the panel.”
The goal of these committees should be to make good policy judgments, and that can only be fleshed out through robust deliberation. This requires humility and a willingness to engage in good-faith discourse. The perverse incentives of the cameras in committee meetings makes this all the more difficult. Notice that it isn’t dark money or special interests that are directly responsible for this particular problem. Rather, it is the desire to be popular among the people which perverts the process.
Striking the right balance of democratic and anti-democratic institutions is foundational to the American project. Sometimes it’s a good thing to set up proper guardrails on the popular will, channeling it to productive ends, while curbing its excesses at the same time. But right now, too few politicians have the courage to argue against the public will when necessary, against too much transparency, and against the performance art that has characterized our politics. To that end, they resemble something very different from the Statesman model described by Burke. And who knows how much longer a nation can last without responsible leaders.