Democracy is an Ongoing Conversation
Highlighting a passage from Learning to Disagree in light of recent events
As I watched the events of this past week unfold, I was reminded of a chapter in Learning to Disagree that explores what happens when we can’t compromise. In a diverse democracy, people hold different and incompatible visions of the good. We don’t always get our way. Sometimes we lose in the political process. And the stakes feel enormous, because losing at the ballot box usually means laws and policies that we don’t like. It also means we have to endure our political opponents wielding tremendous power in shaping our country’s culture and values.
Elections are one of the ways that we resolve our painful differences when compromise isn’t possible. Our legal system is another. As I write in Learning to Disagree, these mechanisms are far preferable to a system without political process and devoid of law:
Think for a minute about the alternative—a world without law. A world where it’s everyone for themselves and violence reigns unconstrained. A world with unending cycles of vengeance where the people with the most strength dominate and exploit the people who are most vulnerable. You might point out that this already happens anyway in a world governed by law. And you would be right. But think how much worse it would be if the law no longer constrained any of our worst impulses.
The challenge for all of us is not how to pursue an alternative to politics or law but figuring out how best we can responsibly engage in the ongoing conversation of democracy, even when it’s hard, and even when we don’t like the outcomes:
A world with law—the world we all prefer—means a world of winners and losers in politics, policies, and legal disputes. . . . You may decide that some of your beliefs about these issues are not open to compromise. And sometimes you will find those beliefs on the losing end of a law or policy. In those moments when compromise isn’t possible and you’ve lost, it’s natural to feel like the whole system is rigged or needs to be reimagined. In practice, though, it’s more pragmatic to keep fighting within our law-governed system rather than trying to destroy it. Trying to upend the system usually ends in futility, frustration, or chaos. Few people who don’t already agree with a movement will be convinced by its calls for revolution. These kinds of rallying cries appeal to those whose views already lie in the extremes rather than to those who might be open to persuasion and political change.
When you find yourself on the losing end of a conflict that cannot be resolved through compromise, you don’t need to throw in the towel or blow up the system. An inability to compromise is not always a dead end, and even zero-sum decisions can usually be reconsidered. Use the opportunity to deepen your understanding of what’s at stake in a disagreement and why others see things differently. And recommit to work toward a different solution while continuing in your efforts to persuade others that your position is, in fact, the better one.
Last week, we glimpsed the alternative to having conversations about our differences and working within an existing structure of law. And it is bleak.
So, too, was the assault on the Capitol on January 6, 2021.
And while these violent examples tear at the fabric of our core political institutions, we also weaken those institutions through more mundane forms of cynicism and disdain. Think, for example, of the irresponsible rhetoric from many different corners of politics, journalism, and higher education that questions the legitimacy of elections, duly enacted laws, or judicial appointments. It’s one thing to critique an outcome, policy, or political appointment as wrong or misguided; it’s quite another to contend that the system that produced it is fundamentally illegitimate.
Our country depends on government and laws that are inevitably flawed and sometimes unjust. We can and should critique their shortcomings. We can and should advocate for change where we think it is needed. But each of us should also commit to protecting and strengthening our core political systems—even when we can’t compromise, even when we feel threatened, even when we lose.
Contrary to Clausewitz, war is not politics by other means. War is the alternative to politics. Those who reject politics as a merhod of resolving disputes are left with war.