This isn't a review but a (very long) rant on the elections, taking inspiration and arguments from David Van Reybrouck's book. It won't be any better than the other half a million opinion pieces you see all over the internet right now. I am already imagining myself cringing as I read this in a couple of months, but I wrote it with the kind of idealistic conviction so typical for teenagers, a sort of conviction that I felt was long lost to me. So I'm posting this in the perhaps vain hope that this particular brand of naivety comes with a certain charm, and also because I already feel it fading. Not one week after what I called an apocalyptic event and I already feel myself slipping into the same complacency that would prevent me from writing anything about it under more normally abnormal circumstances. This complacency, the subtle but nagging feeling of "Don't worry so much about it" already got me to drop my initial five-star-rating fuelled with burning enthusiasm to a cooler 4-star assessment. But it's not just conviction and naivety that made me write this. It's also this really good book's fault for giving me the feeling I have an "informed opinion". But I might be wrong, so just for the record: I warmly welcome disagreements in the comments section.
My world is spinning. Last week Donald Trump has been elected as the leader of the free world. A couple of months ago the United Kingdom chose to leave the European Union. Left and right voices are rising up, encouraged by these examples, shouting that the time for a change has come. True change. The people want their country back. The people want their life back. The time is now.
Is the hangover that so many people are experiencing merely a reality check? After all, we can’t expect to live in a democracy and to always be on the winning side. Opinions shift. Facts evolve. Zoom in on public opinion and the monolith becomes an intricate web of interests, feelings, reasons, problems, problems, problems. The idea that this whole system would converge into something that I personally feel happy about, or at least something I can live with, has proven to be a lie, and not for the first time either. I’ve woken up and smelt the roses, and boy, were they not roses.
In events like these, where everyone rushes to their Facebook status to either gloat or cry, I tend to curl up in a metaphorical ball (metaphorical because I have the agility of a plank) and let the mass hysteria pass before I poke my head out again. But this time it feels different. The time, it really feels like now, doesn’t it? It doesn’t happen often that you feel as if you’re living in a history book, that you’re part of a story future kids will be learning from. If we’re lucky. In any case it doesn’t feel like the time to be curling up in any kind of geometrical figure, but get out there and do something. But what?
People were unhappy. Now even more people seem unhappy. People were angry. Now even more people seem angry. Why did democracy let them all down? The democracy with which I was brought up was told to be stable. “The least bad system of governance” was just a modest way of saying it’s the best. Checks kept everything in check, balances did the rest. Why does it feel as if the whole thing is collapsing right under my feet? And why am I not all that surprised about it either?
We can blame racism. We can blame Hillary for not trying enough. We can blame the DNC. We can blame corruption. We can blame Trump for exploiting gullibility. We can blame the FBI. We can blame sexism and glass ceilings. We can blame the media for being part of the problem, for helping cause the problem, for making things worse. We can blame Wikileaks. We can blame the independent parties. We can blame the Russians. We can blame the American election process. We can blame Trump’s opponents for not adequately addressing the problems his voters are contending with. We can blame the Mexicans. We can blame the high and mighty establishment unaware of what goes on in the real world. We can blame the mockery and disdain towards Trump and those who voted for him. We can blame voters’ ignorance, caused by the education system and fuelled by the media. We can blame people rushing to find people to blame. We can blame each other. We can blame humanity and its inherent evil, lose all faith and watch the world burn.
We can also hope. Hope that four years from now we’ll all be laughing about how we threw a hissy fit over what ended up to be just business as usual. Hope that things won’t be so bad. Not everyone liked Obama either, not when he first got elected, not when he got re-elected. People didn’t like Bush either. People were devastated when Al Gore lost. But every time people on the losing side hung in there, hoping, knowing, they’d let their voice be heard later on.
There are so many people to blame and things to hope for it hardly seems sensible to blame it on any one thing in particular or to simply hope for a particular scenario to play out. Let’s just agree to move on and contain the fire. But where are the hoses? Where’s the water? Why do we feel so powerless? And why did some people let that powerlessness turn into frustration? Did frustration find an outlet in Brexit and Trump votes? Where will current frustrations with recent democratic outcomes find their own outlet during the next elections? It was while thinking about these questions I was reminded of David Van Reybrouck’s pamphlet for a truer democracy: “Against Elections”.
This thing we call “democracy”, it feels to me like this big glass dome under which we’re stuck. We’re all pointing fingers at each other while the air gets staler by the minute. Our voices bounce back off the invisible walls and the only thing to comfort us are our own echoes. We can see the sky full of its promises, but something is holding us back. But how can democracy be the problem? It’s the very thing that was designed to lift us up, make our voices heard, and make us stand together in the face of problems. The system where the power of the majority respects the minority is turning into a battleground rather than the garden in which we all hold hands and dance in a circle. One tyranny of a majority leads to new displeased majorities eager to start their own tyranny during the next cycle. And people get tired.
This feeling of being stuck under a dome, the feeling that it doesn’t really matter how we vote or what we say, it’s got a name. Democratic Fatigue Syndrome, which I’ll be calling DFS from now on. I don’t know about you, but I know I’ve got me a case of the DFS. And I’m pretty sure a lot of people who voted for Trump had DFS. And the Bernie supporters? They probably got it too. And the Hillary voters? If they didn’t have it before, something tells me they have it now. Don’t even get me started on the independents. But where the DFS is perhaps most obvious is in the percentage of people who simply don’t show up to vote. According to the CNN, 45% of voters didn’t live up to their name during the presidential elections. I live in a country where I HAVE TO go vote, but even here 10% don’t show up or cast invalid votes.
In order to get rid of this DFS, we run in circles. First, we think it’s the people who are the problem: the politicians. The political professionals who only take their own interests to heart, who only care about getting re-elected, their careers coming before the general interest. But the distrust is mutual. Politicians don’t trust their electorate to do the right thing, to reach the right conclusions, they try to coat necessary policy in jibberjabber, they appear ever less in non-scripted debates, they don’t admit to making mistakes unless they’ve become a publicly known fact. And who rises up in this atmosphere of distrust? The populist. The bomb thrown in the establishment. And afterwards? Chaos, uncertainty, more of the same, upheavals, who knows? In any case, a populist winning is rarely the end and even more rarely a happy ending. Promises are broken, the populist becomes a politician himself and we’re back to where we started.
Others are calling for a technocracy. Forget about politicians being an environment expert during one legislation and a finance expert for the next. Who can believe such people? We need REAL experts, who base their policies on facts, without having to care about public opinion and the next elections. They’re doing the right thing because science and studies tell them they are. As someone with deep concerns for the climate this is a solution that often seemed very sensible to me. Their efficiency would foster their legitimacy when the results of their work are clear to the public. But we don’t know everything do we? Science hasn’t reached that point, where moral choices are guided by objective facts. The system has to turn to the public again and hear from them: what is the right thing to do?
So we end up with elections. The basis of our representative democracy. While in the beginning it was a means to reach the people, to hear what they think, elections now have become part and parcel of the argument that the politicians are working for us, with our approval and trust, and that countries are being run as per their peoples’ vision. Short-term election cycle thinking and the party interests we started off with are back again. Voters’ opinions, in great part formed by the media culture, are only loosely based on facts and more on incidents, be they of the pussy grabbing or email sending type. These voters might as well be uninformed, for all the good such opinions do to the general interest. Then we put some x’s in some boxes next to some names and the fossil fuel that are elections keep the democracy engine running.
I don’t feel empowered by elections. That’s the bottom line. Even on the off-chance a politician I voted for gets an office I strongly care about I end up disappointed. Not because things don’t go my way, mind you, but because I feel certain arguments aren’t even being brought to the table. I do feel empowered by the idea of democracy, of both majority and minority having a say, but despite the growing role of civil society, we don’t seem to quite get there. So what alternative is there in organising a democracy that doesn’t leave the people feeling so powerless?
David Van Reybrouck found an answer in what is called the “deliberative democracy”, a Utopia (as of now, at least) where voters’ opinions are informed and weighed and duly taken into account. The basis of this system is that of the lottery. Yes, you heard me, a lottery. The first time I read this the idea seemed utterly ludicrous to me, but as I said, my world is spinning and the case for why our democracy is failing so hard is being made so well, both in the book as well as in election results, it makes me consider the formulation of any alternative as a brave and necessary exercise. And frankly, on a second read, it's not so bad.
The proposed solution is a complicated one to explain in a review, so I'd have to urge you to read the book for that, but in a nutshell it gives everyone the same chance to participate actively and in an informed way. Six bodies of government would be set-up, out of which five would consist of citizens picked by a lottery and one by volunteers who feel strongly about certain topics, who studied them and are informed. What results is a robust albeit complicated structure of power where civilians are empowered to take decisions for themselves, for society, without career strategies and other personal considerations that objectively undermine the general interest, and everyone gets a fair shot and being in a position of power, of which there is very little given how it is dispersed.
I’m not a political scientist, but David Van Reybrouck’s book presents the history of democracy, enumerates arguments of why and where things went wrong, and proposes a solution of how to move ahead in such a way even I could fathom it. Perhaps the presented solution has got something utopic about it, but all signs point to the system being seriously sick. Maybe the time really is now. Not to reach to tried-and-failed solutions of populism, but time for something more radical. The time to fully acknowledge the weaknesses of our current democratic systems and to dare put them into question. I don’t know how much will come of this deliberative democracy in practical terms, but reading this felt like a crack in the democracy dome, a breath of fresh air. I can only hope the ideas will keep coming and democracy will prove to be as flexible as its basic principles demand from it.