The Parchment Barrier

Democracy doesn't work by itself.

And it doesn't work on autopilot.

We've been lulled into a false sense of security by a comforting fiction: clever constitutional engineering - the right checks, perfect balances, and ideal separation of powers - will save us from our own worst impulses. If we just arrange the machinery of government with sufficient ingenuity, it will run smoothly - forever - without asking anything from its constituents.

And that is a dangerous delusion.

No document, however brilliantly conceived, can resist people who view its constraints and its needs as needling inconveniences, rather than sacred boundaries and responsibilities. Constitutional democracy is high-maintenance. It only works if the people who are meant to care, actually care - and express their investment through active stewardship. Not just when it's convenient, not just when their side wins or loses, not just when they feel like it, but always.

What the United States is witnessing now, what every democracy is facing in the middle of a global backslide, is the exposure of the constitutional system's fundamental vulnerability: it cannot withstand the destructive pressure of a populace who have lost interest. Who have lost faith. Who no longer believe in the project itself. Who have simply stopped showing up.

When the framers designed the U.S. Constitution, they weren't naïve. They understood the corrupting nature of power. They built elaborate safeguards and distributed authority across competing institutions. They created a system of government that, on paper, should restrain the accumulation of power. But the whole enterprise ultimately depends on what they called "civic virtue" - a genuine commitment to the common good over narrow self-interest.

In his farewell address, George Washington sent a warning.

"However [political parties] may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion."

Washington knew that once factions cared more about winning than preserving the system, the entire democratic project would be in jeopardy.

He was right.

When enough people – especially those in positions of power – decide that maintaining democracy is less important than achieving their immediate goals, no constitutional structure can save it. A constitution becomes what James Madison aptly called a "parchment barrier" - impressive in theory but powerless against those who no longer respect its authority.

We've mistaken procedural democracy for substantive democracy, reducing our system to formal processes - elections, courts, and legislatures - while neglecting the cultural foundations that make these institutions work: the commitment to civic participation, the willingness to accept defeat gracefully, the recognition of political opponents as legitimate rather than existential threats, and the understanding that sacrificing short-term power preserves long-term stability.

These aren't optional features. They're the substrate in which constitutional democracy grows. Without them, the formal structures become hollow shells, easily weaponized by anyone whose cynicism views caring about democratic ideals is a unilateral disadvantage.

Washington's warnings have materialized, throughout the democratic world, through collective negligence. Too few citizens cared enough to prevent his fears from becoming their reality.

The progressive movement now faces a dragon's choice. When one side abandons democracy, and the other upholds it, the rule-breakers gain a tactical advantage. But if both sides abandon it, its extinction becomes inevitable. The democratic recession we're experiencing across the globe stems from this fundamental asymmetry.

The authoritarian playbook exploits the machinery of democracy against itself. It uses democratic processes to undermine democratic substance. It leverages judicial independence to capture courts. It uses free speech to spread disinformation. It uses elections to install leaders who then methodically dismantle the guardrails that might constrain them.

And it works because not enough people care enough to stop it.

This isn't fatalism. It's an warning bell, and it's being rung by journalists, writers, academics, activists, and believers everywhere.

Constitutional democracy needs constant tending. It needs defenders who care deeply about preserving it - even when doing so doesn't serve their immediate interests, even when it goes against them. It needs a populace educated enough to recognize authoritarian tactics. It needs civic organizations robust enough to resist governmental overreach. It needs parties principled enough to place systemic survival above partisan advantage. It needs checks and limitations on technology to prevent it from becoming the destructive, violent, oppositional force currently tearing the world apart.

Most of all, it needs a critical mass of citizens who deeply and genuinely care about democratic values - as lived commitments, not abstract concepts they can hand wave away.

No constitutional engineer, however brilliant, can design a system that operates without this foundation of civic commitment. A constitution can distribute power and create friction against its abuse, but it cannot - by itself - generate the will to uphold democratic norms when short-term incentives push toward their abandonment.

Part of the appeal of authoritarianism is its simplicity - the promise that one strong leader can cut through complexity and solve every problem. Democracy's messiness, frustrating incrementalism, and constant compromise are features, not bugs, but they make for a hard sell, even if the alternative is worse.

Authoritarians never mention what happens after the "strong leader" consolidates power. The corruption that inevitably follows. The silencing of dissent. The capture of institutions by cronies. The erosion of rights for anyone outside the favored group. But these are the consequences of a populace who have stopped caring enough to participate.

The strength and survival of a constitutional system depend on whether people in that system give a damn.

About upholding laws, even when breaking them offers a short-term advantage.

About prioritizing truth over convenient fiction.

About defending their democratic rights.

About doing the sustained, unglamorous work of maintaining democracy.

No document, however well drafted, can save a citizenry if they won't save themselves. The machinery of democracy cannot run without the fuel of democratic commitment.

That fuel comes from us - in every democratic nation - or it doesn't come at all.