THE EMERGING FIGURES of legitimacy described in the foregoing chapters are part of a vast “decentering” of democratic systems. No one believes any longer that democracy can be reduced to a system of competitive elections culminating in majority rule. This is an important development. For two centuries the history of democracy was a history of polarization. It was as if the general will existed as a genuine force only when enshrined in a central government by way of an election. This notion was intimately associated with the conditions under which mankind had gained its freedom from the old ruling powers. To overcome those powers it had in many cases been necessary to begin by constructing an inverted replica of them. The development of direct democratic procedures over a long period of time also reflected this concentration of power, because the assumption was that full realization of the democratic ideal had to begin with radicalization of its expression in a single distinctive form.
Today, movement is occurring on a different front. We are witnessing activity across a diverse array of fundamental aspects of democracy. A logic of dissemination, diffraction, and multiplication has supplanted the previous logic of concentration. New forms of generality, equality, and representation have begun to emerge and to combine in a variety of ways. As we have seen, the search for generality through mere aggregation of opinions and wills has proved inadequate, and new negative, reflexive, and embedded forms have begun to develop. We can therefore say that democracy has grown more complex, whereas previously the tendency was toward simplification. But this is not the only departure from the past. The guiding principle of the democratic ideal has also changed.
Historically, the democratic ideal was one of identification of leaders and people. The quality of the representative bond therefore became the fundamental question. For two centuries people sought more effective and faithful representation. Although many liberal and conservative theorists opposed this ambition and posited a more limited regime of competence empowered and legitimated by the ballot box, ordinary citizens continued to see “representative democracy” in terms of identification. This is the root cause of disillusionment with democracy. If identification with a candidate is one of the basic reasons for the voter’s choice, the functional relationship between leaders and people nevertheless remains one of distance. Unless this distinction is recognized, the assumption of a durable regime of identification necessarily leads to frustration. The disappointment of citizens with their governments therefore has a structural cause. It is an inevitable result of the change in frame of reference that takes place when one shifts from the electoral arena to the realm of governmental action.
It is a staple of campaign rhetoric for every candidate to present himself as a “man of the people,” at one with the voters. Government officials are functionally removed from the citizenry, however. During the campaign, the logic of identification is reinforced by the belief that change requires nothing more than the will to change, which is itself linked to an idea of society as simple and homogeneous. Once in power, however, leaders are forced to acknowledge the difficulty of acting in a complex and conflict-ridden society. Election campaigns have a democratic function, but it is a limited one. Candidates set forth their contrasting programs and ideas so that voters can choose the one they find most attractive. In this choice, identification with a candidate, however incomplete, plays a fundamental role. It helps to foster the intrinsically political sentiment of producing something in common with others. Beyond the relationship with one candidate or another, what is at stake is the constitution of identity-within-difference: the voter defines himself as belonging to one group rather than another. Identification thus produces citizens. It is the driving force behind a fundamentally democratic exercise.
By contrast, government action is defined in practice by the fact that society as a whole becomes an object for those in power. The problem is not simply that practice may differ from prior promises (though that obviously matters). It is also that the nature of the relationship between leaders and citizens has changed: the people are now “the governed”. The bond between elected officials and the governed thus has a character of its own. Rather than attempt to carry over the bond of identification from the electoral to the governmental sphere, it is better to recognize the functional necessity of distance in the latter and to give this new relationship its own specifically democratic form.
Democracies have recently begun to move in this direction, but the changes have not been clearly formulated or gathered in a coherent perspective. Hence there is an urgent need to develop a picture of what I will call the democracy of appropriation, whose basic elements are profoundly different from those of the democracy of identification. We need ways to correct, offset, and structure the distance between leaders and people in such a way that citizens can control and direct the government by means other than bestowing a mandate via the ballot box. No vital democracy is possible unless these two aspects of democratic politics are distinguished and each is limited to its proper functions.
Three main aspects of the democracy of appropriation deserve to be mentioned:
In the realm of citizen activism, distrust plays an important role. This stands in sharp contrast to the electoral moment, which is the time for expressions of trust. Distrust gives rise to a range of what I have elsewhere called “counterdemocratic” practices: oversight, impeachment, and judgment. These are ways in which society corrects and exerts pressure on the actions of government.
In the realm of institutions, the agencies of indirect democracy are important actors. They express social generality in forms different from that of the ballot box. Here, the majoritarian logic is relatively less important. Oversight bodies, regulatory agencies, and constitutional courts thus define a new democratic horizon.
Finally, the insistence that leaders conduct themselves democratically constrains their actions in ways independent of their mode of selection.
Taken together, these three forms of the democracy of appropriation repair the major flaws in the majoritarian democracy of the ballot box. First, they are permanent, whereas the defining characteristic of elections is that they are sporadic. They also complement the majoritarian principle by emphasizing the general interest and the need to include all citizens, even members of the minority. What emerges, then, is what might be called a realistic positive theory of democracy. Realistic, because it takes account of the actual behavior of elected officials and their distance from the people they govern. But positive, because it points the way toward an effective social reappropriation of power. This is the key to overcoming what has proved to be a recurring feature of the history of democracy: the alternation of moments of hope (generally associated with elections) and feelings of disillusionment and bitter disappointment. Or, to put it another way, the alternation of brief phases of commitment and involvement with long periods of withdrawal. This theory also offers a solid alternative to the minimalist realist philosophy of theorists such as Karl Popper and Joseph Schumpeter, which has for many years been presented as the only consistent and unified theory of democratic politics.
Another way in which the new democratic theory is more realistic is that we can now go beyond the traditional approach to the separation of powers, which has proved unsatisfactory. It is no longer possible to argue that the executive and legislative branches are truly separate.1 The actual division of powers in contemporary democracies resides in the existence of counterdemocratic and indirect democratic institutions in tension with the sphere of majoritarian powers. This is the force of what I have called the “mixed regime of the moderns”.2 The distinctive contributions of the institutions examined in this book has only begun to be recognized. A vast amount of work remains to be done to describe this mixed regime properly. The first essential step should be to give a systematic comparative account of these types of institutions and the problems they face. Once we better understand their virtues as well as their failures and unintended consequences, we will be in a better position to suggest democratic reforms. We should be wary of discussing incompletely analyzed experiments as if they were full-fledged democratic institutions. There is still a great deal to learn about the structure, rules, and status of these entities. The categories set forth above cannot be fully fleshed out until this work has been done. This is also essential if these institutions of indirect democracy are to become socially appropriable. Citizens will not believe that such institutions express their wishes and serve their interests unless proof of their utility becomes part of a universally comprehensible and shared theory of democracy. Expectations about the behavior of leaders must also be clearly spelled out in a reasoned account of the art of government. If society wants government to be its instrument in a more explicit and comprehensible way, this, too, is essential.
We also need to explore the ways in which the new institutions can be manipulated or go astray. A lucid understanding of democracy requires both a broader vision of their role and understanding of how innovation can go wrong. And lucidity is essential if we hope to democratize this democratization: democracy means permanent debate about the causes of its failures and shortcomings.
Bear in mind, moreover, that this revolution in legitimacy and everything that goes with it must face the omnipresent threat of “unpolitical democracy”. We have already encountered various impoverished and purely negative forms of counterdemocratic activity. A narrow understanding of the institutions of indirect democracy can also lead to across-the-board rejection of “the politics of politicians”—a sure sign of the unpolitical. Vigilance is imperative.
Indeed, a range of indicators, including recent work by a number of political scientists, suggest that this is a central problem. For example, a study conducted in the United States in the 1990s showed that the public viewed Congress as the least legitimate of American political institutions, even though senators and congressmen are directly elected by the people.3 Still more troubling was the fact that Congress came in for even more criticism than it had thirty years earlier, in the 1960s, at a time when it was less professional, less transparent, and more vulnerable to manipulation by the parties (not to mention a higher level of corruption and a greater prevalence of racist and sexist attitudes).To explain this, the authors of the study hypothesized that greater transparency had contributed to the negative perception of the institution, because partisan clashes, conflicts of interest, and deal making among members had become more visible. Conversely, the Supreme Court was held in higher esteem because it seemed more united and acted more as a unit, even though minority opinions could be expressed. The presidency also rated higher than Congress for similar reasons. Debates and conflicts within the White House are not easily perceived from outside. Presidential decisions do not appear to be the result of hard-won compromise among divergent views. They seem less driven by special interests and more concerned with the general interest.
A short time later, another study confirmed these findings.4 It showed that citizens felt an aversion for politics, defined as the sphere of partisan confrontation. Hence citizens did not want to become more involved in politics; greater participation was not their goal. What they wanted was leaders who were competent and disinterested and whose first priority was to serve the general interest and not their personal interests. Direct democracy was not the stuff of their dreams. They had no difficulty accepting the division of labor between leaders and people but wanted leaders to live up to their end of the bargain. Citizens were satisfied with occasional elections and “stealth democracy” but not with partisan leadership. Other research abundantly confirmed this revulsion against “politics”. This raises a fundamental question about the meaning of democracy.
This rejection of politics, defined as a realm of partisan machinations and personal calculation, is paradoxically echoed by political leaders themselves, who repeatedly declare themselves to be nonpartisan in order to prove their devotion to the public good. Politics is thus repeatedly discredited by the very politicians who compete so ferociously for the favor of the voters. Partisan conflict is delegitimated, yet the other institutions of generality are not recognized. This destructive confusion needs to end. The clash of platforms and values needs to be restored to a position of respect, while at the same time the role of independent agencies, constitutional courts, and other authorities needs to be acknowledged. Progress toward greater democracy means reaffirming the importance of decisive choices while simultaneously granting value to more unanimous decisions. The two are not mutually exclusive; together, they constitute a positive-sum game. The partisan divisions of majoritarian democracy will make more sense and be accepted more readily if the realm in which they are applicable is clearly delineated. And the role of countermajoritarian institutions will also be accepted more fully if they are set clearly in a broader democratic context. Democracy must make room for both conflict and consensus. But this cannot happen unless the distinction between the two is clear and each is linked to specific institutions. This does not mean “depoliticizing democracy”.5 Indeed, democracy needs to be repoliticized, so that politics plays a more central role. This implies both better democratic regulation and more attention to the construction of democracy. Whereas regulation is more procedural, construction is more substantive, because what is at stake is the type of society that needs to be built.
The increasing complexity of democracy is significant in more than a functional sense. It also reflects the recent revival of a range of procedures and institutions that preceded the advent of universal suffrage. For instance, we have seen the emergence of democratized forms of representation that date from before the election of mandate-bearing representatives. Independent agencies can be compared to forms of virtual representation found in the eighteenth-century English constitution. Reflexive institutions are in a way modern revivals of ancient guardians of the law. Electoral generality has been enriched by ancient traditions of resistance to despotic regimes, incorporating earlier definitions of the common good, the social interest, and public reason. Finally, there has been a resurgence of the interest in the virtues of sovereigns, and especially their concern with the welfare of the people—characteristic features of civic humanism and republicanism. It is as if democracy, having at last overcome the regimes that preceded it, is now attempting to retrieve some of their more positive aspects. Contemporary democracy can thus be seen as a political form that has assimilated and elaborated the entire history of man’s quest for freedom, emancipation, and autonomy.
This leads to a reconsideration of the very term democracy. Although it is now universally identified with the idea of political good and invoked by almost every type of regime, its definition remains problematic, unless one is willing to settle for vague formulas (e.g., democracy as the “power of the people”). There is scarcely a word in the political vocabulary whose definition is subject to more variations in practice. Indeed, that is why it is so often coupled with an adjective, which supports it as a kind of crutch. Like an insipid dish whose flavor depends on some added spice, democracy often finds itself linked to descriptive modifiers such as “liberal,” “people’s,” “real,” “republican,” “radical,” or “socialist”. That is also why it is so difficult to distinguish between democracy and its pathologies: regimes that are different in every other respect nevertheless all claim to be champions of democracy. Yet the word continues to connote problems as well as solutions. It has always coupled good qualities with others that are more ambiguous. The source of confusion is not that democracy is a remote, utopian ideal about which everyone agrees, with the only differences having to do with how that ideal is to be realized. Rather, the ambiguity of the term has been part of its essential history for two centuries.
Indeed, both the abuse of the term and the confusion about its meaning stem from the diversity of approaches to the subject. For example, it is common to see a contrast between democracy defined as an exercise of collective power and democracy defined in terms of guaranteed individual freedoms. If we are to overcome this kind of ambiguity, we must grasp democracy in all its complexity. It can be separately, concurrently, or simultaneously a civic activity, a regime, a form of society, and a mode of government. Furthermore, each of these four dimensions can be perceived in several different ways. For example, civic activity clearly includes elections, but in a broader sense it also encompasses more common forms of engagement as well as activities from the realm we have described as “counterdemocratic”. With respect to institutions, the various interpretations of the principle of generality lead to different conceptualizations of the democratic regime. In thinking of democracy as a form of society, one can emphasize guarantees of basic rights or broaden the concept to include Tocqueville’s idea of an “equality of conditions,” with all the contemporary nuances that can be attached to this notion. The grammar of democracy is complex, because it describes a system with many dimensions and forms. In view of all this, it is easy to understand how it is possible to define democracy in so many almost contradictory ways—even to the point of omitting such fundamental pillars as universal suffrage and individual rights (or, conversely, focusing solely on the question of elections).
Is it possible to aim for clarity in the midst of such confusion? Some have suggested that the idea of “government of the people” needs to be supplemented by the ideas of “government by the people” and “for the people”.6 This is not very precise and in any case does not take us very far. The problem is important, because confusion can encourage a highly debatable relativism. Confusion also encourages those who would draw normative conclusions from singular experiences. The only way out of this problematic alternation between untenable relativism and normative presumption is to give as thorough as possible a definition of democracy—one that includes all its dimensions and forms. Democracy then points toward a social organization that is still a work in progress, which cannot claim to have been fully achieved anywhere. This is the only way to overcome the clash between arrogant Eurocentrism and suspect “differentialist” rhetoric. The only possible universal definition of democracy is one that radicalizes its demands.7
Conversely, if we limit ourselves to a minimal definition of democracy, we also limit our understanding by confining it to particular cases. In this book I have tried to examine both the regime and government dimensions of democracy, having previously taken a fresh look at the various aspects of citizen activity. The next logical step will be to look at democracy as the constitution of a political community. Ultimately, this is where everything comes together. The threat of the unpolitical, the antipolitical, and depoliticization cannot be dealt with until we explore yet another political dimension of democracy: the contested emergence of the norms of membership and redistribution in terms of which citizenship is defined. In a forthcoming book I will therefore take up the question of the nation and the changing shape of democracy in the twenty-first century.
1 For example, compare the classic analysis of M.J.C. Vile, Constitutionalism and the Separation of Powers (1967; reprint Indianapolis, IN: Liberty Fund, 1998) with more recent work such as Frank Vibert, The Rise of the Unelected: Democracy and the New Separation of Powers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007); and Alain Pariente, ed., La Séparation des pouvoirs: théorie contestée et pratique renouvelée (Paris: Dalloz, 2007).
2 See Counter-Democracy, pp. 318–320.
3 John R. Hibbing and Elizabeth Theiss-Morse, Congress as Public Enemy: Public Attitudes toward American Political Institutions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).
4 John Hibbing and Elizabeth Theiss-Morse, Stealth Democracy: American’s Beliefs about How Government Should Work.
5 Philip Pettit, “Depoliticizing Democracy,” Ratio Juris, vol. 17, no. 1, March 2004. Although Pettit uses this unfortunate expression, his argument is in fact somewhat more subtle.
6 Note that Article 2 of the French Constitution of 1958 combines all three approaches: “The principle [of the Republic] is: government of the people, by the people, and for the people”. Abraham Lincoln earlier used the same formula.
7 Pierre Rosanvallon, “Democratic Universalism as a Historical Problem,” Constellations, vol. 16, no. 4, December 2009.