“I have been a tireless defender of democracy all my life because I am convinced it is the political system most conducive to peace, sustainable development, the rule of law, and the respect for human rights – the three pillars of any healthy and democratic society.”
— Kofi Annan
That’s the whole deal, right there. Democracy is more than a process; it’s a promise. In its best form, it’s about people and whether their lives are made better, freer, and more just by the institutions that claim to serve them.
But lately, we’ve seen a drift away from democracy as meaning, and toward democracy as machinery. There is a growing belief that if the economic engine is running smoothly, then the system is functioning correctly. That if the quarterly reports look good, if the GDP ticks upward, if profits are maximized, then the rest will take care of itself.
This is a painfully narrow definition – one that insists human beings are worth only what they can produce. Or that communities exist to serve markets, not the other way around. Or that public life should be measured in efficiency instead of empathy. Countless Americans have built lucrative careers through this singular frame.
When we treat democracy like a machine, we forsake its soul. We forget that this thing of ours – this nation we’re trying to build together – isn’t solely about economic output. It’s also about dignity, connection, and belonging.
This sentiment faces severe headwinds in our current environment. Many of us believe our country would be better run like a sweatshop than like a sanctuary. Many of us view our differences as a means to exploit division. Many of us view our democracy as a tool to wield, not a trust to uphold. Many of us want the economy to be the only story.
In May 2024, Democratic Senator Elissa Slotkin publicly vented frustration over her party’s messaging, saying she was “going to punch someone” if she heard one more person tout the strong economy while working-class families still struggled to afford the basics, all while fundamental civil rights were being rolled back in states around the country. Slotkin’s (largely ignored) warning about the growing disconnect between top-line economic stats and everyday democratic legitimacy presaged the era we’re now trudging through – a period where everything is reduced to a dollar sign.
Of course, prosperity matters. But prosperity without purpose is hollow. Growth without justice is dangerous. Wealth without inclusion invites instability, not to mention widespread economic pain. We must reclaim a vision of democracy that delivers for everyone, not just the few, and that our collective civic life is largely built on dignity, not data.
That means rewriting the script.
First, let’s change the way we talk about people. Our words shape our values, and our values shape our policies. Let’s drop the language inspired by a definition of Americans as “human capital.” We, the people, are not assets on a spreadsheet. We are neighbors, creators, caregivers, and beloved community.
Second, let’s redefine what we value as contribution. A mother raising children, a young person mentoring others in their neighborhood, a retiree organizing meals at the local shelter – all of these are acts of powerful and responsible citizenship. They’re essential, but too often, they’re invisible in the way we measure success.
Third, let’s tell a new story. Not one of extraction, but of interdependence. Not one of scarcity, but of shared abundance. We have to stop asking, “What can we get from people?” and start asking, “What can we build together?”
Fourth, let’s design systems that reflect our highest aspirations. That includes reimagining everything from how we educate to how we vote to how we care for one another. Democracy is about outcomes, of course. But at its core, it’s about how we treat each other along the way.
Finally, let’s restore the sacred. Civic life is a story, a ritual, a gathering, a call-and-response across generations. So let’s make space for joy, reflection, and for the kinds of practices that allow us to feel seen and stay connected. Practices that remind us we are not alone.
Democracy is not a spectator sport, as the saying goes. At Civic Nebraska, we’ve put our twist on that phrase – Democracy is a contact sport. That connection is something we do, rather than produce. And we do it best when we show up for one another with hope, with courage, and with a whole lot of love.
Our rare and precious democracy shouldn’t be something we resolve to keep oiled and humming so long as it produces. Our democracy is a living covenant – a daily promise that each of us matters, that we are not defined solely by what we make, but by what we make possible.
