We often mistake democracy for a spectacle. We reduce it to the drama of election night, the fiery speech, the partisan skirmish. But this is merely the surface. The true essence of democracy—its stability, its fairness, its very soul—lies not in the actors on the stage, but in the silent, sturdy foundations of the stage itself: our democratic institutions.
It is time we recognize that these institutions are not boring bureaucratic appendages. They are the bedrock. And that bedrock is cracking. Our focus on political personalities has blinded us to the slow, insidious erosion of the very frameworks that guarantee our freedoms and ensure a government that is truly of, by, and for the people.
Consider what these institutions do. They are the rulebook and the referees, the mechanisms that transform the ideal of self-rule into a functioning reality. A constitution is just a piece of parchment without an independent judiciary willing to strike down unconstitutional laws, regardless of who proposed them. An election is just a popularity contest without an independent electoral commission that ensures every vote is counted fairly and the results are respected. The promise of accountability is empty without a free press that investigates power and informs the public without fear or favor.
These structures are designed to do one thing above all else: constrain power. The founders of modern democracies, understanding the corrosive nature of absolute authority, built systems of checks and balances. The legislature checks the executive, the courts check the legislature, and a vigilant media checks them all. This friction is not a bug; it is the defining feature of a free society. It is what prevents a temporary majority or a charismatic leader from trampling on minority rights or bending the state to their personal will.
Yet, today, we see a global playbook for undermining this bedrock. It’s called democratic backsliding, and it’s dangerously effective. It doesn’t always arrive with tanks in the streets; more often, it comes with a smile and a lawyer.
It happens when leaders dismiss legitimate judicial rulings as the work of “enemies of the people.” It happens when they pack courts with loyalists, attack the credibility of a free press as “fake news,” and hollow out independent agencies—from ethics watchdogs to statistical bureaus—replacing professionalism with patronage. These actions are often wrapped in the language of populism, claiming to be for the “will of the people” while systematically dismantling the institutions that give that will a lasting and fair expression.
The most alarming part? This erosion relies on our complacency. We take these institutions for granted until they are gone. We celebrate the peaceful transfer of power as a political tradition, forgetting that it is not a tradition but a profound testament to institutional strength—a norm so deeply ingrained that the loser accepts defeat. When that norm is broken, when the integrity of elections is baselessly questioned, the damage to public trust can be catastrophic.
So, what is to be done? The reinforcement of our democratic bedrock requires a shift in focus, from the ephemeral to the fundamental.
First, we must change the conversation. We need to stop obsessing over daily political scandals and start asking harder questions: Are our courts truly independent? Are our electoral systems secure and accessible? Are journalists able to do their jobs without harassment? We must judge our leaders not only on their policies but on their commitment to preserving and strengthening these institutional guardrails.
Second, we must actively defend institutional norms. This is a task for every citizen, not just politicians. It means supporting independent journalism through subscriptions, advocating for reforms that depoliticize key agencies, and calling out attacks on the rule of law, regardless of which party they come from. Democracy is not a spectator sport.
Finally, we must recognize that institutions are ultimately about people. They are sustained by public servants—judges, civil servants, election officials, reporters—who uphold their oaths and ethics every day. They deserve our support and respect, not our reflexive cynicism.
The great American jurist Learned Hand once said, “Liberty lies in the hearts of men and women; when it dies there, no constitution, no law, no court can save it.” He was right. Our institutions are the vessels of our collective commitment to liberty. They are the silent guardians, but they cannot guard themselves. Their strength is a reflection of our own vigilance. If we allow the bedrock to crumble, the entire edifice of democracy will surely fall.