20 | Democracy Hurts

Context: The following essay is a reflection based on experiences made during a five-day workshop at the Technical University Berlin, called "Democratizing Sustainability". The learning in this course happened through high engagement and interaction between the participants. The sections in italics sometimes refer to scenarios that occurred during the workshop and are not fully explained. For further information about the workshop, please see the previous entry.

Relevance: The democratization of humanitarian aid and development work has become increasingly relevant for donors, policymakers, and implementing institutions. There seems to be a collective understanding of what that entails. At the same time, it is by no means obvious what the goal of this endeavour might be, or whether it is even desirable.

Democracy is often celebrated for its ideals, such as freedom and rights. Regardless of whether democracy lives up to the utopian vision we project upon the idea, it does come at a price. Democracy requires constant engagement, negotiation, and emotional investment. This essay explores the “pain” of democracy by exploring three aspects: the tension between the status quo and change, the intrinsic discomfort and vulnerability to democratic processes, and the role of empathy as a fundamental element for a democratic culture. Through these lenses, I invite you on a journey of understanding democracy as an active and highly demanding way of life that requires personal investment and collective resilience. 

The pain of democracy: navigating the tension between status quo and change.

Democracy hurts. Lingering in the status quo and enduring change are equally painful. It’s only that sometimes one or the other will seem slightly less unpleasant; painful, nevertheless. The democratic struggle seems to be a continuous venture, seeking a narrow path of low resistance and high demographic representation. But what is democratic about this journey? Enforcing change or keeping the status quo are just as likely to be decided by a dictator. The difference may be that, in a demo-cracy the people are involved and invested. People hold a stake in the navigation and decision-making process. What if change is not enforced top-down, but emerges from the bottom-up, for example as an outcome of an anarchist rebellion? The difference in this case may be that the people navigate withing a space of a mutually-agreed-upon framework of collective ruling, as compared to the unrestricted freedom of individuals. This tension between acting as group and individual interests is a painful process. The inherent nature of a process is that it takes time. And because it involves the personal interests of people, pain is inevitable. If democracy was a system entirely detached from people, it certainly would not carry the same potential of pain. Azar Nafisi (2022) says, “[i]t is possible to change policies, it is far more difficult to change attitudes.” Democracy, understood as (part of) a culture rather than a political system, requires personal interest and investment of its participants. If people are disengaged, conformity becomes the rule.

It was deeply disturbing and concerning to see myself following the crowd, throwing a piece of paper in the bucket (task given during the workshop). There was hardly any investment from hardly anyone. No questions asked, no statements made. No discourse. No pain. I keep wondering how many times we have sacrificed a good outcome for a quick and easy short-term solution. We give up the potential for a valuable process for the comfort of conformity. 

Any democratic process is based on discomfort.

It seems like we live in a world where comfort comes first, at all cost. While acknowledging the importance of expressing feelings and raising social issues, we can – and arguably should – not confuse social injustice with the reality of discomfort. There is no such thing as a “human right to feeling comfortable”. One might argue that stepping on each other’s toes from time to time is an inevitable part of g human. Due to the constantly changing environment we live in, at some point the status quo will become painful, which we try to resist. Eventually, it will be so painful, that change will be the path of lower resistance. This process is uncomfortable. Afterwards, ideally, the “new status quo” will bring a short period of time, which potentially qualifies as comfortable. –Until the status quo becomes unbearable again and the process begins anew. This process is inescapable, unavoidable, and tied to the previously described tension between groups and individuals. Ann Widdecombe once said, "Nobody has the right to live their lives being protected from offence or from insult or from hurt feelings. It is an occupational hazard of living in society and if you really can't take it, become a hermit.” Democracy is not to be confused with fairness or justice. 

This became clear to me when Claire (name changed) publicly stated she was “fucking pissed”. It seems like being fucking pissed, hurt, and deeply disturbed is part of democracy. We are vulnerable creatures, and exposure to the hazard of living in society will create pain. I am wondering whether this might be the “good kind of pain”. Like sore muscles after a long run. It hurts, but I have accomplished something. Eventually, the pain will go, but the change remains, and it was needed. I would do it again. Can we seriously expect this kind of vulnerability from one another? Can we expect others not to get hurt? Or must we accept that pain is part of the game, and vulnerability is an integral part of a democratic process?

Empathy as the foundation of democracy.

Following the discussion on vulnerability, should empathy be considered a prerequisite for democracy? Empathy as a starting point for genuine confrontation with one's counterpart. It can be considered the opposite of avoiding stepping on each other's toes (as described above). It is grappling with the fringes of one another, that enables true confrontation. This is by no means easy or safe. In fact, it might well be the opposite. Consensus is unlikely to be the outcome, but a better mutual understanding of the situation and the parties involved. This process takes much time, if practised excessively. “Steelmanning”, for example, can be used to better understand and empathise with another person/group. It is the opposite of creating a so-called “straw-man-argument”, where an easily attackable dummy is artificially created in a debate, only to be destroyed. Strawmanning is used to escape having to deal with a critical and logical reflection of an opponents’ arguments. Steelmanning, on the other hand, challenges the involved parties to create a steelman based on the other's argument. Formulating a strong case for the opponents’ point of view is challenging. It is likely to create a deeper and broader understanding of one another, which ultimately leads to empathy. 

I believe that empathy is a key ingredient in a democratic culture. Empathy is needed for any kind of genuine communication. And once we lose the ability to communicate, we are on a highway to hell. Empathy is also a way of investing in others. If we withdraw from investing in one another, we may lose everything. I believe we have a responsibility to invest ourselves emotionally and engage with our entire being. In the process of trying to live democracy, we experience joy, pain, and physicality. A denial of such dimensions in a kind of encounter, would neglect the cultural and social aspects of democracy. And if democracy really is as much of a culture as it might be a system, we cannot ignore the importance of empathy.

As described in the paragraphs above, democracy goes far beyond the passive participation in a political system. Democracy can be understood as an ongoing and uncomfortable process of shared governance. Enduring the omnipresent struggle between preserving stability and creating change, we are struggling to keep up with empathy and mutual acceptance. Empathy, in particular, is an essential quality to sustain the foundations of democratic culture. If we perceive democracy as a cultural practice, we may be able to invest in this painful process, despite all its flaws and guaranteed discomfort. 

Markus