It is striking how often we speak of democracy as an “ethical ideal.” We appear to have internalised, almost as a universal truth, the belief that democracy is something we must invariably strive for—so much so that “undemocratic” has become virtually synonymous with “illegitimate.” We routinely invoke it as a moral standard and often find it appropriate, even obligatory, to rebuke those who fail to operate “democratically.” Yet, most political commentary today reduces this idea to a simplistic binary—“democratic versus undemocratic”—and the depth of our excitable postmodern political discourse rarely reaches beyond superficial populism and petty squabbles over voting ages or redistricting.

Admittedly, such simplification may have once been justified. When democracy first emerged as a political concept, its ambition was to replace inept and self-serving aristocrats or kings with a system of broad civic participation. Undoubtedly, a noble aspiration. But as with any hegemonic discourse, there comes a time when one must pause and ask: what other “truths” are being crowded out, and to what end?

My contention is this: in its current form, democracy is not only fragile but frequently illegitimate—insofar as its ethical premises remain largely unfulfilled. In most “Western democracies,” we inhabit what Aristotle described as a defective polity, where governance is not driven by virtue or wisdom but by special interests and and whoever "shouts loudest". We now risk replacing incompetent and selfish monarchs with an equally incompetent and selfish public—unable or unwilling to check the excesses of those holding institutional or financial power.

This, in essence, is the problem: the ethical legitimacy of democracy does not lie in equality alone, but in the ability of a political community to enable justice for each individual while collectively pursuing the common good. That is: justice must be not only distributive—caring for the most vulnerable members of society—but also meritocratic, rewarding genuine merit and contribution.

A good society thus depends on both a particular type of governance and a certain calibre of policymaker. As Aristotle reminds us, the number of people who should participate in policy-making depends on how many wise and competent citizens are available—and on the degree to which decentralised decision-making is required to handle societal complexity. Certainly, it is correct to favour governance forms that engage more citizens, as this can foster a richer public life. But such participation is only virtuous when it is grounded in moral maturity and capability.

Contemporary liberals or libertarians may champion the notion of “radical democracy”—governance of all by consensus, rooted in individual choice, Hayekian market epistemology, or the supposed “wisdom of the crowd.” Yet these claims falter. The first fails to meet the ethical criteria of a good society. The second is naïvely reductionist. And the third is fundamentally unsuited to resolving complex value-laden dilemmas. The government of a nation is a serious affair and not a self-service store for postmodern egotistical bigotry.

This holds equally true for organisational governance in modern organisation . In many discussions, I encounter enthusiastic calls for “industrial democracy,” yet these are rarely accompanied by any serious reflection on the preconditions for such governance, the contributions expected from organisational citizens, or workers, or indeed the aims and quality of competent decision-making itself.

If we continue to ignore these issues, we should not be surprised when mediocrity prevails—manifest in populist rhetoric, inept political leadership, and unaccountable special interest groups. More worryingly, we should be prepared for the inevitable moment when a charismatic authoritarian “saviour” emerges, promising to “fix” the broken system. We must remind ourselves: democracy is not an end in itself. The true ethical ideal is a just and good society. Democracy can serve this goal—but only with hard work.

That effort entails investing in moral and civic education, so citizens are both competent and conscientious. It demands transparency, information sharing, and robust public discourse and dialectics—without which sound judgment is impossible. And, of course, it relies on both elected officials and voters to possess not only technical competence but also exceptional character. As John F. Kennedy aptly noted: “The ignorance of one voter in a democracy impairs the security of all.” There is no good society without good citizens.

Finally, this requires acknowledging a hard truth: not everyone who has an opinion is necessarily entitled to co-decide. And—before anyone reaches for the fascism label—it is neither authoritarian nor anti-democratic to demand that those who govern or participate in decision-making be both qualified and wise. On the contrary, it is the very essence of common sense.

(Published DEC 07 2022)