Democracy got the third degree at Morehouse College on Sunday. President Biden delivered the commencement address at the nation’s only all-male historically Black college. His remarks were appropriately laudatory, paying homage to the lore of the “Morehouse man” and the contributions of alumni such as the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. He told the graduates that he’s sure, one day, someone will go from this campus to the Oval Office — playfully adding, “just after an AKA from Howard.” Everyone knew who he was talking about: Vice President Harris.
But the thrust of Biden’s speech was serious, weighted with the political issues that will decide the presidency this fall. Speaking through the graduates to Black voters generally, he appealed to the people who rescued his primary campaign four years ago. The day’s message was that democracy — the only thing that can create a fair and just nation — is again under siege. He positioned himself as its champion, vowing, “that’s my commitment to you: to show you democracy, democracy, democracy is still the way.” It was a promise of representation. And a gentle plea to keep hope alive.
It seemed a fitting sermon for a nation whose faith in government is in short supply. Congress is historically unpopular; this year, more than 80 percent of us disapprove of the job it’s doing. For the first time in decades of polling, Americans hold more negative than positive views of the Supreme Court. And polls routinely tell of a general dissatisfaction with the choices for president. Unsurprising, then, that satisfaction with democracy is also at a record low.
And yet, a higher percentage of eligible voters participated in the 2020 presidential election than any since 1900, a time before women could vote and when more than 90 percent of Black Americans lived in the disenfranchising South. That’s a sign of democratic health. What’s in bad shape is the republic, the very thing Benjamin Franklin declared in 1787 had been created.
The difference is more than semantic. At heart, democracy prioritizes the “dêmos,” or the people, while the republic depends on representatives who act as the people’s advocates. The combination of the two — a democratic republic — best describes a system in which government requires our consent, and then works on our behalf. Our history has seen the slow growth and expansion of democracy as excluded people forced the government to seek their consent, as well. Now, after nearly 250 years, we’re most of the way there. Biden went to Morehouse to point out Black people’s decisive role in making democracy more accessible for everyone — and to warn that these gains are at risk.
The graduates, faculty and their families were a polite audience, even in the few instances of muted protest. The president’s charge to defend democracy was well received. But the college is in Atlanta. Cradle of the civil rights movement. Home to Sen. Raphael G. Warnock, an Alpha from Morehouse. It’s a plurality-Black city that knows the fight for voting rights as well as anywhere. Nevertheless, in 2020, people still waited in line for up to 10 hours to cast a ballot. On campus that morning and in places beyond, the more glaring problem is with the republic resulting from our democratic processes. Our national representatives do not, as a group, inspire confidence in government.
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Political scientists have shown that public policy is most responsive to elite and business interests and least to the average citizen. When nonvoters are asked why they opt out of elections, more than 70 percent cite either the electoral college’s trumping of the popular vote, a belief that the system is rigged and corrupt, or the undue influence of big money. More than one-third of voters don’t think election outcomes represent the people’s will. Gerrymandering and the electoral college have turned a people’s decisive vote into elections with razor-thin margins. Party primaries and campaign financing discourage principled pragmatists from government office, instead incentivizing sensational behavior by politicians.
This kind of republic gives democracy a bad name. Alexander Hamilton said at the Constitutional Convention in 1787: “The voice of the people has been said to be the voice of God. … It is not true in fact.” Better to empower the rich and well-born to check the mass of people who “seldom judge or determine right.” James Madison offered an assurance that the people’s representatives would be men of character, “whose patriotism and love of justice” will make them resistant to selfish pursuits and blind partisanship. Americans today — including the men of Morehouse, no doubt — have reason to think that Madison misjudged it.
Biden was defending democracy to a nation disenchanted with its republic. He’s staking his seat in the Oval Office on the argument that he’s a better representative for the people than the competition would be. And he’s hoping the Democratic Party’s most steadfast supporters will stay the course and give him another chance. Former president Donald Trump asks the same of his loyal constituents. The people, unhappy with the state of the nation, are left wondering how to use their voices to create the republic they want, one worth the keeping.
