Cats in a Bag

Looking back on three decades of Slovenia's experience with democracy, we must admit that much is not as we had hoped or wished. Citizens dislike politics and politicians, they don’t trust institutions, and increasingly, they dislike one another. Liberal democracy—based on respect for human rights and political freedoms, the democratic rule of law, and pluralism—has disappointed many. But we rarely ask ourselves whether democracy is failing because it is inherently flawed or because we misunderstand it and aren’t very good at practicing it.

Of course, no social system is without faults. Winston Churchill once said that democracy is the worst form of government—except for all the others. But before we grab our pitchforks for yet another revolution, left or right, we should ask whether we ourselves are more to blame for the shortcomings of democracy than democracy itself.

When we criticize politics, the blame usually—and rightly—falls on the supply side. I'm not saying all politicians are the same, but Slovenia’s political class certainly includes a critical mass of behavior and misconduct that justifies public dissatisfaction. Yet this doesn’t mean there aren’t problems on the demand side too.

For many Slovenians, the ideal politician is someone who claims to be neither left nor right, but centrist—or even apolitical and above party lines—non-ideological, representing the “silent majority,” transcending past divisions, and, of course, working for the people. This might be a bit caricatured, but it's probably accurate enough.

Before every election, we hope for a savior. If not a “new face,” then at least a face. This public attitude reflects deep disillusionment with politics and its institutions, which is understandable. The problem is that this image embodies the full repertoire of populist clichés. Such an understanding of political ideals doesn’t solve the problems of democracy—it deepens them.

Some reasons for these problems are global, others are homegrown and carefully nurtured here.

The first is the stubborn belief that democracy requires unity. That is partly true. There is unity around very broad societal values—such as prosperity, development, security, and so on. These are what we like to call “national interests,” because it sounds important. But political promises regarding such goals aren’t enough to make an informed voting decision. A party that promised poverty, economic decline, and danger at every turn wouldn’t stand much chance.

Most national interests are subject to various ideological interpretations and political paths, which is perfectly fine. The right to implement such programs belongs to those who win a democratic mandate. But unity should primarily exist around core societal values—less abstract ones—which must not only be mentioned but respected and concretely upheld. These are the values enshrined in the Constitution: human rights, political freedoms, rule of law (including respect for international obligations), a social state, public education, public healthcare, free economic initiative, and more.

These values were, at least during the establishment of Slovenian democracy, part of a social consensus. Maintaining that consensus is the kind of unity Slovenia should strive for. Yet we often fail—often under the presidential doctrine of uncritical equidistance toward all opinions. Instead of defending the Constitution in unison, we undermine it in the name of unity.

As for differing views that remain within constitutional principles, the frantic push for national unity can become problematic. In the name of unity and national interests, critical media, dissatisfied citizens, civil society, and all opinions inconvenient to those in power are labeled as disruptive, unpatriotic, illegitimate, or even illegal. In such a climate, pluralist democracy can no longer function properly—and may even collapse.

Pluralism doesn’t tolerate unity at all costs; it requires a civilized, rational competition of ideas based on shared constitutional values, with effective mechanisms of democratic oversight. It needs political culture—not political conformity.

The second issue in Slovenia’s understanding of democracy is the belief that only “non-political” or “non-ideological” politics is good. As a result, we face an inflation of political initiatives that present themselves as apolitical or supra-political, all claiming to “work for the people.” The problem is that the slogan “we work for the people” is usually not a promise but an alibi. Decisions about what the people want are most often left to the free interpretation and current interests of political opportunists.

The tragic paradox is that the ultimate winner of the battle against ideology is usually an ideology—sometimes left, more often right, always with authoritarian ambitions. Pluralist democracy can function only if citizens can choose among different programs and concrete commitments that take political and ideological stances on fundamental societal issues. You can't have a pluralist democracy if the political space is seen as ideologically neutral, where anyone can do whatever they want as long as they claim to work for the public good.

The third strike in our conceptual misunderstanding of democracy is our attitude toward the past. It’s actually a sub-problem—a uniquely Slovenian offshoot of our obsession with being non-ideological. “Let’s stop dividing into partisans and collaborators! Let’s focus on the future, not the past!”—these are two evergreen slogans of the Slovenian approach to tackling difficult social issues. Noble, but naïve and risky.

Without critical understanding of the past, we cannot solve present problems—much less build the future. The European model of liberal democracy emerged as a response to Europe's bloody experience with authoritarian, nationalist, and violent anti-liberalism. Given how similar today’s societal, political, and economic tensions are to those of the 1930s, learning from history would serve us well.

It’s easy to preach that we should forget the past—but what do we do when today's and tomorrow’s problems start to look dangerously similar to yesterday’s?

Democracy in Slovenia is in trouble. Dissatisfaction and anger with the current political class are often justified. Wanting new people in politics, fresh ideas, different approaches, more young people, and especially more women is wise and necessary. But new faces will bring real change only if they respect and promote the core values of pluralist democracy—not rise above them or behave as if those values don’t apply to them.

At a minimum, we must demand that politicians clearly state what they stand for, what they will do, and with whom they will cooperate if elected to power. Not vague platitudes, but concrete political positions, programs, and commitments on all important societal issues.

We will not achieve better democracy if we keep falling for new bags while buying the same—or very similar—cats.

If we draw a line under 30 years of Slovenian democracy, we can blame politicians for many things. But not a single one appointed themselves to an elected position.

Joseph de Maistre and George Bernard Shaw warned long ago: democracy is a system that gives people the government they deserve.

So, happy holidays—and let’s hope for a wise new year.