The People and Power

Besides sovereignty, “the people” is perhaps the most inspiring—and also one of the most abused—concepts in political history and present-day politics. In Slovenia, it appears in the second paragraph of Article 3 of our Constitution, which declares that power in Slovenia belongs to the people. Abraham Lincoln concluded his historic Gettysburg Address by referencing the people three times. On the other hand, North Korea also calls itself a “people’s” republic. In the name of the people, Nazi Germany’s infamous Volksgerichtshof (People’s Court) sent thousands of political opponents to concentration camps and the gallows. It operated outside constitutional bounds, embodying a Nazi interpretation of sovereignty as articulated by Hitler’s court jurist Carl Schmitt—who claimed sovereignty meant the authority to rise above the constitution and laws in times of emergency.

This doctrine of unchecked national sovereign power—and its bloody consequences—prompted the construction of a different legal and civilizational model after the war. Europe built this model on the principle of pooled sovereignty and the transfer of agreed national competencies to a common community.

The British historian Niall Ferguson, who teaches at Harvard and Stanford, recently corrected me in a conversation, explaining that Mark Twain never actually said that “history repeats itself,” but rather that “it rhymes.” I was disappointed to lose such a handy quote, but Twain did say something else about history that vividly captures the flow and interweaving of past and present: “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. But they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”

“The people” and “power” are two such pieces of colored glass that have appeared in various combinations throughout modern political history. Though we typically associate them with democracy, in the twentieth century, their union often cast darker shades through the historical kaleidoscope.

The problem isn’t that power shouldn’t belong to the people, but rather in operationalizing this noble principle into a functioning societal system. While the Constitution guarantees that citizens exercise their power directly, this is more of a rhetorical flourish. To put it simply, even in a small country like Slovenia, it's impossible to imagine two million people directly wielding legislative, executive, and judicial power. Power is exercised through institutions—and the forms and functioning of those institutions offer various social models, all claiming to represent the people, yet governing in vastly different ways.

On one side is pluralist liberal democracy, where citizens exercise their authority through elections—as guaranteed by Article 3 of the Constitution—and occasionally through referendums. On the other side are illiberal and authoritarian regimes, which interpret the relationship between people and power quite differently. In its most extreme form, this was articulated by Reich Minister for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda Joseph Goebbels in his September 1933 speech at Geneva’s Hotel Carlton. “Democracies merely talk and never resolve problems,” he said, “unlike Germany, where the people and the government are one, and the will of the people is the same as the will of the government and vice versa. The modern structure of the German state represents a higher form of democracy, where power is exercised authoritatively based on the people’s mandate, without any possibility of parliamentary interference that would neutralize or paralyze the execution of the people’s will.”

Rejection of parliamentary pluralist democracy was widespread in 1930s Germany—and not just there. It was fueled by (often justified) disappointment in the weakness, irresponsibility, selfishness, incompetence, and corruption of then-mainstream political parties. Riding a wave of similar frustrations, Benito Mussolini rose to power through his March on Rome. In the aftermath of World War I, amid a global pandemic and economic crisis, many people lost faith in liberal democracy and sought salvation in authoritarian alternatives—politics that, in the name of the people, were willing to place themselves above constitutions, laws, and basic norms of human decency.

Sound familiar?

We’ve spun the historical kaleidoscope several times since then, but we should not ignore the fact that today’s arrangement of colored pieces increasingly resembles patterns Europe has seen before.

It’s not hard these days to find reasons for frustration and disappointment with liberal democracy. Many criticisms directed at democratic institutions a century ago—albeit in different forms—still resonate today. Political systems struggle to solve global and societal challenges—from economic crises and social issues to demographic shifts and environmental threats. The consequences of political failure are passed on to people, who understandably grow angry and disillusioned. Now, on top of all that, a global pandemic drags on with no clear end.

Some of us, myself included, initially hoped that a crisis of this magnitude might awaken the best in individuals and communities: rationality and solidarity. That hope has largely gone unfulfilled. In this era, it's not only our health that's endangered, but also our democracy and freedoms. As Henry Kissinger recently said: “National cohesion and resilience depend on trust that institutions can foresee catastrophe, arrest its impact, and restore stability. When the COVID-19 pandemic is over, many will assess their institutions as having failed. Whether that assessment is objectively accurate is irrelevant.”

In such circumstances, it is unsurprising that many—disillusioned with representative and pluralist democracy—are once again looking for alternatives. The perception that power is distant, unresponsive, and incompetent often rests on well-founded grievances. Citizens are losing trust in democratic political institutions—and democracy cannot function without that trust. Finding effective responses to these challenges is not just legitimate; it’s essential.

It is understandable that many seek to “return power to the people.” There’s nothing wrong with that—in fact, it's commendable. The real question is how we do it.

The danger is that “returning power” is once again hijacked by politicians who claim the exclusive right to define who the people are and what they want. Some advocate for the supremacy of direct democracy, replacing representative democracy with referendums. In Slovenia, the recent popular vote that overturned the water law has strengthened this argument. Although referendums are certainly a vital form of democratic expression, their use still requires safeguards—without which they can become instruments of majority tyranny that suppress minority rights, or tools for the pseudo-legitimization of authoritarian rule. Just think of some of the topics and ways referendums have been used—not only here, but in neighboring countries.

One clear response is broader citizen participation in politics. Freedom of expression—including through protest—is essential for a functioning democracy. But we must ask whether such expressions are seen as a check and correction on representative democracy—or as its replacement. The most likes on social media do not equal a democratic mandate. Not every protest or mass mobilization is automatically progressive. A 2020 study led by Timothy Garton Ash found that in Europe, over half of young people concerned about the environmental crisis trust authoritarian leaders more than democratic ones to solve it.

Of course, I am not claiming that the current democratic model is perfect or beyond improvement. But while we search for alternatives, we must first strengthen and reform the system we already have. The problems causing anger and distrust in democracy stem not from flawed democratic principles, but from inconsistent implementation.

Democracy demands legitimacy, competence, integrity, transparency, and accountability in governance. We clearly cannot rely on the goodwill of politicians alone—effective oversight mechanisms are necessary to keep power in check. Civil society—so often targeted by populists—is crucial here, along with the judiciary and independent media.

In Slovenia, the work of organizations like the Legal Network for the Protection of Democracy and the Voice of the People initiative is a powerful example of such civil society action. They apply democratic pressure on political authorities, demand accountability, and draw strength from democratic constitutional values—thereby reinforcing them.

This is one of the things that gives me hope that we can preserve and strengthen democracy—and that the historical kaleidoscope won’t spin us back to authoritarian verses, even if we once believed we’d left those behind for good.

And even if Mark Twain never actually said that history rhymes—it doesn’t mean it can’t.