To safeguard our democracy, the 19th-century French nobleman Alexis de Tocqueville suggested starting a book club, joining a church, or, perhaps even more crucially, volunteering at a local school or running for the school board. Some activities might seem less significant, but the essence is to unite with fellow citizens for a shared purpose.
This could seem trivial in light of today’s threats to democracy, but it’s based on Tocqueville’s observations of early America. Having witnessed his family members face the guillotine during the French Revolution, he recognized the inherent risks of democracy and its promises. In 1831, Tocqueville visited America to study its democratic experiments and derive lessons for France’s tumultuous political landscape.
What he encountered was unexpected.
“Americans of all ages, conditions, and dispositions are always forming connections,” he observed. They congregated at churches, city halls, libraries, charities, and universities. He noted how Americans worked through conflicts and pursued common objectives across party lines, investing in one another to practice democracy. These local, in-person efforts, possible only in a new democratic setup, trained citizens to act collectively against concentrated power and populist movements.
Yet, this civic engagement didn’t emerge by chance. Tocqueville posited that education was crucial to its foundation. “We cannot doubt that,” he wrote. Early American universities aimed not just to prepare workers but also engaged citizens, imparting practical skills alongside the art of autonomy.
Education cultivates citizens, and citizens collaborate to sustain democracy.
Currently, however, we seem to be going off course. As education turns into a partisan battleground with university funding disputes, constraints on academic research, and the push for ideological conformity on campuses, we weaken fundamental democratic structures. This is especially vital for nurturing future generations capable of democratic practice. History shows that liberal education often becomes an early casualty when authoritarian tendencies arise.
This liberal education is critical, providing an open exchange of ideas essential for nurturing democracy. Both Democrats and Republicans often misjudge education’s value merely by the salary of graduates, rather than recognizing its role in maintaining a healthy Republic. This overlooks education’s true intention within democracy.
Education must stand firm as both a pathway to prosperity and a foundation for democracy.
As president of St. John’s College, I advocate for the core essence of liberal education: an education that is free. This is the education America urgently needs. Our “Great Book” curriculum invites students to gather around a seminar table to engage with texts representing varied political, religious, and moral perspectives—from Aristotle to Baldwin, Smith, and Nietzsche.
These texts are classics reflecting fundamental societal values. They prompt students to confront ideas they might typically dismiss, challenging their ideological bubbles. It’s crucial for them to articulate their viewpoints, listen attentively to differing opinions, and collaborate for a deeper understanding. Each seminar truly becomes a microcosm of a republic, with ideas clashing but participants working in unison. This model can flourish in settings from community colleges to public high schools and even local book clubs.
When students grapple with Aristotle’s politics or Locke’s essays, they’re engaging with fundamental notions of autonomy. Reading Shakespeare or Dostoevsky fosters empathy and moral imagination, which can promote bipartisan cooperation and counteract dehumanizing views. Engaging with Euclid or Einstein sharpens logical reasoning and evidence assessment.
These texts help cultivate the essential capabilities Tocqueville associated with a healthy democracy.
Most importantly, liberal education supports what Tocqueville described as “self-interest rightly understood”—the idea that personal well-being is tied to the community’s welfare. This perspective counters narrow self-interest that undermines civic friendships. Through exploring diverse texts from various cultures, students learn their interests are intertwined with a broader human community.
A decline in civic engagement, something Tocqueville would find familiar in today’s America, is concerning. In 2000, Robert Putnam’s “Bowling Alone” detailed the retreat of citizens, resulting in weakened democratic institutions. Yuval Levin’s “A Time to Build” further examined this in 2020, urging for a modern response.
Church membership has decreased from 70% in 2000 to 47% in 2020. By 2018, less than half of households reported making charitable donations. Union membership had fallen to a record low of 9.9% in 2024, and confidence in our higher education institutions is severely shaken.
This erosion of civic involvement is not just unfortunate; it’s perilous. We risk becoming isolated, vulnerable to manipulation, and incapable of discerning fact from fiction.
The dilemma we face is clear: our democracy is quickly deteriorating while our civic culture is slowly being rebuilt. Tocqueville warned that there is no shortcut: “In a democratic country, the art of association is the mother of all arts. All remaining progress hinges on the progress it has made.” Preserving democracy necessitates both addressing breakdowns and dedicated efforts to enhance civic infrastructure over the long term.
So, don’t allow the disarray of national politics to immobilize or overwhelm you. Tocqueville reminds us that democracy isn’t solely safeguarded by courts and capitals; it thrives in living rooms, classrooms, and local halls. Attend a city council meeting. Volunteer at the library. Support liberal education. By doing these things, we quietly weave together the fabric of our democracy, one action at a time, even in an age of chaos.
