Taming and Tolerating Uncertainty

Democracy is existential to its core, and the social question is key to its survival. Since large-scale transformations of society—including migration, climate change, war, artificial intelligence, social media, and unregulated global capitalism—affect both political and social life on Earth one would expect a host of political theorists to examine the link between everyday experiences of uncertainty and democratic backsliding. Still, very few do so.

At present, political theory contains numerous discussions on how democracy “fails,” “ends,” and “dies,” and where to put the blame: Is the sliding back of democracy into autocracy due to ignorant and misinformed people or due to corrupt and kleptocratic elites? It also witnesses debates on how to oppose the autocratic wave, whether through militant, legal, or political means.

This is too myopic a starting point for a debate on democracy. When times are out of joint, and enemies of democracy transform anxieties about the future into fear and hopelessness, it is not enough to defend democracy against autocracy. One must also ask what kind of democracy is worth defending.

It seems to me that the most precious aspect of democracy, and what makes it worth defending, often goes unnoticed in political theory: the way it tames and tolerates uncertainties about the future. Politically as well as socially.

Take elections, for example. Last year almost half of the world’s population went to the polls, and then they will do it again three or four years later. Do we go to the polls to select our leaders or to achieve collective self-government? Do we repeat it to evaluate the performance of leaders and hold them to account for their decisions, or to consolidate the will of the sovereign people and render it alive with each new election?

Both interpretations overlook what is distinctively democratic about elections. The main point is to shape an uncertain future equally. “One person, one vote” submits that even if no one knows what the future holds, each of us has the same amount of freedom and responsibility to decide its purpose and direction. Moreover, through repeated elections, we grant ourselves the freedom to fail in our judgments and decisions, and begin anew. Because the future is uncertain, and society may have changed in a way we could not anticipate just a few years ago, we must give ourselves second chances. As in: back then, I thought it was a good thing to support oil and coal, but due to climate change, I have changed my mind. Or back then, I voted for the republicans, but since the Capitol Attack on January 6th, I have decided not to. And so forth.

The point is that before defending the integrity of elections, we need to understand what they are, democratically speaking. They are not there for people to select leaders or to rally around the flag. They are there to tame and tolerate uncertainty: to give us an equal say over an uncertain future, and the freedom to experiment with new ways of being, thinking, and acting when confronted with unexpected change. Note that autocrats and their facilitators do everything they can to undermine the democratic nature of elections, so understood. They try to steal our future, and if they lose an election, they refuse to step down. Admitting no mistake—it is for “losers”—they seek to rob us of the freedom to begin anew.

Still, democracy is not limited to who governs, and how. It requires something more for democracy to be. Think of elections again. Most of us are probably ready to accept defeat in an election as long as the loss does not endanger our basic subsistence, well-being, or dignity. If too much is at stake, economically or socially, it could make for an embittered loss. In this way, the social question is key to democracy’s survival. So how do they link up?

In political theory, one often distinguishes between the political and the social. If politics is about who governs and how, the social is about who gets what. But this distinction neglects that the political and the social have the same source: an uncertain future. Take social security schemes like health care or work insurance. What do they do, but tame and tolerate uncertainty? Instead of exposing us to an uncertain future, they harness uncertainty, and allow us to begin anew if we become seriously ill or lose our jobs.

The social question is not primarily about poverty. It is about hope. The founding fathers of the Swedish welfare state understood this well:

“What makes life a Gehenna for the great masses of modern industrialized society is not primarily a comparatively low standard of living, or the habit of wear and tear in an often dull and monotonous work environment, which slackens and paralyzes the spiritual resilience of people and leaves no room for free time. All this is certainly an evil of the times, and should be alleviated. Still, the worst of evils is economic insecurity and uncertainty, the threat to tomorrow’s provisions, the catastrophe that constantly hovers over the heads of the manual worker and his family.”

Today, democracies experience new and large-scale transformations of society. They render the future utterly uncertain: Will my house be affected by the floods? Do we have to migrate because of war? Will artificial intelligence take my job? This experience of uncertainty is Janus-faced. It can be exploited for authoritarian purposes, but it can also serve as a catalyst for political and social reform. I suggest we start the debate on democracy here.

Sofia Näsström

Sofia Näsström is professor at the Department of Government, Uppsala University, Sweden. Aside from many journal articles, she is the author of two books: The Spirit of Democracy: Corruption, Disintegration, Renewal (Oxford University Press, 2021), and Demokrati. En liten bok om en stor sak (Historiska Media 2021). Her new book, Democracy and the Social Question: Sharing Uncertainty in Uncertain Times is forthcoming with Cambridge University Press.