Every few years, someone proposes a simple solution to political problems: let the people decide everything. If democracy is good, surely more democracy is better. Why have constitutions that limit what voters can do? Why have courts that overturn popular laws? Why not just ask the majority what they want and do it?

The appeal is obvious. But there's a deep philosophical problem lurking here. A democracy with no limits on its power contains the seeds of its own destruction. Perfect democracy—pure, unlimited majority rule—would eventually vote itself out of existence. Understanding why reveals something crucial about what democracy actually requires to survive.

Imagine a democracy where the majority can change any rule at any time. Sounds maximally democratic, right? But consider what happens next. A slim majority could vote to hold elections only when they're confident of winning. They could change voting eligibility to exclude their opponents. They could abolish term limits, extend their own tenure, or simply cancel the next election altogether.

This isn't hypothetical. History is littered with democracies that voted themselves into authoritarianism. Hitler's party used democratic procedures to dismantle democratic institutions. More recently, elected leaders have eroded democratic norms by using parliamentary majorities to pack courts, silence opposition media, and rewrite electoral rules in their favor.

The paradox is sharp: democracy needs non-democratic rules to remain democratic. Some decisions must be placed beyond majority reach—not because the majority can't be trusted, but because democracy itself depends on certain procedures remaining stable. If everything is up for vote, then the voting process itself becomes vulnerable.

Takeaway

Democracy is a game that requires rules the players can't change mid-game. The procedures that make democratic choice possible must themselves be protected from democratic choice.

Beyond procedural protections, there's a deeper question: are there things a majority simply shouldn't be able to decide, even if they want to? Most democratic theorists answer yes. Your religious beliefs, your right to speak and associate, your freedom from arbitrary imprisonment—these aren't gifts from the majority that can be revoked when convenient.

This creates an apparent tension. If the people are sovereign, why can't they collectively decide to restrict speech or establish a state religion? The answer lies in understanding what democracy is for. Democracy isn't valuable simply because it gives majorities what they want. It's valuable because it respects the equal dignity and autonomy of each citizen.

But if that's the foundation—equal respect for persons—then democracy undermines itself when it tramples individual rights. A majority that votes to silence a minority contradicts the very principle that justifies majority rule in the first place. Rights aren't anti-democratic limits imposed from outside. They're constitutive of what makes democracy legitimate.

Takeaway

Rights don't limit democracy from outside—they define its boundaries from within. A majority that violates individual rights isn't exercising democracy; it's abandoning the principle that makes democracy worth having.

This brings us to courts, constitutions, and other institutions that frustrate majority will. Critics call them anti-democratic. But that criticism assumes democracy means nothing more than majority preference. If democracy also requires protecting the conditions for its own continuation—fair elections, protected rights, rule of law—then institutions that enforce these conditions serve democracy rather than opposing it.

Think of constitutional courts striking down popular laws. It looks undemocratic: unelected judges overruling elected legislators. But what if the law eliminates voting rights for a disfavored group? The court isn't blocking democracy; it's preserving it against a temporary majority that would destroy it.

The key insight is that democracy operates across time. Today's majority shouldn't be able to permanently entrench itself against tomorrow's potential majority. Institutions that limit current majorities often do so precisely to keep future democratic choice possible. They're not opponents of popular sovereignty but guardians of its long-term survival.

Takeaway

Non-majoritarian institutions don't oppose democracy—they extend it across time. By preventing today's majority from closing off tomorrow's choices, they serve the democratic principle that legitimate power requires ongoing consent.

The fantasy of perfect democracy—unlimited majority rule—collapses under its own logic. A democracy that can do anything can also undo itself. The limits we place on democratic power aren't regrettable compromises with an ideal. They're essential features that make democracy sustainable.

This doesn't mean every constraint is justified or that current institutions are optimal. But it does mean the question isn't whether to limit democracy—it's how to limit it wisely. The goal is a system where the people rule, but where ruling doesn't include the power to end the people's rule.