Democracy is not a guarantee of popular wisdom; it is a mirror of collective awareness. When practiced without adequate civic preparation or institutional foundations, its outcomes can be harsh.
In a new Syria, holding elections or establishing symbolic institutions is not enough. What is required is a long-term cultural and political project-one that includes civic education, independent institutions, genuine participation, and shared responsibility.
Success depends on societal awareness, sound institutions, and an elite that understands that rebuilding a nation is not a slogan, but a sustained act.
In the post-war moment following the Syrian revolution-where the idea of a “new Syria” appears as a renewed horizon for the future-a pressing question emerges: What kind of democracy do we want? And what kind of people will be entrusted with building it?
The well-known quote by American journalist and critic H. L. Mencken-“Democracy is the theory that the people know what they want and deserve to get it”-is not an empty slogan. It is a serious warning that forces us to reconsider the relationship between collective will and real-world outcomes.
What kind of democracy do we want?
And what kind of people will be entrusted with this project?
Under this understanding, democracy is not a guarantee that people will always choose wisely. It reflects their inner tendencies, fears, desires, and anxieties.
The assumption that people are always “right” when they govern themselves is not a self-evident truth-it carries a bitter possibility: that a society may choose what harms it if it lacks the tools for sound judgment.
This is not philosophical pessimism, but a reading of contemporary experiences where countries paid a heavy price for transitions lacking institutional structures, justice, or civic awareness.
When we place this idea in the context of a new Syria, we encounter a double dilemma.
First, Syrian society after years of war is neither unified nor fully healed. It is a fabric woven from wounds, fear, historical disappointments, identity fractures, and political and security pressures. Any choices made today would not emerge from a clean table, but from the debris of war, scars of violence, and layers of fear and grievance.
As one civil society activist remarked during a discussion on Al Jazeera in Damascus: “We cannot talk about elections amid deep psychological and social division.”
Second, reconstruction is not limited to rebuilding infrastructure; it requires rebuilding the state in its ethical and political sense: justice institutions, rule of law, mutual trust, and genuine participation.
Granting full power to the people before adequate cultural and civic preparation would mean handing over the keys to our collective fate before the social and political body is ready to bear the consequences.
A recent local study confirmed that civil society was the sole source of social cohesion over the past seven years and will play a fundamental role in rebuilding the state. This makes clear that civil society is not an accessory to democracy-it is central to strengthening participation and accountability.
Civil society was the only source of cohesion over the past seven years
and will play a pivotal role in rebuilding the state.
A few months ago, I spoke with a woman in a town emerging from conflict-a mother in her early fifties. When asked about elections, she replied with painful simplicity:
“I would vote for whoever brings my son back-even if he doesn’t return.”
This sentence encapsulates our deepest risk: a vote driven by personal grief rather than belief in a program or vision. A desire for immediate emotional compensation, when not anchored in public values, can produce short-sighted policies or even vengeful trajectories that undermine collective reconstruction.
Mencken linked democracy to accountability for consequences. Choice is a right-but also a responsibility, and its cost can be severe if misused.
In a new Syria, this principle must be at the heart of any democratic project. It is not enough to demand elections or rotate symbols of power, nor to raise slogans of representation and participation. Decisions made today-by voters, civil institutions, or political elites-will shape the country for decades.
This highlights the urgent need for collective awareness supported by genuine political and civic education-education that makes clear that today’s choices define a long reconstruction path.
What are the state’s priorities? How do we draft a just constitution? What is the role of the judiciary, the media, and civil society? How do we guarantee institutional independence?
Without such awareness, voting becomes a procedural act-often reflecting emotional reactions rather than informed judgment.
Comparative experiences offer important lessons.
Rwanda, after the genocide, did not rush to the ballot box. Instead, it pursued a complex transitional justice process, including community-based Gacaca courts designed to uncover truth and enable local accountability. While controversial, this approach aimed to defuse collective hatred and build local justice mechanisms.
South Africa, after apartheid, chose to confront the past through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission-an act not merely technical, but political and social, creating a shared narrative upon which society could rebuild.
No democracy without independent media,
and no stable transition without an active civil society.
Bosnia, by contrast, moved quickly to elections after the Dayton Accords. Yet the absence of genuine reconciliation and a systematic transitional justice process entrenched long-term political fragmentation-despite international agreements meant to stabilize peace.
These experiences are not academic luxuries. They offer practical proof that when democracy is introduced before wounds are addressed, it often reflects fragility rather than healing it.
Political transition studies consistently show that sustainable democracy is strongly linked to institutional strength before or during transition.
To be fair to Mencken, his argument is not pure pessimism but realism. Democracy is a mirror. Mirrors do not lie-but they reveal flaws that require treatment.
His reading is not a rejection of democracy, but a call for preparation. People may know what they want, but without institutions and awareness, the consequences can be harsh. Global and local experiences support this view: societies have chosen-and paid the price. In politics, no value comes without cost.
If a new Syria is to be a genuine project, certain elements must be non-negotiable. Chief among them is a cultural-political project that goes beyond slogans and statements.
This means civic education starting in schools and universities, but extending into homes, mosques, and families-through dialogue programs rooted in citizenship rights.
It means institutional independence: a judiciary that is neither threatened nor co-opted, and media platforms that do not monopolize public discourse for the benefit of a single faction.
It means building trust through local truth-telling, genuine reparations, and truth commissions that document events and teach society how to live with its memory-rather than burying or exploiting it politically.
Transitional justice here is not a slogan, but a comprehensive path: truth, accountability where necessary, compensation, and guarantees of non-repetition-transparent measures linked to building independent legal institutions.
To conclude on civil society and media: there is no democracy without independent media, and no stable transition without an active civil society.
Media is not merely a news carrier-it is a space for shaping dialogue. Civil society is not limited to humanitarian organizations; it is a network of small schools of politics, teaching people how to express interests peacefully, practice accountability, and negotiate resources.
Studies and experience show that strong civil societies reduce the likelihood of democratic collapse. They must be protected and empowered-without being subjected to shifting political conditions.
Some will argue that we lack time, that people want quick solutions. Yes-people want rights restored and livelihoods rebuilt. But who believes a ballot box can restore a home, dignity, or memory?
Quick fixes may offer momentary relief but breed deeper problems. Building the conditions for democratic transition is a complex process: judicial reform, media independence, civic education, local reconciliation mechanisms, transparent governance, and economic programs to ease living pressures.
Together, these form the fabric that enables Syrians to make informed choices that build rather than destroy.
A reader may ask: Is there evidence for this? The answer is yes.
Political transition studies show that states holding elections before building core institutions often end up with fragile governance or renewed conflict. There are exceptions, but the rule holds: rushed transitions without strong institutions amplify risks.
The examples of Rwanda, South Africa, and Bosnia are neither absolute successes nor failures-but practical lessons: transitional justice prepares society; truth commissions rebuild shared narratives; peace agreements without reconciliation leave wounds open and divisions alive.
Peace agreements without reconciliation leaves open wounds that continue to fuel division.
In conclusion, this is not a call to postpone democracy indefinitely-it is a call to broaden its meaning.
Democracy is not merely a political procedure completed on election day; it is a long cultural process. A new Syria needs more than elections and new symbols-it needs a sustained national cultural-political project: civic education, independent institutions, transitional justice mechanisms, free media, and a healthy civil society.
Without these, ballot boxes will reflect our wounds rather than heal them.
Ultimately, Mencken’s quote is neither mockery nor description alone—it is both warning and guidance. Democracy is a mirror, and mirrors do not lie.
If we wish to see the face of the country we love reflected there, we must prepare ourselves before demanding it, and build our institutions before placing overwhelming hopes in ballot boxes.
Otherwise, democracy may give us exactly what we want—and harshly so.
