Democracy and Its Critics (1)

President Prabowo, speaking at a symbolic event to destroy over 214 tonnes of narcotics, emphasised the importance of criticism in a democratic society. He asserted that a leader who is unwilling to be corrected or criticised will inevitably become ensnared in errors. He acknowledged that he himself has often been labelled authoritarian, but he countered that perception by affirming his openness to public scrutiny and correction. According to him, criticism and correction are not threats to authority but essential safeguards against the blindness of unchecked power. In his words, “A leader who refuses to be corrected—who resists criticism—will inevitably become ensnared in repeated mistakes.”

Throughout history, the refusal to accept criticism has often led leaders into catastrophic errors. From monarchs who silenced dissenting voices to modern autocrats who surround themselves with sycophants, the pattern is clear: unchecked power breeds blind spots. Criticism, when grounded in truth and delivered constructively, acts as a mirror—reflecting flaws that might otherwise remain hidden. In democratic societies, it is not merely a right but a necessity. A leader who welcomes critique fosters transparency, accountability, and adaptive governance. Conversely, one who shuns it risks building an echo chamber, where poor decisions are amplified and repeated. Prabowo’s statement, then, is not just a caution—it’s a call to embrace the uncomfortable but vital role of public scrutiny.

It’s true—criticism rarely feels pleasant. As President Prabowo candidly admitted, it can make one feel rather irritable, even downright annoyed. But that discomfort is precisely what makes it valuable. Criticism pierces the bubble of self-assurance and forces a leader to confront blind spots they might otherwise ignore. It’s not a personal attack; it’s a civic mirror. The sting of critique is often the first sign that someone cares enough to speak truth to power. And in leadership, that sting is far better than the silence of sycophants. A leader who learns to sit with discomfort, to listen through the irritation, grows—not just in authority, but in wisdom. So yes, criticism may bruise the ego, but it polishes the conscience.

In a democracy, criticism functions as the heartbeat of accountability and the guardian of public conscience. It ensures that power does not mutate into tyranny by demanding transparency, honesty, and ethical conduct from those who govern. Through open criticism, citizens remind leaders that authority is a trust, not an entitlement. Constructive criticism nurtures political maturity, for it allows policies to evolve, mistakes to be corrected, and institutions to reform without fear or favour. When people criticise freely, democracy breathes; when they are silenced, democracy suffocates. In essence, criticism is not an act of rebellion—it is an act of care, the way citizens express their devotion to the ideals of justice, freedom, and collective dignity.

In a democracy, good criticism is born not from anger, but from a sincere desire to improve what is broken. It speaks truth to power without malice, and challenges authority without destroying it. A good critic builds bridges, not walls—offering solutions instead of insults, clarity instead of chaos. The essence of good criticism lies in its fairness: it observes before it judges, listens before it speaks, and argues with evidence rather than ego. It respects the diversity of thought that democracy protects, knowing that disagreement does not equal disloyalty. In this way, good criticism becomes an instrument of progress—a compass that guides a nation towards wisdom, accountability, and justice.

One particularly well-regarded reference is Democracy and Its Critics (1989, Yale University Press) by Robert A. Dahl, which examines the fundamental assumptions of democratic theory, tests them against the objections raised by critics, and then reshapes the theory of democracy into a coherent whole. It doesn’t address “criticism” in the narrow sense of public protest alone, but rather situates how democracy can absorb, respond to, and be refined through internal critique.

According to Dahl, democracy becomes truly accountable through the continuous exercise of criticism. Dahl argues that the essence of democratic life lies not merely in elections or representation, but in the capacity of citizens to question, challenge, and evaluate the actions of those in power. Criticism, in his view, acts as a safeguard against the concentration of authority and the decay of public responsibility. When citizens voice dissent or offer reasoned critique, they compel leaders to justify their decisions publicly, thereby transforming governance into a process of mutual accountability rather than blind obedience. Dahl also emphasises that a healthy democracy must not only tolerate criticism but actively nurture the conditions that make it possible—freedom of speech, access to information, and institutional openness. Without such criticism, democracy risks turning into an empty ritual, where participation exists in form but not in substance.

Dahl presents a coherent and integrated theory of democracy often referred to as “polyarchy”. He argues that a fully realised democracy, in its ideal form, is rarely attainable, so polyarchy serves as a practical, empirically grounded approximation of democratic rule. Dahl’s theory synthesises several key principles into a unified framework: effective participation, voting equality, enlightened understanding, control of the agenda, and inclusiveness. Together, these elements form a coherent model in which citizens have meaningful influence over political decisions, leaders are accountable, and institutional arrangements facilitate ongoing public critique and deliberation. Dahl’s approach bridges normative ideals with empirical realities, creating a theory that is both philosophically informed and practically applicable to modern democratic societies.

According to Dahl, democracy is not a static system but a dynamic process that evolves through internal criticism. He explains that a healthy democracy must be capable of absorbing dissenting voices, responding to public grievances, and refining its institutions and policies accordingly. Internal criticism functions as a mechanism for self-correction: when citizens and interest groups challenge governmental decisions, expose flaws, or highlight injustices, political actors are compelled to reconsider their actions and adjust policies to better reflect the will and welfare of the people. Dahl emphasises that this capacity for self-improvement depends on certain structural and cultural conditions, such as freedom of expression, open access to information, and inclusive participation. By embracing internal critique rather than suppressing it, democracy can continuously learn, adapt, and strengthen itself, preventing stagnation or authoritarian drift.

Robert A. Dahl’s On Political Equality (2006, Yale University Press) revolves around the principle that genuine democracy depends on the equal political influence of all citizens. Dahl examines what it means for individuals to participate equally in collective decision-making, and why this equality is both a moral imperative and a practical necessity for the legitimacy of democratic institutions. He analyses the conditions under which political equality can be achieved, addressing structural, social, and economic factors that often skew influence, such as wealth, education, and access to information. Dahl also explores mechanisms—like universal suffrage, representative institutions, and participatory practices—that can promote equality in political voice. Ultimately, the book argues that without political equality, democracy risks becoming superficial, as decision-making would reflect the preferences of a privileged minority rather than the collective will of the people.

According to Dahl in On Political Equality, equal participation in collective decision-making means that every citizen should have a comparable ability to influence the outcomes of political choices that affect the community. This does not imply identical influence for each individual in every moment, but rather that the political system should minimise structural, social, and economic barriers that systematically privilege some voices over others. Equal participation involves access to information, the freedom to express opinions, the ability to engage in debate, and the institutional means to translate one’s views into policy impact.

Dahl argues that political equality is both a moral and practical necessity. Morally, it reflects the principle of fairness: no person’s interests or voice should be inherently valued above another’s simply due to wealth, social status, or background. Practically, equality is essential for the legitimacy and stability of democratic institutions. When citizens perceive that their voices matter and can meaningfully influence outcomes, they are more likely to support and comply with democratic decisions. Conversely, systematic inequality in participation erodes trust, fuels resentment, and risks concentrating power in the hands of a privileged few, thereby undermining the very foundations of democracy.

In Civic Literacy: How Informed Citizens Make Democracy Work (2002, University Press of New England), Henry Milner argues that the very foundation of a functioning democracy lies in the citizens’ ability to understand and evaluate political information critically. He contends that when citizens are well-informed, they are not merely passive observers of government actions but active participants who can hold their leaders accountable through reasoned critique and meaningful participation. According to Milner, civic literacy equips individuals with the knowledge to discern between rhetoric and policy, to question decisions made in their name, and to engage in public discussions that shape democratic outcomes. He emphasises that informed citizens are less likely to be swayed by populist appeals or misinformation, as they can interpret political messages within a broader context of facts and institutional understanding. Ultimately, Milner suggests that societies with higher civic literacy experience greater trust in democratic institutions, higher voter turnout, and a more vibrant public sphere, where critique is not a threat to authority but a necessary expression of democratic vitality.

Milner defines the civic knowledge and capacity of the citizenry as the combination of factual understanding, analytical skills, and participatory abilities that enable citizens to effectively engage with democratic life. He explains that civic knowledge involves knowing how political institutions function, understanding the roles of elected officials, being aware of public policies, and recognising the mechanisms through which citizens can influence government decisions. This knowledge provides the foundation upon which citizens can make informed political judgments rather than relying on superficial impressions or media soundbites.

Milner also expands the concept to include civic capacity, which refers to citizens’ ability and confidence to act upon their knowledge — through voting, community involvement, or public debate. He argues that without this capacity, even well-informed individuals may remain politically inactive. Thus, civic literacy is not merely about storing information but about applying it to participate meaningfully in public affairs. According to Milner, societies that nurture both civic knowledge and civic capacity foster a culture of accountability, where governments are continually scrutinised and citizens view themselves as co-owners of the democratic process rather than distant spectators.

Milner warns that when citizens are uninformed or lack the confidence and skills to participate meaningfully, democracy suffers in multiple ways. Firstly, uninformed citizens are more susceptible to manipulation, populist rhetoric, and misinformation, which can allow political elites to act without accountability. Secondly, low civic capacity leads to political apathy: citizens may vote without understanding issues, abstain from participation, or fail to engage in local and national debates, reducing the vibrancy of the public sphere. Milner emphasises that such conditions can erode democratic legitimacy, as governments may continue unchecked policies while the citizenry remains disengaged or misled. In essence, a deficit in civic literacy undermines the very mechanisms that make democracy responsive and accountable, turning formal democratic structures into hollow institutions where participation exists in name only.

The importance of citizens’ critique for government lies at the heart of a functioning democracy. Criticism serves as a vital feedback mechanism that allows governments to identify flaws, inefficiencies, and injustices within their policies and institutions. When citizens actively scrutinise the actions of their leaders, they help ensure accountability, transparency, and responsiveness. Without such critique, governments may act with impunity, pursuing interests that serve a few rather than the public good.

Moreover, critique is not merely a defensive tool against corruption or mismanagement; it is also a constructive force. Thoughtful, informed criticism can guide policy improvements, inspire innovative solutions, and strengthen public trust by demonstrating that leaders are responsive to the people they serve. In a broader sense, citizen critique reinforces the moral and practical legitimacy of governance: it reminds those in power that their authority exists not for self-interest but for the collective welfare. Therefore, a society that values and encourages critique tends to have more resilient democratic institutions and a more engaged citizenry, where governance becomes a dialogue rather than a monologue.

In The Good Citizen: A History of American Civic Life (1998, Free Press), Michael Schudson argues that the health of a democracy depends not merely on formal institutions or electoral procedures, but on the active engagement of its citizenry. He emphasises that scrutiny and public discussion are crucial mechanisms through which citizens can assess government actions, expose abuses of power, and participate in shaping policy. Schudson contends that when citizens actively debate political issues and critically evaluate decisions made by their leaders, they help prevent the concentration of power and the rise of authoritarian tendencies. He highlights that such civic involvement fosters a culture of accountability and shared responsibility, in which government actions are constantly observed and questioned, rather than taken for granted. According to Schudson, a democracy thrives when its citizens are attentive, critical, and willing to voice dissent, making civic dialogue an indispensable safeguard against extremism and governmental overreach.

In Democracy and Its Discontents: Critical Literacy across Global Contexts (2005, SensePublishers), Robert E. White and Karyn Cooper explore the multifaceted challenges facing contemporary democracy. They argue that democracy often falls short of its ideals, leading to a sense of dissatisfaction or "discontent" among citizens. This discontent arises from several factors:

Firstly, the authors highlight the disconnect between democratic ideals and political realities. While democratic systems profess values like equality and participation, in practice, power imbalances and elitism can undermine these principles, leaving citizens feeling marginalised and disillusioned.

Secondly, economic inequalities exacerbate democratic discontent. When wealth and resources are concentrated in the hands of a few, it leads to unequal access to opportunities and political influence, eroding the foundational democratic principle of equal representation.

Additionally, the erosion of democratic institutions contributes to this discontent. When institutions meant to uphold democratic processes become weakened or corrupted, citizens lose trust in their effectiveness and fairness, leading to disengagement and scepticism towards democratic governance.

Lastly, globalisation and technological advancements have introduced complexities that challenge traditional democratic frameworks. Issues such as misinformation, surveillance, and the rapid pace of change can overwhelm democratic institutions, making it difficult for them to adapt and respond effectively to citizens' needs.

White and Cooper suggest that addressing these challenges requires a commitment to critical literacy—the ability to analyse and question the structures and systems that shape our societies. By fostering critical literacy, individuals can become more informed and active participants in democracy, advocating for reforms that align democratic practices with their ideals.

Richard Haass, in his book The Bill of Obligations: The Ten Habits of Good Citizens (2023, Penguin Publishing Group), argues that democracy cannot survive on rights alone; it must be sustained by a shared sense of responsibility among its citizens. Haass argues that the United States—and by extension, all modern democracies—has become dangerously unbalanced, placing overwhelming emphasis on individual freedoms while neglecting the civic obligations that make those freedoms meaningful. He warns that this obsession with rights, coupled with political polarisation, misinformation, and the erosion of public trust, has created a society that is free but fragile.

Haass contends that a healthy democratic society requires more than simply the assertion of individual rights; it demands that citizens adopt certain habits of allegiance to the common good. To that end, he urges us to be informed, meaning that citizens must actively acquire an understanding of their government, its rules, and how their society functions. Haass insists that democracy only works when citizens know what they are talking about. Being informed is not about memorising headlines or following influencers, but about understanding the structures of power, the consequences of policies, and the sources of one’s information. A democracy filled with uninformed citizens, he warns, is one step away from manipulation.

Haass then calls on us to get involved, to step beyond passivity and engage in civic life rather than stand on the sidelines. 

The next habit is to stay open to compromise, recognising that in a diverse polity no one group holds a monopoly on truth and that progress often comes through give-and-take. Haass notes that no democracy can function if every side insists on total victory. Compromise is not weakness but wisdom—it keeps societies moving even amid deep disagreement.

Closely related is the need to remain civil, upholding respectful discourse and treating fellow citizens with dignity even when opinions sharply diverge. Civility, according to Haass, is the lubricant of public life. Without it, dialogue becomes impossible and politics turns poisonous. Civility means criticising ideas, not people. 

Haass emphasises that we must reject violence, refusing to rely on force or intimidation to achieve political ends and instead favouring lawful and peaceful means. He is unequivocal that violence has no place in democracy. Change must come through persuasion, law, and peaceful protest—not intimidation or destruction.

Haass also asks us to value norms, those unwritten conventions, traditions and shared expectations that give stability to our civic system. Equally, he argues that we should promote the common good, placing our collective interests above narrow self-interest when they conflict. Beyond laws, democracies depend on shared norms—unwritten rules that uphold trust. When citizens stop respecting these norms, the system may still look alive on paper but die in practice. He calls on citizens to look beyond personal gain and consider what sustains the whole community. Democracy thrives when people ask, “What helps us all?” rather than, “What’s in it for me?” 

The eighth habit is to respect government service, recognising and honouring those who serve in public office or in civic institutions rather than dismissing or denigrating them. When Richard Haass speaks of “respecting government service,” he is not calling for blind admiration of politicians or unconditional loyalty to those in power. Rather, he is urging citizens to respect the institution of public service itself—the idea that serving one’s country through government work is an honourable and necessary pursuit. Haass laments that in many democracies, including the United States, public service has come to be viewed with cynicism or contempt. This cultural shift, he argues, discourages talented and ethical individuals from entering government, leaving the system vulnerable to corruption, incompetence, and populist manipulation.

To “respect government service,” therefore, means distinguishing between the principle and the person. One can and should hold officials accountable for misconduct, hypocrisy, or greed, yet still maintain respect for the notion of governance as a vital public good. Haass believes that a functioning democracy requires a reciprocal relationship: citizens must trust and value honest public servants, while those servants must prove worthy of that trust through integrity and transparency. When either side fails—when citizens treat all officials as inherently corrupt, or when officials betray the public’s faith—the democratic compact begins to crumble. Applied to contexts such as Indonesia, Haass’s idea invites a deeper reflection: the problem is not the concept of public service itself, but the failure of some who occupy it. Respecting government service should not mean tolerating corruption or arrogance; it should mean defending the dignity of public duty while demanding higher moral standards from those who represent it. In that sense, respect is earned not through title or privilege, but through honesty, humility, and genuine service to the people.

He further suggests that we must support the teaching of civics, ensuring that citizens and future generations understand the workings of democracy rather than entering it uninformed. He warns that a generation that doesn’t understand democracy will be easily seduced by demagogues. Teaching civics is like updating a nation’s moral operating system—it keeps people aware of how freedom works. 

Finally, he emphasises the importance of prioritising the country, placing the health and continuity of the polity above partisan loyalties or personal agendas. The final habit, putting country first, demands loyalty not to a party, tribe, or personality, but to the principles that hold the republic together. Patriotism, in Haass’s sense, means protecting democracy even from one’s own side.

Habits like being informed and getting involved align closely with the concept of Kewarganegaraan Aktif, which encourages Indonesians to participate consciously in political, social, and civic life. In both frameworks, active participation is not optional but necessary to sustain a healthy polity. Similarly, Haass’s call to stay civil, reject violence, and compromise mirrors Indonesia’s emphasis on Musyawarah untuk Mufakat (deliberation for consensus) as a conflict-resolution and democratic practice, suggesting that dialogue and respect for others’ opinions are universal necessities for social cohesion.

Haass’s notions of valuing norms, promoting the common good, and respecting government service can also be mapped onto the Pancasila values of unity (Persatuan Indonesia) and social justice (Keadilan Sosial). In the Indonesian context, respecting government service might be reframed not as blind obedience, but as acknowledging the ideal of public duty while holding officials accountable—a nuanced perspective that could bridge the widespread public scepticism toward bureaucrats. Finally, the emphasis on supporting civic education and putting the country first echoes the Pancasila ethos of citizenship with conscience, reminding Indonesians that loyalty to the nation should supersede partisan or personal interests.

In sum, Haass’s ten habits and Indonesia’s Pancasila and Kewarganegaraan Aktif are mutually reinforcing. They both promote a vision of citizenship that is active, morally grounded, and oriented toward the common good. The challenge in Indonesia lies not in the absence of these principles but in their inconsistent application, highlighting the need for cultural, educational, and institutional reinforcement to cultivate citizens who are informed, responsible, and genuinely committed to democracy.

[Part 2]

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