Breslin is the Joseph C. Palamountain Jr. Chair of Political Science at Skidmore College and author of “A Constitution for the Living: Imagining How Five Generations of Americans Would Rewrite the Nation’s Fundamental Law.”
This is the latest in a series to assist American citizens on the bumpy road ahead this election year. By highlighting components, principles and stories of the Constitution, Breslin hopes to remind us that the American political experiment remains, in the words of Alexander Hamilton, the “most interesting in the world.”
The simple statement that elections matter seems so obvious. But then again, it’s not clear that Americans — a disillusioned and frustrated lot if there ever was one — fully accept that the act of choosing representatives can drastically shape lives.
Just consider individual rights.
The election of the president of the United States has a direct effect on the appointment of federal judges, and those judges, more so than practically anyone, determine the strength and scope of our individual freedoms. Ergo elections impact rights.
The Dobbs case overturning Roe v. Wade and consigning a woman’s privacy right to certain geographical residencies is just the most noteworthy example. Think about the latest First Amendment cases where the Supreme Court reduced Thomas Jefferson’s separation of church and state to a mere pony wall (Carson v. Makin and Kennedy v. Bremerton, both decided in 2022). Or the recent redistricting case where, to the surprise of many, a slim liberal majority emerged to safeguard fundamental voting rights (Allen v. Milligan, 2023). Elections matter.
America’s constitutional drafters understood this. James Madison’s constitutional vision depended entirely on elections. He said so in Federalist 14. “In a democracy,” he argued, “the people meet and exercise the government in person; in a republic, they assemble and administer it by their representatives and agents.” Rejecting the idea of a direct or pure democracy in favor of an extended republic, said Madison, cured two political evils: rule by permanent majorities and the trampling of minority rights. To make an extended republic work, he knew, requires elections.
Alexander Hamilton agreed. In a 1777 letter to Gouverneur Morris, the New Yorker wrote: “A representative democracy, where the right of election is well secured and regulated & the exercise of the legislative, executive and judiciary authorities, is vested in select persons, chosen really and not nominally by the people, will in my opinion be most likely to be happy, regular and durable.”
Predictably, Abraham Lincoln was the most eloquent on the topic. He declared in his famous July 4, 1861, oration to Congress: “Our popular government has often been called an experiment. Two points in it our people have already settled — the successful establishment and the successful administering of it. One still remains — its successful maintenance against a formidable internal attempt to overthrow it. It is now for them to demonstrate to the world that those who can fairly carry an election can also suppress a rebellion; that ballots are the rightful and peaceful successors of bullets; and that when ballots have fairly and constitutionally decided, there can be no successful appeal back to bullets; that there can be no successful appeal except to ballots themselves, at succeeding elections. Such will be a great lesson of peace; teaching men that what they cannot take by an election neither can they take by a war; teaching all the folly of being the beginners of a war.”
Of course, words are one thing. America’s first constitutional defenders embraced elections, but not inclusion. Aristocratic elements penetrated popular government in the early republic; participation was restricted to the few. The initial expansion of the electorate beyond propertied white men came during Reconstruction, four score and three years after America’s constitutional birth. It was too long in coming. And yet once the 15th Amendment welcomed Black males to the ballot box in 1870, resistance to a more expansive electorate weakened a bit.
Wyoming allowed women to vote in 1869; Utah followed a year later, and then Colorado, and Idaho, and Washington, and California. By 1920, when the 19th Amendment finally recognized women’s suffrage across the country, 15 states had already expanded their voting rolls to include women. In 1925, Congress enacted the Indian Citizenship Act, granting the vote to Native Americans born in the United States. Less than a generation after that milestone, Asian Americans could vote as well.
The 1960s were a boon for the eager electorate. The 23rd Amendment, ratified in 1961, allowed folks inside the Beltway to participate in presidential elections, while the 24th, three years later, barred all poll taxes. The Voting Rights Act of 1965, a landmark piece of legislation (which was extended in future years under Republican Presidents Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan) followed. And in 1971, the 26th Amendment was ratified. From that day on, even teenagers could vote.
For a century — between 1869 and 1971 — each generation contributed to bringing more voters under the tent. To be sure, expansion of access to the ballot box has accelerated throughout America’s political development. Millions more Americans are voting now than just 60 years ago. An identical 62 percent of the voting age population turned out for the presidential elections in both 1960 and 2020. The difference? The vote tally: 68 million ballots were cast in 1960; 160 million were cast in 2020.
But closer inspection reveals a slightly darker picture. Essays like this one tend to romanticize the past, as if constitutional champions throughout American history suddenly awoke to a more inclusive and progressive conviction. That, sadly, is not the case. More voters means greater struggles to hold on to the vote. Literacy tests, grandfather clauses, poll taxes, white primaries, intimidation, even fraud — these were once the common methods used to prevent a free Black population from voting. States adopted similar schemes to disenfranchise women after passage of the 19th Amendment. Immigrants, Native Americans, Jews, and other demographic groups faced their own voting obstacles.
And those injustices are not yet behind us. Over the past few years, many states have subtly, and not so subtly, increased barriers to voting, including imposing greater restrictions on voting by mail, reducing polling locations, introducing or expanding ID requirements, and limiting voting day registration opportunities. According to the Brennan Center for Justice, 2021 holds the unenviable title as a “record-breaking year for legislative activity around voting rights.”
The Supreme Court deserves some of the blame for opening the door to official voter suppression. Shelby County v. Holder (2013) gutted the Voting Rights Act by obliterating Section 5, the provision that required states with a history of discrimination to get “pre-clearance” before implementing changes to their voting procedures. The five-member conservative majority opined that such red tape had become “out of date,” that the requirement to get pre-clearance was now an unconstitutional congressional intrusion on state authority. The consequence? States that once imposed poll taxes and literacy tests, indeed ones that looked the other way when Black voters were literally beaten for casting a ballot, could now be trusted to self-monitor their own electoral procedures.
But make no mistake, it is “We, the People,” who deserve most of the blame. Membership on the Supreme Court is a product of our choices on Election day. It’s quite simple: If we did not want Chief Justice John Roberts, who wrote the majority opinion in Shelby, to eviscerate Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act, or Justices Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas, Anthony Kennedy, and Samuel Alito to concur in that finding, we should have voted differently for the presidents who appointed them.
Similarly, we have the collective power to raze the barriers to universal voting; we can reverse the recent trend away from electoral expansion; we can insist on motor voter laws, minimally restrictive mail voting, an Election Day paid holiday, more polling locations, and on and on and on. How? By fearlessly and consistently entering the voting booth.




















Children watch a July Fourth Parade along the Walkway of Heroes and Independence Avenue on July 04, 2026 in Tappan, New York.
The Great American Grumpfest
Our nation’s 250th birthday party didn’t feel especially patriotic and wasn’t as much fun as the 200th anniversary was.
President Trump, who did his best to co-opt our holiday for his personal aggrandizement, was a major reason. The party he threw in Washington, D.C., was crankier than uplifting, and less about celebrating our shared past and a promising future than about reminding us how far we have strayed from our founders’ plan to create a republic that future Americans would keep in good working order.
Credit Trump this much. He has a singular gift for picking at scabs that other politicians would rather ignore and pushing us into reckonings we don’t need.
The thing is, Americans have seen all this before. Sometimes the makeover we were encouraged to undertake was more conservative, sometimes more liberal. Whatever direction we were pushing, however, the reckoning we had in mind this time had to be more forthright and the conclusion more definitive than it was the last time.
Our current discontents, the ones behind the reckoning President Trump has been trying to inspire, are not trivial. Included among them are immigration, birthright citizenship, exploding healthcare costs, election rigging, a gag-inducing national debt, how we educate our children, too many genders, racial differences we can’t move past, a lopsided economy that favors more well-off Americans, and historic levels of political corruption and graft. Add to these the several foreign adventures he has pushed us into or is anxious to undertake, and you have the makings of a national headache the likes of which we haven’t had in half a century.
All the elbow-throwing and overheated rhetoric we’re using today have begun to look almost normal in all the ways that bickering neighbors and feuding family members appear normal. But they have also made us look mean-spirited and have portrayed our differences as irreconcilable. To ourselves, of course, but also to many people outside the United States who might be forgiven for turning their heads and not looking at the national car wreck we Americans show no interest in avoiding.
The good news, as I suggested above, is that Americans have had a great deal of practice dealing with challenges and national car wrecks like these.
This essay begins to lay out the reasons why.
By way of illustration, we have our seemingly insatiable demand for more bad news about race in America.
Sixty years after being released from the legal constrictions that bedeviled both white and black Americans, many white people have come to believe the color that used to make them unassailable is now a sign of a moral inferiority born of a racial animus they can never wash off. Many black people, on the other hand, are insisting that America is as hopelessly stacked against them as the formerly unassailable white people’s ancestors used to tell their black ones.
The result is that many people today are buying into racist nightmares and mumbo jumbo that their black and white ancestors worked hard and effectively to put in each other’s heads.
This might be dismissed as crazy behavior if it weren’t so important to rituals Americans have long used to express their deepest fears about each other while figuring out what move they can make that won’t end with their world crashing down on everybody’s head.
Unfortunately, the kind of cultural sleight of hand we have used to ramp up our racial differences has been appropriated by people who have many other cultural fears and unresolved differences with each other. Their clumsy but culturally prescribed missteps are making all these other issues look as irremediable as our racial problems.
A good place to start an answer to how we back away from ledges is Alexis de Tocqueville’s writing on early-19th-century American democracy. He had an optimistic take on Americans’ unscripted displays of public bravado, recrimination, and payback.
For him, these were occasions when people tried to mitigate the effects of the unfair hand they were dealing someone else or had themselves been dealt by behaving in ways quite at odds with how they would otherwise be expected to act. These inversions of what Tocqueville called “the natural order of conscience” presented themselves as a loud but culturally muted challenge to the hypocrisies that people had built into the world they’d made together.
One of his favorite illustrations of early-American hypocrisy involved slave masters sleeping with their less-than-worthy slaves. To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t pick up on all the ways that slaves messed with their owners. Their well-chronicled and quiet resistance showed that even severely ill-treated people can exercise more control over their lives than outsiders appreciate.
Be that as it may, such inversions of a people’s “natural order of conscience” make a good public show of them wrestling with demons they can’t or may not want to shake off, but in any case, are nowhere close to figuring out how to cast out.
Implicit in these disruptions was the discomforting idea that people might flip the entire script and turn the world on its head in more permanent ways. That kind of flipping worked out better for us in our revolution against England than in our Civil War. These events taught us the value of stepping back from historically unprecedented ledges.
Americans of late have been giving loud expression to a long list of things they don’t like about each other and the last makeover they started but didn’t finish a half-century ago. The outcome of our fights today will be as revealing as they are embarrassing to everyone who imagined they could recast our country in a way that privileged their favorite kind of Americans.
Their disappointment with the accommodations they strike will be palpable, but the middling results they achieve with all their pushing and shoving won’t be anything they can’t live with.
Anthropologists who have written about such moments in other cultures less “advanced” than our own show that people find ways to work around their seemingly irreconcilable differences without ever fully resolving them. Indeed, the patches and repairs people make have the unheralded effect of reinforcing rather than undermining the legitimacy of the practices and values they thought were fundamentally flawed.
For example…
White guilt and black pessimism do more good than putting cash into the pockets of professional shamers and handwringers. They give the rest of us who don’t feel guilty or powerless more time to make the world less racially unequal. Good news.
Regarding illegal immigration, the entrance requirements for future immigrants will remain stringent. Americans will applaud the continued detention and deportation of the few illegal immigrants who commit serious crimes. Good news.
All the people who came to the United States without being legally vetted and were locked up for a time will be released in numbers small enough to avoid serious media attention. Along with the several million other good people who snuck in but avoided capture, the former detainees will go to school, find gainful employment, pay their taxes, and stay out of trouble. Many will eventually become citizens. Good news.
Investigations into election tampering and Donald Trump’s 2020 presidential loss will come to an unceremonious conclusion the day after his second term ends. Many Americans will grumble about this, but there will also be some quiet partying, too. Good and bad news.
Congressional hearings into all the grifting accomplished by people tied to the Trump administration will end without anyone having to pay a dime back to the American taxpayers. Bad news, we’ll learn to live with.
New laws and regulations will be created in the hope that the kind of corruption practiced by President Trump will not be repeated for another 250 years. Good news, I hope we’ll live long enough to enjoy.
Show trials for people who allegedly vandalized the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, if they happen, will get big television viewer ratings. Good news.
Trials for pardoned Capitol insurrectionists who committed serious crimes after their release should get more attention, but won’t. Bad news.
We will continue to hear nothing from most of the people who were pardoned for crimes they committed in the insurrection at the Capitol on January 6, 2021. They will keep their mouths shut and their heads down for the rest of their life. Good news.
The gold-gilded ornaments that Donald Trump had plastered all over the White House will be shipped to Mar-a-Lago, where the former president will sell them on eBay. Fun news.
American taxpayers end up paying for most of the new East Wing, the removal of the miniature gladiatorial arena that was built behind the White House, and the restoration of the White House rose garden. Bad news.
The Triumphal Arch was never built. Good news.
Trad wives and gay couples raise perfectly lovely children. Good but unsurprising news.
Trans men and women learn that most Americans can’t figure out who they used to be. No one gives a second thought to their use of “family bathrooms” or “unisex bathrooms” in public settings, businesses, and schools. Communities will sponsor athletic teams that have trans boys and girls just to show they can. Good news.
Budget deficits will be kicked down the road for someone else’s children to pay down. Bad news.
Federal agencies that had their budgets and employee ranks slashed during President Trump’s second term are getting some of the money and lost positions back. Good news.
Elite universities will buy their way out of DEI purgatory by competing for conservative scholars whose inflated salaries dwarf those of their liberal colleagues, who will think about suing their institutions for reverse discrimination but won’t be able to figure out who would pay for it or care. More fun news.
Okay. I’ve probably missed some ways that Americans will step back from the ledges they have been making noises about leaping off. But to the extent that my predictions pan out, the best and most important moral of the stories about us stepping away is this: everything we lost and took back, or had returned to us, will have happened without our government collapsing, civic traditions crumbling, or our people beating each other up.
The reason why is that the differences Americans have with each other really weren’t as irreconcilable as we made them out to be. The empty-sounding bromide that Americans have more that unites us than divides us turns out to be true, not just metaphorically but in fact.
Now that is really something to celebrate.
Daniel J. Monti (danieljmonti.com) is Professor of Sociology at Saint Louis University and the author of American Democracy and Disconsent: Liberalism and Illiberalism in Ferguson, Charlottesville, Black Lives Matter, and the Capitol Insurrection.