Frazier will join the law school faculty at the University of South Dakota as a Visiting Professor starting Academic Year 2023.
The “American Experiment” ended at some point. Our collective willingness to test new forms of governance dried up. Perhaps the nation grew complacent. Whatever the cause, the United States no longer appears to be a place where “the people” look for novel and substantial ways to ensure their government effectuates their will. Our overreliance on elections as the means and ends of our democratic engagement and oversight demonstrates the lack of democratic innovation and ingenuity among we, the people. It’s time to acknowledge that our flawed, but functioning system may need some updates beyond improving access to the ballot.
In theory, elections provide accountability by allowing for the replacement of officials who fail to advance the will of the people. In actuality, incumbents usually breeze through elections -- regardless of their fidelity to the will and needs of their constituents. In the 2022 midterms, 94% of incumbent state and local officials won reelection. If elections served as a true means of accountability, then retention rates should drop, especially in light of persistent inflation, continued economic inequality, and a slew of other policy failures.
Elections lend legitimacy to elected officials and the government by conveying the consent of the people to those officials exercising the people’s sovereign power, right? Again, wrong. Unless “the people” are ok with an unrepresentative group offering their consent, then elections fall short in this regard as well. Consider that an "usually high turnout" took place in the 2018 midterms -- when 47.5% of the voting age population actually turned out to vote. In the recent 2022 midterms, voters fell short of the “high” turnout rate from 2018 -- preliminary results suggest that just 46.8% of voters attempted to provide their consent via the ballot last November. In any other context, such a small percentage of the collective making such big decisions on behalf of everyone would be called out as ludicrous. Surely a classroom of 20 kindergartners would raise hell if 9 of them dictated whether they would have recess that day. It’s far from childish for voters to protest this arrangement.
The unrepresentativeness of the few eligible voters who actually participate in elections further diminishes the idea that elections convey the consent of the people. Voters tend to be older - whereas 72% of eligible voters over the age of 65 voted in the November 2020 election, just 49% of voters under the age of 25 did the same. Voters also tend to be whiter. Approximately 65% of White eligible voters turned out in the November 2016 election. Comparatively non-white voters turned out at much lower rates: 59.6% among Black voters; 49.3% among Asian voters; and, 47.6% among Hispanic voters. “The people” have cause to wonder whether such an unrepresentative and small sample of Americans can consent to whichever government results from an election.
The low turnout rate also indicates that elections ought not to be regarded as the people’s sole or even primary way of democratic participation. The narrative spun by political parties -- that voting is the most important form of democratic expression -- is self-serving and inaccurate. Parties try so hard to turnout voters because their power hinges on the people perceiving elections as a means of accountability and as an expression of their consent.
Democratic participation was meant to go beyond rubber-stamping incumbents to serve another term. For example, the Founding Fathers developed the jury system to give the people a role in the justice system and to prevent the enforcement of unjust laws via nullification. The vast majority of Americans agree that serving on a jury is a part of what it means to be a good citizen; yet, this form of participation has disappeared faster than a kid's snow cone during a Fourth of July parade - in 2016, just 43,697 people across the nation actually served on a federal petit jury, a decrease from the 71,578 who served in 2006.
Finally, it is not clear that we, the people, actually have the largest effect on election outcomes. As reported by the New York Times, wildly inaccurate and partisan polls likely skew campaign donations and alter voters’ decision to head to the polls or stay home. Money also shapes who voters can elect, if they even decide to turnout. Capacity to raise funds, rather than capacity to advocate for voters, decides who can run for office. And, similarly, the capacity to out-fundraise opponents is likely the deciding factor in whether a candidate can win their primary election.
Political parties are aware of the limited value of a vote when compared to the value of a dollar. Donations appear more valuable than votes to the parties -- as pointed out by Katherine Gehl, Democrats cannot send an extra Blue vote from San Francisco to El Paso, but they can transfer funds from a California donor to a candidate in Texas. Despite the fact that the current system results in partisan elected officials spending half their time dialing for dollars, the people still persist in thinking that elections offer the best means of accountability, legitimacy, and representativeness.
While it’s true that election fraud is - for lack of a better phrase - not a thing, it is fraud to perpetuate the idea we cannot do better than elections when it comes to empowering we, the people, to delegate our sovereign authority.
Citizen assemblies, made up of randomly selected individuals and granted some degree of legislative authority, can and should serve as a complement to and, perhaps eventually, substitute for our current election-centric approach to democracy. Imagine, for example, a state randomly selecting 100 residents to take the place of or supplement the work of their state legislature. These residents would mirror the demographics of the state -- they would bring diverse backgrounds, experiences, and ideologies to the assembly.
Assemblies can provide the people with a more responsive and unbiased policymaking body that could advance their will by vetoing bills, setting the legislative agenda, or determining whether a bill should be referred to the people via a ballot initiative. There’s no shortage of variations in terms of the size and authority of such an assembly. In fact, the creation of such assemblies should include opportunities to make adjustments to better realize their democratic potential.
The bottom line is that selecting our policymakers through elections has become profoundly undemocratic. Elections appear to no longer serve as accountability mechanisms; they increasingly fail to provide a sense of legitimacy; and, they often result in the election of hyper-partisan, unrepresentative officials.
Surely, we can use our democratic imagination to develop new processes to complement elections that better allow the people to participate in and control their democracy. Citizen assemblies are one such process, but others are out there. These processes are not perfect and will take time to refine, but learning and evolving are inherent to all experiments -- including democratic experiments. We know what elections produce…and those dismal results should encourage us all to innovate and not just around the edges.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.