Apparently, a democracy is a place where numerous elections are

The words of Gore Vidal, ever the sharp-tongued critic of power, sting with irony: “Apparently, a democracy is a place where numerous elections are held at great cost without issues and with interchangeable candidates.” In this saying, he strips away the lofty banners of democracy to reveal its decay when emptied of substance. For what is the worth of elections, if they serve only as rituals of expense and noise, while offering no real choice to the people? To Vidal, such a system becomes a shadow play—an illusion of freedom, where the actors may change, but the script remains the same.

The ancients warned of this danger. In Athens, the birthplace of democracy, philosophers like Plato feared that elections could become pageantry, where eloquent men dazzled the people with words while hiding their sameness beneath. If candidates are interchangeable, then democracy becomes not a vessel of freedom, but a mask for oligarchy. Vidal’s sarcasm pierces this very wound: the cost of elections grows heavy, but the value of them grows light, for the people are given the illusion of choice without its substance.

Consider the elections of the Gilded Age in America. Vast sums were spent by political machines, and ballots were cast in abundance, yet often the candidates differed little in policy or vision. The people voted, but the issues remained untouched, buried beneath corruption and the dominance of money. What Vidal observed in his time was not new—it was the same pattern, repeated through history, of democracy reduced to ritual while its spirit lay gasping.

Yet within his cynicism lies a hidden call. For Vidal’s scorn reminds us that democracy must be guarded, nourished, and reformed, lest it harden into empty spectacle. True elections must confront real issues; true candidates must bring forth real differences, offering the people not echoes of the same voice, but choices that shape their destiny. Otherwise, the cost is not merely financial, but the erosion of trust, the slow death of freedom disguised as its survival.

Let the generations remember: democracy is not the mere act of voting, but the living spirit of choice, accountability, and voice. If leaders become interchangeable, if elections become hollow, then democracy is but a stage where the actors change costumes while the people remain powerless spectators. Vidal’s wit, though bitter, is a torch—reminding us that if the people demand more than ritual, the stage may yet return to true drama, where choices matter and destinies are decided.