Democracy is the only system that persists in asking the powers

When Sydney J. Harris wrote, “Democracy is the only system that persists in asking the powers that be whether they are the powers that ought to be,” he captured the eternal heartbeat of freedom — the unyielding spirit of self-examination that separates liberty from tyranny. In this single sentence, Harris distilled the essence of what makes democracy not just a form of government, but a living conscience. For in every age, in every land, power has a tendency to forget its place. Kings, dictators, and rulers throughout history have cloaked themselves in divine right or ideology, believing that might alone grants legitimacy. Yet democracy, with its humble courage, dares to ask the forbidden question: “Do you deserve your power?” That question, simple yet subversive, is the foundation upon which every free society must rest.

The origin of this quote lies in the mid-20th century, when Harris, a columnist known for his moral clarity and intellectual depth, wrote about the responsibilities of citizenship in a rapidly changing world. The world had just emerged from the devastation of world war and was now locked in ideological struggle — communism versus capitalism, dictatorship versus democracy. Amid this turmoil, Harris recognized a truth both ancient and profound: that democracy, for all its flaws, alone possesses the courage to question itself. In monarchies or dictatorships, authority is treated as sacred, unquestionable, even godlike. But in a democracy, power is never beyond scrutiny. The people — not the ruler — are the ultimate judges of right and wrong, and through debate, dissent, and dialogue, they hold power accountable to truth.

Harris’s insight reminds us that democracy is not defined by elections alone, but by the spirit of inquiry that sustains it. To ask “whether the powers that be are the powers that ought to be” is to insist that justice, not mere authority, governs society. It is to declare that no man, no office, and no institution is immune from moral judgment. This is the heartbeat of freedom: that the governed have the sacred right to question their governors. Without that right, democracy decays into ritual — a hollow form where the people vote but no longer speak, where laws exist but no longer serve. Harris understood that the greatest threat to liberty is not the strength of tyrants, but the silence of the free.

History itself bears witness to this truth. In the 1970s, the Watergate scandal in the United States tested the very soul of democratic accountability. A sitting president, Richard Nixon, was found to have abused his power, manipulating institutions meant to uphold justice. But instead of collapsing into submission, the democratic system — through journalists, lawmakers, and citizens — demanded answers. The question Harris described was asked in real time: “Are these the powers that ought to be?” And the answer, though painful, was clear — they were not. Nixon resigned, and democracy endured. In that moment, the people proved that true power does not lie in the office, but in the moral vigilance of the citizenry.

In contrast, look to nations where that question cannot be asked — where dissent is silenced, where authority masquerades as infallibility. History has shown, from the Roman emperors to the modern autocrats, that when leaders cease to be questioned, they cease to be just. Rome fell not merely to enemies at its gates, but to emperors who silenced the Senate and crushed the people’s voice. When power no longer answers to principle, corruption becomes the law, and fear becomes the creed. Harris’s warning is timeless: a government that cannot be questioned is a government that has already fallen, whether it knows it or not.

And yet, his words are not only a warning, but a call to courage. For the act of questioning power is not easy — it demands both wisdom and bravery. It requires citizens who think critically, speak truthfully, and act honorably. Harris’s democracy is not passive; it is a living dialogue between the governed and their governors. It thrives only when people care enough to demand better — when they hold their leaders to account not out of cynicism, but out of love for justice. To be a citizen in a democracy is to be a guardian of truth, watching not with suspicion, but with vigilance, ensuring that those who hold power do so with integrity.

The lesson of Harris’s words, then, is both profound and practical: freedom survives only when it questions itself. Democracy is not self-sustaining; it must be renewed by the courage of every generation. To preserve it, one must never mistake authority for virtue, or silence for peace. Ask questions — not to destroy, but to purify. Challenge leaders — not out of hatred, but out of hope. The strength of a democracy lies not in blind obedience, but in enlightened participation.

So let this teaching be remembered and passed down: question power, always — but do so with wisdom, with truth, and with love for your fellow man. For in that sacred act lies the soul of freedom itself. When the people cease to ask, tyranny awakens; but when the people dare to ask, with courage in their voices and justice in their hearts, even the mightiest empire must bow before the will of the just.