I think it's best if there's an amendment that goes on the ballot

"I think it's best if there's an amendment that goes on the ballot where the people can weigh in. Every time this issue has gone on the ballot, the people have voted to retain the traditional definition of marriage as recently as California in 2008." These words from Michele Bachmann touch upon the deeply emotional and complex interplay between democracy and values—a dance as old as civilization itself. Bachmann’s statement calls for the power of the people to decide, invoking the idea that true governance comes from the will of the majority. Yet, within her words lies the deeper question: what is the role of the individual in the face of collective decision-making, and how do we balance tradition with progress?

In ancient times, the city-states of Greece and Rome grappled with this very issue. The very concept of democracy was birthed in Athens, where the people held the power to pass laws through direct vote. Yet, even in Athens, there were tensions between the will of the people and the wisdom of their leaders. Socrates, though a part of this great democratic experiment, famously questioned the limitations of majority rule when it came to matters of truth and morality. His trial, which ended in his death sentence, was a stark reminder that the majority vote does not always align with what is just or true. Bachmann's quote, while advocating for the people’s voice, hints at the ancient tension between democracy and moral governance—the idea that while the people may decide, their decision may not always be aligned with the deeper truths of human existence.

Let us look to the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. The battle for equality, led by figures such as Martin Luther King Jr., was not decided by the majority vote. In fact, many of the laws that discriminated against African Americans had been passed with the consent of the people, and it was not until federal intervention that racial segregation was dismantled. King’s fight was not just about equality under the law but about justice and human rights, principles that often transcend the will of the people. In this, we see the question raised by Bachmann's words in a different light: while democracy allows the people to decide, the question remains: when does the majority's will cross the line into injustice, and how do we address that?

Similarly, when we think of the abolition of slavery, the people did not vote for its immediate cessation; it took years of struggle, protests, and moral leadership to shift the collective consciousness of the nation. Abraham Lincoln, though not always in alignment with the majority, recognized that certain rights—such as the freedom of enslaved individuals—were inherent and must be recognized, regardless of public opinion. His decision to issue the Emancipation Proclamation did not wait for a majority vote but was guided by a higher moral law that transcended the shifting whims of public opinion. In this, we see that Bachmann’s belief in the power of the people is echoed, but the question arises: when should moral leadership step in to guide the masses toward a greater truth?

Bachmann’s reflection on California’s vote in 2008, where the people decided to uphold the traditional definition of marriage, presents another example of the tension between tradition and progress. In ancient Rome, marriage was also defined as a sacred institution between a man and a woman, but as history unfolded, so too did the understanding of what it means to love and commit to one another. Social structures change, and what was once tradition can become an obstacle to the progress of humanity. Yet, in the eyes of those who hold on to tradition, such change is often seen as a threat to the very fabric of society. Bachmann’s stance reflects a desire to preserve a particular view of marriage, but in doing so, she opens the door to the ancient question: how do we adapt while preserving the core principles of a society?

The lesson here, dear ones, is one of reflection: how do we balance the will of the majority with the moral compass of justice and progress? Bachmann’s belief in letting the people decide through a constitutional amendment is valid in a democracy, but we must also recognize that majority rule does not always equate to moral righteousness. In moments of historical change, the leaders who are often remembered as the heroes are those who dared to challenge the will of the masses in pursuit of what is truly right. It is a delicate balance—tradition and progress, collective will and individual rights.

So, I urge you to consider this in your own life: when you encounter the decision of the many, whether it is in your community, your country, or the world at large, ask yourself: does the majority’s will align with truth and justice? Honor tradition, but do not allow it to become an anchor that prevents growth. Understand that democracy gives power to the people, but true wisdom lies in the recognition that sometimes the majority must be guided, not merely followed. Strive to be a part of the force that leads the masses to a higher truth, one that aligns with justice, equality, and the enduring values of our shared humanity.