I sit in front of the television or listen to podcasts to follow the marathon of debates for the January elections and I confirm a simple suspicion: the way we distribute attention between those who want to debate and those who prefer to set fire is making our democracy more fragile. The good news is that the presidential campaign has revealed, for the most part, a relatively civil confrontation of ideas. Despite programmatic differences, the candidates have managed to explain positions, criticize proposals and clarify visions for the country, without turning every minute of television into a spectacle of personal aggression. There are interruptions, there is tension, there are disagreements, as is natural in a living democracy, but as a rule, we have the notion that political debate requires respect for the facts, for the interlocutor or interlocutor and for who will vote.
But this portrait is not complete. Because, alongside the majority that debates, there is also a noisy minority that prefers to set fires. A minority that turns every public appearance into a small theater of fury, that confuses courage with shouting and that believes that the best way to gain political space is to set fire to the tent of democracy. He’s the pyromaniac on duty who doesn’t want to debate, but rather wants to watch it burn. And it does not seek to clarify, but to destabilize.
It is important to recognize that these two worlds influence each other. The permanent tension puts pressure on all political actors. The temptation to respond in the same vein, to give in to loud populism, is always present. But this is precisely why civilized debates have an almost pedagogical value, as they show that democracy can function without shouting, that contradiction can be firm without being rude and that politics does not have to be a succession of attacks on everything and everyone.
And yet, when I read the newspapers, watch the televisions, listen to the radio and scroll through social media, it becomes clear that the contrast between possible civility and deliberate rioting is even more evident after the debate is over. Verbal violence, bravado, insults transformed into political and media methods, the normalization of lack of education, all of this seems to have become the preferred fuel of an ecosystem where noise overcomes reasoning and spectacle sells more than reason. Media attention does not necessarily follow the quality of democracy, but rather the volume of the cry. And, at this point, the difference becomes even more disturbing, as the pyromaniac appears more often in the news, occupies more space on social media and gains more minutes of public attention than someone who offers us an enlightening debate. The democracy that discusses takes a backseat, while the populism that shouts takes the spotlight.
In his speech on November 25th, the President of the Republic made an appeal that deserves to be remembered: the need for temperance. An ancient but increasingly urgent virtue. Temper your words, measure your gestures, refuse the easy fire that destroys everything. If we want to protect the quality of our democracy, perhaps this is the first step: distinguishing those who want to build a better country from those who just want to watch the tent burn.
At a time when excess is often confused with authenticity, it is important to remember that true democratic strength lies in the quality of argumentation and not in the volume of shouting. And that permanent provocation is not courage, but simply an inability to contribute to a democracy that defends the rights of each person, responds to their afflictions and recognizes the value of everyone who lives, works and helps our collective progress here.
Guest Professor UCP/UNL/UÉ