In an age of polarization and institutional strain, it’s tempting to think that the health of our democracy hinges on what happens in Washington — on the decisions of judges, the actions of presidents, or the balance of power in Congress. But that view misses something essential. The real ballast of our constitutional order isn’t found in marble buildings or legal texts. It’s found in the people: citizens who organize, vote, and hold the line when norms are tested. If democracy is to endure, it will be because ordinary Americans choose to enforce its rules, both written and unwritten, at the ballot box and beyond.

This kind of civic engagement isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t trend on social media or draw cable news coverage. But it’s the quiet force that keeps our institutions honest. When parties drift toward extremism, when candidates flirt with authoritarianism, when norms of truth, decency, and peaceful transfer of power are threatened, it’s grassroots citizens who must step in, not just to protest, but to organize, persuade, and vote accordingly.

We saw this vividly in the 2022 midterms. Across battleground states, voters rejected election-denying candidates who sought offices that oversee elections. In Arizona, Adrian Fontes defeated Mark Finchem, a conspiracy theorist and January 6 participant. In Nevada, Cisco Aguilar beat Jim Marchant, who vowed to “fix the whole country” and reinstall Donald Trump. In Michigan, Jocelyn Benson held off Kristina Karamo, who pushed baseless election fraud claims. And in Pennsylvania, Josh Shapiro defeated Doug Mastriano, one of the most prominent election deniers in the country.

These weren’t just partisan victories. They were constitutional ones. Voters crossed party lines to defend the machinery of democracy itself, not because they agreed on every policy issue, but because they recognized a deeper threat. And it didn’t happen by accident. It happened because local organizers, civic groups, and everyday Americans did the work. They knocked on doors, made calls, and built coalitions that prioritized democratic norms over tribal loyalty.

Our laws and norms are only as strong as this type of effort, which backstops them. And it’s the kind of engagement that matters not just during election cycles, but between them. It shows up in school board meetings, city councils, and state legislatures. It shows up when citizens push back against book bans, gerrymandering, or efforts to undermine transparency. It shows up when people demand accountability from their own party, rather than excusing bad behavior for the sake of power.

That’s the hard part. It’s easy to call out the other side. It’s harder to hold your own side to account. But that’s exactly what democracy requires: a willingness to enforce norms even when it’s inconvenient, even when it costs you politically. Because if we only defend the rules when they benefit us, we’re not defending democracy. We’re gaming it.

This principle isn’t unique to the United States. Around the world, we’ve seen citizens rise up to reject authoritarian drift and reclaim democratic norms. In Zambia, after years of democratic erosion, voters in 2021 ousted the incumbent president and elected Hakainde Hichilema, a pro-democracy reformer, in a peaceful transition that defied expectations. In Slovakia, mass protests and civic organizing led to the resignation of a corrupt government and the election of reform-minded leaders. These examples remind us that when democracy deteriorates, its fate is not sealed. It can be reclaimed by citizens who refuse to accept the slide.

And for America, this ethos is woven into the very fabric of our founding. When Benjamin Franklin exited the Constitutional Convention in 1787, he was famously asked what kind of government the delegates had created. His reply: “A republic, if you can keep it.” That line wasn’t a flourish. It was a warning. Franklin understood that the Constitution was not self-executing. It would require vigilance, virtue, and active participation from the people themselves. The Founders believed that civic duty was the lifeblood of the republic, that liberty could only be preserved through an informed and engaged citizenry.

Principles First was founded on this idea: that principled citizens must lead the way in restoring democratic norms. We’ve seen firsthand how powerful it can be when people of different backgrounds come together around shared values — not just to talk, but to act. We’ve hosted town halls, built coalitions, and supported candidates who put country over party. And we’ve done it without asking anyone to abandon their core beliefs — only to prioritize the rule of law and the integrity of our institutions.

That’s the model we need. Not a unity of ideology, but a unity of purpose. A recognition that democracy depends on more than policy wins. It depends on the character of our civic life. And that character is shaped by what we tolerate, what we reward, and what we’re willing to fight for.

So yes, we need reform. We need better laws, stronger guardrails, and more responsive institutions. But none of that will matter if citizens aren’t engaged. If we want a democracy that works, we have to work for it — not just once every four years, but every day. We have to show up, speak out, and vote with our principles intact.

Because in the end, the Constitution doesn’t enforce itself. Norms don’t police themselves. Institutions don’t protect themselves. We do.

And if we’re serious about preserving democracy, we have to be serious about organizing — across party lines, across differences, and across the country. That’s the last line of defense. And it’s the one we can’t afford to neglect.