There are moments in American history when the question is not which party will win, but whether self-government itself is working as intended. This feels like one of those moments.
On Feb. 12, 1809, Abraham Lincoln was born into a country still wrestling with the meaning of equality. Decades later, at Gettysburg, he reminded Americans the nation was “conceived in liberty” and dedicated to the proposition that all are created equal. He understood something fundamental: If we abandon equality before the law — if we accept that some people count more than others — we have surrendered the core promise of the American experiment.
Sandra Williams
Lincoln’s warning still resonates because the tension he confronted never fully disappears. Democracy constantly contends with concentrations of wealth and power. In Lincoln’s day, fabulously wealthy enslavers argued that hierarchy was natural and equality absurd. Lincoln dismantled that logic with a simple challenge: If one group can claim the right to dominate another, what principle prevents someone stronger from dominating you?
The logic of inequality, once admitted, never stops where you think it will.
“The role of billionaires in American politics has become impossible to ignore.”
Today, the threat to democratic equality does not take the same form, but the underlying concern is familiar. The role of billionaires in American politics has become impossible to ignore. They fund campaigns. They shape media ecosystems. They underwrite Super PACs. They often enjoy extraordinary access to policymakers. Research consistently shows that individuals with vast wealth are dramatically more likely to run for office (and win) than ordinary citizens. Money does not guarantee victory, but it undeniably expands opportunity and influence.
This reality raises uncomfortable questions. When the wealthiest Americans have disproportionate political voice, are we drifting toward a system in which government responds more readily to capital than to citizens? When indoor seats at inaugurations, high-level advisory roles and regulatory influence cluster among the ultra-wealthy, what message does that send about who belongs in the governing circle?
Democracy depends not only on fair laws, but on public confidence that power derives from the consent of the governed — not from the balance sheets of the powerful.
Yet focusing solely on billionaires risks overlooking a quieter but equally consequential issue: participation. In many states, especially those with closed primaries, the most decisive election is often not in November but months earlier.
Primary turnout is typically far lower than that of the general election. In numerous districts, especially heavily partisan ones, the primary effectively determines the officeholder. Sit out the primary, and you may already have ceded your influence.
Closed primaries require voters to affiliate with a party in order to participate. Many Americans dislike that requirement. They see themselves as independent, and in spirit they are. But mechanics matter. If 80% or more of races are functionally decided in primaries, then disengagement at that stage is a choice to let a smaller, more ideologically intense electorate make decisions for everyone else.
Democracy is not self-executing. It is self-defending.
Self-defense in a democratic society is not a kick or a punch. It is registration before the deadline. It is understanding your state’s rules. It is voting in the primary even when the general election seems far away. It is demanding candidates who speak credibly about the cost of living, wages, health care, child care, elder care, public safety, environmental stewardship and constitutional boundaries — issues that shape daily life far more than performative cultural skirmishes.
“Broader participation moderates extremes, not because it suppresses conviction but because it widens accountability.”
When primary electorates are small and highly motivated, campaigns often tilt toward the loudest or most polarizing voices. When broader segments of the public participate, incentives shift. Candidates must appeal to working families, small-business owners, retirees and young voters concerned about opportunity. Broader participation moderates extremes, not because it suppresses conviction but because it widens accountability.
Meanwhile, the structural advantages of wealth remain. Billionaires can amplify certain narratives, bankroll challengers or insulate incumbents. They can frame policy debates long before voters ever see a ballot. None of this is illegal; much of it is constitutionally protected. But legality and legitimacy are not the same. A system can comply with the letter of the law while still drifting from its democratic spirit.
Lincoln understood that democracy rests on a moral proposition: equality before the law. Not equality of outcome, not equality of talent, but equality of standing. If some citizens are treated as inherently more important — because of race in his era or because of wealth in ours — the promise weakens.
The solution is not cynicism. Nor is it retreat. It is participation.
Register before the deadline. Understand whether your state has a closed primary. Vote in March, not just November. Demand transparency in campaign finance. Support reforms that increase accountability and reduce the distorting influence of money. And above all, resist the temptation to treat politics as theater.
In the midst of civil war, Lincoln called on Americans to ensure that government “of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” That charge was not poetic ornament. It was an operational instruction.
A government of the people requires people.
When citizens disengage, concentrated power fills the vacuum — whether in the hands of ideologues, entrenched interests or billionaires with the means to shape the field. When citizens show up, in primaries as well as general elections, the balance shifts back toward broad accountability.
Democracy is not a spectator sport. It is a recurring test of whether we still believe that political equality is worth the effort it demands. The experiment continues. The question is whether we will participate in it.
Sandra “Sam” Williams lives in St. Augustine, Fla.