In October, the UVA Karsh Institute of Democracy hosted a summit entitled “Democracy360.” The three-day conference aimed to bring together “thought leaders, journalists, policymakers, scholars, activists, artists, and students of all ages to imagine how we can collectively shape a thriving democratic future” at a time when democracy is dangerously threatened in America. 

After almost three years, an ever-divided country continues to reel from the January 6th attack on the Capitol and what the insurrection means for American democracy. While President Trump’s effort to subvert the 2020 election was an obvious example of democratic backsliding, it was only one of many recent signs of regression. Vanessa Williamson of the Brookings Institution succinctly explained that the United States is experiencing two major forms of democratic erosion: election manipulation and executive overreach. She recently wrote: 

“State legislatures under GOP control have moved to reduce voters’ access to the ballot and to politicize election administration. President Trump also engaged in unprecedented efforts to undermine the independent civil service. The Supreme Court has increased its authority over election adjudication, narrowed the scope of voting rights protections, and seems inclined to support some politicization of executive branch administration. Hyperpartisanship and gridlock leave Congress poorly positioned to provide checks on executive and judicial power.”

It felt fitting that the final event of the Democracy360 conference was a conversation between Jeffrey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, and Adam Kinzinger, former U.S. Republican representative from Illinois. Kinzinger was scrutinized by his party for his vocal opposition to Trump’s attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election. In keeping with the theme of the conference, the discussion focused on the need for truth, competing liberal and conservative philosophies, and going beyond partisan echo chambers to sustain a healthy democracy. Kinzinger insisted that it was his party, not his own views, that changed over the past few years, saying, “I intend to vote Democratic this election, not because I’ve changed my mind necessarily—I’ve moderated, you know, quite a bit—but because I think this is a binary choice. Do you like democracy or don’t you like democracy?”

The hour-long event was certainly the liveliest of the ones I attended that weekend, with frequent laughs, cheers, gasps, and several standing ovations. It left me feeling inspired and thinking that maybe democracy isn’t doomed after all. Outside the theater, however, I overheard an older woman say about Kinzinger’s remarks, “I don’t know, it all sounds pretty idealistic to me.” My optimistic bipartisan bubble quickly burst. I spent the following weeks pondering whether to see Kinzinger as naive or luminary. Is the majority Republican ideology the product of Trump, or are he and his followers products of the party? In other words, as posed to Kinzinger, “does Trumpism survive Trump”? And is it worth believing Kinzinger’s confidence that Republicans may eventually get exhausted and break away from Trump?

Kinzinger did sound pretty idealistic. But must we always write off idealism as ignorant or unrealistic? Idealism alone may be ineffective and ill-informed, but when coupled with real action, idealistic dreams are integral to progress. As stated by the renowned writer Kevin Kelly, “Over the long term, the future is decided by optimists.” Some of history’s most influential decisions came from leaders who dared to both dream big and to act on those aspirations.

Kinzinger acknowledged that change must start from the ground up because the Republican Party and problems of D.C. are not going to “fix” themselves. He used the rise of Alcoholics Anonymous (created in Akron, Ohio in 1935 by a New York stockbroker and an Akron surgeon) and Kiwanis (founded in Detroit, Michigan in 1915) as historical examples of the power of community-based programs that fundamentally changed the profile of the country. Other notable instances of successful movements created by visionary individuals include Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) which helped cut the number of drunk driving deaths by 50% and served nearly one million victims, and March for Our Lives, a group of youth activists and survivors who played an instrumental role in the creation of President Biden’s Office of Gun Violence Prevention. These organizations were created by people who saw a problem, thought of revolutionary solutions that had previously been unheard of or had been pushed to the side as unrealistic, and took small steps to fulfill their goals.

Right now, political leaders who are willing to act on their convictions and stand up for truth and democracy independent of party beliefs, like Kinzinger and recently ousted Representative Liz Cheney, former chair of the House Republican Conference, are certainly the minority. They took the first steps toward achieving a more unified United States, putting integrity first. We can choose to see them as the exceptions to a Republican party that is otherwise unredeemable, or we can hope that others might emulate them and the principles they stand for.

Dismissing the belief that a healthy democracy is possible simply because it is idealistic or out of reach is a slippery slope. American democracy is in danger, and it needs people on both sides of the aisle to step up when others have given up on it. Change is never easy, but it often starts with one person or one act. A realistic understanding of politics does not need to be restricted to discontent or apathy; it can include hope, optimism, and even idealism.