Imagine you’re on a plane. The pilot just passed out. Panic spreads. A flight attendant grabs the intercom and says, “Okay, folks, we’re going to vote on who flies this thing!”
A guy in a Hawaiian shirt stands up. “I’ve never flown before,” he says, “but I did watch Top Gun last night.”
The crowd cheers. Democracy in action.
This is how we pick leaders.
We don’t ask who’s studied governance, law, or economics. We ask who makes us feel good. Who we’d like to have a beer with. Who entertains us. The Hawaiian shirt guy wins every time.
Plato saw this coming over 2,000 years ago. And he was not impressed.
The Boat Problem (Or, Why Feelings Aren’t a Qualification for Leadership)
Plato compared society to a ship. A fragile, lumbering thing floating in a sea of chaos.
If you’re lost at sea, you don’t gather the passengers, hand out little slips of paper, and let them vote on who should steer.
You find the person who knows how to navigate—someone who can read the stars, chart the course, and keep you from crashing into the rocks.
Democracy, Plato argued, doesn’t do that.
It lets everyone have a say, including those who don’t know port from starboard.
People aren’t rational, he warned.
They’re emotional. They’re easily swayed. They don’t vote for the most competent leader—they vote for the best salesman.
The one who tells them what they want to hear. The one who makes them feel safe, or angry, or powerful.
Not the one who actually knows how to keep the ship afloat.
And that brings us to modern politics.
How Plato’s Nightmare Came True
Look at ancient Athens. The city that birthed democracy also sentenced Socrates to death.
Not because he was a criminal.
Not because he had done anything wrong.
But because he asked too many questions, made people uncomfortable, and refused to flatter the crowd.
The people didn’t want wisdom—they wanted reassurance.
They didn’t vote for truth—they voted for what made them feel good. And so, they condemned one of history’s greatest minds with a show of hands.
This isn’t about Athens, though. It’s about the system that allows charisma to beat competence.
Every election, every era, we see it: the loudest, most entertaining candidate rises to the top.
The one who makes the best promises, spins the best stories, delivers the most rousing speeches. Experience and expertise take a backseat to spectacle.
It’s not a glitch in democracy. It’s a feature.
The Problem With Popularity Contests
People like simple solutions. They want their problems boiled down to a single sentence, preferably something they can yell at the TV or slap on a bumper sticker.
They don’t want to hear about complex policies or long-term strategies.
They want someone who “tells it like it is,” even if “how it is” is completely wrong.
Nuance doesn’t sell. Patience doesn’t win votes. Thoughtfulness?
That’s just another word for weak. What wins is the guy who points a finger, finds an enemy, and promises to fix everything with a wave of his hand.
People eat it up because it feels good. Because it’s easier than thinking.
And then social media came along and made everything worse.
Now, politics isn’t about governing—it’s about engagement.
Outrage spreads faster than reason. The most dramatic politician gets the most shares, the most retweets, the most airtime.
And in a world where attention is currency, the loudest voice always cashes in.
We’re not electing leaders. We’re electing influencers.
Explaining It to a Bro With a Limited IQ
Bro: “Dude, what’s wrong with democracy? The people get to choose, that’s fair.”
Me: “Alright, imagine you need heart surgery.”
Bro: “Okay.”
Me: “Do you want a skilled surgeon or some dude who tells a great story about how he feels your pain?”
Bro: “I mean… the surgeon, obviously.”
Me: “Now, imagine the hospital is a democracy. Instead of picking the best surgeon, the patients vote. And they pick the guy who says he can do surgery, but actually just sells vitamins on YouTube.”
Bro: “Oh. Crap.”
Me: “That’s how we pick presidents.”
So, What’s the Fix?
Democracy isn’t the villain, but maybe we’ve been treating it like a slot machine—toss in a vote, pull the lever, hope for the best.
Maybe we need fewer lucky numbers and more solid hands on the wheel.
Require expertise
We don’t let just anyone fly a plane. You wouldn’t trust a surgeon who learned from YouTube.
Yet, we hand over entire economies, entire futures, to people who’ve never read a book on the subject.
A man who wouldn’t be trusted to run a corner store is given the keys to the treasury.
Teach media literacy
A magician distracts with one hand while the trick happens in the other. Politics works the same way. They give you bread, they give you circus, they give you rage—anything to keep you from seeing the wires behind the puppet show.
Teach people to see the trick, and suddenly, the magic disappears.
Limit money in politics
Right now, elections are won by the man with the biggest wallet, not the biggest heart. A good leader should be like a lighthouse—steady, strong, guiding in the storm.
Instead, we get billboards screaming in neon lights, paid for by the highest bidder. How can the people’s voice be heard over the roar of a thousand-dollar microphone?
Encourage critical thinking
A man votes the way he falls in love—fast, blind, reckless. He hears a slogan that tugs his heartstrings, and suddenly, he’s made up his mind.
But hearts are tricksters. They beat loudest for the things that make us feel, not the things that keep us safe.
If we chose our doctors the way we choose our leaders, we’d all be on leeches and miracle tonics.
Hold leaders accountable
Power is a funny thing. It should be a contract, but too often, it turns into a throne. A man wins an election and suddenly he’s untouchable, like a king crowned by applause.
But a title means nothing if the hands that hold it are unsteady. A leader should stand or fall by their choices, not their charm.
Plato wasn’t against the people having a say. He just thought they should know what they were talking about first.
And maybe he was right. Maybe democracy isn’t broken, just bruised. Maybe it’s not the ship that’s sinking, just the hands at the helm.
Maybe, if we were wiser, if we were braver, if we demanded better—this old boat could still find its way to shore.
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