A s readers of this journal know so well, few eras have been as pivotal for American democracy as the present. After years of petty political strafing, partisan gerrymandering, the bipartisan embrace of Big Money, deluges of disinformation, and the bulldozing of democratic norms and standards, our nation finds itself at a crossroads that few of us could have imagined even a decade ago.

America’s authoritarian adversaries not only relish our struggles but compound them through ceaseless online campaigns that aim to widen divisions and sow doubt about the integrity of our elections and the resilience and agility of our governing institutions. Russia and China, once seen as containable competitors, have rapidly formed a powerful anti-Western alliance that they’re actively recruiting others into. While some Eastern European countries seem to be reconsolidating their democracies, like Poland, others have slipped away, like Hungary. And tensions around immigration and neoliberal economic policies will continue to fuel right-wing populists and nationalists both abroad and at home. None of these trends bode well for the future of democracy.

“Yeah, sure, I get it,” you might be thinking, “but given how broken democracy is, what can we do to fix it?” It’s a popular, ironic twist of a thought, akin to: “Yeah, the building is burning, and people are dying inside, but the bolts on the fire hydrants have swollen stuck from all the heat, so just let it burn.”

We can no longer afford such rationalized cynicism. But overcoming it will take the kind of hard, long-term relationship-building that too many politicians and democracy advocates are no longer adept at: It will require forging new bipartisan collaborations, at both the state and federal levels.

Why Bipartisanship?

Yes, bipartisanship. We need to discuss bipartisanship. The thought of it triggers a gag reflex for many people who make their living in politics. The grassroots left sees the right as authoritarians and racists, and the grassroots right sees the left as socialists and America haters. The same is not true, however, of most members of Congress. Not that Capitol Hill is a copacetic commune. Far from it. But plenty of members of Congress are capable of seeing beyond differences for the sake of legislating, and those that do such bipartisan legislating deserve to be more thoroughly embraced and celebrated for reasons that are, first, strategic; second, principled; and third, philosophical.

First, strategy. At the federal level, the Senate remains a chamber where 60 votes are necessary to pass any bill that doesn’t qualify for the reconciliation process—meaning anything other than spending or tax measures. When it comes to democracy-related legislation, that supermajority threshold has to be taken seriously. Bypassing it has proved to be impossible. When Democrats brought up the Freedom to Vote Act in 2021—an everything-including-the-kitchen-sink bill—they told their allies and the press that they would try to line up every Democratic senator to amend Senate rules and torpedo the filibuster to get the bill passed. In the meantime, Senators Joe Manchin of West Virginia and Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona were signaling to their allies and the press that they had no intention of doing so. After months of wrangling, the bill passed the House on a party-line vote and then died in the Senate.

The argument that many Democrats made at the time was that there was no value in negotiating a bill with the Republicans because such a bill would have ended up being whittled down to nothing. While that argument might be valid, it’s also conjectural—because there was never a significant attempt to craft a bill with any Republicans, it’s hard to know what could have resulted if there had been an entirely different process from the jump. For instance, when the Freedom to Vote Act was taking shape in the House in 2019, Representative Brian Fitzpatrick, a moderate Republican from Pennsylvania, was so frustrated by the partisanship surrounding the bill that he constructed his own—called the Nonpartisan Bill for the People Act—containing many of the Freedom to Vote Act’s critical provisions, from ending gerrymandering to reducing the influence of “dark money” in elections.

Also under the rubric of strategy: Any progressive activist or Democrat banking on purely partisan strategies has to account for the stark fact that the Democrats have had “trifectas” in Washington (simultaneous control of the House, Senate, and White House) for a mere six years since Ronald Reagan was elected—the first two years of Bill Clinton’s presidency, the first two years of Barack Obama’s, and the first two years of Joe Biden’s. That’s it: six out of 43 years. The likelihood of Democrats achieving a trifecta in the next decade is slim and, even if they do, passing a democracy bill (or bills) would still require the Democrats either controlling 60 Senate seats or bypassing the filibuster.

Out of frustration with the difficulty of passing partisan bills at the federal level, some turn to the states. But Democrats have trifectas in a mere 17 states; meanwhile, Republicans have trifectas in 23, and the remaining states have politically divided governments. And even in Democratic states, progress can be fleeting, or things can go backward, as we have seen in recent years with gerrymandered district maps in New York and Maryland drawn to benefit Democrats and unfairly disenfranchise Republicans. The judge who struck down Maryland’s skewed map in 2022—a judge who was once appointed to the court of appeals by a Democratic governor—said when she did, “It is extraordinarily unlikely that a map that looks like the 2021 Plan could be produced without extreme partisan gerrymandering.” Democratic lawmakers in blue states will argue that their gerrymanders are simply a reaction to years of successful Republican gerrymanders in red states. But the twisted logic of two wrongs making a right shouldn’t be how we shape governing institutions.

Then there are those working at the state level who hope to avoid the legislatures entirely and achieve democracy reform through the initiative-and-referendum process instead. A similar problem awaits them. About half the states—26—have such processes. Of those, 13 legislatures are currently controlled by Republican trifectas, ten are controlled by Democratic trifectas, and the rest have divided state governments. Sometimes, ballot measures are successful, like the one to establish an independent redistricting commission in Michigan in 2018 that garnered 61 percent of the vote. But sometimes they aren’t: In Massachusetts, a state in which ballots cast for Biden outnumbered those for Trump two to one, 55 percent of voters shot down a ranked-choice voting measure in 2020. And sometimes, even winning at the ballot box doesn’t guarantee victory. For nearly every effort to create open primaries or ranked-choice voting systems, there exists a countereffort to make sure it doesn’t happen, or to repeal it if it does. This year in Alaska, the advocates who successfully used the ballot initiative process in 2020 to create a nonpartisan primary system—one that then helped Republican Senator Lisa Murkowski win reelection in 2022—will likely spend millions trying to defend that system from a ballot initiative effort aimed at dismantling it.

Second, the non-strategic, more principled reason for bipartisanship is that, while bipartisan legislating is arduous, such approaches to governance have historically proven more durable and effective than measures passed on party-line votes. By incorporating diverse perspectives and fostering compromise, bipartisan bills can navigate the complexities of policy challenges with greater legitimacy and resilience. Moreover, they reflect a commitment to governance that transcends short-term partisan interests, aiming instead at the long-term health and stability of the nation. That’s the case with the Help America Vote Act, which was introduced in the House in November 2001 with significant bipartisan support and was signed into law by President Bush 11 months later. It’s similarly the case with the Electoral Count Reform Act, which my group, Issue One, helped shepherd into law in 2022. The process of constructing that bill was devoutly bipartisan from the get-go and remained bipartisan throughout its journey on Capitol Hill. As a result, the bill ended up garnering the support of a politically broad group of senators, from conservative Republicans like John Thune to moderates like Republican Susan Collins and Democrat Joe Manchin to liberal Democrats like Dianne Feinstein.

Third, on a more philosophical level, maintenance of our democratic republic should not be the exclusive purview of any single party, but a shared responsibility that binds Americans together. While Republicans have often been portrayed as obstacles to democracy reform, it is crucial to acknowledge historical context. Over the past three decades, conversations around democracy reform have largely been monopolized by Democrats and left-leaning advocates, who have framed Republicans as adversaries. This exclusion of an entire party from meaningful dialogue on democratic governance has contributed to partisan polarization and hindered progress.

After founding my democracy organization more than ten years ago, I visited then-Representative Charlie Dent on Capitol Hill. Charlie was then, and still is, a principled, moderate Republican from Allentown, Pennsylvania. About five minutes into my conversation with him he raised his hand in the air, making a stopping motion. “Where have you guys been?” he asked me. “Well, I was at the office before this meeting, congressman,” I replied. “No,” he clarified, “where have you been for so long? No one’s bothered to talk with me about democracy issues in a long time.” When democracy advocates stop actively recruiting—and writing bills with—members of Congress like Charlie Dent, they’re not just leaving votes on the table. They’re failing to develop and nurture the narrative we need: that maintaining a democratic republic is something we all should do together.

Think of a soccer field: Both competing teams have an interest in maintaining the quality of the field, and both teams have to play on both sides of the field. There are plenty of things the two parties should be fighting about—from gun control to taxation and so much more—but the importance of maintaining and respecting the basic systems of our democracy should not be disputed. This notion of bipartisanship on behalf of American democracy will seem too naive to some—one group, they will argue, has been relentlessly rigging the rules to try to achieve an electoral advantage. But that’s because the naysayers see bipartisanship as merely a notion. It’s not. Routine bipartisan action on behalf of democracy is an expectation that we all need to articulate and then ceaselessly reiterate. That’s how change occurs over the long run: You have to change the narrative and set expectations about who should participate in a certain activity and why they should.

American history contains many moments of bipartisan unity in defense of democracy that underscore the potential for cooperation across party lines. During World War II, Republican and Democratic leaders rallied behind President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s leadership, setting aside partisan differences to confront global authoritarianism. The bipartisan efforts to rebuild Europe under the Marshall Plan and establish NATO showcased America’s commitment to defending democratic values against totalitarian threats.

Similarly, throughout the Cold War, Republicans and Democrats united in opposition to Soviet expansionism and communist ideology. Landmark bipartisan votes to pass the Truman Doctrine and ratify the United Nations Charter exemplified America’s bipartisan consensus on promoting democracy and human rights globally. In 2002, Republicans and Democrats came together to pass the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act. Known as the McCain-Feingold bill, it clamped down on unlimited contributions to political parties. While the impact of McCain-Feingold has been heavily debated ever since it passed—some claim it simply sent Big Money away from the parties and to outside groups, disempowering the parties in the process—it’s core principle of reducing the corrupting influence of money in Washington was one that enough Republicans and Democrats were able to align on at the time. More recently, the aforementioned Electoral Count Reform Act, supported by a broad bipartisan coalition in both the House and Senate, reaffirmed that elections are decided by the people, not politicians. It will safeguard against future efforts to overturn the result of a free and fair election, such as those the world witnessed in the aftermath of the contentious 2020 presidential election.

Bipartisan Opportunities Exist

While the political terrain on the Hill is more jagged than ever, concrete opportunities for bipartisan cooperation in Congress do exist. Key areas for reform to strengthen American democracy include:

1. Creating First-Class Election Infrastructure: Investing in secure and accessible voting systems to ensure that all citizens can exercise their right to vote without impediment or suspicion of fraud.
2. Making Social Media Accountable: Instituting responsible safeguards that prioritize our health and well-being over advertising revenue, and reforming Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act to hold social media companies accountable for misinformation and hate speech while safeguarding free expression.
3. Congressional Reforms: Taking action to reduce polarization and gridlock in Congress, such as by enhancing transparency in legislative processes and enacting a raft of measures that would improve staff retention and promote problem-solving on Capitol Hill.
4. Civic Education and Digital Literacy: Promoting comprehensive civic education programs that equip citizens with the knowledge and skills to engage meaningfully in democratic processes, including understanding digital media and its impact on public discourse.

These ideas won’t create a radically different democracy overnight, and they don’t fit the classic definition of “democracy reform” in the way that policies about campaign finance, gerrymandering, and ranked-choice voting do.

But each of these areas highlights meaningful—and immediate—federal opportunities. Republicans and Democrats can demonstrate their commitment to strengthening democratic institutions and helping citizens develop the habits that make a highly pluralistic society—the most diverse experiment in democracy ever attempted—work.

Philanthropy Can Make or Break the Moment

But such stewardship will require much more significant annual investments in the work of democracy by America’s philanthropists. The groups willing to do this hard bipartisan work need the funding to generate and then maintain the stewardship. Nonprofit organizations dedicated to democracy promotion and reform are typically drastically underfunded, especially when compared to other sectors, like health care, education, the arts, and conservation. Philanthropic contributions play a crucial role in sustaining their operations and initiatives, from public education about the imperative to support democracy, to advocacy for bills, to grassroots organizing, to voter engagement.

I and my peers often wonder at the resources we see in other philanthropy-supported sectors. Of the $557 billion donated to nonprofits in America last year, only a tiny portion—less than 1 percent—went to democracy groups. Ours is perhaps the least funded essential sector in the nonprofit world. Comparisons to other sectors are striking. Four of the largest environmental groups in America—the Sierra Club, the Nature Conservancy, the Environmental Defense Fund, and the Natural Resources Defense Council—together spend about $2 billion a year. Four of the largest democracy groups in America—the Brennan Center for Justice, Common Cause, Protect Democracy, and Public Citizen—spend about $100 million a year. In the nation that is the torchbearer of modern democracy, that has to change. If it doesn’t, progress will continue to be slow.

The road to a stronger democracy is fraught with challenges, particularly in navigating the complexities of bipartisanship. Political divisions, entrenched interests, and competing visions of governance pose formidable obstacles to meaningful reform. Yet there literally is no other choice but to face those challenges head on, and daily. The alternative—allowing authoritarian regimes abroad and authoritarians at home to erode democratic norms and values—would jeopardize America’s future as both a democracy and a capitalist superpower. It’s a hard road, but one we have to travel if we are to secure our republic’s future.