“The importance of the ordinary citizen is very greatly underrated—not so much by those in authority as by the ordinary citizen himself.” — Jan Struther, 1942
On this Election Day in the United States, it’s worth reflecting on the words of E.B. White.
White was a longtime contributing editor to The New Yorker, and in 1943 he wrote this unsigned piece for the magazine’s Notes and Comment section. The United States was engaged in World War II, still more than half a year away from D-Day.
The country had recently emerged from the Great Depression and Roosevelt’s New Deal, comprised of so many public works and infrastructure projects, had just begun to take hold as the war began.
It is in that context that White wrote “The Meaning of Democracy.”
We received a letter from the Writers’ War Board the other day asking for a statement on “The Meaning of Democracy.” It presumably is our duty to comply with such a re-quest, and it is certainly our pleasure.
Surely the board knows what democracy is. It is the line that forms on the right. It is the don’t in don’t shove. It is the hole in the stuffed shirt through which the sawdust slowly trickles; it is the dent in the high hat.
Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half of the time. It is the feeling of privacy in the voting booths, the feeling of communion in the libraries, the feeling of vitality everywhere. Democracy is a letter to the editor. Democracy is the score at the beginning of the ninth. It is an idea which hasn’t been disproved yet, a song the words of which have not gone bad. It’s the mustard on the hot dog and the cream in the rationed coffee.
Democracy is a request from a war board, in the middle of a morning in the middle of a war, wanting to know what democracy is.
According to Robert E. Sherwood, speechwriter for President Roosevelt, when the president read White’s piece, he said, “I love it!” He loved it enough to keep it with him, Sherwood wrote.
“Roosevelt read White’s definition of democracy to various gatherings, adding to it: ‘Them’s my sentiments exactly.’”
Also around that same time — in 1945, to be exact — Albert Maltz wrote a short 10-minute film called The House I Live In starring Frank Sinatra. It was an effort to combat the rampant anti-Semitism that had grown in the country.
It was named after and featured a song that had originally appeared in Broadway’s Let Freedom Sing in 1942. The lyrics are powerful and timeless, and pack a punch whether you just read them or watch or listen to Sinatra’s performance.
What is America to me
A name, a map, or a flag I see
A certain word, democracy
What is America to meThe house I live in
A plot of earth, a street
The grocer and the butcher
And the people that I meetThe children in the playground
The faces that I see
All races and religions
That’s America to meThe place I work in
The worker at my side
The little town, the city
Where my people lived and diedThe howdy and the handshake
The air of feeling free
And the right to speak my mind out
That's America to meThe things I see about me
The big things and the small
The little corner newsstand
And the house a mile tallThe wedding and the churchyard
The laughter and the tears
The dream that’s been growing
For a hundred and fifty yearsThe town I live in
The street, the house, the room
The pavement of the city
Or the garden all in bloomThe church the school the clubhouse
The millions lights I see
But especially the people
That’s America to me
What strikes me about all of these interpretations and comparisons of democracy is this: they all reflect the idea that together we are stronger.
Leadership means guiding people to work together to accomplish a common vision. We are stronger together, smarter together, more successful together.
In times of war and times of peace, in moments of crisis and eras of achievement, and in exciting days of celebration and the mundane weeks of drudgery, we can do more together.
In service to others and with others, we can dream more, do more, learn more, and become more.
There’s so much to learn,
Great piece, especially today, Scott. I found a copy of EB White's "On Democracy" in the used stacks at my local library, and it now is front and center in my own library. As I've said elsewhere, we combine metals to make alloys in order to create something stronger than the pure metals with which we start. Freedom means living well together -- which starts with working together on common challenges.
Reading this helps. Thank you, Scott.