Of Bumblebees, Hummingbirds & Governance

Consent of the Governed

Consent of the Governed

I have thought about this a lot of late. I am uncertain whether others do the same. In particular, I am unconvinced that those who seek and secure elected office in America still have a robust understanding of this fundamental civic principle.

This concept is more than just who we voted for in the last election. Our choice, my choice, to participate in the American electoral process and in civic life is not purely transactional. There is, and there must always be in any democracy, an element of consent by the voters — the electors — given freely to those who are elected to represent us and by extension those that they appoint and hire to work in government as well.

Elections, and more importantly governance, are not simply an electoral arbitrage — this many votes equals decision-making power. No, for me at least, governance requires a sharing of civic authority — a flow of consent from the governed… the people… to those governing. And that borrowed-for-a-time consent of the governed must, by its very nature, be held sacrosanct by those that hope to wield that consent and practice governance.

Why sacrosanct? Because the consent of the governed is not a thing of brick and mortar. It is not a permanent, but rather a seasonal thing, delicate, carried on the air by gossamer wings.

Most days in our little part of The Sunset, I watch the Bombus californicus or California Bumblebee flit from flower to flower in our backyard. Also, there is a hummingbird that visits me every day, resting in the uppermost branch of a small tree in our neighbor’s backyard where she watches me and I her until she moves on with her day.

She cares nothing about governance and the consent of the governed. She cares nothing about my consent. She does not ask for it nor does she care about whether or not I give it. In fairness, she does not care about consent from our neighbors either and her tree lives in their backyard.

That hummingbird (and the bumblebees as well) exercises no governance over me. Nor do I attempt to govern her. She is free. And so am I, after a fashion. This is her home just as much as it is mine. I enjoy her company each day and, I daresay, she enjoys mine a little too. She comes back every day to the same branch on the same tree and looks at me and I at her. And then she flits away but I know, in my heart, she will return again tomorrow.

There is, however, another way in which the hummingbird and bumblebees remind me of the threatened nature of the consent of the governed in our country and communities. The manner in which, in these times, elected officials and those seeking public office come into our lives and communities and then flit off to City Hall, Sacramento, Des Moines or Washington DC so quickly and effortlessly reminds me of the little hummingbird’s daily departure. The difference though is in the fact that after Election Day they rarely return.

Moreover, it would do us all good to remember that the hummingbird and the bumblebee ask nothing of me or from me. But those that hope to govern do. Oh, most certainly they do. They borrow my consent to be governed. And they borrow yours too. Whether or not you vote for the electoral victor, our collective participation in the electoral process lends our consent — our civic imprimatur — to those who secure election to local, state or federal office, including but not limited to the Office of the President.

I recognize that this essay seems a bit philosophical. But I seek to make an important point, one that has lodged in my mind for many months. What is our recourse when elected officials betray the consent of the electors, whether they voted for them or not? Perhaps especially when they did not vote for them.

It is an uncomfortable civic concept for most of us. Participation in civic life and in elections does require a sharing of civic authority, a flow of consent from the governed — the people — to those who win elections and ultimately perform the duties of governance.

Many people write and speak of resistance or “The Resistance” to, for example, the sitting President — Donald Trump. MAGA Republicans voiced similar resistance and oppositional themes to President Joe Biden during the previous administration. I admire the courage and principle behind the sentiment, when either is present. However, political cynicism and a dogmatic approach in the execution of such political resistance most often render it, at least in my opinion, moot.

In most cases and most places in this country there is simply no true recourse, no available pathway to remove oneself from civic life or more accurately to withdraw or reclaim one’s consent to governance after an election. Is there value in resisting corruption or, say, fascism in government? Yes, of course there is, through continued participation in local, state and federal elections; through litigation; through “petitioning” or calling upon the government for redress of grievances as protected by that pesky First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution; and through peaceful protest, which if you ask me is the same as petitioning the government for redress of grievances.

That is my argument about hummingbirds, bumblebees and the consent of the governed. It often feels quite frustrating to me, but I have come to see it is important to recognize the limitations placed upon us in America’s democratic experiment.

And tomorrow, or perhaps Saturday, I will post another essay about the places in America where people are granted direct democratic access to governance through initiative, referendum and recall. Trust me when I say that topic can lift your spirits and give you back some hope that this essay might have taken away. Happy Independence Day everyone!

john