Front Porch Democracy: the future of our nation might depend on your next conversation
By Jennifer Haase Morris
Last year, I had the privilege of joining a group of high school teachers for a conversation with Dennis Rasmussen, author of The Constitution’s Penman. The book centers on Gouverneur Morris—one of the Constitution’s original authors— who feared a system where the rich would wield power unchecked and where democratic principles could be twisted to entrench privilege. He believed the Constitution was not self-executing. It required active, ethical participation and a vigilant public to keep it true to its promise.
Today, that warning feels more relevant than ever. Constitutional scholar Leah Litman and others warn that today’s greatest threats to democracy take the form of quiet legal erosion, where rights are curtailed and democratic norms are undermined, often by the very courts meant to protect them. Litman describes how judicial decisions increasingly enable minority rule under the guise of neutrality—especially on issues like voting rights, reproductive freedom and federal oversight.
This isn’t new. It’s what Morris feared: a small, well-funded group of elites and ideologues increasingly controls the conversation—through gerrymandering, voter suppression and judicial decisions that strip away public power. And too often these shifts happen quietly—beneath the radar of national headlines, but right in front of our noses.
So, this month, here on Whidbey Island, we join the collective voices of others across the country as we are marching in protest, we affirm our belief in the protections for the LGBTQIA+ community through the Pride events across the island, and we honor the racial justice work still to be done on Juneteenth.
Because local action isn’t symbolic—it’s strategic. It’s where democracy either erodes or strengthens.
Just recently, I spoke with a local mom whose daughter identifies as queer who no longer feels safe at school. The shift in tone at the national level created tension within their community, and they now feel uncertain about which friends to trust. In another conversation, a teacher shared her frustration at the lack of accountability when a colleague displayed religious materials in her classroom—an act that violated church-state boundaries.
These moments matter. They remind us that protecting democracy doesn’t always look like a large group rally or protest. Sometimes, it looks like showing up to school board meetings, standing up for what’s right, casting your vote in an off-year local election, or simply having a conversation with a neighbor.
As Democrats, many of us take heart in living in a blue trifecta state where the governorship and both legislative chambers are led by people who share our values. And we’re grateful for leaders like our Attorney General, whose team is working to hold the current administration accountable.
But pride and comfort are not the same as complacency.
Election season is coming. And with it, an opportunity—and responsibility—to stay awake to what’s happening around us. Because democracy isn’t just about institutions. It’s about relationships. It’s about building enough trust in our communities to disagree without disengaging.
Front porch democracy means fighting for justice and asking a neighbor how they’re really doing. It means defending public education and being willing to sit on the porch with someone who doesn’t see things the way you do. It’s hard work. It’s human work. And it just might be the only thing that holds this democratic experiment together.