The Signal and the Noise
For several years, many of us have struggled with how to think about the accumulating threats to our democratic institutions. How do we process the daily torrent without becoming either numb, hysterical, or just depressed?
History provides perspective. In 1776, Thomas Paine addressed this very problem. In response to the growing complacency of his fellow colonists, he wrote Common Sense. In it he warned: “A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right.”
This is what worries me today. Numbness lets things normalize. Hysteria and depression risk burning us out when we need to stay engaged. Inevitably, the outrageous assumes a “superficial appearance of being right.”
My goal today is to help make some sense of it. To suggest a way to think about it. To create a framework for identifying what matters, the Signal, from what is just Noise, and to introduce a simple tool (The Ledger) for making sure we don’t forget either one.
This is a 7-minute read. Prefer an outline? Click here.
First, we have been here before – and survived
Tensions over our Constitution began before the ink was dry. The founders themselves disagreed, often bitterly, about the nature of the government they had just created. Hamilton believed in a strong federal government while Jefferson and Madison believed that was a blueprint for tyranny. These disagreements produced genuine constitutional crises, not just academic debates.
The Alien and Sedition Acts (1798). One of the first came when President Adams signed four laws making it a federal crime to criticize the government or the president. Newspaper editors were jailed. Jefferson called the acts unconstitutional and authored the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions asserting that states could nullify federal law that they deemed unconstitutional.
FDR and the court-packing plan (1937). President Roosevelt issued over 3,000 executive orders, often overstepping his constitutional authority. Frustrated by the Supreme Court’s opposition, he proposed expanding the Court and filling it with loyalists, a direct attempt to subordinate the judiciary to the executive. A bipartisan Congress stopped him.
The Gulf of Tonkin and Cambodia (1964–1973). President Johnson used a misrepresented naval incident to obtain congressional authorization for the Vietnam War. President Nixon then secretly bombed Cambodia, concealing it from Congress for over a year. Congress responded with the War Powers Resolution of 1973.
The Pentagon Papers (1971). Daniel Ellsberg leaked a classified study showing that the Johnson and Kennedy administrations had lied to Congress about Vietnam. Nixon attempted to block the New York Times and Washington Post from publishing. The Supreme Court ruled against him. Both the press and the courts did their jobs.
Watergate (1972–1974). Nixon ordered illegal surveillance of political enemies and authorized the break-in at Democratic Party headquarters. He was brought down by a bipartisan Senate investigation and a Supreme Court ruling requiring him to release the tapes.
In each of these cases, democracy did not simply save itself. Nor in fact did the public at large play a significant role. It was our institutions - Congress and the courts - that held the line.
The Constitution alone is not enough
How Democracies Die, by Harvard professors Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, is a book every American who cares about this country should read, and one I have returned to many times over the last several years. The authors provide a framework that is helpful to making sense of what is happening around us.
Based on careers studying how democracies collapsed in Europe and Latin America, their conclusion challenges the comfortable assumption that our Constitution alone will protect us. Constitutions simply are not self-enforcing, they argue. Between the lines of any constitution are opportunities for legal, but damaging, behavior. What actually holds democracies together are unwritten norms that people voluntarily observe.
Two norms democracies require
The first is mutual toleration - the shared understanding that political opponents are legitimate rivals, not enemies. Both sides play by the rules and accept the other’s right to compete, win, and govern. When that breaks down, the temptation to abandon the rules to prevent the other side from winning becomes overwhelming.
The second is institutional forbearance - the idea that those in power should exercise restraint. Many actions are not technically illegal but are deeply corrosive. A president can fire prosecutors. A Senate majority can refuse to hold confirmation hearings. Parties can redraw districts between censuses. All legal. All destructive. Forbearance is the unwritten agreement not to do those things just because you can.
When both norms hold, democracy functions. When they erode, it doesn’t, regardless of what the Constitution says.
Four warning signs of autocratic behavior
Levitsky and Ziblatt also identify four markers of authoritarian behavior. Think of them as a checklist:
• Rejection or undermining of the democratic rules of the game
• Denial of the legitimacy of political opponents
• Toleration or encouragement of violence
• Efforts to curtail the civil liberties of opponents, including the press
Engaging in these behaviors is not simply making a policy or partisan distinction. They are different and we must keep this difference firmly in mind.
Why today’s threats are different
In each of the earlier crises, bipartisan or Supreme Court resistance held the line. Republicans joined Democrats to block FDR’s court-packing. Republican senators told Nixon he would be convicted, forcing his resignation. The Supreme Court ruled against Nixon on the Pentagon Papers and on the Watergate tapes.
Today, however, that bipartisan consensus is gone. The Republican Party has largely acquiesced to behavior that previous generations of Republicans would have rejected: endorsing tariffs imposed without congressional authorization, tolerating the politicization of the Justice Department, confirming cabinet members unfit for their roles, and accepting the impoundment of congressionally authorized spending.
The Supreme Court’s reliability is also in question. Its ruling on presidential immunity, its retreat from voting rights enforcement, its deference to executive authority in areas previously governed by independent law, its cynical reversal of Roe v. Wade after representing to Congress that it was settled law - these are not the actions of an institution acting as a check on power or respecting historical precedent.
The role of the people
Which may leave the people as the last line of defense. Levitsky and Ziblatt are not optimistic that public pressure alone can save a democracy, but it may be all we have. There are encouraging signs. The sustained pressure by citizens in Minneapolis in response to ICE abuses had a measurable impact on the administration’s behavior. The growing “No Kings” rallies suggest that awareness is translating into action.
Action will require organization. Organization will require an agreement of organizing principles. That will require separating the Signal from the Noise.
Separating the Signal from the Noise
The Noise is the daily torrent - statements, provocations, executive orders, undisciplined tweets, and outrages that dominate the news cycle and consume our energy. The liberal media and the Democratic Party have become addicted to it. We react, condemn, and express outrage. But does it move anyone who isn’t already moved? Or does it just contribute to the numbness Paine warned against - the slow habituation to things that should never become normal?
The Signal is something more specific. It is any action that erodes mutual toleration or institutional forbearance, or that matches one of Levitsky and Ziblatt’s four markers of authoritarian behavior. Use that as a screen. Not every outrage qualifies. But some do. Knowing the difference is what allows us to stay focused rather than fade in exhaustion.
The Ledger
My contribution to this effort is The Ledger - a documented record of each material challenge to our institutions, beginning with the first Trump administration. The case for it is simple: the media cycle is short, hysteria fades, and collective memory is unreliable. The Ledger is a counter to all three. The accumulation of events in one place is itself the argument. You can find it here.
Our greatest danger is not any single action. It is forgetting that it happened. That is what Paine understood. It is what The Ledger is for.
Postscript: One final reason all this matters
Democracy is not just a method of governing. It is also the foundation of our economic system. Freedom, rule of law, and dependable institutions are preconditions for a functioning market economy. Without them, commercial relationships erode. Investment suffers. Trade contracts.
The arbitrary use of tariffs, the harassment of private enterprise through selective prosecution, the pressure on the Federal Reserve’s independence - these are not just political offenses. They carry real economic costs and are direct threats to our standard of living. The political and the economic are not separate conversations.