A fortnight ago in this column I pointed to two kinds of democracy: of form and of substance. I noted that the former distorts the true aspirations of its intended beneficiaries, that it ultimately undermines the emergence of the latter; and crucially, the drive towards the democracy of form over that of substance raises questions – policy and moral – about the entire "democracy promotion” project.

The subject of democracy is very sensitive. That is because, as I pointed out last week, it is ultimately a discussion about, and a struggle for the supremacy of, values.

However, it should neither be sensitive nor controversial to observe that the objective of democracy – however way it is defined – is to deliver "the good life” for a particular constituency or society.

Now, if that takes care of the basics, then the battleground shifts to the elements that ought to constitute "the good life.” Here’s the stage at which sensitivities must come in because the discussion becomes about choices – never value neutral by definition – that are, by their very nature, ideological and, therefore, political.

Put differently, once the basics – the overriding objective of democracy – are taken care of, there is very little left in terms of universal values. What is left is almost entirely a discourse on political/ideological values or preferences.

Therefore, the real battleground is in what should be included in the definition of "the good life.” Who should define this and why? Who determine what the good life is? If the constituent elements of "the good life” are universal, what determines their hierarchy of importance?

The answers to these questions have serious consequences for the development of democracy – and development – in any society. Let us consider a "real-life” example about the politics of the belly.

Most of us go frequent our local produce (food) market. Once we get there we are given a sack in which to pick, place, and add food items of our choice. Or –for our latte drinking class – the grocery cart at any Nakumatt of your choice.

What do we place in the cart and why? What if a stranger came and insisted on adding something to your cart? It may be something good for you, like a piece of fruit; but it could also be a pack of cigarette. You get the point.

Moreover, you always wish you could add a couple more things into the cart. And there are times you have included items in the cart that you know that are not good for your health, things you wish you could do without.

Democracy is never perfect. The primary reason for this is that human beings, by nature, conceive "the good life” in elastic terms. Which is why democracy – anywhere in the world – is, and shall remain, a work in progress. It is about citizens grappling with choices that lead to the expansion of "the good life.”

Or, what to include or remove from the grocery cart. It is by grappling with shifting conceptions of the good life that democracy becomes meaningful in people’s lives, and why it is ultimately worthy of pursuit. Indeed, when it is a result of this grappling, people choose to live with the consequences of what they decide to add or to remove from that grocery cart, and why they protect the right to decide what goes in and out of the cart.

This exercise – the grappling with choices – cannot be outsourced. And when it is, then the search for the "good life” is abandoned. The result is an outcome with little meaning in people’s lives, a product they are unwilling to put their lives on the line for, in its defence.

Let us remove the bias

The discourse on democracy (and development) in poor socioeconomic contexts –like much of Africa, for instance – is often biased in favour of minorities in urban settings, at the expense of the "silent majority” in small towns and villages.

The latter rarely get a say in what goes in the grocery basket. Indeed, few of us will ask our house-help (houseboy/girl, to be specific) what they would like to see in the basket.

Should we wonder when people resort to selling their vote for a few shillings or to exchanging it for a kilo of sugar or salt? Or should we wonder when our house-help take out their frustrations on us or the people we love? Isn’t it because we have showed them that we don’t love them.

I plead with you, dear reader, to focus on the message, not the messenger. I’m simply trying to drive home the point that a democracy that considers the majority of its would-be beneficiaries house-help surely cannot stand the test of time, and shouldn’t’ be the kind that a healthy society aspires for.

It follows, therefore, that for a democracy to have real meaning in the lives of the people – substance – its discourse and practice must be wrestled away from distortions that undermine their dignity and redirect it towards informing their genuine aspirations for "the good life.”