How do we understand social movements as a part of democracy? In Why Democracy Is Oppositional, John Medearis offers a theory of democracy that explicitly accounts for social movement activity as, he argues, previous democratic theories have failed to do. According to the author, understanding social movements has been a struggle for democratic theorists—many of whom, such as John Stuart Mill, were clearly inspired by them.

In general, Medearis argues, democratic theorists have produced unsatisfying accounts of the place of movements in democracy, either because they argue that at least some movement activity is not essential (and possibly antithetical) to democracy, or because they distort the meaning of movement activity to fit their own conceptualizations of democracy “in ways that their actual participants would hardly recognize” (p. 16)

The author’s solution, then, is a theory that elides the distinction between ideal and “non-ideal” theories of democracy—arguing for an understanding of democracy that very much centers on process, or what he calls “action.” Because oppositional activity undertaken by the public is at the heart of his theory, and because he allows for the possibility that such activity can be coercive and still be democratic, this work stands in contrast to both elite and deliberative theories of democracy. This potential for oppositional activity to be coercive is one example of the broader theme in Medearis’s theory, which is the serious consideration of power dynamics, so often missing from theories of democracy.

The book begins with a discussion of major traditions of democratic theory and their inability to grapple with movement activities—particularly among theories that rest on the need for certain idealized relationships between citizens to communicate and/or make decisions. In general, theorizing about movements has been accepted as more appropriate for nonideal understandings of democracy, reinforcing the notion that pure forms of democracy would not require social movements. All of this discussion culminates with the idea that power should be a central consideration to fully incorporate movements into democratic theory and move away from the ideal/nonideal framework.

Medearis then introduces one of the major concepts of his dialectical approach to democracy: alienation. While offering some discussion of the usual suspects associated with alienation (Hegel and Karl Marx), much more of this treatment of alienation focuses on the work of John Dewey. Dewey’s work has typically been situated in the deliberative tradition of democracy theory. The author contends, however, that Dewey’s democratic theory was as much about action as deliberation, and offers insights into the concept of alienation. Here, alienation is characterized as a phenomenon whereby public action produces consequences from which the public becomes disconnected; these consequences are experienced as impersonal forces to which the public is subject.

The book goes on to unpack the process of alienation in order to explicitly incorporate power, drawing on the example of the financial crisis of the mid-2000s, and on an extended discussion of markets and market forces. This recent historical period is an example of “the condition that exists when their common action returns to people in the form of social forces, relations, or institutions that dominate some or all of them and enable some people to oppress or exploit others” (pp. 90–91). There are two key points in this definition. The first is that objectification—the process by which people come to see the societal consequences of their actions as something distinct from those actions—is not inherently negative. One could understand social norms, some of which can be quite positive, through this process of objectification. The second point is that the opportunities for oppression and exploitation, which are opened up with objectification, are what actually produce alienation, and that the extent to which individuals experience such exploitation or oppression will depend on power dynamics in society.

Having fully fleshed out the first of the two opposing forces necessary for a dialectical theory, Medearis turns to the democratic heart of his theory: oppositional action. This is “action directed toward collectively managing crucial institutions, social relations, and forces in a way that strives for equality of power, while also combatting domination and reducing opportunities for oppression and exploitation” (p. 132). Such actions, he argues, can include coercive behaviors, though not all oppositional activity should be understood as democratic, and certainly violence that violates basic democratic principals of individual rights should not be understood as democratic. It is in these oppositional movement activities that we find democracy—not in the changes that may result, for Medearis is very clear that his theory does not strive to identify a set of circumstances that moves beyond this dialectical tension. Rather, anywhere that individuals organize to resist oppression is where we find democracy.

The book concludes by applying this theory to discussions of the welfare state. Medearis continues a central focus on economic forces, but also includes a particularly insightful discussion of the ways that the welfare state has differentially affected women and minorities. Finally, his epilogue offers a discussion of the contemporary security state post-9/11 through the lens of his democratic theory.

It is definitely Medaris’s theory of democratic opposition activity that poses the biggest challenge to scholars who produce theories or empirical research on the subject of democracy, though not, I would argue, for its endorsement of coercive forms of action as potentially democratic. Rather, it is the characterization of the goals of oppositional activity, which are essential to characterizing any given case of oppositional activity as democratic or not—equality, combating domination, reducing oppression and exploitation—that feel the slipperiest.

This characterization raises the question: Who gets to decide whether oppositional activity is working toward these goals? Often this will be the stated goals of movement activity, and there may be good reason to believe that activists are sincere in those goals. Yet the same movement activity is likely to be characterized differently by those who are benefiting from the exploitation and oppression of others. It is from individuals in those positions that we get such concepts as “tyranny of the majority,” “class warfare,” and “reverse discrimination.” Furthermore, the possibility for such actions to include coercion raises the stakes associated with labeling a movement democratic. It is perhaps essential that the democratic goals of a movement be very clear in order to justify the use of coercive practices. Yet with the potential for alternative characterizations of movement activity to be antithetical to democracy, coercive action may be seen as further underscoring the decidedly undemocratic nature of the movement.

The way that scholars in comparative politics have dealt with the democratic import of movements is to trace the social and political changes they have wrought, and to infer in hindsight the extent to which such oppositional activity can be characterized as democratic. This approach is best exemplified by the work of Charles Tilly, who characterizes contentious collective action as democratizing when it increases opportunities for individuals to engage in greater degrees of “protected consultation” (what Medearis identifies as that darling of deliberative democratic theory). But here we have a theory that puts the process itself at the center of what it means to be democratic, and so we cannot look to outcomes to provide some objective assessment of the extent to which movements are promoting equality or combating oppression.

Here then, I would submit, Medearis stops short in his integration of power into his democratic theory, because ultimately who decides which movements “deserve democratic approval” (p. 4) is likely to come down to a question of who has the power to interpret the nature of oppositional movements. From what perspective will we confer the “democratic approval” that these actions may or may not deserve? Will those positions not necessarily be determined by our own situation within systems of domination and oppression?

While we can continue to grapple with this central question of the democratic nature of oppositional activity, this theory offers exciting conceptual extensions for research on democracy in comparative politics. The focus on oppositional movement activity offers new opportunities for characterizing democracy around the world distinct from favored measures like alternations in elite power, or certain constitutional guarantees. In an era when most countries around the world have adopted at least some veneer of democratic institutions, the notion of locating our understanding of democracy in oppositional activity may be particularly useful.

This focus on oppositional action also suggests a move away from regime typologies and county/year measures of whether countries are or are not democratic. Instead, it calls for a reconceptualization of our units of analysis, and potentially suggests much more fluid assessments of democracy and democratization over time. Such a shift may indeed be feasible with innovations in machine coding and collection of events data.

This oppositional theory of democracy also suggests interesting applications for comparativists concerned with civil conflict and regime stability. While it advocates for the acceptance of a certain level of contentious political action within any country we are to call democratic, it also suggests clear limitations on that characterization, such that periods of democratic opposition should be distinguishable from periods of regime collapse and civil war—though perhaps not in all cases.