In the popular imagination, a democracy dies when a group of angry plotters seizes control of a government building and announces that they are now in charge. That’s why images of the mob defiling the Capitol building on Jan. 6 still have such a visceral power in our memories even four years later.
But the attackers were not there that day to install themselves as senators and representatives or declare that they were now the country’s ruling junta. Instead, they were there specifically to stop the formal counting of the Electoral College votes.
This was not an attempted revolution, but rather the violent arm of a broader campaign to find a legal way to overturn an election.
As we commemorate that dark day, it’s important to be clear-eyed about what took place. This was not an attempted revolution — or even, in the words of those who wish to downplay it, a protest that got out of hand — but rather the violent arm of a broader campaign to find a legal way to overturn an election.
More than 1,000 Americans have been convicted for the violent attack, most of whom pleaded guilty to the charges. But they were just the most visible members of a group that included political strategists and advisers, lawyers and law professors, local election officials and state lawmakers, and, of course, the once-and-future president of the United States, Donald Trump.
The attack on the Capitol came about only because the campaign’s other efforts had failed. At key moments after the 2020 election, the decisions by members of the Wayne County election board in Detroit, the governor of Arizona, the top election official in Georgia, and the sitting vice president, as well as countless local election officials, state lawmakers and judges, to stand up to Trump’s relentless pressure campaign left stopping the certification by Congress — in part by force — as the last-ditch option.
As we consider the future of our country, then, it’s important to remember that a democracy can’t just fail in a bloody attack, but also in a governor’s mansion, a state capitol building, a quiet courtroom or the Senate floor. Democracy fails when people decide that norms are outdated, that laws are just suggestions and that words don’t have the same meaning any more. It fails, quite simply, when people stop caring about it. In 2020, the right people cared at the right moments.
Trump’s second term will inevitably test the guardrails of our democracy once again.
With Trump returning to office later this month despite his failed attempt to overturn an election, there are good reasons to be concerned. He has run a campaign predicated on retribution for perceived wrongs, chosen a man to lead the FBI who has made a list of roughly 60 political adversaries that he might go after, and repeatedly made disconcerting comments about running for a third term or being a dictator for a day. His second term will inevitably test the guardrails of our democracy once again.
But there are also reasons to be hopeful. Voter turnout in November was among the highest in the modern era, especially in the battleground states that decided the election. Whatever the wisdom of their choice, that’s a sign that Americans were engaged. Senate Republicans showed with their response to Trump’s first attorney general pick, controversial former Rep. Matt Gaetz, that they have at least one line they won’t cross, leading to his withdrawal. And while Trump won a second term after all, it may have been in spite of his election denial and not because of it. Election deniers who ran for important offices such as governor, secretary of state and attorney general, especially in the key states, lost almost across the board in 2022, and the subject largely disappeared as a campaign theme among Republican candidates in 2024. Even Trump has quieted down on his complaints about the nation’s elections since his win. Key lawyers in Trump’s effort to overturn the 2020 election, including Rudy Giuliani, John Eastman, Kenneth Chesebro and others, have had their law licenses suspended or been disbarred for their work. Preparing for the next threat to our democratic traditions is somewhat futile. In some ways, it’s a little like expanding airport security measures after the 9/11 attacks: necessary, but insufficient. The next attack will not be like the last one. It most likely won’t involve pressuring local and state officials not to certify an election or trying to block the certification of an election, but something entirely new and potentially unforeseen. The best defense, then, is to remain cautious and vigilant. Take threats to democracy seriously, but don’t overreact to every idea that’s floated or you’ll burn out. Spend less time on social media and more time being social. Get involved with a local group of activists or advocates trying to make the world better to channel your energy and remain hopeful. Insist that your elected officials live up to the standards of their predecessors. Speak up when you see something wrong. Because the next assault on democracy won’t necessarily look like Jan. 6.
Ryan Teague Beckwith is a newsletter editor for MS NOW. He has previously worked for such outlets as Time magazine and Bloomberg News. He teaches journalism at Georgetown University’s School of Continuing Studies and is the creator of Your First Byline. 
