Majorities Have Votes. Citizens Have Voices.

What does courage look like in public life?

It’s not always dramatic. It’s not standing on a podium when the room is cheering. It’s not casting the easy vote when your caucus expects it. It’s not repeating the talking points that poll well.

Sometimes courage is far quieter — and far rarer.

It is the citizen who reads the resolution no one else bothered to read.

It is the taxpayer who shows up on a Tuesday night when the outcome feels predetermined.

It is the voter who says, calmly but firmly, “This is not acceptable,” even when elected officials would prefer silence.

And sometimes courage belongs to the official who breaks ranks. The one who asks the uncomfortable question. The one who votes against political convenience because conscience demands it.

Accountability requires courage on both sides of the dais.

For the governed, it is the voice that refuses to be dismissed.

For the governing, it is the willingness to answer — clearly, honestly, and without contempt.

Majorities have votes. That is how democracy functions.

But citizens have voices. That is how democracy survives.

Courage in a republic is not loud bravado. It is persistence. It is showing up again after being ignored. It is insisting that safeguards matter, that process matters, that transparency matters — even when the majority already has the numbers.

Sometimes courage is simply the voice inside that says, against the pressure to move on, “I will not give up.”

And in a self-governing society, that kind of courage is not just inspiring. It is necessary.