When growing up on weekends, I played in many basketball games on a beat-up concrete court in a worn-out park. We never used a referee so the success of the game depended on how closely we voluntarily followed the rules. We called our own fouls and when it was an obvious foul, we usually got our way, depending on just how passionate (loud) we were about how hard we were fouled. On close fouls—those that could go either way—we usually didn’t call them, but if we did, we tended to rotate the call from one side to the other.
The point is, we knew what we had to do to be fair so that we could keep everybody somewhat happy so they would return each weekend to play another game.
Our democracy today is very much like playing in a pickup street game of basketball.
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