Have you heard of the Japanese old folktale The Mouse’s Marriage?
It begins with two mouse parents searching for the most powerful being in the world to marry their beloved daughter.
They first approach the Sun.
“You must be the strongest,” they say.
The Sun replies, “No, the Cloud is stronger—it can block my light.”
So they go to the Cloud, who says, “I am at the mercy of the Wind.”
But the Wind admits, “Even I cannot move through a Wall.”
Finally, the Wall sighs, “I am no match for the Mouse. They dig holes through me.”
After this long journey, the parents realize that the strongest being was among them all along—a fellow mouse.
This simple story, passed down for generations, came back to me recently as I found myself reflecting on democracy.
Like the mice, we too seem to circle endlessly in search of the ultimate source of power. Presidents, prime ministers, parliaments, courts, media, citizens—who truly holds authority in a democratic society?
The answer, much like in the parable, remains elusive.
Who Has the Power?
In democratic systems, power appears to lie with the top—prime ministers, presidents, those in office.
But those leaders can be removed through elections.
Then is “the people” the most powerful entity?
Perhaps. Yet each individual citizen holds very limited power on their own.
Power is not fixed in a single place. It moves. It disperses.
It flows through legislatures, courts, bureaucracies, the press, public opinion, and even social media.
It is a structure in which everyone holds a little, but no one holds it all.
Democracy is, in many ways, a system built not on clarity, but on ambiguity.
And perhaps that is not a flaw—but a feature.
The Crown Without Command
The British monarchy, as dramatized in The Crown, exemplifies this beautifully.
The monarch is the head of state—above the prime minister in form.
Yet in practice, the sovereign wields almost no political power. The crown “reigns but does not rule.”
More intriguingly, politicians often lean on the symbolic authority of the monarchy to justify their own actions.
The one who seems most powerful is, in fact, often a vessel used by those who actually hold power.
It is a reversal: the figure of power is often just that—a figure.
This is the paradox of modern governance.
Authority has become performative, symbolic, layered.
And this complexity, though confusing, can also be protective.
Designed Ambiguity
In some political systems, power is clear and centralized. Decisions are made swiftly. Orders flow directly. Control is visible.
Democracies, on the other hand, are slow, consensus-driven, and sometimes indecisive.
They are messier by design. They intentionally distribute power, embed checks and balances, and make governance a shared responsibility.
Democracy wasn’t invented to be ambiguous—but history taught us that ambiguity might be the wiser path.
After witnessing the disasters of tyrannies, monarchies, and absolutist regimes, many societies concluded that the best way to prevent the concentration of power was to scatter it—even if that meant sacrificing speed, clarity, or efficiency.
The U.S. Constitution, for instance, is built around this very idea:
No one person should have enough power to rule unchecked.
The Intelligence of Uncertainty
Who is responsible?
The leader? The party? The system? Ourselves?
In less ambiguous systems, blame has a clear direction.
But in democracy, we pause. We investigate. We deliberate.
And perhaps, that slowness, that reluctance to point fingers, is precisely what makes the system resilient.
Like the mouse parents, we often search for a singular force to hold accountable.
But in the end, power returns to where it began—not in one individual, but in all of us.
Democracy is not a system where someone becomes the strongest.
It is one in which no one can become too strong.
Its strength lies not in force, but in friction.
Not in unity, but in balance.
Not in clarity, but in the mature embrace of uncertainty.
We live, choose, and swim through a system that is deliberately unclear.
And maybe, just maybe, the willingness to live within that ambiguity is one of the deepest marks of a free and intelligent society. ■