Though Chile is one of Latin America’s poster children — lauded for its economic success and the strength of its democratic institutions — in 2019, the world watched with bated breath as protests erupted nationwide. Over a million people took to the streets in the capital alone, fueled by a broad range of demands from improved healthcare and pension systems to greater recognition of Indigenous peoples and women’s rights. Through in-depth, semi-structured interviews, I sought to understand how low-income citizens — a group standing to gain significantly from the protestors’ demands — saw the state and understood their role as citizens of a democratic polity. Because democracy derives its legitimacy from the participation of its members,¹ how people self-conceptualize their citizenship and choose to exercise their rights and responsibilities matters greatly in determining the vitality and longevity of this political system.

I was born and raised in Costa Rica, one of three liberal democracies in Latin America, and consistently ranked among the best democracies in the Western Hemisphere — even above the United States according to V-Dem’s liberal democracy index and Freedom House’s freedom score. Growing up, however, I was perplexed and disillusioned by the reality I witnessed at home.

In 2018, my country confronted one of the most contentious presidential elections in its recent history: the candidates that faced off in the runoff were both from nascent parties promising to diverge from the status quo, bogged down by corruption scandals and legitimacy crises.² Across Costa Rica, young people worried about our democracy formed Coalición Costa Rica, a nonpartisan national civil society coalition dedicated to safeguarding our democratic system by working towards a more informed and participatory country. As a founding member of this organization’s local branch in my hometown, Monteverde, I went door-to-door informing voters on the critical issues at stake that election cycle, organized transportation systems to bring citizens to the polls, and spearheaded events to increase my community’s engagement with these elections.

That April, as I worked the polls at the Escuela de Santa Elena — a local school serving as a polling station—I found I, too, was losing faith in democracy. Our efforts felt insufficient. I was disheartened by the rationale folks gave for selecting their chosen candidate; I was frustrated by the imperfect nature of our system. How many people had not voted that day? How many had not voted simply because they could not get to the polls? How many did not know who to vote for or how to choose, and how many more thought that regardless of who won, their government would continue to fail them? If I saw so many shortcomings in my home country — allegedly one of the best democracies — what was it like elsewhere?

Community and collaboration are vital ingredients to solving the pressing issues facing our societies.

This was one experience among many that motivated me to come to Stanford, determined to learn how democracies across Latin America could be strengthened from the ground up, creating systems of governance that fulfill their promise of working in service of all their members.

Through my honors thesis, I sought to explore this question using rigorous empirical research. I saw the case of Chile as one that could shed light on the challenges democracies in my region face. In particular, I observed striking parallels between the growing discontent with and diminishing trust in democracy in Chile and Costa Rica. From developing a research design, writing the interview protocol, and securing IRB approval, to conducting fieldwork in Santiago, creating local partnerships, recruiting participants, and conducting interviews, writing my honors thesis pushed me to use the tools I had acquired throughout my undergraduate career in service of contributing to our understanding of the state of our democracies.

The concluding chapter of my thesis features an epigraph with a statement from former Uruguayan President José “Pepe” Mujica, cautioning that “if we renounce politics and each one takes refuge in the individual,” our civilization will break down.³ These words speak to how democracies suffer when people withdraw from the political community — from decision-making processes, public spaces, and their democratic citizenship. Citizen participation is democracy’s oxygen; this form of government hinges on our ability to act collectively and integrate members’ voices into its functioning. The Chilean experience illustrates the perils of a disjointed society divided into isolated units.

A similar sentiment holds for addressing the challenges of our time. Ideas require feedback and discussion to flourish, for it is only once they are subjected to scrutiny through a variety of paradigms that they are able to withstand the chaotic pressures of real-world implementation. This process is not about relentless criticism or antagonism: it is about cooperation and collaboration, operating under the premise that those around you care as deeply as you do about solving the pressing issues facing our societies.
 

My time at CDDRL was transformative, not only in my growth as a young scholar but also in my development as a citizen of the world.

My time at CDDRL was transformative, not only in my growth as a young scholar but also in my development as a citizen of the world. This is precisely because, beyond an intellectual home, I found community here. From daily greetings, smiles, exchanges of heartfelt conversation, and comradery — within the honors cohort, between students, staff, and faculty—emerges a culture of care that nurtures the whole person. Such quotidian interactions brim with positivity, converting weekly research seminars, workshops, or even casual encounters in Encina Hall into powerful energy sources. It is this spirit that informs the relationships that are born here, turning a group of remarkable individual scholars into a community.

On days when it seemed my thesis did not want to get written — when the headlines on the constitutional process in Chile, presidential elections in Brazil, or violence in El Salvador flooded my inbox, dampening my ability to continue reading journal articles and coding interviews — coming to CDDRL became an antidote. I could find solace in conversations with advisors and mentors, work sessions with other students, or moments of shared humanity with the wonderful staff and faculty at the Center.

Confronting the troubles of our time with the intention of finding solutions — facing a myriad of setbacks along the way — requires a kind of dynamic resilience that takes a great deal of courage and resolve. Yet engaging in this endeavor embedded in a collaborative, vibrant, and compassionate community, like the one found at CDDRL, makes even the hardest days a little bit easier. Such communities are the key to having the stamina and faith to continue developing new, innovative, and daring solutions in an environment where they will be pushed to become their best versions.

Becoming intimately familiar with the case of Chile has proven a sobering endeavor on the practicalities of democratic reform. As I finalized my thesis, Chile was embarking on its second attempt at re-writing its constitution after the draft resulting from the first was vehemently rejected by a majority of the population.

Perhaps above all, both my research itself and my time at CDDRL more broadly have impressed upon me the need to care for our political communities as one would a delicate flower in a tropical garden.

<sub>1. O’Donnell, Guillermo. “The Quality of Democracy: Why the Rule of Law Matters.” Journal of Democracy 15, no. 4 (2004): 32-46.
2. Colburn, Forrest D., and Arturo Cruz S. “Latin America’s Shifting Politics: The Fading of Costa Rica’s Old Parties.” Journal of Democracy 29, no. 4 (2018): 43-53.
3. Klein, Darío. Vota y Verás: Reflexiones de Pepe Mujica. Syncretic Press, 2018.</sub>

Below is a transcript of remarks by Miku Yamada, MIP '23, at the diploma ceremony for Ford Dorsey Master's in International Policy graduates on June 18, 2023.
 

At Stanford, this MIP cohort quickly became my family. We became a family, not only because we had classes together every single day for the first quarter, but because despite all of our differences, we shared a collective desire to make the world, with all of its imperfections and inequalities, a better place for all to live in. 

When I think back to the first quarter, most of my memories are being in the MIP studio, or one of the study rooms in the dorms, either trying to flip probability trees, or struggling to understand how to calculate the Balance of Payments. But these are now fond memories, because through all these grueling work sessions, I developed a support system that carried me throughout my Stanford experience. 

While I learned a great deal from the classes I took, I learned equally as much, if not more, from my classmates. At the Friday discussions hosted by Taimur, we exchanged opinions on a broad range of topics, from cryptocurrency to critical race theory, encouraging each other to look at these issues from multiple lenses. We challenged the assumptions we had each internalized, and together, we boldly envisioned what we could do once we stepped out of our comfort zones. It was these discussions that inspired me to take classes I would not have considered otherwise, on topics ranging from energy to tech platform policy. 

We mastered our specializations and delved into new interests. Some of us, like Tanvi and Daniel, started out focusing on issues in development and governance, but fell in love with the exciting intersection of technology and policy. Angela immersed herself in the innovation ecosystem at Stanford as the first non-STEM Threshold Venture Fellow. Munashe and Dulguun took the opportunity to study at the Diplomatic Academy of Vienna to further broaden their perspective on policy issues. Omar and Corinna pursued their passions in space policy and food systems, unearthing amazing opportunities.

Not only were these two years a time of learning, many of us dedicated our time to creating social impact. Arden’s work on helping resettle high-risk Afghan refugees, and Francesca’s work with the Stanford’s Jail and Prison Education Project are two prime examples of this. Shiro was awarded the Stanford Impact Founder Fellowship to build human capital for climate-adaptive farms in sub-Saharan Africa. The 20+ units of cyber policy electives were not enough for Caroline and Ilari, and so they devoted their time out of class to tackle online safety challenges at the Stanford Internet Observatory.

Throughout our journey, we experienced many joyous moments, which we celebrated together. We welcomed Brian’s beautiful daughter Lena. Joyce hosted us to celebrate the Lunar New Year, as we welcomed the year of the tiger, and then the year of the rabbit. I will never forget listening to Jasdeep read us his beautiful poem, and the harmonies of Caroline, Corinna, and Ben among the flickering flames at campfire night. We cheered on as Rosie performed in the Law School musical two years in a row, even as an expecting mom. We travelled around the world to conduct fieldwork for our capstone projects. I had the pleasure of witnessing Jonathan and Omar fall in love with the food in Tokyo and Hanoi, and especially the wonder that is Japanese 7-11s. We also celebrated the 40th anniversary of the IPS/ MIP program, together with our inspiring alumni.

However, these past two years have not always been easy. As much as grad school is an immensely rewarding time, it is also a challenging time. It is challenging because we are constantly tackling questions to which there are no answers to. It is challenging because it is a time of uncertainty, and it is difficult to measure how much we have grown. Throughout these two years, many of us have suffered personal losses, and wished we were closer to home. As policy students, it is especially devastating to see the ideals we strive for being destroyed by anger, fear, and greed. We watched in horror and disbelief as Russia invaded Ukraine, and many innocent civilians lost their lives. We saw Covid-19 continuing its rampage, impacting communities and people dear to us. 

Even so, we made it through. We supported each other through the lows. Here I was constantly surrounded by friends who gave me more kindness and love than I could ever return. I was struck so many times at how beautiful and powerful it is when we choose to be selfless, and choose to empower others. 

Now it is time for us to each embark on our separate journeys. Some of us, Chubing, Joyce, Suman, Anna and Luis will further expand their interdisciplinary learning at Stanford. Others, like Jonathan and Ben, will start their careers applying their policy skills in consulting. Yet others, including myself, will work in government to develop policies from the public sector.

We will continue to face challenges. As we learned from the Problem-Solving Framework, making changes is not an easy task, and it is not something we can do on our own. It takes time and hard work- but now we are equipped with the tools we need and a community of caring and inspiring friends all around the world. 

The most important lesson I have learned through Stanford, is to truly care about the problems we aim to solve, and to approach them with love. Sometimes it seems easier not to care, when caring too much about things that never seem to get better breaks your heart. Sometimes it is difficult to love, because it is too painful to watch the people and the things we love being hurt. Still, I hope we have the strength to always choose empathy and love. When we believe in a cause, and when we love a community, we can make an impact, deeper and larger than we could even imagine. Knowing each and every one of you, I am confident that we are ready to go out and tackle even the most difficult obstacles, with hope, compassion, and love. 

I want to end by sharing one of my favorite Japanese phrases: 「一期一会」(ichigo ichie). It roughly translates into “one chance in a lifetime”, and means that we should treasure each encounter and each moment in our life, because no moment is repeatable. Let us cherish all the encounters we make in our life. Let us never take a moment or an opportunity for granted. I especially hope that you will all remember this very moment as a time of joy and gratitude.

Now, please join me in congratulating the graduates of the MIP Class of 2023!

The newly-founded Stanford Democracy Initiative, which brings together scholars and community stakeholders to examine Stanford’s role in the promotion of democratic norms nationally and globally, has compiled and released a list of courses, projects and activities at Stanford that the initiative claims advance democracy.

Read the full article in The Stanford Daily.